Southbound again
Thanksgiving was quickly approaching in La Paz as evident by the holiday decorations being erected on the Malecon and the gradually cooling nighttime temperatures. Last season we were having such a good time and the weather was so great in La Paz we decided to stay past Thanksgiving despite warnings that the weather changes around then. Sure enough, they day after Thanksgiving the norther’s started up and the sea temperature plummeted to the mid to low 70’s and we found ourselves stuck in the marina between wind storms until nearly Christmas. This year we pledged to ourselves to head south before Thanksgiving no matter how much the weather tempted us to stay.
We had planned to depart La Paz very early Saturday morning and make it to Ensenada de los Muertos the first night, then head down to Los Frailes just north of Cabo second night, then across the sea to Mazatlan and from there continue south to Isla Isabel and finally La Cruz. The plan was set and by Friday morning the courses were plotted and I was at the computer downloading updated weather forecasts while the morning cruiser’s net cracked in the background on the VHF radio, “…and just a reminder tomorrow is the Saturday market and we’ve heard that the Sausage Ladies will be there this week.”
“Sausage Ladies!” Kristin exclaimed.
“That figures,” I snorted with the realization that our departure plans just went out the window.
When cruising there are many things that can delay a departure. High seas, bad winds, unfavorable tides, equipment failure, delayed repairs, and the long-anticipated return of the Sausage Ladies to the Saturday Market.
Kristin had been going to the market every Saturday since arriving in La Paz this season looking for the Sausage Ladies and her amazing authentic German sausages and sauerkraut without success. It went without saying that we had to come up with an alternate plan so that Kristin could stock up on some sausages before departure.
“Ok, so we can’t make it to Muertos before dark if we go to the market in the morning, so let’s leave around 11 and head to Playa Bonanza on Espiritu Santo, then we’ll have an easy day to Muertos, then we cross to Mazatlan directly from there. The crossing is a bit longer, but the weather still looks good. The wind might be a bit better later anyway,” I offered.
“Sounds great!” Kristin replied. Can’t wait to get some of those sausages!
Admittedly the later departure simplified our plans to top-up the fuel tank mid-day as we departed, so it was a win-win.
Refueling at Marina Costa Baja 
Hasta luego La Paz 
Until next time 
Motoring toward Isla Espiritu Santo
After our last-minute provisioning and a stop at the fuel dock, we had a leisurely afternoon motor for 19 miles in calm conditions up to our first stop an Playa Bonanza on the south east side of Isla Espiritu Santo. This gave us one more opportunity to enjoy the natural beauty of the island from another anchorage we had yet to visit and gave us an easy start to get down to Ensenada de los Muertos which was then only 42 miles to the south.
Playa Bonanza provided very easy anchoring in a large open bay and good protection from the westerly Coromuel winds. As was forecast that evening the westerlies picked up and while Sonrisa’s wind generator whirred in the breeze we were spared from the wind waves and chop by the protection of the island and got a good night’s rest.
The following morning we got a relatively leisurely start to Ensenada de los Muertos at 8:15 AM. The evening Coromuels had subsided and we were once again motoring in calm conditions to our next stop. We took turns at watch throughout the day as we took advantage of the calm conditions to do things around the boat while underway. We took advantage of the clear water and abundant electricity produced by the engine to run the watermaker for the day to refill our tanks from our long stay at the marina. I even was able to catch up on our La Paz posts for the blog.
In the afternoon the winds did freshen just enough to get some sailing in.
While underway, the dolphins finally made an appearance and we got an escort into Ensenada de los Muertos.
Ensenada de los Muertos
By 4:30 we had arrived in Ensenada de los Muertos with full water tanks, an up-to-date blog, and dinner prepped and ready for the grill.
Just as I was getting ready to fire up the grill I heard someone call from an approaching dinghy, “Hey, Sonrisa!” It was our friends Jessica and Bram from our sistership S/V Coddiwomple. We first met them last year during the Nada Ha Ha passage south from San Diego to Cabo. They were crewing on another boat in preparation for making the trip themselves this year. They were on their way to shore for dinner but it was nice to finally see each other in-person again after a year of following each other’s blogs.
After dinner we got a few hours of sleep, then at midnight we all woke up to pull the anchor and start our fifth crossing of the Gulf of California to Mazatlan, a day and a half and {miles} away. The sea was calm and there was no wind, so we started our passage motoring under the moonlight sky. We each did a short 2 hour watch after getting underway for the remainder of the first night. After my watch it was time for the 7 AM Amigo Net on the marine sideband radio. I checked us in as a “vessel underway” reporting our current position, outbound and inbound destination, people aboard and local conditions. No sooner did I finish my report when another vessel abruptly broke into the conversation.
“Break, break, this is Jake with traffic for Sonrisa.”
“Go ahead Jake,” the net controller responded.
I snapped to attention as it was very unusual for another vessel to break into the normal flow of check-ins and while we know Jake as a regular on the Amigo Net, we rarely get called for traffic.
“This is Jake for Sonrisa, how do you read?” Jake called ahead.
“Sonrisa here. I read you loud and clear, over,” I replied.
“I understand you’re inbound for Mazatlan. There’s a vessel ahead of you, Angelique of Vancouver, who reported on the Sonrisa Net that they are without an engine and are trying to make it to Mazatlan. They’re about 100 miles out but have been becalmed for days and they’re concerned about their solar power being enough to keep the radios on. Can I give you coordinates to be on the watch for them in case they need assistance?” Jake asked.
“Roger that. We’re only about 50 miles out so they’re probably a half day ahead of us. We’ll divert and be on the lookout. Go ahead with the coordinates.”
Jake relayed the coordinates as I wrote them down and repeated them back to him for confirmation.
“Roger that, thanks for helping out.” Jake replied.
As the rest of the morning net proceeded, I punched the last reported coordinates for Angelique of Vancouver into the chartplotter on the iPad. Amazingly their coordinates were within a couple of miles of the next waypoint on our course. We wouldn’t have to divert at all as we were literally on the same course for Mazatlan which kind of makes sense if we both started at Muertos, but still remarkable given all of the variables.
After the net ended I returned to the cockpit to report the situation to the rest of the crew.
“We’re going to make a slight diversion,” I said as I copied the updated coordinates into the iPad at the helm. “Angelique of Vancouver is about 50 miles ahead of us without an engine and had been becalmed for the last few days.”
“Oh God…” Kristin gasped.
“They’re worried about losing electricity and they may need some help getting into Mazatlan. We’re going to head to their position and try them on the VHF and make sure they’re ok. If nothing else we’ll let them know we’re near and can at least assist with communications.”
I felt our passage take on a bit more urgency than before. Although everything is probably fine, if tiresome and uncomfortable, onboard Angelique of Vancouver. I was sure they would appreciate knowing someone else is nearby.
The calm conditions persisted the rest of the morning as we motored toward Mazatlan. By early afternoon, however, the breeze started filling in and we were able to sail. The wind was a light to moderate 10 to 15 knots, but the northwesterly swell make the passage somewhat rolly. Unlike our first passage of the season, however, Kristin and I were much more acclimated and tolerated the conditions much better, even if it was still difficult to sleep.
That afternoon we arrived at the waypoint we diverted to that morning. Since the wind had filled in I was sure that Angelique of Vancouver was finally making way to Mazatlan and would still be ahead of us, but I figured I’d try the VHF anyway.
“Angelique of Vancouver, Angelique of Vancouver, Angelique of Vancouver, this is sailing vessel Sonrisa” I called.
“Sonrisa, this is Angelique of Vancouver,” a voice immediately crackled over the radio.
“This is Sonrisa, we heard from Jake on the Amigo net that you were engineless and becalmed out here. We just wanted to let you know we’re probably 25 miles behind you also heading to Mazatlan. How are you doing?” I called.
“Much better now, thanks. We’re under sail and finally making way to Mazatlan. We were struggling with no wind the last 3 days, but we’re doing well now.” came the reply. “We still don’t have much charge on our batteries with all of the clouds, so we’ve been turning our radios on and off to conserve.”
“Ok, roger that. Just know that we’re here and let us know if we can be of any assistance,” I replied.
“Thanks for that. It’s actually really great just knowing someone else is out here with us. We’ll check-in periodically on the VHF when we have it on.”
“Roger that. Sonrisa standing by.”
I checked the chartplotter and saw Angelique of Vancouver briefly appear while their radios were on.
We checked in a couple of times and compared our ETA’s for Mazatlan. We were planning on a 9 AM arrival to catch the slack high tide to make it easier to get across the bar into the marina channel. We were still tracking to a 9 AM to 10 AM arrival and Angelique of Vancouver planned to do the same.
Late that night we contacted Angelique of Vancouver again on the VHF.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“Not so good. We were worried about arriving at Mazatlan in the dark so we been hove to. It’s pretty rolly and now we’re smelling diesel in the boat.”
“I’m showing our ETA at around 10 AM. You can’t be more than an hour or two ahead of us now. I think if you can get underway again we’ll arrive around the same time,” I offered.
“Yeah, we’ll do that. Let’s stay in touch as we approach Mazatlan.”
We continued on under sail throughout the night. I relayed the latest report to Kristin and Kellye and reminded them to keep a sharp watch out in case we catch up to Angelique of Vancouver in which case we’d slow to match their speed.
With the dawn we saw the outline of Mazatlan slowly appear over the horizon though the marine layer haze. We could see Angelique of Vancouver’s AIS on our chartplotter and we could see that we were closing the distance between us. Unfortunately as the sun rose, the wind faded and we watched the chartplotter as Angelique of Vancouver struggled to make way again. By now we could see her mast on the horizon and Mazatlan was frustratingly close – a mere 8 miles away.
“Damn, they ran out of wind,” I said, checking the chartplotter for the remaining distance to Mazatlan.
“Angelique of Vancouver, this is Sonrisa.” I called.
“This is Angelique of Vancouver. Go ahead Sonrisa.”
“Looks like we’re running out of wind here. What’s your plan?” I asked.
“Well if I were so lucky to have a engine I’d motor into Mazatlan, but that’s not happening.”
“How can we be of assistance?” I asked hesitantly, knowing what was coming next.
“Well, I haven’t asked this of you, but we’re so close I’m wondering if you could give us a tow?”
We had never taken another boat into tow, let alone into a tricky, narrow, shallow entrance like Mazatlan where boats have been lost on the rocks if caught at the wrong place at the wrong time. I started an inventory of what it would take her into tow. Perhaps we could at least get her close enough for her to drop anchor and call for a panga to take them the rest of the way in, or maybe we could tow her to just outside the marina, go in ourselves, and come back with the dinghy to tow them in that way.
“Do you have a tow-line?” I asked.
“I’ve got 175 feet of 5/8 anchor rode. Do you think that would work?”
I had no idea. Anchor rode seemed a little light, but at least it’s got some stretch to it to absorb the lurching of the two boats when riding different swells. Then again with the calm winds the seas had also calmed down somewhat and the prospect of slowly towing another boat seemed plausible.
“I’ll dig out some line for a bridle. We’ll give it a shot,” I replied.
Hearing the chatter on the radio Kristin came up from below.
“We’re going to try to take them into tow,” I told Kristin. “Or at least we’ll give it a try.”
Kristin rummaged through the line bag in the lazarette looking for the heaviest line we have as I steered a course toward Angelique of Vancouver in the distance.
As we approached we could finally see the boat that’s been on our minds for the last day or so. Angelique of Vancouver is a pretty canoe-stern Coast 34 that resembles a small Valiant and is the same model as Tappan Zee who we met last year.
As we approached I saw that the first challenge would be how to position the boats to be able to catch the tow line. Without wind, Angelique of Vancouver had lost steerage and was sideways to the still significant swell, causing the boat to roll from side to side, waving her mast back and forth as Sonrisa did the same as we turned to be parallel to and just behind her. A nightmare scenario would be if we got too close and our masts tangled on opposing swells. One or both of us would almost certainly be immediately dismasted. I studied the action of the swell and the movement of the boats and decided to angle in toward her bow to catch the line then steer clear, always staying in front of her mast.
Kristin and Kellye grabbed boat hooks and positioned themselves on the bow. AoV gave the line an impressively long toss which fell right onto Sonrisa’s bow. Kristin grabbed the line and instinctively started pulling it in as I worked the rudder and throttle to steer Sonrisa clear of AoV, all the while laser-focused on keeping the tow-line far from Sonrisa’s propeller.
“Bring it back here! Bring it back here!” I called to Kristin. I worried that we’d drift too far off and we’d lose the end of the line before getting it tied. I put the engine in neutral as Kristin handed over the pile of line from AoV. I found the end and looped it onto the bridle and tied it with a bowline.
“Here, pay this out. Don’t let it fall into the prop,” I ordered as Kristin positioned herself on the stern pulpit seat and carefully payed out the tow line until the last of it was overboard.
“Ok, now let’s see if we can gently start pulling without snapping the line.” I said as I put the engine into gear at idle for just a moment, let it coast, then again, until the line between the boats started to spring tight at which point I left it in gear and started idling forward.
“It’s working! She’s moving!” Kristin exclaimed as she watched the line draw tight and a slight bow wave appear from AoV behind us.”
I increased the throttle a bit and soon we were plodding along together at 3 knots. I hand steered as I alternately tried to keep the swells behind us and heading toward the marina entrance.
Checking the chartplotter we were approximately 8 miles from the marina breakwater entrance. As I hand-steered toward the shore I replayed in my mind the harbor entrance and wondered whether it was possible to tow AoV all the way into the harbor or whether we’d need to find a place to drop them off to temporarily anchor while they arranged for another tow.
While the winds were completely calm, a persistent swell rocked both AoV and Sonrisa to and fro as I played the throttle to try to keep a consistent tension on the tow line.
We checked in with AoV over the VHF every so often to make sure they’re still doing OK back there.
Finally as we approached the marina we discussed what the next course of action was going to be.
“I think we could probably get you into the harbor. It seems like you have good steerage back there,” I reported, now more confident in our towing capability and the relatively calm conditions.
“If you’re comfortable bringing us into the entrance, we’ll slip the tow line as soon as we’re inside and drift over to an end tie. If we can’t make it we’ll just drop anchor in the channel and wait for help,” AoV replied.
“Yeah, sounds good,” I confirmed.
“We’re towing her into the harbor,” I reported to Kristin and crew. “It’s close to 10:00. The marina office should be open. See if you can get them on the phone and see if they have an open end-tie to land.”
Kristin spent the next half hour calling the marina and trying to explain what we were doing. It caused some confusion at the office as AoV was doing the same. After the second call Kristin was able to confirm slip numbers for both us and AoV and confirmed that marina staff would be onsite to help bring her in.
The entrance to the marina harbor in Mazatlan is a shallow and tricky channel. There’s a semi-permanent dredging barge parked that is always moored along the side of the narrow entrance you have to negotiate around. When the dredge is operating, the entrance is impassible. The entrance also takes a sharp right turn as you enter and is very shallow along the right side of the channel. Basically we end up hugging the rock wall and passing very close to the barge as we enter. If the swell is running in the wrong direction, it can pile up in the entrance and boats have been lost on the breakwater in the swell.
As we approached the channel we could see the barge idle in its usual spot. As we entered the channel the swell disappeared and we were able to slowly make our way past the barge. I looked back and saw the AoV was having no trouble steering herself around the barge. By now a panga that was leaving the harbor had turned around and was escorting from behind and a group of cruisers in an inflatable had responded and come alongside AoV to help maneuver.
As we rounded the corner we saw several El Cid marina staff waiting for us on the end of a long empty end-tie. The docks at El Cid are at a 45 degree angle to the channel, so we’d have to turn into the fairway to bring AoV into the end-tie.
“Ok, Kristin, Kellye, get ready to slip the tow line off the bridle. When I say so, release the starboard end of the bridle and bring it in on the port side. Their tow line should slip right off the bridle. I’m going to put the engine in neutral until the line is clear and aboard. Then we’ll make a tight turn in the fairway and stay out of the way while AoV comes into the dock. Ready?”
Kristin and Kellye scrambled to their positions.
“Ready!”
The marina staff were waving us into the end-tie which was at least 80 feet long if not longer. Plenty of room to work with there. I steered a little wide and brought Sonrisa in close to the end tie, waving off the marina staff who seemed to want to catch our lines. Looking back I saw the tow line angle in toward the dock where the marina staff were able to grab it.
“Now!” I called out, shifting into neutral.
Kristin let loose the line and in a moment Kellye had it on deck. “Clear!” Kellye confimed.
I looked back and saw the marina staff had AoV’s tow line and were pulling her up to the dock.
I put the engine back in gear and spun Sonrisa around in the fairway, keeping clear of AoV as she came into the dock. We motored back out into the channel as waves and high-fives were being exchanged by all parties involved.
A few minutes later, Sonrisa was safely tied up in her slip and started putting things away. Mike from AoV stopped by to thank us and commend us on our expert maneuvering to bring her into the dock. He dropped off a six-pack of Corona and offered us some fuel for our trouble. Of course we were happy to help and beyond the sense of accomplishment we also hope that we’ve banked some sailor’s karma so that down the road someone may do something similar for us if we need it.
Mazatlan
It seems like most cruisers transiting between Banderas Bay and the Gulf of California (Sea of Cortez) consider Mazatlan to be little more than a necessary roadstop on their passage north or south. Last season we were held up in Mazatlan because of weather and throughly enjoyed our stay. This year we hoped to make it a quick stop, but still wanted to hit some of our favorite places including getting a guava pie from Panama and hitting our favorite (so far) restaurant El Presidio.
The next day I went to the marina office to inform them that we intended to leave at midnight for Isla Isabel and we’d like to check out before the office closes. Unfortunately we were denied because the dredge would be blocking the channel starting at 6 PM every night as they take advantage of the full-moon high tides to dredge the channel. Once again Mazatlan has found a way to keep us a bit longer than expected!
I returned to Sonrisa and started recalculating our course and weather based on a daylight departure and refiguring our time at Isla Isabel.
Kristin really wanted to spend two nights at Isla Isabel, so we figured we could do that by skipping a stop after Isla Isabel and just making a longer passage directly to La Cruz, buying our day back that we lost in Mazatlan.
The next evening we checked out of the marina and under calm cloudy skies we motored off into the sunset toward our next destination Isla Isabel.
I stayed up for the first hour as we motored past the commercial harbor in old town Mazatlan. We could see on our AIS a large freighter was maneuvering just outside the harbor which made Kristin nervous as it seemed to be turning toward us and would cross our course. I heard chatter on the VHF indicating the ship would be at the pilot station in 15 minutes which suddenly made sense as we could also see the pilot station on AIS. Still understandably nerve-wracking know we’re out here with these giants in the darkness.
Not long past the harbor entrance we started seeing the white lights of fishing boats. Some were large commercial boats with intense white lights that were miles away, but others were pangas with a single white light (if that) and still others were flashing white lights indicating the end buoy of a long line. We could pick up most of the targets on radar, but the panga’s wouldn’t reliably show up until they were within a mile. One panga showed up on radar but we couldn’t get a visual on him. At times we thought we saw a faint flash of light, but mostly it was just a black void where the radar showed a small target. Finally as we were very close I grabbed the spotlight and sure enough there was the panga. Fishing at night with no lights near a busy channel. I scanned the water in front of us to try to see if he was towing a long line across our course, but found nothing. I held my breath a little as we passed the panga and breathed a little easier once we were past and didn’t encounter any nets or lines.
While she didn’t encounter any more pangas, on Kristins watch she had to monitor several large fishing boats and keep track of which blinking light belonged to which boat to make sure we didn’t cross any lines. I encountered much of the same on my watch. Kellye’s watch which was between mine and Kristin’s on the other hand was completely uneventful and she didn’t see any other boats.
Isla Isabel
We arrived at Isla Isabel at 9:30 the next morning. During the night we saw another sailboat Jubel which was apparently making a valiant effort to sail in the nearly calm conditions. We passed her in the middle of the night at which point she appeared to have turned on her motor and was now a couple hours behind us on the AIS. We passed by the east anchorage where there was one boat anchored. Although the east anchorage is more popular as it’s easier to find a sandy bottom there, we prefer the south anchorage as it has better protection from the northwest swell and occasional easterly winds that form overnight. The trouble with the south anchorage is that there’s a couple of postage-stamp sized patches of sand to anchor in and the rest of the cove is nasty anchor-fouling boulders and rocks.
As we rounded the point to enter the south anchorage we saw that there were two boats already anchored in the small cove. I could see that one was exactly on top of the sandy spot we found last year. We circled around as we could just make out the bottom in about 30 feet of water and looked for what appeared to be sandy patches. Generally sand is lighter color than rocks, so the sandy parts appear a bit brighter from the surface. Finally we set the anchor down and only heard some minor scraping on the rocks before it set in (or so I thought).
By mid-day the other two boats had cleared out and we had the anchorage to ourselves. Some fishermen were coming and going from the beach and we were able to get a nice snapper.
The next morning I went for a snorkel to check the anchor chain which we could hear occasionally scraping on a rock overnight. I followed the anchor chain as it snaked through some rocks and sand until I found the anchor, laying on its side, wedged behind a bounder and generally uselessly lying on the bottom. I swam back to Sonrisa and grabbed the paddleboard and the dinghy anchor and a buoy. I spent the next hour snorkeling the entire anchorage until I found the best patch of sand available and dropped the dinghy anchor and tied it off to the buoy. I also set a mark on the Garmin handheld I brought with me for the occasion. I paddled back to Sonrisa and showed Kristin that we’re going to re-anchor next to where I dropped the buoy. All we need to do is drive over to the buoy and drop the anchor and it will be in the middle of the sandy patch.
We dropped the anchor no more than 10 feet from the mark and as soon as I backed down on the anchor we could tell from the absence of scraping sounds that we were nicely set in sand. Another quick snorkel to check confirmed a perfect set in clear sand. So sweet!
We had a wonderful two nights stay on Isla Isabel and once again marveled the island that time seems to have forgotten. Kristin and Kellye kept breaking out into singing the theme to Land of the Lost as we explored the island and its strange and wonderful inhabitants.
La Cruz
We said farewell once again to Isla Isabel in the pre-dawn darkness as we departed for our final destination of this series of passages – La Cruz de Huanacaxtle where we’d say farewell for now to our crew and settle in for the next few weeks. By daybreak we were starting to see some light winds, so we hoisted the sails and got several hours of sailing in until the wind finally died again just off of Punta Mita at the entrance to Banderas Bay. In all it was a relaxing end to an eventful week of migrating south.