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Corona Virus Warning.
For those of you self isolating, you may find scenes of lots of people partying disturbing and they may stir up distant memories. 😉

So once Jim had left for Canada, and I had recovered from my illness it was carnival time. The malecon which runs for several miles along the waterfront here in La Paz was filled with music stages and vendors selling all kinds of stuff, but mostly sweet things like Churros (Doughnuts). There was a funfair and amusement arcade type attractions. There was also a big parade of floats on a few of the nights. The carnival lasted a week and went well into the night starting around 5pm most nights.

The sound stages, as they are called these days, had a very wide mix of bands and performers, from school kids dancing to a very dodgy rap version of ‘My Macarena’ to traditional mexican and Mariachi bands.
I put together a 3 minute compilation of the acts I saw as I strolled the malecon. I know Kathy will be gutted to have missed the exciting brass band that starts about 1:40 in.

The Parade was very colourful and was based on ‘The Feast of the Gods’. Again I made a 5 minute video compilation as I walked along the malecon.

I spent a few weeks in la Paz after Jim left working on the boat while waiting for Tim & Asta to arrive. This was my first time alone here and I took the opportunity to explore on my bicylce a bit. There are some lovely spots here, and quite a few interesting old and new buildings.

I learnt a few more Spanish words relating to fish and headed on down to the beach to see if I could buy fish from the local fishermen. This turned out to be easier than I thought and I ended up with a kilo of Cabrella, filleted, for about £4, it tasted great, I have now also learnt to say, ‘do you have any other fish’

Murals
I posted a short vid to the baba sister midnight facebook page of the murals.
Below are some pictures I took of La Paz’s many murals. I was lucky to be invited to join Colin and family from SV Pristine on a guided tour of the murals. The back stories are fascinating, the mural below depicts the story of how the local fishermen were persuaded to stop fishing for a few years to allow an endangered species to restock. It was an amazing success and this man had a lot to do with persuading the local fishermen to sit on their hands for so long.

The statue below is meant to be Jacques Cousteau, a famous diver that has recently had an island renamed after him.

The Mural above depicts many aspects of the changing life here, but appeals to me as I have just finished my PADI scuba diving course. I was at the bottom of the ocean! (Well 60ft down) taking off my breathing gear, practising emergency ascents and lots of other terrifying feats.

I did a 3 day course, which followed tests on my theory I had been studying for the past few weeks. The first day was in a swimming pool, so nice and easy. The second day we dived off the Isla Islote rock that has a sea lion colony and were surrounded by big colourful tropical fish and sea lions nibbling on our fins (Flippers to the uninitiated).
It was great, however I couldn’t really enjoy the view as I was trying to remember all the important things I had to do if I didn’t want to die, like, keep breathing, keep checking how much air you have left, don’t ascend to quickly, manage your trim, check what the dive computer on my wrist is telling me, etc etc.
On the final day we dived on a shipwreck. I had always thought shipwreck had to be very old and possibly have gold and ming vases on them, but it seems ships keep sinking even in these modern times. This ship was the MV Salvatierra, a big RORO ferry, with quite a few trucks on board and went down in 1976. There’s more on the wreck here. It was odd seeing trucks laying on their side 60ft down.

I also used my time alone to get my teeth spruced up a bit. I had heard good things about Mexican dentists, and I needed a clean, so when the local yacht club announced that they had a discount with the local dentist, where you got a full checkup and clean for about £12, I was in. The view from the chair was brilliant, as you can see below. Even the waiting room had a great arty book on Frida Kahlo, a mexican artist.

Tim and Asta arrive

I hired a car and drove down to San Jose del Cabo international airport to pick them up. This time the drive was a lot easier.
Their plane direct from Gatwick arrived and we drove back to the boat. It was great seeing them and I wondered what kind of trip we might have when we set off, Tim was staying for 4 weeks but Asta was leaving after two. Both needed to be close to San Jose del Cabo international airport to get home. But first they had to get over the jet lag and have a look around La Paz. After they had dropped off their bags we headed to a local beach restaurant called Estrella Mar, where there was a teenage girls birthday party happening, so we got free entertainment from the band. See if you can spot my mate Peter earning a bit on the side 😉 (Sorry Peter).

The next day we walked around town, did a supermarket shop and dined in bandidos, a cool place where they cook the steaks on a hotplate inside an engine compartment of a jeep. I took Jim there and he was impressed, I think Tim & Asta were too.

The next day was Saturday so we visited the organic/craft market and bought some trinkets

On Sunday we untied our lines in the Marina and headed north. We didnt go far on the first day and dropped the anchor in Candelera bay on Santo Espiritu. The next day we hopped around the corner to Partida bay, then continued up the sea to reach our destination of Isla San Francisco. From there we headed south, stopping for a bit at Isla Islote where T&A jumped off the boat and swam over to join the sea lions, while I slowly drifted around waiting for their return. We continued south and had a night at the largest bay in the area on the SE end of Espiritu.
From Espiritu we headed south to Los Muertos, then Los Frailes. We spent 2 nights at Los Frailes as we wanted to explore and visit the reef at Pulmo, which was just around the corner. On the first day we bought some Trigger fish on the beach from the local fishermen, they all seemed very friendly, yet on the next day I watched horrified as they cut the fins off a line of hammerhead sharks that lay dead on the beach. I think these go to make shark fin soup. I had heard the rest of the shark is discarded, but these bodies had been gutted and were later thrown onto the back of a pickup. I believe Mexico is one of the few places that still allows the catching of hammerhead sharks. I was quite shocked to see it for real. At first I was angry with the fishermen, but had to remind myself, these are very poor people, and this puts food on the table for their family, pays for medicine etc and it is legal. Hopefully the law will change soon.

We hitched a ride into Pulmo the next day, but the weather was rough and it didn’t look like diving on the reef would be possible. However we had a nice lunch there, Tim bought some wine and basic provisions.

Pulmo had a lovely property development of small low lying houses within a small grid system. I don’t think they have mains power in the village.

We spent the afternoon diving on the rocks in Los Frailes, which were more sheltered than Pulmo and saw some great fish.
From Los Frailes it was a short 6 hour hop to the Marina at San Jose del Cabo, where Asta would leave us for her flight home. On this last leg we had many whales visit us, or were making a bit of a show nearby. It was wonderful, and I will put up some of our video from that on my next post.

Boat canvas work.
I mentioned earlier that I had some boat jobs done. You can see the new spray dodger and mainsail lazy-jack cover. I had this work done in La Paz by Hector the canvas man. His work is very good.

Hector gave me a great price to redo all of the cushions in the boat, all I had to do was chose the material. I found a great fabric in a local store, however Kathy thought it was too black, she’s probably right, but I realised we werent going to be able to agree on a fabric over the internet, so that job will have to wait until Kathy gets out here.

Another job I tackled was fixing the Starboard water tank level gauge. It was not reading reliably, and we need this to be accurate. As I suspected the floating part of the gauge no longer floated , so a bit of foam was attached to it and it seems to work now. I need to buy a new gauge when I get a chance.

Coronavirus
By the time we had reached Cabo, the CoronaVirus issue had become a big deal for us. Tim’s flight home in 2 weeks time had been cancelled, and Asta’s connecting flight from London to Shannon, in Ireland had been cancelled. The world was shutting down around us and Tim was concerned.
Tim managed to get a flight with Air Canada that got him to Dublin via Toronto, and left yesterday (Wed 25th March), Asta got a new flight from Gatwick to Dublin and she left today, As I write this she is just passing over the Atlantic near Newfoundland. They may need to self isolate when they get home. My flight has not been cancelled yet, as it’s not until May, but I expect it will be cancelled at some point soon. My Visa expires the same day as my flight.
I could have found a way home this week, and still may, but I need to find a safe place to leave Sister Midnight. If I can’t get back for several months, we will be into the hurricane season, which starts in May and runs to November. I will need to spend time securing the boat for this eventuality.
Most of the Americans and Canadians here have left their boats and returned home while they can. The border to America is shut now, and in fact Mexicans are protesting that Americans are being allowed south. In this area it seems the virus was brought here by Americans.

I have been to the supermarket a few times now and as you can see from above, there’s plenty on offer. I’m not sure how long this will last. There’s plenty of toilet paper, but no hand sanitizer gel, or latex gloves.
I have enough food on the boat for a few weeks, but I do worry for the Mexicans here, many of them won’t be able to cope with a serious economic downturn. The area I’m in is totally tourist based, and they have all left now.
Many families just don’t have the money to stockpile anything, so many will die from malnutrition.

I plan to leave this expensive marina in a few days time, weather permitting and make an overnight passage to Mazatlan on the mainland, where there is a good cheap marina in an interesting old town. I may meet up with Mike from SV Ikigai there, and I might even see Brenda and Clay on SV Sansucchi, from there I will sail back to La Paz, or possibly Puerto Escondido and look for a safe place for my boat during the hurricane season.

Next week I will post some shots of the whales we encountered on our way south to take Tim & Asta to the airport.

Paul Collister

The trip back from Puerto Escondido to La Paz was a bit of a sleigh ride. For the first few days we had 15-20 knot winds from behind. The trip was fast. We stopped at El Gato, then Isla San Francisco, and finally at Caleta Lobos on the peninsula, just a few hours out of La Paz.
We fuelled up before setting off, but the engine barely ran at all and we arrived with a near full tank. We had used 100 litres on the trip north. So quite a saving with diesel at £1/litre

We motored into La Paz town around low water, especially low because of the spring tides, and we were shocked to see just how far out the sand banks came to the channel. People had walked out into the middle of what is normally a fast flowing estuary. It looked like fun, and reminded me of the fun times we had with the kids when you used to sail out to the West Hoyle sand bank and ground the boat as the tide went out and picnic on the pristine sand there.

It was good to tie up in Marina La Paz again, just a couple of slips up from where we first arrived back in December. We soon noticed a Sea Shepherd ship tied up at the end of the marina. They have been checking on water quality in the bay here, looking at plastic and pollution levels with the local authorities.
For those who don’t know, the Sea Shepherd organisation are doing great work in trying to protect the Vaquita porpoise in the sea of cortez. The were thought to be extinct here, but a few have been spotted. In an article from their website here they state..
“Sea Shepherd removes illegal gillnets from vaquita habitat to protect the mammal from getting ensnared in nets set to catch another endangered species, the totoaba fish.
Totoaba is targeted for its lucrative “buche” or swim bladder, which is trafficked and sold in black markets in Asia. The bladders are consumed in a soup believed to have beneficial health properties, despite lack of scientific evidence confirming such claims. “

La Paz was more sleepy than when I left, but also a bit warmer which was nice, especially as the UK was being battered by storms and flooding.

On Monday I hired a car and drove Jim to the airport at San Jose del Cabo. I must have caught a bit of food poisoning or a touch of corona virus. We did eat out the night before with Mike and his Californian girlfriend Shauna, but everyone else seemed ok, so I don’t know. either way it was a most uncomfortable ride to the airport, with lots of stops along the way. I drove back along the coast to Cabo San Lucas, and saw the non stop development of the coast with the construction of huge luxury hotels/spa resorts. There was barely an undeveloped spot along the whole stretch of 20km.

Back at the boat the next day I rested and started on my long list of tasks. The first was to replace my stolen visa. We replaced Kathy’s at the airport, it took 15 minutes at the immigration office. and was no big deal. La Paz Immigration was to be another story. It took 5 visits over two weeks, including an interview, a very rude bank clerk, and a few new friends from amongst the crowd seated in the waiting room at Immigration, where we all clung to our numbered ticket, waiting to be called. I spent so much time there the ladies behind the counter new me quite well and would just call out my name “Mr Paul” when I was needed. I now have my Visa, it still expires in May, I was going to ask them to add a couple of weeks to my permitted 180 days, as I had spent nearly two weeks with them!

On the spur of the moment I decided to replace the plywood panel that supports my instruments in the cockpit. It had started to delaminate and the last time I took it apart a large piece ripped off the back. Also it was looking tired and the speaker /thermometer and cigar lighter didnt work, so I figured I could remove them.

The plywood wasn’t the best quality, but it’s an improvement on what I had.
Next I had to find out why the lever on the head wasn’t staying in place. That turned out to be a spring not adjusted properly, so was an easy fix, however when I was doing that I noticed one of the head seacock pipe connections was badly corroded.

Having repaired the hose with 2 new clamps, next on the list was to book my PADI dive course, I popped down to Mike’s boat and we worked out a plan for fixing his two bilge pump problems, and while I was there at his marina I booked onto a PADI Open Water dive course, to start in ten days time. I have a massive theory book to read and understand before my first lesson, I’m a little excited about this, as it’s not that long ago in my mind that I was scared of going underwater and couldn’t even swim when I started the cruising life.

I keep seeing places here that I would love to own, This hotel california looks so classic mexican.

Today the La Paz carnival begins and runs until Monday. It’s mostly performances with lots of stages and stalls along 1 mile of the Malecon. Each day there is a big float parade. It reminds me of the festivals we visited in Barcelona, like the Festa Major de Gracia.

I will know more later as I’m now off to check out the fish tacos that are bound to be on offer, along with a couple of churros (basically long doughnuts) I hope.

I have just started making my own juices, it’s a healthy way to stay hydrated, tastes great and also is very cheap. I had no idea how easy it is to make real lemonade.

I’m going to be in La Paz docked for the next 4 weeks until Tim and Asta arrive, when we will hit the sea again. Hopefully I can finish all my boat jobs by then.

Paul Collister
20/02/2020

PS Apologies for the multiple notifications that were sent out about this blog post, I’m still struggling with the postie system.

Having seen Kathy off on her flight back home in Mexico city, I headed back to La Paz where Jim would be arriving from Canada later that day.

Before going through security, I marched off to the other side of the airport to see if I could see the runway and Kathy’s flight taking off. It turned out the other end of the airport was just as bad for a view, so I headed for security to get airside. At that point I realised I no longer had my suitcase with me, I quick marched back to my starting point and found my bag just sitting there, all on its own. Fortunately nobody had bothered to pay it any attention, so off I went to get ready to board. I had a few hours to kill, so out came my macBook and I started working on the software for my Raspberry Pi computer.

The Raspberry Pi computer is a tiny little thing, that packs a mighty punch. I picked one up a few weeks ago so I could play with automating some technology on the boat. First off I wanted a way to record the wind average and wind gusts constantly so I could work out if the gales were getting worse of perhaps receding by looking at graphs. It’s imprecise, but a bit of fun. Eventually I expect it to be sailing the boat around the world, automatically booking itself into marinas, and sending emails to me at the old folks home, telling me what a great time it’s having!.

While I waited to board, a couple of old folks turned up being pushed in wheelchairs, with matching gold and silver bags, each of which contained a chihuahua .

On arrival at La Paz airport, I found all of the Uber’s to be booked out, so rather than pay 3 times the Uber price for a normal taxi, I decided to wait, and catch up on my emails for a while, a few minutes later a young man approached me and asked for help, normally I would be wary of strangers asking for help at the airport, but there’s something about Mexico, and the people here that puts me at ease. This chappie had flown in with me on the flight from Mexico and wanted to know if I knew my way around La Paz, he had heard bad things and was nervous, he was told there were no hostels to stay in. I offered to let him ride into town with me in my Uber for free and I would try to help him find accommodation. As it turned out, Patricia in the marina pointed him to a hostel just around the corner. My new friend, Arturo, had travelled to La Paz to experience the sea of Cortez, he hoped to get work in a dive school, and explore the sea. He had just finished his exams for a Linguistics degree and his English was very good. We agreed to stay in touch, he might be able to help me learn Spanish and I could help him improve his English. 

A few hours later Jim arrived by coach from Los Cabos, he dumped his bags on board and we headed downtown for a meal. The next day Jim had a look around town, and I chased up the various people who were doing jobs for me. The outboard engine repair man hadn’t done the Suzuki service yet, but promised it for the next day. The canvas man was still not responding to my emails. Eventually a date was fixed for him to come and measure up.  Jim and I took the boat out and we had a pleasant day motoring up the bay to the fuel dock about 5 mies away, and then back.

At the fuel dock we were very impressed by a massive motor Yacht/gin palace, I didn’t see it but apparently there was a high speed motor launch accompanying it, used by the special services. Later we heard that the Motor Yacht was owned by Steven Spielberg and the guests on board were Barrack and Michelle Obama. We heard they had been out paddle boarding and kayaking in the coves and bays around La Paz and the islands. I expect they had been following this blog and wanted to check the place out for themselves. 

A few days later and the dodger had been measured up and templates made for its replacement, this will take a few weeks, but when I return to La Paz with Jim they should be able to get stuck into finishing it.

Jim and I visited a funky diner close to the marina where they cook burgers on a hotplate fitted into the front of a big truck, a bit gimmicky, but the whole place had a nice feel about it.

At last my passport arrived, the main hurdle keeping me in La Paz,

I was expecting the European reference to be removed, even though we are still full members of the EU, but still sad to see it go. By the time I publish this we will have left the EU, a stupid act that I think will harm the ordinary people of the UK massively. Hopefully Britain can realise its new position in the world order and adjust accordingly. I feel confident that it will rejoin Europe in a decade or so and play a more involved role than before.

The outboard arrived back serviced and performing like a new machine, and with my passport stowed away safely, Jim and I provisioned for a few weeks at sea and headed of to the islands of Espiritu Santo. We had a pleasant motor up to our first stop at Ensenada de La Gallena (Gallena Cove). There was a bit of wind and swell, but we had a pleasant night there and the next day we pushed on to Playa Candelero. Here we spent two nights snorkelling and swimming with the many colourful fish. We saw many Rays jumping out of the water and it was so clear we could see the bottom in 30ft of water. We watched turtles swimming around as we dinghies ashore.

The next stop was on the island to the north of Espiritu, called Isla Partida. First we visited Partida Cove. I had a great Kayak ride along the shoreline. There was a small seasonal fishing village here, just a few shacks, locked up. And a little stream that connected the main cove on the west of the island with a cove on the East.

The next day we moved up a few coves to Ensenada Grande, another idyllic setting, white sand beaches, clear water, and a trail we took to the eastern side of Partida Island. 

From Partida we continued north west to Isla San Francisco and a bay known locally as the hook, looking at the picture you can see why.

This was a stunning location, ashore we explored a dried out lagoon, and walked to the eastern shore of the island. Back on the boat we were a bit put out when the large motor yacht next to us started blasting out bland Mexican pop music. The young couples on board were being served by white suited waiters on the fly bridge dining area! Not long after that we saw a huge shoal of fish flying out of the water in panic, followed by a huge whales mouth. The whale chased the fish into the anchorage. 5 minutes later, a huge spurt of water, a snorting sound and the whale was just 20 metres off the side of our boat heading our way. Five minutes later it passed us and resurfaced next to the motor launch. The women on board all screamed in unison, they seemed quite scared. But in true whale watching style, their staff prepared the tender and the all jumped in and took chase after the whale. The whale being no idiot, dived and we didn’t see him/her again.

The next day, Jim decided to climb to the top of the hill overlooking the anchorage. You can see him (just) in the picture.

From Isla San Francisco we continued north to San Evaristo, via the salt mines at Salinas. A processing facility there had been abandoned with bulldozers and trucks left to decay in the elements. 

A short hop from the salt mines over to Evaristo took a couple of hours and we anchored with 8 other boats in the big bay there. It had been a while since we had internet, so our weather forecasts were now unreliable and we needed to get a better prediction. 

San Evaristo is a lovely bay, the people here are very friendly, there is a small tienda (shop) and a little restaurant. Maybe 30 houses in the village, a small school, a desalination plant and quite a few fishing pangas. We were able to buy freshly caught fish on the beach from fishermen as they arrived with their catch. 

That night in Evaristo we had a very strong westerly wind arrive, this might have been a chabasco, which is a wind caused by a difference in pressure between the big pacific and the narrow Sea of Cortez. The winds rush across the peninsula, particularly in the La Paz region where the land is relatively flat. We had mountains here and thought we would be safe, but perhaps not. The wind blew hard and I couldn’t go to bed, as I was worried we might start dragging our anchor. Around 1AM it became clear we were dragging, and soon we were in deeper water and moving fast. Fortunately we were being blown offshore and there were no boats in our way. I started the engine and that woke Jim. I brought the anchor in enough to remove the snubber, a long rope used as a shock absorber on the chain, and then let out an extra 20 metres of chain hoping we might set. However we continued to drag at about 2 knots in the strong wind. I had to recover the anchor now and motor back into shallow waters and reset it. Jim did a great job of keeping the boat pointing into the wind while I brought in ten meters at a time, after each 10 metres I ran below and flaked the chain. Eventually the anchor came into sight, however it didn’t look like an anchor, more like a monster from below. We had collected a stack of weed, probably as we dragged. There was a mound of grass/kelp, maybe 1 metre in diameter and a metre high. I had to get my hull scraper tool out to slice away at it. This took a while, fortunately while I did this, Jim skilfully manoeuvred us back in-between the other anchored yachts and held us there ready for another attempt at anchoring. This was no easy feat for Jim as it was pitch black, and the wind was howling though the bay. I cleared the weed, dropped the anchor and we quickly set in the sand below us. All in all we spent an hour getting the hook up and then back down. Jim went to bed, and I stayed up until 5:30 waiting for the wind to subside a bit. The anchor held well. I still don’t know why it dragged, but suffice it to say ‘nothing is guaranteed’ 

We left Evaristo for El Gato, named for the Cougars that used to occupy the area. So far every anchorage we had visited had to protect us from northerly winds, El Gato could do this, and as the wind was moving to the west/south west, it also offer great protection for that possibility as well.

El Gato has great geology, the rock strata is real school textbook stuff. Sadly it was very overcast during our stay so we didn’t even go ashore to check it out. We have made a note to explore on our way south.

From El Gato it was a short hop to Agua Verde, considered to be one of the most beautiful bays on the coast, and it didn’t disappoint.

We popped ashore and did some basic provisioning at the local shop, really not more than a shed in someone’s garden, but good for eggs, no doubt from the hens we saw wandering around the property. 

While we had a drink and fish tacos at the restaurant, we met Robert, an American from Las Vegas. Robert was typical of the people we meet, by being very untypical of most people. He had been working in the construction industry, house building, for most of his working life and had progressed up the ranks really well. So well he had been promoted to a lofty position which entailed him managing managers, working long hours and not doing very enjoyable work. His housebuilding was mostly about paperwork and stress. He had a heart attack and a quadruple bypass operation. This made him think about his priorities and he quit work and bought a boat. He has sailed down to Mexico and is on his way to New Zealand/Austrailia via the South Pacific on his own. We were discussing the best places for people watching and he mentioned how interesting it was seeing weirdos at Venice Beach while he was remodelling Charlie Chaplin’s house. Later he mentioned how much fun he had when he was gold prospecting in North California. As you do! Robert is such a nice Guy, I’m hoping we will meet up with him in the Pacific again.

Aqua Verde, like many of the places we have visited in Mexico have impressed us with their dedication to the environment and wildlife. The restaurant was advertising the dangers of plastic to animals and fish. It’s great that these communities, that have so little in material things are so committed to the cause. 

A small cruise ship arrived while we were there, the Safari Endeavour, it has about 80 passengers and seems to be trying to be eco friendly, if this is possible remains to be seen.

The local press tout this as a great opportunity for the economy, as there hasn’t been a cruise ship in the sea of Cortez for a long time, citing zillions of pesos for the local economies. Let’s hope they can keep it small and eco focussed.

We left Agua Verde for the short hop up to Puerto Escondido.

We were headed to Loreto, to visit the Missions there. Basically the missions were the churches the original Spanish invaders built throughout the country as bases for the conquest. I think there’s more to it than that, but I haven’t really looked into it yet. However they only built the church, not a decent harbour or Marina, so yachts had to wait another 250 years for one to be built 20 miles south at Puerto Escondido.

Here the hills create an almost landlocked lagoon. It’s considered to be one of the best hurricane holes on the coast here, and I may well consider moving the boat here later in the year when the hurricanes start. The marina was to pricey for me to stay in, so we picked up a quite pricey mooring ball for a couple of nights. We have full use of the marina facilities, including the laundry, showers and swimming pool/jacuzzi. We decided to hire a car and head into Loreto rather than try to anchor off the coast in a very exposed area. Just after we arrived we bumped into Robert, we had seen him on the AIS heading up here from Agua Verde so offered him a lift into town in our hire car, which he gratefully accepted. He had blown out the clew on his headsail and ripped his spinnaker on the way up here. His gas(LPG) regulator had also failed, so wanted to look for a replacement.

Loreto is a lovely town, full of friendly helpful folk. We had breakfast after a walk around the mission church. We did some shopping for presents and souvenirs.

Later we headed up into the mountains of the Sierra Gigante to find the other mission church.

When we arrived we were bowled over by the location and the church itself. Built around 1750 and still the original building, it looked fantastic, surrounded by orange and lemon trees, we sat in a cafe and had freshly squeezed orange juice, no doubt made from some of the oranges lying around the trees there. 

A short ride back into Loreto and we provisioned up at the supermarket with enough food to get us back to La Paz. We leave tomorrow (Wed 5th Feb) for a fast ride back so Jim can catch his flight home. Strong Northerly winds are forecast so we should have a great sleigh ride back.

By the time we had loaded up the dinghy at the Marina for the 10 minute ride back to the mooring field, the wind had reached 20-25 knots and our little dinghy was no match for the waves, we bounced up, off and into the waves. We both got soaked, but at least the water wasn’t that cold. 

Paul Collister

B.C.S stands for Baja California South. We are now in La Paz, I say we, Kathy is actually in Milan as I write, visiting family, and Jim, who looked after my boat in Sointula B.C. (British Columbia) is with me for a few weeks.

Arriving at La Paz, we were greeted by a fleet of oil/petroleum tankers berthed outside the harbour. La Paz has a small oil processing facility, I’m not sure if it’s a refinery or just a storage depot, but is a bit of an ugly affair right at the narrow channel entrance to the harbour. The approach into the town follows a narrow dredged channel that weaves its way behind a large peninsula called Magote, and then either side of a bank that splits the channel into two.

Careful navigation is required here as the channel is narrow and there are lots of pangas whizzing around. We were greeted by a shoal of dolphins frollicking around our boat on the way in. The previous night we had rested in a little cove just a mile or so north of the channel with Clay and Brenda on their boat so that we could arrive early the next day and find a place to anchor.
As it turned out we could get a berth in the marina ‘Marina de La Paz’ and so we booked in for a month, time for a rest.

We had decorated the boat for christmas, which was the next day. A trip to the supermarket and we had everything needed.

The next morning we woke and exchanged presents. This year the presents were limited and not the least bit surprising, as we had discussed what to get each other as we pushed the trolley around the supermarket the day before. We couldn’t be bothered with all the faffing around of trying to secretly check out each others presents, so I threw a couple of bars of chocolate in the trolley for Kathy, and I helped her pick a tin of my favourite spanish tuna for me. Aren’t we romantic in our old age.
Christmas day was great, we chilled, the lead up to the day had been completely stress free, Kathy did a bit of cooking and later on we headed over to Clay and Brenda’s boat for a vegan feast.

While I was shopping I was a little shocked to see the faces of ‘Missing Children’ on the milk cartons. A stark reminder that so many people just disappear every year in Mexico.

La Paz is a lovely town, a little touristy, but that’s mostly confined to the Malecon (Promenade), stepping back is a simpler way of life, with lots of small shops and services. It’s quite laid back here

Sadly a few days after Christmas a boat reversing into the berth next to us misjudged their turn and whacked us across the stern. There was no damage to the hull, but they smashed the rudder on the windvane steering, dinging it and twisting the sacrificial connecting tube. The captain, a lady, was very apologetic, and paid me for the cost of a new tube. She blamed the incident on the fact she was from Alberta, a landlocked province in Canada, and so didn’t have the sea in her blood!

It wasn’t many days after Christmas that Kathy had to head home. We had arranged it so that we would fly to Mexico City on the Wednesday, she would be interviewed at the British embassy for her passport on Thursday, Fri-Sun would be for exploring the city, and on Monday she would fly home and I would fly back to La Paz to meet Jim who was flying in from Canada. What could possibly go wrong. I wasn’t sure if I would be allowed to fly on internal flights with just my driving license as ID. In fact not much did go wrong. I was quite relaxed until the embassy official pointed out that even with the new passport, and a letter from the police, Kathy would not be able to board without her visa exit slip, which was lost with the passport. We would have to visit immigration and buy a new visa for 600 peso, just to allow her to get through the gate. A further search on google revealed horror stories of long queues at immigration causing people to miss their flights. Low stress levels had started to rise!

On our first night at the hotel in the city, we watched a film on my macbook about the life of the artist Frida Kahlo, and her relationship with the more famous, at least at the time, mural artist, Diego Rivera. This was a great film, and it gave us a focus for our exploration of the art in the city. Of course once you know about something in a bit of detail, you can see it all around you much easier. We visited the old presidential palace and saw great murals Diego painted, we visited his house where he lived with Frida for a while, and Kathy bought A Frida Kahlo Day of the dead figurine/sculpture. I really enjoyed that part of our trip.

Of course, no city trip would be complete if I haven’t dragged Kathy through downtown Fruit and Veg markets, I love seeing the brightly stacked goods, seeming to go on forever, the slightly dodgy looking racks of dead animals never seem quite as attractive, but are a sight in themselves.

On Sunday, our last full day in town we headed south of the city to a district called ‘San Angel’. On the way we took in the main central drag which is closed to traffic on Sundays and becomes a huge malecon where the locals come out and ride bikes/skateboards/roller blades etc. The atmosphere was lovely

San Angel has a little area which has been designated a ‘world heritage site’ because of its outstanding beauty. This has to be one of my favorite places ever. It was charming. so peaceful, relaxed, and the air here was much clearer than in the rather polluted centre of town.

We walked around the two town squares, small stalls sold lovey genuine local craft products and paintings. Kathy bought quite a few gifts to bring home. Several houses had been opened to the public and it made me long to own a property here so I could furnish it with these amazing objects.

A little further down the road we stumbled on a concert being performed in a gorgeous courtyard of an old house, now museum.

Further on we visited an old monastery. Inside was a temporary exhibition local school children had been involved with. There were some great day of the dead creations. I love the way they celebrate the dead here. They seemed to have removed the fear from it and made the whole thing more fun.

An example was found in the crypt below the monastery, we watched a young child exploring all the mummified remains of what I assume were once important people, without any fear, just curiosity.

After San angel, we had a final meal in the city centre and in the morning headed off to the Airport early to get in the queue at Immigration. As it turned out, there was no queue, and the immigration official was ever so nice in helping us get the new visa quickly. So far every official I have met in Mexico has been extremely pleasant and helpful. The people of La Paz are ever so nice, I think I might be here a while.

Kathy got her flight without issue, I flew back to the boat and met Jim. We headed off to the Islands to explore. More in the next posting.

Our first passage after leaving Ensenada was an overnight one, on Friday 22^nd November to San Quintin Bay. I didn’t know it at the time but we were en route to see a very different aspect of Mexico than we’d seen in Ensenada. The overnighter was relatively smooth, and the night sky had an abundance of stars; we even saw some shooting ones, or as Paul will have them called ‘meteorites’.  The moon didn’t rise until 2am so by the time of my watch two hours later it was high in the sky and although only a crescent, it shone a comforting glowing path on the surface of the water.

After providing us with a good deal of welcome warmth ever since we left the Tropics back in 2018, our heating system chose this passage to break, and this time even Paul’s best efforts couldn’t fix it. We had been using it less and less but it’s generally been after sunset that we need it. Outside temperatures are consistently mild, yet paradoxically it’s inside the cabin that it feels chillier. Paul explained this is due to the sea water being colder, thus causing the interior to cool while the cockpit still felt pleasantly mild after being warmed by the sun all day. Having the oven on for an hour or so emitted sufficient heat to keep the chill off and we had blankets if it was particularly chilly. Down below, checking the course and the AIS that night, I was amused to see one of Paul’s annotations on the open CPN chart we use to navigate; a circle had been drawn around a particular spot, along with the words ‘bigly bad rock’. I’m sure Mr Trump would have approved.

We spotted whales, dolphins, pelicans, sea lions and a variety of sea birds before we reached San Quintin Bay mid-morning on Saturday. There were only a couple of other boats anchored in the bay and it was such a blissfully peaceful spot to rest in we decided to stay until Monday. A full day at anchor in a calm bay provided an ideal opportunity for Paul to go up the mast to fix a problematic halyard.

Monday morning saw us weighing anchor at 9am on a cloudy but mild morning for another overnighter to Cedros Island. Ever hopeful of catching a fish, Paul put a line out over the stern and we were astonished (the fish included no doubt), when he hooked one – a big one at that. Unfortunately for Paul, though not for me and the fish, it got away. The afternoon then became all about catching one that wouldn’t escape. An alarming-looking hook was brought into play from one of the lockers in the cabin. Shortly afterwards I had to go and locate some plasters and a bandage. It seems sharpening a hook can be hazardous to fingers.

The second one he caught also lived to see another day, due (apparently) to the line not being strong enough to hold the fish’s weight. The third one stayed caught, and I saw more of that than I wished to. It was quite a gruesome event and even Paul felt sorry for it, realising that he needed to refine his technique in order to make it a quicker end for the poor fish. There were other more accidental casualties on this passage. A couple of squid met their end on the bow after landing there sometime during the night, and I spotted the sad sight of a dead bird under the dinghy as we sat enjoying the sun at the bow that afternoon.  

We enjoyed sailing with no engine for almost 24 hours on this passage. It wasn’t until early Tuesday morning that the wind dropped and we had to switch it on again. The peace through the night had been great. I don’t know why but it makes overnight passages easier without the thrum of the engine (as long as the autohelm is working that is). Anchoring at Cedros Island took three attempts – the holding wasn’t good and the anchor kept dragging but Paul declared it ‘good enough’ after the third attempt.

It was quite late by the time we dinghied ashore. My journal records that it was one of the bleakest, most depressing places I have ever seen. We tied up in the harbour an hour or so before sunset and were welcomed by two boys of about 10. I’d them spotted throwing stones into the water as we approached. They took a great interest in our arrival due to the fact that the wall had dangerously sharp shells and barnacles so it took a while to secure it to avoid the possibility of them puncturing the dinghy. Paul used a few phrases of Spanish to greet them but we didn’t understand their responses, much to their disappointment.

The pictures show the sights that we saw when we ventured into the town. It reminded me of scenes from war-torn countries. There was rubble, broken glass and abandoned and derelict buildings with lots of rubbish and debris before we even got to the main street. The people we met along the way were unfailingly welcoming – all of them greeted us with a smile and a ‘buenos tardes’. The houses we passed were small and basic and several had Christmas trees in the windows. The shops were compact, their facades brightly coloured with the distinctive colours Mexico uses in art and architecture and one of them was so festively and stylishly decorated that it wouldn’t have looked out of place in London’s Oxford Street. The side streets leading off from the main street looked intriguing with their higgledy piggledy houses and dirt track road but it was getting too dark to explore. Also, we appeared to be a sight of interest to the town’s residents and it would have been rude to amble down the roads taking pictures of their houses. We didn’t need to buy anything but went into what seemed to be the main grocery store and a lady showed Paul where the ziploc bags were located. When he went to pay, however, the note he proffered was apologetically refused because it was too crumpled. This has happened a few times in Mexico; they will not accept notes that are dirty, torn or creased.  

As the sun began to go down, the street took on an ethereal quality. The sky was multi-coloured, the pink and orange hues produced an atmospheric glow on the skyline, especially around the cross on the hill above the town. For the first time I felt like I was actually in Mexico.  

After a very rolly night from the strong ocean swell that drove Paul to sleep in the bunk where the lee cloth prevented him from rolling around, we weighed anchor from our Cedros anchorage at 9am on a cloudy, damp and chilly morning. We hadn’t gone far when we ran over a fishing line. Two brightly-coloured buoys were attached to the boat, dragging behind us and I was worried the line had tangled around the prop. Thankfully it wasn’t long before they drifted off but we were now alert to watch for more. It began to rain heavily just after this which hampered visibility a little but we spotted all the buoys and slowed down accordingly. At one point a fishing boat approached us, the captain concerned enough to point out the location of his fishing marks and in the end I went up to the bow to be sure of spotting them in good time.

We reached Turtle Bay at 3pm but it was too drizzly and dark to go ashore. The forecast had predicted the weather accurately and we woke the following morning to near gale winds. The rocking we’d experienced the previous day was nothing compared to this. It would clearly be too rough to go ashore and we wouldn’t have liked to leave the boat in such strong winds anyway. Paul had to secure the anchor with the snubber (I love that word) and all we could do was sit it out with the rest of the boats in the anchorage. This we did – all day and all night! The wind sounded like that you hear in horror films – whistling and howling as it increased steadily to speeds of 30 or 40 knots. Our position was perilously close to some jagged rocks near the shore which ordinarily wouldn’t have been a problem but in these conditions could have been disastrous if the anchor dragged. I didn’t fancy the hassle of moving somewhere else in such a choppy sea so there was nothing else for it but to do anchor ‘watches’ through the night. We took two hours each from 8pm, staying awake and checking that our position hadn’t moved on the chart. Paul said it was likely that all the other boats in the anchorage were doing the same and it felt like we were ‘all in it together’. The boat was pitching and rocking so fiercely at times that it was hard to believe we weren’t moving along on the water. The heavy rain that pelted down completed the stormy situation but it was warm and cosy in the cabin – not still and peaceful by any means but warm.

Just before dawn on the 29^th November, the wind finally began to abate, the rain stopped and by mid-morning the sun came out and we were able to go ashore. Turtle Bay was slightly better than Cedros Island – slightly. To be fair, these places are not tourist destinations, they are welcome stops on the long journey down the west coast, and Turtle Bay is renowned as the most protected harbour in bad weather, so we were lucky to have been there Naturally, the talk among the other boat owners we met was about their gale experiences the night before and we heard varying reports of recorded wind speeds but one man insisted he’d seen it get up to 50 knots. A local called Pedro greeted us on the pier and we gathered he is the ‘go to’ man for services such as garbage disposal, fuel enquiries and fee-paying for dinghy parking. His palm held out told us he expected a tip for all this information. Later we discovered he is related to the guy who seems to have a monopoly on the fuel for sale. It didn’t go down well that we didn’t require any fuel (Paul had read about the hiked up prices in Turtle Bay).  

There was a small sandy beach at the end of the landing pier, with a popular bar/restaurant above it. Before checking it out we took a quick look at the town. We’d passed derelict and graffiti covered wrecks at the end of the pier but the buildings on the main street were in better shape and as in Cedros, several were getting ready for Christmas. The town’s vehicles were in poor states of repair, however, which given the state of the rocky, bumpy roads was no great surprise. A good number of them of them had no number plates, some were missing doors and most were covered in dust and rust. At the bar, named Kuku, which had a pleasant view over the anchorage we had a beer and a coke hoping to catch up on internet things but I was disappointed there because the wifi wouldn’t work on my phone and there was no mobile coverage.  We caught up on the news on Paul’s phone but having read more about the December election shenanigans we were no better off really.

We had another full day in Turtle Bay and Paul was able to help a fellow sailor in need of advice regarding steering problems on his boat, Ikigai. Later in the bar, we met Mike and his friend Chris and had a beer and swapped travel stories with them. They told us of their plan to explore the Sea of Cortez after the Christmas break, but shortly after leaving Turtle Bay the following day Mike became a solo sailor when Chris decided to return to America. More pics from our day in Turtle Bay below – including some cats I spotted :-).

December the 1^st saw us back at sea for most of the day. We arrived at Asuncion Bay just before sunset after a sunrise departure. We had motored all the way, so made the most of the hot water the engine creates to have showers, and for me a much needed hair wash. Suitably refreshed and cleansed we set off for the shore in the dinghy to explore and to seek some wifi. There was no jetty to tie a dinghy to so it had to be a beach landing – always a stressful thing for me. The surf was strong, I could see huge waves breaking on the shore and I felt the dread building up at the thought of crossing those in the dinghy. Paul tried to get me to count the intervals in between each wave so that we could time our landing and get out without getting wet but nerves meant I couldn’t concentrate enough to do it. As we approached the shallows the waves pushed us roughly nearer the shore and sure enough broke right over the dinghy as I struggled to jump over them to the beach. I didn’t get too wet that time but the thought of the return journey was on my mind the entire time we were ashore. Turns out I was right to be worried.

Our first task was to get fuel from the Pemex garage so we carried our three containers there and once Paul filled them with diesel, we lugged them back to the dinghy. Asuncion proved to be a deserted and quiet town. It was a hot sunny day and we wandered up and down the street looking for the advertised internet café…or any cafe.

The internet cafe was closed until 4pm and there were only a few small shops open. One of these is pictured below, along with pics of the main street. It was 1 30 by then and we had seen pretty much all we wanted, so set off back to the beach for the return journey. We had three heavy containers of fuel in the bow and the waves were just as high. Despite Paul’s best efforts to hasten a smooth departure, a huge wave hit us full on before we had crossed the shallows and it soaked me from head to foot with cold water. It might have been a hot day but I was shivering in seconds, my sodden clothes clinging to me and newly-washed air doused in sea water. To say I was annoyed would be an understatement. At least the phones were safely wrapped in our dry bag so it could have been worse but it took me while (and a stiff drink) to calm down.

From Asuncion we went to a place called Abreojos which means ‘open your eyes’, referring to the treacherous rocks and reefs in the area. Luckily, modern charts allowed us to know exactly where these were in order to avoid them. Our eyes were open to the more welcome sight of porpoises and pelicans during the passage. We also had a sea lion accompany us for a good deal of the way. It was so obviously curious, popping its head up to stare blatantly before diving and leaping as if putting on a show especially for us. Our eyes also needed to be open for the many fishing pots bobbing on the surface so as to be ready to drop the revs and put the gear in neutral when we got close to one.

Abreojos is known for its opportunities to see grey whales who go there to give birth. Visitors can book a tour with a guide to see the whales with their calves and apparently they come close so that you are able to touch them. Unfortunately the weather was against us, even though we were there at the right season to see them. If we stayed to go on the tour it would have meant being stuck there for two or three days. It had been a rocky night, the day was overcast and chilly, and the swell was making it uncomfortable on board. We discussed options with Clay and Brenda and the consensus was to move on, even though it meant a further overnighter, to Magdalena Bay with a stop at Santa Maria Bay on the way.

I watched the sunrise during my watch on Thursday 5^th December and noticed that the scenes we were waking up to were becoming notably more picturesque as we draw further south. The anchorage was calm and peaceful in Santa Maria. Paul had been pleased to catch another fish on the way so he prepared and cooked that for his dinner, using the advice relating to the best way to ‘dispatch’ it. I was more pleased by the fact that we had picked up a phone signal on the way, meaning we were finally able to get online during our night there.

Mag Bay, as it’s popularly known, was a fascinating place – like I imagine a hippie commune might look like. Clay and Brenda came to see us not long after we anchored to tell us about the village (and to reassure me that the surf wasn’t bad for going ashore). It had the appearance of a makeshift summer camp, as the dwellings were so near (or on) the beach. We walked up and down the length of the shore, making me sorry that I hadn’t brought my phone to take pictures. The ramshackle, compact single storey homes defy description – think sheds or camper homes with no wheels. I would have loved to see inside one, they looked so cosy and homely and in such a fabulous setting. There seemed hardly any need for vehicles because you can walk the length of the beach in 30 minutes or so but we saw a fair few of them in the usual state of disrepair. We were amused to see dogs in packs chasing trucks driving along the uneven track near the shore.

We had a drink in the bar, which had an incongruous velvet-covered sofa and a rocking chair outside it. There, we asked for directions to the local grocery store and made our way to the quaintest shop I have ever been in. Outside, it bore no resemblance to a shop at all. There were no signs and the door was firmly closed. It was only by asking two men sitting on steps that we knew it was open. Inside, it was a little like a play shop constructed in a house, with a few items randomly placed on shelves in a side-room and some boxes with fruit and veg in the porch. The people were lovely, and so keen to help. We only wanted some soda water but they didn’t have any so, not wanting to leave empty handed we cleared them of their small stock of bananas before returning to the boat.

I never did get the chance to return to take pictures of the village because we moved the boat to a part of the anchorage further away the next morning. Instead, I took pictures of a walk on that part of the shore, where we were thrilled to see stingrays and crabs in the crystal clear water.

On Tuesday 10th December we arrived in Cabo San Lucas. It’s a busy, bustling and very tourist-focused city. It was great to make use of all the marina facilities, shops, and Wi-Fi etc but it was a bit…well I guess ‘in your face’ is the best way to describe it. A walk along the marina promenade meant being constantly assailed with loud requests to buy this, eat here, drink a margarita, try this moisturiser, book a fishing trip and countless other things we didn’t want. Some of them literally came up in front to be in your face and this happened every time we walked into town. Paul’s patience was a lot better than mine on these occasions.

Cabo San Lucas was where we last saw our passports, as told by Paul in his blog post. All I have to add is that I am so pleased it wasn’t me who lost them 😉 It’s a shame we have lost all the exotic looking official stamps from the countries we have been, along with our ten year US visa but after a lot of hassle we managed to sort out an emergency one for me to get home in January and have applied for new ones. The silver lining in that particular cloud is that we get to have an unexpected city break in Mexico City when I pick up my emergency passport.

We were in Cabo until the 16^th December and despite the touts and the passports, had an enjoyable time there with the people we had got to know on our travels. We had dinner with some of them in a great vegan restaurant, visited the market in the square to see the Christmas lights and performers, and Paul fixed things that needed fixing. Our Christmas would be spent in La Paz, taking in a few more places on the coast along the way. Pics below of our time in Cabo San Lucas.

Asuncion was touted as being a step up from Turtle bay, so it was with great anticipation that we prepared the dinghy for our trip ashore. Kathy was a little nervous due to the roar of surf breaking on the beach, but I assured her that it sounded worse than it was, and with careful timing we would get ashore without any issue. We wanted to find an internet cafe, or some wifi so we could attend to various tedious matters that were pressing back home.

So let me paint two somewhat different perspectives on what happened next, see if you can work out who is who.
1) Great we’re off to town, might get some internet, and do some decent shopping. First get makeup on, look smart and get into the dinghy. Next thing it’s as if someone has jumped out from an alley, and thrown an icy bucket of water all over your head, then they are pushing you into a swimming pool backwards. Not much fun.

2) Wow were off to explore a new place, and we get to go in the dinghy, brilliant, big surf, exciting, wonder if we can ride a wave right up the beach, better just wear swimming trunks, with any luck I can have a little swim. Woosh, what fun.

Of course Kathy wasn’t happy when the big wave hit her full frontal, and then to top that there was nothing in the town of interest, the internet cafe had just shut and the shops were very basic. Still it was a pretty little town.

Abreojos
The next day we did a short hop to Abrejos, which means ‘open your eyes’ . The pilot guide says this is because there are many rocks and dangers on the route there. Our plan had been to find a local panga (Small run around boat) owner who could take us around the nature reserve lagoon where whales return every year to calf and nurture their newborns. However we were a few weeks early and the pangas were nowhere to be seen. On top of that the weather wasn’t great and the surf on the beach was worse than at Asuncion, and Kathy had no interest in going ashore. so we stayed on board, and had a lazy afternoon.

Bahia Santa Maria
The next day we headed off doing an overnighter to Magdalena bay. This was a 140 mile trip, not a lot happened on this passage, but once we arrived near the bay, we opted to overnight in Santa Maria Bay, a lovely quiet spot and for the first time since we left the USA we were out of the pacific swell.
For those who don’t know there is a difference between swell and waves. Swell is caused by large storms or gales that happen out in the oceans, where waves can be mountainous in size. Once the weather clears, the big waves calm, but continue to travel across the ocean as a long period undulations on the surface. When you look at the surface it appears flat close up, but as you look further away you can see the rise and fall of the sea. When the swell is hitting us side on, the boat rolls terribly, the boat has a resonant frequency for swinging, and if the swell is near this the boat can end up swinging quite violently, with just the slightest swell. We often have the mainsail up, even when there is little wind, as its inertia helps reduce the swinging.
Swell tends to get into everywhere, as it wraps around headlands and reaches into what you would think of as protected bays. It was great to be so far around the headland here that the swell was almost zero.

Mag Bay
From Santa maria Cove we did the short 30nm hop into Magdalena bay itself and anchored off the town of Magdalena Harbour. Here we were also very sheltered and had a lazy few days swimming, kayaking and walking the pristine beaches in the bay.

Belcher Point
From the town we moved down to Belcher point in order to be ready for the long passage down to Cabo San Lucas, which would be our next long passage.
Belcher point is a small strip of land that once had a phosphorus plant, a small airstrip and a cannery. Now all that remains is a lot of broken concrete and a small camp some temporary fisherman that have set up there. I went ashore in the kayak and found the place a bit depressing, the temporary camp was very basic and quite bleak.

Onwards to Cabo San Lucas
We left at first light for the overnight passage to Cabo San Lucas. This port is at the bottom of the peninsula, and marks the end of the Baja Haha Rally, which completed a few weeks back. We were hoping to get a few nights in the marina there and restock. It has everything you expect of a modern town, with several big box hypermarkets out of town.

We arrived mid day and anchored off the main beach in front of some flash looking hotel complexes. The water here is amazingly clear. Cabo is very popular with Americans who come here for the water based activities, sailing/fishing/glass bottom boats/Paragliding, all the usual stuff.

On our way here I felt a glitch in the steering while we were on autohelm, next the autohelm was broken, the motor was whizzing around, but the wheel wasn’t connected anymore. I managed to look in the lazarette and could see the chain had come off, due to a short length of rope that had fallen into the locker and got caught up in the cogs. We had a long way to go so I hooked up the Monitor wind vane steering and that took over for the next 20 hours. In the morning the wind was dropping and I realised that if it dropped much more we wouldn’t be able to sail, and would have to hand steer for the next 6 hours. I had a closer look at the autohelm, and could see that the drive shaft was not connecting to the motor, in fact it was hanging out of the casing. This looked like a major failure, and I was resigned to spending many thousands of pounds getting a new system. I expect my current system is so old it won’t be possible to get spares.
We did end up hand steering for the last three hours doing 30 minute watches, which wasn’t so bad.
While at the anchorage I was able to dismantle the motor and gear/clutch assembly. The shaft had ripped itself out of the clutch mechanism and the key had fallen out stopping it from engaging. Miracuously all the bits went back together, the main problem being two circlips that had been stretched when it broke. It took a few hours, but eventually it all went back together and has been working fine since. Phew!

So we moved from the anchorage into the IGY Marina, a very expensive place, but we haven’t been in a marina for so long we felt like treating ourselves and ended up staying three days.
The town is built around the marina with the main boardwalk/Malecon running around the inner basin that contains three marinas. All around the marina you are constantly being offered boat trips/Tequila tasting/fishing excursions/trips to the famous arches/Cuban cigars, and even weed and coke. Thankfully a ‘No Gracias’ is all you need to say to most of them.

Passport problems
So Cabo is a port of entry and has a harbour master, as do most mexican ports. It is a requirement to clear in and out with each harbour master, or ‘Puerto Capitan’ so off we went up the hill on a very hot day to log in. The bag below had all of our paperwork and our passports in it, it also has a slit down one end where things like passports can slip out when your least expecting it, and be lost forever, which is just what happened.

Now losing your passport in a far away place is something I have always dreaded, and not only had I lost mine, but I lost Kathy’s and my previous expired passport, which I keep as it has my 10 year B1/B2 USA Visa in it, this wasn’t easy to obtain.
I had the receptionist at the Marina write a little note for me that I could show to all the vendors/bars I had passed between the boat and the captains office, it said something like ‘I have lost three passports, has anybody handed them in to you, por favour’
I had seen some unfortunate people approaching me, looking very sad and holding a bit of paper asking for money to alleviate their plight’ now I was in the same boat, in as much as looking miserable and pleading for help! Of course I was fortunate enough that I can just buy my way out of the problem, not an option they have the luxury of.

So I was able to get travel documents issued to me by the authorities here that allow us to move around Mexico without issue. Kathy needs an emergency passport to be able to get home in January, so we have to travel to the capital of Mexico, Mexico City, and visit the British embassy where Kathy will be interviewed, before she is issued the relevant papers. I just need to apply online and they will post it out to me here. I presume Kathy will need to answer the British Citizenship test, she better start brushing up on how many overs there are in a test match, which way to pass the port and who will be ‘getting brexit done’. In a way it’s no big deal as we get a holiday in the City, Kathy was flying via there anyway, so it’s just the cost of a few nights in a hotel, and we get a free trip to the big city.

We went looking for a restaurant that night and found an Indian one, which is usually a safe bet for vegans, besides fish I am mostly vegan now as well.
It was closed but next door had a lovely restaurant where the staff made a fresh salsa to our design as a free starter to our meal.

We had a walk around town the next day and there was a small market with some street performers. Very pleasant

On our last day we had a walk around the marina and Kathy ended up trying some magic creams that the street vendors are constantly pushing. It was quite funny, but the poor guy didn’t get any business from us. Later we looked online and this ‘poor guy‘ had scammed many unsuspecting ladies out of a small fortune by quoting in Peso’s and billing their card in $US, a 20:1 gain. Also a lot of people had bad skin reactions after testing his creams. To be fair we couldn’t be sure it was this particular guy, but that seems to be the MO of the sellers here.

Next we leave Cabo San Lucas and make our way around into the Sea of Cortez. Some bad weather is on the way so we are going to hide for a few days. We won’t be heading any further south this year. In fact we are in the tropics now, but will move back out of them by the time we reach La Paz.

Paul Collister.

Ensenada has the largest flag I have ever seen. It has pride of place at the centre of the small town square on the waterfront. We could see it billowing in the wind as we approached Ensenada Marina on the morning of Friday 8^th November after an overnight passage from San Diego. For most of the way we had been hearing frequent marine reports on the VHF from the San Diego coastguard, delivered in clear and concise language relating to weather, things to watch out for and the odd ‘pan pan’ call. In the early hours of the morning during my watch I was in the cockpit looking at the shoreline of Mexico in the far distance when I was startled by a cheery ‘Hola’ from one of the fishermen on a nearby boat and realised that the American broadcasts must have ceased at some point during the night. We were truly in Mexico now. By the time Paul came on watch at 8am more boats, or pangas as they are called here, had appeared and the shoreline was getting nearer so it didn’t seem worth going to sleep.

The flag was now clearly visible as Mexico’s colourful national flag and made a captivating sight high up as it was and moving gracefully in the wind. We hadn’t bothered calling in to report our approach because we’d already been allocated a specific berth. I was looking out for it through the binoculars, waiting for the pontoon letters to become clearer when I noticed two men standing on the one at the outside edge. They beckoned us over, took our lines and one of them bid us ‘welcome to America’ (just Victor’s little joke – he’s not a big fan of the US). Victor, the manager at Baja Naval Marina proved to be an efficient, friendly and helpful guy as we got to know him. It was he who, after we’d freshened up a little, escorted us to the places we had attend to check in for immigration, customs and with the harbour master. Victor acted as our interpreter, tour guide and instructor as we were hurried through the dusty streets after 20 minutes of passing forms and sheets of paper back and forth in his tiny office. First we had to visit a shop in order to change a bank note so that we would have the exact money to pay the various authorities. I hardly had time to take in my surroundings as he and Paul strode on ahead. I did, however, come to notice one of the first differences in Mexico from Canada and America on those streets. Crossing the roads was hazardous! If I fell too far behind due to taking photographs and Paul and Victor had crossed a busy road ahead, I found myself struggling to work out the ‘green cross code’ equivalent for getting to the other side without being mown down.  If no lights were in operation to halt the traffic you simply had to wait for a suitable lull and take a chance stepping out and hurrying across before the next car got too close. I also noticed the pavements were in a state of disrepair, with rubble, gaping holes and uneven concrete slabs providing more hazards to avoid. Victor appeared to know every stall holder and passer-by we came across, shouting a cheery ‘bon dia’ to them as he marched us forward.  

We chatted to him along the way, telling him where we were from, where we were heading and asking questions about where to find things in Ensenada. Arriving at the building slightly out of breath and sweating from the heat (I was anyway), Victor guided Paul to the relevant desks and told him what papers to show, translating and explaining and selecting the money needed to pay for permits etc. I was a bit superfluous to most of this so took the opportunity to sit and rest while watching the proceedings and marvelling at the fact that Victor has to do this several times a day for foreign boat owners, both for checking in and checking out. Small wonder he is so slender, but he’s also unfailingly cheerful, witty and appears to have endless energy. Our energy was diminishing rapidly by the time we got back to the boat. We hadn’t had much sleep and the heat, walking and all the bureaucracy had taken it out of us. We would have two weeks to explore Ensenada so were in no hurry to do too much on our first evening. A promenade runs along the length of the waterfront from the Cruise Ship Terminal to end of the harbour. This walkway is lined with restaurants, bars and shops, the square being roughly in the centre.

The square is lined with fast food stalls and has a stage for performances. As we got ready to go for a short walk the unmistakeable sound of brass instruments reached our ears. The mariachis were tuning up – actually they were playing tunes, it just sounded like they were tuning up to me. I’m not a fan of music with brass instruments, especially trumpets, and there would be no escaping this considering our position in the marina. It seemed every eatery along the prom had their own band or a recorded performance emanating from it, causing quite a cacophony of sound. As we walked along each and every restaurant had staff placed outside urging strollers to come in to eat or have a tequila/margarita/mojito/beer/.  Since this was to be our main route into town it looked like we’d have to get used to simply politely declining several times and hope they’d remember that one of us was one of those weird ‘veganos’ while the other was a ‘sin alcohol’ person.

Naturally, as in most of the places we visit on a coastline, the food on offer in most restaurants and shacks is predominantly seafood. One afternoon during our time there Paul decided to try the highly recommended tacos in a tiny outdoor cafe just off the main street. It was clearly popular with both locals and tourists and there was a man busily working behind the counter to keep up with demand, flushed and sweating from the heat of frying and ladling the various fillings into tacos. While we waited for Paul’s order I watched what other customers were doing with their plates of food. It seems there is quite a ritual involved in putting it all together. Once you have been handed the plate, you then add things like chopped onions and tomatoes, green chilli sauce, and a selection of various dressings to pour on top of it. It all looked a bit of a messy affair to me. I’m sure I would have ended up with a multi-coloured face if I’d attempted to eat one by hand as so many were doing. Paul enjoyed his chicken one with the aid of a fork – a pic of his dish below.

Ensenada’s Hermosa Beach is described in our National Geographic guide as a popular place for horse riding but goes on to state that the horses there look ‘rather miserable’. We saw those horses when we walked to the beach on our first Sunday in Ensenada. It was a hot morning when we set out for the 30 minute walk and we planned to find somewhere to have a drink once we reached the beach. The walk was adjacent to the main highway and we passed a ranch type establishment which had a group of horses tied to a fence near the road.  Horse-drawn carriages ferry tourists from the cruise liners on pleasure trips along the road so they are probably used for that purpose as well as beach rides.

As we neared Hermosa Beach, I could see that while there is a vast stretch of sand and the beautiful glistening Pacific, the similarity to California’s beaches ended there. This is mainly because of the lack of money to add ‘finesse’ to the surroundings. For example, the beach wasn’t tidied or maintained so although it wasn’t filthy, there was some litter and horse droppings to avoid. Deserted and industrial-looking buildings and barbed wire fences in-between the beach and the main road gave an overall downbeat vibe to the area. The sand was dotted with brown, palm covered tables for picnickers and the odd makeshift tent selling beers and drinks from a cool box. A line of passenger-laden horses was being slowly led along the edge of the beach, on a path set away from the people on the sand. I’m not sure about the accuracy of the miserable-looking description. The owners must make sure they are adequately fed and watered but they certainly didn’t look groomed or ‘perky’ with their heads down and their mottled coats…and some of the riders were not exactly slender.  

At the end of the sand there were a few buildings selling seaside articles such as buckets and spades and windmills but a distinct lack of anywhere to get a drink, apart from the cans being sold on the beach. We sat for a while watching families and visitors make the most of the balmy weather and decided to walk back along the sand. In hindsight, I realise I was judging Hermosa harshly having so recently left California’s pristine resorts, which isn’t really fair. The distinction between the two countries is obvious. America has money in place to make the most of its waterfront locations. Mexico’s economy has no budget for leisure like that of the US. We bought a book about customs and culture in Mexico and learned that 40 per cent of the population live below the poverty line and the majority are not far above it. Leisure is important in this hard working country, especially on Sundays which is, and always has been here, a day for families to spend time together. An afternoon on the beach is made the most of, however it looks. I would clearly need to refine my expectations if I was going to make the most of my time here.

I have never thought about owning a grain of rice with my name on it but we were constantly being asked to buy one whenever we walked past the street vendors. On Monday I ventured out on my own to get a few things from the supermarket. The streets were very crowded and without Paul’s expertise on crossing busy roads, I found myself pathetically sidling up to other people waiting to cross and tailgating them to the other side. Along with the rice sellers were the usual street touts, urging you to go inside shops and buy genuine Mexican souvenirs or into bars and restaurants. Several of the establishments in the town have signs outside welcoming cruise ship passengers, so I guess they are likely to be Ensenada’s main visitors. The supermarket shop was pleasingly cheaper than any in Canada and the US had been, although I hadn’t got used to converting pesos yet and I had to call on my very limited Spanish to understand what was being said to me at the checkout.

Our stay in Ensenada lasted two weeks so we got to know the town quite well. We paid a visit to the nearby museum and the cultural centre one sunny afternoon. We declined the option of a guide to show us around the museum, preferring to read the exhibit signs ourselves. It would have been churlish, however to refuse one young guide’s kind offer to lead us into one of the private balconies above a hall on the upper floor so that we had a view of the area where a casino used to be. He told us in his limited English that rich Americans used to flock there during the prohibition to drink and gamble.

The cultural centre had a Spanish-style square with stalls selling handmade crafts and gifts. We sat there after buying drinks in a very impressive old style bar enjoying the sun and admiring the products on sale.

Later that day when we’d just found a laundry recommended to us by the marina staff, a man approached us to tell us that it was an excellent laundry with lovely staff. He then produced a flower he had fashioned out of palm reed and asked us to buy it. He had a young boy with him and explained that he was trying to teach his son that you don’t get money just by asking. Paul told him he admired that, gave him some money and said he liked him. We were surprised by his retort; ‘well I don’t like you’. He followed with a laugh that it was only a joke, but there was just enough in his face for me to wonder, and then he held his hand out and asked for more money and we decided it was time to make a polite retreat into the laundry. Thankfully that was an isolated incident. We’ve mostly been greeted with smiles and waves and experienced good humoured interaction everywhere we’ve been.  

It was good to see the celebrations for revolution day while we were there. The weekend before the actual day on the 19^th, there was a performance in the square on the Saturday evening. We went along to have a look at the dancers which was very similar to line dancing. The music was quite good, too in that it wasn’t dominated by trumpets. We weren’t quite as keen on the female singer dressed up as a bullfighter who let’s just say, didn’t sing all that well.

We also saw the raising of the mammoth sized flag which was quite a sight to witness. Viewed from far below the flag looks like a giant silk handkerchief, very light and delicate. When we reached the square we saw men from various military groups lining the edge of the square armed with rifles and standing to attention. The flag was rolled up and being held by at least a dozen men in a row with their arms stretched out to support it. It was clearly heavy and we could see that the material was much thicker than it seemed. The strain of holding it up began to show after a while and I felt thankful for them that it wasn’t a sweltering hot day. Behind us on the main street, armoured vehicles carrying men poised with rifles appeared, much to my consternation. I don’t think I will ever get used to feeling comfortable when weapons are in such close proximity.  

Later that day we saw and felt the first rain for weeks; it gradually became heavy and lasted well into Thursday 21st causing parts of the town to become flooded. We were due to leave the following day and the rain had delayed our preparations a bit so we had to fit a lot in on that Thursday. The town was in the throes of preparing for its annual Baja 1000 car rally and our route to town in the morning took in the streets that had been especially prepared for the event. Stalls had been set up along every available space either side of the main road, traffic had been diverted and people were packed tightly on the road browsing the stalls and viewing the customised cars on display up to the starting line. We heard later that the rain caused the start to be postponed due to the flooding.

We had to make two trips to supermarkets, stocking up with food and drink since we would probably only have access to tiny village shops until we reached Cabo in the middle of December. Once we had bought and unloaded the provisions we had to check out of Ensenada, in line with the regulations of the Port Captain. This was basically a reverse of the checking in process, involving more form filling, more paper being passed across desks and another brisk walk to the port authority building with Victor. This time we had company in the form of Jordan, a solo sailor from California who would also be leaving in the morning. He kept me company while Paul and Victor marched ahead, and was kind enough to help me cross the road, too ;-).   

After two weeks in Ensenada’s naval bay, we were going back to sea in order to continue our journey south along Mexico’s Baja California coast. We left at our planned departure time of 9 30 and I watched that huge flag get slowly smaller as we left it behind.        

8th November 2019 , Mexico at last!

I never feel like I can relax in a new country until we have cleared customs/immigration and port control/harbourmaster. Fortunately we had Victor, the marina manager to help us. Victor is a lovely cheery chappy, he went through all the paperwork we would need, made all the copies required, and then walked us to an ATM where we could get the required Pesos out for the visas and boat permits. As he escorted us across town to the relevant office he pointed out places to eat and other useful stores. Once there Victor did all the leg work and we just had to stand there, smiling and signing forms for the relevant officers. It turned out to be very easy, perhaps not the cheapest country to visit by boat. But we were soon signed in with a 6 month visa each and a ten year pass for the boat. Later we would buy fishing licenses and nature reserve passes. 

First impressions of Ensenada are that of a vibrant town on the up, but also a place with no shortage of poverty. In the last few years they have opened up a cruise terminal and there are 3-5 visits a week even now in the winter, we watched the carnival ships Inspiration and Imagination pop in and out on 5 days round trip ‘taster cruises’ from Long Beach LA and also the Disney cruise ships on longer trips. The town now has a nice Promenade, or ‘Malecon’ which leads the cruise passengers from the ship into the main high street where they can be fleeced silly by the local vendors, before they are beckoned to have a meal of ‘fish tacos’ and be serenaded by a local mariachi band. The whole thing  doesn’t appeal to me, as I marched down the same street and had a chicken taco 😉

We had arrived at the start of the Revolution ceremonies, Mexico has had a few revolutions over the years, but the 20th November is the official one now. The town square is right next to the marina and sports a giant flagpole and the ceremonial raising of the flag by representatives of all the forces and official bodies, police/fire/rescue etc became a regular event.

We also saw a concert in the square of traditional Mexican song and dance which was very entertaining. 

Once settled we were off to check out the shops, I was hoping that the town only had a few supermarkets, but it turned out to have about ten main ones and quite a few smaller mercados. After a bit of shopping around I managed to buy a couple of android phones, a Huawei for Kathy as her old Redmi had packed in after she took it for a swim, and a Moto 7 for me, I had hoped to ‘root’ and enable hot spotting, something I can’t do with the iPhone on my at&t plan. I’m still fighting with the phone to get in and flash new software.

While we were here we endured a few days of very heavy rain, the temperature dropped and we were running the heater for a while. This wasn’t quite what I had ordered for the winter and wondered if I had ticked the wrong box for ‘paradise’.

We had a very nice day visiting the local museum, this was housed in an old hotel complex built in the 30’s when the town was very small, it was built for wealthy Americans to come down and drink and gamble in the casino, it was an impressive building, and after the museum we had a drink in the bar there and bought a few trinkets from the stalls setup outside the bar in a pretty courtyard.

Back at the boat, it was time to make our preparations to leave and start the long passage south and into the sea of Cortez. The tap water is not potable (Drinkable) here, so we order 10 * 20 ltr bottles at $1 a bottle, to be delivered to the boat. I took a taxi ride to the garage to fill our jerry cans with 70 ltrs of diesel, this being how much we had used getting here from San Diego.

Before we left we did a big shop at several of the mercados, this being our last chance before we reach Cabo San Lucas. Shops along the way will have very limited choices. 

On our way to the shops we walked through the start line for the Baja 1000 motor race. I hadn’t heard of this before, but apparently it’s a big deal in motor sports. There was quite a collection of off road vehicles, along with lots of stalls setup to service them and the tourists who had gathered for the event. The race which starts on the river banks in the centre of town had to be delayed by a day due to the heavy rain causing the river to flood. 

Finally, fully loaded we were ready to leave. We said goodbye to our neighbours, Brenda and Clay on Sansucci, who we had met first in Monterey, then later in San Diego and off we headed off early the next morning hoping to do a short hop down the coast, and spend the night in a little enclave about 32 miles south called San Jose. However as we left it became apparent that the Pacific Swell was quite big and might make that spot uncomfortable. As we approached it, we heard two yachts in front leaving the cove saying it was too rough and the kelp there was terrible. So I made the decision to go straight to San Quentin which meant an overnight passage to cover the 120 odd miles. 

Arriving at our destination revealed that quite a few squid had decided to jump onto the boat during the night, and expire on the deck. I wouldn’t mind, but on expiring they had left huge ink stains I still haven’t been able to remove fully.

San Quinten, (pronounced San KeenTeen) is quite well protected from northerly winds, of the type we expect to have for a few months now, but turned out to be quite Rolly all the same. It has an entrance to an estuary which I had hoped to explore by Kayak, but altogether the weather was grim, the water choppy, so we slept a lot and the following day pushed on to our next port of Cedros Island. 

Before we left, I popped up the mast to replace a halyard that had shredded. I use it for the spinach pole uplift. I spent a bit of time rejigging the whole spinnaker setup and it’s much better now. I can get my pole up without a huge wrestling jousting match.

Leaving for Cedros town meant another overnighter, and we arrived an hour before sunset. We spent 30 minutes trying to get the anchor to set, on the third try it dug in, but it dragged a little when I gave the boat max revs astern, but as it was very calm I left it at that and set up an anchor alarm on my iPhone, just in case. We hurried ashore before the light left us as the pilot guide suggested this town was one of the more sophisticated along the Baja coast. We weren’t convinced. It reminded me of my few months in Afghanistan, dirt roads, dust everywhere, destroyed buildings, with dogs rummaging through them. Was this a taste of what was to come?

We found a shop and said hello to a few locals. Everyone seems very friendly here, but the town was very run down. There is some fishing done here, but mainly the island is home to a huge salt distribution centre, with a deepwater dock a mile south of the town, with mountainous piles of salt piled up there.

On a rather technical point, I had a shocking, and it was all about shock loading, experience in San Quinten. This is about how not to set an anchor, so skip this paragraph if you like. Basically we normally set the anchor by gently falling back on it , with the engine in low revs in reverse. When I feel it has dug in, we usually increase the revs, to near maximum, depending on the weather and expected weather. Before we reverse, I put a small snubber of the anchor chain from in front of the windlass, back to the Samson post, so that the strain is taken by this line and not the windless when we reverse. Once we are set, I put a bigger snubber line out that goes into the water. We had been reversing, with moderate revs, but the anchor chain kept going from taut to slack, presumably as it wasn’t holding. I was confused, it seemed to set, but then the chain went slack. What was actually happening, and I hadn’t twigged, was the swell was quite large, and was lifting the boat up 5-10 foot on the crests every 15-20. Seconds. Later In a period of low swell, the anchor seemed to be holding so I asked Kathy, who was on the helm to give it maximum in reverse, she did, the chain went bar tight, the snubber taking the full force and I was happy we were set, just needed to check our speed on the gps and we would be done. However at that moment a large swell came in and lifter the boat up high, it was more than the snubber could take and it snapped in an explosive kind of way, the chain hook left the chain and shot off like a bullet, and the remaining rope recoiled back onto the deck. The windless clutch wasn’t engaged, so the anchor chin started screaming out at full speed. I got the brake on the clutch and concluded we were set. Fortunately I had a spare anchor hook, and the one I lost had been a cheap galvanised job, so no great loss. Also the rope I had been using for this short snubber was an old piece of halyard, probably the worse choice as they are designed to be non stretch. The next day I found the old hook sitting on the bow platform right at the front ready to fall off. 

This wasn’t going to be the end of my snubber woes this week.

Wed 27th November, Cedros to Turtle Bay.

As we left the next morning we passed in-between two sets of crab pot marker buoys. I had assumed the two buoys 100 ft on the left belonged to one set of traps, and the group of buoys 100ft to the right, another. Imagine my surprise when I noticed we had gone over a length of floating polypropylene rope joining them together. Normally the rope would glide along our keel and pop out the back without any issue. The shape of our hull means the prop and rudder shouldn’t be able to trap the rope. However this time the rope didn’t pop out and all the buoys were now following us. I had already killed the revs and gone into neutral before the rope had got near the stern of the boat, and I couldn’t go into reverse for fear of snagging the rope, so we just drifted slowly forward towing the buoys as I pondered my next move. Kathy was asking me what are we going to do, and I really couldn’t think what, this shouldn’t happen, there’s nothing for the line to snag on. I’m guessing there must be barnacles on the underside of the keel big enough to hold the rope. Anyway, we hadn’t travelled more than a boats length when the ropes went taught then popped out the back of our boat and we were free to continue our voyage. Over the next few days we found a lot of floating lines are used on marker buoys here and it’s a very dangerous situation, especially for more modern boats that can snag lines easily.

As we left the weather began to turn bad, the rain started and really picked up. I could have filled our water tanks if I had a decent capture system. 

We also had to navigate through endless amounts of marker buoys before we got to Turtle bay. It was only a short day trip across, but required me to put on full foul-weather gear. By the time we arrived in Turtle bay things had improved and we motored close to the town pier and the beach to make it easy to dinghy ashore. 

Turtle bay is the main / biggest town between Ensenada and Cab San Lucas and the first stop on the Baja Haha Rally. A lot of boats refuel here as it’s the easiest place to take on fuel before Cab san Lucas, however the second source of fuel stopped, leaving Enrique with a monopoly. The going rate is normally around 22 peso a litre, but he has upped the price to 33 peso, a 50% hike, plus he charges 10% extra if you want to pay by card. There is a Pemex petrol station in town, but Enrique tells everyone it doesn’t sell diesel, which it does. If you insist on going there, he tries to stop you by saying he will get the police onto you for breaking his exclusive contract to supply diesel in the town. One of the skippers went to the police to get the story and was told Enrique was talking nonsense. Failing all else he tries to intimidate you with his friends on the jetty. All in all this left us with a very bad impression of the place. It wasn’t helped by the very run down nature of the town. It’s such a shame, word will get around and people will stock up on fuel or go to the next port of Bahia Asuncion where there is a Pemex selling diesel for 22 pesos.

On our first day we didn’t go ashore, I wanted to fix our bilge pump. It was making a whirring noise, but not pumping. It took a while, but eventually I had it out from the bottom of the deep bilge, and years of oil removed from its case. When I ran it it seemed to work, but the centrifuge was actually not connecting to the drive shaft due to a retaining circle being absent. I managed to fit a new one, I carry a huge selection, thanks to Aldi who did plastic boxes of this type of thing for a few quid, I have copper washers and fibre washers and springs, all from the same source. I do miss Aldi and Lidl for these bargains. Saying that I expect it’s meant to be stainless steel and the mild steel circlip will soon fail, but I’m going to get a new pump anyway as this one sounds a bit growly, I suspect the bearing in on the way out.

Turtle bay is well protected from all directions except the south west, winds from that direction are very rare at this time of year, however the forecast had been for 10-15 knots from the west, which might bring some swell into the bay. Back at the boat, I checked the forecast and we were now looking at 15-20 knots from the SW, others had a prediction of 20knots from predictwind, which is often very accurate. This was a worry as we are so close to the beach/rocks and 20 knots would be pushing us towards the rocks, should our anchor fail, it would be a matter of 5 minutes before we hit the rocks at best. The wind was forecast to peak at midnight, and by sunset it was around 15 knots and rising. Our anchor was holding well and I was optimistic that we would hold well even if it rose to 20 knots. I was now in a horrible situation, I knew if we left now we would have a very tricky time getting the anchor up in a crowded spot, the swell / waves were getting big and we would have to get everything right to navigate through the anchorage 2 miles across the bay to a more sheltered spot, unsure just how much shelter that spot provided, and the holding over there was reported to be worse the here. So I decided to stay, a few more hours at 20 knots then it was predicted to drop. So by midnight we were up to 25 knots, massive waves rolling and conditions still worsening. The anchor chain and snubber rope were very taut, and we were taking a bashing from the swell. I told Kathy we had to do an anchor watch system, 2 hours on/off, keeping a close eye on our GPS position, and watching for the other 17 boats upwind from us to make are they didn’t drag onto us. By 2AM the wind was hitting 40 knots and the waves were massive. One boat said he saw 50 knots on his anemometer. My eyes were glued to the GPS position on the chart plotter when I heard a loud bang from the bow, as I had feared our snubber had snapped, I later found out the slack chain had been rubbing against the snubber around were it snapped. Climbing up to the bow I could see the chain was iron taut on the small snubber I have by the windlass, since the previous failure I had found some strong nylon rode for this snubber, but I worried it wasn’t going to be enough to absorb the loads we were seeing. I lashed a spare bit of 3 strand nylon around the chain, fed it through the starboard hawse pipe and cleated it off, that would be a temporary solution, but I needed to slacken the other snubber and let out some chain, unfortunately, this rope had locked itself somehow that I couldn’t undo it from the Sampson post, such was the force on it. I decided to try to haul the chain in a bit with the windlass, I waited for a gap between the waves , pulled in the chain, got the hook off, released the chain and let the new snubber take up the slack. It just worked out. I then had to get some new rope to rig up the port side of the snubber, and use a chain hook. This took another hour or so, it was about 4 am before I had it all sorted and the wind seem to have steadied then around 30 knots. All this time the anchor had not budged at all. 

By around 5am the wind was dropping along with the waves and we started to relax.

Come the morning things were more settled and we managed to dinghy ashore.

We had a nice walk around town later, it’s a very scrappy, dusty, muddy place, however the church was spotless and well cared for. I had some lovely fish tacos in a restaurant overlooking the bay and we chatted with other cruisers. In all their were about 20 sailboats at anchor here, as we motored back to sister Midnight from the pier the wind was picking up. 

I had heard of two other cruisers Mike & Chris who were stranded there because there steering had failed. It was a wire and chain system like the one on stardust and Sister midnight, so as I had just rebuilt mine in Sointula I offered to help them fix theirs. A few hours in their rear lazarete the next morning sorted the problem out. Their quadrant had slipped down the rudder post and the wires had left the grove in it, it took a bit of fiddling around to get it all back together, the biggest problem was the swell was causing the rudder to flap from side to side as I was trying to re-attach the cables. It’s great to be able to help people out in a jam, that’s a great thing about the cruiser community, everyone helps each other out.

The following day we hauled up the well dug in anchor and headed off, glad to be out of Turtle bay and heading for Bahia Asuncion.

Since we left Ensenada, cell coverage has been awful, when we do get it, it’s usually 2g with next to no data connectivity. Right now we get a good signal once in a while.

Paul Collister

The city of Oceanside in San Diego County is located close to one of the largest Marine Corps Bases in the United States according to my guide book. On our way to its marina late on the afternoon of 28^th October we saw nothing of this but we did see and hear our old friends the sea lions – a familiar and welcome sight (to me anyway).

They have been allocated their own floating dock on which to ‘beach’ close to the marina berths. The day after we arrived, most of them had abandoned this little square dock and decamped to the floating platform at the end of our pontoon. I had heard them barking in the night and thought they sounded a lot closer than they should have from their dock. Below is the reason why.

Oceanside is a nice enough city, although not as pretty and compact as Redondo. It was a bit of a hike into town to get to the nearest shops and the beach and pier was an hour away on foot. We did a fair bit of walking in Oceanside for the short time we were there. Returning early on the evening before we left, Paul had another confrontation with stubborn sea lions. Two of them had laid themselves full length across the pontoon, blocking our path to the boat. Stamping his feet and clapping his hands merely caused them to stare disdainfully at him without moving an inch. Every time we made a move to walk towards them, though the bigger of the two raised its head and bared its teeth, emitting a warning growl for good measure. I couldn’t help laughing. Eventually we had to resort to the water hose treatment – much to their disgust – before we could get past. Images of Oceanside below.

To add insult to injury, they were more vocal than usual during the night, barking and splashing very close to our hull, yet from the moment we got up to prepare to depart from our berth, they went quiet. I think they are more intelligent than we’ve given them credit for! I still love them though. We were on our way by 9am bound for San Diego with the Santa Ana wind blowing sufficiently to allow us to put the sails up and have a bit of peace from the sound of the engine for an hour or so. As we motored towards our berth in San Diego just before 5pm we could see people on the pontoon ready to take our lines. Two of them were Brenda and Clay who we had met in Monterey. It’s always nice to see familiar faces when arriving in a new port.

During a chat with the Uber driver who took us to the DHL collection office the morning after we arrived, Paul asked him if he could recommend some places we should visit in the city. One of the areas he mentioned was one that I had read about and liked the sound of, so after collecting his parcel we headed to San Diego’s Gas Lamp Quarter.  Our guide book describes it as the epicentre of urban ultra-cool: quaint and romantic by day and rocking by night. We had no wish to go clubbing in its ‘hip’ clubs or trendy bars, so opted for the quaint daytime vibe instead. The district used to be San Diego’s main thoroughfare but descended into sleaziness in the late 1800s when legitimate businesses moved away from the wharves and warehouses. The gas lamps at that time illuminated streets populated with seedy saloons, brothels, opium dens and gambling halls (legend has it that Wyatt Earp operated at least three of them). The area only just escaped the wrecking ball in the 1960s but local preservationists were keen to protect the historic district and The Gas Lamp Quarter Association, formed in 1974, ensured that its oldest buildings remained untouched. Still, it was hard to imagine how it was in the 1800s when we strolled around it. The red-brick streets are dotted with trendy bars, and pavement dining is set up outside the modern bistros, while several fronts of historic buildings have recently been decorated with old fashioned facades. The street lights have been tastefully recreated in 19^th-century style though, it was just a shame we didn’t get to see them in the dark.  

As it was Halloween there was no shortage of people dressed up, parading the streets in horror costumes sporting painted faces and brightly–coloured fright wigs. Passing one restaurant we were startled when a man bounded out in front of us and asked if we were ‘in need of a hug’! I assumed him to be one of the staff but he could just as easily have been another passer-by because the combination of Halloween and the district’s reputation for attracting eccentrics ensured that there was plenty of colourful characters around. We politely declined his kind offer – he wasn’t to know he couldn’t have picked two people less likely to eagerly accept an embrace from a complete stranger.

From there we walked to the waterfront, another ‘must see’ according to our Uber driver. The maritime museum located there incorporates three historic ships and would have taken hours to do it justice. We contented ourselves with gawping at the huge aircraft carrier, (USS Midway Museum) on the Navy Pier in San Diego Bay.  I had never seen a war ship before and marvelled at the fact that such a huge vessel – which frankly looked a bit higgledy piggledy with parts and platforms jutting out at angles all over its top decks – could move at all let alone with several aircraft on top of it. Apparently it was the largest ship in the world when it was built in 1945 and was too big to fit through the Panama Canal. We resolved to visit it before leaving San Diego. The other thing that caught our eye was the 25-foot ‘Unconditional Surrender’ statue on the promenade next to the warship.  This iconic image of a sailor embracing a nurse on VJ Day in 1945 was captured by a photographer during the celebrations and as we would say today ‘went viral’ when it was published. The sculpture seems to be very popular with tourists who flock to replicate the image. I was interested to read that the sailor who claimed to be the one in the photo, died in 2014 aged 86 and was purported to have spent the last years of his life charging women $10 to photograph themselves kissing him on the cheek!

We spent a couple of days anchored in the charge-free area of the marina a few 100 yards from the pontoons to make room for the boats booked on the annual Baja Haha Rally, so it wasn’t until Sunday 3^rd November that a space became free and we moved back to the pontoons for a four day stay. We were now able to make use of the bikes again. San Diego is well set up for cyclists with designated lanes allocated on its main roads and it’s not too hilly a city. It makes shopping for provisions easier and we get to see more of the area.

On Monday we, along with others from the marina, gathered on the green expanse overlooking the bay to watch the start of the Baja Haha Rally. About 200 yachts were positioned on the water waiting for the starting gun that signalled the beginning of their journey to Mexico. The ceremony and humorous interactions coming from the participants and the organisers on VHF reminded me of the start of our adventure on the Atlantic Rally crossing back in 2006.

San Diego’s Old Town was our next sight to see. Another value for money Uber took us to The State Historic Park, the site of San Diego’s original settlement (America’s first on the West Coast), known as The Birthplace of California. Anything focusing on 19^th century life is of interest to me and this attraction recreates the city’s beginnings and has historic dwellings, reconstructed and original buildings, museums, and a Mexican-style market place with old style shops and restaurants. Paul did some Christmas shopping of all things in some of the shops there. It was fascinating to see the reconstruction of early settlers’ homes and to look at a genuine Wells Fargo stagecoach. There was even a haunted house! Whaley House is southern California’s oldest two-storey brick building (1856) and people have apparently reported seeing members of the original family still ‘living’ there along with a boat thief who was hanged on the site before the house was built. Paul said it was all nonsense and it was too late to go in there anyway. Shame – I would have enjoyed seeing a genuine 19^th century ghost. Pics below of the day.

California operates daylight saving time too, but the clocks went back a week later than in the UK. The period between Halloween and Bonfire Night in the UK always heralds the start of the Christmas build up for me. The shops in San Diego had been full of Halloween cards and decorations and now cards for Thanksgiving on November 28th lined the shelves, with a small area given over for Christmas stuff. The sunny warm days meant that it didn’t even feel like autumn to me, let alone a need to begin preparing for Yuletide festivities. This didn’t stop Paul heading off to the Post Office on November 6^th to post the Christmas presents he had bought and wrapped for people back home. He wanted to make sure they went from the US and we were still uncertain about our departure date for Mexico. We needed to leave our berth on the 7^th but still hadn’t secured a place in Ensenada. With only one free day left, it was time to visit the USS Midway, so after the parcels had been sent off we got on the bikes and cycled all the way to the waterfront – a distance of about five miles. This was mostly on flat roads thankfully, and we stopped a few times to look at things so it wasn’t too arduous despite the warm day.

The warship itself was expensive but it was undeniably good value for the admission fee. Everything you could possibly want to know about life on board the gargantuan vessel and the fine details of aircraft carriers was covered. Audio guides narrated by Midway sailors were provided and it was possible to sit inside fighter planes and play with the controls. Kids and adults of all ages were lapping it all up on the day we were there. I must admit it was quite thrilling to sit in the cockpit of one of the actual World War 2 fighter jets, and to sit inside a helicopter. Some of the staff were men who had served on the ship and they welcomed the chance to answer questions and chat with visitors about their time in service or on statistics and engineering queries. We read about the character (Maverick) that Tom Cruise played in the film Top Gun – interestingly there are special Top Gun Movie Nights when the ship hosts a party for people who wish to watch the film under the stars. Home to 225,000 sailors, The Midway was finished just a week too late to serve in World War 2 but it was used in the Vietnam conflict and during The Gulf War where it was the flagship of Persian Gulf air operations in Operation Desert Storm.  

We were amused by the robotic character placed behind a desk who acted out a scenario to inform visitors about the stresses involved in the busy day to day running of life on board. His narration could only ever come across as corny.  A gift shop and a café has taken up part of the enormous main entrance deck – the goods on sale were very highly priced but I guess if anyone wants a bomber jacket like the one Tom Cruise wore, it’s worth every cent to buy it on the Midway and in the city where it was filmed.

It was dark by the time we emerged from the bowels of the ship so it was a ride home in the dark and as always when the sun sets it was a cold evening. The effort of cycling this time warmed us up rather than made us sweat. When we got back to the boat it was time to plan our departure the following morning for Ensenada. We would be in the Mexican part of the Pacific Ocean sometime on the 7^th November. Another new country for me.

Kathy  

So the song by Albert Hammond goes. Well it hasn’t – rained that is. I actually can’t remember the last time it rained. The song does go on to say that it pours; ‘man it pours’. However, since we will be leaving this part of America in a few days’ time I think it’s safe to assume we’ll see no rain. The days have been delightfully clear, bright and sunny, with chilly mornings and evenings but bearably hot during the day. I think I’ve discovered my ideal climate here. We can now congratulate ourselves on completing a voyage down the whole of the west coast of America. Mexico beckons shortly, but we made the most of our Southern Californian sojourn. It began with a little bit of drama during the night of October 16th.  We’d left Morro Bay that morning with an early fog that cleared after a couple of hours. No engine, the sails were up and moving us along at a good 5 knots of speed so it began peaceful and economical, if a little bit rolly. We’d bought ready-made burritos for dinner in case conditions were bumpy. I’d never had one before, not being a fan of Mexican food and the burrito didn’t really convert me. Furthermore, it burned the roof of Paul’s mouth after being in the oven for an hour as directed. It made me laugh when he remarked that nothing vegan should need that long to cook. Maybe they’ll be better in Mexico…

The autohelm had been repeatedly steering us off course and had clearly developed a fault, but the wind vane had been doing a great job all afternoon. The wind began to drop while I was on the first night watch and without the wind it struggled to keep the course. Paul’s watch, therefore, had to begin earlier than it should because I had to call him to sort it out. I was dubious about going below to sleep considering that the autohelm was having a problem steering. I figured we might need to take turns hand steering on shorter watches for the duration of the trip. Paul said we’d see how things went and without expecting to, I did fall asleep. It was a fitful sleep – the combination of the bouncy motion and the noise of the engine filtered through my dreams so that I felt I was being thrown around in a tumble drier. I woke to hear the wind blowing hard and rattling the sails and sheets around up above but I couldn’t see or hear Paul. I lay there trying not to panic and was just about to go up when he appeared in the cockpit, calling my name and telling me he needed me on deck. I knew it must be urgent but had no idea what was happening. The boat was listing to starboard at a sharp angle so I struggled to keep my balance getting my outdoor gear on. Paul was battling with the headsail sheets and I could feel that we were speeding along too fast. I couldn’t stop myself asking if we were in danger which didn’t go down too well, but I was half asleep and he did look anxious. I asked what I needed to do and received the answer that I could either sort out the furling line on the bow or take the helm to steer us away from an oil rig! I stepped into the cockpit, and a wave hit me side on as I stood to look ahead (that woke me up). I was confronted with the surreal sight of a huge and extremely brightly-lit oil rig seemingly a few feet away from us. It was like something from a science fiction film – think giant robot – and I had to take the wheel while struggling not to fall onto the starboard guard rails which were almost in the water from the angle we were at. The noise of the whistling wind and the flapping sails was frightening but not as scary as the oil rig getting ever closer. While Paul was on the bow I lost sight of him and had to keep screaming out for him to let me know he was still there. After what seemed like ages he returned and managed to get reefs in the main sail while I steered but I soon became disorientated by the oil rig’s bright lights and the sharp listing and before I could correct it the course had gone awry which culminated in the boom shooting over to the other side – a crash jibe!  This minor disaster necessitated more steering and instructions shouted above the noise of the wind before things finally settled down. We still had the faulty autohelm to deal with, but Paul effected a temporary repair and the rest of the journey passed relatively smoothly. There were no other vessels around and no more oil rigs. The gale abated and I was never as pleased to see the sun rise that morning 😉

Despite the alarming events of the night, I agreed to steer us across the choppy bar at the entrance to Oxnard Marina, but it was such a small one we were across it and in calm waters before I even had a chance to worry. The day was sunny, clear and calm and the marina, complete with resident sea lions was a welcome sight: it was hard to believe we’d experienced such rough conditions the previous night. It’s a huge marina so the passage to our berth took us along a long stretch of water with pontoons on either side of us. I was amused to see a group of sea lions basking on the stern platform of a posh super yacht (the ‘For Sale’ sign it sported didn’t specify that it came complete with sea lions).   

Once berthed, we left further exploration until we’d caught up on sleep. There was also a fair bit of sorting out and a few faulty things to fix, so apart from our customary provisioning trip it wasn’t until Saturday 19^th October that we set out on a full day of sightseeing. The sight I particularly wanted to see was Spahn Ranch in Chatsworth, about an hour’s drive from Oxnard. No longer a ranch (it burned down in the 1970) it used to be a movie set where Westerns such as Bonanza were filmed in the 50s and 60s. The site is notorious for being where the Manson family lived for two years from 1967-69. Given this, it’s hardly surprising that it isn’t advertised or indeed signposted. It took a combination of research and (my) existing knowledge to locate it on a map. Paul had hired a car for a few days so our trip began once the location had been programmed in to the satnav. We drove off later that morning with the air conditioning on, sun visors down and the car radio tuned in to…I would have loved to say a station playing suitable music for a road trip in the LA vicinity but unfortunately the ones we found didn’t really meet that description – too many irritating adverts. 

Despite our careful planning, it proved very difficult to find Spahn Ranch, even with the aid of other crime boffins online who had visited the spot and uploaded pictures and videos to YouTube. Looking at the landscape surrounding us, it was easy to see why it was ideal for Western productions. Rolling hills and valleys in a remote spot with creeks, caves rugged terrain and lush wooded areas – it also provided the ideal out of the way place for Manson’s hippie commune. The almost blind owner was unaware of their more malign intentions and activities. Eventually we parked the car in the car park of a church as near as we could possibly be sure that the ranch had been situated, and followed a path through the woods across the road. Paul studied pictures and videos on his phone of a group’s previous visit and we actually matched some of the images with those we were seeing. We found foundation stones and other clues that we were in the right area and spent an hour exploring and taking pictures, seeing no one else the entire time we were there. It felt a bit eerie to be in such an empty and abandoned spot which had once been full of action with people and horses and old wooden buildings. Now it is more like a woodland trail in the countryside but not unpleasant for that. As we left the site and emerged onto the road a man in a car parked there stopped us and asked if we knew the way to Spahn Ranch as he and his daughter were having trouble finding it. His daughter, who looked about 15 was the one who was keen to find it and listened intently as I described what we’d seen. It seems the fascination with Manson is ongoing.

The next day’s road trip was to a place associated with the more positive aspects of the hippie era. Venice Beach is where Jim Morrison of The Doors used to hang out, along with several other notable musicians, poets and performers. It had been the centre for The Beat generation from the 50s and has gained a reputation as a place for the creative and artistic, which naturally includes delightful eccentrics. I had actually been there in 1983 but at that time, to my shame, I was unaware of its cultural relevance to so many of the things that I came to admire and revere later in life. To get there we drove some of the way along the Pacific Coast Highway which overlooks the Pacific Ocean from great heights with stunning views. We also went through the scenic beauty of Malibu with its affluent neighbourhoods, magnificent houses and picturesque boulevards, a mere stone’s throw away from golden beaches. Again, it was a perfect day weather-wise to see all these things; sunny, clear, and warm.

We headed straight for the famous boardwalk, arriving there around 2pm when it was thronging with people. I found it captivating from the outset. There was so much going on and so much to look at it was hard to know what to do first. Stalls, shacks and shops lined either side of the boardwalk – the beach side was interspersed with street artists and performers and vendors selling handmade crafts and jewellery, while the park hosted skaters, dancers and skateboarders. The air was filled with the aromas of traditional culinary beach fare along with a wide variety of fast food to satisfy every taste. There was an almost celebratory atmosphere all along the two mile boardwalk and in the park. Upbeat music drew us to an area where some roller skaters were performing so we sat on the grass and watched them for an hour but I could easily have stayed there all the rest of the day. The music was great and there were some spectacular dance moves from some of the characters. Paul took some video footage of them which he edited for a great piece that captures just how entertaining it was (link is included in his blog).

Venice has other delights to marvel at which I had missed on my last visit. We walked to the inland part of town and found ourselves in the canal district. Pretty little bridges spanned the waterways and almost all of the elegant houses in the streets alongside the water were tastefully decorated for Halloween. We took lots of pictures as we meandered through this Venice – named for the more famous Italian city but which has totally different charms to admire. We stayed long enough to enjoy the sunset, which as can be seen below was pretty amazing.  

Ventura is only a short drive from Oxnard so while we had the car I couldn’t resist suggesting we go for a drive on ‘Ventura Highway’. This is the title of a song I used to play a lot in the 70s by the band America, who also had a hit with ‘Horse with No Name’. The beach at Ventura is a much more sedate and understated affair than Venice. Fewer people and miles of quiet, largely empty sandy beaches.  We saw a few strollers and some children enjoying the late afternoon sun.  

From Oxnard we motored to Redondo. The journey took most of the day (23^rd October). There was no chance of sailing  on this windless day and we hadn’t gone very far before a police boat motored up to us to advise us to change course as we were heading for a region used as a firing range. We didn’t need telling twice! We were joined by dolphins leaping either side of the bow for part of the journey which Paul managed to capture on film (again, on his blog). Around 5pm we could see the breakwater where the mooring buoys were located and once again the unmistakeable sound of sea lions honking reached our ears and made me smile. The mooring buoy we grabbed was different to those we usually tied to. These had poles with ropes attached so the pole had to be hooked first in order to tie the ropes to the boat. I steered us to it and Paul made quick work of securing us – close enough to the sea lions’ pontoon to smell their fishy aroma.

As we make our way further south we are nearing the Tropic of Cancer and it’s definitely feeling warmer in general; well the butter is getting too soft to keep out of the fridge anyway. Considering such Mediterranean-like warmth it was a case of another day, another beach on Thursday 24^th. Redondo Beach didn’t get much of a write up in my Lonely Planet guide. It’s described as an ethnically diverse, working class beach town notable for its pier before going on to recommend its two wonderful adjacent ‘sister’ South Bay beaches. We liked Redondo Beach. The dinghy park is near the ‘notable’ pier and the wharf was a typical fisherman’s wharf with fishing boats and people working on them, except that the surrounding boardwalk was lined with cafes and bars that appeared to be aimed at locals as opposed to tourists. The pubs had character – one we passed was full of men who could only be workers and fishermen. Similarly, the beach itself was lined with residential buildings on its promenade with the main hub of bars and restaurants in a spot near the town centre. I guess this is what the guide meant by a ‘working class beach town’ but for us this was a positive factor. We had lunch in one of the town bars overlooking the beach before our usual supermarket trip.

Redondo Pier took on an enchanting aspect once it began to get dark. There are over 50 dining, shopping and entertainment venues on it and the subtle, pretty lighting and vibe emanating from them act like a magnet. We dinghied over to watch the sunset and have an evening walk along it. (Pics below).

Our next stop proved to be something of a disappointment. Santa Catalina is an island approximately 30 miles southwest of California and is only 22 miles long and 8 miles across at its greatest width. It’s a nature reserve and a popular getaway for Los Angeles residents and is purported to have great hikes, cycle routes and wildlife. The journey there had been one of the smoothest and trouble-free yet, despite some concern about the Santa Ana wind hampering our progress. In fact, there was no wind at all so we motored for the six hour passage and picked up a mooring buoy at 2 o’clock on Friday 25^th. No sea lions here. In fact there wasn’t much of anything! Looking at it from our buoy, positioned on the remote west end of the island at Two Harbors, I could see a tiny cluster of buildings in the middle of the isthmus, and parched low hills on either side of it. There were no signs of life on the boats moored around us and we were directly opposite some lorries and trucks in a small industrial quarrying site. Two Harbours is admittedly the ‘second’ centre of population with only a few hundred people, while Avalon, the main town is the more ‘happening’ resort with a larger population. We planned to check that out the following day.

Meanwhile we got in the dinghy for the short distance to the shore and had a look around. With very few cars on the island, it was very quiet ashore. We walked along the path to the centre of the isthmus, passing closed up and empty buildings and the usual signs forbidding you to do lots of things. First, Paul went to check us in at the tiny harbour office and came out visibly shocked at the coast of an overnight stay on the mooring. At $60 it was more than some marinas, and we were told we’d need to ‘check out’ of the buoy area by 9am. Walking around didn’t take long. We looked at a house that had been used for a film starring Joan Crawford in 1932 (pictured below), and read about the bison that inhabit the island. Fourteen of the creatures were brought over for the filming of an American Western in 1924 and had remained there afterwards. Apparently the scenes with the bison never made it into the film and it was deemed too costly to transport them back. There are about 150 on the island now but we didn’t see any. We didn’t see any other animals either. A sign told us there are island foxes, Californian ground squirrels (ah, so that’s what the squirrels are here), and four types of mice. We might also spot a Southern Pacific Rattlesnake; I’m pleased to say we didn’t see that! Apart from some resort facilities, a few late-in-the-season holidaymakers and a small shop, we didn’t see much else and I felt the place lacked atmosphere. We went back to the boat, hoping that Avalon would be better.   

The next day was spent a few feet away from the mooring buoys in the free anchorage area. Paul explored the shorelines in the kayak while I had a relaxing day on board. The VHF kept broadcasting alarming ‘pan pan’ updates about people getting into trouble at sea. There were reports of boats drifting uncontrollable towards rocks, life jackets seen floating in the water and yachts that had gone aground and been abandoned. I found myself captivated by the updates and thankful that no one died. Part of those dramas had been down to the infamous Santa Ana wind, which Paul had been keeping up to date with on the weather forecasts. His feeling was that it would be fine for us to move around the corner to Avalon the following day since it was only a short distance and we could always return to the anchorage if conditions got rough.

On Sunday 27^th that was exactly what we did. We woke to a chilly and blustery morning and heard warnings for small craft thinking of journeying in the area. The advice was not to go anywhere. Paul said it would be fine as we would be within the shelter of the island for the short distance so we weighed anchor late in the morning and motored out onto waves heavy with swell and 18 knots of wind. I couldn’t help thinking of the yachts who had got into difficulties the previous day. Not long after we’d set off Paul said we would have to go back. The coastguard had broadcast a report stressing the dangers for vessels heading to Avalon due to the severity of the Santa Ana wind. Since it was cold, rocky and very windy, with yet more vessels calling in with distress calls to the coastguard I wasn’t sorry to return to the sanctuary of the anchorage. Unfortunately this meant we had missed our chance to see Avalon because we had a berth booked at a marina at Oceanside near San Diego (Santa Ana wind allowing).