What a busy night! Coasting slowly, we command our little boat up along the Mexico's edge, in a place called the Mexican Riviera. Leaving Zihuatanejo at dawn Saturday, and raising the reacher/drifter - a pretty coloured lightweight sail - to tag along with the Southeast breeze. Earlier I decided it was a perfect day for the spinnaker, and got it out on deck. I didn't think it through because the spinnaker halyard got itself wound around the top of the genoa furling. The genoa is the big sail at the front which rolls up on its own stay. So there was nothing for it but I had to climb to the mast top and free it. First day, and a mistake which I allowed to make me grumpy! The mast head jumped around a bit but in no time i was back down. .Forget the spinnaker! Anyhow, we tried poling out the genny but it flopped and slid around and we crawled along. Sunny and coastwise, the first day. . First night out we motored and stood our watches, of two hours each. Called up a ship to see if he could see us on his radar. Yes, he could. Another ship passed 8 miles away. Then three more ships.

The sea is 2500 feet deep here, half a mile or one kilometer. Second day we motor sail then off with the engine and sail in towards the coast to have a closer look. It is wild, rugged and beautiful, the way places are when the human changes have not been wrought. trying for a place to anchor for the night - we sail towards Maruata, a tiny cove with indigenous people in huts, some of whom do not speak Spanish. Spying a sailing yacht near Muruata - still ten miles distant and night coming fast - I called him on the radio and asked if the bay looked okay for an anchorage; they found there was a big swell rolling in there, so it looked out of the question to spend the night. Sailing away from the coast we had a fine sail, as dusk came on, and in the dark we had dinner in the cockpit, tacking out and away from the land.

The wind now fell light, and the tack that would have cleared the point, a headland called San Telmo, was not going to work. Time to roll up the genny and motor sail (with just the mainsail) again. I took first watch tonight, Adrienne having taken it last night. As we entered the waters around San Telmo point, about 10 miles off shore, ships started appearing on the chartplotter screen, thanks to the AIS (Automatic Identification System) which gives a little black pointy triangle symbol at the position of the ship, plus info about its range and bearing, course and speed, and - if you're lucky - its name. This lets you call them by name on channel 16 VHF, but otherwise they don't always seem to want to answer! Soon there are more ships, three, four, and at one time five ships custered around me, as Adrienne slept, all rounding the point,. coming at us from ahead and behind! I tried making sense out of their movements, writing down the changing numbers, range (distance off), bearing (angle off our course), their course. I called some to find out - did they see us on their radar?

And Rio Valiente - we are on exactly the same course, but from opposite directions! Collision course! Each of the captains are very polite but cautious, and English is not their native tongue. So communication is not always easy. I said I would change course to port, and he said he would change course to port. Good! I will pass on your starboard side I said. We agreed on this. No problem.

Briefing Adrienne as she came on watch, she became nervous about the ship traffic - we were right in the thick of it. As I went to the bunk, I said if it gets overwhelming, call me. Well, after what seemed 2 seconds she woke me - there was a ship about to collide - well it was 17 miles off, so there was still time! I called the captain and he said negative, he did NOT see us on his radar. After that we decided to alter course by a big amount, told him, and watched as the two of us slowly approached and passed. What a busy night! I went back to sleep, and Adrienne wove through more ships, all cutting the corner. now it became quiet at last, at about 4 in the morning. she had let me sleep for 4 hours.

Now as I type this in the cockpit, she has been asleep for three and a half, and I spoke with one more ship, always with the same question - do you see me?

Now I wake her, and the question is, will we make it to Manzanillo today, or should we stop in Cabeza Negra? Always the little futures that intrigue us, the different possibilities...

PS. The sunlight glitters on the bay outside the portlights, the cabin rocks gently, the palm trees along the beach move lazily - and sounds of breakfast come from the galley ... A dream? No, we are anchored in clear green-green water in Cabeza Negra, and only a few hours after the dawnlight scene related above ... A powerboat with some old farts waved as they went out to the rocks to fish, as I finished up the anchoring. Their boat's name was painted on the side: Sea Senior. They welcomed us to the bay on channel 16 VHF. a day (maybe two) here to rest up, then a 5 am start on the 10 hour leg to Manzanillo.