The coast line approaching Mag Bay.
Log Book
- Departure time: 4:00pm on Sunday, December 16
- Arrival time: 9:00pm on Tuesday, December 18
- Total travel time: 2 days and 5 hours
- Nautical miles travelled: 261
- Engine hours start – end – logged: 912 – 921 – 9
- Gallons of diesel start – end – used: 30 – 26.4 – 3.6
- Weather: The forecast predicted wind from the N/NW from 10-20 knots with NW swell at 5-7 feet.
We were originally planning to stay in Bahia de Tortugas for another day or two. We wanted to take our port-a-bote to one of the far shores to do some exploring and search for our other dinghy. Between the finicky weather and our cold recovery process, however, we weren’t able to find the time or the energy.
When Jeff checked passageweather.com on Saturday night it indicated that Sunday, Monday and Tuesday would be great days for sailing (wind from the N/NW at 10-20 knots, with seas less than 5 feet). On Wednesday a small front was projected to move South along the coast, with winds up to 25 knots. We were both still relatively traumatized from our last leg and didn’t want to get caught in the proverbial again…nor did we want to be in Bahia de Tortugas for four more days (we hope to be in Cabo by Christmas). Plus, the little storm would inevitably be followed by a couple days of dead weather.
“Well, I guess this means that we’re leaving tomorrow.” Jeff resolved.
“Yup, that’s what it looks like.”
We both sighed. Traveling is hard work.
In addition to getting the boat ready to go, we already had a semi-full day planned for Sunday. I was going to go into town to buy a few more groceries and also have coffee with a very kind and interesting woman we had met the day before. She owns and manages the tienda where we purchased the internet dongle (banda ancha). We were also planning a visit with a couple on the other sailboat anchored nearby – S/V Tardis (we love meeting other sci-fi nerds).
By the time all the prep work was done and all the visitors visited it was 3:00pm. We didn’t leave port until 4:00pm. It just keeps getting later and later!
While we were visiting with Tardis, another smaller sailboat with three, maybe four?, younger people drifted into town and dropped anchor. As we were pulling up anchor we waved, they waved back.
“Where are you headed?” I shouted over the motor.
“South!” The guy responded enthusiastically. “You?”
“South!”
“See you there!” He shouted.
We’re excited to meet up with other travelers – we haven’t seen too many along the way.
We were back on the move, headed South to places that held promise of warmer weather and warmer water. If we weren’t both still feeling stuffed up and tired from the previous leg we probably would have been more jazzed.
For the first night and the first half of the next day the wind was blowing out of the NE, which had its benefits and its drawbacks. The benefit was that we were able to sail on a beam reach (full main and working jib) for a very long stretch, almost 100 miles. The winds were 10-15 knots and we were zooming along at anywhere from 4.8 to 6.8 knots (that’s fast for our boat), making a lot of headway. The drawback was that when the wind picked up, it also kicked up some pretty big wind waves from the east, which were out of synch with the choppy swell from the NW. This meant that we had to hand steer when the waves got big and confused (the doc couldn’t hack it).
On the morning of the second day, Serenity was feeling a bit out of control. We were careening down waves and weaving wildly. The wind was anywhere from 15-20 knots out of the NE. We reefed the main, which helped us regain some control. I went down to try to get some sleep (having only slept about 3-4 hours during the night).
When I awoke Jeff looked haggard.
“How was your watch?” I asked. It’s basically the cruiser’s equivalent to how was work today hon?
“Exhausting.” He responded.
“What happened?”
“The waves got huge, really big, and were just a lot to manage.”
“How big were the waves?”
“The size of trucks.”
“Make and model?”
He thought for a moment. “GMC Denali.”
“Damn.” I’m amazed I slept through it, especially in the v-berth.
Fortunately I inherited some more manageable waves. The next evening, into Tuesday morning and afternoon, the wind switched to the NW and we were able to go wing on wing at a 150 degree heading for most of the rest of the way.
We sailed for the majority of the trip, but when the wind died down in the afternoons and our speed dropped below 3 knots, we spent some time motoring.
We had a lot of visitors on this leg. We were escorted by dolphins for the entire first night. They are one of the reasons I had a hard time getting to sleep. When you’re down below in the cabin you can hear them chit chatting. High pitched chirping and long wavelengths of sound flooded the v-berth. There must have been a lot to talk about because it went on for hours. Perhaps they were having a town hall meeting of sorts? It made me wish that I understood sonar.
For the entire second day and night we had sea lions surfing behind us and playing in our wake. I have this irrational fear that someday one of them is going to launch themselves at our cockpit and catch a ride south. Jeff also saw whales breaching as we approached Punta Magdalena, but by the time I turned my head to where his finger pointed, all I could see were waves.
At about 3:00pm on Tuesday we entertained ducking into Bahia Santa Maria for the night and resuming our trip to Bahia Magdalena in the morning, but we both wanted to drop the hook and stay put for awhile. We opted to go the extra 20 miles to Bahia Magdalena, even though we would be entering the bay at night.
When we entered the bay we scoped out two spots near the entrance (Punta Entrada and Punta Belcher) that our chart showed as anchorages. Neither one seemed to afford much protection so we decided to motor the extra 8 miles or so to Man of War cove (wonder how it got its name) just outside of Puerto Magdalena. Jeff went downstairs to give his eyes a rest from the wind, that was now right on our nose, while I kept watch.
I was primarily looking out for lobster and crab traps. The last thing we wanted was a fouled prop. We didn’t see any traps. Within five minutes or so, however, I realized that we were surrounded by tiny lights. Red, green, white. From afar the lights looked like city lights on the horizon, or navigation lights marking a channel. Though, after seeing the lights continually move and shift, I realized that they must belong to something else entirely. A tiny red light in front of us floated in mid-air. I turned the engine down, which is like the bat signal to Jeff. He was in the cockpit within moments.
“There are all of these little lights.” I explained. “I don’t know who they belong to. I wonder if there are nets spread across the channel.” Ever since our experience with gill nets in Puget Sound, I’m wary of nighttime travel in frequently navigated waters.
“I don’t know either.” He replied. We didn’t have a guidebook to give us a heads up.
“Do you see that other red light near to shore? Do you think it’s a net strung up?” He held up our spot light and the beam flooded a tiny boat off of our starboard side. The men in the boat shielded their eyes. I apologized, but they couldn’t hear us over the engines and the wind.
All of those lights, floating in front of and behind us, flanking our sides, belonged to hundreds of pangas (fishing boats). We wove in between them, trying to anticipate where they were going. Distance is deceptive in the dark. When we would inevitably get too close to one, they would shine a bright white light at us, signaling that we needed to change course.
We navigated through the sea of lights that were concentrated near Punta Belcher and made our way to the cove in the dark. It was 9:30pm by the time we dropped our anchor (15 feet, not sure of the bottom, probably sand). I mixed a nasty concoction of gin and “juice” (thanks for the inspiration Snoop, but it’s not as delicious as you might think) and fired up the grill for dinner.
Jeff passed out promptly after dinner. I stayed up later than I should have playing a nerdy card game on the iPad that Jeff should have never introduced to me (it’s called Ascension and I’m hopelessly addicted). Robbie, when we come home for a visit we’re gonna have to have an Ascension party – I’m honing my skillz.