The Baja Bash–Almost a waltz (5/31-6/18)

We weren’t too excited with Cabo San Lucas on the way down, but on the return trip it was positively unreal.  We arrived around sunset, just in time to dodge about a dozen craft of varying description and passenger inebriation heading out for sunset cruises – and this was on a Monday!  Managed to avoid all of them somehow and put down the anchor, eat some dinner and rest as much as we could with the music blaring from boats and shoreside establishments.  Four boats were set to leave at “0 dark thirty” to avoid the famous wind enhancement at Cabo Falso just around the corner. This was actually pretty close to the time we headed off, eyes glued to the radar screen.

Passage up to Magdalena Bay was fairly uneventful – winds 10-15, decent current relief near the shore and only came on the nose later the next day.  And we crossed Latitude 24 with 7 hours to spare.  The biggest issue was fog outside Mag Bay, it got really thick and the boats were calling back and forth on the VHF saying “I think it’s clearing ahead of us” or “Darn it, just got socked in again”.  Very glad I had downloaded a Google Earth image of the entrance and put it on the charting program, because the paper and electronic charts are about a mile off here.  We came into the bay and motor-sailed along to Puerto Magdalena, a small and somewhat run-down village where we hoped to get diesel and maybe supplies.  A friendly panganero came out almost immediately and agreed to bring us to shore and fill the jerry jugs (after I had poured three of them into the boat tank).  Had a beer and snacks at a sort of bar, panganero returned in only 30 minutes, and after paying and adding some school supplies and toys for his kids we were back on board.  Only problem was his daughter managed to lose her kite 10 minutes after getting it airborne, and it kept drifting over the water so far that neither we nor the panganero could find it again.  At least her younger bro still had his (and we were not around to see the ensuing sibling carnage).

This was a very smelly place – there are some tiny crustaceans called langustinas (like little lobster) and they apparently show up en masse in February and then die off starting in May.  Millions of dead crustaceans, floating and washed ashore smell about as bad as you might think.

Next day we went around the corner to Bahia Santa Maria, which we knew from the HaHa (one of the reasons to visit Mag Bay was we hadn’t on the way down).  Here there were maybe six boats doing the Bash, so we got to catch up with folks and hear their stories of the winds that howl over the hills at this time of year. We also found internet on the Banda Ancha, made a great fish dinner, Patti baked banana bread, and we saw an AWESOME sunset.

Next morning we left early for another long slog to Asuncion, 200 miles north.  There is a place to stop along the way, but the description of Abreojos (“eyes open” from all the reefs thereabouts) was not real inviting and it looked like we’d have decent weather.  Turned out to be a pretty windy passage, but as we neared Asuncion things calmed down and we had a nice port reach from the shore effect.

The best part of the passage was the huge pod of dolphins that swam past us – jumping all over the place, and playing with our pressure waves at the bow and quarter.  Awesome!

Arrived around sunset again, didn’t get to the town of about 2000 because Turtle Bay was just 45 miles up the coast. We buddy boated a bit with Adios but they left us in the dust.  Still got to TB in time to go in for a (pricey) shower, a meal and a few groceries.  We also stopped to introduce ourselves to Patricia Belle, a wonderful 60 foot coastal schooner with copacetic owners (Patrick and Jeanie) and three young-un crew to match.  Alas, the refrigerator died again – and this time it was not the skipper’s fault.

At least we were halfway up the coast and in semi-civilization, so we could get ice and a frozen chicken to get us further along, because despite our pleas nobody surfaced who had any knowledge of refrigeration – or more important, freon to fill it once the new leak had been found.  Oh well, we were getting used to it by now…

Turtle Bay is a really nice town and a great anchorage, but sheesh there are NO ATMs so most of the stores go without business – only one tienda takes credit cards, and most folks are low on cash at this point.  At least the diesel-selling pangas do take credit, though you have to negotiate the rate pretty hard - at first Ernesto wanted to charge 10% premium (I got him down to 5).  Another strange thing is that everyone in town seems to be part of two or three collectives or extended families, whatever: once we got diesel from one operator he wanted to pass us on to his friend’s hotel with showers, and restaurant, and ice maker even.  We eventually had to escape our “guide” so we could explore other places in town.

The next part of the bash is often the most harrowing, so we were a bit nervous heading off to Cedros Island and points north.  Jim Elfers (Baja Bash II) advises folks to try going west (outside) of Cedros, but all the boats in our little flotilla were going the usual leeward side and hoping the convergence zone at the top end of the island wouldn’t be too bad. On our first bash we didn’t want to be alone out there, so we went with the rest across the light easterly winds of Canal de Dewey and the (in our case gentle cycle) famous washing machine of Canal de Keller.  We found great internet passing Cedros Village, and a nice positive current that made the passage to the north anchorage very pleasant.  Took a while to get good holding among the kelp but we did so, a ways off the sea lion beach with Nero, Serendipity and Patricia Belle anchored close by or to the north of us. In the morning after a rocky night we decided to stay another day to explore and prepare for the next passage, but the rest of the boats left.  Jan started second-guessing his decision to hold, and was SO glad to see Hobo II pull up, complete with a sweet wooden dinghy that the boys could take to shore as Jim, Patti and Jan consumed appetizers and wine.  Ah, intelligent adult conversation, what a treat!

Another nervous night, Jan slept with his hand-held GPS for fear that he’d miss the boat’s anchor alarm if we dragged.  And it turned out Jim’s night on Hobo II was no better. So time to blow the popsicle stand and head across the famous Bahia Vizcaino.

When we asked Pete and Jean (previous owners) about the bash they said that was the only time it got really nasty.  This is what Patti wrote in the log:

Hellish ride

Cold wet

Bashing forever

Winds, current, swells

Hellish ride

Waterfalls – everything wet

We all died a bit

We all cried a bit

Hellish ride

We had to keep driving (with main and jib up for the first 8 hours) because reports from the boats ahead said the contrary current was 2 knots and folks were taking 30 hours to get to the next anchorage.  It turned out that our wind was more from the west so we could carry both sails (and the engine too) until the wind got above 25 and Jan got nervous enough to roll up the jib.  So 7 kn through the water, 6 over the bottom for the first two thirds of the passage and we got to San Carlos at 9:45 with just enough light to avoid kelp beds and anchor next to Sympatico.   We were soaked above decks from crashing through swells, found a lot of leaks, the mattress fell off the bed we were heeled so far – but we never had to tack so only stuff on the port side fell over!

Felt pretty bad and even sorry for ourselves until we started swapping stories with other boats and discovered theirs were worse: 36 hour passages; arriving after dark and heaving to for 8 hrs until the sun came up (this from a single-hander – it took him days to recover); 30 knots on the nose…

Next day we sauntered up to Isla San Geronimo and anchored next to Sympatico again. Kelly lent us his dinghy and this time Jan joined the boys for a shore excursion, a fun romp with the lighthouse keeper’s dog Loba digging up seagull nests or chasing sea lions wherever she could. Oh well, at least they aren’t endangered or anything…

We had Kelly over for dinner, with wine and more rich conversation that gave our nerves the balm they needed.  We were still checking in on the informal SSB nets that had been set up for the “June Baja Bash class of 2011”, so we could keep track of our friends and give and get info on conditions ahead and behind us.  Also very useful when only some of us could hear the weather discussions on the official nets (Sonrisa and Amigo, primarily).  A bit of grumbling about one of the more well-known contributors, who kept on saying “well, you’ll get about 10-15 in the morning, 20-25 in the afternoon, but that’s typical conditions for the outside of the Baja so get used to it” – until he started saying GO GO GO all of a sudden so we went.  It appears that after a horrible April and May, this June was actually a decent time to do the Bash, and our timing within that was about as good as it got.

Sunday the 12th we left San Geronimo for San Quintin where we were hoping for provisions and even a restaurant, but there’s a 6 mile ride into the town through an estuary and we never raised anyone on the VHF or cellphone, so eventually we settled for home-cooked meals and a restful night.  Next day off to Punta Colnett, which is quite dramatic with high cliffs and good holding.  Sympatico and Hobo II joined us at anchor again (the latter just for a 4-hour nap), and the next morning we managed to transfer two jerry jugs of diesel to Sympatico to pass on to Balena who was running low and was a day behind us. It felt good to “give back” after all the help we had received over our voyage, especially after we opened the goody bag that Jim from Hobo left us (hey, I can’t eat it all, I’m just single-handing!)

The last real passage was up to Ensenada.  Again we sailed with a huge pod of dolphins; we wanted to stop at Puerto Escondido (Jim Elfers’ favorite anchorage), but by now it had been filled with fishing nets, buoys and perhaps an entire fish farm. So we continued on to Ensenada, and met Patricia Belle coming out as we were going into the harbor.

 

Alas, the boom lift broke as we were dropping the mainsail, fortunately the rigid vang kept it up so no damage.  A bit rattled, we got directions on where to dock from Nero; and then helped Adios when it was their turn.  Time for a toast, showers, and a restaurant meal!

Ensenada seems a pretty neat town – a bit touristy (especially near the cruise ship terminal), but a couple blocks off the main drag and you’re in real Mexico. The boys befriended our slip-mate Norm, who lives on Sybarite.  Boys helped get his new video game set up and in return he let them watch DVDs out the wazoo, while Patti and Jan scoured the internet for houses and condos in Albany, having decided that we couldn’t send T&V back to the school district we lived in.

After a very professional reefer man called Delgado (“skinny”) fixed the bad weld our La Paz crew had used, we went out to lunch in the fish market, and unfortunately Patti’s vibe detectors failed for the first time in living memory so we ate a very boring meal, lightened only by these soulful but slightly pushy troubadours.

The next night was a real treat – we all went to the circus (Rolex) where we had great seats for about $9 each. So cheap that we brought along another 12-yr-old boy, Eddy, who seemed glad to get out but not terribly excited about the circus.  We loved it though – not just the performers, who were fine (clown was especially good), but also the ambiance and the strange scene of screaming girls pining for their heartthrob equestrian or tiger tamer.  After the show we came back for “tacos galore” at a roadside stand/ restaurant.

Our last day in Mexico was filled with paperwork (not too bad since all the agencies are in one place in Ensenada, and the marina helps shepherd you through for about $25), and hanging out by the pool.  We also bought some wonderful jams and a mole at a food fair at the marina/hotel, cooked camarones con mole for dinner and retired early.

Finally we’re off to San Diego – and there’s a motor-vessel on the rocks just outside the entrance!  We saw that the Mexican Navy had things under control, then continued on with an easy motor-sail, though getting more crowded as we approached.  Then just outside the navigation channel we saw a 26 foot boat that Jan thought was in trouble, since it dropped its main for no reason.  We came up to it and indeed they were in a pickle, couldn’t figure out how to steer with out the main, whose halyard had broken.  We helped call Vessel Assist and then towed them away from some rock pilings since Vessel Assist was still 30 minutes away.  It felt strange that nobody else seemed to pay them any attention, in Mexico I think all the boats in the vicinity would have come over to help, or at least check in on VHF.  (And no, the crew had two dogs but no radio, I think they’ll carry one from now on.)

Police dock was a bit of an ordeal – apparently cruisers are low on the priority list, the same agents serve the airport and they had to wait for a delayed British Airways flight to come in.  So we got in at 6:50 but weren’t cleared until 11PM.  At least they let us eat the two apples that were no-nos, “but be sure you put the cores in the yellow quarantine bins!” And then we were right at the municipal dock, which was still only $10.50/night (it has since gone to a buck a foot, I think).  We slept well that night :-)