Surprises in the dark
24 February 2014 | Playa Pérula, Bahía Chamela, México
Photo: Sunrise from La Cruz marina looking towards Puerto Vallarta (I had no good photos of Chamela!)
With more than 150 nm to go to Manzanillo, from where Mike was scheduled to fly in 11 days' time, we decided that we needed to leave La Cruz on Sunday (February 23rd) and continue heading south. Al and Lindy had already moved to Paradise Village (where they had made a reservation long in advance for the end of Cheryl and Hank's visit) so, for once, we would be leading the way and hoped to meet-up with them eventually near Barra de Navidad.
On leaving Banderas Bay to the south, it is necessary to round Cabo Corrientes (Cape of Currents) which is notorious for having rough, confused seas and strong winds. So by leaving the marina at La Cruz at 4am we expected to be off Cabo Corrientes about five hours later, when the morning winds would still be fairly calm. Once we had passed the headland, the increasing, afternoon breezes should push us down the coast towards our destination of Bahía Chamela, 96 nm from La Cruz.
The marina was well enough lit to make our predawn exit straightforward but as we were starting to cross Bahía de Banderas we could hear a whale breaching between us and the shore at La Cruz. Staring at the dark water between us and the lights of shore, I could vaguely see the white wake when the whale landed the second time, which was a bit spooky. Knowing that the bay is a popular habitat for whales and there could be unpleasant consequences from accidentally hitting one that was sleeping at the surface, I stayed on the bow as look-out for a while. With the engine going we were not exactly creeping up on any marine mammals but I was glad not to see any whales on our course. Instead, I was entertained briefly by some dolphins riding our bow wave.
Our timing worked well so that by the time we were off the Cape the sea was fairly calm but as we made our turn to the southeast the breeze picked-up sufficiently that we could to unfurl the jib and shut-off the engine. We saw, and heard the splashes, of numerous turtles coming up to breathe at the water surface in the calm conditions but we did not see any of them for long enough to identify their species.
With only about 60 nm to go to Chamela, our options were to run the motor hard to maintain 6 knots to try to arrive before dark or to slowly sail downwind. We picked the second option knowing that Mike was not feeling like doing any night-watches so it would be back to our usual four-hour watches for Randall and me but the lush-looking coast was beautiful and the pace was relaxing so it seemed like a good way to proceed. Randall hooked a couple of fish but one escaped and other was a Pacific crevalle jack which Randall hastily released. We had enjoyed a delicious piece of tuna from the fish-market in La Cruz so none of us was in the mood for "crap-crevalle" as Mike endearingly termed it.
Lulled by the calm conditions, I stupidly left a portlight open on the starboard, windward side of the main cabin. An unusual combination of waves from two directions and a wave reflected off the hull smacked together into a plume of water that perfectly rose to the height of the open portlight and slopped right into it. This managed to soak our overnight-berth with the lee-cloth, along with several photographs, books, and packets of food in the back of one locker. Needless to say, I was not a happy-camper and it took a long time to find where all the salt-water had seeped and to dry things out. Steering well clear of my ranting and manic-mopping in the cabin, Randall and Mike stayed in the cockpit and helped to air-out the affected books, which were most of our bird-, plant-, and fish-identification books. Luckily, nothing seemed to be permanently damaged.
Around 9 pm the wind had become so light that we started the engine and had to decide at what speed to continue our passage. Given the large, open anchorage at Bahía Chamela, we decided not to dally at sea but to make a nighttime entry. At 3 am, using our radar and the GPS-waypoints from the Breeding and Bansmer cruising-guide superimposed over our rather inaccurate electronic charts, we were able to round Punta Pérula safely and tuck into its lee, along the beach off the village of Pérula.
Fortunately, there was only one other anchored sailboat, which had produced a good radar signal and we had eventually been able to see it once we got close enough to distinguish their anchor-light from the shore lights. That boat had left by the time we awoke after catching-up on our sleep but in the daylight I was surprised to see several fish-farm pens a bit further out from the beach. Even though we had not known what they were, the pens had also produced good radar signals so we had stayed well away from them but it is a little unnerving to realize that we had not been able to see them at all in the dark. Thank goodness for our radar!