Contact with Radio Net

I was up at 5 AM today to establish contact with some of the boating HF radio networks described in the cruising guide. I found the first one, "amigo" net, sufficient for our needs. It comes on at 6 AM local time on 8.122 KHz, which is convenient for our planning purposes and had very good reception this morning. The net presents the weather situation by the renowned Don Anderson of "Summer Passage" radio. I had dealt with Don while crossing the Pacific. He has an ... interesting ... style but he presents excellent weather reports. At tomorrow's session I'll introduce Pachuca's presence to the net. Arnold and I agreed that once we are ready to depart this fair bay we will place ourselves on a "sail standby" and be ready to depart very soon if the Amiga net wind report is favorable (or at least not too unfavorable) for our passage to the next anchorage to the north.

After the Amiga net session I tried to listen "Baja California" at 7.15 AM on 7.230 KHz and "Chubasco Warm UP" at 7.294 KHz with no success. There are other nets later in the day that I might try out later.

I re sited that dome light in the head so that the swinging door no longer clobbers it. It is in a good position, closer to the mirror and higher up.

Yesterday afternoon I turned on the refrigerator to see what would happened. By sunset the evaporator was cool which was good for the cooked fish that I had in the compartment. At 8 PM I realized that cool was as good as it was going to get so I shut the compressor down lest it chew through 5.5 amps all night long. Given that the compressor works fine and the evaporator is brand new I must conclude that some of the gas has leaked out. Perhaps in La Paz I will be able to have someone look at it.

We went ashore and did our clothes washing at the well. We took 3 plastic buckets and a long thin rope. The well had looked deeper than it actually was, being about 40 feet deep. At the bottom was maybe 2 ft of water and a plastic bucket that had probably broken its handle and dropped from the weight of the water. The water looked very clean, although nobody will drink it without boiling it first. Arnold and I got to work, each with his own washing bucket. While we were there we met two different sets of people drawing water from the well. To the second pair, two men from Canada who are very experienced in motor camping in this part of the world, I remarked that people must have been socializing at water wells for thousands of years. Before leaving the well Arnold and I ate the fish that I had cooked the morning before and it tasted great - better, probably, than it would have tasted immediately after cooking.

We took the clothes back to the boat and hung them on those overhead life lines that I have running from the cockpit to the shrouds and inner forestay, which make great clothes lines. Then we set off for the hill.

Arnold had expressed his intention to scale Cabo Los Frailes. I had said fine, you climb and I'll go to the restaurant for lunch and a grande bottle of cerveza. He mumbled to himself that he'd like to go up with somebody else so I agreed to accompany him. The climb was not easy. Arnold had a hard time but would not give up and managed to get to the top. Up there we shared some trail mix and took photos of our 360 degree views. It was good to look down on the raptors and even a sea plane flying around. When I got back to the boat later I check in our guide and found that the summit was 755 ft high, and it had been a hot and rough climb that was at least marked with little red plastic ribbons that the surveyors use.

We got down to the beach and Arnold was too buggered to walk the two miles to the restaurant. He took the Zodiac back to the boat and I made haste to the beer and the food. I ordered a grande cerveza and started to quaff that down while I settled down and cooled off. To the left were two Canadians and an an American talking about retirement plans, IRA's, rates of taxation, etc. To my right were two Mexican working men and the proprietor. I found myself in an exquisite position right in the middle: trying to communicate in Spanish but not quite being one of them, and in this setting not part of the English side either. The little girl came over and I said proudly "Me llamo Roberto" (my name is Roberto).

I had only 350 pesos on me and I wanted to make sure that I could cover my bill, so I laid the money on the table and asked "cuanta cuesta comida?" He indicated that there I had plenty of money. So I had an entree of their great guacamole and a main meal of 3 or 4 fried scallops and 6 big fat shrimp with carrots, rice, and cauliflower with plenty of bread. That came out to 180 pesos which I considered to be reasonable, given that it included a 940 ml bottle of beer. So I asked for "dos cervezas grande cerrado por favor" (two large beers unopened, please) and the cuanta came to less than 300 pesos. I paid and said in halting Spanish what I had just read in my "Spanish for Cruisers": "Me gusta la comida aqui" (I like the food here.) Both the proprietor and his wife who did the cooking beamed with appreciation. "Muchas Gracias" and with a wave of my hand "Adios."

It was dark when I got to the brow of the hill overlooking the beach. I pulled out my portable search light and like a partisan in WWII started flashing at the boat. Soon I saw Arnold's return flash so I knew that he would be under way soon. His arrival took longer than expected because he could not get the outboard engine to start so had to row in. Nevertheless I got back to the boat OK.

I was tired and dirty from all of the climbing and walking so I had a moonlight bath in the ocean. Back in the cockpit I rinsed with fresh water and as I dried off I savored the scene of the white beach with the soothing sound of the waves and the big orange moon coming up and shining across the water and thought that this would be one of those moments that I would remember.

From my discussion with Arnold it looked like we would stay another day. We would plumb the water tanks and bring more water from the well if we had to, using chlorine bleach to purify it. When I think of it, most of the water that we drink on this boat is boiled either for coffee and tea or for cooking. It would take little trouble to boil water that we put in our water bottles.

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Land Legs

Today Arnold and I went ashore. While we were preparing to leave the boat a man named Barry came by in his dinghy heralding the news that there had been a major earthquake of magnitude 8.8 in central Chile. At that point we were not sure of the impact on us here near the mouth of the Sea of Cortez.

Ashore we met several people and learned that there was no tsunami danger in Mexico or the west coast of North America, although for an arc from New Zealand to Hawaii it was another story. We visited the beach toilet facilities (I've seen worse.) then after learning that there was a garbage disposal facility nearby I did a quick visit to the boat to retrieve our large and very full plastic garbage bag. On the way to the boat I was approached by what I would describe as water rangers and got my first chance to practice my Spanish. I opened with "Buenos Dias" and they reacted with surprise and pleasure. One of them asked me if I was from a "velero" which thanks to my recent boning up on Spanish I knew meant "sailboat". "Si, de velero" I replied, and in a mixture of English and Spanish they told me about the tsunami alert and that the nearby marine reserve was closed. He said that we were OK traveling between the beach and the boat. I gave them my "muchas gracias".

We dumped the garbage, visited the well where the water is OK for washing but not recommended for drinking, then made a 2 or 3 kilometer walk to a quaint little "restaurant". It was a great little place. It was a round building with a concrete floor and wooden pergola-style frame with what looked like a thatched roof. It was very cool, breezy, and comfortable with the sounds of chickens and wild birds nearby. It looked like a family enterprise with mother doing the cooking, father being the front man, and their cute 5 year old girl running around and having a great time. The locals ate and drank here.

The first thing I asked for was "Dos cervezas, muy frio, por favor". He offered us "Pacifico" beer, either large bottles or small. We had not had alcohol for three days and had just walked a hot 3 km so I replied "grande". We were each presented with 940 ml bottles of cold beer. That is almost 3 times the size of a bottle of Heineken and I must say that it was delicious - right up there with Corona or Australian lagers, perfect for hot weather. There was no beef or pork on the menu, just seafood which should not be a surprise. So we had fried scallops and gigantic shrimp with vegetables and guacamole that the man made on the spot for us. Oh, and we each had a second beer ("pequeno por favor) of only 340 ml with our meal. We walked back on that dusty road feeling really good, with two more bottles of the "grande" bottles in my back pack. When I asked for those two bottles I said "No" while making the motion of opening a bottle. "Ah, cerrado" he said. So that was my Spanish word of the day: "cerrado" means closed.

We got back to the beach and I could see that the wind had turned southerly but very light. In fact, this would have been a good day to push up north to the next anchorage because of the rare southerly breeze. However, we were not done with this place and we would take our chances when we were ready to go. Two more boats had joined us in the anchorage. Now there were 5 of us. It looked like three American, on of which was from Alaska, one Canadian (Vancouver), and us the Australian.

Arnold and I had salt water baths off the boat - a real swim for me, a "ladder bath" for Arnold. Then we settled in for a quiet night. In the refrigerator compartment was some fish that I had cooked this morning. Charlie had come on his kayak with his partner "Richelle". "Oh, a nuclear family!" I exclaimed seeing Richelle holding two cute little dogs. Charlie planted a fresh fish on our deck and said that he could use a cup of coffee. They could not come on board because of the dogs, although I said that they were welcome on board. But I obliged with a ceramic cup of fresh brewed coffee that he said tasted great as they set off. (He returned the cup later.)

Arnold and I decided to say at least one more day in which we planned to wash clothes at the well and scale the headland of the bay, which must be several hundreds of feet high. Of course I would return to the restaurant this time armed with my copy of "Spanish for Cruisers" and a healthy appetite.

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Peaceful Night at Anchor

After settling down in the Bahia Los Frailes anchorage I wanted a more substantial meal that we had been eating so I cooked brown rice with the usual carrots and onion and in separate pots heated 2 cans of tuna and a can of corn. I then put plenty of Paul Newman sauce in the rice to give it some flavor and zip. It came out pretty well. Arnold and I then split the last half bar of chocolate for desert and at 8.30 we hit the sack for a full 10 hours. It was a quiet night with a light breeze and the usual canopy of stars over head. The anchorage was very good in that there was no rolling from surges refracted around the headland.

I emerged from the cabin at 7 AM to find a strong NW wind and the same stark landscape that had reminded me of the Western Australia while motoring the previous day. I had that comfortable feeling of aches and pains everywhere which reminded me that I had had done some serious exercising. I remarked to Arnold that there is nothing like sailing for an overall workout: ankles, legs, back, stomach, arms & shoulders, neck, and in particular hands with all of the heaving and pulling of ropes and anchor chains. Arnold was pretty tired too and suggested that we stay another day. That made sense because we would need this entire day for exploring the place and I had some minor jobs to do.

One of the minor jobs was to resite the dome light in the head that was frequently being turned on and off by a swinging cupboard door. On the cruise from Ensenada the light was struck hard enough to send it crashing to the floor (with no damage). Another job is to "put away" the running back stays. They are two blue ropes that pass from mid-mast to turning blocks at the rear of the boat then to cleats. They are a pain because we wind up with blue rope in the cockpit and the necessity to adjust the lines every time the boom is moved from one side to the other. Twice I have been hit in the open eye by one of these swinging ropes. This is all warranted if the boat is being sailed as a cutter, meaning that the staysail is regularly used off the inner forestay. But I have already documented my problems with using the staysail and therefore sail the boat as a sloop. "Putting away" the running back stays simply means routing them through snatch blocks just aft of the mast to the cockpit where they are held by jam cleats and the rest neatly bundled up out of the way.

I worked out some numbers on our cruise from Ensenada to the anchorage at Bahia Los Frailes. The leg took 8 days, from 17 to 25 February. The total distance was 685 miles (635 to Cabo San Lucas and 50 to Bahia Los Frailes). Our average speed over those 8 days was 3.57 knots.

The wind continued to howl during the day, typically 17-22 knots over the mast. We decided against trying to inflate and launch the Zodiac in those conditions. Arnold seemed to enjoy sitting in the cockpit looking at the goings on both ashore and at sea. We saw packs of rays leaping out of the water and landing with big slaps on the water with their winds. On the horizon I saw whales in action again. They seemed to leap half out of the water then tilt and come crashing down. Such useless effort. Must be sex involved.

I did stow away the running backstays but not in the way that they were when I purchased the boat. It did not make sense to run the lines at an angle from the mast, through a block on the cabin, then to the spray dodger area where they would make worse the clutter of ropes that already existed there. Low on the sides of the mast are rings that were probably put there for fixing the jockey pole that lies in the forecastle. I suspended the bundle of running backstay lines from there with a very neat result.

Arnold reminded me that we needed to stow the MPS spinnaker so we put the spinnaker on deck to get rid of any lingering dampness, cleared the forecastle, and left the starboard locker empty and open in an attempt to dry it out completely. After an hour we packed everything back up. We made good use of the long, sturdy, and waterproof bag that Brenda had made for the water maker by stowing it in the sail locker on top of the spinnaker and filled with all of our electrical cables, plugs, power boards, and appliances such as toaster and water jug.

I consulted the cruiser's guide about the weather and it appears that it is typical this time of year (winter) to get "northers" of 20-30 knots that can last for "a number of days". Arnold and I realizes that it would be madness to try to motor against those sorts of winds so we accepted the fact that we might be at this anchorage for a number of days. However, we did agree to launch the Zodiac the next day regardless of the wind.

In the late afternoon I did more work with the camcorder, familiarizing myself on its use and how to transfer the images to the computer. I expect to make much more use of the camcorder in the future and publish some of the shorter clips on this blog.

It is fortunate that I started cooking late because just as I was about to open two tins of chili beef we heard a voice and it was a guy on a kayak that Arnold had spoken with the previous day. He fishes and releases but he promised to bring us a fish. He had gone out that afternoon in that howling win and caught four. He showed us the lure that he uses when trolling and said that we should be able to catch fish off the boat using pieces of the fish that he had given to us as bait. I filleted the fish and fried up four beautiful pieces that Arnold said later was just the right amount for us.

After dinner I threw some scraps overboard and soon we had many long thin blue fish that I think are called gar fish in Australia swimming around the boat. In the light of the full moon we saw a school of large fish swimming at the surface and all around the boat was an incessant slap slap slap of the manta rays jumping out of the water and doing their things. I remarked to Arnold that I have never been in waters teeming with so much fish life.

We then watched "The Jackal" with Bruce Willis, Richard Gere, and Sidney Portier. It was Arnold's first view of it and about my fourth; but I enjoy it every time I watch it because it is a solid production with a great cast.

The wind had begun to moderate in the afternoon and by 10 PM there was but a gentle breeze and we would be serenaded at night by the sound of the surf. I would try to make contact in the morning with some of the cruising net weather reports on the HF radio. Our impression from the first two days in the Sea of Cortez is that the winds are fickle on a grand scale, with abrupt and big changes in wind speed and directions. The GRIB files that we had been receiving have not been accurate and maybe we had been expecting too much from them for this special area. Perhaps the cruising net weather reports will be more helpful. Sometime after that we would inflate the Zodiac and walk on dry land for the first time in 10 days.

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Rounding Cabo San Lucas

We had an uneventful afternoon with good wind and enough warmth for Arnold to spend several hours in the cockpit wearing shorts and T-shirt. We were happy to see that we were well east of the shipping lane and in fact there was surprisingly little traffic of any sort around.

The wind started to die down shortly after I went to bed and at 9 PM Arnold gave up and lay the boat ahull, wheel lashed to one side, double reefed mainsail still up, jib rolled in. Arnold reported that the boat did slow circle drifting south at an average of about 1 knot. At about 11 PM there was wind again and soon Arnold had the boat moving NE parallel to the coast 5 nm away. We rounded Cabo San Lucas at about midnight.

At 1 AM Arnold woke me for my watch and he suggested that I have a look at the scene outside. What a splendid sea it was: the lights of Cabo San Lucas under a canopy of stars and the moon illuminating the calm ocean from te west. This reminded me of our approach to Honolulu that night 14 months ago. Except that things are different now: the boat is better equipped, we are more experienced and confident, and we are much less fatigued.

Soon I saw a ship all lit up traveling south in the shipping late. That had to be a cruise ship. AIS reported it as the "Carnival Spirit", bound for Acapulco. I had see that ship very recently, either in Ensenada or San Diego.

The wind started to die again and soon we were creeping along at 1 knot from a 4 kt wind. From the east was coming another cruise ship, the "Sapphire Princess" bound for Cabo San Lucas. At 2.30 AM I was forced to lie ahull. After some thought I woke Arnold and told him that I was about to start the engine and not be concerned. Rather than losing ground at 1 kt I preferred to be gaining ground at 4 or 5 kt. Besides, running the radar constantly on standby had taken toll on our battery supply. We had 12.1 volts and would probably be OK until we dropped anchor but it was going to be nice to top up the batteries and not have to worry.

After an hour of motoring the wind was back, though right on the nose. I set up on a port tack on almost a reciprocal course to that of Sapphire Princess, two miles to our port side. Then the wind veered enough to force me to tack which put me on a heading to meet the coast 35 sea miles from our proposed anchorage at Cabo Frailes. We would not be able to tack that far in light winds before the next nightfall. If the wind did not improve during the coming day we would use the engine.

Just after dawn AIS reported a 73-ft "Passenger" ship named "Red Rooster III) south of Cabo San Lucas headed NE and bound for San Diego. Either the captain had forgotten to update his AIS data or he was going to get a rude shock when he got to the northern end of the Sea of Cortez 600 miles away. Oops and there was another cruise ship "Crystal Symphony" headed for Cabo San Lucas. That small resort town was going to be very crowded this day.

The wind started to die so I decided to shake out the reef and raise the entire mainsail. The cranking got harder and harder. I stopped several times and carefully looked at all of the potential problem spots but everything was in order. So I cranked yet harder and harder. Then I saw pieces of the halyard cover falling on the cockpit floor and realized too late that I was working against a bad crossover and the sheer force of the cranking had peeled off a section of the cover. If that section of the halyard cannot be re-covered then I'm up for a new one. In my years of sailing I have never mangled a line with a crossover but today was the first time and a hard probably and probably expensive lesson was learned. That was a beautiful new halyard that I got in Port Townsend.

The wind died and I motored for an hour until it came back. However, it got weaker and weaker and well before noon Arnold and I agreed that we'd better use the engine if we hoped to make the anchorage that night. Thus we motored about 30 miles.

We saw our first two whales shortly after starting the engine. Arnold and I heard something from behind the boat, we turned around just in time to see a pair of whales doing their rolling dive maybe 50 meters from the boat. They were much bigger than the Orcas and were colored either blue or brown, and I don't recall seeing a dorsal fin. Arnold and I rushed for our cameras but this pair did not reveal themselves again. An hour later Arnold noticed what looked like a whale show on the horizon - lots of blowing and jumping out of the water.

Later I saw another pair not more than 30 meters off our starboard but they dived before Arnold could make it with his camera. We did manage to take videos of whale a couple of hundred meters off our port side but have yet to review them. ... Zoom shots off pitching decks are a real challenge.

With three hours to go the wind came back, this time from the north. Before long we were punching our way into a 25 knot head wind and things got very unpleasant. Fortunately the wind moderated somewhat as we approached the anchorage and we made our entrance into Bahia Los Frailes and dropped anchor in 10 meters of water and 3.30 PM. The bay is formed by a headland that curves to the east yielding good protection from northerly winds in particular. We found the beach fairly well organized as though it has official support. There are beach shacks and to the left modest holiday homes. The cruising guide states that there on the western shore of the bay is a hotel that will serve meals to visiting yachties if they make reservations. Further down is Quito's restaurant. Arnold and I planned to spend at least one full day exploring the place and very likely having dinner out.

Shortly after dropping anchor (at 23N22.8, 109W25.6) Arnold and I celebrated by sharing the last beer on board. Soon we had the boarding ladder out and I went for a very enjoyable swim. The water was chilly but not cold. However, it was murky. In the cockpit I shampooed my hair in fresh water and completely rinsed myself in fresh water. It was great to be clean again. Arnold went in after I did but found the water cold.

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Burial at Sea and Shipping Woes

Ever since my departure from Fremantle I've been carrying a heavy torpedo-shaped Waterlog water maker designed to be towed by the boat and produced by an English company. In past blogs I described how we managed to get about 6 drops of water in total from the unit and when I tried to contact the company from Tahiti via emails and phone messages I got no response.

Today Arnold and I gave the waster maker one last try. I had done my best to remove some kinks in the tow line, put some well designed weights at the head of the unit to hold it down, and introduced a swivel attachment at the back rail to ensure that the tow line would not kink up again.

We towed it for over 2 hours at over 6 knots and did not get one drop of water. So on 24 Feb 2010 at 0015 GMT I unshackled the tow line and sent the water maker to the bottom. For anyone interested in salvage it is located at 23N41.954, 112W14.148 in 2944 meters of water.

In the early evening we became plagued with shipping. At one point we had one ship bearing down on us from the north, running just outside of the continental shelf. We could either keep sailing and cross its path with maybe a half mile to spare or we could gybe. We were headed for two relatively shallow spots (about 45 meters) at the edge of the shelf so we gybed. But that put us near the path of a ship coming up from the south, and then there was that well lit up fishing boat just off our starboard bow that kept starting and stopping in unpredictable ways. We were hemmed in and were forced to do a lot of "shucking & Jiving" to maintain reasonable margins of safety. Arnold found this extremely stressful and when we saw our chance we headed SSW, away from the continental shelf and the shipping. Because of this we had a late meal (pancakes done by Arnold) and I didn't get to sleep until 9 PM.

At midnight Arnold woke me and said that the wind had shifted against us and we should gybe. We were headed SW and tangential to our destination so we gybed back and set the course for Cabo San Lucas. Arnold had not seen one ship during this time. He went to bed while I enjoyed a long cup of coffee in the cockpit protected by the spray dodger, savoring the splendor of sailing at night in relatively calm seas with a 3/4 moon in a clear sky illuminating the world.

But that wasn't to last. Soon AIS reported a cargo vessel (named "Great Praise" but more of a "Great Pain" to me) on a course from the north one hour away on a collision course. I rolled in half of the jib and dropped our boat speed from 6.3 kt to 5.4 kt, giving us a predicted clearance of about 1 nautical. But then there appeared another target, the "Graciela" coming up from the south headed for Ensenada with a 1.5 nm clearance. Fortunately appeared that it too would pass ahead of us. Getting caught in this type of crossfire seems to drive Arnold nuts so I was determined to deal with this quietly, which included avoiding using the VHF radio. We had already lost hours in our efforts to avoid the shipping but from the closeness of these ships passing each other it appeared that the shipping lane was very narrow at this point and if we could get through it we'd have a clear run for Cabo San Lucas. I made sure that the AIS alarm was off because these ships would pass within our 2 mile safety zone and I didn't want it to wake Arnold up.

It soon became apparent that I would cross Graciela's path and she would pass to our stern. If I went too fast I would get too close to Great Praise and if I slowed the boat too much I would get too close to Graciela. I measured the gap between two ships later and it was 1.8 miles. This sounds like a big gap but to a sail boat approaching at right angle to the corridor and dealing with the vagaries of the wind it was a small gap indeed. Eventually I found myself 4 miles directly ahead of Graciela, crossing her path at 6 knots. By then Great Praiss was no danger. I hailed Graciela on the VHF and explained my position. He had a look and said that he could see my green navigation light. I asked him to hold his course and I should clear him by about a mile, but being a sail boat I had only limited control. He said that he'd keep an eye on us. I told him that he was a gentleman and bid him good night. Fortunately Arnold did not wake up because if had seen the lights of that ship perfectly lined up on us from 4 miles away he would have freaked out. I let out more jib to get more speed out of the diminishing wind and set the course to skirt the continental shelf. By then it was 4 AM (Nothing like a drama to shorten a watch.) and I rewarded myself with a Corona out of our rapidly diminishing stock. Dawn would be at 5.30 AM and I expected it to be a good one. I would probably see it in listening to my favorite track in my MP3 player: Chicago's "25 or 6 to 4", which to me was written for a guy waiting for dawn after a hard night on watch ("Waiting for the break of day ... Passing lights against the sky ... Giving up I close my eyes ... Staring blindly into space ... Feeling like I ought to Sleep ... Wanting just to stay awake ... Wondering how much I can take ....")

Arnold took over the watch at 6.30 AM. I woke up at 10.30 AM to find us moving close to 7 knots on a beam reach from an 18 knot northerly wind. Arnold had "tweaked" Jeff and we were nicely following the contour of the continental shelf. The boat seemed a little stressed so we went from full Genoa to a no. 2 on the headsail. Ah, that was better: boat was much more comfortable and Arnold reckoned that we had lost only about half a knot in speed.

At noon we were at 22N49, 111W02, 58 miles west of Punta San Cristobal at the very tip of Baha California. Our noon-noon distance had suffered from our evasive actions in the previous 12 hours and was only 105 miles. We would round Cabo San Lucas at night and head for Bahia Frailes 35 miles up the coast where we hoped to anchor and do some R&R, starting with baths (preferably by swimming).

At noon the solar panels were delivering 8 amps with the wind charger contributing an average of 1 amp in the slakening wind. Our house batteries were at 12.4 volts so we were still in good shape.

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Toilet Fixed and Moving Well

All afternoon we ran SE at about 6 knots, increasing to over 6.5 kt as evening fell.

We solved the riddle of the Jabsco toilet and got it working again. Research on the issue that I received from Stephen in Australia during the afternoon inspired me to have another look at the problem, which all logic told me must be the joker valve. While fiddling with the joker valve I decided to force it inside out and instantly I recognized it as the tightly sealed one way valve that I had recalled from earlier work. Just like that our problem was solved. We think that the huge back pressure caused by the blocked outlet hose forced the material back the wrong way through the joker valve turning it inside out. As bad luck would have it, the new joker valve in the refurbishment kit was also inverted, throwing us off the scent, so to speak.

At 4 PM Arnold performed a comprehensive load test and pronounced the loo a huge success.

What a relief. No more bucket. No more one-handed peeing over the side. The parts of the toilet that I replaced in the refurbishment process are in excellent condition so I am confident that I've got enough spares in hand to get me back to Australia OK.

Arnold went solo cooking the meal of rice and corned beef and did just fine. While I was washing the dishes he reported speeds of 8.0 and 8.1 knots. This was not sustained but we were indeed rocketing along and the high end of 7 knots.

I got out of the cot just after midnight and Arnold mentioned a bank 15 miles how head. "How deep?" I asked half asleep. "Eighteen meters" he replied. WHAT!!??? It was time for me to do the freaking out. In these heavy seas passing over an underwater mountain that rises steeply from 2000 meters to 18 meters is asking for big trouble: maybe just a rough sea, maybe breakers in the cockpit, or maybe a knockdown or perhaps a rollover. I didn't want to find out. To be fair, Arnold had spotted this bank many hours before but it had not concerned me then because it seemed so far away and I wasn't even sure that we'd reach the continental shelf this day. We decided to gybe the boat and stay off the continental shelf for as long as possible. Arnold noted that the ships seemed to be skirting the continental shelf. Our plan was to maintain this SSW course until dawn then gybe back and run more or less parallel to the continental shelf.

Arnold and I were both pleased with how the boat has been performing. We had a huge following sea to help us along, with a true wind of about 25 knots on a road reach. I could see that in these conditions running with a double reefed mainsail and tiny jib was superior to running with jib only as had been my tendency. The sail forces are better balanced for the helm, there is less rolling, and it puts most of the load on the mainsail which is much better able cope with these stresses than the jib and forestay.

We were also pleased with the boat systems. With the inefficient refrigerator shut down the combination of wind generator and solar panels was keeping up with our energy demands. We had not run the engine since leaving Ensenada and it looked like we might make it all the way to La Paz without having to charge the batteries with the engine. In these winds the wind charger was producing a steady 1-2 amps which adds up to a significant help over a 24 hour period.

The electronics has been outstanding. Because of our recent experience with fishing and sail boats that do not use AIS and can be difficult to spot in the dark we've taken to keeping the radar scanner on standby and turning on the transmitter every hour or so to see what is out there. Arnold is correct in his opinion that we can con the boat better from the comfort and safety of the navigation station than we can out in that cockpit with all of the associated discomforts and dangers.

And of course the Sailmail, grib files, and weather faxes have been extremely useful. I reviewed the latest grib file and saw that we could expect a moderation of the wind by 9 AM, with veering to become a northerly. This should give us a comfortable reach for the final run to Cabo San Lucas.

At 4.30 AM I was forced to wear ship back to the SE because I was about to cross a narrow lane formed by 3 ships heading NW and SE. That gave us 5 hours before we would reach the continental shelf. Later I realized that the ships had done me a favor by forcing me to tack because the wind eventually veered and we were able to lay a comfortable line along the edge of the continental shelf without having to go back to the SSW course.

As the grib file had predicted the wind moderated somewhat by 10 AM and we rolled out more jib to keep our boat speed above 6 knots.

At noon we were at 23N54, 112W34 and 158 miles from the tip of the Baja California peninsula. We had a noon-noon distance of 135 nautical miles - not bad for a double reefed mainsail and a tiny patch of jib.

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Half Way

All afternoon we moved along at between 6 and 7 knots. The weather was good other than two brief showers and the boat moved well with a following sea.

My chores for the afternoon were to clean out the forward galley cupboards and to bake some bread since we had just finished the last of the bread that we had purchased at Costco back in San Diego.

The previous night I had noticed a line of material running along the back edge of the aft galley cupboard. It was either capers that had escaped from the jar or we had been invaded by a mutant version of the Andromeda Strain version of a Creighton novel sequel. Fortunately it was just capers and the cleaning process allowed me to become reacquaint with everything that was stored in the cupboard. My find of the effort was a nearly full 500g jar of Vegemite. I proudly showed it to Arnold telling him that there was plenty there and he could help himself to as much as he wanted. He made a face and said that he would stick with the peanut butter and I could have the Vegemite all to myself. I said fine, but I'd be healthier than he would be. ... Some people just don't have the appreciation for the really good things of life such as good old Aussie Vegemite.

I dug out the flour for the baking found that the bottom of the bag had been exposed to moisture and was a bit moldy. That and the fact that the flour dated to Tahiti did not deter me. I dug out the small amount of moldy flour and used the rest, making an effort to sift and aerate it with a fork. While kneading the dough I hoped that Arnold would not recall where my hands had been two days previously when working with the plumbing. Then while the loaf was baking I realized that I had forgotten to add sugar to the mix. However, the loaf rose well and look good enough to prompt Arnold to take a photograph. The bread tasted fine without the sugar, a wonderful contrast to American breads which tend to be laced with sugar. (I wonder how many cases of diabetes would be prevented if all US food makers agreed to stop or at least moderate their surreptitious use of sugar and other sweeteners in their products.)

We rocketed into the night doing 7 knots. Our noon to noon distance the previous day had been 117 miles. At this rate we would easily crack 120 miles, the equivalent of 2 degrees of latitude.

At dusk we discussed a string of rain clouds on the western horizon and decided to put a second reef in the mainsail and roll in the jib to a no. 3. This proved to be a good move not just because it prepared us for any squalls that might it us during the night but also because the boat just sailed better - less yawing and agitation, less weather helm, and the loss of maybe half a knot of speed.

Arnold watched me cook spaghetti. I was ashamed to reveal how easy it is: while the water heats chop up an onion and throw it in the water. When the water is boiling get a big handful of thin spaghetti, break it in half, then put it into the water using a fork to make sure that the spaghetti strands stay separate. While that is simmering set the table and lay on the Parmesan cheese. Put the colander in the sink. When the spaghetti is ready (a little andante) empty the pot into the colander then thrown the spaghetti minus the water back into the pot. Pour a little - well, a lot actually - olive oil into the spaghetti, throw in about 100 ml of Paul Newman sauce, and stir it up. Tonight we opened up can of olives and threw some of them in too. It wasn't bad. We have found that heated corned beef goes well with it when we are really hungry.

I was up shortly before midnight to have another go at capturing some weather faxes and to take over the watch. Arnold was unhappy with our SSE course which was close to tangential to Cabo San Lucas, since the Baja coast falls away to the SE. We were 165 miles off the coast but at least we were beyond the shipping lane. After much discussion and some calculations we decided to wear ship (gybe) with the same sail plan. The results were better than I had calculated and we found ourselves only 15 degrees off the rhumb line to Cabo San Lucas. (We had discussed dropping the mainsail and running with jib only to give us a better angle of sail but I wanted to avoid that because Jeff might have trouble dealing with the unbalanced sail plan.)

The weather faxes were very clear and showed us to be under the influence of a stationary high for the next 40 hours. The prospects were for winds to reach up to 20 knots and veer to the north, giving us a better lay to Cabo San Lucas.

At midnight we were past the half way mark to Cabo San Lucas.

As noon approached we were running directly for Cabo San Lucas at around 6 knots. Given that the boat was running fast and comfortable we saw no need to change sail plan of double reefed main and no. 3 jib, particularly since we were expecting 20 knot winds in the coming night.

At noon we were at 25N25,114W24, 122 miles from the coast and 290 miles from the tip of the Baja California peninsula which is near Cabo San Lucas. We had made good a noon to noon distance of 112 miles. We had actually covered more ground but our hours running SSW had cost us distance made good.

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Steady Progress and Toilet Problem

The sailing was steady for the rest of the day from noon to midnight. By midnight the wind had dropped to 8 knots but it was enough to keep the boat moving at 3.7 knots with only a no. 4 jib to pull us along. (We were running with a reduced jib to minimize agitation and stress to the rigging and sail during those regular bouts of heavy rolling.)

Most of my afternoon was dedicated with the toilet. Arnold confirmed my initial impression that although the refurbished toilet flushed beautifully, it would not pump out. I dismantled the pumping mechanism and asked Arnold for a peer review. We compared every replaced part with the original and confirmed that they were identical. We confirmed that all parts had been installed correctly because they have been cleverly designed to be "idiot proof". In the end we thought that we understood how the system worked, could find nothing wrong with the parts and installation, and had no real answer to the cause of the problem. However, to us both the old and new joker valves did not seem quite right. They should have been totally puckered up and sealed in the normal state and not slightly open as these were, which would allow water to pass back from the drain hose into the pumping cylinder. We have asked for advice on the problem and in the meantime it is back to the bucket for us like in the early days of sailing.

The alarm went off at 4 AM and from the cockpit I saw the very bright lights of a boat I had been aware of for hours. He wasn't putting out AIS information so I turned on the radar and learned real fast how to mark a radar target for tracking. The radar gave information on bearing, distance, speed, closest point, and time of closest point, etc. This information did not have the precision of AIS because the target jumps around as the boat's radar dome moves with the mast. Nevertheless the information was useful and put me at ease. I also began tracking a target 6 miles ahead and soon saw that it was slowly outrunning us and presented no danger.

The "Dangerous Target" alarm kept sounding as the first target encroached on our 2 mile diameter safety zone and that woke Arnold up. He asked if I knew about the light astern of us and I said that I had seen it earlier but could not see it on radar. Eventually Arnold became concerned enough to suggest that we change course so I went out for a look and was amazed to see how close the boat was. However, he was showing red which meant that he was not heading directly at us but passing us on our starboard side. From the height of the light I figured that it must be a sail boat and soon I heard a sail flap. The boat passed us smartly and by dawn 30 minutes later he must have been 1.5 miles ahead of us. This inspired me to do better so we hoisted up the main with the first reef and rolled out the jib fully and soon we were doing over 6 knots on a beam reach. An hour later the wind had moderated and we settled down to a speed of 4.5 knots.

I figured that I had not seen the boat on radar because it was a sail boat. However, Arnold pointed out that because the radar is mounted in front of the mast there is a blind spot directly behind the boat in a sector that could be 20 degrees. This is something that had never crossed my mind but I would surely not forget.

The sail through the morning to noon was swift and steady, on a beam reach and following sea. I replaced a cotter pin on that I had noticed missing on the inner forestay turnbuckle and did some repairs on the blue tape that seals the two halves of the life raft.

At noon we were at 27N02, 115W22, 52 miles from land, 295 miles out of Ensenada and 390 miles from Cabo San Lucas.

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Postcard from YOTREPS

Hi - Stephen here. This is Pachuca's current position. Just click on the image above to make bigger.

Every so often, you may want to click on
http://www.pangolin.co.nz/yotreps/tracker.php?ident=VNW5980

to see Pachuca's current location. Thanks Stephen

Wind At Last

At sunset we dropped all sails and lay ahull because the wind had totally died out. After dinner we turned in hoping that the latest grib file had been accurate and we could get wind that night.

Just before midnight I woke up to the low hum of the Rutland wind charger. The wind was from the SW at about 10 knots. Soon I had the boat on a starboard tack with the jib completely rolled out, aware that a soon ship would pass me only a mile or two off my starboard. Even though we were moving at over 5 kt I thought it worthwhile to raise the mainsail to better balance the boat and point more into the wind.

Raising the mainsil proved easier than I had hoped. The key was to patiently drop the lazy jacks and get them out of the way. After that it was a matter of letting out the boom and turning the winch to raise the sail at my leisure. I stopped at the first reefing point and after tidying things up we were on the move with Jeff once again doing the steering. By then Arnold was up and had a look at the situation. A cargo ship passed 3 miles to starboard bound for California.

Soon after Arnold went back to bed I noted that the apparent wind was creeping up to 18 and 19 knots and the boat was starting to pound into the rising sea. I have learned not to drive the boat on her ear for various reasons, so I rolled in the jib to a no. 2 to match the single reef and soon the boat was doing over 6 knots into a 22 knot apparent wind with relative comfort. The day's grib file had been correct with its prediction: 19 kt SW wind at about this time. The prospect was for the wind to steadily veer to the west the northwest and moderate to 10-15 kt during the next 24 hours.

I woke up just before the hourly alarm at 4 AM and soon decided to roll in some more headsail because it was luffing too much for my liking. There would be some spray flying around so I decided to play it safe and don my wet weather gear, boots and all. Within seconds of reducing the headsail from a no. 2 to about a no. 4 we got hit big time by a squall. It was a storm s scenario now, complete with 30 knot wind, seas that seemed to build up instantly, and torrential rain. I eased the mainsail regretting that I had not raised it double reefed instead of single reefed. All I could do then was to cower behind the spray dodger hoping that it would pass quickly. I was on the point of going on deck and putting in the second reef when I started to sense that the worst was over. Over a period of 20 minutes the rain eased then stopped and the wind settled down to 15-20 knots. A look at the chart plotter told me that the wind had veered 60 degrees because we were now headed SW instead of SSE. I had been too busy with the plumbing problem to get that weather fax as I had intended. That would have warned us of what to expect. Nevertheless I thank my lucky stars that I dressed properly and reduced that headsail just in time.

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Hard Day

This is 19 February, our second full day at sea.

My hopes of trying out the snuffer spinnaker were dashed this morning when the toilet blocked up. Arnold had told me that clean water had been backing into the toilet between flushes which indicated to me that there might be a problem with the joker valve, which allows flow out but not back in. When I went to the loo this morning I noticed the same thing. But soon after I got the toilet bowl cleared the pumping mechanism jammed up.

Fortunately I had had the foresight to get a toilet overhaul kit in San Francisco as a precaution against a problem much further down the track before I got back to Australia. We continued to sail only jib only while I did the "one hour" job of replacing the joker valve. When I took the mechanism apart I was surprised and disturbed to find no blockage, although the joker valve definitely needed replacement. Because I had not identified the problem I decided to do a complete overhaul of system, which involved taking everything apart and replacing every rubber seal, gasket, valve, etc. After about two hours the overhaul was done and my fears were confirmed when during the test the mechanism ceased up with a lot of pressure on the outlet side.

As I uncoupled the 38 mm outlet hose I could hear the pressure hissing out. There was definitely a blockage on the outlet side. I went under the sink to where the outlet hose is connected to the thru-hull fitting and had to saw the hose off, cutting off the remnants around the thru hull fitting with a Stanley knife. As I cut through the hose thick material that needs no description started to ooze out. The outlet was totally blocked up, with what turned out to be a mixture of scale, pulped up toilet paper, and - well - coloration. With the hose cut off I opened the valve of the thru-hull fitting and nothing passed from the sea into the boat. With some hard jabbing with a large screw driver I soon had the thru hull fitting clear with plenty of sea water flowing into the boat.

The outlet hose and the inside of the thru hull fitting were choked off by a scale that builds up in this type of plumbing - calcium, I've been told. The scale had reduced the cross section of the hose to under half. I cleaned the inside of the thru hull fitting with the screw driver and cleared it out by opening the valve so that the inrush of sea water would bring out the scale material. I then removed the hose (2.1 meters long) and took it to the cockpit where I did some serious GBH (grievous bodily harm) on the hose by slapping it against the gunwale and hitting it with a hammer to dislodge the scale.

Refitting the hose was no picnic but with Arnold's help, some baby oil, and luck we managed it.

The resulted tested out OK, although the system does not evacuate water from the bowl as fast as I recall. Maybe I am being fussy. Time will tell.

At 3 PM it was all over, including the cleanup. But I was tired, cold (because I had worked in T-shirt to avoid soiling my warm clothes), and hungry (I had skipped lunch.). I treated myself to a deluxe cockpit bath complete with shampoo, aware that a tanker about to pass 1.1 miles off our starboard and a cruise ship was about to pass 3 miles off or port. I managed to complete my ablutions in time to avoid reports of a rogue "streaker" boat to the Mexican authorities.

I killed the pain with two Heinekens, glad that Arnold had offered to cook dinner tonight. ("You'll have to wash too" I said.)

My "noon" report would be 5 hours late. At 5 PM on 19 Feb 2004 we were at 29N59, 116W40, 50 miles west of the Baja California coast and only 115 miles from Ensenada. During my toilet toils I could sense that the boat was moving well - over 4 knots according to Arnold. We could have done better but I was too busy to bring up the mainsail and besides the quieter the boat the better during this work the better.

As the great philosopher said, All Things Must Pass.

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Light Winds Out of Ensenada

Not long after dark we were approaching a string of boats - probably fishing boats - strung out in an arch across our path. We turned on the radar to make sure that there were no unlit boats ahead of us and adjusted our course 30 degrees to starboard to pass through a gap between the boats. We wanted to give the boats a wide berth lest we get tangled up in whatever nets they may have strung out. During this time I had been putting together the usual simple meal of rice, onion, and carrots this night mixed with chili beans. We ate in the cabin then I turned in at 9 PM while Arnold took the first watch.

I was up at 12.30 AM happy to see that our course was now almost due south and Arnold had managed to keep the boat moving well, doing at times 4 knots. However, at midnight the wind had died and Arnold had been holding the mainsheet trying to steady the flogging boom. I set up a preventer with a line passing from the boom through a snatch block that I had fixed to the toe rail then back to the port spinnaker winch, determined to do my best to keep all sail up until we got better winds after daylight. However at 2 AM I accepted that it was a hopeless cause, with wind under 4 knots - frequently down to 2.5 kt - and the sails flogging. I tightened up the lazy jacks, dropped the mainsail, then rolled in the jib. But we were not quite laying ahull. The autopilot that had been steering us so well in these light winds somehow continued to steer the boat and we were still moving SSW at 1 knot. Running under bare poles had cost us only 1 knot of speed.

At 2.30 AM we were 30 miles out of Ensenada but still 45 miles from the Bahia Colnett anchorage.

At 3.30 AM I noticed a slightly stronger wind and rolled out 30% of the jib to give us another half knot of speed. I hit the bunk and did checks every 90 minutes or so.

After morning coffee we decided to have a go at trying out the "snuffer" spinnaker - the one with a sock. I had never been game to try it but the circumstances were ideal for a trial: two men on board, wind under 5 kt, calm sea, and 23 miles of sea room. By the time we had read up on the procedure, I had set up the lines, and most painful of all dug out the spinnaker from the starboard sail locker which meant shifting most of the stores in the forecastle to the cabin, it was 11 AM and the wind sprung up to 7 or 8 knots so we hoisted the mainsail and were soon doing over 3 kt on a starboard beam reach. The spinnaker would have to wait until another day. Nevertheless we had done most of the preliminary work and would store the sail at the top of the heap in the forecastle for easier retrieval.

At noon we were 33 miles off the coast and still 38 miles from Bahia Colnett. Arnold and I agreed that even in the unlikely event that we could reach the anchorage before dark the overheads of getting there were too high. Besides, we felt so secure and comfortable in the calm sea that we saw little to be gained from spending a night at anchor.

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Departed from Ensenada

We had a pleasant departure from Ensenada Harbor.

Our plans were complicated by an unexpected opportunity. Peter was having his hull cleaned by a team using Hookah equipment and they asked if I wanted Pachuca's hull cleaned. The antifouling had been done in Port Townsend about 7 months earlier and it was in need of a cleanup. The job was done for $58 USD and I know that I will be arriving in the Sea of Cortez with a clean hull.

I had a go at finding the proper fittings for the new water filter but had no luck. Peter offered to drive me back to Home Depot and there I was able to do an exchange for some suitable fittings. Back at the boat I connected the hoses to the filter and topped up Pachuca's tanks with no problem.

Arnold in the meantime had done our laundry then took off on the bicycle looking for Corona beer and a few loaves of bread. He succeeded with the Corona but could not find in the short time that he had any place that sold bread.

It was 2 PM before Peter cast off our lines - two hours later than we had planned. He manhandled the boat out of the pen and used a line to pull the stern of the boat around so that we were facing out and ready to go.

After motoring out the harbor we put up the full mainsail and rolled out the entire jib to beat into 10 knots of apparent wind in calm seas. We had a splendid sail until shortly before dark when the wind had died down so much that we were forced to motor to get clear Cabo Punta Banda, a rocky spit of land. Once we were clear of that we turned the boat more to the south and tried to keep the boat moving on a beam reach with wind under 5 knots. It was going to be a long night of flogging rigging.

Our plan was to make for Bahia Colnett 57 miles south and drop anchor for the following night. It all depended on the wind.

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Cruise Ship

This morning we spotted this cruise ship on the other side of the breakwater.

Bus Ride

Yesterday we took a long bus ride at a cost of 8 pesos or 60 cents to the south side of town to visit Home Depot (would you believe) to purchase a water filter. The ride was a tourist experience in itself. It was great to be a small part of the daily life of the community (complete with a man with a guitar seranading the passengers for a small donation) and we got to see a wide cross section of the city.

Our destination could be called "Gringoville". There was WalMart, Home Depot, Applebeys, McDonald's, Burger King, Subway, etc. The place could have been in the USA except for the white sand dunes in the background.

We found a water filter which looked like it was designed for a kitchen sink. However, it had connections to which it looked like we would be able to connect hoses. However, I wanted confirmation which I got from a man at the service desk who assured us that connection to garden hoses would be no problem. Then Arnold and I went to the gardening section and selected some fittings that should work. However, the fittings were bound in plastic ties so we were not able to actually try them out. We purchased the lot, including 2 spare filters.

We didn't have time for screw ups so outside of the store we made sure that the spare filters were the correct ones. However, we could not free up the hose connections with our bare hands which turned out to be most unfortunate because when we got to the boat we found that the hose connections had a subtle difference in thread that rendered them useless. Andy told me of an Ace-type hardware that may help us out this morning. Otherwise we will put the town water directly into our tanks. Andy said that Ensenada water comes from a pristine reservoir up in the hills which is OK health wise but contains a lot of calcium that is best filtered out. I would like to get that filter working not for Ensenada but for further down the track where who knows what sort of water will be available.

We came back with two steaks from WalMart and cooked them last night over a charcoal grill overlooking the marina. We were joined by Peter, originally from Melbourne Australia, but really a citizen of the world. He is a marine biologist currently teaching in Calgary but flying all over the place on jobs. He plans to move to Seattle soon. He's got the 43 ft center cockpit boat next to us which he purchased in San Diego. He's been flying down regularly to check on the boat and plans to sail it to Seattle this summer, then across to Hawaii, then on to Australia. Sailing up the West Coast then from Juan de Fuca to Hawaii is doing it backwards with the prospects of adverse winds and current but he might get lucky. He'll need luck bucking the westerlies and the Pacific High to get to Hawaii, a task that most cruisers avoid by sailing down the West Coast to the Baja area then heading for Hawaii on the south side of the Pacific High.

I've put the bicycle together for a run to the hardware store. I'll try to bring back plenty of bread and maybe a case of Corona.

We hope to depart just after noon with the prospects of very weak winds for the next few days. Never mind. Sometimes I think that sailors know too much. We'll just go out there and start sailing. Even if the wind is weak it will be fair so there is the prospect of using the spnnaker, all night if we have to.

I've had a look at possible anchorages along the 600 miles to Cabo San Lucas at the southern tip of Baja California. Turtle Bay (AKA Bahia San Bartolome) 270 miles south at 27N40, 114W52 looks like an outstanding prosepect. But there are many other possibilties along the way which Arnold and I might try out if the winds and seas become very calm. I fretted to friend Barbara in Australia that we might have to spend some days at anchor waiting for good winds and she gave me a salutory reminder that relaxation and enjoyment is what it is supposed to be about. She was right: why do I keep falling into the trap of measuring cruising success by speed?

The first two photos are of the Marina offices and facilities and the well tended walkway along the water front. Our stay at the marina has been expensive but well worth it. Arnold overheard an old guy in the office yesterday trying to move his boat from the $30/day marina next door to this one. The surge was so bad that one of his thick mooring ropes parted. Security was so bad that somebody stole his chained-up outboard motor. They hit transients very hard here at $61 per day but we've learned that long term rates are very reasonable. In any event we are pleased with the security, quality of facilities, and the personal assistance that we have received here.

The next photo shows the people (lots of children!) lining up for yet another parade. It was Tuesday and they had had one just the previous Sunday. We were told that the Sunday one was to drive away bad spirits. We're not sure that yesterday's parade was about, but it doesn't matter - any excuse for healthy festivity will do.

We thought that the white building was a church but it is some sort of a public gallery.

The last photo shows Arnold doing is tourist thing along the north side of the harbor.

Formal Entry Completed

We began the day by visitng Jonathan at the marina office at 9 AM. We were going to pay for 2 nights' stay until he told us that there is a 3-day rate which would give us the third day for only $30. After some discusion we agreed to stay for three days.

Then Jonathan spent a full 30 minutes preparing us for the visit to the CIS to get our official permits, including producing photocopies that we would need and presenting us with a plan of the office with a step by step guide of which corner we should visit when.

We arrived at the CIS at 10 AM and jumped the bureacratic hoops the next 2 hours before we had all of the required permits. I must have presented my passport a half dozen times and made over a dozen signatures, as well as writing down the same information several times. Never mind, though. I am grateful that the government has set this one-stop shop (the first and only one in Mexico so far) that does away with the bad old days of running from one end of town to the other for a day or more. And the staff were very pleasant and professional. I now have a temporary import permit for Pachuca good for 10 years. The costs were moderate, which tells me that the Mexican government has not tried to turn this into a cash cow. The biggest cost was $658.34 which mercifully represented pesos and equated to about $50 USD. There were a couple of other items at about $200 pesos.

It was 1 PM when we were walking back and I decided to go into the town and find an ATM and some food to eat. I found an ATM at a bank and drew out $4000 pesos which was thoughtfully presented in 500, 200, 100, and 50 peso notes.

The I found a restaurant not too up market but above street vendor standard until I get a better feel of the culture. The lazy choice would have been to go to the familiar McDonald's, and a Japanese restaurant interested me. However, I would have considered eating non-Mexican food a travisty which I would have been ashamed to confess to the blog.

I was very pleased with my choice. It was a large, elegant and well patronized restaurant. There seemed to be waiters everywhere. I ordered a bottle of Sol beer then chose broiled fish done "Ranchero" style in the sort of piquante tomato based sauces that the Mexicans seem to love. I was presented with a gigantic heap of fresh nachos and dip to keep me busy while I waited for lunch. The lunch was a very generous serve of soft fish in the sauce, with side dishes of rice and tortillas. The meal filled me to the point where I was wondering how I would manage to walk back to the boat. The entire meal cost $120 pesos which translated to $9.70 USD, beer and all. As I walked out the waiter opened the door for me I gave him my thanks, glad that I had left him a $25 peso tip.

The climate is great, the food is bountiful with huge varieties of vegetables, fruit, and fish. Near Ensenada is the Guadalupe area that produces 90% of Mexico's wine. The people and the children look relaxed, happy and healthy

I think that I am going to enjoy this country Mexico.

I took the accompanying photos on the way back from the CIS. The first image is of Benito Juarez (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benito_Ju%C3%A1rez). The middle image is of Miguel Hidalgo (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miguel_Hidalgo_y_Costilla) The image at the far right is of Venustiano Carranza (http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Venustiano_Carranza, http://www.encyclopedia.com/doc/1G2-3404701149.html) whom from the distance I thought might be Leon Trotsky (Assasinated in Mexico in 1940 by an NKVD agent) .

At Ensenada Mexico

We tied up at at slip B23 at the Ensenada Cruise Port Village marina at 12.30 PM today after an overnight sail that went pretty well as planned.

At 11 PM last night we rolled up the jib and lay ahull because because the wind had dropped to below 5 knots. We saw no danger in leaving the boat unattended because we were about 20 miles off the coast but well to the east of the shipping lanes, so I abandoned my watch and hit the sack.

At 2 PM the hum of the Rutland wind charger woke me up. The Rutland is a valuable and reliable wind instrument. When it hums it tells you that there is enough wind for sailing. The wind had veered from NW to NE which gave us a good point of sail - almost a beam reach - and soon Pachuca was moving along at 4 kt. Jeff the wind steering did not like trying to steer the boat with a weak beam wind and only the headsail up - the sail plan was too unbalanced. But the autopilot managed the task very and we kept the boat moving for the rest of the night with a steadily diminishing wind. At 4.30 AM the wind was down to 4 kt and the boat was making 2.5 kt. First light found us 16 miles from Ensenada. I woke Arnold up at 6PM then Arnold took over the watch after buttered toast for both of us, and I hit the sack.

I woke at 8.30 AM to find us laying ahull once again due to lack of wind. At that point we were 13 nm from Ensenada. We decided to start motoring after I had a cup of coffee and just as well for the delay because soon Arnold reported a pod of at least 6 Orca whales. We got our cameras out and while I was at the bow I saw the white markings of two of the Orcas as they passed under Pachuca porpoise style.

Arnold noted that he had seen the new depth sounder report a depth of more than 150 meters. Should I attribute the enhaced perfomance to the new technology or the triple virgin olive oil in which the transducer is immerced? (Raymarine instructed to use antifreeze.)

Fortunately Arnold had made reservations at the marina and we knew exactly where we were going. After the usual minor dramas but no damage we tied Pachuca up, met Andy and Bob, a couple of retired characters from a nearby cruiser, then had a celebratory beer. Soon we went to the office to present our documents. Because this was Sunday we would have to return the next day to complete the marina formalities then visit the Mexican authorities for our various permits. I would also have to purchase Mexican boat insurance.,

We got the good news that we would be allowed to use the office Internet wireless facility, though we might be forced to work off the boat and near the office. But I was delighted to see that my modest little webtop computer was able to see the marina wireless network and I am able to tend to this blog, my email, etc from the comfort of Pachuca.

This is Sunday. We will probably complete all our formalities tomorrow and do whatever touring we can, then push on round Cabo San Lucas to La Paz on Tuesday.

We are certainly further south. The warm and sunny weather has me down to a T-shirt with plans to change change into shorts.

The top photo is of the "Jetty Express" bicycle folded up and ready for packing in San Diego. The next two are of some of the Orca whales. The last one shows Pachuca ready for entry: Mexican courtesy flag on one side, Quarantine flag on the other.

Splendid Departure from San Diego

We had a very good departure from San Diego.

I was up at 6 M to get a head start on the final tasks. I didn't mind getting up early because it would ensure that I was sleepy at my early bed time while Arnold took the first pre-midnight watch.

I wrote a card to a friend then left the premises to mail the card and to visit the fuel dock to check out the layout of the place and to plan our approach. By the time I got back to the boat Arnold was up and he joined me in some of the tasks.

I made a very modest adjustment to the upper end of the mast by backing the starboard upper shroud a modest one turn of the turnbuckle and tightening the port turnbuckle one turn. This was an attempt to eliminate a very slight bend of the mast above the second cross tree. I then checked the tension of the forestay and it looked fine to me, so I left it alone. It seemed unwise to tighten the forestay because of policy rather than physical evidence. If I see the forestay flogging while under sail I will take that as a definite sign that the forestay is too loose.

I telephoned Nancy at Port Townsend for a farewell chat and asked her to pass my regards to her partner Lynn.

Then I went walkabout and purchased a can of WD40 at Downwind Marine went on to the Seabreeze bookshop and finally West Marine where I found an international distress flag (orange with black circle and square). After reading Reanne Hemmingway-Douglass's "Cape Horn, One Man's Dream, One Woman's Nightmare" I could see the value of a distress flag in certain circumstances which I hope never arise. On the way back to the boat I had a last shower then visited the SDYC office to formally notify them of our departure and to hand in the plastic key to recover my $100 deposit. We folded and packed away the bicycle and placed the Zodiac in the cockpit. Arnold had filled the water tanks He retrieved the shore power electrical cable and I rearranged our lines for departure. I placed a farewell call to dear friends Jean and Burl in Port Townsend and we had a short chat.

We started the engine and backed out of the slip at about 12.30 PM. The fuel dock was only a few hundred meters away but as we approached it we could see a large launch at the jetty that I had scouted out. On the other side of the jetty there was an unoccupied red boat preventing an approach from that side. We started to stooge around in circles and eventually there was a queue of 4 boats waiting for the launch to clear out. After he cleared out we moved in far enough for the second boat to tie up behind Pachuca and use the outer pump. There I learned that the guy in the launch wanted a pump out, then gas, then water, then finally fuel, all at his leisurely laid back pace.

Anyway, we took on 10.7 gallons (22.6 liters) which represented a fuel consumption of 2.3 liters per hour. The fueling operation must have taken over one hour because it was 1.50 PM before we were on our way. As we were passing the SDYC I telephoned John and Priscilla and they told me that they had been watching us from their house all along. Arnold waved to them in case they were looking through binoculars. Soon my telephone rang and it was Brenda, Stephen, and friend Barbara who was visiting from Canberra. They must have woken up early in Fremantle and managed to telephone at the perfect time. I was able to describe the wonderful scene around us.

It was a crisp and brilliantly sunny day. There was a good wind and the entire bay and its approaches were teeming with sail and power boats of all shapes and sizes. It was an aquatic playground reminiscent of the Sidney Spit area of the Gulf Islands in Canada. What a contrast to our entry two weeks earlier across post-gale roiled and desolate waters.

We soon rolled out the headsail and found ourselves doing over 6 kt with the engine barely ticking over. Once we were clear of the shipping channel we shut down the engine and enjoyed magnificent sailing for the rest of the day. We were on a broad reach being pulled by the jib and doing over 6 knots initially. San Diego was fast receding and Tijuana was getting bigger. I struck the USA courtesy flag and raised the Mexican flag. The I set up Jeff the Monitor wind steering and we switched off the autopilot which had done a good job of steering us out. At 4.30 PM we were 1.3 miles west of Middle Coronado Island, well inside of Mexican waters and heading south at 5.1 knots. My plan was to cook rice with carrots, and onion, and chili beans. I would then have an early night and be ready for my post-midnight watch. If the wind held up we would reach Ensenada soon after daylight.

At 7 PM just before serving dinner Arnold and I were pleased to see that the new depth sounder had read to a depth of 117 meters before ceasing reporting depths, as we crossed over the continental shelf to depths of more than 1300 meters. 117 meters is not bad for an in-hull transducer.

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Almost Prepared for Departure

John picked us up at 1 PM and took us to the Immigrations and Customs office in the city where I obtained the boat clearance for Pachuca. We must depart San Diego within 48 hours after the issue of that clearance.

Along the way we paid a quick visit to the maritime museum where I took a photo of the square rigger that played HMS Surprise in Master and Commander and other ships.

We visited John and Priscilla for a dinner of scrumptious barbecue spare ribs and potatoes baked to perfection, accompanied by a pretty good bottle of 2005 French red and a bottle of Russian River chardonnay. I found it difficult to say good bye to them. They have been great company and generous and kind beyond words. Perhaps I will see them when they cruise the South Pacific on their boat Rebbecca. Arnold is more fortunate because he has good prospects of seeing them again either here in San Diego or more likely at his home in Kingston.

We plan to depart tomorrow (Saturday 13 February) in the early afternoon to catch the afternoon wind. We intend to sail all night in order to reach Ensenada, 60 miles away, during daylight. We expect calm seas and light but favorable winds.

Tomorrow morning we will try to find time to do a bit of rigging work and then I will visit the SDYC office to notify them of our departure. We will then top up our water tanks, pack away the folding bicycle, move the Zodiac from the foredeck to the cockpit, stow the shore power cable, and prepare our lines. On the way out we will fill up our diesel tanks with about 40 liters of fuel.

The last photo is of John in front of the Master and Commander ship.

Repairs

This morning I had unexpected success in the repair of the chain locker lid and latch. The heavy rolling during those gales on our trip to San Diego resulted in the lid being forced open with a resultant loose strip of teak on the latch edge of the lid and the brass fitting into which the latch tongue fitted being ripped out of the teak.

This morning I thru-bolted the loose strip of wood and drilled two holes at the top of the brass fitting so that it is thru-bolted through a thick layer of material. I replaced the two screws that had been ripped out with longer ones to give the fitting more stability.

The result is, I think, stronger than the original.

The second photo shows the result or the repair effort.

The blue rope passes through shackles at the toe rails and firmly holds the lid in place in case of heavy rolling or worse.

The other photos shows the dismantled 50-lb Swarbrick fisherman's anchor and rode of 12 meters of chain and 80 meters of white rope.

Depth Sounder Installed

Today Arnold and I completed the installation of the Raymarine ST60+ depth sounder. Today's task was first to thread the wiring from the communications locker behind the navigation station to the instrument panel above the companionway. This required removal of part of the cabin ceiling. Then we had to unscrew the display panel and replace the defunct Brooks & Gatehouse water speed display at the extreme right with the new ST60+ display.

The hole for the B&G instrument was too small for the new display so we telephoned John to explain our problem and see if he could help us with some tools. Within 30 minutes he was at the gate with a jig saw, hole cutters, and various hand tools; and while he was at it he loaned us his truck for the afternoon. It was the jig saw that solved our problem. We managed to lay the panel flat across the companion way while the other instruments were still connected and Arnold held the panel down while I did the jig sawing.

We fitted the display, connected it up, and it began to function as soon as we powered up the chart plotter. We then replaced the panel on a good silicone seal, calibrated the unit, and I reorganized the chart plotter to display vessel position, heading, course & speed, wind direction & speed, and depth.

We started up the Navman depth sounder while the new Raymarine unit was working and we discovered that they do not play nice with each other. The Raymarine continued to accurately report depths of about 4.5 meters while the Navman was reporting depths of over 100 meters, We shut down the Raymarine sounder and restarted the Navman and it then worked fine.

We will sail with the Raymarine depth sounder because it will report the depth situation at the navigation station, which will be extremely useful. It also has a handy facility for setting minimum and maximum depth alarms when at anchor. The Navman will be our backup sounder.,

The first photo shows the new chart plotter display at the top. The navigator can now see a comprehensive situation picture from his station.

The second photo shows the new depth sounder display at the far right. Note the big numbers for these frail 66 year old eyes. Next to it to the left is the Raymarine wind display. Next to that is the backup Navman depth sounder. Next to that is the defunct B&G wind speed display. At the far left is the man overboard alarm base station.

Fridge Failure

When we arrived in San Diego the refrigerator was working so well that it would freeze beer at half thermostat setting.

During our first few days here we went on a shopping spree that included several packages of frozen meat which included plenty of those sausages that we like for breakfast.

Then the beer was not as cold as before. I attributed it to the warmer weather of San Diego but did not turn up the thermostat because it is so difficult to get to in its position below the starboard quarter berth. Then the meat went off freezing. We threw out the chicken and I cleaned up the bottom of the fridge and hoped for the best. Things got worse and three days ago we were forced to throw out all of the meat and I had to once again clean out the fridge compartment.

The day before yesterday we got into the compressor/thermostat section and could see that although the compressor and exhaust fan were working normally the tubing of the heat exchanger was cool, at room temperature. We concluded that the system was not extracting heat because once again the gas had leaked out.

After at least 10 visits by Doug in Port Townsend to repair the unit and a total replacement of the evaporator and expenditure of hundreds of dollars by me, my reaction was to give up and totally replace the system in Australia with a more powerful unit that is much more efficient because its heat exchanger is a box outside of the hull in the water, mounted with a simple thru-hull fitting.

However, after a few days of reflection I have cooled down even if the fridge hasn't and will have somebody look at it in Mexico if the opportunity arises because it could be a leak that can be easily fixed. The amount of gas required for the system is minimal.

In the meantime Arnold has suggested that we cool the beer by immersing it in sea water in a net bag. We don't see a big problem with the food because of modern dehydration and vacuum packing techniques. Besides, we'll have plenty of fresh fish to eat, right?

Rat's Nest Wiring

My friend Victor showed me a photo of what he called rat's nest wiring in his 1930's wooden gaff rigged "Chiquita". Compared to my setup I would call Victor's more of a mouse nest.

This is a photo of the wiring of Pachuca's master panel. It represents 27 years of additions, removals, and changes. Many of the removals were unfinished in that this boat still has redundant wiring that I hunt down and remove at every opportunity.

I've got to be realistic and concede that it is unlikely that I will ever totally rewire the boat, although I'll probably attack it piecemeal.

Anchor Windlass and Depth Sounder

MONDAY

On Monday morning Arnold and I visited the foredeck with the simple plan of moving the anchors, chains, rope, back into the chain locker. While the area was still empty I asked Arnold to turn on the anchor windlass power switch in the cockpit so that I could test that the syatem was working by stepping on the foot switch at the bow. It didn't work. "Now why did that not surprise me?" I remarked.

We spent the next two hours systematically checking each section of wiring and both switches. The result reduced to: (1) Arnold proved that the winch, motor, and solenoid were working correctly by supplying 12V directly to the solenoid, but (2) Although the normal wire to he solenoid showed 12V on the multimeter, the voltage plunged to near zero when it came in contact with the solenoid, at the same post that we had used in (1). We had changed two sets of connectors in the process and noticed lots of corrosion in the multi strand wiring, which was not tinned to marine standards, so Arnold's best theory was high impedance (resistance) due to corrosion in the wiring.

The cockpit anchor winch switch is a convenience that comes at some significant costs: (1) The cockpit toggle switch is exposed to the hazards of rain and sea water (2) A long cable run is required between the forecastle and the cockpit, with sections running in the bilge (3) Diagnosis is a pain because the difficulty in accessing the cabling and cockpit switch. To access the back of the cockpit switch we must spend 30 minutes emptying the quarter berth.

Arnold's suggestion that we move the cockpit switch to the forecastle started a discussion that has resulted in what I think is a good plan. There is a second switch panel that I installed on the forward cabin bulkhead that currently has 6 free switches. Our plan is to move the switch to that panel, resulting in a much shorter run across much more benign terrain than the bilge. We plan to used proper marine grade tinned wire.

We also plan to change a curious anomaly of the current wiring. At present one of the wires to the foot switch is always "hot" because it is from the battery positive terminal. The foot and cockpit switches are used to close the circuit. It did not seem to me a very good idea to have a permanently active wire regardless of the setting of the boat's master switches in an area subject to total flooding with sea water. What a perfect medium for leaching out power and probably ruining the anodes. Arnold redesigned the circuit and it will be the "hot" wire that will pass through the switch panel, meaning that when that switch is off there is no electric power at the foot switch on the chain locker.

I don't see a big problem in having the anchor winch switch inside the cabin rather than at the cockpit. I usually know when I will be using the electric winch. In any event it does not take much time to dash into the cockpit to flip the switch. The advantages justify the move.

TUESDAY

We started off the day with a visit to Downwind Marine for the wiring (marine grade 12 AWG), connectors, and some shrink tubing that we did not used. We spent the rest of the day inplementing the plan that we had put together on Monday. I ran the wire from along the upper stringer of the starboard side, drilled a hole to pass it into the area behind the drawers. I then drilled a hole from the wet weather closet on the other side into the area behind the drawers and passed the cabling to the back of the switch panel inside the aft bulkhead of the wet weather closet. We left a loop of 3 ' of cabling behind the drawers. At dusk we tested the system by crossing the wires at the foot switch and everything worked fine. However, when we connected the wires to the foot switch we could not get the windlass to turn. This was consistent with Arnold's previous finding using the multimeter. I removed the foot switch and disassembled it.

The foot switch is a simple affair: There is a short metal rod held up by a spring. When that rod is pushed down by somebody's foot it forces a stainless steel washer across two posts made of brass, thereby making the connection. The entire thing is protected by a flexible rubber cover. When we took the switch apart we discovered that one of the brass posts and the area of the stainless steel washer above it were hopelessly corroded with thick layers of bright green corrosion. However, mechanically the switch was in sound order, which was not surprising since I had replaced it in New Zealand.

As darkness fell Arnold went to work cleaning up the switch while I made the cabin habitable again by restoring everything to starboard quarter berth. Then I dashed out in the night for a couple of foot-long Subways ("Phillie for Arnold, Roast Beef for me).

WEDNESDAY

It was raining. Too bad, but the show must go on. Arnold had done a great job on removing the corrosion and had reassembled the plunger part of the switch. Inside the cabin I put the rest of the switch together using Silicone sealant to back up the rubber seals. The switch looked like brand new. During a lull between the showers I dried out the wood around the foot switch opening with paper towels as best I could then laced it with rubbing alcohol hoping that it might somehow chase out more water. After another bout of drying paper towels I used the 3M sealant to bed down the footswitch. Two of the 3 screws were stripped so I replaced them with the next size up. We connected the foot switch and it worked beautifully: turning windlass with minimal pressure of the foot.

The rain returned just after I finished that job so we turned our attention to the new Raymarine ST60 depth sounder. There were precise instructions on how to use their patented transducer housing to achieve the correct vertical angle of the transducer. However I could see right away that there was a gross oversimplification: that the hull of the boat simply angled toward the keel in a "V" fashion. In that section the hull also slopes up toward the bow.

I would need a spirit level. I was sure that I had packed a short 6" level with my tools but try as we might we could not find it. I was making preparations to walk to Downwind Marine to see if they had one when Arnold suggested that I call John. I left a message for John and within 5 minutes he called back. He had a 2' level that he knew would be too long for working in the bilge. However, he had a line level that we could mount on a short piece of wood. Ten minutes later I met John at the club gate and he presented me with the line level and several short lengths that might be useful for supporting the line level. That line level with the short piece of aluminum bar turned out to be perfect for the job.

It took me well over an hour to position the transducer housing at the correct angle. If I began by aligning the base athwartships as instructed when I rotated the upper part to yield a vertical angle on the port-starboard axis I would get a result where the transducer would be pointing too much forward. Once the base was set at other than athwardships rotating the upper part would change both angles at the same time. The trick was to find the correct combination or orientation of the base upper part. Working in the dark confines of the bilge in an exotic position worthy of a Yoga master made the job harder. Eventually I had the angles with the floor of the bilge appropriately marked.

I then retrieved the plastic battery case that holds my fiberglassing materials and was pleased to find everything there: epoxy resin, hardener, thickener, acetone, some fiberglass matting, etc. In the paint supplies container I found masks, disposable rubber gloves, brushes, mixing containers, etc. (Finding what you need when you need it is the payoff to sailing around the planet with the entire stern of the boat crammed with parts, tools, and materials worthy of a small hardware store.)

I sanded the target area then cleaned it with acetone while preserving those indispensable pencil marks. Then I mixed the epoxy and got on with it. After the transducer housing was satisfactorily bedded down I took the remaining epoxy and visited the chain locker. I filled in a neat round drill hole about 3/8" in diameter that I had discovered in the roof of the chain locker on the starboard side. This may be the remains of an earlier cable run but it was without a doubt a choice candidate for the pathway of the big leak that we had discovered during the previous week. When the boat is beating on a port tack (heeled to starboard) water could easily slosh into that corner and find its way into that hole. By then the expoxy was curing fast but I managed to seal several other minor but suspicious areas. (I play to treat the rest of that area with Sikaflex of 3M 5200 sealant.)

It was dark by the time I finished tidying up the boat and I was exhausted and hungry, probably because I had eaten only one slice of bread all day.

Fortunately Arnold did the catering that night. It was too rainy to go out for food so the did a nice rice 'n beans with carrots and an onion. Since he had cooked I started to wash but he said that he would do that too. While he was washing our port tank ran dry which meant that we no longer have to drink and cook with colored water. (The green rice looked strange.) Arnold finished the washing job using a container of emergency spare water.

I was so tired that I amazingly gave up a chance to watch Jay Leno and was in the sack at 7 PM.

The accompanying photos are of the partially disassembled foot switch, the new hand switch in the cabin panel (marked "anchor winch"), and the transducer base epoxied in place. The last two photos show the finished product with the level on both axes: spot on athwartships, slight bias forward.