Ilha de Paqueta (2S59.586, 044W24.465)

At 4.30 PM I began my Sailmail session through Chile at 13.8 MHz and got the best throughput in two weeks. I was sending out at an average of 1750 bytes (characters) per minute and receiving and around 800 bytes per minute. That was about 5 times the speed that I had managed to achieve only 2 days earlier. I liked to think that cleaning the Dynaplate had something to do with it, but only time would tell.

Then I got another surprise the slow trickle of boats departing from the anchorage became a stream that went on into the night at at 8 PM there were only two other boats left, on the far side of the bay. This surprised me greatly because I would have expected most of the boats to stay until Sunday.

The night was peaceful with the wind coming from the west but never at more than 5 knots. At breakfast time it was blowing at less than 1.5 kt over the masthead.

Navigable Gap Between The Islands

Approaching the Beach

Looking Across Isthmus

Weekend Boaters Enjoying Paqueta

I had selected for the next anchorage one of two islands roughly 5 miles to the north, Ilha Itanhanga and Ilha de Paqueta. The two islands were like twins in shape, like dumbbells, though one was bigger than the other. They were both orientated NW-SE, with anchorages on the north side of the narrow portion in the middle. Both islands offered the same prospects for protection and comfort, so my plan was to visit the SE one (Paqueta) and if it looked too crowded for my taste I would proceed to the NW one. I would take a "safe" route which would make the distance to be motored 10 sea miles. The morning was as usual misty but it looked like it would be a sunny day.

The trip went well under a sunny sky and on a calm sea. I decided to save 2 miles and take a more challenging route that would put us in a gap between underwater obstructions about 400 meters wide and it turned out to be good practice for me. As I left the anchorage I saw a sail boat approaching from the SW but they changed their mind, turned around and headed my way. They passed close 30 minutes later and we waved to each other. It appeared to be a charter boat and the skipper seemed to know his way around because he took an even more challenging route.

I dropped anchor at 10 AM on the north side of Ilha de Paqueta (22S59.586, 044W24.465) in 6.5 meters of water over what appeared to be a sandy bottom. I almost passed by to try the other island. The few fishing and power boats did not bother me because they would be closer to shore that I would be, but there was a sailboat anchored in what appeared to be the middle of the tiny cove. But as I passed I could see that the boat was actually close to the SE side of the cove so I decided to motor in and try my luck. I dropped anchor slightly off center and toward the NW side of the cove, and probably a bit farther in that ideal, but it appeared that I would have plenty of swing room with the 25 meters of chain that I let out. The other sailboat was the one that had passed me up earlier, and we waved to each other. The wind was from the south at 7 kt, coming in between the small beach at the head of the cove. The anchorage gave me wind protection on an arc from NW-W-S-SE but the islands that were very close to the open end of the cover actually resulted in 360 degree protection.

The cove was unbelievable picturesque. Motoring in I saw the interesting gap between Paqueta island and the adjacent one, Itanhanga, good enough for adventurous small boats to pass between the vertical rock walls. On the right was the NW half of the island, reaching a height of maybe 250 ft, seemingly all granite rock with deep green vegetation growing wherever it could. Ahead was the low sand beach with palm trees growing on it. Past it I could see past it to the water on the other side of the island. On each side of the beach was a building or two. Then to the left was the other part of the island, reaching maybe 150 ft up. Lining the cove were two fishing boats to the right and all of the rest power boats.

In the afternoon I did some fundamental work on the depth metrics. I had noticed on the passage from MdP that the depth offset was set to 0, meaning that the reported depth was being measured from where the transducer is located. This would give me a shallow reading which might be good as a safety margin but was distorting my computations of ratio of anchor rode to depth. Rather than estimate the depth of the transducer below the level of the water I dropped the hammer tied to a calibrated cord to see the actual depth. The difference between the reported and actual depths was a remarkably low 0.5 meters. I applied the offset and the reported depth went from 6.5 meters to 7.0 meters. For calculating the anchor rode ratios I needed to know the distance from the roller to the bottom. I measured the roller to be just under one meter from the surface so I would call it a meter. So at that moment I had 25 meters of chain out from a distance to the bottom of 8 meters, giving me just over a 3:1 ratio. I can put out a maximum of 35 meters of chain, suggesting I should not drop anchor at any depth over 11 meters. (Yes I know, in a serious wind that ratio will have to go up to 5:1 or 6:1 or even higher. That's where the longer rode of 95 meters would come into play.) I left the shallow alarm setting at 3.0 meters. I would have preferred 2.7 or 2.8 meters but I had a choice of 3.0 or 2.5, and 2.5 puts the keel only 4 or 5 inches from the bottom.

The afternoon sun got very hot and the cabin temperature was at 28.5C (83F). I consulted Bowditch and saw that we were 27 miles north of the Tropic of Capricorn, in what is called the Torrid Zone. The sun during its annual journey will at some time be directly overhead between the two "Tropics" at 23S27 and 23N27. Even that summertime oven La Paz Mexico is outside of the Torrid Zone (Just!). I noticed that people in the boat ahead who had enjoyed lying in the sun for hours were looking red like lobsters.

At 4 PM there remained only 8 other visiting boats in the cove. The wind was still from the south at 4 knots and I was looking forward to another relaxing night.

Before dark I would prepare for my arrival at the Bracui marina, which was less than 3 sea miles away on the other side of Ilha Das Palmeiras a mile to the north. I would put out the fenders and get the light mooring ropes ready. I had a good satellite image of the marina but other than knowing the name of the manager (thanks to Pato), I would not know where to go until I got there. I would attempt to hail the marina on VHF 16 hoping that I would be able to speak with someone either in English or my rudimentary Spanish. But nothing succeeds like success. I figured that if I had managed to hook onto a marina mooring when arriving unannounced at Ilha Bella in the dead of night, an entry in clear and calm daylight conditions should be very do-able.

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