8th March, 2024

The Ups and Downs of Cruising

Sunday, February 25, 2024

It’s our third day at anchor in Chamela Bay. We left Barra de Navidad on Thursday knowing we would stay here for a week waiting for the next weather window to go north. That means at least six nights in one place. This is what I wanted. To stay on the hook – in one place – for at least a week. But now that I am here, I’m a little unnerved; what will I do with myself?

It’s not that there aren’t things to do on a boat. There are a multitude of things to fix and/or clean. I can read. I can write. We can swim and paddle board and kayak. It isn’t really for a lack of things to do. I think it is more about not going anywhere. We aren’t moving forward.

I imagine this to be like it is when you sail to the South Pacific and find yourself in the doldrums. Where there is little or no wind and the boat just drifts along making very little headway. In that moment, one must learn patience. Or go crazy.

Why is it so hard to slow down and just be?

Sometimes when our minds won’t let us stop, our bodies take over and force the issue. Jay and I are both sick. We have been fighting a cough/sore throat/cold for over a month. It has finally taken me down and I have barely moved for the last few days. I feel like such a slug.

We did manage to go to shore for breakfast yesterday. We picked Mark and Tom up from s/v Wainui in our dinghy, motored up the river, tied her to a dock, and walked into town. That was a nice little getaway. But I couldn’t wait to get back to the boat and lie down.

Today Jay suggests I go swimming. Get on my paddle board. Maybe that will help.

They say salt water heals everything. Let’s hope so.

Monday, February 26, 2024

Jumping in the salt water actually did help! So did the shower. This might sound crazy but we take our shower topsides under a camping shower bag. In a bathing suit, I might add. We do have shower facilities inside, only we rarely use them. I think this all started when we came down the Baja coast and were preserving water and we never have changed. The warm, fresh water was delightful.

Jay and I decided to take the dinghy to shore. A few years ago, they built a Malecon and docks along the river so no more beach landings. Yay! The only caveat is we have to watch the tides as it can get very shallow in the river. There are also lots of rocks to watch out for. Even though the docks are only a few years old, they are a mess. They are falling apart. Some are lopsided. Nails stick out here and there. We aren’t sure if it’s due to bad construction or the many hurricanes that hit the area almost every year. Maybe it’s both.

We walked into town and ate at our new-found restaurant. We usually go to a place called Jazz Cafe. The Jazz Cafe is situated in a quaint setting underneath a wooden canopy surrounded by trees. The wooden tables and chairs are beautifully carved. In the center of the tables are tiny glass jars holding rose-colored bougainvillea. The food is excellent. So is the coffee. The juice is freshly squeezed.

One day, the Jazz Cafe was closed so we kept walking. That is when we found the new no-name restaurant. They too have a lovely setting although not quite as charming as the Jazz Café. However, the food was just as good. Maybe better. The juice is also freshly squeezed. The coffee, well, not so good. But the best part was the cost of the food was half what we paid at the Jazz Café.

After breakfast, we went shopping for provisions. In a small town like Perula that means going to several different tiendas. We might find avocados and tomatoes in one place. Wine at another place. I think every place has beer. They always have freshly made corn tortillas. Sometimes they have homemade refried beans in plastic cups for sale. Salsa too. On weekends, a family sets up a barbecue and grills whole chickens. They serve it with coleslaw, rice, tortillas, and salsa. Enough food for about four meals for as little as $15. Quite a bargain.

I didn’t have much on my list. I was looking for cheese and tortillas. A few tomatoes and one avocado. We bought three bottles of wine at two different places. Nothing else. We still have a few more days before leaving. We will be back for more provisioning.

Back to the boat. No swimming today. The wind is howling and I’m really tired from our morning excursion. I think I’ll take a nap.

Tuesday, February 27, 2024

This morning, we learned that our dear friend, Brian Neill passed away. It was sudden because he was finally on the mend from his many brain surgeries. But it was just too much for his heart and he had a massive heart attack last night.

Suddenly our hearts were filled with sadness.

We decided a long walk on the beach might be the thing we needed. A time of quiet reflection. Then lunch at one of the restaurants along the shore. Maybe I will go swimming. The water here is so clean and clear and the surf is fun. Maybe that will lighten my mood.

Jay got the dinghy ready while I changed into my bathing suit and collected various things to take along; the radio, our phones, money, and grocery bags. Jay pulled the starting cord on the engine. Nothing. This went on for about twenty minutes until he called it. Dead. Jay thought water in the fuel might be the issue. No more dinghy rides this trip.

We were disappointed about missing our walk on the beach but we still got to swim off the boat. And no more provisioning. I noted we only had two bottles of wine and four beers to last us five more days.

“What about food? Jay asked.

“I think we’re good,” I responded. I have never let the provisions get so low. We were okay but the pantry was getting sparse. Note to self: Always over-prep the food because you never know if you can get to the shore to buy more.

Wednesday, February 28, 2024

Today is the day we put all the toys away and batten everything down. Usually, I have to get in the dinghy to hook up the davits and then Jay lifts me up in the dinghy. It’s a little unnerving because the boat is rocking one way and, until I am all the way up, the dinghy is rocking the opposite way. We try to do this early morning so there are fewer waves and wind. But yesterday, Jay had another idea which I agreed could work.

My paddleboard was in the water so we tied it up to the dinghy. Jay led the dinghy around to the stern of the boat with me in it and the paddleboard following. I attached the lines and then climbed onto the paddleboard, paddled around to the ladder at midships, and stepped up and back onto the boat. Then I helped Jay pull up the dinghy. So simple. Great idea. Next, we pulled up the paddleboard and tied it so that it wouldn’t fly off while sailing.

Another thing we have to do is to make sure all things are tied down or put away. Our friends have a catamaran and when I went on board and saw how they had all their knick-knacks lying out, I couldn’t believe it. “Don’t you want to put those away?” I asked

“Nope,” Alison said. “Things don’t move around on cats the way they do on monohulls.” I had to see it to believe it.

There are other chores too. Jay checks the engine. We make sure all electronics are charged. He checks the fuel. It was enough to fill our day.

We went to bed early as we would start our journey north at sunrise.

Thursday, February 29, 2024

We left Chamela anchorage at 0725. We decided to leave today because the forecast was for southerly winds of 6-8 knots. But no. The winds were from the north – directly on the nose, I might add – and 10-14 knots. Ugh! The sea wasn’t flat but neither did we have six-foot waves, which was good. We motor-sailed along at about six knots. All went well and we anchored in Ipala after 50 nm at 1630. There were two other boats already there and this is a very small anchorage. We tucked in and settled for the night. Our food for the day was cereal for breakfast, Ramen soup in a cup for lunch, and a box of Macaroni and Cheese for dinner. We shared a beer after anchoring and shared our last bottle of wine for dinner.

Friday, March 1, 2024

Sailing past Cabo Corrientes can be challenging. It is the Cape of Currents because this is where the mountain range changes from east to west to north and south. Going north means we are usually heading into the wind. It is much more difficult if we have the current against us. And, at a certain area, the sea is very turbulent with waves coming from all directions. All of us sailors wait to we get the best weather window to head north. If the forecast is off today like it was yesterday, that will be a bummer.

It turned out to be a fairly good motor-sail up and around and we arrived at Punta de Mita at 1445. We could have gone all the way to our marina, but they haven’t been dredging because the high surf we have been having lately broke the pipe into pieces. So, we thought it prudent to wait for high tide which is tomorrow, late morning.

While sailing up, I had a thought. I went below and checked a drawer.

“Aha,” I called out to Jay. “Look what I found; two bottles of wine and one beer!”

“Where did that come from?” He asked.

“I think I stashed it there when we provisioned for the trip down. I forgot all about it.”

Lunch was an English Muffin sandwich with the last two pieces of sliced turkey and lettuce. Dinner was a total of three leftover chicken fajitas and beans and rice. I couldn’t get the can opener to open it, so Jay used a screwdriver, which was a slow process. It turned out to be an old can of beans. Suffice it to say it wasn’t a good dinner. The wine helped. And, we had the most beautiful sunset.

Saturday, March 2, 2024

It is dawn. The air is cool, but I am comfortably snuggled in my sleeping bag. I am lying in the cockpit. I open my eyes and watch as the sun rises. It is very quiet except for the waves gently knocking on the hull and the birds announcing the day. The colors on the horizon are cantaloupe and dusty rose with a long cloud of dark gray that appears like a plateau in the sky. A few birds make a racket and I look up to see what all the fuss is about. When I look back to the horizon, the have shifted, the cantaloupe has changed to a burnt orange, and the dusty rose has become red. A hole in the clouds allows a sunbeam to shine over the water like a path reaching out to me. Within minutes, everything changes again. All the clouds are white and the blue sky takes over. The sun has risen.

It is the last day of our cruising season. We will be in our slip in about three hours. I am looking forward to being back “home” in the marina. But I must say, I will miss this.