Pacific Ocean 29 March 2010 20.0775N 112.1605W

Yesterday, I intended to describe the blues, but was distracted. You’d think focus would be easier here where there are so few distractions, but it’s focus of a different kind. Focusing on the blue water sliding by the shady side of the hull yesterday, I was trying to find an exact match for you to relate to. The closest I could come was Lapis Lazuli blue. The sparkling white foam from our wake add to that effect like the silver and quartz veins in Lapis. The color is most intense when you stare straight down on the shady side, the rest of the sea takes on the mood of the sky at a given moment, but straight down is where the pure blue lies. For anyone who has ever used Derwent Studios colored pencils, mixing oriental blue with ultramarine comes very close. Toady there is not a cloud in the sky. Sky is a tougher blue for me to pin down, but it’s very similar to the blue sky so prevalent in SoCal, so for those of you there, just go outside and look up. Then see if you can remember what you were writing before you went outside.

Last night (early this morning) was a “Thidwick the Kind Hearted Moose” night. First one Booby bird landed on one mast, then another on the second, then a third on the wire between the masts. It was fairly windy but they did not seem to mind being pitched around up there. At one point I counted five birds on the wire, when two Frigates came to vie for a place. Lots of missed attempts, lots of squawking, lots of guano on deck and off, and some amazing acrobatics as they hovered waiting for wire or mast to swing close before attempting a landing. They kept at it for my entire watch and Frank says they didn’t leave till dawn, when one dove from the mast to intercept a flying fish. Then they all cleared out for breakfast. We’ve been seeing the masked boobies all day. I expect they’ll be back at it tonight. We’re not planning to shed these antlers like Thidwick, but we are trying to get to the other side of the lake where there’s more moose moss to munch.

Frank saw a tropic bird this morning – now there’s an adaptation that baffles the mind, with one big long streamer feather trailing behind. If you’re the only bird up that high, I guess you need something to catch your lady’s eye, how else would she find you with all that sky. Sorry, must be the Dr. Zeuss reference above; I’m sure he saw one of these birds in his lifetime and was inspired. I have not seen one in 13 years and I’m really looking forward to it.

We sailed all night and all day, running the engine only to get some refrigeration going. Logan is practicing his Ukulele. We found some lessons online in LaPaz; he now knows 3 cords, and the first notes for picking “Wipe Out.” His plan is to get “Wipe Out” perfect before he arrives in Tahiti, so from the beach he can serenade his cousin Mauna surfing. Kennan is working on plans for a 2-brother submarine pop-pop boat (he’s working on his oral presentation now). Frank is with them in the cockpit, eyes closed, brow furrowed – I think he’s wishing we hadn’t taught Kennan to talk, and wishing that Logan could learn just one more chord. I did get some sleep, never as much as I’d like, I think I’ll go try for some more – the engine makes a nice white noise to drown out the cockpit cacophony, should put me right to sleep (please, please, please).

xoxomo

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Pacific Ocean 28 March 2010

We lost sight of land early this morning, sometime between the end of my night watch (5 a.m.) and the beginning of my day watch. Actually we’re pretty loose about the day watches, and a little more formal about the night watches, but we’ve not yet settled on the best times for both of us. I’m not so great at sleeping during the day (and being a light sleeper, I’m not much better sleeping at night). But it’s the first day, so I need to not be too hard on myself. Still sleep is a bit of an obsession of mine right now. The kids help out during the day, so naps are possible for both of us, if I can find the ever flighty sleepy feeling, tired is easy to find, sleepy not so easy.

Winds and seas are calm and we motored most of the day today. A nice breeze picked up an hour ago, so the engine is off, and the waves are lapping at the hull as we glide by. A nice sound to sleep by if one could stop obsessing about sleeping. We’re sailing at a comfortable 6-7 knots, wind on the beam, our TTG (Time to Goal) is flashing between 16 and 18 days (last night it was flashing between 45-55 days when the wind died down and we were sailing 3-4 knots).

Otherwise all’s well aboard and the winds are indeed fair.

xoxomo
Franksciptum: the prize of the day goes to the little blue engine that can.

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East of Pulmo Reef Sea of Cortez 27 March 2010

After a long and stressful day of being shuffled around by bureaucrats, we managed to acquire all the legal paperwork to exit Mexico including a nice frameable certificate that would make a kindergartner proud. Strange but none of our bureaucrats cared that we left the U.S.; they’re more concerned with the entry side of the coming and going equation in the U.S. Silver Lining even had a full health inspection to verify that we were not kidnapping any Mexican cockroaches or rats. The Mexican health officials didn’t seem to care about diseases the crew might be carrying, and if they’d found any beasts I doubt they would have made us stay, but the expensive inspection was a requirement to get our “Zarpe” (that nice certificate). My modus operandi has always been to do everything above board, legal and by the book, but I’ll admit that I was pushed as close as I’ve ever been to stepping over that line and just sailing away without the Zarpe. Frank was far over the line, and at one point we even had the cab driver go around the block twice so I could fully contemplate that line, before stopping to pay the fee for the health inspection at the finance minister’s office (our 6th stop of 10 to complete the process).

So around noon on Friday we headed North out of La Paz, spent one last night in Espritu Santo before beginning our southern decent as scheduled on Frank’s Birthday and our anniversary – 46 and 16 years respectively. And adding to this auspicious beginning – we received news last night that Marsha can officially add “Grand” to her title GrandMarsh has a nice ring to it! Congrats to the whole family! Thrilled to hear that all are healthy, and that he picked such a special day to be born!

We spent one last night at anchor, slept the sleep of the dead at Los Muertos, then up at the crack of dawn this morning to catch a healthy northerly blow south. 2800 Miles to go before I sleep – well before I sleep that soundly again. From the bay of the dead to the bay of traitors*, are we moving up in the world or down? Frank says, up in longitude, down in latitude.” I hope your own ups and downs are keeping you on your toes and ready for life.

xoxomo

*Los Muertos – La Baie des Traitres

P.S. To all our newfound friends we met and left in La Paz, sorry for the very quick goodbye, hope your own fair winds follow along with you, and we’ll keep an eye out for your boats on some future horizon. Best! -SL and crew

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21 March 2010 (Joyeux Anniversaire Hina!) La Paz, Baja California, Mexico 24.1635N 110.3254W

I can’t believe my last entry was March 7 and we’re way into the double digit side of March. Town life definitely doesn’t leave much room for expressing my own voice. If our crossing to the Marqueses is on the fast side, we could end up spending more time here provisioning for it, than actually doing it. Frank and I have been abandoning the kids with their homework in the morning, and heading into town for a variety of chores and errands, which seem to reproduce at an astounding rate. Afternoons are then spent with projects, puttering and playing. The kids are borrowing the keys to the dinghy and developing their own social circle (which, if we can get out of town, will eventually be a circle that encompasses the pacific ocean). We’ve also met some neat people, and cruisers tend to be on very relaxed schedules, in fact “schedule” at a scale most of you would recognize (starting with daily events) does not really exist in our new world. Schedule in this life is tied to seasons, weather and the parts delivery guys. It makes for a very non-committal outlook.

Our excuse for not leaving as planned mid-week last week, is a new compressor for our mechanical refrigeration. Our old compressor felt new (we remember Gary installing it), but it was based on the old freon, and it was acting up. Mexico is one of the few places you can still buy the old freon (ironically, Frank says it was a Mexican researcher Mario Juan Molina who discovered that the old freon was partly responsible for the hole in the ozone, he even received a Noble Chemistry prize for the discovery). But in our travels ahead it will not be available. And we’ve taken such an extreme path to reducing our own family’s carbon footprint; going green in this area seems both the practical and responsible thing to do. What’s an extra week in La Paz, next to that justification?! While the compressor did not arrive Friday or yesterday as expected, in the ever resourceful spirit that Mexico’s citizens can be proud of, our vendor took two compressors off his shelf and had a local mechanic merge them to make our needed compressor with a two belt clutch instead of the one belt clutch he had in stock. Half an hour after his delivery showed up without our order, we walked out happy customers. The mañana method in Mexico does build incredibly innovative souls, as well as the virtue of patience (patience – use it or lose it). Innovation and patience being high commodities of the cruising life, I am truly appreciating those aspects of this culture. Innovation is a word that was unfortunately overused in my recent past life as an IT manager. The “make changes in something established” aspect of innovation can too easily become “reinventing the wheel.” And while we humans derive tremendous satisfaction from inventing – innovating before going down the invention path can be the quicker road to workable solutions. It does mean having a thorough understanding of what has already been done first (e.g. studying – ugh). In our own culture of instant gratification, maybe we need to be careful of invention addiction, and develop true skills of innovation. Watch me try to teach that concept to our own budding inventor Kennan, who, though not yet a teen, thinks he knows it all without studying.

Think we’ll make it out of here by mid-week next week? Our new goal is to leave before our anniversary (a.k.a Frank’s birthday). That’s a worthy goal, almost seasonal.

xoxomo

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8 March 2010 (not 2101) La Paz 24.1572N 110.3312W

Well, last night was another short one. Years of life in L.A., with kids, and our own menagerie were good preparation for sailing. How many times did I get up in the wee hours to calm a fever, open a door for a cat, comfort a lonely puppy, chase away a raccoon, and even once chase a baby possum off our bed? And how many times were we awakened by a neighbor ‘s house or car alarm, spawning koi, a car revving it’s engine at 2 a.m., or a helicopter circling too close for comfort? And how often was it that sleep just eluded me afterward, as thoughts of the next day’s tasks, or the previous day’s errors plagued me incessantly? So, the gentle rocking that sent me to sleep livened up a bit and became the clarion call to greet a new day. I would have preferred something other than 2 a.m. for that call, but I’m writing this to convince myself, that if it wasn’t getting up at 2 a.m., here, it very well could have been 2 a.m. there. And at least here, I do have the option of an afternoon nap, or an extremely early bedtime.

The winds and seas were so confused with swells coming from the southeast and northeast, winds coming from the southwest, but predicted to be from the northwest. What side of an island do you pick when all sides are under siege. I can see why some cultures, and especially early cultures that lived closer to the land and sea, believe(d) in multiple gods. When the winds and seas are at odds, it’s hard to imagine it being part of one god’s plan. It’s much easier to picture two strong personalities fighting for power. After all, one is not necessarily more evil than the other, they just have a difference of opinion about how things should proceed. And depending on what side of the battle we humans happen to be on (e.g. fisherman or farmer), we may have a closer affinity to one god over the other, and while one man may be praying for heavy rains for crops, the other is likely praying for clear skies and strong winds from the right direction for an easier passage. If they’re both praying to the same god, and they’re equally devout and their requests are equally worthy, that’s putting one god in a tough spot. Hell of a job, to quote Keith Richards.

With the unpredictable winds and seas, and most of the good anchorages on our way being south facing to the wind, or east facing to the seas, we decided to head straight for La Paz. In the interest of honesty between friends here, the fact that we’d opened our last bottle of wine the night before, may have contributed to our decision. We sailed all day today and arrived just after sunset (with a full charge on the batteries, and lots of fresh water in the tanks, ahem, yea, we motored a lot). We’ve got strong south winds now in the anchorage and we’re ready to dance the La Paz waltz, complete some final projects, eat some fresh fruits and veggies, and check the lists we’ve already checked twice. We left La Paz on February 15, that’s 3 weeks since we last set foot in a town. Frank has calculated our passage to the Marquesas at 20-40 days. Our provisions held up almost perfectly for this 21 day test run. We’ve got enough freeze-dried food on board for 3 months, but the heavily rationed items were Jello for the kids, libations for the adults, and flour (we’d be better with enough for a second loaf of bread every other day). My bigger concern is sleep, it’s one thing to be awakened and suffer through a single day exhausted, but the long term effects of sleep deprivation worry me. Frank says I’ll acclimate and learn to sleep at the drop of a pin like he does. I sure hope so, I better go practice now. Sweet dreams.

xoxomo

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6 March 2101 East Side, Isla San Francisco 24.8293N 110.5667W
Isla San Francisco Picassa Pictures

Last night was calm, but early in the morning we heard little flick flicks of water against the hull, which turned into flap, flaps then FLOP FLOPs. You can tell a south wind is coming way before there’s any change of the wind here. The water sends it’s Braille alert ahead of time, but reading Braille, I hear, takes some practice, and it’s easy at four in the morning to sleep right through a Braille alert till you’re practically tossed out of bed by the waves. Ultimately the signals will not be ignored. So at the crack of dawn we heave-hoed on the chain and hauled in the anchor and made our way around to the other side of this island – well, the windlass heave-hoed; I just stepped the button, there was a time when we did the heave-hoing on our anchor (well, we…Frank) I don’t think we (all of us we) could manage hauling in the anchor without a mechanical assist given our current ground tackle. There’s probably a math equation in there – the weight of 75# of anchor plus 10 feet of 7/16 inch chain and another 50-200 feet of 1/2 inch chain (depending on how deep we anchor), plus resistance of water and the anchoring medium (sand or rock), but we already finished math today. Motors, pulleys, and a wide variety of other mechanical devices have given us the lives of kings and pharaohs. We have motors to raise the anchor, to produce energy from the wind, to cool the icebox(es), to process our poo, to grind our coffee, and even to brush our teeth (apologies for the inappropriate proximity of those phrases). We use pulleys and winches to raise and trim the sails, to load and unload the dinghy and outboard, and to send Logan to his new favorite place. Not much gets done on board without a mechanical assist of some kind, it beats having to feed and whip slaves to do the job for you, but it does come with it’s own challenges; we are now only limited by our own ingenuity (or more accurately, Frank’s ingenuity) to come up with the variety of fixes that mechanical solutions ultimately require. I say this as Frank just emerged from another aromatherapy session in the engine room – it’s sauna-like environment augments the special odors stored there, diesel fumes and special of the day our own eau de toilette. If there were a plumber in the anchorage, we’d happily hire him, although we’d probably have to press him into service. There’s a job, the captain has found no volunteers for. And it’s a job that won’t be ignored. Lots about this life won’t be ignored, especially anything to do with our sewage system. Today we (the we-Frank we) are trying to discover why the backflow preventer on our sewage zapper, randomly stops preventing backflow. Where’s the cat-o-nine tails when you need it. We officially have a good excuse for another shore party. Land-Ho.

Later!

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5 March 2101 PM West Side, Isla San Francisco 24.8207N 110.5702W
Isla San Francisco Picassa Pictures

So according to Christina, it’s better if I try to do a quick separate post for each point I want to add to the map, so the maproom feature shows the path. Even if I don’t have anything new to say, I’ll try to at least send our position as it changes. When the prevailing winds stop being prevailing like we’ve been seeing recently, that means we move around a lot.

Thanks to a very kind neighbor – who took pity on our provisioning situation and gave us a nice cold Ballena sized Pacifico (THANKS RUTEA!) – we were able to stay here a day and explore the mangroves behind Bahia Amortajada. They were beautiful, no clams, but some huge fish were visible. Frank and Logan went back in the afternoons to fish, but after catching one, the were chased by swarms of no-see-ems back to the boat. The no-see-ems followed them all the way, and we were obliged to high-tale it out of that anchorage, with a cloud of bugs hot on our heals. Strange, we saw a few on our morning trip, but nothing like the masses in the afternoon. A short 1 hour hop south to Isla San Francisco was apparently far enough from their home base to make them nervous, they turned tail and ran back when we reached the point. Now we’re nursing the angry red welts they left behind. Who’d have thought such a small little beast could pack such a powerful punch! There are lots of boats in our new anchorage. I think we’ve officially made it back to civilization.

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4 March 2010 Bahia Amortajada, Isla San Jose 24.8791N 110.5770W
Bahia Amortajada Picassa Pictures

Yesterday we motored most of the day from Isla Santa Catalina to San Evaristo, the plan was to spend the day exploring the tiny village, but this morning a swell from the south made our south facing anchorage a little bouncy, and we decided to head across to Amortajada on Isla San Jose. We went for a beach hike this afternoon; the textures of every beach and cove are so different. This was not a sandy beach, but the spit had big granite rocks smoothed by the surf, many of the rocks on the high flats were cracked – decomposed granite in the making, just baking in the sun. There were lots of large shells old and weathered, probably remnants of a past repast. Funny how all the guide books claim of any shell midden, “this was a prime spot where indians would camp, so they could see their enemies coming from afar.” As if the indians didn’t appreciate a simple great view as much as we do now. Why does every historic purpose have to be concerned with religion, survival or war? Yesterday I saw a midden half way up the face of a cliff. There was no obvious path up from the shore, nor down from the mountain above, but there was a nice shelf in the cliff with a great view back to San Evaristo bay and the mountains beyond. I’m sure it would have made a great pre-western-civilization hang out spot – the challenge of the climb, the spectacular view, the flat rock to lay on – the site had real appeal. Yes you could probably see your enemies come from miles away, and drop rocks on their heads if they tried to steal your clams, but I kind of doubt that’s why they climbed that cliff for their meal.

Speaking of doing things just for the pleasure of it. Logan has found a new favorite place on the boat – up the mast. He keeps asking us to send him half way up, where he can swing in an arc around the mast between the port and starboard shrouds. When he was a baby, we had one of those baby bouncers we’d hung from the boom (not having a door frame to hook it to), which he loved then as much as he loves this now. I’m wondering if this place is calling to some part of his infant self. I guess there are worse ways for a teenager to get high. And he can warn us if any enemies approach, and drop winch handles on them if they try to steal the last of our beer.

There’s a mangrove swamp behind this long sand spit, where 13 years ago Frank found some delicious clams – maybe we’ll have time to explore tomorrow. But flour, milk, beer and wine are in short supply on board, and unless we start strict rationing, we may need to set a more direct course for La Paz. Besides it’s hard to imagine a clam feast without white wine (for the sauce at least!).

xoxomo

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3 March 2010 South End, Isla Santa Catalina 25.6026N 110.7760W
Isla Catalina Picassa Pictures

I vacillate between making this a sailing blog, a travel blog and a life blog. We’re seeing some amazing things and moving from place to place, but we’re also embarking on a new lifestyle which has all the boring accoutrements of any day-to-day life, but with an adaptive shift appropriate to life on a boat – which just happens to be moving from place to place. So the places we see and visit, are neat and exciting and fun to describe, but many people have been here before us and done a better job describing than I could. The details of sailing from point to point, are probably only of interest to sailors planning a similar trip. And I’m not sure anyone would be interested in the tedium of a family of four adjusting to life in 400 unsquare feet (and not 100 u.s.f. for each of us – the engine room alone is probably 30 s.f. the squarest space onboard). And then there’s the whole topic of how we got to this point in our lives now, shedding the golden fleece to sail past the west end and all. In some ways that was the final chapter in some other book, meanwhile we’re working on the living happily ever after part of that old book. So while some of you know already know some bits, and some of you are interested in other pieces. I apologize to all who find the bits and pieces I tackle on a given entry tiresome as I jump from one theme to another.

So a short update with the travel log theme. After 3-4 days in Puerto Ballandra, we headed over for to Isla Santa Catalina for another couple days. This Baja Catalina is a rarer destination in these parts, we were the only sailboat in the small cove, although we were joined by a small tour boat for half a day. It was odd to suddenly be surrounded by people, after being fairly isolated for awhile. We anchored adjacent to the big “elephant” rock that decorates the west side of the cove. My favorite part of this island was the stands (groves?) of huge Caldron cactus and giant Barrel cactus, both just starting to bloom. We’ve not seen these barrel cactus on any of the other islands. According to our Baja Plant Guide, the Indians used them for food for their pigs and cattle, so plant populations on islands closer to land, may have taken a hit. A man-sized barrel cactus can be hundreds of years old. “Barrel” is only marginally descriptive of their form – the young ones are perfect balls or eggs, mature ones rise up like great columns, and on some of the really old ones the cylinder starts to sag, reminiscent of the fleshy folds on the torso of a well fed baby. They’re all very photogenic.

On the life-on-a-boat theme, we’ve been spending a lot of time on projects. Frank finished painting the cockpit. I’ve tackled a couple sewing projects – with screens for the hatches being the more urgent (It’s difficult to focus on algebra with yellow jackets buzzing around your head). We’ve not been to a town since we left La Paz, so we’ve been testing our provisioning skills. A little more flour per day and a lot more milk will keep the crew happy for our big passage, otherwise, I think we’ve managed pretty well. And we’ve got some work to do with organizing cupboards. There is a constant balancing act on a boat of having adequate storage, and having easy access to the things you’ve stored. If your kitchen were healed over 15-20 degrees, and your kitchen floor and all it’s cupboards were violently moving up and down 1-2 feet, and your stove-top supply bottle of olive oil ran dry, you too would want to know exactly where the funnel was (no way you can count on a steady-hand-over-the-sink free pour), and you probably would not want to remove all the fishing gear from the cupboard before you could reach your Costco sized Olive oil container. And you really probably would not want to to move all the cushions off the dining room chairs – which double as the living room couch – to reach it either, which means that the Costco sized container, must be near the top of one of the cupboards closest to the kitchen (if you use as much olive oil as we do). Sounds logical, but there are a limited number of those cupboards close to the kitchen, and an infinite number of handy things you need to access frequently that want to go there, since close to the kitchen is also close to the nav station and close to the cockpit, and close to the office and close to…well suffice to say that the easy access cupboards near the kitchen are in high demand. Complicating this easy access issue, anything you take out of a cupboard must also go right back in, or risk becoming a dangerous projectile once you’ve set it down. So all objects need a secure home – salt, pepper, spices, supply bottles of oil, vinegar, soy, maple, syrup etc. And our kitchen is the size of a broom closet in most homes – which is why the stove-top supply bottle of olive oil is so small that it requires frequent refills in the first place. The final coup de grace that may dissuade other happy families from following in our footsteps, is the fact that the nearest grocery store may be 2000 miles away and if you have any neighbors, they’re not likely to have an extra cup of sugar, or you may not be able to get there to borrow the cup of sugar, so you truly have to bring it all with you, it’s a lot to store, and it takes a lot of trial and error to find the exact right spot for a given item. We do attempt to be fair in allocation of cupboard space, but it’s not a democratic process, and the captain gets the final say. Although as we’ve discovered, too little of the easy access cupboard space for the crew, can result in it’s own mutinous conditions with nothing ever getting put back in it’s place, and a chaotic mess to live in (beyond even our normal chaos). So we’re going through the cupboard dance, with items shifting from place to place in an attempt to find the perfect fit for all the puzzle pieces. I just hope that when we set sail for 20-40 days, I can still find the funnel.

xoxomo

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24 Feb 2010 Puerto Ballandra, Isla Carmen 26.0200N 111.1652W
Partida to Isla Carmen Picassa Pictures

We’ve had some strange winds keeping us on our toes. On our toes, in this case means getting less sleep, taking fewer shore trips, zig-zag sailing, changing destinations mid passage, and generally keeping a close eye on the weather reports, and a closer eye on the weather at hand. All of this seems to sap motivation for writing. So for the past week our daily task of safe-sailing has taken a chunk of life’s focus; and yet it’s subtasks are made up of lots of little decisions based on vague and impermanent facts making that very focus difficult. Mix in a little fatigue and it leaves me without the extra bandwidth for creative pursuits. Bandwidth! Now there’s a word I have not used in a couple months; that and multitasking. All these computer terms that have slipped into our language, to draw parallels between human behavior and computer behavior. If personification is applying human traits to the nonhuman; what would this new trend be? technoification or computification? Life on a boat, does not usually bring to mind parallels in computing (nor parallelization). The notion of multitasking does not exist here; unless, you call reading while on watch multitasking – but even there, you actually have to stop reading to watch, and stop watching to read. All other activities are singletask in nature. If I’m making bread and there’s a fish-on or a wind shift requiring assistance on deck, all bread-making stops, and deck activity starts – ideally with a brief interval to stow any open containers that may spill in the maneuver and to make my way to the cockpit (with any required tools and without any head or shin bumps). It is possible to bump my head and shin simultaneously while on my way to the cockpit causing me to drop the fishnet, that’s probably the closest I come to multitasking these days, but I think that qualifies more as a multitasking error.

I think I read somewhere that true multitasking like computers do (performing multiple calculations simultaneously), is not actually possible for humans, unless you count breathing and typing as multitasking. Our brains don’t seem to be able to think two things at once, and what many call multitasking in humans, is actually just rapidly switching between tasks, which according to the report I read, is not an efficient use of human brains, although our children are getting better at it than we are, and so human brains may eventually adapt. On Silver Lining, switching rapidly between tasks is risky. We try to perform tasks methodically and without injury. There is no delete button for an accidental jibe, and no retrieve function for an overboard winch-handle (although with luck there may be a backup).

All this is a long excuse for the long silence. I’ll attempt a shortish version of what we’ve been doing since La Partida (2/19/10). This is more of a log version of the past few days, not the blog version. But I’m hoping you’ll find it somewhat interesting with the map right there for you to try to piece together our trajectories (I’m still trying to figure out if I can get multiple points on one map for you).

After harnessing the south winds to bring us North, we sailed straight to the east side of Isla Carmen(2/20/10), passing a number of islands that we hope to visit on our way back. We were unsure how long the winds would last, and debated going further north; but the winds appeared to be shifting counterclockwise around to the southwest, with northwinds in the 24-48 hour forecast. So we chose a good night’s sleep over northward progress. We had picked an ideal protected anchorage on the west side as our destination but by the time we rounded Point Lobos on the northeast end of Carmen, the winds were coming full west, dead on the nose, so we turned 180 degrees, sailed back around into Bahia Salinas, a wide white sandy beach bay with no protection from southwinds, but good protection from winds coming from SW all the way to winds from the NE (but given it’s low terrain, it could still be very windy in northwinds). We stayed there for 2 nights (2/20/10 – 2/21/10), keeping an eye on the weather, which was supposed to be light north winds, but for us felt more like a steady west wind. West is unusual her. Prevailing winds usually running parallel to the sea itself funneled N or S by big hot desert land masses, but the tall mountains and cliffs of the islands do some odd things to the wind around them. “Your results may differ,” should be an assumption added to every weather report. We caught up on sleep and school, and a quick beach trip kept us sane. On 2/21 in very calm weather we headed around the west side of Isla Carmen, thought about stopping in an old favorite anchorage on Danzante, but winds were predicted to increase, and we still thought Puerto Ballandra seemed like a good place to hole up for some windy days.

And so we come to our current position. Ballandra, a quintessential C-shaped cove, protected us nicely in the gale force winds we had yesterday. We started out at the wrong side of the cove, wanting to leave some breathing room for another boat already here. Early yesterday morning, after a rocky sleepless night with increasing refraction waves in the southern half of the bay, we moved to the north side. Here the wave action was a little calmer. But it was still a 24 hour wild ride. At some gusts the water next to the boat produced spindrifts (nice word for the smoking long snakey trails of windwhipped sea that occur around 40 knots). And the view of the waves outside the cove galloping by was impressive. The ham operator weather guy calls the big white caps here buffaloes; these looked more like mammoths to me, but Frank would probably say I should save that term for the South Pacific.

With the rough night and the rocky ride at anchor I called a wind-day on school activities (no school, but no computers), so the free day had Kennan and I lost in a Hilari Bell fantasy trilogy that takes place in a desert (true escapism). Logan was desperately trying to finish Henry Dana so he could move on to funner stuff, but after 3 chapters he shifted to listening to reruns of his favorite radio show, NPR’s “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell.”*

Our new-to-us anchor seems to be landing and sticking every time, despite some infamy the CQR earned in an anchor test comparison done a few years back. We had a 35# CQR on Bille en Tete, without a dragging incident in it’s 15 years aboard. This 75# version seems to be as promising, holding well through a couple of rounds with a windy La Paz Walz, and now a good solid gale (gale = 34-40 knots or Force 8 on the beaufort). Frank’s theory on anchors is that weight matters more than shape, and having ridden many blows and a few tropical storms out at anchor, his opinion is based on much more than anecdote (if not quite a full survey). But until I’ve amassed a similar critical mass of anecdote, I’ll continue to sleep lighter than he at anchor (or maybe he just sleeps better knowing that I’m sleeping lightly). Thank you Kay for Frank’s sound sleep at anchor since we wed, and thanks Gary for keeping Frank busy now, by letting go of all that you built, so we could tinker, trade, adjust and abuse to suit our own harebrained ideas (if they’d had a 75# Delta at Minnies for trade, we would have gone for it, and those new hi-tech hi-performance German anchors are not showing up yet on Minnie’s used anchor shelf).

xoxomo

*A digression I decided to move out of the body of this message: I would say podcasts, ebooks and iTunes are transformative to the cruising experience. But without internet, any digital rights management limitations are a nightmare! It can be a major pain to move between the variety of devices a family of 4 may have on hand to listen, read or watch. And any requirements to login to a central server with a code or key are impossible, to all the software and media companies who target only a connected market: No, the whole world is not wired (or wireless)! And, offline has it’s advantages (great virus protection, no distraction through websurfing possible, books you bought can’t be confiscated by the company that sold them to you). I’ll work on a longer list of advantages to offline living.

Feb. 24 winds have died down to 15-20 knots, and we slept better last night.

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