Towing s/v Molly J. I took advantage of a lull in the waves, put the boat on autopilot, and quick shot this photo. While it looks flat here, the seas were lumpy, maybe four to six feet.

March 28, 2017
Chamela Bay

1700 – Jay and I had just finished preparing Cadenza for the next leg of our journey. The plan was to weigh anchor at dawn and head north to the next anchorage, Ipala, 50 nm. Since we would have no service for the next few days, Jay checked his email one more time. This is what he found:

Jay,

Where is Cadenza currently anchored?

The sail boat Molly J, two souls aboard (Jon and Lisa) was enroute to Mazatlán from Barra de Navidad. Their last known position is N19º 49.072, W105º 27.426. Their engine has stopped. They have been in strong winds all night and they have decided to turn and run south to Chamela and will have to anchor under sail. Both have heavy sea sick issues and lack of sleep. They are attempting to sail southbound from that position to Chamela. It is unknown their current speed. It was advised that they will attempt to slow their forward movement for an early morning arrival in Chamela. They may need some help in the anchorage.

I will put out an emergency call on VHF 22 first thing on the net tomorrow. I will also put out an emergency call on Picante and Amigo nets in the morning.

If you have a cellular phone number I could call you with any updates as they become available.

My contact info is…

Thank you in advance for any assistance you can provide.

Dan
s/v Dazzler

We decided to call s/v Linger Longer and ask them to watch out for the Molly J. They had just left the bay, heading north overnight to La Cruz. It wasn’t that Linger Longer needed to do anything for them other than to let them know people were aware of their circumstances and ready to help if needed. We wanted to put their minds at ease. About an hour later, Linger Longer was able to connect to the Molly J via radio and relay to us that they were on their way to Chamela Bay. Linger Longer let them know we were keeping our radio on, as well as our spreader lights, to help guide them in when they got there. We kept the radio on, as I fixed dinner. Eventually, Linger Longer was out of radio range and the Molly J was in our radio range, so we took over from there.

We quickly learned that nothing was working. The engine was kaput. The radio was hit and miss. Jay asked about the mainsail and Jon said, “Frankly, we’ve been in the Barra marina for the last two years and we hadn’t planned on sailing. We were going to make a straight shot up to Mazatlán, motoring.” Then, said something to the effect that he couldn’t raise the mainsail and his electric winch was broken. Understandably, Jon sounded exhausted and frustrated.

The next transmission we get, Jon says they have good wind and are sailing five knots. He is a little more hopeful, despite they will get to us after dark and he has never been in this bay before.

Approximately 2130, Jon radios us and says he is near the entrance to the bay, but the wind has died. They tried to make the entrance but got pushed south by the current. The situation was not looking good for them getting into the anchorage. Jay kept talking with him, trying to keep his spirits up. Jon was going to make another attempt.

Meanwhile, Jay and I were conflicted. Should we go out there and help them? It was pitch black. It was a dangerous proposition. We had never towed anyone and to go out and try to get them in the dark, could put all of us in danger. Still, it was a difficult decision as there were two people out there, tired, sick, and most likely, frightened.

Jon’s second attempt failed. He called us on the radio and said that it looked like the only thing they could do was stay out there all night, away from shore, flopping around in the sea. Jay asked if they were okay, was anyone hurt, or were they in any serious danger. Jon said no, they were just tired. Jay asked if he understood why we couldn’t come out there to help them that night. If they were in mortal danger, then, of course, we would try to help, but if not, it was just too risky. “Yes, of course I understand.” He said. We promised to keep the radio on all night and check with him in the morning. Our last contact that night was midnight and they were away from shore and okay. Knowing this, didn’t relieve our anxiety and it was a restless night, praying that they were safe.

March 29, 2017

0530 – Jay and I have tea and coffee and make our final preparations to leave the anchorage.

0700 – Dawn is arriving. (It arrives late here because we are on the most western side of the central time zone.) Jay calls Molly J on the radio. Lisa answers. “How are you doing?” Jay asks.

“Okay, but can you hold on a second. We just ripped the genny.” Jay and I look at each other with the understanding that we have to go out and help them. Lisa comes back on the radio. “Hang on. Jon is coming.”

Jon sounds like a man defeated. “We just ripped our genny on the radar tower.” He sighs. He goes over everything that has gone wrong and finally says, “We’re in dire straits here. If I throw you a line, could you come out here and tow us?”

“That’s the plan. What is your waypoint?”

The waypoint was a bit off, but we finally saw them on radar and headed out their way. We were powering into the waves which were about four to six feet. It was much lumpier than we expected. There was little wind. Jay drove the boat in close, so Jon could throw me the line. I caught it, only he threw it mid-ship. “It’s tied up! Why did he tie it up? I can’t get it untied!” (Now, I understand. He wanted the weight of the bundle to drop over to our boat and not leave the line dragging in the water.) I had to get it from mid-ship to the stern quickly. Only this meant I had to get it around the kayak rack, the Lifesling and the solar panel, under the lifeline and through to the cleat in a manner of seconds. “It’s pulling me! I can’t get it untied! Jay!” I was caught between the dinghy and solar panel.

“Watch out for the solar panel!” Jay yelled as he ran over and took the line from me. He sent me to the helm. This is probably where I should have been in the first place.

After a few tense moments, we were tied together and I put Cadenza in gear and we started back. We were about four and a half miles from the entrance to the anchorage, going three knots. Towing a 40,000-lb. boat is risky. For many reasons, as you can imagine. Fortunately, we were now going with the waves, instead of against them. Still, they were four to six feet and sometimes, one would be on the crest and the other in the trough. If it was Molly J on the crest, she would start sailing down the wave, loosening the tow line. Then, we would rise up and snap! Jay was tending to the line, trying to prevent it from snapping. Once, the tow line whipped against his stomach, causing a bruise. Ouch! He was also worried it might break. The line Jon sent over was Dacron which doesn’t stretch like nylon. When we got back to the anchorage, Jay noticed the tow line had worn and was close to breaking.

In Chamela Bay, Jon dropped the tow line and we waited for them to lower their anchor. Our next maneuver was to set their anchor by throwing the line back to them, so they could tie it up to their stern. This way we could pull them tight. The tow line was now wet and when Jay tried to throw it, it whipped around and slapped against his leg, causing a bruise about the size of a football. That one really hurt. He decided to use one of our lines and got it ready as I drove the boat around for another try. That didn’t work either. Nor did the next try. Both times, it was pulled away before Jon and Lisa had a chance to tie it down. On the fourth go around, I said a silent prayer. I was proud of my driving ability – having to bring Cadenza so close to Molly J without hitting her – but I was tired and afraid I was pushing my luck. Success! The Molly J, with Jon and Lisa on board, was safely anchored in Chamela Bay.

I have no idea what time it was. Sometime around mid-day. Too late and too tired to sail to Ipala, Jay and I anchored our boat again, had a bite to eat and went back to bed. That is how I spent my birthday.

NOTE: Besides Dazzler, Linger Longer and Cadenza, there were a lot of other boaters who helped the Molly J. We heard from Lisa that a freighter stood by them on the 28th for two hours, making sure they were okay. That same day, s/v Karvi, with Dan and Nancy who were on their way to Ipala, turned around and sailed back to the Molly J. They stayed with them for four hours. Dan and Nancy had cell phone coverage and called around to see if they could be towed. Eventually, knowing the Molly J had sails, food and water for a week, and everyone on board was okay, Dan encouraged them to sail back to Chamela Bay where we took over. Once anchored, Mark on s/v Jolly Dogs spent an afternoon helping Jon check out his engine. There may be more, but you get the idea. The cruising community looks out for each other.

Port Captain’s office in Barra de Navidad

March, 2017

There is a whole other set of rules when traveling in another country. We have to get a visa, of course. For those of us who don’t have temporary or permanent resident status in Mexico, our stay is limited to a six-month stint. When entering the country for the first time with a boat, you have to apply for a Temporary Import Permit (TIP). We must provide our documentation for the boat, as well as Mexican Insurance and pay a fee. The TIP allows us to keep our boat in Mexico for ten years.

When sailing from port to port, we must check in and check out with the Port Captain. (Not every anchorage, but mostly the larger ports that have marinas.) This requires us to physically go to the Port Captain’s office with a copy of our boat documentation, our passports, and a crew list. They take photo copies for their files, give us two copies of the crew list that they have stamped and signed – one for us and one for the marina – and we are on our way. The first few times we went through this ritual, I was intimidated. (See blog entry dated, 11/9/13, “We’re not in Kansas Anymore.”) Now, it has become routine.

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Getting in and out of marinas and anchorages can be tricky. With unknown anchorages, we have to always be on the alert for rocks and jetties and reefs. With marinas, each one brings its own set of problems. Usually, the fairways are very tight and maneuvering a 50′ boat can be difficult.

Upon arriving at Marina Puerto de la Navidad, I got on the radio and called the marina office, asking for a slip assignment. We requested a starboard tie for a 45′ boat. (We are 50 feet overall, but since the marinas charge by the foot, we stick with what is on our documentation papers.) Isabel told us to pick any slip on G-Dock and she would have someone there to meet us to handle our lines.

As we entered the marina, G-Dock sat on our right, vertically, while all the other docks were to our left and laid out in a horizontal manner. The fairway is already narrow, but on the end of each dock, on our left, at the end tie, were big power boats, making the fairway tighter. Jay headed along G-Dock, while I tried to scout out a slip. Not only were there no starboard ties, the pangas had taken all the good slips; the ones that are easier to get in and out of because of their location being opposite to an open fairway. To my left and in front of us, I spotted D-17. It would have been so easy to dock the boat there as it required little maneuvering, just a left and a slight right. Before I could get Jay’s attention, we were at the end of G-Dock where it runs into F-Dock on the left. (Imagine an upside-down L. We were stuck in the northeast corner of it.) Now, Jay had to turn a 50′ boat in a space that might have been, literally, only sixty feet, at best. To top it off, there was no one on G-Dock to help us out.

Against all these odds, Jay was trying his best to maneuver Cadenza in a three-point turn. There was wind. Not much wind, but enough to send us toward the pilings. “No! No! No!” I yelled. CRUNCH. The bow sprit rubbed against a piling and broke the port light. “Shit!” Now, I am really mad. I got back on the radio and called Isabel. She sends us to D-7. We go out of the marina, turn around, and make our entrance again. Meanwhile, I am still eying D-17 which would be a better fit for us. “Just go in that one.” I say to Jay, my patience wearing thin.

Isabel radios us and says, “Someone just took D-7.”

“Can we please go to D-17?” I ask. After a minute, she agrees. Jay turns into the slip and Israel comes over to take our lines. Geez, you would think they would understand the limitations of boat maneuverability.

Leaving the marina wasn’t so graceful, either. We had several friends to help us out and all went smoothly – at first. Once out in the fairway, Jay was turning the wheel, but nothing was happening. The wind got hold of us again. (We have a very high freeboard.) and we were headed for a big powerboat. “No! No! No!” I yelled, again. I looked to Jay, not understanding what was happening. I was on the bow and he wasn’t answering my questions.

Just then, a panga with a load of people came beside us and our friend, Ben, tossed a book aboard for Jay. “No! No! No! What is he doing?!” I ask no one in particular. We nearly hit the panga. The passengers fended us off and they escaped without injury. “Whew!”

Now the boat was clear of the power boat and panga, but we were drifting into yet another boat, across the fairway. “No! No! No!” I tried to fend off, but it looked like we were going to hit when two people on the dock pulled back the boat while I pushed away. Finally, Jay got the steering back and we were on our way. “What happened?” I asked.

“The auto-pilot was on.” Jay answered, sheepishly.

Usually, this would never have happened, but he had been working on it the day before. Evidently, he had left it in the on position. When he turned on the boat, Cadenza was heading for a fixed waypoint somewhere, just not where we wanted to go. Ah, boats, you just never know what the day will bring.

P.S. Alison and Allan! No more Moaning Myrtle! She just squeaks and peeps now and again. Jay fixed her.

March, 2017

One of our boat projects is keeping fresh water on board. Some people have water makers. We have one. A very old one. It is not very productive, as it only makes 1 ½ gallons per hour, so we don’t have it connected. If we were going to Central America, or across the Pacific Ocean, we would probably buy a new one. Since we carry two water tanks with a 100-gallon capacity in each, and the cost would be approximately $8,000 (That is American dollars.), Jay and I have decided to forego a new water maker and depend on local resources.

Some marinas have potable water. If that is the case, all we have to do is fill our tanks through a hose. We only use that water for washing dishes, showers and plumbing the head. For drinking water, I figure one gallon a day for two people. (Which is generous.) We usually stock 15-20 one-gallon containers for our offshore cruises. When we are at a marina, like Paradise Village, it can be as simple as walking to the market and purchasing the water. For a tip, one of the bag boys will bring it to the boat on a cart. It is not always as simple as that when in more remote ports.

In Barra de Navidad, our contact for water is Maria. We call her and place our order. She usually delivers the very next day. We needed to fill both tanks, but since she delivers by panga, we opted to do it over two days. The first day, we ordered 25 five-gallon containers. That was the easy part. The hard part is picking those babies up and transferring them through the funnel into the tank. That is Jay’s job, and it can be back-breaking. We also use them to fill our empty one-gallon containers. A few days later, we ordered another 15 five-gallon containers, and we were all set for our 150-nm journey back to Nuevo Vallarta. All this costed us about $1100 pesos or $55.00.

Sunrise over Marina Puerto de la Navidad

March 3, 2017

We are on our way from Tenacatita to Barra de Navidad. After 10 days at anchor, we are ready to tie up to a dock and clean the boat.

Our body rhythms have slowed down considerably. The last couple of days at Tenacatita have been lazy and relaxing. It’s good for the heart. It’s good for the mind. It’s wonderful for the soul. I will miss being at anchor, but look forward to exploring more of Barra de Navidad and the surrounding area, including a visit to La Manzanilla.

March 5, 2017

I awaken before dawn. I slip on a dress, put on my glasses, and grab the camera. I begin my walk. Only today, it will be a short walk. I go over to the hotel, (It sits behind the marina, nestled in the hill.) and ride the elevator to the top floor. The mountains rise up behind and around the lagoon. Slowly, the neighborhood awakens.

The birds and rooster begin their daily ritual, announcing the start of a new day. Hundreds of birds hide in the trees. Their song is no longer individual, but has become a concert performance. The roosters join in. They, too, are hiding, somewhere up in the hills.

One by one, the pangas arrive at the fuel dock. They are filling their tanks for another busy day of work. They are our taxis, back and forth, between the lagoon, marina, and the town of Barra de Navidad.

Twenty anchor lights swing, gently, as the morning brings no wind. I imagine the cruisers to be cuddled below, fast asleep, waiting for the sun to rise. As I join them in wait, it occurs to me that the sun is a promise we take for granted.

Sunset over Tenacatita

March 1, 2017

First thing, when I woke up, I went to Jay. He was in the galley. “How about we leave right now?”

“What? No. I have some things to do.”

“Okay.” I was disappointed. It had been a long night of rocking and rolling. The waves were relentless and hitting us on the beam. It was getting old. After a few more hits, not even five minutes later, Jay came to find me.

“Okay, let’s go.”

A sigh of relief escaped my lips.

In hindsight, as beautiful as Paraiso is, I would suggest boaters make it a day stop. It’s a great place to anchor, early in the day when it is calm. Go kayaking, swimming, have lunch. Then, weigh anchor and sleep somewhere else.

1530 – We are in the bay at Tenacatita. It is a very large bay and there are ten boats anchored here. Sometimes there are as many as thirty. It is a very popular anchorage with cruisers. Every Friday during high season, there is a coordinated raft-up. Just before sunset, everyone gets in their dinghies and a couple throw down an anchor and we create a circle. Everyone brings a dish to share and their own drinks. We pass the food from dinghy to dinghy and share stories. It is quite the festivity. Good fun.

There is a long stretch of white sandy beach with only one restaurant by the lagoon entrance and a large hotel on the far side. The beach is fairly empty today. Not much going on.

We will stay for a couple of days and then go over to Barra de Navidad, only 14 nm south.

Kayaking in Paraiso

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

We arrived at Paraiso around noon. It is another small anchorage, but, oh, so sweet. The cove is in the shape of a horseshoe with one colorful little boutique hotel on the shore. The grounds are covered with palm trees and a dash of bougainvillea. The water color is a mix of turquoise and teal and the air smells of sage from the dried brush that fills the hills. We anchored in seventeen feet on a sandy bottom. For about an hour, we were the only boat. We were hoping to have this little gem to ourselves.

“Don’t worry. That boat has at least ten people on it. They won’t be staying overnight.” I said, noticing another sailboat anchoring in front of us. Jay took out the binoculars.

“That’s Gadget!”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is. I can’t believe it!”

I took the binoculars from Jay. Sure enough, it was Gadget, a 64′ Hinckley, from Edgartown. Our Edgartown! We pass it every time we sail out of Katama Bay and here it was, so many miles from home.

We introduced ourselves to the captain and first mate, excited to tell them that we, too, are from Martha’s Vineyard. Chris and Elise have worked on Gadget for several years. In the summer, they sail her around the Vineyard and in the winter, they usually take her south to the Caribbean. This year, their boss asked them to bring it down and through the Panama Canal, up to Barra de Navidad, and ultimately, to Careyes where there was to be a wedding. (That is a lot of miles just for a wedding.) They left in November, and arrived in February.

We watched as, one by one, the guests jumped off Gadget and into the water and swam over to a small beach, tucked into the side of the cove. The gentleman who hosted the wedding had arranged for his guests to have a catered lunch there. Evidently, he has a staff of ten at his villa and they brought tables and chairs to the beach by the hotel. Another man in a panga, picked up the supplies and carted them over to the side beach, as you could only get to there by swimming or boat. At 1600, they were headed back to Careyes, after a beautiful afternoon at Paraiso.

As for Chris and Elise and Gadget, we made arrangements to meet up with them again in Barra.

NOTE OF INTEREST: Gadget was previously owned by Walter Cronkite and called Wyntje. The current owner is one of three creators of the animated television series, “Inspector Gadget.”

Hidden Beach on Isla Cocinas in Chamela Bay

Sunday, February 26, 2017 (Woops! This one is a day out of order.)

“Where are they all going?” I wondered out loud. It was Sunday morning and one after another, the pangas were loading up with customers and headed for the islands that lie inside Chamela Bay. They are small islands, designated as National Parks which protects them. We know of a small, private beach on Isla Cocinas, but it couldn’t possibly hold that many people. “There must be over a hundred people.” Jay added. Immediately, it was decided. We jumped in the dinghy, (It was already down.) and followed the pangas.

The islands are one of the highlights of this bay. The water surrounding them is clear and the rocks are filled with sea life for those who want to snorkel. Some boats even anchor near these shores. We prefer to take our dinghy.

The pangas kept passing us by, back and forth, back and forth. We passed Isla Pajarera, then Isla Novilla. About twenty minutes later, we arrived at Isla Cocinas. We passed “our” private beach. Nobody there.

“Do you want to stop here?” Jay asked. “Or, do you want to follow the pangas?”

“Let’s follow the pangas. We’ve come this far. We can stop here on the way back.”

We went around the curve of the island, sure to see their hideout. Nothing. We kept going. Finally, after another curve, tucked deep into the hill was a beach. Bright umbrellas were scattered across the sand. Over a hundred people were lying underneath, or swimming, or walking along, dipping their toes in the surf. Some were kayaking. Others snorkeling. A large palapa sat back against the trees. Presumably, the place where the tour guides keep their equipment.

The Mexican work week consists of six days. Sunday is a holiday. Family day. If they are anywhere near the beach, that is where they spend the day. Now we know where they go. Satisfied, Jay and I returned to “our” little private beach for a walk and a swim.

The tienda above is actually in Barra de Navidad, but looks much like the one in Perula.

February, 27, 2017

After several days at sea, it was time for a walk on land. We were in need of some fresh fruit and vegetables and thought breakfast out might be a good idea too. Sometimes Chamela can have a rough shore break, but the bay was calm this morning, so we decided to go for it.
Most any task a sailor takes on requires a multitude of layers. We can’t just grab the keys, jump in the car and go. We travel by dinghy, which we keep tied to the back of our boat on davits. The procedure goes like this:

1. Jay puts on his sailing gloves.
2. We untie the lines and uncoil them so as not to get them tangled
3. Undo the safety straps.
4. I climb over the back railing of Cadenza into the dinghy, which is still tied to the boat.
5. Jay lowers me down into the water. Slowly.
6. I unclip the davit lines from the dinghy.
7. We walk it over to midship.
8. I pump it up. This takes several minutes. She is getting old and loses air daily.
9. I climb out. Jay climbs in.
10. If needed, we fill the tank with gas.
11. I hand him the dinghy wheels which he snaps into place.
12. I hand him two life jackets.
13. Next in goes the backpack which contains the hand-held radio, sunscreen, water, hats, Kleenex, (You never know if there will be toilet paper in the bathroom.) and Jay’s dry shoes for walking. (Flip-flops are my shoe of choice.)
14. Okay, I think we are ready to go now.

We landed ashore without too much incident. The dinghy wheel Jay had just got repaired had too much air and popped up just as we were trying to get through the surf. Out we go, into the water, and walk her out, past the break where Jay was able to lock it into place. Back in and through the waves again. We pulled her up onto the beach and tied her to a tree.

Jane and Jerry, from s/v Aeolian, arrived on their dinghy, right behind us. There was no formal planning, although we had discussed the possibility of getting breakfast at Scuba Jazz Café the night before while sharing hors d’oeuvres and drinks on their boat. (We just met them yesterday when they came over on their dinghy and invited us over. That is how it is with cruisers; we meet people and instantly become friends. They are geologists who have lived all over the world and have wonderful tales to share.) We meandered along the beach for a while and then turned up a dirt road. Most all the roads in this town are dirt. The main road is one long stretch of rough pavement that runs into town.

Scuba Jazz Café is a really cool restaurant that serves breakfast and dinner in an open-air patio on the side of the owner’s house. The roof is a canopy of trees, laced with netting to protect the tables from leaves. It is furnished with beautifully carved wooden tables and chairs and the food is good. The menu is painted on the outside wall of the house. In the evenings, the owner, along with some of the locals and ex-pats, play jazz. Their repertoire is only music written before the 1940s. We have never heard them, but rumor has it that one must make reservations, as the restaurant gets booked up fast. During the day, on the other side of the house is a small room where they rent out scuba equipment. Thus, the name, Scuba Jazz Café. The restaurant is open Tuesday through Sunday. This is Monday. Scuba Jazz was closed. Bummer!

Not sure where to go to next, we headed back to the beach. There we met up with a woman and asked for recommendations. She shared with us her local knowledge and soon we were “downtown” at Tony’s enjoying a delicious Mexican breakfast. One hint. Never go to a Mexican restaurant hungry. Service is slow and relaxed and takes a bit of time to get delivered. It is always cooked to order. It is almost always yummy. They are never in any hurry.

We had also asked the lady on the beach where the best vegetables and fruit could be found. After a meal that cost five dollars each, we went further into town in search of the tienda. Along with our fruit and veggies, we scored three bottles of our favorite Chilean wine and one can of Negra Modelo. (You get what you can find, when you find it.) Now we are set for a few more days at anchor.

We cruisers have a saying, “One chore a day.” Our chore today was shopping. We spent the rest of the day relaxing on the boat.