The photo above is of Katama Bay. SkipJack is the boat to the left.

May 14, 2014

Opening Day is an annual ritual where yacht clubs celebrate the beginning of the sailing season. In the Channel Islands Harbor, where we kept Cadenza for twenty years, it is celebrated the first week in April by our local yacht clubs. It is a beautiful, patriotic ceremony rich in tradition. Flags are raised, songs are sung, dignitaries are introduced, and then once the Fleet Captain has stated there is no ice in the harbor, the official yachting season begins – along with a grand party.

May 12th was Opening Day for SkipJack. Just one week before, she had been shrink-wrapped and sitting in a field by the Martha’s Vineyard Airport. That is how she spent this cold, cold, winter, surrounded by dozens of other boats, braving the snow and the rain and the ice, just waiting for the day she could be let loose.

We were about to call the shipyard to see when we could pick SkipJack up when we were driving along the bay and I noticed two masts through the trees. Usually the leaves are so dense we would have to make the drive down the path to the landing in order to see our boat, but this spring winter is hanging on with a fierce tenacity and the trees have yet to bloom.

“Hey! It looks like there is a boat on our mooring!” I said indignantly, never suspecting it was SkipJack. But there she was, sitting next to our new neighbor in a virtually empty mooring field, waiting to be taken for her first sail.

It was two days ago, and unlike this frigid morning it was a warm spring day with a fifteen-knot breeze. The shipyard had delivered SkipJack in tip-top shape. She was spotless. The motor started right up. Last year we ordered a new sail and we were anxious to raise it and see how it performed.

What a joy! We were flying down the harbor with the wind and the current, sailing seven knots! Alone on the bay, with no one else around, except for the oyster farmers off in the distance. All our worries quickly melted away. Jay and I lost ten years in ten minutes. No words were needed, our smiles said it all. We were back on the water, sailing.

The above photo is the catboat, SPRITE, believed to be the oldest Herreshoff boat in existence. It was designed by the 19 year-old, blind John Herreshoff along with his father, Charles. John’s brother, Nathanael drew up all the plans & molds for the boat. He was just 11 years old. SPRITE was launched in 1860. In 1878, John and Nathanael started The Herreshoff Manufacturing Company.

May 5, 2014

Eight days later, the sun finally showed its face. We were in Newport, Rhode Island or rather, Middletown, just next door. The first weekend in May and all the inns in Newport were full. Nothing special was going on that we could tell. I guess it’s just the place to go.

We didn’t tour the extraordinary mansions lining Bellevue Avenue (think Downton Abbey) but found our way to the Herreshoff Museum in Bristol, instead.

As I mentioned before, we own an 18′ Herreshoff catboat. I always preface “catboat” with Herreshoff because when most people hear the word catboat they think of a Catamaran. This boat is much different. She has one mainsail and is gaff-rigged. Her boom extends at least a foot past the stern. Like Cadenza, she has a wide beam, eight feet. She is almost half as wide as she is long! She has a centerboard that draws three feet when down and 18″ when raised.

I have been sailing SkipJack (We really do have to change the name. It was named after the two brothers Jay bought it from 24 years ago.) for almost as long as I have sailed Cadenza. It is the perfect boat for Katama Bay here in Martha’s Vineyard. We get 10 to 20 knot winds but no waves. She flies along the water going six knots at times! Needless to say, we have a blast on SkipJack. So after ten years of sailing a Herreshoff catboat I thought I knew something about them. Wrong.

The first hint was the sign when we arrived at the museum. Herreshoff Marine Museum and America’s Cup Hall of Fame. America’s cup? What does Herreshoff have to do with the America’s Cup? Well, to start, it turns out that Halsey Herreshoff was a four-time defender in the America’s Cup. Halsey Herreshoff is the grandson of one of the co-founders of the company and also was the designer of the catboat we sail today. Here’s where I got it really wrong. I thought the catboat was it, the only Herreshoff design. (Obviously, I never picked up a book, nor did I Google Herreshoff.) It turns out the catboat is but a footnote in the history of this boat-building company. Not only did the Herreshoff Manufacturing Company design over sixty different hulls and build boats for the military during World War II, they built eight sailboats that competed in the America’s Cup! Visiting the museum was a fascinating lesson in maritime history.

We spent three days visiting Newport and its surrounding areas. It is a beautiful seaport village and we finally got to have a meal outside overlooking the water. We took a walk along the cliffs and explored the shops in town. We were content, having made our way back to the sea.

Sunday, May 4th was our very last day on this road trip. We spent it in Walpole, Massachusetts at a volleyball tournament. It is my daughter, Talia’s, very first year coaching and her team won a silver medal. We celebrated at dinner and then drove off to Wood’s Hole where we took the ferry to the Vineyard.

It is Monday, May 5. We left Mexico over five weeks ago and today we woke up in our own bed. We have finally arrived on the island.

May 2, 2014

Jay has been talking about The Griswold Inn for years. Opened in 1776 it is one of the oldest, if not the oldest inn in America. 1776, the year The Declaration of Independence was signed. The history this building must hold. Imagine the people who have stayed in these rooms, walked through these halls, ate in these dining rooms. The wood floors creak with the echos of their footsteps.

There are so few places left like this in our country. We are so quick to tear down and replace with everything new and modern. And there is something to be said for that. But to restore and care for an aging building is to show respect for our roots, for whence we came, once upon a time. This old building, nestled in the town of Essex, Connecticut, is one clue into our past.

All over town were signs, “The British are Coming!” We had arrived only days before the community of Essex would be commemorating a most important event, not only in their history but the history of our country.

It was the war of 1812, only this happened in April of 1814. The Battle of Essex was a tremendous loss of maritime ships, so much so, it has been referred to as the “Pearl Harbor” of this war. In just two days the British traveled up the Connecticut River, seized the village of Pettipaug (now known as Essex), and while occupying the Bushnell Tavern (The Griswold), stole all their ropes and rum, and then retreated back down the river, having burned over 25 privateer shipping vessels. The river, once a vital source of commerce, was now shut down.

The Connecticut River extends for over 400 miles, from Long Island Sound to the Canadian border. Its vast history is preserved by the The Connecticut River Museum located in Essex. The museum documents its importance from the days of the war, to the steamship era, to the present time where conservation and ecological care of its water and shoreline has become a priority.

Two hundred years later, Jay and I walk through the doors of the Griswold Inn. The world outside has changed quite dramatically but inside the past comes alive. The walls are filled with old books, photos and remnants from the sea. There are stories to be told here. Years and years of visitors. In fact, just thirty years ago Jay was one of them.

Always the sailor, Jay was on his third boat, “Ragtime,” a brand new 30′ Catalina. It was 1984 and he was living in Westin, Connecticut and working in New York. He kept his boat in Milford. Passionate about sailing he became the commodore of the Catalina 30′ Association. Not an official yacht club but a sailing association, there was no clubhouse. So it was at The Griswold Inn they held their annual meetings. It wasn’t long before the memories came flooding back.

“I think it was that room.” Jay said pointing to a private dining area. “Yeah, that’s where we held our meetings.” He was reminiscing, lost in a world before me. I was getting my bearings, straddling the many eras represented in these walls.

The bottom floor of The Griswold Inn has a multitude of rooms. The dining room blends into the bar that blends into the breakfast area that blends into the private room that blends into the Wine Bar. The Wine Bar is the newest addition and a good one at that. After all, Jay and I love wine. And we loved the setting, not to mention the hospitality. Our bartender was a sommelier as well as a lovely hostess. She shared her knowledge while we sampled new wines and tasted culinary presentations like roasted chic peas. A delightful combination.

Our bedroom, located on the second floor, was quaint and comfortable with a four poster bed, area rugs and a private bath. The windows opened to neighborhood streets lined with trees. All was quiet but for the constant rhythm of the rain falling effortlessly on the street corner. A woman passed my view, holding tightly to her man, looking into his face, laughing. I wondered at her life.

East coast versus west coast. Old versus new. So many choices in how we live our lives, where we live our lives, who we live our lives with. Today we are in Essex. Yesterday we were in Illinois. And tomorrow? I think we shall be in Rhode Island.

What story will unfold there?

May 1, 2014

We took a wrong turn and ended up on some back road instead of the interstate again. This turned out to be a blessing. There is so much beautiful country that we miss when we stay on the interstates and turnpikes.

It was nothing more than farmland and country houses, horses and cows. The expansive sky across the fields with the ever-changing storm clouds. The open horizon reminds me of the view from our boat, the endless sky above the sea.

I asked Jay to stop so I could take some photos. As much as I love photography it never quite captures the moment. The experience is so much more than the visual.

It is the scent of dirt, mixed with cow manure and the hint of rain.
It is the sound of wind chimes in the background and the clucking of the chicken headed my way.
It is the energy of the storm building with the wind against my face.

All these things make up the moment and are impossible to capture.

What is it with our fixation on trying to hold on, obtain, own, rather than just exist in the moment?

To be.

One moment leads to the next. Should we stay stuck in the past we will miss our present.

Cadenza is on hiatus in La Paz. She is sitting out hurricane season. Meanwhile, Jay and I are driving from California to Massachusetts.

April 28, 2014

Today we woke up in Illinois. It has rained practically every minute of the past twenty-four hours. For the last three days we have been dodging storms. There have been high winds, thunder and lightning, and heavy rains. There was even a tornado watch on one leg of our trip.

I find it ironic. I spent so much time worrying and studying the weather so we would be safe sailing, but never did I think I would have to worry about tornadoes.

“You aren’t scared, are you?” Jay asked me. It was two days ago and this day we woke up in Roswell, New Mexico and were headed for Witchita, Kansas. Jay had our trip all planned. He was aiming for six hundred miles a day so we could arrive in Martha’s Vineyard in time for our goats to be delivered.

Yes, goats! He discovered that goats eat poison ivy and we have a half-acre of poison ivy in our back yard. Jay found a woman who has started a goat landscaping business of sorts (the newest, coolest thing, ecologically speaking) and we are renting ten goats to clean out our yard.

“Really. You aren’t scared are you?” he repeated as I shuffled through the channels trying to find the weather station while at the same time Googling what to do if confronted with a tornado.

Well….yeah, I thought. What I said was, “No. I just think it’s smart to be prepared. Like, you know, when we are sailing. I mean, we wouldn’t leave the dock if there was a storm brewing.”

“We’re not going to run into a tornado, Terri.” He said as he walked away to finish packing his suitcase.

“Look!” I said, pointing to the television. There on the screen was a big circle with the words, “TOR:CON – 5” over Witchita. This, we learned, meant a fifty-fifty chance of a tornado in the fifty mile radius around Witchita. That got Jay’s attention. Although he still seemed rather unconcerned.

Maybe we should take the southern route, after all, I thought. Then I saw a TOR:CON – 7 over some of the southern states. Maybe not. Whichever way, it looked like we were going to run into weather, no matter what. In fact, it looked like we would be running with the storm all the way across country.

One of the first lessons I learned in my weather for sailing class is that there are two things that will almost always cause accidents; being too tired and having to stay on a schedule. This crossed my mind when Jay noted that staying put wasn’t an option. We weren’t going to sit in this hotel for a week and besides, we had to be home when the goats arrived. He couldn’t believe I was so skittish about the whole thing. But I was. I am terrified of tornadoes. More than hurricanes. Even more than earthquakes. Well, maybe not earthquakes.

I quickly downloaded The Weather Channel App onto my iPhone as we headed out the door.

To appease my growing concern and to unravel the frown that was wrinkling my forehead, Jay agreed to take a different route. We started heading north instead of east and found our way to Wakeeney, Kansas which was about 150 miles northwest of Witchita. A good thing too. Although there were no tornadoes in that area, the storm that hit Witchita was far worse than the one we woke up to in WaKeeney. In fact, a tractor trailer was blown over on 70, the route we would have been taking had we gone that direction. Still trying to outrun the storms, we headed north again before going east.

The above photo is an impromtu potluck dinner organized by our friends to celebrate our return.

April 26, 2014

It has only been a month since we arrived in the states and already Mexico seems like a lifetime past. I have heard that the magic number for cruisers to get hooked is 18 months. Once a cruiser hits that pivotal point, he/she either continues cruising for a unspecified period of time, or decides they miss their previous life, sell the boat and head back home. We spent eight months; from August, 2013 through March, 2014 on our first leg, and already I am hooked. So much so, that re-entry, as Jay likes to call it, has been a bit more difficult than anticipated.

There are a few ways to get back to the states from La Paz. You can drive, provided you have a car to begin with. You can take a bus. Or, you can fly. (I suppose you could sail your boat back too, but that wasn’t an option for us.) We chose to fly. Here we had two options. One was to take the shuttle, about a three-hour drive, and fly out of Cabo San Lucas to San Diego. The other choice was to leave directly from La Paz Airport, only a twenty minute drive from the marina. Only there are no direct flights to San Diego anymore. United Airlines discontinued the only La Paz to San Diego flight just last month. Therefore, the only choice from the La Paz Airport was on the Mexican Airlines, Volaris. Volaris flights are very reasonable. But it only flies within Mexico. This meant we would fly to Tijuana, disembark, catch a shuttle to the border, get dropped off, walk across the border, and then catch another shuttle which would take us either to the San Diego train station or airport. All this while lugging three suitcases, two backpacks filled with heavy electronics, an extra carry-on and a bag full of ceramic gifts.

The flight, itself, was uneventful. Actually, it was first-rate. It was a two-hour trip with good weather. The plane took off and landed on time. The Mexican flight attendants were extremely professional and quite attractive, too. A class act in their just-above-the-knee fuchsia dresses, adorned with light green silk scarves, complete with matching flight caps and shoes – reminiscent of the 1960’s airline era. Each wore their black hair tied neatly into a bun. Even their make-up, using colors to coordinate with their clothes, matched in perfect symmetry.

Getting on the airline was no different than what we would expect in the states. It was when we stood in front of the baggage rail that I became confused. Four airlines arrived at once and by the time our luggage whirled around on the carriage, the line to exit was over two hundred people deep. Jay and I waited our turn, not so patiently, and were perplexed as to what would be taking so long. Evidently, going through security to get on the plane wasn’t enough. Now we had to go through another security check just to leave the building. ( For what purpose, I wondered?) In addition to the x-ray machines, they randomly picked people and searched their luggage. It was over an hour later when we finally stepped out into the city of Tijuana only to be greeted by a cacophony of noise and a sea of people going in every direction. Following the signs, we turned right and were instantly swept up in the tide of human movement. Trying not to lose one another, we headed to the Volaris shuttle station, about a block away.

The shuttle was an easy ride that took us around the bumper to bumper traffic through a special lane. Walking through customs that day turned out to be a mere thirty minute venture. All was going well. Then, when the customs’ agent said, “Welcome home.” I looked at Jay in bewilderment. Home? Where is home?

I have lived in Mexico for the last five months and fell in love. I love the people, the culture, the music. I especially love their sense of humor and their warmth. I always felt welcome in their country. But here was my compatriot welcoming me home. And he was right. America is my home and I love it too. Still, I couldn’t help but be a bit disgruntled with the fast pace of life waiting for me on the other side of the border.

After traveling an average of six knots, driving 65 miles an hour was a bit of a shock. But it is more than the physical fast pace. It is the bombardment of information that clutters the mind with everyone else’s thoughts but my own. The radio, the news, iPads and iPhones, etc. It’s not even that I can turn them off, because there are televisions everywhere I go; waiting rooms, restaurants, airport lounges, and even (if you are in New York) on the streets! And each screen has something different on it with text and dialogue and visuals. Am I supposed to read it, or watch it, or listen to it? And which monitor should I watch? Should I watch the soccer game, or basketball? Or maybe the news?

This morning I was sitting with Jay at the breakfast table at our hotel in Roswell. We were having a conversation, or should I say, trying to have a conversation, but there was a television on with the morning news. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the images and was distracted. I snuck a peak at the TV but I couldn’t really hear it all that well because of the noise in the room. Curious, I began to read the text at the bottom of the screen but it had nothing to do with the picture I was seeing. Meanwhile, Jay was talking to me but I hadn’t heard a word of what he said. Nor did I have any idea what the news story was about!

Do I really need minute to minute details of a car chase? Or the opinions of the political pundits dissecting every move our government makes – or doesn’t? Who made them judge and jury? The gory details of the latest murder only provides me with nightmares. And I certainly don’t need to know if Kim Kardasian is getting married or gaining weight.

Something is definitely wrong with this picture. We listen and hear the voices of others with no interaction. We are told what to think, the best places to go and all about the newest, greatest gadget we just have to buy. We bury our heads in iPads and iPhones, watching everyone else’s life experiences through a screen while our own world around us, escapes, unnoticed.

But I digress.

There has been much joy coming home, as well. The joy of spending time with family and friends. We spent spring break in San Diego with Jay’s children and grandchildren, visiting parks and eating ice cream. (I think we visited every ice cream and yogurt store in Mira Mesa.) We went to Oxnard to see our friends. We hadn’t told anyone we were coming, It was Opening Day for our local yacht clubs and it was a great surprise when we walked through the door. So much fun.

Next we went back to Tubac where we visited with my mom while my brother and Michael went off to Hawaii for two weeks. Mom continues to decline; her body now as much as her mind. But she still knows both Jay and me and for that we are grateful. There were many bittersweet moments but all in all it is a great joy and privilege to still have her in our lives.

And now we are on our way home (our other home) to Martha’s Vineyard. A second road trip across country. I am excited. Jay, not so much. “It is a big country,” he says, “and we will be traveling in a small car. Besides, we just did this two years ago.”

“I know, but just think of it as another adventure.”

Just then, the TV got my attention again. Severe weather warnings for rain, hail and tornadoes – and we were heading right for it.

April, 2014

Up until “phase 1” of our journey on Cadenza had been completed, I had been absorbed with the day to day details of keeping the boat shipshape and the crew as happy as could be expected. My wonderful mate, Terri, has been assembling beautiful stories of the people and places we have been and the pictures which accompany her blogs have been inspiring.

So now, this is somewhat of a retrospective blog. And yes, the “water date” by-line has a unique reference to Star Trek. I was one of the principal composers of music for that franchise which through various permutations lasted nearly 18 years. It was there I met my wife, one of the producers of Deep Space Nine. Thus, the name of the boat Cadenza, a musical term meaning the section of a concerto where the performer plays freely at the end of the composition and expresses his unique interpretation of the musical material.

In the future, I plan to write a more elaborate piece on the music of Mexicoq we have encountered on our trip.

Perhaps it is easier to write about it after we have actually succeeded in making a section of the voyage .

But for any of those contemplating such a dream cruise, I have assembled some hints which I would have loved to have someone, especially a new cruiser, share with me.

First of all, the preparation was so much more difficult than the actual journey. Mostly because until the journey is completed the anticipation resides in the minds of those contemplating the trip.

Fear is real, until it is realized, then, one can say, oh, that wasn’t too bad. But the overall responsibility for other’s lives and well being is huge. Such as a transmission failure while entering a major shipping port at night. Anchoring with instruments only in a completely dark and strange port, sailing at 10.7 knots, 65 miles offshore and trying to have just enough night vision to actually see the sails.

Yep, it all sounds scary. IT WAS!

But not as frightening as untying those lines for the last time at a marina where Cadenza has lived for over 20 years.

And what about leaving all those friends and family, and the bills, mailings, trying to maintain a company with limited communication.

And, of course FIXING STUFF! The old adage of cruising is fixing stuff in exotic locations didn’t quite apply. We were fixing all sorts of things in a not too exotic location. We would watch our bank balances get depleted while I would confer with my pals and say,” Yep, it was another $2500 week.” And we hadn’t even left yet!

Then there were the going away parties. We had to restock our pantry and wine locker several times before we even left the country. Our dear friends even followed us by car to San Diego to bid farewell.

And when we were finally ready mentally, our adrenaline was jacked up so high, we said, “Screw it! Let’s not wait until dawn, let’s leave right now.” as no one was going to get a decent night’s sleep anyway.

We did it.
We actually left!

Went out of San Diego Harbor and straight to Mexico. What a thrill. One can follow Terri’s blogs with much more detail on each leg of the cruise along with an incredible photo gallery.

My writing after the fact is more about what to expect, what worked, what didn’t and what we wished for.

To begin with , Cadenza is an older boat. A vintage lass of 1979, heavy displacement Hardin 45. Big Isuzu 60 hp diesel with over 5000 hours. Lots of tankage. 200 gallons of fresh water and 150 gallons of fuel plus whatever extra we carried in tanks above, on the deck in storage. She weighs in around 38,000 pounds.

But, she can sail!

We carry a full batten main, a 160% genoa, a staysail, a mizzen and TWO spinnakers.

Downwind she can carry around 2500 feet of sail and can move along quite nicely. On the wind, 18 knots is her sweet spot. Don, our crewmate, for the trip down the outside Baja coast, got the thrill of clearing Cedros Island when a fresh breeze pushing 20 plus knots kicked in out of nowhere. He looked at us and cautiously asked, “When do we reef?”

“We don’t.” I said. And Terri enjoyed riding the forward rail as white spray was a flyin and Don was a grinnin. We had to pry the wheel away from him by the time we reached Isla Natividad off Turtle Bay.

That was the anomaly however. The wind is SUPPOSED to be out of the Northwest in November and December. Our prevailing winds down the coast were southerly, sometimes with an easterly component.

So it was a motoring trip or motor sailing if you like to consider the main as a vertical stabilizer.

I computed that in approximately 1600 miles of travel, we motorsailed at least 70% of the time. The wind was either on the nose or dead downwind, blowing that lovely diesel back into the cockpit.

Our fuel consumption was .625 gallons per hour at 1200 rpms.
Our water usage for 2 averaged 11 gallons per day.

One BIG thing that we learned was to make certain that the dodger or enclosure is vented to release the diesel fumes and associated carbon monoxide gas. If not, it simply collects under the dodger or bimini, usually affecting the helmsman the most.
It can be a killer.

Another realization is that the outside Pacific Coast of Baja is very cold. The water temps were barely in the 60’s. Those pictures of the scantily clad crewpersons must have been from warmer climes. We didn’t get rid of the sweats until Bahia Santa Maria and still needed them on a few more overnights.

Good night lighting (red lenses – especially on flashlights) are essential as one’s night vision gets so attuned to watching darkness, that even the little lights on the chart plotter seem distracting at times. Sometimes the stars, damn, they are just so bright! And then those big phosphorescent waves rushing by reflecting their own light. Its probably a good thing we didn’t see them in daylight. Everything seems bigger and louder at night.

Our running lights are up on the pulpit and sometimes they would reflect and it would appear that another boat was really close, even though the radar showed no targets. After a long watch, one starts to imagine all sorts of anomalies. A little duct tape over the reflective surface solved the problem.

Our nav systems worked well. We have a Raymarine E80 series running Navionics Platinum charts with radar overlay. This radar function was invaluable as we had to rely on the radar ONLY in many instances. We were also able to use the MARPA function to target ships and to identify their course and speed. We don’t as yet have AIS, and I suppose when crossing the Sea, we may add it, but unless it was a cruise ship, most of the other traffic was limited to fishing vessels, probably not carrying transponders.
In one entire month of cruising in the Sea of Cortez, we didn’t see one ship.

Our back up of choice was the Garmin 76 of which we have two. I sleep with one!
We also use Nobeltec Odyssey .

But the real surprise was how much more accurate the charts were for the iPad.
We ran INavx using both Navionics Charts and Blue Lattitude Press charts. The further up in to the sea we ventured, the less accurate the Platinum charts were.

And, of course, we had Terri, the primo navigator, graduate of several Orange Coast College Nav courses running fixes hourly on paper charts.

Next season we are ordering new paper charts from the Mexican Navy.

Not too often did you hear anyone say, “Where are we?”

The cruising guides of choice were Pat Rains’ Mexico Boating Guide and Shawn and Heather’s The Sea of Cortez, a Cruisers Guidebook. The latter has excellent chart inserts which are also available for the iPad.

We have an outstanding and efficient solar array. Two Kyocera 140 panels connected thru a Blue Sky controller tied into the mains with a Xantrex system. Also we carry two alternators, one for the engine, another for the house bank with an automatic charge relay to shunt the power from the starting alternator over to house bank. All using AGM batteries.

We have a ” backup” Honda 2000 generator. The only time it was run was to drain the fuel line at the end of phase one.

Cadenza is equipped with two refrigeration systems. An engine driven Technautics system for the “freezer” and an Adler- Barbour 12 volt system for the regular fridge. Both performed admirably, but on our wish list for next season would be a self-contained freezer such as the Engel which could actually freeze fresh food and keep it frozen at the dock or anchor without running the engine.

No real functioning watermaker at present. We have an old, fairly inefficient one, but we found fresh potable water readily available even in some remote locations.

The anchor and related equipment is essential. We have anchored more than 40 times in this first part of the journey in all sorts of conditions. We use a big bruce 65 on 3/8 chain as a primary. A Maxwell 2200 windlass on the bow also has all the halyards able to be led to it for pulling someone up the mast.

We never needed a stern anchor, although we carry 5 anchors on board.

The dinghy and davit system is also essential. Our dinghy is big. An Achiiles RIB at 11 feet and a Tohatsu 9.9 outboard. The dinghy is outfitted with Danard wheels, by far the strongest and best dinghy wheels. We have custom davits and a 5:1 block and tackle system which enables me to lower Terri in the dinghy to release the dinghy lines. I can also pull her up, after a bunch of huffing and puffing. Do I see an electric winch in the future?

We found it adequate, but a bit large and heavy for most of the Islands in the Baja. The coves are so shallow that we would have to anchor the dinghy and wade ashore and hope that it would be there when we returned. In most of these outings we reverted to our two trusty old kayaks.

Communication is handled by our Icom 802 SSB and Icom VHF. We also have an ICOM handheld. Weather, in English, was always available on the Ham nets.

Another interesting device onboard is the DeLorme SE satellite communicator. Not exactly a ” beam me up device,” but a very good system to keep in touch with family and friends and could be used in an emergency situation as well. It uses Iridium satellites and can be linked to ones’ smartphone.

We didn’t have a modem for our SSB and probably didn’t need one for cruising the sea. If we were crossing the Pacific, yes, probably, but Shea Weston, the SSB guru in San Diego showed us an amazing way of getting weather grib files on our Ipad using the audio output of the 802. The app costs $3.99. A lot more reasonable than the Pactor 4.

We also purchased a Telcel Banda Ancha USB card for the computers. This will allow you to connect to the internet wherever cell service is active. It can be switched from computer to computer and you can recharge online.

Cadenza now resides in La Paz where it is getting warm. Fans are essential, the more the better. We found a few which also have red and white led lights built in, so, one over the chart table would be a good addition.

Provisioning to feed a hungry and cold crew on the way down is probably in a forthcoming blog from Terri, so suffice it to say that when the boat is heeling and the omelets are flying all over the galley, please praise the chef on duty.

A serious suggestion is to get the book, Spanish for Cruisers by Kathy Parsons
It will save much embarrassment at the markets. Don and I ended up pointing to pictures of a pig at a local carniceria. Many areas speak some English, but a lot speak no English at all. We found that when we could engage the locals by asking them about their children, etc., we were much further along in the communication process. Sure beats pointing to your chest when trying to order chicken breasts. And especially helpful when dealing with some fairly complex mechanical issues.

There is an abundance of local foods available.

Cranberry sauce at Christmas time was the hard one to find. I can remember a very strange Christmas eve wandering around in a store shopping for food items in a language I didn’t totally understand, a system of weights and measures that were different and listening to Holiday music sung by the Carpenters. Completely surreal!

And I ended up with a kilo of tocino( 2.2lbs of bacon)

Warm beverages and a good way to keep them warm on watch are essential items coming down the coast.

The cold beverages come out later, but, be wary, beer and tequila are the drinks of choice. If you like a nice white wine, stock up in Ensenada, or else you might be looking at Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill. Seriously!

The wine country tour is absolutely worth the trip in Ensenada. The scenery is magnificent, the wines, especially the reds are first rate.

The ever present pangueros really like to rev up their huge outboards and travel at high speeds in the dark. They tend NOT to look up to see anchor lights. We noticed that the really veteran cruisers had elaborate lights at deck level so they could be seen.

We purchased a cute solar display for the stern and it has worked fine.

A few sailing oddities:

Sailing in the sea of Cortez in general is off the wind. Most real cruisers don’t try to beat their brains out going to windward. It’s not the wind that is the problem. It is the seas that are associated with the wind. A 6 foot square wave swell at 5 second intervals is not fun. It’s wet and you get salt all over everything and you can’t make much progress. Hole up in a snug anchorage with plenty of scope. Two days later it will be beautiful. Roll out the big genny and sail someplace.

As mentioned earlier, those beautiful turquoise coves are that color for a reason. They are shallow. Although we were impressed the first time we anchored in Bahia San Gabriel on Espiritu Santos. I looked down in 30 feet and could see all the chain and the anchor.

I suppose this log or blog could go on for some time, but I felt that an “after voyage” log or blog might be of help to someone contemplating such an adventure.

One of the most important things we did was to move aboard the boat long before attempting a long voyage. It is helpful to get used to being in a small space while it is relatively stable and its a good relationship test as well. Separate spaces are quite helpful at times.

I will also include a list of contacts for quality repairs and marina facilities along the way.
We found the Mexican workers to be extremely helpful, knowledgable and expert craftsmen.

To summarize:

Yes, fear is involved, soon to be erased by achievement.

There is no such thing as having enough knowledge, we learned something important and new everyday.

Your crew is more important than all the latest gizmos you may have aboard, for it will be the crewman and not the gizmo who will save your butt and make a good cup of coffee as well.

Cherish the friends you meet along the way as no sooner will you strike up a meaningful relationship than one of you may sail off to a different part of the world and you may never see each other again.

Part of cruising is letting go and its amazing that by letting go of so many seemingly important things, that one finds their true selves.

Just GO!

Appendix of referenced contact information:

Shea Weston- SSB Guru and shipboard communications at
Offshore Outfitters, San Diego 619.225.5690

Quantum Sails ( George Szabo) San Diego 619.226.2422

Downwind Marine, San Diego 619.224.2733

Steve Allport Solar installation and marine electric 805.985.0747

Channel Coast Marine ( Gary and Steve) Marine Electronics) 805.985.0747

Baja Naval Ensenada ( excellent hull and mechanical repair) 011 52 (646) 174 0020

Coral Marina, Ensenada, email marina @hotelcoral.com

Big Left Turn Enterprises (yacht management and supplies in La Paz, BCS) email : Tom Brown [email protected]

Blue Lattitude Press charts available thru www.x-traverse.com

Puerto Los Cabos Marina email : [email protected]

Marina Costa Baja, La Paz, BCS www.costabajaresort.com

Club Cruceros ( great cruiser resource in La Paz) www.clubcruceros.net

March 9, 2014

Six months ago we left Channel Islands Harbor and set sail for Mexico. Today is the last day of our four-week voyage into the Sea of Cortez. In a little over a month we will be back in the states and this will be but a memory. We will be on land, in a car, in traffic. We will be bombarded by the news and the internet and immersed in our cell phones. We will see our family and friends and ultimately find our way back home to Martha’s Vineyard. So much will be the same and everything will be different. Like with every adventure in life, one absorbs new horizons, opposing opinions and different cultures, then morphs into a fresh being, forever changed from the experience. This is clearly what has happened to us as we have finally moved from land life to Vagabundos del Mar.

Yesterday we found our way to El Cardonal on the island Partida. It is a long, deep bay with steep cliffs on either side. There is not much foilage, just tufts of grass and a few Cardon cactus and lots of sandstone and dirt. What makes this cove so beautiful is the water. It is not quite as dark as emerald green but if you could look at an emerald stone with the sun shining through it, that would be the color.

When we woke up this morning, there was only one other boat anchored in the bay. We met Jay and Barb, like most cruisers meet, on our dinghys when we are out cruising. We rafted up and sat drifitng while sharing stories of our past and dreams for the future.

Barb and Jay have owned Jupiter’s Smile, a Island Packet 370, for eight years now. They bought her in Florida and took her to the Bahamas, past Cuba, to Belize, and down the coast, through the Panama Canal and up into Mexico. They are thinking that next year they will head back the way they came, and end up in the Bahamas. This was of particular interest to us because this route is on our wish list. We were anxious to glean any hints they could offer about traveling Central America. Having drifted in the bay for thirty minutes or so, Barb invited us to continue our conversation over cocktails later on their boat. We happily agreed and then each went on our way.

Jay and I took the dinghy south to the next cove, El Cardoncito. (While Jay and Barb went north and saw the illusive Blue-footed Boobies, I found out later. I am so jealous!) El Cardoncito is much narrower then Cardonal and can probably only fit one or two boats at the most. It has a small beach with a hike up the rocks. On our way out of the bay we ran into some dolphins hanging out be a nearby reef. They seemed as curious about us as we were about them. A couple came right up to the dinghy! I couldn’t help but smile.

It was around 1500 or 3pm when we noticed a change in the air. I went topsides and watched as Cadenza was spinning, turning 180 degrees. The wind was now coming from the NW and the cumulous clouds were gathering. Soon the light changed as the sun was hiding behind the ever-increasing cloud bank. And then it happened. It rained! For over two hours! Now this might not seem strange to you, but in the three months we have been in the La Paz area, it has only rained one other time. And that was for minutes, not hours. It was a gentle rain, though, so we got into our dinghy, anyway, and headed over to Jupiter’s Smile.

We had a lovely visit and Barb and Jay shared lots of good information about their travels. Perhaps we will run into them again, next year, on the mainland, heading south.

That’s sort of how it goes with cruising. You meet up with someone, lose contact, and then run into them again in some other port. It is a good community of lasting friendships.

It is March 10th now and we are heading back to La Paz. Jay and I are quiet as we watch Isla Espiritu Santos fall into the background. We look at one another, knowing we are sharing such mixed emotions. We are really looking forward to seeing our family and friends. We are anxious to get back to our home on Martha’s Vineyard. But then there is part of us that doesn’t want to leave this adventurous lifestyle. Our souls are forever changed. We are Vagabundos del Mar.