Approaching Cabo San Lucas on Christmas Eve around sundown.
Log Book
- Departure time: 7:00am on Sunday, December 23
- Arrival time: 5:30pm on Monday, December 24
- Total travel time: 1 day and 10.5 hours
- Nautical miles traveled: 171
- Engine hours start – end – logged: 921 – 938.5 – 17.5
- Gallons of diesel start – end – used: 26.4 – 19.4 – 7
- Weather: The forecast predicted wind from the N/NW from 10-15 knots with NW swell at 5-7 feet.
This leg was a blur and not a particularly good blur. We wanted to get an early start from Mag Bay since we had a long two days ahead of us. The trip in total was 171 miles and we wanted to get to Cabo San Lucas before dark on Christmas eve. This meant that even if we left at 7:00am we would need to make 5 knots consistently on our way down.
We rallied at 5:00 in the morning, eager to get a jump on the day. We had a checklist of departure tasks all set out. Most of them we intended to finish before we left, but a number of things (boil water, eat breakfast, prepare the sails for sailing) we could do while still in the protection of Mag Bay. First on our list was bringing up our port-a-bote. It was dark and the wind was blowing pretty good, which kicked up enough chop to make the job daunting, primarily because we needed to get the outboard off the dinghy before we could raise it (it’s too heavy otherwise).
The dinghy was yanking against its leashes with every wind wave, making it difficult to maintain balance. Jeff got in the dinghy and loosened the motor from the transom. He held it up for me where I could reach it on the deck. I then began the precarious walk back to the aft of the boat where we store the motor.
Serenity was weaving in the wind and the decks were slick. As I was stepping into the cockpit, the boat bucked, my foot slipped and I fell. On its way to the cockpit floor, the motor crashed into my ankle. My back broke my fall on the cockpit bench. I howled with pain, which was pulsing through my back into my arms and legs. Jeff rushed to the cockpit, not knowing what had happened and I struggled to explain through the tears.
My first question, of course, was “Is the outboard okay?”
Jeff, knowing better, didn’t diagnose the motor until he made sure I wasn’t broken.
Looking back on it I think my tears were born more from frustration than from pain. This is usually the case. I generally handle pain better than frustration and usually the two are very much intermingled due to my persistent clumsiness.
The accident that morning colored the next two days for both of us. The whole left side of my body ached and my muscles refused to do any heavy lifting, making it difficult for me to raise and adjust sails and work the tiller when the wind and seas were strong. Even sitting in the cockpit was exceptionally uncomfortable.
The wind was a good, consistent 10 to 15 knots at our back. We sailed for most of the first day with the help of the doctor. I honestly can’t remember much about this trip. At some point we started motoring and at some point the water alarm on the engine came on, so we gave it a rest and did some more sailing while the engine cooled.
We never got around to dishes the day prior, so the mound of dirty dishes continued to grow. We ate dehydrated Mountainhouse meals rather than cook. We read our books and tried to sleep when we could.
The one highlight was that at around 3am in the morning, on my watch, pop music started blaring on the hailing channel on the VHF. After silently chastising the broadcaster, and worrying that the music would arouse the slumbering Jeff, I began singing along. Miley Cyrus crooned:
There’s always gonna be another mountain, I’m always gonna wanna make it move. Always gonna be an uphill battle, sometimes I’m gonna have to lose. Ain’t about how fast I get there, ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side. It’s the climb.
Truer words were never sung. To my aural pleasure, this particular song was put on repeat and it lifted my spirit a little. Thank you, Miley and whoever was illegally transmitting this song.
On the second day the waves got steeper and steeper as we neared the west Cape. We motored most of the second day and stumbled around the boat in a daze. We were overtaken by a cruise ship headed south and wondered what the patrons thought about the ocean and about the little speck of a boat they saw on the horizon. Do they think we’re crazy? Do they envy us? Do they even notice us?
Jeff saw lots of whales. We saw dorado and swordfish leaping, but we a) didn’t have the right hook to hook anything that big and b) were so tired we couldn’t be bothered.
Jeff went down for a nap at around 1pm on day two and I snapped to after a couple of Aleve and a restful three hour nap. I didn’t want to arrive in Cabo San Lucas with a dirty boat on Christmas eve, so I did some deep cleaning and boy did it feel good. I started with the dishes, washing them in the cockpit with buckets of sea water. Then I washed the cockpit, which hadn’t been washed in who knows how long. I made a cold coffee concoction to revive us both and went to town on the inside of the cabin, picking up miscellaneous piles, vacuuming the floors and our rugs, emptying the litter box, wiping down counters, cleaning the head (aka the bathroom).
We arrived in Cabo an hour before sunset. Just enough time to find a spot to call home for the next couple of nights, drop the hook, admire the beautiful scenery and the madness that is Cabo and go for a swim. The haze lifted and we celebrated with a beer or six at a restaurant in town (the first, maybe only? craft brewery in Baja…being from the land of amazing beer, we couldn’t resist…it was decent.)
Oh, and in case you’re wondering, the outboard is a-okay…so is my body (though my ankle swelled and got all black and gross for awhile there).