SAILING CAMELOT

We depart at 9:30, leaving behind Mazatlan, the luxurious El Cid Marina with its wonderful pool, and a bunch of Iguanas that are probably wondering where’s that strange creature that fed them lettuce and tomatoes every day…

We’re headed to La Paz, ideally. In reality, the wind and sea conditions will ultimately decide our final destination. After a few calm
hours of peaceful motor-sailing the wind picks up. Of course it comes from the wrong direction, right on the nose, no good for sailing; excellent, however, to make the ride pretty uncomfortable. We soon abandon our feeble attempt to sail by the wind, it’s pushing us to Cabo San Lucas or Hawaii, but not where we need to go. On comes the engine.

It remains like that for the rest of the long haul to Baja California. Actually, it gets a little worse: the wind increases in speed and viciousness, so much so that even our powerful engine struggles to maintain a decent speed. After a few hours of riding the “Water Rodeo” Tom decides to divert for Ensenada de Los Muertos in order to get a slightly more comfortable ride. So what if we’ll be delayed…

Traveling on a bucking bronco is no fun and very tiring. I find it quite impossible to stay awake for long, so we adopt the 3 hours on-3 hours off routine and both get some rest. The full moon is of some comfort, I busy myself watching the traffic on radar, but honestly it’s still pretty miserable. The bow of the boat keeps either plunging in the waves (is Camelot trying to snorkel?) or bashing on top of the waves with much noise and shuddering. Poor Camelot! It feels like she’s on the StairMaster, occasionally missing a step and going down on her face. I try not to think of the war-zone we’ll find in the cabin later on…

I’m surely not my chirpy self. Not even my junk food helps, no amount of chocolate and potato chips improve my mood. Tom, bless him, is calm and collected, resigned to endure this mess. He’s just puzzled about the weather prediction that called for much calmer winds and seas. Oh, well. Such is life on a sailboat.

With the long night finally behind us, we welcome daylight and slightly calmer conditions. Soon we also “welcome” sightings of fishing nets. At least these are marked by big white foamy floaters, which would be pretty visible if the birds didn’t rest on them! We’re both tired and admittedly not terribly alert, so we both get a jolt of adrenaline when we pass one of these floaters not three feet away. We sure didn’t see it until it came under our nose! It could have been a messy inconvenient, but there is a God who looks
after tired sailors, I can swear to that.

Finally at 16:30 we arrive in Ensenada de Los Muertos. After such a rough trip it feels like getting a hug from a loved one. Paradise found! We throw the anchor, settle down, eat a quick and early dinner and then we both turn in for the night. We’re safe, the
boat is fine, the bay is calm. We both get one of the best night’s sleep on record.

Emphasis on the “should”… The weather is calling for some strong winds and uncomfortable sea conditions, just when we planned our crossing of the Sea of Cortez. I guess we’ll stay another day… We could be going anyway, but if waiting one more day gives us the chance for a better and more pleasant crossing, why not?  To the hard-core sailors smirking at our laid-back style (and there are a few) I say: we’re in no hurry, we have nothing to prove, and most importantly “It’s My Bubble and I Won’t Burst It!”  The Sea Of Cortez can wait one more day.

Now, let me go rummage in the fridge some more, I’m sure there’s something in there that the Iguanas might like…

I can honestly say that I started the day in anticipation of feeding the Iguanas… What can I say, I sorely miss a pet! It’s so nice to have animals to spoil, even reptiles. Besides, these guys are amazing. They’re intelligent, a little shy until they get to know you –then they’ll even let you pet them, closing their eyes enjoying the cuddles. Even during the feeding frenzy they remain calm while stomping on each other, never becoming aggressive. We counted 24 today. I never thought in a million years that I would be cooing to iguanas… But here I am! Another new and satisfying experience…

C'mon Kids, it's Feeding Time!

Come and Get It!

After a night of good, solid, uninterrupted sleep, the first thing our little heart desires is an oversized mug of coffee. Well, not this morning! Our precious, faithful, airline-style 3 yr old coffee maker gives up the ghost. There have been a few warnings lately, but this is unexpected. And I finally realize I’m a caffeine addict, with withdrawal symptoms, mood swings and all… So off I go to the nearby luxury hotel, a short walk away, returning triumphantly with two steamy coffees. As soon as we’re totally awake, we’re going to Walmart to get a household coffee maker… Yes, there’s a Walmart close by… Yes, even in Mazatlan, Mexico. After this necessary errand and some boat chores, it’s back to the pool for us!

Local residents

We’re amiably chatting with vacationing people and residents alike. One of the residents, Earl, comes by the pool every afternoon around 15:00 armed with a bagful of lettuce, tomatoes, fruit and bread. He sits in a corner and is instantly swarmed by at least 30 Iguanas of various sizes and ages, all eagerly awaiting his treats. Just like dogs, but much better behaved! 

I'm Green and Proud of It!

Such a Poser!

I’m thinking of some wilting lettuce and slightly less than fresh tomatoes that I have in the fridge…

We enter Mazatlan waters around 8:00am; another hour takes us to the entrance of El Cid Marina, where we’ll spend a couple of days. Upon arrival we find surfing waves breaking right in the middle of the narrow channel. Tom quietly decides to take a bold approach,  gunning the engine to keep better steerage and shooting in the channel like a bullet, getting Camelot smoothly and safely in the channel. Captain Tom didn’t even break a sweat, although he later admitted to being “mildly concerned”… Me, well, never mind… It’s over. I’m just glad he knows what he’s doing.

We’ve been assigned a very nice and spacious end-tie at the dock, strategically perfect for its proximity to one of the pools. We’re tired and sleepy. After the check-in formalities with the Harbor Master we make a bee-line for the pool. If we have to snooze, why not belly-up in the sun, right?

And that’s pretty much how we spend the rest of the day.

Marina El Cid - Dock A

The Iguana Pool

It’s 8:00am and we’re anxious to get going. We’re having coffee and chomping at the bit, but leaving earlier than noon would put us in Mazatlan far too early and in the dark –not advisable-. So we fiddle-fart around, until we both can’t take it anymore… At 11:30am the anchor comes up and we’re gone. Good-bye Jaltemba!

It’s an easy and relaxed trip; there’s no danger of whales -as they’re at their summer feeding grounds in Alaska or thereabouts-, but we still keep a good watch as usual. Not much to see, just a few medium-sized rays and the occasional tiny flying fish, a few fishnets to avoid. We manage to get enough wind to sail, between 14 and 18 knots. It’s exhilarating, we’re making good speed! That is, until the wind decides to clock around and blow straight on our nose. Bummer… But it sure was fun while it lasted.

We read, we chat, we eat, take turns sleeping, the usual stuff. We enjoy yet another amazingly spectacular sunset. I’ll never get tired of Nature’s daily show! An almost-full moon provides quite a bit of illumination for a while. It’s an uneventful night, no traffic, no sightings.

Mexican Fire

Picasso doesn't have anything on Nature!

This is our first post to the LOG via Ham Radio. Unfortunately, the radio modem is slow, VERY slow. For those of you that remember back in the 90’s when we all had dial-up modems operating at the amazing speed of about 1400 kbs and thinking we were high tech… Well that is the speed we are operating at through the radio modem. What it does allow us to do is update you on our location and highlights of the trip, but no pictures. Those will be added once we get to Mazatlan.

We are currently anchored in Jaltemba, Nayarit, Mexico, about 35 miles north of Puerto Vallarta and the jumping-off point for Mazatlan. This is mostly a tourist area, frequented by Mexican and other Spanish speaking people. The beach is lined with palapa’s and hotels, of various colors. The bay is large and calm, with a large island just off shore. This morning the bay was filled with fishermen and their famous boats, the Panga. It’s really pretty out here, we’re the only boat in the Bay. Tempted as we may be, it’s been decided to skip the customary dinghy explorations due to our limited time.

Our night on the anchor was calm, but it will be a little while before we get used to the ever present noises that occur when the boat is gently rocking on the waves.

After staying in La Cruz for exactly two months, we departed La Cruz on May 9th at 10:30 (Local). Lori said that her “nesting instinct” was starting to kick in and if we stayed any longer she would have started to look for a place to plant flowers, cook huge meals and entertain friends Things that make her happy on land! But it’s too soon to think about that, many more places to discover and more adventures to be had. We made wonderful friends in La Cruz and look forward to returning on December.

The trip from La Cruz to here was uneventful, passing through the narrow channel around Punta Mita at the north end of Banderas Bay and then onto Jaltemba. The total trip was about 37 nautical miles by water and took about 5.5 hours motoring the entire distance, with either winds on our nose or too light to sail. The currents were in our favor though and we averaged well over 7 knots. Along the way Lori spotted several groups of Manta Rays and flying fish. The whales are gone to their summer feeding grounds and it makes things a little quiet but easier without them.

We are now in a new time zone, Mountain Time I think, which is one hour ahead of California.

Today, at about 11am local we will get underway again for Mazatlan. The trip is about 150 miles and should last a little over 22 hours. Of course this will take us through the night and past Mexico’s version of Alcatraz, Islas Maria Madre. This is a maximum security prison colony holding some of Mexico’s most notorious criminals. There is a five mile restricted zone around the island with Naval Patrol boats standing by ready to intercept anyone who strays too close. Needless to say, we will be giving this island a wide berth. We will stay pretty close to shore at about 10 nm and hope there will be enough wind for sailing.

Once in Mazatlan, we have reservations at the Marina El Cid, a combination boat harbor and luxury hotel. The nice thing about this place is you get full hotel privileges while staying at the Marina. So I suspect there will be a couple of days lounging by the pool drinking cold ones. We will be in Mazatlan for three days and then cross the Sea of Cortez for the Baja peninsula and La Paz.

Thu Apr 28th

Rest is okay, but there’s something about too much rest that makes me sick. Even Tom can’t put up with me being confined to boat-arrests any longer! At this point he’s worn out by my tantrums so much that he agrees to take me for a stroll in the village.

The Semana Santa (Holy Week) is on its tail-end, the weeklong Easter festivities almost over. It is, however, the beginning of the weeklong celebration of Santa Cruz, the Patron Saint of this wonderful town. Yes, two back-to-back weeks of crazy, noisy, colorful celebrations! The carnival arrives in town; all the rides spread out and find a spot in the village, clogging the small streets and blocking most accesses and exits. We’re under siege!

The strangest part of these two overlapping weeks is the sequence and intermingling of celebrations. For the Semana Santa, religious traditions and celebrations are the main attraction. It starts every day at 6 in the morning with twenty very loud petards fired up in the air to alert the villagers that Holy Mass will start in about an hour. At 7 am, another loud bang to signal Mass has started. Between 7 and 8, the sound of religious hymns and melodious chanting reaches the Marina. I’m surprised I even hear them, what with my ears ringing and all… At 8 am, a final explosion to signal that Mass is over. Then it remains quiet for the rest of the day.

At 6 pm, 10 loud bangs signal that in half an hour the Holy Procession will leave a small church on the opposite end of the village. The noise is earsplitting and terrifying. The village dogs go crazy, the unsuspecting tourists run for cover, we plug our ears. The locals just smile smugly. Half an hour later, another loud bang announces the start of the Procession. It will sneak its way thru the village, pass the Plaza and reach the church at the other end of the village. Tom and I sit on the low wall that borders the Plaza, surrounded mostly by local families and wide-eyed kids gathered to see the Procession.

Leading the Holy Procession - Bring some "zing" to devotion!

At first we hear sirens: of course there’s a Police car leading the way, clearing the non-existent traffic. Behind the Police car follows a dozen or so young ladies in Aztec costumes with majestic headdresses made of peacock feathers dancing to the hypnotic rhythm of just one drum. They all have many tiny wooden bells attached to their ankles producing a surprisingly harmonious melody with every movement. After this group comes a pick-up truck, dressed up as a shrine with a priest in full regalia and two children all bandaged up -all of this in the pick-up bed-, to depict a scene of healing though prayer. A small mob of parishioners follows the shrine-on-wheels, chanting and praying. Closing the procession is a group of religious cheerleaders in a different costume, the team “Danza Guadalupana”, sporting the Virgin of Guadalupe embroidered on their black velvet cape. 

Religious Cheerleading at its best

Great Cape! I wonder, does it have Magic Powers?

We follow the procession to the church’s gates. At the church entrance the parade splits in a very orderly fashion. The dancers enter the church, the truck-shrine parks on the side, the parishioners take their seats and the last group of dancers enters. The traditional Catholic chants start, merging with the sound of the drum that is still leading the girls’ dance. Slowly and backwards, the dancers exit the Church, bowing to the altar; their movement subdued, their footsteps softer, until they’re all out in the church’s front yard. Mass starts. This last part was the most surprising mingling of sacred and pagan rituals I have ever witnessed!

Exiting the Church and leaving the Catholics to their own devices

The Procession is repeated every night, each time with some small variation. Last night, for instance, a marching band in full white and gold uniform followed the dancers, trumpets lending a much more festive note to the leading drum. I just wish I knew more about the meaning and tradition of it all, as it sure is very picturesque and deeply touching to watch.

Unfailingly, at 8pm another long series of loud explosions signals the end of Mass and the beginning of debauchery.

The last petard is still up in the air as the carnival rides open, turning on bright lights and loud music to attract the eager public. This cheerful chaos will go on in various degrees of noisiness until about 4 am. Two hours after this, the whole circle starts again.

Santa Cruz, protect our ears!

This is the religiously-themed background of the Open-Air Disco

Wed Apr 27^th

I’m feeling more and more miserable, what I thought was another simple head cold turns into a burning fire in my throat and chest and a plethora of other unpleasant symptoms. I’m a little worried, Tom is positively terrified. A good friend takes me to the local Government-run Clinic, just a short distance from the Marina.

Immediately I am seen by a young, very polite, English-speaking doctor. His assistant takes all my vitals and I get subjected to about 40 minutes of very thorough examinations. I’m amazed that he even spotted the remnants of an old deep-dive injury in my right ear, something that two of my USA doctors denied ever existed, even after my pointing it out… So I feel pretty confident this young guy knows what he’s doing.

 He diagnoses a throat infection, prescribes a week-long course of antibiotics, ibuprofen, and cough syrup. And the worst punishment: three full days of total rest. He’s adamant and unmovable: I am to do nothing but lay down for at least three days. That is really close to capital punishment for me. But since I feel like crap, I’ll comply. Besides, Dr. Ordaz looks too cute and solemn. I’d hate to disappoint him.

I go to pay my medical bill. By now I know enough Spanish to understand, yet I ask the nurse to please write down the amount; I’m sure I heard incorrectly! She gives me the official receipt and the total comes to 66 (sixty-six!) Mexican Pesos. Including the antibiotics! That is equivalent to about US$ 5.50. I am totally shocked! Then it occurs to me that this is the way it’s done in all the foreign countries I ever lived in and most of the ones I traveled through. Only in the good, old USA do we get to pay thru the nose… And I’ll rest my argument right here. God knows, enough people who heard the story discussed the American healthcare system problems into the wee hours of the night. I thought I started a riot…

Tue Apr 26^th

We leave Jaltemba early this morning; it sure feels less joyous traveling backwards when your original plans directed you forward. How do shrimps do it, day after day? But, such is the nature of cruising.

A few hours later we arrive back to Marina La Cruz and tie up at the exact same slip we left just 2 days ago. Of course we spent a good length of time repeating our troublesome story to all the people we know at the Marina. The phrase “I thought you left!” must have been heard by our weary ears a couple thousand times… But it’s good to see that people were genuinely pleased to see us again. And we were missing for only a couple of days!

Immediately Tom gets in touch with Richard of Vallarta Chandlery, who will be our saving grace in fixing our problem. Over the next few days ensues a flurry of testing, troubleshooting, head-scratching, phone calls to tech-support, brainstorming. Poor Camelot looks like a war zone inside! Like on most boats, the vital systems are buried deep inside the hull, covered with many spare parts stored right on top. There’s barely room to move around, we feel a little claustrophobic and more than a little crabby. It’s going to be a very long week, I can tell.