Log Book
- Engine hours: 1009.7 – 1018.7 – 9 hours
- Depart time: 4:45pm on Wednesday, April 17
- Arrival: 6:30pm on Saturday, April 20
- Travel time: 3 days, 1.75 hours
- Total nautical miles: 309
- Weather: The forecast for Wednesday, Thursday and
Friday predicted a system building in the center of the sea of Cortez with a
max of 25-30 knots from the N/NW in the center of the sea. According to the
forecast, as long as we stayed near shore, the wind would not exceed 20 knots.
The max wind was predicted to be on Thursday night and would not exceed 20
knots. Generally the wind would be sustained between 13-18 knots until Friday
night when it would begin to taper off to 5-7 knots on Saturday morning,
eventually dipping down to 0.4 knots on Saturday afternoon. The swell was
predicted to be 1-3 meters from the N/NW. - Maintenance notes: Cleaned and greased winches. Replaced all
fuel filters and bled the fuel lines. Replaced air filter.
After a month of not sailing at all (and one day after Jeff
got back, jet lagged, from his trip to the US) we decided to get back in the
ring and start our trip south. I’m gonna file that decision in the “brash”
category. We were both eager to resume travel and we didn’t really want to pay
the marina for one more night. Furthermore, our visas expire on June 6 and
that’s when we want to be arriving in El Salvador to dodge the tropical storms
and hurricanes that intensify in Mexican waters. Finally, we knew that there was
wind…and that the wind wasn’t going to stick around indefinitely.
We left Topolobompo with the full knowledge that we would be
riding the leading edge of a Norther that was picking up steam in the center of
the Sea of Cortez. As a result, this trip was not a nice, calm reintroduction
to sailing, as we had (perhaps foolishly) hoped for. But boy did we haul ass.
On the Wednesday before we left we had some things to get
done before we could cast off our lines, meaning that we didn’t actually leave
until fairly late in the afternoon (later than planned). With a 10 mile channel
ahead of us, we wanted to be out on the open sea by nightfall. We were fighting
an incoming tide on our way out, along with wind waves, but at least the tide
was rising.
I say this because…we drifted the tiniest bit outside of the
narrowest part of the channel and ‘thunk’, our keel hit bottom. The depth sound
read 6.4 feet when we were on top of a wave and 5.8 feet when we were in the
trough. We have a clearance of about 6 feet. Every wave picked us up and
slammed us down, making us clench our teeth and groan with every impact. Jeff
revved the motor and turned the tiller hard to port, aiming to get us back into
the channel. The tide and wind were pushing us further outside the channel, and
Jeff was working in forward and reverse to get us free. Meanwhile I was
attempting to flag down pangas with Jeff’s red workshirt and preemptively
request help over the radio from passersby and the Port Captain.
Eventually, with some skill and no small amount of luck, we
made it back into deeper water, at which point Jeff turned to me and half
jokingly, said:
“I expected your Spanish to be better by now.” I had been
practicing my Spanish in his absence, attempting to master small talk. My
attempts to call for help on the radio, however, were laughable at best. I
fumbled over every other word and had to get creative about describing our
situation. It doesn’t help that I’ve always been awkward when talking on the
VHF (and the phone…basically, I’m just awkward).
“Fortunately for the both of us I didn’t have many instances
where I needed to call for help while you were gone.” I responded. “I could
have had a lovely conversation with the Port Captain about his job, his family
and what he likes to do for fun in his spare time though.”
“Good point.”
Transiting the channel was slow going and we finally cleared
the entrance, right at nightfall. With the wind at our back as predicted, we
raised the sails and pointed our bow south.
Wednesday night was manageable, but Thursday and Friday were
intense. The wind was fine, never really getting above 18 knots, but the waves
just kept getting bigger and bigger, making it more and more difficult to
steer. The doctor (our autopilot) couldn’t keep up, especially in the late
afternoons when there were wind waves stacked on swell, requiring us to hand
steer. At one point I couldn’t bring myself to look back anymore because the
size of the waves were scaring the crap out of me. I just turned my music up
and sang, focusing intently on keeping our heading at the most comfortable
angle.
We made a lot of progress on the first two days (at times
with only our jib), but they were also exceedingly uncomfortable, especially
since we were a bit rusty in the “living while sailing” department.
It certainly takes some getting used to.
Neither one of us slept well, partly because we needed to
regain a bit of trust in each other and the boat. It’s hard to fall asleep when
you fear that “out of control” is only moments away. At some point,
however, your worries acquiesce to exhaustion and you fall into such a deep
sleep that when you awaken three hours later for your shift, you honestly don’t
know where you are and why your world is thrashing around so violently.
Over time you settle back into a rhythm and your trust in
the decision maker at the helm, as well as your sturdy little boat, is
restored. This does wonders for quality of life when underway.
The wind died down on Saturday as predicted and the tension
of the previous two days melted away. We sailed slowly, bobbed around for a
couple of hours with no wind and motored until we felt a slight breeze from the
W/SW. We sailed upwind to our destination at Isla Isabel and were able to set
our anchor in the south anchorage (20 feet, rocks) before sunset. The swell was
coming from the south, making the anchorage somewhat rolly, but the wind was
shifting to the N/NW, keeping our stern more or less in line with the incoming
swell. A full night of sleep was in order.
The highlight of this passage was reading a new Glamour
magazine while devouring dark chocolate salted caramel Ghirardelli squares
(heaven). The lowlight of this passage was discovering that one of our primary
winches is out of order. I finally service the winches and this is what I get!
