Category: Uncategorized

Friday 5th March
It’s friday, I’m meant to be leaving the marina on Tuesday but the weather turns rough next week, the mainland crossing I planned would happen after several days of 25 knot winds from the north, so although I would cross at the end in 20 knots on the beam and go very fast, I would also have big waves on the beam making it very uncomfortable, and maybe even unsafe if they were high enough. There’s a few hundred miles of open sea to the north, which is quite a large fetch for the waves to build in.
So I will leave the marina on Tuesday morning and drop the anchor in the bay here and wait for a good weather window.

The week started with a lot of chopper and boat activity from the local navy base. They were practising hoisting people off and onto boats.

On Wednesday I took a trip down to the shallow end of the bay to see a boat that had broken free from its mooring. I know nothing about it other than that it looks like it was a sturdy ocean going yacht once. It does have the look of a long abandoned boat, the hatches and lockers are open, and I suspect she may have been striped over the years, but I believe she was happy on her mooring 2 miles further up the bay until Monday. She is now aground near the beach and will become an eyesore and hazard. I expect the owner is not interested and the authorities have no budget to allow for recovery. I suggested to Arturo that we rescue the boat, put it back on its mooring and he could move onboard and save some rent. Of course, once the boat had any value, owners or debtors start to appear. I firmly think abandoned boats need to be confiscated and sold/removed asap.

A British ship arrived today, the Michaela Rose, this is a rarity, we hardly ever see British flagged vessels as we sail around the world, no shortage of UK ensigns with daft symbols on them, signifying flags of convenience, cayman islands etc.

It’s crewed by a few English guys I could hear their jolly banter, they also played Elton John and the Beatles quite loudly, I’m not sure this is a strict requirement of being UK flagged, if so I’m in trouble. It’s a 50m older style ship, has come from San Diego and I think is on charter.

The varnish work is done for another year, it’s looking great in places, and the hatchet job it really is , in others.
I’m going to wash the fibreglass topsides tomorrow then load the dinghy onto the deck, ready for the off. I tried to polish the hull with a polishing power tool that’s been lurking in the tool cupboard for many years. I never tried it before as it’s 110v 60hz (USA Power) and in Asia we generally had 240V, so it sat in the cupboard. Anyway, I got nowhere, I popped to the chandlers, thinking the auto polish I had bought in Malaysia and never used, was no good, and bought some expensive boat stuff, against my better judgement, still no improvement, I tried a little gentle rub with some 1000 grit paper and could see the gelcoat disappear rapidly, so stopped that game quickly. I’m going to have another go at it on Sunday, in the meantime I will do some reading and youtubing. It always looks so easy in the YBW or practical boating articles.
Arturo came and cooked a big pan of Shrimp soup for me, very tasty, later I tried to say “In England we would say” in Spanish only to have him give me a hard time on pronunciation as you can see in the vid below.

The authorities have reduced us down to ‘Yellow Alert’ as hospital admissions drop. The Malecon, beaches and piers are open again, and the signs requiring masks to be worn have disappeared, although most local people I see, and myself, continue to wear them.

I decided to give the fridge a good defrosting today, It took a while, and a huge amount of self restraint not to hack at the last bits of ice stuck behind the ice box. The urge to break the ice off is ridiculous, I know that if I poke too hard, i will break the evaporator or pipes leading to it, and that usually ends up with a bill for a few thousand dollars, plus a week or two in dock with no cool drinks, yet I still stand over it, wooden spatula in hand, because that’s safer I think, waiting for it to be safe to poke. Once I start poking I need someone to pull me away. If anyone can bottle that desire/graification and flog it, they’re onto a fortune.

Back at the marina offices, it seems the birds are very active building nests and scurrying around. These lovely classically styled tile roofs make a good nesting spot for the birds as you can see below.

Back on the boat I have a final wash of the cockpit before mounting all the MOB (Man Overboard) gear. It’s not a lot of use when sailing solo, but should I pass someone strugling in the water, at least I have things I can throw at them. A drop of phosphoric acid brought the teak up looking like new.

On Sunday Arturo and I have a final Sunday dinner.

On Monday I realise the boat is heeling far to much to starboard. This was also a problem on Lady Stardust, and I had always thought it was a design fault, which it sort of is. However seeing Greg’s baba 40 in the dock a few months back, sitting perfectly vertical made me decide to do something about it.

To calculate the list (leaning to one side) I strung a bit of cord up with a weight at the bottom, measured the deflection and the length, followed by a recitation of the SOH,CAH TOA rhyme we learnt at school, and went for TOA, tangent = Opposite over Adjacent. I didn’t have my log book with me, I must have left it in the 70’s somewhere, but figured my iPhone calculator could do it.

Several frustrating hours later I had a number, 3 degrees of starboard list

The problem with the list, besides the boat looking stupid in the Marina, and the starboard side of the boat having more growth on the boot top, is that water collects in places around the sinks where it shouldn’t, also it just doesn’t feel right.
The problem stems, in my opinion, from the fact that the best place to stow batteries is under the stb quarter berth bunk, initially the boat could probably run on half the number of batteries I have now. Add to that that the Quarter berth becomes the obvious place to dump stuff you rarely use, like fold up bikes, aircon units, diving gear etc. Also on this baba, the lockers on the starboard side are easy to access compared with the port side, so tend to get very full, especially with heavier things like paints, tools, nuts and bolts, spare rigging etc.
So on Monday I started moving all the heavy stuff that is not needed in an emergency, over to the port side behind the main sofa. The Aircon, which I should sling, was moved to the port sofa. And the empty port water tank was topped off.

As you can see from the baba Swingometer of list, things are a lot better now.

Off to the supermarket for some last minute provisioning and I was intruiged by what looked like dandelions in the herbs section.

Above is a sign many restaurants display, giving the strict rules to observe for dining. I would like to have one of these as I think soon people will be ripping them up and / or burning them as the pandemic ends, yet my great grandchildren will probably look at them with disbelief that such a time existed. They will be on a par with the war museum posters like ‘Dig for Britain’ or ‘Careless talk costs lives’

This is Arturo hanging out with his sea lion friends.

Tuesday 9th March
After 3 months tied to the dock, I cast off the lines, well actually Debbie from next door threw them to me. I timed it for slack water, but as usual the current didn’t agree with me and I started drifting immediately towards Debbie & Tom’s motor yacht. A quick blast on the throttle and we were out of their way, and 15 minutes later I was dropping the anchor just off the Malecon, where the tide did seem to be just about to turn. It’s very quiet out here, it’s also a very hot day, quite humid with a rather grey sky.
On the morning net, I heard there was a free walkup facility for vaccines in Loreto, if you are over 60. So that’s an option I must investigate. I think it’s true here as well, but harder to find out about. I also received an email from my UK doctor today inviting me to take my vaccine.

As the day comes to a close, I presume the Brits decide that if the good ship Sister Midnight is leaving, they must follow, and so steamed out just now.

I’m back into power conservation mode. The batteries are a few years old now, and don’t hold their charge as well, so I have to keep an eye on everything.
I put Diamond Dogs by Bowie on the sound system and cranked it up while I sat in the cockpit, something Kathy wouldn’t appreciate, and remember that it’s about Orwell’s book 1984, which is weird as Arturo just bought me a copy of 1984 in Spanish. Something I plan to read in full over the next few weeks. When we stayed in Deià in Mallorca, Spain we met the son of Robert Graves, the english poet and author. I may have remembered this wrong but I think his mother taught herself Spanish by reading Don Quixote in its original Spanish form. 1984 sounds like more fun to me, I recently re-read the book in english so I have a head start. I can thoroughly recommend both 1984 and Animal Farm as being particularly relevant to these modern times, there’s another link, as when we lived on board Stardust ( a bowie song) in Barcelona, we would often walk along ‘La Rambla’ in front of the building that George Orwell was on the roof of, firing his rifle during the Spanish civil war. I presume he spoke some Spanish.

Paul Collister

Sunday 21st Feb 2021.
So I guess you worked out this isn’t a post from Kathy. It’s a week now since she left and I have started on the task of making the boat look like new. I’m leaving in two weeks as my monthly term with the marina runs out, and it’s time to find warmer water.

Since Kathy left I have been doing small jobs on the boat, a little bit of programming, and quite a bit of lazing around. I’ve tried to up the Spanish learning a bit, but haven’t fully immersed myself as planned. But I’m optimistic I’m going to learn a lot over the next few months.

Arturo is learning the art of varnishing, today he spent two hours stripping old varnish off the eyebrow and grabrails on the coachroof port side. I have asked him to be here for 8am tomorrow so that he can get the first coat of varnish on. I have managed to get a first coat on the rub rails and two coats on the cap rails. I spent an hour today cleaning the steel bars that run along the rub rails to give them extra protection. In all the port side of the boat is starting to look great. With two weeks left I plan to spend one week on the port side, then flip the boat and repeat on the other side.

Arturo unknowingly guided the CEO of an airline (French I believe) around the islands a few months back, he did the whole thing in French, and the owner of the company was so impressed he recommended that a group of his employees use Arturo as their guide when they visit La Paz, so yesterday Arturo led them around the islands listening to him tell them the history of the islands, the story of Hernan Cortez, the mating habits of Sea Lions, and some nonsense on cloud types I taught him. It all went very well, and hopefully Arturo is building up a following and reputation here. I expect he will be running his own high end Eco tour company in a few years time.

Maria has now taken to flying into the cabin and wandering around when I’m not paying attention. Not just to the breadboard, but the length of the boat!

While working on the deck I decided to pour the contents of a diesel jug into the main tank, and then get it refilled at the local station. This will save me taking the boat to another marina to refill. However after I had put about 5 litres of the fuel into the tank I stopped as the diesel looked odd.

I took a sample into a cup and it was definitely the wrong colour, it also smelt of paint. This was worrying, after an hour the fuel looked the same, often a contamination will separate out and sink or float. looking at the container it was stored in, it’s clear the inside is a different colour where the diesel was. I have concluded that the diesel dissolved the inside of the container over time, it may have been in there for a year by now, and that it was so fine it had bound to the diesel fuel like a stain. I disposed of the fuel and the container, I just hope that the fuel I put into the tank isn’t going to be a problem.

I had to do some cleaning in the bilge area of the main cabin and I’m always shocked when I see how much machinary, wiring and plumbing there is. Is this normal, looks more like I would expect on the Space station than in a sailboat.

Another job I finally got started was the starboard whisker stay fitting. This is a bracket that attaches one end of the whisker stay to the boat, the other end goes to the bowsprit, its job is to stop the bowsprit swinging from side to side as the headsail fills with wind, and to some extent when the mast pulls on it.

It had a crack in it, and I have been meaning to do something about it for years, but dreaded taking it off as I suspected it would be very difficult to do. In the end, it took me all of ten minutes. Now I need to find a welder to make me a new one, I had thought it could be repaired, but I think a new backplate is in order.
It’s amazing how stuff like steel can just crack, I doubt this was ever under any real strain.

Monday 22nd Feb
A trip to the optician starts the week off, I wonder if this might be a good way to get the coronavirus and almost back out, but I double up on the masks and take a risk. My eyes are really struggling to read small stuff, and I’m getting headaches if I’m on the laptop for too long. The visit goes well, and they are very diligent in cleaning all the equipment just before I stick my head in it. The poor guy who died in the boat near to us is suspected to have caught the virus from his dentist, but I think they have to get a lot closer than opticians.

The rest of the week is mostly about sanding and varnishing. Arturo is quite handy with a heat gun and scraper now. In trying to find a new scraper I empty out one of the lockers and decide a good clearout is called for. I have a theory if you have done 10,000 miles through countless countries, over several years and you still haven’t used the 7/16″ 6 inch PVC tube, or the vacuum cleaner extension pipe, then they can go. The lockers are a lot more empty, tomorrow I will need a 7/16″ 6 inch PVC tube.
We pop over to a local stainless steel fabricator who is happy to build me a new whisker stay bracket for $2500 (peso), around £90, not cheap, but not outrageous either.

While resting in the cockpit in between coats of varnish, this guy flies in and takes up a sentry position on the monitor steering, and doesn’t seem to care about Arturo and I sitting right next to him. Arturo wonders if it might be one of the local ‘tropical cormorants’ that are around here. It’s quite a big bird and I’m glad Maria and Carlos aren’t here.

By thursday I have slapped about 5 coats of varnish on the port cap rail, and the same amount on the rub-rail. The eyebrow and grab rail also have 3 coats and more will go on, possible once I leave town. The port hull is washed, but not yet polished.
At 3:30, when the tide is turning we leave the slip and head out for a 5 min trip into the bay, long enough for me to move the lines and fenders over to the other side as when we head back into the marina I reverse into our slip so the starboard side is now against the pontoon and we can start cleaning that up.

I take advantage of the engine being hot to change the oil & filter, It’s been 170 hours of engine running since the last change. I think the manual recommends every 100 hours. I wondered if I have recently changed it, but the log I keep says it was last march, a year ago, so that would be about right. I wonder if I forgot to put an entry in the log and as I’m writing this I realise I havent put today’s oil change into the log. So who knows. What I do know is that I aligned the level of new oil exactly to the max oil marker, then I remembered you have to push really hard to get the dipstick to go all the way in, which it did, now I have about 3mm too much on the dipstick. I don’t want to have to extract it, so I need to search the web until I find someone who says it’s ok.

One of the advantages of being ‘Stern In’ is that I get a clearer view of the sunsets from the cockpit, and tonight is spectacular.

The new bracket arrived on Friday and Arturo helped me fit it, I tried to teach him the art of sikaflexing without getting it everywhere, but ended up showing him how to remove sikaflex from unwanted places.

This is one of the things I enjoy a lot about the cruising lifestyle, having to find local trades folk who can make fancy things from basic materials, at short notice, and for reasonable prices. When something like a steel bracket breaks, or a plumbing fitting that’s a bit bespoke fails, just grab said part, head off down the pontoon asking along the way, and you’re soon enough in a workshop with an engineer saying, yes of course I can make that, come back tomorrow.

Next on the list was a leaking deck prism, these are blocks of glass in the shape of a prism, fitted into the deck and when the sun shines, they spread light far and wide inside the boat. I love them, except that they require a large hole cutting in the deck to sit in. This invariable leaks, as this Port/Midship one did.

Unfortunately, as I dug out the old sealant, and criticised the poor workmanship of whoever put it in, I started to recognise the flaws in the fitting. I think the rubbish job, may well have been mine from a few years ago. I decided it couldn’t have been, and proceeded to do the same sort of repair I would have done back then if it had of been me, which means it’s going to leak again. To make matters worse I have decided to rebel against all thing ‘Marine’ that are very similar to non Marine things, like glue and sealant. So I’m using an off the shelf builders sealant at £3 a tube, instead of the fancy Sikaflex at more like £20. I might not be so cavalier if the job was below the water line, but worst case scenario here is that Kathy will get drips on her head if it rains a lot!

Arturo is here every other day or so when there is no work on the tour boats. He is getting better at varnishing and is very good at scraping and sanding. We now have 3 coats of varnish on all the woodwork, with 7 coats on the cap rails. The boats looking a lot smarter. I polished all the steel in the pulpit area, and the bowsprit and platform are looking good.
In 7 days time I will chug on out of the Marina, still not sure of where to go, but the most likely destination is Mazatlan over on the mainland, a sail of around 36 hours, So I would leave at 7 AM and arrive in the afternoon on the following day.

Paul Collister

We had several obstacles to overcome before I could be sure of setting off on my journey back to the UK. I say ‘we’ but in fact it was Paul who took on the research and tasks for obtaining all the forms and documents I would need to present.  The hardest part for me was getting tested for the virus. A negative test result was one of the mandatory requirements for travel and it needed to be taken at a specific  time before departure. I was glad to leave it to Paul to work out the mathematics involved in that, considering time differences and the consistent confusing information emanating from the UK government.

The flight had been booked  just before infection rates increased to the extent that more and more restrictions were put in place, which culminated in the UK’s third national lockdown. My intention to resume work in schools for the employment agency I work for, as well as to see family and friends would once more have to be put on hold. As the weeks went on, there was every chance the flight would be cancelled, borders would close and Mexico would be added to the ‘red list’ of countries. The prospect of spending any amount of time in a quarantine hotel held no appeal at all and when the cost of it was revealed we decided it would be more economical to cancel the flight and rebook later if necessary. All this uncertainty was extremely frustrating for me; not least because I have a tendency of needing to know ‘what is happening when’ (not an ideal trait to have during a pandemic – I’m working on it 🙄). All I could do was keep up with the foreign travel updates and attempt to adhere to Paul’s suggestion to not worry about it until nearer the time.

The place we were in was ideal for this. We had been in the marina at La Paz since the beginning of December, and without regular access to local news, politics and television updates on the pandemic, it was easy to settle in to simply enjoying daily life in the charming capital of Baja California. We were obviously aware of, and heeded, the common sense precautions for avoiding risks, while still safely socialising with our friends, Arturo, and Dirk and Silvia. The weather was just perfect. The searing heat of summer had been replaced by temperatures that allowed for walking and cycling without collapsing in a pool of sweat.

The days were leisurely and relaxing, so I had no cause for complaint. Not until I had the test, anyway! From various sources, I knew it was likely to be uncomfortable but I hadn’t expected pain. The procedure was explained to me by the two female nurses in the tiny Salud Digna testing centre. The language barrier meant that we had to communicate via writing, a translator app and hand signals. When they were ready for me, I adopted my usual stance when undergoing intrusive medical tests – closing my eyes until it was all over. It was the nose swab that caused me to yell out. I thought it was going to give me a pierced nostril! With my eyes still tightly shut in a grimace of pain, they had to tell me it was finished and I could leave. Outside, I had to wait until my eyes stopped watering and the burning sensation in my throat cleared before we could cycle home. Maybe I was just unlucky or it could be that I’m a bit of a baby about things like this. My dad was fond of repeating the story of how I had frightened all the other children in the waiting room once with my yells and sobbing while in the dentist’s chair when I was 10.

Gradually we collected and completed all the forms and I had the necessary sheaf of documents, my bags packed, and a list of provisions for a 10 day quarantine period, ready for my daughter, Tess to deliver to my flat. Two self-testing kits for COVID-19 had been ordered for delivery at my address. No cancellations, and I was ready to go. I had mixed emotions on the day of departure. Although I have a return flight booked for September, it’s still not certain when we will be able to resume our nautical travels, or when Paul will be able to return to the UK. I knew I was going to miss him terribly (as well as our boat birds, Maria and Carlos). On the other hand, I still hoped to be able to earn some money and see much-missed family and friends once lockdown ends.

The journey itself was also causing some anxiety. The first part was easy. Paul had hired a car for the drive to La Paz’s airport, avoiding the risk of taxi delays or infection.  Once inside, we discovered that we had omitted to fill out the health questionnaire, required when departing from Mexican cities. We weren’t the only ones, judging from the amount of people we saw holding their phones up to capture the QR code to fill it out. Paul (again) took that task on while I queued at check in with my bag. Then it was time to say farewell, and I just about managed to hold my tears in until he was out of sight as I made my way through to security. Once on the plane, which was almost full, it was good to see that everybody had a mask on. I had an aisle seat and the couple next to me spent the entire hour and fifty minutes looking out of the window, thus creating a natural social distance for much of the journey. They disembarked us row by row and once I had collected my bag, I found myself in the enormous arrivals hall. It was a lot busier in there, and I kept getting jostled and bumped while I stood looking up at the vast array of signs, trying to work out where to go next. I couldn’t remember if I had to go to immigration then, or after checking in. The flight to Heathrow wasn’t displayed yet as it was still some hours away from departure time and no information desks were open. I messaged Paul, but in the half hour before he replied I had managed to find my way to the BA desks, which were totally deserted, and had taken refuge in a bar near to them until they opened.

By the time I went to check in there was a small queue at each of the two desks for the Heathrow flight. It looked as if Paul’s prediction that there probably wouldn’t be many people on the plane might prove correct. At the desk, I was finally asked to present my sheaf of papers for inspection, along with my immigration card and passport. I was pleased that they were all looked at after so much effort to get them. It’s always a relief to deposit the hold bag and I now had a few hours to kill before the 9pm flight. After clearing security I spent those few hours browsing the shops and then reading in a bar near to the gate. Not many people were in the queue for boarding, confirming that it wouldn’t be a full flight. As we entered the plane and I showed my boarding card I was greeted by name and given a hand sanitising kit by smiling cabin crew, and I hadn’t been seated for long before someone came to check that I had booked a vegan meal. Next, came an offer of a glass of prosecco (with top ups when empty) – and this was all before takeoff!  I had a whole row to myself and could have chosen to move to any number of empty rows. Along with the usual airline tannoy announcements, there were several COVID-related ones. The main and oft-repeated one was that masks were to be worn at all times, covering both mouth and nose except when eating or drinking, with no exceptions. Despite this, the lady in the row ahead of me by the window kept pulling hers down and was repeatedly told to put it back on until she got the idea. We were also reminded about the strict rules regarding passenger locator forms and proof of a negative covid test at the UK border.

It was relaxation for all of the 10 hours after that. I had wine, a delicious meal of rice with roasted vegetables and a savoury sauce and then stretched out to sleep. In the ‘morning’ I asked for a coffee and looked at the flight map on the screen, amazed to see what I recognised as the west coast of Ireland.  After breakfast and more coffee,  preparations for landing commenced and we were informed that the weather in London was ‘dull’ or ‘dreary’ – something like that. At least it wasn’t freezing or snowing. It felt fairly mild in fact for the short time we were outside before entering the arrivals building at lunchtime on the 16th February. From previous journeys I knew I had to follow the purple route for flight connections at Terminal 5. As we all made our way through the corridors it was a lot emptier than I expected, even for ‘these times’. Not empty of signs though – they were everywhere! Most of them held warnings  and information about prohibited actions, penalties for disregarding regulations, new quarantine rules and so on. Frequent announcements about passenger locator forms were played, and ‘requests’ to keep a mask on at all times.  At one point we passed a solitary man holding a sign much like a lollipop man or tour guide bearing the handwritten words ‘passengers from red list countries this way’. No one went that way.

As people began dispersing towards various other gates and onward destinations, a few of us were left following the flight connections route towards A and B gates. By the time we reached the train terminal for transporting passengers to gates, there were only about a dozen people in front of me. They stopped and looked at a sign and then strode on.  The sign had arrows pointing to the train on the left for A gates, as well as straight on. A tannoy announcement made me jump, stating that passengers should board the train to get to gate B and remain on it for gate A, leaving me undecided about what to do. After a couple of moments the trains remained stationary and nobody was inside them, so I decided to follow the the route the other people had taken. They had all disappeared by this time and a long and empty corridor stretched before me. For five minutes I didn’t see another soul as I trudged along and it felt really eerie. Finally a member of staff came out of a lift and I almost pounced on him to reassure me I was going the right way for A gates, poor guy! I must have missed something about why the other passengers had shunned  the trains.

When I reached the passport and immigration area, that too was deserted. I could only see tall Perspex screens at the front of the row of desks but no one was seated at them. A Tensa queue barrier was in place but with no people there it was tricky to find the way in. In the distance to my right, I caught sight of an arm coming from one of the kiosks there, indicating for me to go to the end desk. There, I saw a man  – his head was bent down so I waited politely on the line until he would call me. After some moments I shuffled and coughed to make sure he knew I was there and he eventually beckoned me over. Tiredness and confusion was making me feel a bit irritable, and the thick Perspex screen, along with both of us wearing masks made it hard for me to hear what he was saying to me – and he had a surly manner – so I just pushed all my documents under the screen for him to inspect. Finally, he signalled for me to pull my mask down to check my passport, got me to confirm I had arrived from Mexico and waved me on. More Tensa barriers to navigate made it feel like I was hemmed in when I tried to move forward and the lady who had signalled to me earlier helped me find the way through. She showed me where to scan the passport and told me the way to security. It was something of a relief to be among people again (not something I feel very often 😉). Now it was time to prepare for flight number three, to Manchester.

The departure time had changed from 2 30 to 3pm but it hardly mattered since I was in no rush. From memory, the A gate area was normally a bustling hub of activity with shops, bars and cafes filled with travellers. Some food outlets were open but the shops were all closed apart from Boots and the Duty Free one. I didn’t have long to wait or far to go once my gate number was announced and was pleased to just flop into a seat and wait to board. I was immediately joined by a member of BA’s staff who asked me if I would mind answering a few questions for a passenger survey. I didn’t have the heart to refuse as I was the only one there at the time. The ‘few’ questions took at least 5 minutes, which is a long time to pay attention when you’re  tired and frazzled, –  I could barely focus on the answers!  As we queued to board, it began to rain and once seated we were told that the weather in Manchester was showery and chilly. I pulled an extra layer out of my carryon bag in readiness. The flight was only 35 minutes long, and was more than half full so I was surprised to hear them state that the in-flight service would be commencing shortly. This turned out to be a bottle of water and a bag of crisps. While they weren’t exactly chucked at us, you can imagine how swiftly they were delivered.

The late afternoon air of Manchester was the coldest I had felt for months – and it was raining harder there. Procedure at arrivals was a smoother affair, though and once I had collected my bag, I just had to walk to the station to get the 5 o’clock train to Liverpool. The first thing I noticed outside was that fewer people were wearing masks. It seemed strange to me after 5 months in Mexico where it is compulsory. It seems that if you are given a choice people will make up their own mind despite the risks. At the station, I was paying for my ticket when the cashier alarmed me by shouting at someone to ‘stay away’, ‘stay away’, ‘social distance’. I looked round and saw that a guy was standing right behind me instead of on the 2-metre line. He probably won’t make that mistake again!

On the train, it was a similar story with the masks: not everyone was wearing one. Signs on board state that masks must be worn by all passengers, unless they are ‘exempt’. I gather that you can buy badges and lanyards in shops stating that the wearer is exempt, so if people don’t want to wear them they just won’t.

A short, 10 minute walk from the station and I was home in my flat. It hadn’t exactly been a dramatic journey but it was definitely different. I have taken my first test and the next one is due on Tuesday (23rd Feb). Hopefully it will be negative like the first one. I have also received a telephone call from a government official to make sure I am at home and adhering to quarantine regulations. My self-isolation ends on 26th February so at least I can take daily walks and go shopping then. The view outside is quite a contrast from the sunny one in Marina La Paz. I can see Lidl’s car park in the drizzly rain and the only birds I spot now are the huge seagulls who like to perch on the lampposts. Paul has been keeping me up to date on marina life on our daily chats (videos and pics of our birds are always welcome). I do miss it all and I know I will be back there at some point. Hopefully it won’t be long until I can travel to see family and enjoy drinks in a pub with friends. In the meantime, lockdown life consists of reading, watching dramas and documentaries on Netflix and listening to the radio – not such bad ways of spending time really.

Kathy

She hasn’t as of yet, but by the time I finish and publish this blog she will be on a flight to London praying that in those 12 hours of flight, Mexico is not added to the red list of countries that will require her to be put in kennels for a couple of weeks quarantine. Of course we don’t want Mexico to be on the red list, but it seems crazy to ban the countries that have already sent the worrying viruses to the UK where it is established and spreading, and to let people bring in the new as yet undiscovered variants from countries we didn’t even know had the new variants. I think if you want to stop new variants getting into the uk, then quarantine everyone arriving. I won’t be surprised if the killer strain from worrystan ends up defeating the AZ vaccine and we end up having to start all over again. Hope not 🙂

We continue to dine out on sundays with Arturo. We used to cook a meal for him on board, but with the current high levels of the virus here, and the fact Arturo works with visitors from the USA and Mexico city, we only meet up outdoors , keep a distance and dine in outdoor restaurants now.

Dirk and Silvia are another couple who take the situation very seriously, we meet up with them every week or so for a coffee. Below you can see us on a rooftop bar with a great view out across the bay.

Arturo and I do a walking Spanish lesson once or twice a week, when he is not working we walk around town, often with a chandlers or bakery as the target destination. As we walk, Arturo tests me on my Spanish, I must say, I’m pretty good now on Pavement, Lamppost and Car. (Banqueta, Poste de luz y Carro).

After a very hot walk, we might stop for a Raspado, Arturo likes to have Chile on his Mango, not quite sure how that works.

On a bike ride with Kathy we stopped to photograph a pandemonium of parrots, finally had an excuse to use that collective noun.

We also saw a volt of vultures, obviously I had to look these up.

Last saturday, an announcement went out for a travelling musical family, who were struggling for funds, as their usual restaurant audiences had dried up. They offered to perform at the local basketball court for anyone who was interested at sunset. We went along not sure what to expect and were pleased to see dozens of fellow cruisers who had turned up. quite a crowd, initially well separated and all masked up, that changed a little as time went one and more arrived and mingled. We sat away in the corner.
They hadn’t expected anyone to turn up and had gone off to the other side of town, leaving one of the family looking after their trailer, who had to quickly try and get them all back as we amassed. A little later and they started performing.

The musicians are one family, Father/Mother, 2 sons and three daughters. They all live in one car with a trailer for all of their instruments.

They are incredibly talented, the girls had amazing voices, and the whole family seemed quite overwhelmed with the turnout. One of the cruisers put a cap out in front of the band, and after another cruiser gave one of the cruising kids a few hundred pesos to put in the hat, the cruiser kids started excitedly running around the cruisers collecting money and filling the hat. I’m thinking they made enough money to support themselves for a good while.

A few days ago this giant of a sailboat arrived, she must be 35, maybe 40m long. I was intrigued as to where they kept the anchor as the sleek prow showed no signs of one.

I was in luck as the next day they dropped anchor in the marina, and I saw the anchor rise out of the deck on a huge arm that swung it up in the air then over the bow ready to be lowered. Of course the reason they were doing it in the marinas was because this slightly complicated system was broken. The arm that did the work was sticking. I watched as they went up and down with it, I’m not sure they fixed it as the anchor was left hanging over the bow.

Kathy and I took a trip over to the Mogote again and had a long beach walk, we went right around the island to the development called Paraiso del mar, This is a luxury block of apartments looking out over the sea. It’s a great spot, whale sharks frequent these waters. and you have the area to yourself as it’s not easy to get to by land. I have mentioned before that I heard the development was declared ilegal before it was completed, and recently I have heard they have problems with the water supply.

Yesterday I made Guacamole to have as dinner as we sat in the cockpit watching the sunset. I’ve become quite good at taking a bunch of Cilantro (coriander) and dicing it up into very small pieces. This time the mix didn’t taste as good as normal, and it was upon closer inspection I noticed that I hadn’t completley diced up the elastic band that came with the cilantro, a few little bits were obvious. It all got tipped into the bin. What an idiot.

We also went to a local clinic to get Kathy Covid tested for her trip home. They didn’t speak English, but we muddled through and Kathy had a most un-enjoyable experience getting swabbed for the PCR test.

Kathy spent the weekend packing and fretting over all the paperwork and procedures needed for international travel these days. I organised a car rental for the the airport trip, primarily to avoid having to use a taxi for covid reasons, but secondly, I could do some shopping and exploring later. A few days ago we heard from one of the cruisers here on the radio net that he had Covid and was isolating on his boat. Two days later we heard he had been taken to the hospital, today we heard he had succumbed to the virus. Very sad.

Kathy was most relieved late on Sunday when her test results came through as ‘Negativo’, we also got the last confirmation that her covid test pack was on its way to Liverpool and we had completed the Passenger locator successfully.

So off we went for our Sunday dinner out with Arturo. We were surprised to find the restaurants staying open late, and quite busy, when it dawned on us that it was Valentines day, not something we go mad about normally.

However tonight the local rose seller, who has been trying for the best part of a year to get me to buy Kathy a rose succeeded. I felt sorry for the guy, I thought if he can’t sell me a rose on Valentines day, there’s not a lot of hope for him, or perhaps me!

We had a lovely meal in our favorite Italian restaurant, I especially like the hot bread with dipping oils, it reminds me of our sailing days in Greece.

Monday the 15th Feb
Time for Kathy to start her mammoth trek home. I head of at 9 to collect the hire car, while Kathy does the last bit of flapping, then we are off to the airport. Of course we forget there’s an extra airport health form to fill in on the web when you get there before you can check in, but I manage that just in time and Kathy’s bags are whisked away. I say goodbye, not sure just how many months it will be before we are back together.
I take the car into town, do some shopping at the big Home Depot store then pickup Arturo, we decide to do some exploring of the remoter parts of La Paz.
At the far end of the bay we find some lovely beaches, one with a bit of a shipwreck of a ferro-cement boat. I would love to know the history of this grounding.

After the boat we take a dirt track out to the Magote, it’s a very tough ride for our little car, and not much to see, other than two giant cruise ships anchored off, waiting for a better time.

We leave southern La Paz and head north through the town to a popular beach at tecalote, this place is rammed in the summer, but has strict restrictions these days, but on a cool monday afternoon, we have the place to ourselves, so decide on some food at a beach restaurant. The variety and quality on offer is fantastic, Arturo orders clams, I have Fish Tacos and Guacamole.

Back at the boat, it’s a quiet affair, and the boat seems a tad empty without Kathy. I shall have to get to work and keep myself busy now.

I track Kathy’s flights and wake up sometime in the night to see she has just landed in Heathrow and is taxiing. I get a text later to say she has cleared through and is waiting her flight to Manchester. Later today we chat once she has settled into her flat. Job done.

Paul Collister.

It’s been raining and cold, a warning went out that it could drop below 10 degrees Celsius last week, although it seems funny, and it meant I had to dig out long trousers and a fleece for the first time in a year, the weather warnings are real here as many people live in somewhat well ventilated shacks, i.e. a few sheets of corrugated iron over some breeze blocks, and at night they can be at risk.

Very little is happening here, Lockdown stays at a high level. I finished the real computer work I was doing. I also managed to migrate my mail from Utah to my own mail server running on the Amazon cloud. Finally I can say goodbye to Bluehost.
Last weekend we took the dinghy out to the Magote for a walk along the island. It was a gorgeous day, the wind had dropped and the temperatures risen a lot, so we wanted to make the most of it.

Maria and her mate turn up everyday for their free meals, they seem to like Sister Midnight.

Kathy has two weeks before her flight home. So far it’s going to plan, the fear of her having to stay in a hotel seems to have receded, but this could change. We may head out next week, once the winds subside and have a final week in the islands before her flight.
Once she has gone I will touch up the brightwork on the boat and head east.
I had the hull washed, in fact the diver only did the prop & bow thruster as the hull was so clean, which is great after two months sitting here, so far so good for the new antifoul. He replaced the Zinc anode on the stern which is great.

I finally managed to locate a good supply of beer, this should last a few weeks.

Not sure if this is a heron, but he/she happily wanders around the marina checking the boats out.

I thought I would drop some pictures of the fruit section in Chedraui, just because it’s so colourful and I haven’t got anything better to show you.

Paul Collister

Again there’s not a lot happening, Kathy and I both have children/grandchildren and friends back in the UK recovering from Covid, caught over the Christmas period. Thankfully no one is seriously ill, but it does show how quickly this virus is spreading. La Paz has just moved from level 4 to level 5, out of a possible 6. More restrictions, but nothing too bad. The Malecon is closed 24/7 now and restaurants have more restrictions on table separation.

It’s worrying as more and more people arrive from the states to escape the winter and restrictions up there and travel around here on holiday, of course many Mexicans just can’t afford to stay off work, there’s little in the way of state support here. We are restricting our outings more, and feel quite safe on board. Kathy’s flight back home in 4 weeks is still on, but as of now we are not sure if she will be required to stay in an expensive hotel upon arrival in the UK.

So I am slowly starting to do jobs around the boat, I have got the dinghy covers repaired, and decided to track down the small leak. I find a little gap in the join between the sponson and the deck, and repair it with some extremely expensive glue I buy locally. The fabric is Hypalon, something that is no longer manufactured, but the glue, which I would normally pay £7 for back home costs me £35. Reading the label I find out it’s made in Colwyn Bay, not far from my home in the UK. It’s good to see british manufacturing being exported to Mexico, I wonder how much glue they will need to sell to make up for the cost of Brexit, quite a lot I expect. Anyway, the repair made no difference, so I filled the dinghy with water again and searched for the leak. It appeared to be just passing through the metal bottom of the boat as if by magic, but closer inspection revealed a crack, and sure enough that was the source of the leak. There is an identical crack on the other side as well, but that doesnt leak. I taped over the crack with some gaffa tape and that stopped the leak. It’s not a solution, but it proved the point.

Doing a little research it appears this is not uncommon, and the manufacturer warns that operating the dinghy underinflated can cause these cracks, if the transom, the back of the dinghy moves, it strains the join. I keep the tubes inflated but wondered if perhaps on the passage across the pacific where it had deflated a lot, if I had maybe pushed on the transom for support when working on the foredeck. Disappointing all the same. I found a guy on the internet who had sold his dinghy with exactly the same cracks as he had had it replaced under warranty. My warranty is in year 4 of 5 so I have tried to chase the manufacturer, but as I bought it in Thailand, they are in the USA and they have no rep in Mexico, I’m not hopeful. Repairing it should be possible, but it’s likely to fail again. Hopefully I can get another 4 years out of it, then it will have paid for its keep.

I was made up to find the local cheapo marine supplier had a big stock of Zinc anodes just the right size for me. I bought a couple and the diver will fit one next week when I get the hull cleaned. If it fits as expected, I will buy a few as they have been hard to get round here.

We had a ride up to the ceramics shop Ibarra, where they hand make pottery, crockery, pots, tiles etc etc. I really wish I had a house here that I could fill with these colourful items. The shop is very tranquil, several staff working in the yard, shaping, moulding and painting their work.

So next onto the Gas. We ran out of gas so I thought I would write a little about the gas system for those who don’t know much about boats and gas. If you have a caravan, or trailer as I think they call them over on this continent, then you probably know this stuff, but boats have an added complication, there’s nowhere for the gas to escape to and that makes it dangerous.
We have two bottles of gas on board, they are made of aluminium, and should last forever, or at least longer than me. Most gas bottles people have are made of steel and in a marine setting they corrode very quickly. Mine have to be serviced every so many years, 7 I think, we had ours done in Seattle as they were very out of date, they didn’t mind that so much in Asia, except in Japan, where they refused to go anywhere near a foreigners tanks. I normally get 4-5 months out of a tank, but a little less when Kathy is here and doing lots of cooking. In La Paz we can just drop our tanks off with the car park attendant here on Tuesdays or Fridays in the morning and he returns them filled at lunchtime. One tank costs me around £10-15 which isn’t bad for 3 months cooking.

The tanks live in a sealed locker at the back of the cockpit. There is a drain at the bottom of the locker out to the sea, and an electric shutoff valve which defaults to shut when there is no power. We turn the electric valve on when we cook and off as soon as we finish. We enjoy ribbing each other whenever we forget this.
It’s important as propane and butane gas is heavier than air so settles on the ground. Inside the boat there is no way out so the gas will go under the sole (floorboards) and build up in all the cavities of the bilge. There’s not a lot of ventilation down there and at some point it could explode if a flame or spark came its way.

So the tanks are isolated outside of the cabin with their own drain overboard and the feed into the cabin is only connected when we are cooking. I have replaced all the parts that decay and so I feel confident it’s safe.

Saying that, once the new bottle is back in place, I stuff the locker with all manner of dangerous goods, small gas bottles for the camping stove and DDT fuel additives, in case there is an explosion, it might as well be a good one 😉

Maria has returned, I assume it’s her, given how as soon as she arrived she made her way to my breadboard, knowing that I wouldn’t have put any food out for her yet.
She seems to have a mate who has started arriving with her, he? is more wary of me.

I’m busy working on software for work at the moment, not really enjoying it, but it should be finished soon. Varnish work awaits, and this week has seen the temperatures start to rise, it’s getting pretty warm in the day now and I can see how soon I will be kicking myself for not doing these jobs when it was cooler.

Paul Collister.

Just a quick update, there’s not a lot happening, and won’t until Kathy heads back to the UK in 5 weeks and I head off to sea, probably to the mainland.

It’s been a quiet time for us over the Christmas period. As you can see from above, the big boats that berth on the long outside pontoons have loaded up with beer/food and passengers and shot off, out to the islands I expect.
Our time has been spent tidying up the boat, and shopping for ingredients for the Christmas dinner. Kathy has been hunting for various british bits and bobs that are hard to find here, like chutney and sage & onion stuffing.

We took a walk along the Malecon on Christmas Eve and watched someone enjoying the winds which had built up for the Christmas period.

I took on the job of making some salsa to accompany the main meal. So I bought fresh Guacamole ingredients

Kathy did a wonderful job of producing a full christmas spread + Mexican salsas and Tostadas. We invited Arturo over to join us and experience what we brits do every year. He really liked the cauliflower cheese, which makes me wonder if he really is Mexican. Yuk.
We didn’t have any crackers to pull, as that’s a very British thing. I think some Canadians have them, and also Australia has a version.

And so into the new year. Restrictions are still in place and surprisingly haven’t been extended yet. We are taking extra care now as I’m sure the new strains of the virus will be arriving soon, if not already. We won’t know because very little testing of the public happens in Mexico, unless you are ill. Also there was lots of Christmas partying. I have just read that in California USA, which is the next region going north, and where most people here commute to and from, the virus is at very dangerous level. Ambulances are scarce and have been told not to bring people to the hospital if they are not breathing, i.e. if they can’t be resuscitated in situ, then not to tie up an ambulance bringing them to ER. Also some hospital are rationing oxygen. Let’s hope the vaccine gets out there soon and works as expected.

I have spent this quiet time writing software and building systems. I’m trying to build my own mail server, not something that would have been too challenging for me in the past, but with new security requirements required by mail systems these days, I’m having to learn new skills. I’m enjoying it.

The varnishing will start soon. I got a quote for repairing the dinghy chaps (sponson covers) which was more than I paid for them in Thailand, so I have asked the Thai’s for a price for new ones. In the meantime I might have a go at repairing these myself. I may even buy a sewing machine (second hand) for the boat to help out.

I need to buy a new hammock, the one I have been using can no longer support me, as I found out in the most brutal of ways.

Hopefully I can get over to Mazatlan and Puerto Vallarta in a few months, it will be warmer there and I can checkout the mainland side. I have a picture below, courtesy of google maps which gives an idea of the route I would take.

Paul Collister

I made a long list of tasks that I want to complete over the next few weeks, the first was cleaning the stainless steel rails and fittings on the boat, this took a couple of days, I have decided to split the jobs up, doing the outside boat jobs in the morning and doing any computer related work in the afternoon. I also cleared the pushpit, that’s the rail around the back of the boat, of all the safety gear and anything else that wasn’t needed, to give me a better uncluttered view out. This helps spot the odd dolphin or sea lion that surfaces in the marina. I gave the boat a good clean and pumped up the fenders. Our neighbours left and returned one slip further away from us. I wonder how they knew we were from Liverpool. 😉

Tuesday had me visiting the immigration office to plead for a visa extension on humanitarian grounds, as I had done successfully 6 months ago. They were very nice but were quite adamant I couldn’t have a visa, making me an illegal immigrant. However they said not to worry, once I decide to leave the country, I should pop in and get an exit visa that will allow me to get through the airport. A very laid back, and if I might say, sensible approach to take.

On the paperwork side, I chased the refund from Iberia which was promised 6 months ago, they apologised and said we would hear from them in the next week … still waiting. I booked a flight for Kathy to return home, Mexico direct to Heathrow, so hopefully we don’t have to worry about any EU complications. Also the UK have just struck an amazing new trade deal with Mexico, almost as good as the one we had with the EU, so I expect it will be a special flight for her.

I replaced the gas hose, you can see the nick in the hose in the pic below, Once I could see the damage I realised the hose is armour plated and the cut was superficial, still I’m very happy to have a new one in there. I did manage to inflict some pain upon my neck routing the hose through the back of the boat.

The morning net had the marina office announcing the names of people with mail waiting, they had my birthday card from my kids, 3 months late, but it’s the thought that counts.

The marina is busy with new arrivals, many people who would normally arrive with the cancelled Baja Ha Ha rally from San Diego stayed home, but a hardy bunch travelled here anyway, several with the ad hoc group known as the Baja Na Ha. (In case you didn’t know, Baja rhymes with Haha). We had a nice time chatting with the owners of a Baba 40, Hull number 1. that is berthed just down the way from us. Even though it’s about 8 years younger than our boat, it looks much better, more teak, and well maintained. You can see below people doing maintenance. I know well the feeling of arriving at your destination in a new country after several weeks, or maybe months of travel. There’s a lot of adrenalin and relief and you can hear lots of animated conversations around the berths, one year later and you have a much more relaxed attitude about it.

Arturo introduced me to a local sail repair shop that he has made friends with, they also have just opened a restaurant. They came and removed the chaps (Covers) from our dinghy as the stitching was dissolving in the sun and soon it would be wrecked. I hate the look of the bare plastic left.

Christmas decorations are going up everywhere

Covid is on the up and up, the governor of this state moved us up a tier this week, meaning Jail or a hefty fine for anyone outside of their home without a mask on. Also Gyms are shutting, occupancy in restaurants is restricted. You can see below three armed guards stop people from posing with the La Paz sign. The Malecon is still closed to the public for most of the time.

I have recently learnt the Spanish names of some of the creatures we see around here and had to chuckle when I realised the plant fertilizer we have is literally translated as ‘Bat Shit’. Brilliant.

Other mundane repair jobs continue around the boat.

Another mural that caught my eye this week.

Paul Collister

I couldn’t resist the temptation of using words from John Steinbeck’s work The Log from the Sea of Cortez. It seemed particularly apt because I have been reading it while we’ve been cruising around the places he and the crew of Western Flyer visited some 80 years ago. I referred to it briefly last time, how they documented their findings from tide pools and littorals with detailed descriptions of a plethora of creatures, flora and fauna, along with some deep and – it has to be said – complex, intellectual theories on the philosophy of life. I skipped over those parts, but it was interesting to read his perceptions of places we had been such as La Paz, Puerto Escondido and Loreto, and his observations of life on board a boat. It was slightly disconcerting to learn that many of the creatures they retrieved from the water were poisonous and that he came across lots of snakes, worms and urchins with lethal spikes. I tried not to think about those when Paul was encouraging me to give snorkelling another try! This entry covers our second venture into the Sea of Cortez, the main aim of which was Sister Midnight’s haul out in Marina Puerto Escondido on November 23rd.

It was only a couple of hours to our first anchorage at Ensenada Grande Cove, Isla Partida, which sounds more like a luxury resort than a tiny anchorage spot. It was pretty, calm and sheltered, however when we set the anchor just before sunset, which covered all our needs for a one night stay.

After a peaceful night, we weighed anchor just after 9 the following morning. The day had dawned with a few more clouds and a northerly wind blowing at 20 knots. The calm conditions we’d had in the cove disappeared as soon as we were out on the open sea. We were about to have an extremely rocky passage! The boat immediately took on what I like to term the ‘bucking bronco’ mode as it ploughed into the huge waves coming at us head on. The bow plunged downward into the chasm and was then pushed up high as the wave rose, creating a lurching, up and down pattern which felt like we weren’t moving very far forward at all. It had been a while since I’d experienced that sea state and I hadn’t expected the need to stow things securely. Soon I had to deal with water gushing through the windows and hatches which, although closed, weren’t securely tightened. Not long after, there was an alarming crash from below when the air conditioning unit shot off the starboard bunk onto the floor taking the printer with it. They were hurriedly secured on the port side with the table stabilising them; it appeared that the planned three hour trip would take a lot longer.

Aside from that, Paul was largely unconcerned with the conditions as we sat in the cockpit watching the stern go up and down, changing the appearance of the horizon behind it at an alarming rate.

A couple of hours later when I had retired below to lose myself in a novel, I asked Paul how high he thought the waves were and was shocked by his response of ‘about 15 foot or more’. By then, he had begun to feel a bit seasick as the boat continued to pitch and toss its way through the relentlessly high waves. He stood with his back to the mast for the final hour, a la J.W Turner until the nausea abated. The journey ended up taking us 5 and a half hours, and even as we approached the bay at San Francisco, I found it hard to believe that conditions would improve there. The wind was just as strong and the sea was still bouncing us around, but it was with much relief that we dropped anchor at 3pm in calm, shallow water with the sun shining, and it wasn’t long before the wind became refreshing instead of strong and blustery.

There were a few other boats anchored with the usual assortment of kayaks, jet skis and inflatables but later in the afternoon we were joined by one with an extremely loud generator. The noise it made sounded like roadworks were taking place nearby and it stayed on all night. I’m so pleased we don’t feel the need for one.  

It was truly the calm after the storm the next day. The water was flat and still as far as the eye could see and so clear in the bay we could see hundreds of fish below the surface. It looked as if it could get hot later so we went ashore mid-morning, having decided to stay another day after the previous day’s not so smooth sailing. A deserted crescent-shaped sandy beach, surrounded by hills covered in cacti and the distinctive rose-coloured rock greeted us as we drew closer in the dinghy. Once ashore, Paul led me across the beach to a flat plain which glistened with dried sea salt. We were about to see Isla San Francisco’s salt ponds. These are rectangular, shallow beds in the sandstone which collect the sea’s salt after the water has evaporated over time. The picture shows how the salt clumps around the edges once the sun has dried it. The water has a delicate pink hue, which made me think of the expensive pink Himalayan sea salt I’ve seen on sale, but the salt itself is pure white. It looked like a sunken bath with rose-coloured water, and I found it quite fascinating.

The eastern side of the island was rugged, more like Cornwall’s rocky coast. Waves crashed over the rocks and big red crabs crawled away from us to hide amongst the rocks. Eagles and frigatebirds soared over the hills and there was no one else around. We sat on the rocks for a while just appreciating it all, until the heat forced us to seek relief with a swim in the crystal clear water.

Paul needed to go up the mast later in the afternoon to fix a couple of things. It made me dizzy just looking up to take the picture.

We left Isla San Francisco early the following morning. At 8am I was in the cockpit with a freshly-brewed coffee enjoying the warm breeze on my face; it really is one of the many pleasurable situations when at sea, especially just after sunrise.  We were bound for Bahia El Gato (Bay of The Cat). The name, according to legend, comes from reports that a family of pumas had come down from the mountains and taken up residence in nearby cliff caves. Apparently, a lone male puma was often seen fishing from the cliff ledges. This was over a hundred years ago, but it was easy to picture him on the striking pink cliffs at El Gato. The geology is spectacularly pretty: its sandstone has shades of colour ranging from peach-pink, mango orange, deep red and brown. Over time, wind and waves have sculpted the cliffs into shelves and ledges with patterns and strata caused by erosion, along with swirly striped boulders and smooth gigantic ‘pebble’ formations that we thought resembled a giant’s toes.

We spent an enjoyable hour climbing the rocks and peering into tide pools wondering if Steinbeck and Ricketts had looked into the same ones all those years ago. Walking along the beach, a lone fisherman from a panga came ashore seemingly for the sole purpose of asking if we wanted to buy any fish because when Paul said no, he went back out to sea and we immediately wished he’d bought some. I obviously took lots of pictures on El Gato.

A predicted three hour passage meant we were in no rush to leave for Agua Verde on Wednesday the 18^th.  Both Paul and Arturo had told me to expect beauty there so my expectations were fairly high. As if to confirm it, the views grew ever more picturesque the closer we got. When we entered the bay it was hard to believe there was a village anywhere, let alone the sizeable one Paul described.  I could only make out what looked like a few beach shacks set back from the sand. It was too hot then to go ashore to explore so we waited until after 4 and rowed the short distance in the shallow water.

The village reminded me of some we had been to in Thailand. The houses were single storey basic buildings and it was clear people spent most of the time outside. The shop had basic provisions – we had to hail for service from the adjacent house, which happened to have a very cute puppy. It came bounding over to me, and commanded most of my attention while Paul was inside the shop.

We walked around the edge of town as the late afternoon sun began to go down. I spotted huge black birds perched on the tops of the trees which I thought might be buzzards but apparently they are turkey vultures. There’s a line of them on the hilltop in pic below.

It was nice to see a group of children playing an old fashioned game of hide and seek among the trees and further on we passed a pig tied to a tree, and goats, chickens and horses roaming free. There was more to see but as we planned to stay a few days we headed back to the boat to watch the sunset from the cockpit. With the sun gone and no moon, the night was beautifully dark. Only a few twinkling lights came from the shore and later to my delight, some glorious phosphorescence shining under the water’s surface all around the boat.

Over the next few days we made the most of everything Agua Verde had to offer. It was hot and sunny each of the five days we were there so this involved a fair bit of swimming and snorkelling. I was slowly building up to overcoming my aversion to snorkelling but initially I enjoyed cooling dips in the clear, still, warm and shallow water (ideal conditions for me). Looking from the dinghy I could see fish clearly but I knew I was missing out on seeing the ones that are deeper. I also enjoyed ambling along the shore while Paul snorkelled the area. A large white house situated on the isthmus (or puertito in Spanish) fascinated me because I couldn’t work out if it was a seasonal dwelling or someone’s permanent home. I waved to the man who was always sitting outside in a chair every time I walked there.

We had to move the boat after two nights anchored near the main beach because the infamous Agua Verde swell made it too uncomfortable to sleep. Our new position was nearer to the isthmus and was more picturesque as well as sheltered and calmer. One afternoon I had a long swim from one beach to another – the longest I had been in the water for years and felt my confidence in the water growing. Later that day however, wimp that I am I had to face another fear: the surf. Landing a dinghy when the waves are rough can be alarming. You have to time it exactly right in order to get ashore without landing on your back in the water flailing around in an undignified way. In some instances the dinghy can overturn, although Paul insists I’m overreacting. Nevertheless I have developed something of a phobia about it ever since a particularly rough landing in America. I could see and hear waves crashing on the shore, and wondered if it would be less traumatising to swim ashore! Paul took us to the calmest part, though and I managed to scramble out unsoaked.

One day we went in search of the farm that Paul had bought goats’ cheese from last time he was here. When he described the route we needed to take, it went something like ‘take the rocky path until you come to the first mountain, carry on to the bigger, second mountain and when you reach the dried river bed, turn left at the top, follow the dirt trail…’, I couldn’t resist asking him if there was a rickety rackety bridge to look out for. 

We arrived there after a thirty minute walk that did indeed match those directions. The farm was in one of the most remote places I have seen – a few ramshackle buildings on a sloping hill and a distinct lack of goats. People were seated at a table outside and I heard a little girl shout ‘Mama, gringos!’ I have learned since I’ve been here that gringos is a word used to describe Americans, so we don’t actually come under that term but it’s an easy mistake to make I guess. Paul used his Spanish to enquire if they had any goats’ cheese for sale. They didn’t, and we worked out they were suggesting we try the village shop, but they had none either. It was a nice walk anyway, and Paul got to practise his Spanish.

Agua Verde is ideal for snorkelling. Paul enthused about the things he’d seen so many times that I felt it was time to leave my hang-ups behind and literally plunge in. Late one morning, fully equipped with masks and a snorkel and mouthpiece I felt comfortable with, we took the dinghy to a shingly beach on the opposite side of the bay.  All went well, I held on to Paul all the way and he pointed out the colourful fish, starfish and coral. I didn’t even mind the spiky sea urchins on the sea bed which were much larger than any I had seen before. Then I spotted a sea snake, looking for all the world like a fat, brightly-patterned colourful stuffed caterpillar – and that freaked me out. I learned then that it’s actually possible to scream with your head underwater while wearing a mask and snorkel! Paul quickly pulled me away to another area and the rest of the session was marvellous enough for me to do it again the following day, our last day there. Walking the shores we visit in the dinghy and beach combing is an activity that I particularly love. There are so many beautiful shells of all colours, shapes and sizes, along with intricately formed coral and it’s always fun to watch the shy little sand crabs burrowing out of harm’s way at our approach. Again, it was great to note that the beaches were clear of plastic and rubbish.

The haul out was booked for 1 o’clock on Monday 23^rd November. We left Aqua Verde before 8 and wasted no time putting the sail up to make the most of the wind. That was great, but when we switched the engine back on a bit later, the autohelm wouldn’t work. All Paul’s usual fixes didn’t work so we had no choice but to hand steer for the rest of the way. This we did in 30 minute stints each, and it was easy enough because the route was straightforward and the weather was pleasant. By the time we got to the boatyard at Puerto Escondido it was very hot and Paul had to struggle a bit to reverse into the area where the lift was waiting, not having expected the need to reverse. A man in a dinghy kindly helped persuade it in and we had to climb a wall to get off while it was lifted out of the water.

Once Sister Midnight was transported over to ‘the hard’ we took ourselves off to look around the facilities and then up to the marina bar while they made it ready for us to get back on board. There we enjoyed a drink and some guacamole and nachos overlooking the bay. The pic below shows how we entered and exited the boat for the week she was on the hard. The toilets were just around the corner but I made a point of limiting my liquid intake during the evenings. That ladder was steep!   

The marina had everything we needed. We ate in the restaurant a couple of times, used the laundry, shopped in the well-stocked, though expensive, shop and sat at the tables outside the shop using the Wi-Fi or reading while the men were working on the hull with noisy sanders and grinders. John Steinbeck had come to Puerto Escondido in 1940 and I wondered what it had looked like then. His description obviously bore no relation to all the modern conveniences around me but his account of the very shallow narrow entrance rang a bell with me, and the bright green mangroves he referred to are still there. Pic below of my vegan ‘buffalo wings’ which were battered cauliflower florets in a delicious sauce.

We were reunited with a couple of guys we met in Agua Verde, and one day I met Gerry’s sailing companion; Boomer the Bengal cat. He’s been travelling with Gerry on his boat for the last three years, is perfectly at ease on board and obeys commands in the manner of a dog (he even gets taken for a walk on a lead). He was very friendly too.

We had a fabulous day out in nearby Loreto when Paul hired a car on Friday 27^th. The temperature had been gradually dropping since we’d arrived and when we arrived at the pretty seaside town, it was like a typical blustery bright autumn day on the UK coast. The sea was choppy and people were battling against the strong wind on the prom. We joined them and walked to the breakwater to see the sea lion construction and sat a while watching the birds diving into the breaking waves for fish.

After browsing the shops and the town square, we found a great place to have lunch in a shaded flowery area of the plaza and then visited a couple of supermarkets to make the most of having a car to transport heavy items back. I didn’t look forward to carrying them up the ladder to the boat though.

Loreto lost its status as Baja’s capital when a destructive hurricane in 1829 forced the government to move the state’s capital to La Paz. Its other claim to fame is that it was the first place in the Californias to establish a mission. There is a lovely old church (Mission of Our Lady of Loreto) to mark the occasion in the centre of town proudly bearing the date of that historic mission (1697). We were headed for the second oldest mission, however which proved to be the highlight of our time away from La Paz (for me anyway).

San Javier village is a small community about an hour and a half away from Loreto and to get there we had to drive up a mountain in the beautiful Sierra de la Giganta range for most of that time. It was simply stunning.  Every time we rounded a corner on the climb, the view was another awe-inspiring one. It was all the more exquisite for there being no other vehicles on the road for much of the way. The landscape was arid desert land, cactus-strewn and littered with rocks. In some parts, sections of the road had tumbled down the steep cliffs, narrowing it considerably. Paul, who had visited it in the summer told me that a car had been visible at the bottom of one of the valleys due to the crumbling roads. I was glad I wasn’t driving! The higher we got, the more remote it became. Dried river beds and spindly, small trees and bare bushes were a sign of long periods of drought and I was finding it hard to believe there would be any village at the end of the drive, never mind one with a population of 200. When we got there I was surprised to find it a lot larger than I expected. Even though only one primary street runs through the village we passed signs for the school, cathedral, police station, places of interest and a car park. Several cars were parked and I wondered how we hadn’t seen any traffic apart from one motor bike on our way up. The street was lined with a couple of small shops, a restaurant and cafes and a few houses.

Before visiting the cathedral, which looked beautiful in the fading light, we walked the small distance to see the spring that supplies water to the village and to look at what purports to be the oldest olive tree in the Americas.

Noticing the entrance to the cathedral was open (it was closed on Paul’s previous visit) we went inside to be confronted with a well-maintained and very compact interior. A man approached us to offer his services as a guide (whether we wanted him or not as it turned out). He told us a little about the paintings on the ceiling and the dates of various things in his best English and then held his hand out for a tip. We felt obliged to leave then, so it was a fairly quick visit and I forgot to take any pics. I found the exterior to be more gorgeous anyway.

Back in the street we had a look at the shop where there was a display of locally made honey and wines and other crafts. I couldn’t resist the offer of a taste of the red wine and as it was pricey but genuinely delicious, bought a bottle for a Christmas treat. We didn’t fancy driving back down the mountain in the dark, not least because it would be a shame to miss the views. We stopped a few times to take in the expansive views before us. The pictures probably don’t do them justice. I kept marvelling at the fact that Jesuit pilgrims had climbed this mountain to reach the cathedral in blistering heat on a makeshift dirt trail. Their journey must have seemed endless.

We had a few more days to wait until the work was completed on Sister Midnight and then we would be making our return journey to La Paz, taking in more of what the Sea of Cortez has to offer on the way.

Kathy

Tuesday 1st December

Rabbits
Up early, at least earlier than the bloody painters who haven’t finished the hull yet and we launch in a few hours. The plan is to lift the boat high in the slings so they can get under the keel, clean it properly then paint it. Eventually a whole gang arrive and start the work. The travel lift is busy preparing for a sailboat called Aventura which is being hauled out at ten. Everything goes to plan and we are launched just after 12. The whole thing is an ordeal for Kathy as she has a tooth hanging out which is giving her a lot of pain. As soon as we arrive back in La Paz it’s off to the dentist for her, or maybe some string tied to the door handle if things get too bad beforehand. 

Once launched we reverse into the fuel dock, and I’m very pleased to see the Bow Thruster works very well, the LED dims a little, so I’m wondering if it used to, or there might still be a problem. I will do some more tests at a later date. 
The boat is flying along with the new paint and shiny prop. We were doing 6.5 knots with a moderate amount of power, 2000RPM, so it’s much better. I’m very happy to be afloat again, and we have tidied everything up and are enjoying having running water again.We fuel up, get water, wash the boat down quickly and head out to sea.
It’s a bit bouncy out there, but I have spotted a small cove, called honeymoon cove, just 40 minutes from the marina, on Danzante Island. One review says “it can be a bit tight getting in,  but that’s appropriate for a honeymoon”. As it turns out, we are the only ones there. Our first attempt at dropping the anchor finds a stony/rocky bottom and it won’t grip. So we re-anchor in a different spot and the same problem. I let the boat drift back away from the shore, letting out more chain hoping at some point we will find sand, and in the end we dig in, but not very well. Then the boat turns and backs up to the beach, I’m not 100% happy with the situation, but as the wind is expected to drop a lot and there are no waves at all here I think we will survive. All the same I set a tight anchor alarm on the iPhone. 

Wednesday 2nd
One other boat joined the cove and anchored in a narrow section between two cliff faces. An older double ender boat like ours, but full of youthful exuberance. Loud Abba/rap for a while, then a lot of shouting at the cliffs, I’m not sure if they had ever heard an echo before, but we all have now.
We moved around a lot as the sun set, the wind swinging in every direction, eventually we ended up very close to the beach with the tide dropping, at one point we only had half a metre of water under the stern. With the very rocky bottom it was quite a worry. However the tide was soon rising and the wind pushed us a little further away, so I slept reasonably well, checking the depth and location every few hours.

Come dawn, the mountains were lit up spectacularly, and the waters were splashing like crazy with all the sea life. We left around 8am to make the most of the morning calm and headed north into the predicted strong winds for the deserted salt ponds town of Salinas. The boat performed really well, into a headwind of 15 knots and oncoming waves, we easily pushed along at over 6 knots without pushing the engine hard at all. We anchored in 4 metres of water off the beach, the anchor dug in first time and dug in deep, we gave it maximum revs in reverse and she didn’t budge. This means I get to sleep long and deep tonight. Later we went ashore to tour the ghost town and gather some salt from the old abandoned ponds. Kathy was quite amazed by it all. We joked about making Christmas cards with the scenery, it just looks like frozen lakes covered in snow.

Thursday 3rd
The wind built through the night, but I got a great sleep nonetheless, during the day the wind climbed to 25 knots but because we were anchored in a bay facing north, the waves were quite low, the boat seesawed around a fair bit and we stayed indoors doing odd jobs. I did some programming, without the internet you realise just how good books were, I mean programming books, I wanted to check the name of the tick box you see on web forms, I wanted to know the name of the element/attribute that is set when the tick appears, I guessed at Value, Selected, state, tick, etc etc, without the internet or books I was stuck, I ended up searching through some javascript code from a saved website and found it was called checked!  Kathy cleaned out all the cupboards in the galley and washed them with a mixture of water & Borax, hopefully this will strike a blow at the cockroaches that visit us each evening to see what dinner leftovers there might be. I lifted the stove out of its bay so we could clean around there and I checked the gas hose that supplies it, I couldn’t believe that it had been chafing on the steel plated bulkhead and had a groove in the sheath. I made a temporary repair and have made this the number one repair job to do when we get back to La Paz. I had meant to replace the pipe in Canada or the USA but couldn’t find anyone who could supply the pipe with fittings. I think this might be easy here.
I was up several times in the night, the wind was wild but eventually calmed a bit by morning.

Friday 4th
Up early to see if the weather has calmed enough to leave. We had seen 35 knots of wind yesterday, but we were now around 20, and although it looked and sounded bad out there, I felt it would be no problem, especially as we were heading downwind. The Raspberry PI computer had been logging the wind all night and a quick import to excel showed the wind was definitely on a downhill trajectory.

Kathy was keen to press on, so we took off, the first problem being the anchor chain was stretched taut by the force of the wind on the boat, so Kathy had to abandon her prone position in the V berth flaking chain, to drive the boat forward to where I was pointing from the bow. Every ten metres that came in had me running down to the anchor locker to knock the chain pyramid over. If I didn’t do this, the bigger pyramid would fall over on itself and trap the chain, making it impossible to anchor later on. As soon as the anchor broke free, the boat swung around in the wind and was away. I had the Genoa up and the engine off in minutes and we took off on one of the best sails I have had in a long time. It was a broad reach with waves and some surf pushing us along generally around 7 knots, at one point the GPS recorded 10 knots. We seemed to have the sea to ourselves and with bright blue skies, I lay back in the cockpit and let the autohelm do the work.

6 hours later the wind had dropped a lot, and I let out the last third of the sail as we glided into Agua Verde bay. Soon the hook was down in 9m of clear water and we broke out the drinks to celebrate a fast passage. 

Saturday 5th
We decided to enjoy having a lie in, then a lazy day in Agua Verde. After a leisurely breakfast we checked out the surf on the beach and decided it was a bit much for Kathy in the dinghy so we opted to go ashore in the protected little cove we were anchored in and take the dirt track to the village. It’s only about a mile, but up and down winding mountain trails. I’m glad we did, the trail took us inland behind a big hill overlooking the bay and we discovered amazing views both of the bay from high above and also of the mountains and plains inland.
At the village we stocked up on Bimbo bread and 5 hours of internet vouchers. Back at the boat we caught up with the news, downloaded the latest weather forecasts and generally continued to be lazy. 

Sunday,
I’m up at 7 and looking at the weather it seems like a good time to get off, I think Kathy might have preferred a lie in and a lazy breakfast, as we often do on Sundays, but today we have strong Northerlies forecast followed by several calm days and I figure we can do 50 miles to Evaristo in 8 hours in we average more than 6 knots, which should be doable in the predicted wind of 15-25 knots. So on with the kettle, and I start stowing while Kathy is still fast asleep. 
By half seven we are motoring out of the tranquil bay at Agua Verde into big seas and strong winds, The waves are high and for the first hour, on the side of the boat, making it rather Rolly. I quickly have the Genoa headsail up and the motor off. As we turn away from the wind and start our 7 hour downhill run we are hitting speeds of 9 knots as we rush off the big waves hitting us from behind. An hour later the wind shifts so that it is right behind us, I’m glad I didn’t put up the mainsail, we have enough sq ft up there and the main would just be more work. However the big waves has us corkscrewing a lot and the sail collapses frequently, then fills with a loud crack. It’s an old sail and I’m not looking forward to it ripping so I shove the engine on, furl the sail and get the spinnaker pole out. Soon we are flying along again and the Genoa stays filled for the next 7 hours. It’s brilliant sailing, I sit on the foredeck, as that’s the only place getting any sun. One of the problems of sailing south like this is that the sun is dead ahead and hidden by the sail, the solar panels aren’t happy at all.

After a few hours I check that all the lines are good, not chafing, the rig is under a lot of force, big waves lift all 19 tons of us up and throw us down, while the wind exerts a massive force on the Genoa sheets, which are very taut. I notice that somehow I have got the uphaul for the spinnaker pole wrapped around the radar unit on the mast, I’m amazed it hasn’t ripped it off yet. It’s also going through a shroud it shouldn’t, what a mess, I slacken it off and let the sail control how far down it can go, in the end it works out fine. Kathy sits in the cockpit for the last hour of the journey and is shocked when the spinnaker winch starts screaming as it spins quickly, I jump over and grab the fishing reel, I use the winch to tell me when the line is running out. It’s a big one, and after a bit of a struggle I get it on board, it’s a 4kg Dorado. Enough for 5 big meals. It’s the largest fish I have ever caught and I feel quite bad about killing it.  As I expect today is the last sailing day of the year, so will this be my last catch of the year.

We turn into San Evaristo around 2:30 pm, and I try to furl the Genoa, but unfortunately it’s blowing too strong and the sail furls too tightly and I can’t get it all furled. I need a better way to get this big sail in when it’s blowing hard. We drop anchor in a very protected cove on the north side of the bay and Kathy pours a drink, I have a beer before getting down to some serious filleting.

Monday
We leave Everisto and head for Isla Partida, but on the way we take a small detour to check out the Sea Lions at Isla Islota, a couple of big rocks north of Partida. They don’t disappoint, there’s plenty of them, making lots of noise, and quite a smell. Later we anchor in a lovely cove at Ensenada El Cardonal, there’s only one other sailboat there and we have a peaceful night, the wind now having dropped right down.

Tuesday
Leaving Partida, we glide down past Esperitu Santo, the wind picks up a little and I unfurl the Genoa again, The sails fills nicely and we are off at 3.5 knots in a very flat sea, we sail all the way to the anchorage at La Paz, negotiating the channel around the end of the sandbank that extends almost all the way to the oil terminal. We drop the hook just outside Marina De La Paz and I phone up and I’m lucky enough to get a berth in there from tomorrow.

Wednesday
A 5 minute motor into Marina La Paz and within a few hours the boat is hosed down, plugged in, hooked up to the internet and lots of $$$ handed over to the marina. We are back to being a static caravan for the next few months. I’m quite motivated to do lots of work on the boat, and also do some interesting Software dev.
We are here now until we work out what’s going on with the Vaccine, Brexit and other stuff. Kathy plans to fly home in Feb, I may join her, but only if I’m free to travel and visit family and friends, also we don’t know if we will be allowed to travel via European airports yet. It was announced today that Brits may only be allowed into other European countries for special reasons, because as a ‘third country’ with a High covid Level, we may be banned. Also we may be required to have vaccinations before we can board flights, and we may not be able to get them here before Feb. So many variables, we will have to wait and see.

Paul Collister.