Letter from La Paz, Nov. 16, 1996


Hi,

We're in La Paz, Baja California Sur, Mexico, anchored out about 1/4 mile from town. The evening breeze is cool, the day was hot. Music and the smell of good food is wafting out from the waterfront restaraunts. Marc and Anna and I are in good health and spirits, and Espire is performing wonderfully.


The last time I found a cybercafe, we were in Marina del Rey, LA area.


From there, we had a pleasant motor through fog most of the way to Isthmus Cove at Two Harbors on Santa Catalina island. We were able to sail the last few hours. During the foggy part, though, we were hosts to a pair of yellow (land) songbirds who were apparently lost too far from shore. They flitted all around the boat, even into the cabin, then left when the vis got better.


Two Harbors is beautiful. I was able to track down an old friend who was skipper of the boat on which I sailed from Hanalei to Ventura some years ago. On the way to San Diego, we sailed past the mouth of Avalon, but didn't feel like stopping; it seemed too big and bustling compared to Two Harbors.


The overnight to San Diego featured diminishing wind and a lot of freighter traffic crossing our course. We had a particularly interesting interaction with a pair of cruise ships. They were lit up like Times Square, and it was not possible to see any running lights, etc., in all the glare. We got them on the radio, though, and they could see a sailboat alright, but they gave us perfectly nonsensical advice about how to avoid them. After some few minutes of anxiety, it turned out that they were looking at a different sailboat, on their far side, which apparently wasn't listening to the radio. Once we got that sorted out, they dodged the other boat and we dodged them all in fine form.


San Diego was nice, but we were there on a mission, and not to relax. We finished buying, installing and refurbishing all manner of stuff. Also, Anna and I passed our HAM amateur radio Technician tests. We did some sightseeing the day we rented a car to do the "heavy" grocery shopping. We also got our Mexican paperwork done. With some time left over, we visited the house I lived in in third through fifth grades, and the elementary school I went to. The last couple days also featured parties thrown for the soon-to-depart cruisers.


Finally, the big day came: the start of the Third Annual Latitude 38 Baja Ha-Ha cruisers rally. Of the hundred+ boats that were signed up, some seventy-odd were actually ready and present at the starting line. It was quite a sight, as a mixed fleet of fast boats and mostly overloaded cruisers charged off to Mexico. A photographer in a chopper took pictures as we went. (Proceeds from sales of the photos benefit the orphanage in Cabo San Lucas.)

We had a fresh southerly breeze for the start, but it died slowly, and all but one of the Ha-Ha fleet elected to motor (penalty but not DSQ) at some point during the night. When the breeze returned the next day, we were running in a light northerly. Nights throughout the Ha-Ha were busy keeping track of the fleet spread out all around us. Freighter (and Mexican Navy) traffic was less of a problem as the first Ha-Ha boats to spot "intruders" broadcast positions and course and speed estimates on the radio. We got to our first stop after 60-few hours at sea, of which about 12 were motoring; that got us a 3rd in our class.


The first stop was in Bahia Tortugas (Turtle Bay). It's a beautiful bay and a good anchorage, with a small town. We enjoyed a walk through and to the outskirts of town, a drink at the modern gringo bar, then slipped away for some excellent carne asada and patiently amused language lessons at a shack near the beach. The next day we had a barbeque on the beach, featuring a lot of fish caught by some of the "racers." We enjoyed the setting and the people, and could happily have stayed for days.


But it was not to be. The next day, the race was on again.


The start was much less concentrated this time, with many boats late getting underway. The wind was brisk from the north. With the genoa stretched out by the spinnaker pole, Espire was flying, nearly keeping up with the bigger and faster boats with their heavy spinnakers. It was intoxicating, that's the only excuse I can offer. We were doing a steady 8 kts. plus, in wind gusting over 30 kts. We hit 9.6 kts. at some point, the electronics accuse, but we didn't see that; we only saw that Espire was running with the big dogs, and leaving most of the fleet far behind. Also, we caught the first of four skipjacks (a delicious dark-meated tuna-like fish); cleaning it may have contributed to a lack of focus aboard.

Then, with a sound like someone stepped on a beer can, the spinnaker pole folded neatly over. It's not supposed to do that. Bummer. We got the pole (poles-- I had to saw it in half at the "elbow") put away, and the genny set, now only able to broad reach, not run. The wind continued to build, and eventually we were running again, with a double-reefed main. During this period, several of the fast boats blew up their spinnakers, but they were already far ahead. We had to suffer the indignity of being passed by all the boats who should (had we been sensible) have been in front of us in the first place.

Oh, and also, a bit before sunset we ran over a big patch of kelp (?), which partially disassembled the wind-vane self-steering. We had to hand steer until dawn; once the sun was up, the vane was easy to reassemble.

We got into Bahia Santa Maria the middle of our second night, picked our way through the anchored trawlers, anchored ourselves, and slept a deep, deep sleep.


In the morning, we were stunned twice. First, Bha. Sta. Maria is quite beautiful. Stumbling blinking onto deck to greet the sun, we were overwhelmed by the scenery. To the north, high arid hills, abrupt cliffs, and a beach with biggish breaking surf provided us with shelter from the wind. Curving from east to south was a sandspit topped with some grasses, leading to another arid hill/cliff closing the bay. To the west, we looked out on the Pacific, which rolled us gently. No town; just a surf camp looking like a lone barracks perched on one cliff, and a fish camp of a few almost unnoticable lean-tos and shacks on another beach. It was good. Stun number two was word over the radio that we weren't going to stay very long. Someone in the fleet had to hurry to Cabo to get on a flight to go and brief the President (or something), so leg three's start was moved up to the next day. Hmmph. Oh, well. We spent the day that we did get relaxing. It was still good.


Morning came, and we had another good start for the final leg of the sail. The wind was behind us again, and we really wished we still had the spinny pole to use. The whisker pole is nice, but we have to take it down when the wind gets over 20 kts., and it doesn't hold the genny out as far.

We caught two more skipjacks, but released them, since our fridge still had plenty of skipjack and the freezer had some donated yellowtail.


Around sunset the second day we crossed the finish line off Cabo Falso. I keep saying that the scenery is beautiful down here, because it is. The dunes and hills at Cabo Falso were gorgeous in the golden twilight. We motored around Cabo San Lucas proper, groped our way into the anchorage in the dark, and set the hook about 200 yds. from the beach and a mile from the marina.


Cabo San Lucas is a beautiful sight, and site, geographically, with a ridge of weathered rocks disappearing south into the ocean. The people are very friendly, too. It is, however, quite developed. There are condos everywhere, a Planet Hollywood, Hard Rock Cafe, Pizza Hut, Dairy Queen, KFC, etc., as well as local "attractions" like Squid Roe. It's not bad, necessariy, but we preferred to get out to the edges of town to the local tacquerias and tiendas. By the end of a week of R&R and sightseeing, we were ready to move on.

We left CSL around 11, with radio predictions of no winter storm winds in the Sea of Cortez. We motored back out to Cabo Falso, just to see the Cape in the daylight, then turned and sailed back past CSL and on into the Sea. By the wee hours of the morning, the wind had died, and we motored until the following afternoon. Again, this area is beautiful. From Bahia de los Muertos to La Paz in particular, every mile brings another view of another beautiful beach overlooked by another beautiful hill where a little house would make a wonderful quiet spot to retire or retreat.

The weather was superb. This was the first overnight during which the night watch wore nothing more than shorts and t-shirts. Sandals optional. It was a bit hot in the daytime, but the awnings did their job well, and we were comfortable in the shade.

As we sailed down the last run toward La Paz, we saw 3' rays leaping and somersaulting just a hundred feet away.


So, now we're in La Paz. Our first impression, formed after we dropped the hook around sunset, was "this place looks real." No high-rise condos, no mega-resorts, just the normal lights and traffic of the shops and restaurants of a city. Cool.

Part of visiting a city now is the Treasure Hunt: trying to find all the government offices to check in, or trying to find a store that sells something specific that we're looking for. It's all (almost all) here; we just have to find it. That involves a few questions, and a lot of walking, which is a great way to see a city and its people up close.


We plan to leave here in a few days, then visit Caleta Partida, a lovely nearby anchorage between two islands, then cross over to the mainland. We hope to get to the little town of Chacala near Puerto Vallarta in time to help an Illinois branch of Habitat for Humanity build some houses there. Some of the other cruisers we've met will be there, so it should be fun.


Our next stop with any hope of sending or receiving email will be either Puerto Vallarta or Mazatlan. So far we seem to be right on the edge of the introduction of cybercafes; the one from which I'm sending this opened two days ago.


Best wishes.


Take care,


Rick



point left Back to peaceful La Paz.