I motored into La Paz and dropped the hook close to Marina Cortez, which is where I last sailed from when Tim & Asta arrived.
I was able to dinghy in to Marina de la Paz and pick up my mail that had only just arrived there, despite being posted 4 weeks ago and arriving in Mexico 3 days after leaving Liverpool.
While I was at the marina office I bumped into the manager outside, asking what the state of play was regarding slip availability in his marina. He informed me that he had slips but was only offering them on a minimum of 3 months rent. I said I may well be interested. The marina is relatively safe, I don’t know how well it would do in a direct hurricane strike, but it’s probably the best option available around here, plus there is good security and a strong community of Americans and Canadian liveaboards (often known as die-aboards) there to keep an eye on things.
Everything is closed and gloves and face masks are mandatory in the marina, and now also out on the streets.
I retrieved my bike which had been chained to the railings for the last few weeks and headed off to the supermarket.
The roads were quieter and the supermarket wasn’t busy and fully stocked.
Back at the marina dinghy dock, I loaded up Kathy’s bike and headed back to the boat. I thought I would leave my bike in the marina as I would probably do one last shop before I head off to the north to hide away.
The thought of where to leave the boat for the hurricane season, or where to leave it should I have to return home sooner was my number one worry.
One of the reasons people don’t like to anchor here is because it’s crowded and very busy with tourist boats and pangas racing through the moorings at all hours. However as I sat in the cockpit devouring a lovely tuna salad freshly made, I realised it was very peaceful here. The sun was setting over the El Magote sand peninsula, all the tourist boats have long stopped, even the fishermen seem to have disappeared.
This might be the quietest it has ever been since the days when Steinbeck visited on the Western Flyer in 1940.
The desire to go home to see Kathy and my kids is quite strong, however the lockdown in the UK means I couldn’t see them easily anyway. I would have to self isolate from Kathy, given that I might have to traverse 4 airports and maybe a few train stations to get back to Liverpool, I risk bringing the virus back to the UK.
Every day the Mexican authorities, locally and at a federal level are closing things down. The latest is the closure of the breweries. This has sent several dieaboards into a tailspin judging by the comments on the local VHF radio chat freq CH22. I don’t drink, and feel very strongly that drinkers should not be allowed to buy my alcohol free beer (Cerveza sin Alcohol) unless they are truly giving up the demon.
When faced with so many variables and unknowns it’s hard to make good choices. I like to whittle things down to what I do know for certain and also to try and get priorities sorted. My main worry is that the marina berths will sell out before I decide where to go. Without anywhere to keep the boat I would be forced to stay here and sail around until the pandemic and hurricane season is over (November for the wind, who knows for Covid), that’s not a great option, but might be fun. I have an option here that solves many issues if I need to go home, so upon reflection I decided to take the marina up on their offer of a slip for 3 months. This is not cheap, but when I put the cost I will pay here, against the cost of any other place the difference isn’t massive, and compared with how much money my investments (Pension fund) have lost, it’s miniscule. So I now have a place here for 3 months.
My next problem is that once I go into the marina I am expected to stay until the crisis is over. No day trips out, or jaunts around the islands. The boat is my home, and I am supposed to stay in it and not travel anywhere. The marina seem clear on this and I don’t want to go against the flow. I think it’s important that as visitors from a richer country we don’t appear to the locals, who will be suffering terribly from this, to be carrying on with our rich hobby on our luxury yachts without a care for anyone else.
My concern is that within the marina, the expat community are a tightly knit bunch, with a few virus sceptics amongst them, I think some are just ignorant of how easy this virus can be spread, and they are all mingling together, meeting for dinner in each others cockpits, sharing beers at sundown, using the communal showers etc. I really fear for them, many are elderly and this sometimes feels more like a retirement home than a marina, once the virus gets a grip, if it hasn’t already, they may be in big trouble.
The berth I have been assigned is right in the middle of this group!
So my current thinking is that I will dinghy in tomorrow (Monday morning) and do the paperwork for my berth, pay my dues and explain I will be bringing the boat in at a later date, probably when I run out of water on board. In the meantime I can sit out here, over 100ft from anyone else, feeling quite safe, and watch developments from afar.
I need to make a trip up the channel anyway to take on fuel as I only have 1/2 tank and there is talk of fuel stations being closed, I think this is to stop people travelling over the Santa Semana (Easter) holiday period.
I’m going to be out here at anchor for a while, so I really have no excuse for not doing the jobs.
Firstly I decided to wire up the gas detector alarm I have been carrying around for a few years. Obviously it would have been premature to install it back then as I haven’t had any leaks for it to discover! However I wired it up in a temporary fashion and bombarded it with propane from my stove and an unlit lighter. Not a whisper, I could smell the gas but the detector kept flashing green. I think I need a new detector.
Next I had a look at the power controller for the wind generator. It seems this requires a dump load, a place to dump up to 25Amps of power if the wind generator is making it and the battery is charged. I’m working on how to do this. They also casually mention adding a diode to the feed from the generator, I presume this would need to be 25A, not something I keep on the boat. Another project for after the virus.
Next onto the Marine VHF Radios. I have made a few calls lately with no reply. I suspected both radios have faults, the main one seems to be very crackly and I suspected the cable to the hand mic. Sure enough it was a bad case of snap crackle and pop when I tried it on ch17. I used a UK VHF radio to listen on, this is a great radio I had on Stardust, but it doesn’t have the North American channels which are used a lot here. I took a few inches off the cable where it entered the microphone handset and rewired it. It’s in a bad way, and really needs a new cable, but I suspect the cost of this, even if it’s available would make it cheaper to buy a new one. I think it’s crazy to throw away a perfectly good radio costing around £150 for the sake of a cable that only costs a few pounds to make. Anyway, after my hacking at the decomposing cable, I was able to put it back together again and it works perfectly now. I hope I might get another year or two out of it yet.
Now onto the handheld, the audio level on the microphone seemed very low. It works well as a receiver but listening to me talking on it, I sounded very quiet and distant. As you can see I had to repair the aerial before as the rubber/plastic surround had decomposed, presumably through age and UV. But worse I have a habit of balancing the radio on the top of the binnacle where it tends to jump off and break into pieces on the cockpit deck.
The battery was being held in place by a generous amount of insulation tape wrapped around the body of the radio. I tested the audio level against my UK radio and it was indeed very quiet. I pondered what the problem might be and looking for the microphone slot I realised I had taped over it with a few layers of tape. Duh, I removed the tape and all is well, at least until the battery falls off, but that can be solved with some glue or something.
So a failure on the windgen and gas detector, but great success on the radios.
Paul Collister
Irish surgical mask and Langkawi / Malay T-shirt. Love it.