SAILING CAMELOT

We enjoy the quiet bay for another couple of days. It takes a very uncomfortable night of high swells -and the rolling and pitching that goes with it- to pry us away from Ensenada El Pescador. Just three miles up there’s another bay, Bahia Quemado, better protected from winds and swells.

We get there and make ourselves at home in less than an hour. There are only two other sailboats anchored in this spacious bay. I’m happy to see that there’s a nice stretch of white sand beach, an expand of desert beyond the beach, a few spectacular little coves hidden in the rugged rocks, and a multitude of birds. Perfect!

Bahia Quemado

The Desert beyond the Beach

We end up staying here about a week. We socialize with our neighbors, swim, read, explore. We are visited often by wandering dolphins, timid turtles, curious seals, and two big whales.

This is NOT a shark fin...

Wait a minute. WHALES? I thought they all left for Alaska for the summer, we haven’t seen any since last March… But I’m told that there are a couple of different kinds of whales that prefers to spend the summer in the neighborhood. Good, I better resume my high-alert watches when we start travelling again!

This is what I could see of a Fin Whale... and it was BIG!

The two whales come in the bay a few times, usually in the morning, quiet yet massive presences that make me slightly apprehensive when they gently swim close by the boats.

At sunset we get another show of Devil Rays jumping high off the water, slapping back with loud noises that sound like loud hand-clapping. These incredible animals have carved a special spot in my heart, so I hope you’ll forgive my obsession with them. I have 614 pictures of them in less than an hour, and it was really hard to pick just a few of the best ones to show here. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

At night, in total darkness, I hear seals whooshing close by, whales blowing in the distance, coyotes howling and barking up in the surrounding hills. Quite a cacophony that somehow sounds like music to my ears! In the inky night the pelicans keep fishing, incessantly bomb-diving all around us. How can they see their pray in the darkness remains a mystery to me…

The next morning we spot a couple of young and playful coyotes roaming the beach. Could these two be the ones responsible for last night’s ruckus? It sure sounded like they were having fun…

Coyote on the Beach

Coyote at play

Today we took an extensive tour of the bay on our dinghy. While we’re returning to our boat we see a large Navy ship in the distance, easily recognizable by its characteristic blue-gray color and ominous shape. These vessels have a way of looking quite intimidating. The ship is moving at a very slow pace while a sizeable boat is being launched from its stern. Within second a big white plume of water can be seen behind this boat, signaling high speed and a predetermined destination: our bay! We’re not alarmed, but nevertheless decide to pick up our pace and try to reach Camelot before they do. Pointless exercise, as these guys are moving very fast. The Navy Patrol Boat zooms past us, so close I can see the uniformed crew armed to their teeth, their grim faces staring ahead. I offer a friendly wave that remains unacknowledged and unreturned. They leave us in their wake as I lower my waving arm with a disappointed shrug. Fine, whatever… Tom tries to explain their countenance. “They’re working, honey. They don’t know yet if we’re just friendly tourists or dangerous drug smugglers. Cut them a break and stop pouting!”.

There are three other sailboats close to ours; by the time we reach Camelot the Navy guys are already boarding one of our neighbors, their expression unreadable. We observe them, trying not to be too obvious about it, waiting for our turn. They must be conducting a pretty thorough search, as it takes them about half an hour to finally come to us. Tom is on deck, friendly as usual, welcoming them to our boat. The boarding maneuver is interesting and a little hair-raising. The pilot, a stern looking guy in aviator mirror sunglasses, points the bow of their boat directly on Camelot starboard side. I’m wondering if he intends to T-Bone us… With great skill he hovers at about an inch from our boat’s hull, allowing the inspecting official and his assistant to effortlessly step aboard.

Boarded by the Mexican Navy

Bienvenido a bordo!” hollers Tom to the startled soldiers. Ha! I guess they were not expecting such a warm welcome. There are 12 young guys on the Patrol boat, every one of them (excluding the pilot) pawing an assault rifle, ready for action if needed. I repress a sneeze; you really don’t want to startle these guys…

I guide the officer in the cabin and let him roam around to his heart’s content. I offer him our paperwork, passport, visas, boat documentation, insurance papers –would offer him my first-born if I had one!-, but he curtly declines while he keeps inspecting every corner of my floating home. Not a word is spoken for a long while. Finally satisfied, he cracks half a smile (could that really be?) and steps up to the cockpit where Tom is waiting. Out of nowhere he whips out a clipboard -seriously, dude, where did you hide it?- and starts asking questions in very good English (why am I no longer surprised). Tom answers each one, since he’s the one being addressed.

The usual: what’s your name, where do you come from, where are you going, how long have you been here, when are you leaving, do you fish and if so do you have a license, and so on. Questioning over, he asks us both to sign a document bearing our name and the boat’s name. I didn’t have time to read it, not even a line of it, so we may have signed away our boat for all we know…

Mexican Navy Guys

Ready to take off

Formalities completed, he –FINALLY!- opens up in a wide and friendly smile, introduces himself as Fernando, wishes us a pleasant stay in his country which he hopes we are enjoying so far, and even consents to my request of taking a picture of his boat and crew. Wow! Talk about an instant transformation! As Fernando and his sidekick leave Camelot, stepping gracefully back to their vessel, the whole crew lightens up. Smiles, greetings, arms waving –as much as the rifles allow them to-, they leave us to go to the next sailboat. You’d think they just left a great party, so happy they look! Tom murmurs in my ear “Good enough for you?”. Yeah, I say, now I like them better.

The Navy guys leaving Camelot

Off chasing the Bad Guys

We wake up to an overcast sky and a slightly choppy anchorage. Pretty as this cove is, we’ve made up our mind to move, to go find more protection from the wind. We cross Bahia Las Animas and just 8 miles further up we land in yet another picture-perfect bay: Ensenada El Pescador (Fisherman’s Cove). We find quite a different scenery, here: a nice round bay with a small island in the middle (Isla Rocallosa) and a white sand beach with a few deserted palapas. Looking at this Bay from a certain angle, it reminds me of a perfect donut! Why do I always think of food… Anyway, the water color is amazing and so clear we can see the sandy bottom. Anchor down! To celebrate life -or just because I’m hot and sweaty- I dive in as soon as Camelot is settled, for once beating Tom, who’s right behind me with his signature whale splash.

El Pescador Beach

This will be home for a few days.

Isla Rocallosa

Sunday Morning we take the customary dinghy tour, circling the little island, annoying the pelicans. We round the northern corner of the bay, admiring the rock formations and truly irritating a large family of dozing sea lions we didn’t expect to find . We came up on them as they were laying belly up, fins sticking out of the water, snoozing the day away. I dig out my camera; this would be such a funny picture! But I have no chance to take the shot, the whole group suddenly moves as one unit and starts swimming in our direction.

The Angry Mob!

The shiny, round heads all pointed towards us seem so cute, until we realize that they’re swimming fast, they outnumber us, and they can jump!

The Ring Leader

Suddenly they seem less cute, some seem curious, others a little aggressive, so we take flight. The aggravated bunch abandons pursuit after we round the corner. Whew! Crisis averted.

Artistic Rock Formations

We move slowly towards the beach, wanting to take a closer look at these few new-yet-abandoned-looking palapas.

Deserted Palapas

Not a soul in sight! We spot one larger bungalow with beautiful teak tables and chairs and looking closer we see a man waving at us. There’s life! I yell my friendliest Hola and would be content to just leave it as that, but Tom as usual decides he needs to go meet this man and have a chat… We beach the dinghy and walk the short distance to the bungalow, noticing a very impressive and enormous whale skull neatly arranged beside the house. There’s also a neat row of light poles all along the beach, and they’re solar-powered!

Whale Skull

For some proportions perspective, skull against house and generator

Solar Powered Beach Lights!

We reach the house and the man –apparently in his sixties- is now sitting on a chair, his right leg propped up on a table. He welcomes us, apologizes for not standing (his leg is bandaged up and obviously injured), and introduces himself as Ramon. We exchange pleasantries, apologizing in turn for “invading” his property. He waves away our apologies, says he’s happy to have some visitors and invites us to sit down.

Ramon tells us that he is the caretaker of this private cluster of small bungalows and gives us a little information about the bay. The buildings are owned by a wealthy businessman from Caracol who rarely comes here. His last visit was during Easter’s Holy Week, when he brought his large family for a vacation. The solar-powered light poles were installed about a year and a half ago. Ramon is a little lonely and eager to talk; he explains that he gets food and supplies delivered by boat every week, but ran out of cigarettes and batteries for his radio. Have no fear! -I think to myself- You just met The Man Who Travels With A Hundred Packs Of Cigarettes and The Woman With Boxes Of All Sorts Of Batteries!

Tom offers him a cigarette and hand-signals him “just a minute”, before running to the dinghy where (I knew it!) he has a spare pack of cigarettes. In the meantime Ramon is apologetically telling me he has nothing to offer me, his supply boat comes on Tuesday and he’s out of most anything. I tell him not to worry, that I’m fine, but he keeps rummaging until he comes up with –of all things!- a small and well worn Bible. As politely as I can, I tell him that he doesn’t need to give me anything and I don’t want to take the Bible away from him. Tom returns and hands him the pack of cigarettes, Ramon is very appreciative. We chat some more, the rest of the conversation basically one big apology for our mutual inability to speak each other’s language very well. But, surprise, I get instead quite a bit of compliments for my Spanglish! There is hope, after all… We leave him after a short while, promising to be back tomorrow with the batteries he needs.

 It’s now Aug 1st , we’re still in Bahia El Pescador, enjoying the peace and quiet. In the morning we notice a big group of people laboriously raising small tents on Isla Rocallosa. Having nothing better to do, we observe the activities for a while, guessing the nationalities of our new neighbors. Basing our guesses on the degree of their tan and their hair color, we decide they must be Canadians! They’re too skinny to be Americans I think… Tom declares that he must go speak with them. “There’s people!” he exclaims “I must go talk to them!” . True, he hasn’t had a decent, English-speaking conversation in over a week, and I guess my company gets old after a while… But before going to bother the campers we head to the beach to go see Ramon and bring him a pack of batteries.

Ramon has company, but he welcomes us like old friends regardless. He thanks us profusely for the batteries and enthusiastically installs them in the radio –which from then on will blast news and music uninterruptedly-. His three visitors are part of the group gathered on the island. We meet Mike, Adrian and Basilio.

Mike and Adrian explain that they are marine biologists and that the young people on the island are college students mainly from California, twenty-seven of them. Americans, not Canadian! We were wrong after all… The group is based in Bahia Los Angeles Village for the summer, and today they came to Rocallosa Island for a snorkeling trip to see up close a few of the species they’ve been studying in books.

Basilio is one of four local residents in charge of the boats carrying the students; in fact there are four big pangas beached on the island, patiently waiting to ferry the group back to the village after the excursion.

It’s a very pleasant visit, so pleasant that we don’t notice the rapidly rising tide that floats our dinghy from the beach and carries it away at sea. Thanks to the watchful eye of Basilio, who raised the alarm, we see the dinghy slowly but surely getting far and farther away. Tom jumps on his feet ready to swim to the rescue, but kindly Basilio offers to give him a ride with his panga to go claim the wayward dinghy. Good thing, as it would have been quite a long swim!

The Runaway Dinghy

Dinghy recovery completed, we head for the island to go meet and greet the college students. What a great group of people! They’re all very friendly, all of them studying to become Marine Biologists and every single one of them totally enthralled to be in one of the best spots on Earth to study marine life. Tom strikes a conversation with their professor, Ray, and gets the scoop on what they’re doing. I’m surrounded by a small group who wants to know all about living on a boat. Most are incredulous upon hearing that the beautiful (and only) sailboat anchored there is for all intents and purposes our home. Jaws drop as I explain that this is our way of life and not just a short vacation, and that we have everything we need aboard, including air conditioning and even a washing machine, among other things. The girls are intrigued by the washing machine and curious about our kitchen and shower arrangements, the boys are impressed by the watermaker, the generator and the electronics. How typical!

We invite them over to take a good look, but their professor is shepherding them towards the water. It’s time for them to go snorkeling. And so we part, with the promise of meeting again in Bahia Los Angeles in a week or two.

Tom is happy and satisfied (having gabbed for a good hour) and we’re both ready to go back to Camelot for lunch and a good afternoon of reading, swimming and generic cruiser-living.

Sun setting in Ensenada El Pescador

On the morning on Tom’s birthday there are THREE coyotes on the beach, all very wisely walking in the water, cooling off their paws. We spend quite some time observing them, before we decide we’ve seen enough of San Francisquito.

Tres Amigos

Coyotes on the prowl

In no hurry we look at our map; picking our next destination, we pull up the anchor and leave. We choose to travel a short distance, today. Bahia de Las Animas (Bay of the Souls) is 38 miles up, should take us about 6 hours. There’s not enough wind at departure time, so we turn on the engine.

We’re traveling between the Baja Peninsula Coast and the many island scattered in the middle of the Sea of Cortez. Every island has an individual name, but as a group they’re called the Midriff Islands. The body of water between the coast and the island is called Canal de Salsipuede. Sal Si Puede literally means Leave If You Can. As we travel north in the Leave If You Can Channel, the name suddenly makes a lot of sense. Plenty of vicious currents swirl the water in every direction, confusing both seas and sailors. Every now and then we cross a current line, where the sea is flat and we get a temporary respite from the push and pull action. Later the wind shows up, if only for a short time, so we raise the sails for a while and let Camelot run free. Half way through our trip the currents subside, the wind goes to blow somewhere else, the sea gets flat, the sails come down and the engine comes on.

I take advantage of the calm and slip down below, muttering something about stuff to do. What I am up to, really, is to start preparing Tom’s Birthday Cake… Mind you, I never baked a cake in my life (Tiramisu’ doesn’t count). But my friend Donna from the sailboat Salonah gave me this foolproof, simple recipe for a good cake and I intend to succeed –or get splattered while trying-. I do my preparations in stages, so Tom doesn’t really know what I’m doing. Stage One: prepare the batter, show up in the cockpit for a little while, disappear down below again. Stage Two: pour batter in pan, shove in oven, return to cockpit. I’m not sure how long I can keep this up, Tom is looking at me funny…

A little over an hour later I have produced a nice Focaccia Bread (as a decoy!) and a very plain-looking, nondescript cake. Tom is getting suspicious; I can’t hide the wafting aroma of baking, so I admit to making the focaccia but keep mum about the cake. Besides, I think I’ll need to make some custard to liven up my first experiment. I need more time, dammit! It’s not easy to keep secrets on a boat… I decide to interrupt my secretive baking activities and return on deck for the remainder of the trip. Tom is still looking at me with a puzzled expression…

For the last hour of this trip (that I know of, since I was engaged in illicit baking activities down below) we’ve been escorted by pods of dolphins, their festive antics a warm welcome. With one last flip of tails, one final jump-and-spin, they take their leave.

Peekaboo!

Better than Marine World!

Showtime!

We spot our little refuge at last, one of many small and very pretty coves in this region of the Sea of Cortez know as Bahia de Las Animas. This little cove has a big name: Cala Puertocito de Enmedios.

We’re the only “tenants”, so we pick the best spot, right in front of a colorful canyon. The imposing Sierra Agua de Soda range (Soda Water Mountains) towers over the anchorage with its characteristic antique-rose color, providing a great backdrop against the emerald green waters. There are a few rocky islets on each side of the cove and a number of birds flying about. Yes, another corner of Paradise.

Soda Water Mountains

The Colorful Canyon

As soon as we’re settled in, I let Tom relax while I finish my secret cake preparations. The blasted cake seems too bland, even with the custard (bland as well), so I end up squirting chocolate syrup all over it (cheap trick) and call it quits. I have my doubts about the results, but I’m counting on the element of surprise…

Later we enjoy an early dinner and eventually the pitiful result of my efforts and good intentions is unveiled. It looks like something the cat dragged in, but Tom (ever the true gentlemen) is impressed and very appreciative nonetheless. I have to admit, it tastes better than it looks!

After dinner, as a special Birthday present for Tom -and possibly a reward for my sweaty laboring- we get to enjoy the most spectacular show: a group of Devil Rays delight us for over an hour with their acrobatics, jumping out of the water, shooting many feet up in the air, twisting and turning before slapping loudly back in the water.

Devil Rays Airborne!

Somersault!

Ta Daaahhhh!

To end the day, we’re treated to a truly perfect sunset.

Happy 51^st, Tom! You don’t look a day over 40, you handsome devil…

Sunset

Dock lines are untied at the ungodly hour of 4:30 in the morning. Quietly Tom steers Camelot out of the Santa Rosalia Harbor while I busy myself pulling up the fenders and tidying up the lines on deck. I take a few seconds to silently offer my thanks to this quaint little town and its people for their hospitality.

Carrying the two biggest mugs I own, filled to the brim with strong coffee, I join the Captain in the cockpit and inquire about our upcoming trip. It’s about 78 miles to our next destination, Bahia San Francisquito, more or less a 13 hours stretch. It’s black as liquid ink all around us now, the lights of Santa Rosalia fading as we move further away. Not a lick of wind, flat seas. We settle down, chit chatting and sipping coffee, trying to get rid of the grogginess. We are not used to get up this early anymore! As I wake up I start noticing here and there a few lights in the distance, fishing vessels out to do their job. Slowly the sun comes up in all its glory and kaleidoscope of colors and I tell myself that I should really get my ass out of bed this early more often.

Morning Commute Traffic

At around 8 o’clock peace is disrupted; the wind starts to blow, the sea builds up. Well, good morning to you, too, Mother Nature! Cranky, today, are we… So much for the weather forecast that predicted no wind… Where did this monster-wind come from??? At the first sign of breeze Tom had already raised the mainsail and we’re now unleashing the headsail, trying to harness in all the wind power we can. Soon we’re slashing through the sea at 8.2 knots, a more than respectable speed for our fat-bellied, overloaded Camelot.

We continue sailing at a sustained pace for a few hours, despite the waves coming in big rolls on our starboard side. It’s a rolly ride, but Tom’s grin gets wide and wider as he tweaks the sails trying to squeeze out one more tenth of a knot. Maniac, I think to myself… Once a racer, always a racer… But it sure is nice to sail this fast!

The exhilarating ride lasts for about three hours and then the wind, temper tantrum over, suddenly disappears. Ok, engine on and we motor in calmer seas for a while. During the course of the trip we raise and douse the sails a couple more times, following the wind moody appearances. By the time we arrive to our destination, Tom is beat and I’m pretty whipped, too.

San Francisquito

Bahia San Francisquito lies in front of us in all its simple splendor, cactus and desert scrub bordering the pebbly beach. We quickly make ourselves at home and soon enjoy a relaxed dinner. It’s going to be an early night, we’re so tired!

As soon as it gets dark Tom turns in for the night, while I read just a few more pages of my book, comfortably splayed in the cockpit, enjoying the light breeze. Twenty minutes go by.

I’m so engrossed in my thriller that my brain doesn’t register the faint engine noise in the background. I don’t even truly notice this small boat making slow loops around our boat, until I hear a loud “Hola!” and finally snap out of my bubble and raise my head. Sure enough, about fifty feet from me, there’s a boat with a big spotlight on and it’s circling Camelot! As I yell “Hola!” back, I suddenly realize:

a) The only thing I’m wearing are my reading glasses

b) Good grief, are those men ARMED???

I fly down the stairs to the bedroom calling Tom, clutching the first rag I find to cover myself up and grabbing a flashlight. Startled and sleepy, Tom gets up in a flash at my mention of “armed guys” and we both return to the cockpit. In the 10 seconds it took for all of the above to happen, the small vessel has closed in and is now leaning against the port side of our boat.

It takes Tom’s practiced eye a split second to see that the guys are wearing uniforms, to notice the “Ejercito Mexicano” sign on the side of their boat, and to determine that we have nothing to fear. I, in the meantime, am considering blinding them all with the mega-power flashlight in my hands…

It’s a group of eight young men, all smiling and very polite, all carrying some sort of rifle across their chest.

The group’s leader quickly explains that they’d like to do a swift check on our boat, so as Tom consents I start opening the side “gate” to let them up. But three of the soldiers are already aboard, having quickly shimmied up the side commando-style. Well, ok then…

Tom defers communications to me, so I wave the leader in and escort him down in the cabin while Tom tries to chat with the other soldiers.

I turn on all the lights I can, so that this young soldier can take a good look around. He’s extremely polite, but he’s wearing a very serious expression on his face. He tells me “please don’t be alarmed, we’re soldiers of the Mexican Army and we routinely patrol this region. We just want to make sure there are no illicit goods aboard your vessel”. Then he proceeds to ask me where we came from, our last port of call, our next destination, how long are we staying here, all the while walking around, opening and closing cabinets and cupboards. His right hand never leaves the rifle, which makes me a little nervous.

Suddenly Tom hollers from above to toss him a few Cokes for the fellows (leave it to Tom to make instant friends with the Army), so I mindlessly start digging under the dinette table to get the drinks while I keep talking and answering questions. Now, that seems to make my pal nervous and he shifts his rifle just slightly with his palm, following my every movement. I slowly draw the cans out of storage and show them to him, offering one. Visibly relieved, he declines. Completing his assessment, he decides we’re no threat either and finally cracks a friendly smile. He introduces himself as Armando, apologizes for the inconvenience and tells me to please call him on the radio if we notice anything strange going on, or if we need any help. I ask him where to find them, just in case. He vaguely replies “we’re around, just call us on any marine channel, we’re always listening”. And with that he climbs back to the cockpit and back to his small vessel. The other guys who were aboard leave Camelot in one fluid move.

With plenty of smiles, thanks, waves and goodbyes, they finally leave. The whole deal took all of ten minutes.

Wide awake now, Tom and I sit and comment on what just happened. We both agree that, after the first few uncertain moments, we actually felt reassured by the presence of the Mexican Army. Rifles and all.

The next morning, as we sip our coffee and stare at the beach, we notice a lone coyote walking the whole length of the small bay, occasionally stopping and sniffing the air, the ground, even the water. How strange! But it is desert terrain out there, and we did hear them yelp and howl late into the night. I’ve never seen a coyote before, much less on a beach!

Lone Coyote

We spend a few hours thoroughly exploring our surroundings by dinghy, discovering a tiny cove on the side of the bay where –surprise!- the small Mexican Army contingent has set camp. Tom immediately decides to go visit the guys, so we beach the dinghy right in front of their barracks.

Mexican Army Camp

Army Vessel, complete with Guards

 But there’s absolutely no one around! Just a couple of small boats tied up to a dock, a few well-worn small buildings, a skittish, skinny cow that disappears as soon as we set foot on the shore. Totally deserted, no sign of the boys. We leave pretty soon and slowly return to Camelot, after taking my customary hundred of pictures of everything surrounding me: birds, rocks, lighthouse, caves, giant cactus.

S. Francisquito Lighthouse

The incredible beauty of the rock Osprey on Cactus