One
of the changes that happened organically when we arrived in Puerto Vallarta
was our determination not to spend any more time at the dock than
needed. For one thing, it wasn't too hard a thing to want to leave Marina
Vallarta as it is truly a dump. But also, our previous hesitation on what this
big adventure should be about had cost us too much time at the dock and was
still fresh on our mind. This particularly drove us to bring focus again on
our itinerary and revisit the time constraints for some of the legs. To keep us
focused, Eric thought we should keep our eyes on the final
goal of moving the boat to France. While I thought it was silly at
first to look so far ahead, I have to admit that, ever since, every time
things get tough, I close my eyes and think about living on my
own boat on the French canals, endless supplies of
delicious wine at hand and that keeps me
going.
Weather
being the only constraint to make the passage from Mexico to Central
America across the Golf of Tehuantepec, in early February when we were planning
this out, we were still early in the season to make
the crossing in the recommended window of March to May when
the year-around gales are at their lowest rate of occurrence. But
time was definitely ticking as we were still about 500 miles from the Golf of
Tehuantepec or approximately 4-5 full days and nights of sailing, not
including potential delays due to bad weather or boat repairs. So
we put together a tentative itinerary to get us swiftly, but in a
reasonable amount of time to allow ourselves to rest and enjoy
ourselves while doing so, to the top Northwest corner of
the Golf of Tehuantepec where we would be able to analyse weather
data and devise a strategy for crossing the infamous stretch of water in
early March.
Well,
willingness is not always enough on the sea as mother nature will not miss an
opportunity to remind you, you on the little boat there, are not the ones
in charge. The day we set out to untie from the dock, it rained one of those
tropical rains which from inside looks like someone is dumping water on you from
a firehose. The weather forecast had called for rain showers in Puerto
Vallarta over a couple days. We were going to start our next leg
a little wet but sail away from it and dry out a few hours later. But
this went on for 2 days and was the most rain that had ever dumped on
Puerto Vallarta in the month of February in all recorded history. February
is supposed to be the second driest month of the year. So we
decided to delay our departure a couple days. We were told we had El
Nino and Global Warming to thank for this delay. While we were waiting out the
rain, our water pump finally gave up. It had been showing signs of weakness in
the week we spent in Puerto Vallarta due to the added load on it. Remember no
bathroom, no laundry available in the marina? It turns out our backup
pump didn't work either. So we had to spend another day looking for a
new pump at the marine store. Guess what? They have an entire isle of those
things in the marine store conveniently located across the street from Marina
Vallarta. Are you suprised it is one of the most popular items on the dock? Not
when you've lived in that dump hole. Ok. Enough. Most importantly, that was
mother nature's little gift to us before we left the last stronghold of cruiser
supplies. It seems as though the sea gods always throw things at you
in pairs: a bad thing to remind you who's in charge and teach you a
lesson and a good one to reward you for taking it like a man. Hold that
thought for now.
So,
on 2/23, several days after our originally tentatively planned
departure date from Puerto Vallarta, we are ready to go. Next stop: Bahia
de Navidad, 150 miles down the coast or a little over 24 hours at an
average of 5 knots (6 mph). One more hiccup though. While we were tied up at the
dock for a few extra days, a big weather system has moved its way down the coast
. We will be heading ahead of it but will be running with 10-15 knots
of winds, building up to 20-25 knots in the afternoon for a few hours
until night time, and 5-10 feet following seas at our stern. Our
determination to leave the dock is bigger than the weather. Emboldened by
our great downwind experience in the hands of Hydro-Dave our new self-steering
device between Baja California and the mainland down to Puerto Vallarta, we
decide to untie from the dock at 9:00 am and go ride out the
weather.
We
have about 5-8 knots of wind on the beam as we leave Banderas Bay (the
20-mile deep bay out of Puerto Vallarta) and are motorsailing (running the
engine with the mainsail up for balance). By the time we round up Cabo
Corrientes, the point southwest of Banderas Bay, the winds have picked up to 15
knots on our quarter starboard stern. We pull out the foresail, setup Hydro-Dave
and turn off the engine. Our boat speed is 6 knots but the nice following seas
are giving us a speed over ground of 7.5 knots. Everything is working in
harmony. This is sailing bliss. By 4pm, the winds pick up to 20 knots. The boat
has too much sail up and is overpowered. So we put a reef in the mainsail,
meaning we reduce the surface of the mainsail. We also reduce the surface of the
foresail. We reset Hydro-Dave. Everything is in balance again. Eric goes down
for a nap while I finish my watch which goes till 6pm. By 4:30pm, I'm
starting to see gusts at 25 knots. The boat becomes slightly overpowered again,
which causes Hydro-Dave to sail closer to downwind. At this point I should
have deactivated Hydro-Dave and hand-steered away from downwind or I should have
further reduced the sail surface or both. But we don't have a second set of reef
points in our main. We've hand-steered the boat under these conditions
many times before. But this time, Hydro-Dave is steering and we are
dangerously close to downwind. I keep an eye on the sails and every time the
foresail drops, meaning we are too close to downwind and at risk of jibing, I
give Hydro-Dave a hand and round the boat up further up wind.
It's exhilarating. Everything is in fragile harmony. The boat is sliding down
waves at 9 knots of speed over ground. It is kind like going down moguls on
a black downhill ski run at a speed slightly above the comfort zone but
with everything in harmony: poles, knees, skis, turns. In the zone. Hydro-Dave
is handling the situation like a pro. I'm mesmerized by our mechanical crew.
That is a problem. Normally, if I were hand-steering, I would be standing in
front of the helm with my feet grounded on either side of it for
balance. But as I watch Hydro-Dave, I'm seated slightly cockeyed in the cockpit
chair with my feet off the ground. And that is when the mother of all side waves
comes knocking the boat about. Those side waves happen with regularity
during a downwind run with following seas. They happen 3-4 times an hour under
good conditions. But one the size of the one that just hit me in this kind of
moderate weather is less frequent. The boat leans on the port side by about
45-50 degrees. As a whole bunch of sea water is dumped all over
the cockpit from the wave breaking a few feet above my head, I
get thrown out of the captain's chair like a ton of bricks, completely
soaked, and howl in pain when I hit the hard surface with my entire left
side. My face is about 30 inches from the water gushing past the
boat guard-rail in what looks like a very close call. All I can think
of during the few seconds that the boat is leaned over is that
those are allegedly similar conditions under which Eric Tabarly,
a French navigator of great notoriety in the 70s and 80s and one
of my role models as a kid, was thrown overboard his boat to his
death while sailing the Sea of Ireland in similarly moderate weather. The
difference between him and me is that he wasn't tethered to the boat, but I am
as I always am when we are underway because of what happened to him. And
luckily, I remembered to tie my tether to the high-end of the boat this
time. I can feel the strong hold of my tether like a cosmic connection
to my childhood hero in a few seconds of shared experience. And at that same
moment, I am overcome with a peaceful feeling that things will be alright. When
the boat comes back to its upright position, I can feel a seeming numbness
settling on my entire left side in response to the intense pain my
body is experiencing. I think for sure I've broken something. At that point
Eric is bent over me in concern for my welfare over that of the boat
naturally. As I've slowly come to the conclusion that nothing's broken
after wiggling my leg and arm at the joints, I look up at the boom
above us and I scream "we're gonna jibe". We both look up just in time
to watch in dismay the boom break like a matchstick and
the mainsail tear along the entire length of its foot like
a sheet of cheap paper towel. I turn my head to the left side of the
cockpit as I remember I forgot to release the jibe preventer. I get back on
my feet in disbelief still that I didn't break any bones. I grab the
helm to get the boat back on course. Eric goes to the stern to disengage
Hydro-Dave and comes back to the cockpit to start up the engine. Then he goes on
deck to lower the mainsail and jerry-rig a contraption to keep the sail and boom
in place until we get back to shore to get the tangled
mess fixed. But where to go to get this fixed? We've pretty much
reached the end of the runway when it comes to marine services in
Mexico. Do we turn around and go back to PV? The idea of beating into
the weather that has been behind us for the past few hours and taking twice as
long to get back to PV as we have going away from it is unbearable. We could be
in Bahia de Navidad at sunrise. We'll figure out what to do when we get there.
So we decide to keep our course.
We
arrive in Bahia de Navidad at 10 the next morning.
Around
11:30pm, the weather had returned to a nice 10 knot breeze on the
quarter stern and 3-5 feet following seas. We could really have
had another great run as we did between Baja and the mainland a couple
weeks prior. But the sea gods had decided it was time for us to give
them a little respect back. Who was I to think I could run with an
overpowered boat and my feet up right in the face of such a big ocean and
for how long? I was put back in my place. By morning, enormous bruises had
developed on my left thigh, upper torso and wrist. But the most bruised part of
me is my ego. I feel like an idiot and guilty for the abuse I
inflicted on the boat. I am also in shock from the whole
experience.
As
the buildings of the 2 small towns of Melaque and Barra de
Navidad start forming in the glow of the morning sun on the coastline
of Bahia de Navidad, lighter emotions are
brought onto Pacific Mystic by the discovery of the area. The
waterfront of Bahia de Navidad is as a close a balance between
urban development and nature as man can attain. The colorful one or two-story
buildings and palapas pop out between lush green palm trees and tropical
vegetation with the Sierra Madre as a backdrop. We did not expect this gem of a
bay barely 140 nautical miles from Banderas Bay. But our astonishment
doesn't end here. At the southeast end of the bay, there's a narrow channel that
leads into a lagoon with the small town of Barra on the north
shore of the lagoon and a high-bluff with the resort of Isla de Navidad on
the south shore. The marina is at the foot of the bluff and marina guests have
access to all amenities at the resort, including a 3-level swimming pool with a
bar you can swim to on the lower level, tennis courts, 3-restaurants, a movie
theater that plays a different
movie every night air-conditioned and free and a golf
course. We have arrived in
paradise, which immediately
got us to ask ourselves again why it is the whole world goes to
Puerto Vallarta? We think maybe this is a fairly new development that
will suffer the same fate as Puerto Vallarta and be overrun by tourism down the
road. But we soon find out that this small town has enjoyed true harmony between
the locals and its gringo visitors for over 40 years and has managed to maintain
its true identity and avoid overdevelopment. We were truly fascinated by
the town. It was one of the most enjoyable visits we'd had so far in a mexican
coastal town.
After
we settled down into our slip at the marina and found our footing on
land back around the marina and resort complex, we start contemplating
the task of restoring our boat its dignity by refitting it with a
working boom and mainsail. It feels overwhelming at the
moment. Convinced that we won't be able to find someone to
discuss matters on broken booms and torn mainsail in a place
that is designed to look like paradise and not like a
cruisers equivalent of a highway truck stop, we pull out the directory of marine
services we had grabbed in Puerto Vallarta. We make a quick call
to the only sail and rigging shop in town who lets us know he can
fix both the boom and sail if we can get them to him. Relieved by the
knowledge that both our boom and mainsail can be fixed, we decide to see if we
can seek help locally and make the Puerto Vallarta option our fallback
plan. We find out that the local net meets at 9:30 am daily
on channel 22 on the VHF radio. We agree to join in the next
morning. We spend the rest of the afternoon by the pool to start releasing
the post-traumatic stress that has been ignored thus
far.
The
next morning, we wake up to the voice of the "French Baker" over the
VHF just before the start of the net announcing he has brought
cheese and ham croissants and other goodies to the marina for sale and to
just give him a holler if we want anything delivered to our boat. We
really are in paradise! I call him to come over to our boat and buy a few
goodies for breakfast. We listen to the start of the net with freshly brewed
coffee and ham and cheese croissants at the galley table. When the net
coordinator ask people to come forward with help requests, I grab the mic and
ask if there is a welder and sailmaker in town thinking I may as well ask if
Santa
claus and the Tooth Fairy live in town and expect a big silence. To my
surprise, a couple people get on the air and mention there is indeed a
welder and a sailmaker in town and provide us with their contact information.
The next day our boom and mainsail are off to their respective repair shop.
ETA for their return: a couple days. Remember what I said previously about the
sea gods sending things in pairs? One bad one to teach a lesson and
one good one to reward for learning the lesson? I can't explain our
luck with how quickly we were able to get back on the
road otherwise. On a side note, when the sailmaker heard my story on
how the mainsail got torn, he looked at me and said: "you're not driving a race
car." I couldn't tell if it was a reprimand or a compliment. I think it was
both. He also suggested we add that second set of reef points on the
mainsail, which we agreed to without
arguing.
On
3/1, almost a week after we left Puerto Vallarta, we are resuming our course
down the pacific coast of Mexico toward the Golf of Tehuantepec. We are going
to break it into 2 legs. Next stop: Acapulco, 330 miles,
approximately 60 hours. After a quick stop to refresh and a quick
visit of Acapulco, we'll continue on to Huatulco, 240 miles further south
or another 48 hours.
Our
exit out of Bahia de Navidad is loaded with emotions. We are still shaken from
the events of our previous leg. It's like getting back in the saddle
after falling off a horse. It is 5pm as we round up the southern point of Bahia
de Navidad. The weather is fair, nice afternoon breeze of 10-15 knots
with easy following seas. We're able to turn off the engine and sail in the
expert hands of Hydro-Dave. We only put up the foresail as we have a nice
current that is pushing us and are registering 5.5 knots over ground. That
is good for now. We are cautious and very attentive to the boat
and each other. As we settle into the nice and easy pace, we are starting
to feel things are different now. We talk about it. Somehow after a few
days of healing our bruising (both the visible one and
the invisible one) by the pool and and in the comfort of
the luxurious amenities at the Bahia de Navidad resort, the boom break
incident has made us stronger. It feels like a rite of passage into the maritime
life. You have to be accepted and give in to the gods you are trusting
your life to. We feel we've been accepted at the cost of a sacrifice, like
returning from a successful expedition to Mount Everest with a missing
earlob lost to a frostbite and left on the mountain as an offering. I look
around us and I feel this great sense of serenity. Eric is quick to joke
and says that if I ever feel the need to sacrifice anything else to the sea
gods, maybe I should do it on another boat as it gets to be a bit costly on
ours. We laugh. We maintain this lightness of being all the way to
Acapulco. The weather is cooperating with our overall spirits, providing a
repeatable pattern for the next 60 hours: engine running from about
midnight to noon and a light breeze returning in the afternoon
allowing us to raise the sails, turn off the engine and turn the
steering over to Hydro-Dave. We also have a 1.5-2 kt current that is
pushing us down the coast the whole time. Perfect. We're able to develop a
nice routine of 3-hour watches, 3 hours off throughout the day and night. Miette
picks up on this and develops her own rhythm under way too. She wakes up in the
morning and comes find me in the cockpit to request her moist food. That's
a routine she has on land or at the dock but had never demonstrated while under
way before. She also for the first time comes to the cockpit at night to sleep.
We've had to tether her to the boat of course. She's ok with that too. The next
leg from Acapulco to Huatulco is the same. The day after leaving Acapulco, as
all 3 of us are sitting in the cockpit and see a sea turtle swim by, I'm
thinking aloud: "That's it, that's the life, that's what we've been looking
for!" Eric agrees. And Miette moans in her sleep. To be
continued...
Here
are pictures taken since my last post in Puerto Vallarta up to
our visit in Acapulco(2/18/2010 to 3/3/2010)
Last
pictures taken in Puerto Vallarta - 2/18/2010 to
2/21/2010
Thursday 2/18/2010
While we were in La Paz, we had a mega yacht docked right next
to us for the entire 2 months we were there. We got to meet
the live-aboard crew members. 3 of them (Salvador, Mario and
Sergio) are from Puerto Vallarta and were on break at home while Eric
and I were there. We had dinner with them and their
families.
Claudia, Salvador, Eric and Valerie
Sergio,
Sergio and Mario's sister, Valerie, Mario, Eric, Mario's wife and baby
girl.
Sunday 2/21/2010
Salvador took me and Eric to the 2010 national charros competition
which was held in Puerto Vallarta this
year.
Salvador and Valerie at the charros
competition.
Catching of the bull.
Valerie sporting her new charros sombrero.
Bahia de Navidad – 2/24/2010 to 3/1/2010
Arriving in Bahia de Navidad...
Views of the resort at Isla de Navidad on the south shore of the
lagoon
Views of Barra de Navidad on the north shore of the
lagoon
Valerie, looking rough upon arrival at the Bahia de Navidad
resort after her handy work the night before
The resort at Bahia de
Navidad...
Views from the bar at the
hotel
Enjoying the poolside and the
pool
Views of the resort at
night
