A maze of memories

The 41 hours from La Paz to Mazatlán were beautiful, extremely arduous, fascinating, scary, extremely easy, extremely difficult. It was up and down and up and down and up and down. I have noticed that this is what I struggle most with since living on Milagros. The constant changes in mindset, morale and level of happiness and comfort. Nothing is ever constant on a sailboat. Everything can change within short periods of time. A lot of people say that that’s where the beauty of cruising life lies for them. Not for me.

A storm of thoughts

What we have both noticed on our crossing to Mazatlàn is nothing new, really. We still don’t like being underway at night. Once the sun sets and the night covers the boat, we feel like we just have to give up a little too much control. We both feel that way. Sometimes, even in daylight, I have the feeling that I’m constantly pushing the limits of my comfort zone, and this is even more noticeable at night. Even the smallest occurrences or unusual things stress me out and my reaction to them is not always the best. I quickly degenerate into a grumbling bundle of nerves that just thinks everything is shit. Boating sucks, the sea state is horrible, waves are the worst, fuck sailing in particular, all is crap.

Change in mindset

Just as quickly my mindset can change in the other direction. It only has to be a shooting star crossing the sky at night or a fish jumping out of the water during the day and I’m completely zen. And it’s been like this for more than two years now. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. The constant swings can be exhausting. I feel that I’m exhausted a lot. Not physically, but mentally.

Next stop – Isla Isabela

All of us were exhausted after our trip from La Paz, not only me. The fact that I also slit my hand the next morning only helped to a limited extent. But what the heck – show must go on, after all we wanted to arrive in Panama at some point, so we started the passage planning. The next stop was going to be a very special one, one that was highly praised by every single visitor. Isla Isabela.

Yet another nightly passage

Located almost 85 nautical miles southeast of Mazatlán, it is a breeding ground for hundreds of thousands of seabirds. There were hymns of praise for the place from all sailors who have visited. But what was the name of the visit? A passage overnight. Argh. It takes almost 17 hours to reach the island from Mazatlàn. The skippers and crew almost went crazy with anticipation. Not. But we had no choice.

Next stop – not Isla Isabela

While on the phone with my parents I was just about to announce our departure while Pati was checking the oil on Burrito in the engine room. She came back with a sober expression on her face. “We’re not going anywhere” she said. We had oil dilution. What that means is that an unfamiliar substance has found its way into our oil. In most cases, this is diesel or cooling water. Departure cancelled. There are many causes for oil dilution, one of them being a leaking cylinder head gasket, which would involve a lot of time and work. We really hoped it wasn’t the gasket because we wanted moooooove. But the cause was quickly found: we had diesel in our oil, because our BRANDNEW lift pump broke. Now we also knew why the engine didn’t want to start during the crossing. After our ordeal back in Peñasco, at least we knew what we had to do.

Pulling our hair

It was just horrid. After months of our engine purring wonderfully, our confidence in it was back to zero within a few days. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. The pump was quickly bypassed with a piece of diesel hose with a suitable connection that we still had aboard. And with the addition of a small electric diesel pump, we were able to temporarily fix the problem. After an oil change and a 3-hour test run of the engine to see if it worked, we were able to start our journey towards Isla Isabela with a day of delay.

On the way in the dark

The crossing went smoothly. We set out in daylight and a good wind, set the sails and had fantastic weather. The waves were moderate, the wind was steady at around 15 knots. Just like Milagros and we like it. Unfortunately, all the fun was over in the evening and Burrito had to go to work. This time he started up smoothly and moved us through the night to the southeast. The most exciting thing that happened? We moved passed a sailboat that was sitting completely still with its sails set and flapping, and we passed the buoy of a fishing net way too close for comfort. Those kinds of threats are simply invisible in the dark. So much for night time passages and giving up control.

There she is – Isla Isabela

At the crack of dawn and with the first light of day, Isla Isabela National Park appeared. And wow, we weren’t promised too much beforehand. The place is often called «the Galapagos of Mexico». The sky was full of frigatebirds, blue boobies, pelicans and many other bird species. They circled overhead over and around the island in the warm morning light, and their “talks” could be heard loudly from the shore. Unfortunately, we had already seen from afar the many anchor lights that lined the island.

Easy Come Easy Go

It quickly became clear that a stay would not work out. We wanted to make ourselves comfortable on the east end of the island. The closer we got to the island, the more anchor lights from other boats appeared along the shores of the rocky island. At the east end, three boats were already gently rocking over the sandbank that would have been our target anchorage. We still tried to find a spot, tough. However, we didn’t feel 100% comfortable dropping our anchor ultra-close (by our standards at least) next to another vessel in 12 meters of water with no idea of what to expect of the seabed. So, we called off “Operation Visit Isla Isabela”. But not without a little sightseeing tour around the island.

Safety first

In the main bay at the southern end of the island, which is known for its rocky bottom with only small sandbanks, there were a mere 8 boats at anchor. Maybe all the anchors had found sandy bottom, maybe they had found boulders. Who knows? But we didn’t want to anchor there anyway, we’ve heard too many stories of snagged, broken, fouled and lost anchor gear. So, we embarked on a leisurely cruise around the island and are now even more interested in visiting it. Then we turned back to the southeast and thus to the bay of Chacala.

And then I stabbed myself again

And guess what happened on the way there: I stabbed my wrist with a knife. Great, right? I did that when I wanted to kill a fish that we had caught on the way. The big unlucky animal that bit the rubber squid was a beautiful Pacific Crevalle Jack. The other big unlucky animal who now had two holes on the same arm was me. It wasn’t deep or big, but I must have pricked a tendon. Now I couldn’t use my right hand anymore at all and Pati had to make use of the fish. I was so fed up, you cannot even imagine.

Hello Chacala!

Luckily, we arrived in Chacala soon after. A sandy beach, palm trees, beach bars and the good side of sailing life awaited. However, we also had to be prepared for possible uncomfortable nights. In our navigation program sailors wrote of swell, which could roll undisturbed into the bay. So, it was time for yet another first time: We had to make use of our stern anchor. A stern anchor prevents the boat from turning unfavorably in wind and current, possibly putting your boat sideways to incoming waves or getting too close to possible obstacles. With the use of a stern anchor, you can thus move the bow and stern of the boat in the desired direction and prevent the ship from moving around too much. This keeps the ship aligned at the right angle to the waves or keeps it away from dangers in small, sketchy or crowded anchorages.

No problemo!

Said and done. We wrestled our big stern anchor and anchor rode into our dinghy and took the equipment towards the beach. Flo gradually let out line from the stern of Milagros and when we found a suitable position, we dropped the anchor. Everything worked like a charm and soon we were able to enjoy the view comfortably rocking in the cockpit.

Discovering the beauty of Chacala

Chacala is a small village on a beautiful, long, picture-postcard sandy beach lined with many small restaurants. Behind the village, lush greenery borders the hilly landscape. It was very nice to look at and of course we had to see it up close right away. After a quick zoom ashore in our trusted deflatable dinghy we stood barefoot on the beach and sipped on three ice cold margaritas. The next few days we spent with everything that makes life on a sailboat beautiful. Balm for our battered souls.

Finally, greenery!

We were especially looking forward to the vegetation after two years in the desert. So of course, we didn’t miss the opportunity to go for a walk in the forests that surround the cute little town of Chacala. We were accompanied by a friendly doggo, which we quickly christened “Schoggi” (which is swiss German for chocolate), because of its brown coat. She accompanied us all the way up into the forest. We were only stopped by the guard at a pompous entrance to a private property. Back on the boat, we met up with friends from all the boats we knew that were also anchored in Chacala, enjoyed tacos made with the fish we had caught, or walked through the village, where, among other things, I was finally able to have the threads of my knife cut removed at the local health center.

Florian gets the full range

Our good friend and crewmate Flo got the full range of highs and lows on a sailboat. The dark clouds had lifted again and we were sitting on a palm-lined beach, sipping alcoholic beverages of all kinds. Where Flo had recently been seasick burying his head in the toilet, he now buried his feet in the sand. Our idea that we could continue from Chacala to La Cruz only met with limited approval from him. He would rather stay in Chacala a little longer. Enough of the sailing adventures for now. Enough of the constant Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

Flo’s conclusion

This is also Flo’s conclusion of his sailing adventure with us on Milagros. Highlights for him were visiting Chacala, meeting other sailors, experiencing bioluminescence, spotting whales and dolphins and being adventurous with friends. On the opposite end of the spectrum are the technical issues we encountered, the moral lows, seasickness and David’s hand accidents – I would say it was a 360° experience for him with all that entails the cruising life. It’s not just summer, sun, sunshine and champagne sailing.

We continue to La Cruz

The time we had together was short and soon we were getting Flo to the early morning bus that was supposed to take him to the Puerto Vallarta airport. We also packed our belongings, raised both our stern and bow anchor and motored comfortably in the direction of La Cruz. At anchor there we had to prepare the ship again for the next visit of two friends from Switzerland.

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Der Beitrag Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

After spending a night in Pichilingue Bay, we sailed the last 10 nautical miles into La Paz. The anchorage in the channel was crowded with boats, and it wasn’t easy to find a suitable spot. Additionally, it was a new moon and low tide, meaning very low water levels. We didn’t want to cross the sandbar to our “regular” anchoring spot as we didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks. Although the depth was probably enough, we didn’t want to take even the slightest chance to get stuck.

Finally, we found a place to drop the anchor, but soon after we realized that we had anchored right in the middle of the channel. Although we were in good company – other sailboats had anchored in the middle of the channel, too -, we didn’t want to stay there. As it was already evening, we decided to wait and re-anchor the next morning during high tide.

Noisy affair

On the first night, we could hear loud music from shore. It was time for the yearly Carnival in La Paz. We didn’t want to miss out on the festivities and joined the crowd the next day. In the late afternoon, the parade started, which in many ways resembled “Fasnacht” we know from back home in Switzerland but was still quite different. Regional organizations and clubs had decorated trailers with great attention to detail, on which either many costumed people danced, or one or two young women were presented in magnificent dresses and crowns.

The trailers were mostly pulled by pickups with huge speakers installed, blasting Mexican music at ear-splitting volumes. Between the trailers, various dance performances took place. We stood directly opposite a stage where a host commented on all the passing participants. The edge of the parade was lined with amusement stalls and food stands. The atmosphere was especially unique as the sun set over the sailboats which were anchored in the La Paz channel. And this whole vibe made us a little homesick.

Hello civilization

After several weeks of being far from civilization and several months in not-so-nice Guaymas, we enjoyed being in La Paz. The city has a lot to offer in terms of cuisine and culture, and we enjoyed that everything was within walking distance. We also had some preparations to do before sailing south with Flo to unknown waters (to us at least).

Money, money, money

For example, we had our watermaker’s high-pressure pump serviced – luckily by a professional. A stainless-steel spacer between two gaskets that had to come out simply wouldn’t budge. The service technician took the affected unit with him to his workshop but still couldn’t remove it there. The technician then promptly installed the unit of another model on our boat. He also found that the water suction pump was broken. We had suspected this due to its strange noises but had hoped for a miracle or a simple solution. Unfortunately, we had to dig deep into our pockets. The small part cost a whopping $400!!! But without this pump, there would be no homemade water. So, we bit the bullet and paid the price.

Burrito is happy

We also brought Lauro, the diesel mechanic from Puerto Escondido, on board. On one hand, to replace the leaking gasket on the fuel lift pump, and on the other hand, to do a general engine check before the crossing. We went through everything together and also checked the alignment of the engine. His conclusion was: all is good with Burrito! That’s exactly what we wanted to hear. We also used our stay in La Paz to stock up on all kinds of goodies for Milagros (and us) in the many boat accessory stores – oil for the engine, sacrificial anodes, a new and completely overpriced toilet seat, etc.

There’s confusion

On the day of Flo’s arrival, David took a taxi to the airport to pick him up, while I stayed on the boat. Suddenly, I heard Flo’s voice on the VHF, calling Milagros, saying that he was at the dinghy dock. So, I drove to shore to pick him up. On the way, David called me to say that Flo hadn’t shown up yet. It turned out that the two had missed each other at the airport. Oops. We celebrated the reunion with tacos and margaritas, as it should be.

The world is a village

The Swiss sailors Thomas and Anja on SV Robusta were also in town. So, we arranged to meet a few days after our arrival for a few beers – unfortunately without Thomas, who would be absent due to a dental appointment. But we saw Thomas a little earlier than planned, because his dinghy motor broke down on the way to his dentist appointment, and we jumped in as a taxi service. As a thank you, Anja brought us a homemade Swiss bread. Yummyyyyy. We then went ashore for dinner and later, we were joined by Alex, another Swiss sailor who has been sailing solo around the world with his SV No Stress for 6 years. The world is a small place sometimes.

Swiss meeting

As a good weather window for the sail to mainland Mexico approached, we prepared for this crossing at full speed: inspecting the rigging, mounting the inner forestay (which had been sitting in our bilge for almost 2 years), provisioning, cleaning the underwater hull, planning the passage of the 350 nautical miles, and so on. But we didn’t forget to have some fun. We enjoyed not only the vibe of La Paz, but also the sailor life. Alex invited us for a sundowner on his boat No Stress, a 54-foot Amel Super Maramu. This is the same boat that the famous Youtubers from SV Delos have been sailing around the world with for 10 years. It was exciting to see this model with our own eyes. We spent a fun evening speaking Swiss German. 6 Swiss sailors on one boat, that’s rare for us. Unfortunately, no pictures were taken.

Let’s go on the crossing

Then it was time: we started our nearly 3-day crossing to La Cruz, because a nice north wind window with 20-25 knots opened up, which was ideal for the planned downwind course. After a few hours of motoring north and into the wind to get out of La Paz, we were able to hoist the sails and turn east. We sailed on a fairly sporty beam reach with the waves on the side. When it was finally time to turn towards the southeast and thus towards La Cruz, we realized that Milagros didn’t want to go that way.

The mood is decying

The sea was really confused and we just couldn’t stabilize the boat. That meant hand-steering. And as soon as it got dark, Flo got seasick and was out. So, David and I steered by hand, which was really exhausting, but we got into the flow, eventually. When we suddenly got a radio call in the middle of the night with the words, “Milagros, Milagros, what are your intentions? Are you going in front of me or behind me?” we lost our flow. We scanned the horizon and couldn’t see anything, no lights, no boat, no nothing. And we couldn’t see any boat on our AIS screen (Automatic Identification System) either. We asked him what kind of boat he was, and he replied, “I’m a cargo ship.”

Then we found out that the AIS information disappears when we zoom out too far on our screen. Not good. Not good at all. We agreed with the tanker that we would accelerate, and he would pass behind us. After that, we lost our desire for the long crossing. The high waves, strong winds, and uncomfortable course strained our nerves and we became lethargic. For example, when a portion of noodles with tomato sauce spilled, we just left it on the floor. No one wanted to clean it up.

It gets worse

After reconsideration, we changed our destination on a whim and headed for Mazatlán. This shortened the crossing by about a day. Eventually, we got back into the flow somehow. Milagros sailed herself with the wind steering system on a downwind course. We had 6 – 10 ft high waves from behind and surfed them at up to 11 knots (which is about the speed of light). So, sailing became fun again – until about 4 hours before arrival. Suddenly, out of the blue, Milagros changed course in the middle of the night for unknown reasons and gybed, in this case, a Chinese gybe, because we didn’t want to gybe (sail with the stern through the wind). Fortunately, we had mounted a preventer line, which prevented the boom from swinging freely from one side to the other. Immediately, we lost all of our sailing spirit again. What had happened? We still don’t know.

It’s over

But that wasn’t all. When we wanted to start the engine it just wouldn’t start. After the second attempt, I went below deck and tried everything related to diesel supply. I started the electric diesel pump, switched tanks, switched to another filter, and operated the fuel lift pump lever. In combination with David giving a bit of throttle on the third try, the engine finally started. This episode was another blow on the already not very enjoyable crossing. Finally, we had to anchor in the port of Mazatlán at night; our first night anchoring manoeuvre. We radioed the harbour master just before entering at 2 a.m in the middle of the night. He only said, “be careful.” But the harbor was well lit and we quickly dropped anchor. We left everything as is and were just glad to have finally arrived after 41 hours.

Misfortunes seldom come alone

The next morning, we wanted to treat ourselves to an extensive breakfast with pancakes and fruit. Which was when the misfortune happened: David slipped with a knife while cutting a mango and sliced his hand open. It was immediately clear that the wound needed to be stitched. So, Flo and I prepared the dinghy, which was still deflated. David and I then set off to shore. The guard at the dock recommended the Cruz Roja – the Red Cross hospital – and an Uber brought us there within 10 minutes. We were prepared for a long wait and packed pancakes and entertainment material. But David was seen immediately, and his cut was stitched with 5 stitches. It cost 180 pesos – about $9. One hour later we were already back on Milagros.

We need to relax

After these exertions, we longed for a hot shower, so we just booked the cheapest room we could find in Mazatlán. We walked through the old town to the hotel, checked in, showered, left again, and treated ourselves to a fine dinner. In the coming days, we stretched our legs with walks through Mazatlán: up to a viewpoint, through the old town and its alleys, and along impressive cruise ships. In between, we enjoyed the rich culinary offerings, from ice cream to street tacos to local beer. We really liked it there. The only thing that disturbed the idyll were party boats, ferries, and cargo ships that constantly passed by the boat.

If we had known

After five days, it was time to sail on, as Flo had to catch a flight home to Switzerland from Puerto Vallarta, which was 200 nautical miles (approximately 360 km) away, and our next guests, Hürzi and Chrigi from Switzerland, also wanted to board there soon. We planned our journey south so that we could stop at Isla Isabel, a bird breeding ground 20 nautical miles off the coast. Only in mild conditions, the anchorage there was somewhat acceptable. But on the day of departure, Milagros had other plans for us. Yet again. We discovered something that prevented our further journey and potentially delayed it for a longer time…

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Der Beitrag From Madness to Memories erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

I don’t really know where to start and where to stop. It’s completely crazy how many memories we’ve been able to make in the last year and a half. Looking back in my mind’s eye, I’m almost a little overwhelmed. The many scraps of memories and images overload my brain a bit. Life on a sailboat also overloaded my brain. Positively as well as in the negatively.

A little pride

One feeling I have is pride. I’m proud of myself and of Pati. What we have achieved in 2021 and 2022 is really awesome. Without any prior knowledge, we undertook a huge refit of a 44-year-old sailboat, went through ups and downs and just kept going. Even at points where others would have stopped. We have shown perseverance, persevered and have been rewarded. Because everything that came after the conversion often made us forget all the hardships. The wind on our face, the water beneath us, the stunning scenery of the Sea of ​​Cortez all around us. The time we put into rebuilding Milagros was worth every second.

Major and minor incidents

Something else that I have to emphasize is that we were also have spent half a year at sea without any major incidents. It seems that during our refit, we drew attention to the right places, and so far we haven’t noticed any major weaknesses that we overlooked or built in ourselves. If we ask around, we actually started off with a reasonably problem-free season. Apart from our engine failure at the worst possible moment, in wind, weather and waves, of course. Since the injection pump was repaired, we haven’t had the slightest problem with our Burrito (which is what we call our engine). Let’s hope it stays that way for a long time. Because you never know if an incident is lurking around the next corner. Life on a sailboat is full of surprises.

Life on a sailboat is a back and forth

I could describe sailing in the Sea of ​​Cortez like this: Engine on, anchor up, sails up, suddenly not enough wind, sails down, engine on. As soon as the engine is turned on, the wind picks up, sails up. When everything is set and trimmed nicely, the wind direction suddenly changes. We have to adjust the course, but the course no longer suits our route. At the same time the windspeed is increasing, we have to reduce the sail area. Just when that’s done, the wind shuts off completely. So, we take the headsail in, turn on the engine and motor along. Suddenly there’s wind again, we are sailing again. It was often back and forth, up and down, forward and backward. Where the heart of an inveterate sailor soars, the whole sailing thing gets on my nerves at some point.

Me and the sailing thing

Maybe it’s the lack of experience on our part to make the right decision at the right moment, maybe it’s just the Sea of ​​Cortez as a sailing area with unsteady winds, the irregular topography and what else. I can’t say that I not enjoy sailing at all, but at times I was just plain annoyed. Life on a sailboat, I guess. But here too: We didn’t experience any major incidents and were very conservative and cautious on our voyages. This will also be the way in the future. And when everything is going well, the conditions are ideal, the sails are trimmed correctly, the wind pilot has the boat under control and Milagros just wants to stubbornly move forward, then it’s just pure pleasure. Then I’m in full flow and don’t want it to stop. But whether I will become a die-hard sailor or not remains to be seen.

Baja Magic

What I am enormously grateful for is that we found Milagros here in Mexico and were able to take our first steps in Baja California. The Sea of ​​Cortez is completely overlooked by the entire world (including the sailing world). And that’s a good thing. This little piece of paradise is a giant playground with countless bays for water sports of all kinds, each new corner, every new anchorage is more beautiful than the last. It’s just magical. The wildlife is incredible, the scenery is breathtaking. We met so many people who had big sailing plans and ended up just getting stuck here. This place has everything a sailor’s heart desires. Still, I’m ready to move on. I’m looking forward to moving south, where there’s a little more change in weather and vegetation.

Special moments

I would like to highlight a few very special moments. They’re the first ones that come to mind when I think back. Places, people, short split seconds, encounters, nature, the wind and the water – the list of moments is endless. Still, I want to pick out a few special memories. And I’m not going to talk about our time at Cabrales Boatyard here. We could fill an entire book with memories from Cabrales.

The big reunion

A very important moment was the big reunion with our friends from the Boatyard in Puerto Peñasco. While we had managed (albeit with a great delay) to sail the entire Sea of ​​Cortez, our fellow sailor friends were slowly returning to the Sea of ​​Cortez from their season on mainland Mexico. We arranged to meet at Bahia Bonanza, an endless sandy beach. Cavu were there, Alegria, Boomerang, Empyrean. A gathering of many great people in a dreamlike place.

Party in paradise

We had a couple of great stays on Isla San Francisco. However, there’s not only the famous, horseshoe-shaped southwest bay, but there’s some more anchorages. For example, on the east side of the island. It was yet another rendezvous with friends on other boats. Cavu, Alegria and Boomerang, plus Perspective and Peep. Since we had to follow the spotty Sea of Cortez internet for Patricia’s online work, Cavu Dave’s birthday party was brought forward and so, after a boat crawl (everyone gathered in turn on each other’s ships), the party continued waaaayy into the night. All of this in one of the most beautiful anchorages we have had the privilege of visiting.

We didn’t want to leave at all

Another highlight was our stay at Refugio or V-Cove. We now had Starlink on board and therefore Internet à discretion and no longer had to hop from Internet hotspot to Internet hotspot. This was and is a huge game changer for us, so we just stayed in the same place for as long as possible. The V-Cove anchorage was our home for almost two weeks at a time while other boats came and went. The only permanent roommates were the pelicans, the seagulls, the fish and the dolphins. In the morning we worked on the computer, in the afternoon we just enjoyed the surroundings and our life.

We have finally made it

How we have met Marga on Dogfish, also a Kelly Peterson 44, is for the history books anyway. But the fact that we actually managed to anchor next to each other in a beautiful, hellishly hot bay was still special. Our two KPs on a crystal smooth water surface, a visit from two humpback whales, a trip with a rental car to visit Mike, Katie and Rosco on Alegria, morning coffee deliveries by dinghy – our time in the Bahia Coyote had everything that makes life on a sailboat beautiful.

The second half of our horror ride

Anyone who has been reading along for a while will remember how our maiden voyage turned into a horror voyage. An engine failure near the coast with winds of up to 30 knots and meter-high waves was not cool at all. Nevertheless, a veritable shitty moment turned into one of the memories that is one of the most important to me. Because when we had the boat and ourselves under control again, it became apparent that we can call an absolute monster of a sailboat our own. We always felt 100 percent safe on Milagros in these adverse conditions and we learned to sail her in those very moments. Simply because we had no other choice. Milagros showed us that she’s made for exactly such situations. That she’s made for the high seas and does not become stubborn and uncomfortable even when her owners are stressed and make mistakes.

Up and down, and up and down

In this way, a moment of maximum stress became a moment of maximum enjoyment. High and low are so incredibly close when you live on a boat. This was never more impressive than on this crossing. No book, blog post, article in the world’s sailing magazine could have prepared us for the emotional roller coaster that is life on a boat. In the blink of an eye, a beautiful sunset can turn into an absolute washing machine as unexpected waves come around the corner. Calm turns to insomnia because the wind suddenly picks up and throws the boat around. I have to say, sometimes the ups and downs and the backs and forths were a bit too much for me.

It can go on like this

But after a few months break and a little distance, I can say – let’s do this again! The anticipation of returning to Mexico and Milagros is growing and growing. We have big plans. First, we have to tweak the boat a little, then we want to head south. To mainland Mexico, El Salvador, Costa Rica, Panama. Or anywhere else. In the end, everything always turns out differently than we expect. But that’s the great thing about life on a sailboat. We can start each day from scratch because we have no idea what’s going to happen. And that’s the way it should be.

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Der Beitrag Our Unique Life On A Sailboat – Looking Back erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

Hot hotter hottest

Physical exertion was out of the question, especially during midday. The sun literally blasted from the sky, and we had over 40°C in the boat. I usually lay on the sofa under a fan while Pati was reading on her eBook reader out in the cockpit and so we sweated away. If there were any small tasks on Milagros, we couldn’t and didn’t want to do them until after sundown. Not that it would have gotten cooler then, but at least the sun was gone. Given the circumstances, we were satisfied with very little.

High visit

Apart from the rigging, we didn’t do much worth mentioning either. In fact, we simply enjoyed being anchored next to Marga and Dogfish in the beautiful Coyote bay without having to worry too much about the onward journey. A little swimming here, a little snorkeling there, all garnished with fine food and the obligatory sundowners. One evening Marga’s dad François also came to visit Dogfish and so our group of three became one of four. Marga’s dad would travel to Santa Rosalia with her and Dogfish on her way back north.

Making plans

But, as it always is, time passed and slowly but surely, we had to think about moving on again. So, we sat down to plan the next jumps towards Santa Rosalia. First stop was a return visit of Santo Domingo at the entrance to Bahia Conception. From there we were able to move further north and to Santa Rosalia if a weather window was favourable (with a southerly wind). Marga and her father decided to stay in Coyote a little longer. So, Milagros set off alone to a short and unexciting hop back to Santo Domingo.

New goals

As soon as the southerly winds picked up, we set off on a longer sail in the direction of «Isla San Marcos». From there it was only a stone’s throw to Santa Rosalia, the city that we actually wanted to head to on our absolutely insane ordeal of a maiden voyage. We lifted our anchor at the same time as another boat and set sail for the first time directly from the hook without engine support. We first watched our neighbours sail away and then just imitated the process. Worked out great and was fun! Yet another newly learned skill.

A race that isn’t a race at all

The conditions for sailing that day were really great. The wind was good enough that we were going over 5 knots at times, but not strong enough that we peed our pants from fear. We tried to keep up with our neighbours. The longer the journey lasted, the clearer it became that they were traveling in the same direction as us. We constantly compared our tactics to those of the other boat. They tended to stay closer to shore while we tried our luck further out.

No wind and big waves

As the day progressed, it became clear that our competitors had probably chosen the better of the two tactics. While the wind dropped steadily further offshore where we were, closer to shore the wind seemed to be more constant and we were gradually being left behind. At the same time, a rather impressive sea was building up. Big waves in rather long distance gradually came from the south. Which was actually unusual in the Sea of Cortez, which is known for the fact that unpleasant waves can build up in a relatively short time, which can make life difficult and uncomfortable with short wave spacing.

Cape Verdean style waves

The strange southerly swell gradually increased. At some point we felt reminded of our very first sailing trip in 2018 on Cape Verde, where the sea was simply powerful and impressive. At the same time the wind dropped. We initially refused to use the engine to help, but eventually the sails just made too much noise. The more waves there are, the more wind is needed to keep the sails taut. The boat can tilt all over the place and if the pressure in the sails is not sufficient, they start flapping back and forth. This is firstly annoying and secondly it can put unnecessary strain on all the material. So, at some point we decided to stop the whole exercise. Down with the sails! Burrito-time.

New acquaintances on the water

The other boat was stuck in front of us on the east side of the island and stood practically still as it rocked in the waves and sails flapped left and right again. So, we quickly caught up with our fellow travelers. During our overtaking manoeuvre, the owner of the “Mar de Luz” radioed and we learned that he was the only one on board and had the same plan as us. Stop at Isla San Marcos and then continue to Santa Rosalia. Luckily, we had a reservation for the Santa Rosalia Marina as the general trend at this time of year with virtually all boats is to head north to avoid the summer hurricanes.

Hello Susimi

Before spending some marina time, we spent some Sweet Pea Cove time on Isla San Marcos. As we rounded the north side of the island, we found SV Susimi huddled into a corner. Our attempt to do the same failed due to poor visibility in the water. We knew of nasty rocks underwater that we couldn’t see now, so we stopped trying and found shelter just around the corner from Paul and Hazel.

On a discovery tour

So, after a good night’s sleep we went to visit the two on Susimi. They knew that were exciting things to see nearby. On Isla San Marcos, too, the water masses had carved sensational rock formations and caves into the stone. Paul and Hazel paddled along on their paddleboards while we were being lazyasses and chose our dinghy over the kayak. One of the caves could be entered under a rock arch and we were amazed when we met a group of Mexicans on the other side who had apparently camped there. There are definitely worse places to stay! At first, we laughed at Paul’s comment about smelling smoke (“Paul smells cavemen!”), but his nose was right after all!

Coffee and fish

After our little tour of discovery, we found ourselves at Susimi’s for a round of coffee. Back on Milagros it was time for yet another bonfire on the beach. Therefore, a fish was needed! So, we saddled up the dinghy, grabbed my spearfishing gear and rounded the corner to a promising rock formation. I shot a fish as soon as I got in the water. I didn’t have time for a second one, because while I was still in the water, something weird happened.

Cloudy soup

Suddenly a wall of murky water moved towards me. Within minutes, visibility dropped from about 20 meters to zero. The cloudy soup came from the north and from one moment to the next spearfishing was out of the question. When I was back with Pati in the dinghy, we had to take a closer look at the situation. And it was really weird: the brown water didn’t seem to mix with the “normal” water and an edge formed between blue and brown. However, the brown water never found its way into the anchor bay. It seemed to stop at Isla San Marcos. Currents? Sewage from Santa Rosalia? If any of you know what this phenomenon is, please enlighten us!

We ended up in such a beautiful place

After a short walk ashore, we collected driftwood for a fire, made potato wedges and the fish and enjoyed the evening atmosphere. It was the last night at anchor before heading to the marina in Santa Rosalia. Our very first season on and with Milagros was slowly but surely coming to an end. Later, as the sun went down, the Sea of Cortez revealed all its glory. Just Pati, a bonfire and me. A full stomach and a full heart. And around us all the colours that a sunset here in Mexico can give off. What more could I possibly want from life?

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Der Beitrag Heat, Waves, Coffee and Fire erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

Before we took off from San Evaristo, David had another mission. Sooner or later, every little sound the boat makes under way or at anchor starts sounding familiar. On our way to San Evaristo, a new noise at the boat’s propeller had suddenly showed up in the San José Channel. It sounded a little scrapy and squeaky. At worst, the new cutlass bearing was already worn through, at best all was fine. So, David squeezed into my wetsuit and armed with snorkel and goggles, jumped into the almost 20°C cold water. Fortunately, the visual inspection did not confirm our fears: everything looked fine.

Squeaky mystery

There was a second sound we noticed when we got waves on the bow at a certain angle. It came from somewhere in or up the mast. After some observation, we noticed that our mast “pumped” in the upper third when the bow rose and fell in the waves. You can imagine this as if you put a twig on the table and put pressure on it from the top – the twig bends a little somewhere in the middle. And of course, this pumping shouldn’t happen. The squeeking nose seems to be correlated to these movements of the mast. It became almost unbearable. Because every time we heard a “Squeak!”, we knew that the mast was pumping. But what exactly caused this noise and whether it just happened to always occur together with the pumping, we couldn’t figure out.

We tighten the rigging

So, we gathered information about what was causing the mast to pump. The answer was that the rigging was too loose. This made sense, because we knew that the new steel cables would stretch a little. Hence, we tightened the rigging all over, but only the pumping got better – the squeaking did not disappear. But when the swell (waves that travel long distances) subsided, the squeaking stopped, and disappeared from our minds again.

On the dream beach

With the next favourable weather window, we headed for the dream bay, which was only 2 hours away: Isla San Francisco. The huge bay offers room for countless boats and its sandy bottom makes for an easy anchorage. Turquoise-green water, a white sandy beach and red rock formations were our backdrop for the next few days. The anchorage is a popular destination, especially at weekends, so unfortunately it is not always as idyllic as it could be. This time, too, there were some motorboats with the blue LED underwater lighting and party tents on the beach. But, it’s just beautiful there.

Stretching our legs

We took the opportunity to stretch our legs a bit and walked along the crest of the bay. We had a wonderful view of the Sea of Cortez. To the east, we could look down the rocky cliffs to the rough sea. On the other side, we saw the expansive bay with its perfect beach and sparse desert vegetation. David also fished us a delicious dinner right away.

German acquaintance

Unfortunately, the water was still too cold to swim and snorkel. Also, the visibility was not yet as we had imagined. But that time will come soon enough. A German flag was flying at the stern of one of the anchored boats. Of course, we had to go by and say hello. Jost was on his way to La Paz on his “Serenity” with his niece. And he invited us right away for a sundowner. We absolutely must get a national flag – or at least our cantonal (state) flags – so that we can “reveal” ourselves. At the moment we are travelling rather incognito: no home port on the transom and we only fly the Mexican courtesy flag.

Bahia Falsa

As we wanted to be in La Paz for my birthday, we only stayed two nights at Isla San Francisco and then said “Good bye San Francisco”. Other Cabralians and Iñaki and Carmen had recommended Bahia Falsa, about 8 nautical miles from the centre of La Paz, as an anchorage. There we had mobile phone reception and could easily take a taxi into town. When we turned around the corner into the anchorage after 8 hours of sailing, the Milagros classic move reoccurred. Sentences like “It’s far too crowded and there’s no room for us” or “Under no circumstances should we anchor too close to this boat, the damage would be far too expensive” could be heard.

It’s OK

But we overcame ourselves again and anchored behind all the boats. And again, it turned out that we had more than enough space around us. Our eyes still need some training. In the evening we met up with our friends on “Freyja” in the beach bar and treated ourselves to a cold beer and mediocre tacos.

Working on Milagros

Here in Bahia Falsa, we worked on our rigging again, as we were not quite happy with the mast yet. We tightened the forestay a bit more and pumping seems to be a thing of the past now. We also finally turned our attention to our watermaker and replaced the old membrane. But even after this service we were still not happy with the performance and water quality. But we would talk to the “Watermaker Guys” in La Paz.

Squeak Squeak Squeeaak

As the week progressed, westerly winds were forecast on and off and our anchorage was protected against everything except, of course, that very wind. This resulted in the swell rocking our boat up and down. And yes, as mentioned above, it was just such waves that made the mast squeak. And as is always the case, of course we don’t have waves during the day, when a bit of squeaking isn’t too bad. No, the wind came up in the evening, of course, when we wanted to sleep. And rest assured, falling aslee to with a regular squeaking noise is impossible. The situation was annoying to say the least.

It’s exasperating

At that point we felt like pulling our hair out, which would have been a hard thing to for David. We just couldn’t figure out what exactly was causing that noise. We had optimised the tension in the rigging and the pumping of the mast was gone, but the squeaking was not. There was only one thing left to do: David had to go up the mast. Armed with lubricating oil, he greased every moving part possible up there. And that’s when he finally found the culprit. A #@ç%3 spinnaker block, with no line hanging from it yet dangling squeakily and happy at the mast top. The noise it made was amplified by the hollow mast. David removed the troublemaker – now we can finally sleep peacefully again!

Taxi into town

We were told that one can easily order an Uber from Bahia Falsa. We had to go get some groceries, so we paddled ashore, tied the kayak to a parked panga and opened the Uber app. But there was no available driver to be seen. Well, bad luck, we thought. When a sombrero vendor passed us, we asked him if he knew a taxi driver. He pulled out his mobile phone and called his hermano “Turbo”. Less than 15 minutes later, we were in his taxi heading for La Paz. It wasn’t really worth it, though, because the taxi there and back cost 25$, which is quite a lot for two 20-minute trips here in Mexico.

Swiss taxi drivers?

Three boats we had met in Peñasco were just anchored in La Paz. We arranged to meet them (the owners of the boats, that is) for tacos in town the next day. Given the taxi fares, that would be pretty expensive tacos, but if you don’t spoil yourself who will? And no, combining that with grocery shopping would certainly not have been possible *sigh*. We called Turbo for a ride into town. When we got into his taxi, we just had to ask him out if he had some Swiss blood. Because he was there exactly on time – we are not used people being reliable and on time anymore.

Beach Bar Safety

After a fun ex-Peñasco meet-up, we were lucky enough to find a taxi back immediately, because Turbo was off work at seven. Any fears that someone might have stolen our kayak in the meantime vanished immediately when we arrived at the beach and were immediately stopped by the night guard. For future evening trips into town, it was good to know that someone was there keeping watch.

A snorkelling trip

Jost also turned up in Bahia Falsa and spontaneously invited us on a snorkelling trip. It was a lucky coincidence that this was planned exactly on my birthday (my second here in Mexico). I thought it was an extremely fitting programme. We postponed the planned birthday dinner at El Toro Güero until the next day. And I decided anyway that I should celebrate a birthday week.

Birthday

At 6am (on my birthday!) Jost picked us up with his dinghy. We left Milagros alone at anchor for the day and sailed on Jost’s 42-foot Sun Odyssey. Our destination was a rock about 60 km away at the northern tip of Jacques Cousteau Island, which would offer a great snorkelling experience. There was also the possibility of seeing orcas, so diving instructor David also came along. Shortly before noon we anchored in front of the rock. As we approached, we saw several pangas fishing around the rock, and lowered our expectations. But before we put on our diving gear, we prepared a fish we had caught on the way for lunch.

Once upon a time…

Unfortunately, our concerns came true. The rock formation must have once been a beautiful snorkelling experience. But unfortunately, there was not much left to see. Still, here and there, for example, there were small blue glowing fish or the usual inedible suspects. And also, some fishing lures. I guess we can mentally prepare ourselves for encountering this kind of thing more often. Humanity is merciless. It’s pretty depressing.

We make the best of it

Three sea lions watched us from a distance, but no orcas, dolphins or whales made an appearance. The visibility was also only average. But that wasn’t too bad, because all the tiny animals in the water are the reason why the Sea of Cortez has or had such a great diversity of species. On the way back we looked at a few other possible snorkelling spots, but unfortunately the visibility was even worse there. So, we just enjoyed sailing. At least a humpback whale showed itself very briefly. We toasted the day with a beer and enjoyed sailing into the sunset. The diving was not what we had imagined, but the trip was still worth it.

A beautiful evening

On day 2 of my birthday week, I caught up on sleeping in, followed by coffee and pancakes by the bed. In the evening we met up with Nick and Janine from SV Rua Hatu, our former neighbours and fellow sufferers from Cabrales Boatyard. It was great to see them again! And the grilled octopus and the molcajete (ceviche in a stone barrel) at “Mariscos El Toro Güero” tasted great. Taking yet another taxi to the city was definitely worth it. It was a successful start to my birthday week – it can continue like this.

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Der Beitrag Sleepless Nights at Anchor erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

Planning along

It took two or three attempts to anchor in honeymoon cove, but our confidence in our anchoring equipment increased hour by hour. Despite strong gusts, Milagros stayed exactly where she should. The damage caused to the bow roller by the fishing boat in the harbour basin of Puerto Peñasco didn’t seem to affect the performance of our gear. So far so good. In our thoughts we were already further ahead, we wanted to move on with the next favourable weather window. Since there wasn’t much to do in the windy conditions outside anyway, we devoted ourselves to planning our route further south.

We have to hide again

It quickly became clear that after the north wind phase in Honeymoon Cove we only had a few days to quickly hide in a bay that is protected against north winds again. The weather forecast didn’t bode well. A northerly blow would be on the move again, this time an even stronger one than the one we were already waiting out in Honeymoon Cove. With a stopover in a pretty anchorage called “El Gato”, we decided to sail on to San Evaristo where we expected internet reception thanks to the fishing village of the same name. There we would wait out the next norther.

Where to stop?

We decided on El Gato because even with the north wind gone, we still needed a stop that was sheltered from waves. When the wind has been blowing for a few days, it usually takes a further while for the waves to calm down, too. It was decided, and when the wind situation calmed down, we weighed the anchor at the crack of dawn and were on our way again. The route briefly led back towards Puerto Peñasco so that we could circumnavigate the northern tip of the island on which Honeymoon Cove is located. Since an emergency situation was in progress at the southern tip, we didn’t want to get in the way. Nevertheless, after a few hours we were able to catch a glimpse of the motor yacht “Vixit” which ran aground on a reef the day before.

Fear and panic

The sail to El Gato was relatively uneventful. The first half took place exclusively under engine. This changed in the second half of the route where we actually got to sail. When we arrived at El Gato we had to take the plunge yet again. Was the bay really protected enough against the remaining waves? Did we dare to anchor in 5 meters of water? We just scouted the southern part of the bay with Anila, didn’t we? What happened if? What was first? The chicken or the egg? Questions upon questions. Nervous again. Our brains strained all sorts of webs about what could go wrong.

That’s not too bad

We almost gave in and bailed having already sailed past the turn towards the anchorage when we decided not to give in to our worries, turned around and anchored easily over sandy ground. The anchor held immediately, our communication was spot on, the landscape was stunningly beautiful as always. Time for an anchor beer. Eat this, common sense! It’s all a matter of experience. We’ve now noticed that everything isn’t half as difficult if we don’t drive ourselves crazy and just try things out. That was already the way to go during our refit, why should it be any different when on the water?

We’re too close to shore!

Right after the anchor beer it was to launch the dinghy and explore the area. Especially the beautiful sandstone formations on the shore looked like they were worth a look. A few campers had made themselves comfortable on the beach with their vans, it was warm, no cloud in the sky. Milagros was anchored close to the shore, so we decided not to mount the outboard motor at all. We just let the water float us to shore, while the sun shone on our bellies (which have gotten noticeably smaller in the last year but need a bit of tanning) Did we say Milagros was close to shore? Puff cake. Everything was put into perspective relatively quickly when we went ashore. Milagros was anchored faaaaaaar away from any possible danger. Seems to be a common phenomenon.

The sandstones of El Gato

The El Gato anchorage itself is known for impressive sandstone formations in its northern part and a reef in the southern part. In May 2021 we had visited the reef on Anila with Iñaki and Carmen equipped with diving goggles and snorkels, now the sandstones were due. We walked barefoot along the beach and were once again just amazed by the creations of mother earth. The sandstone lay there in orange, reddish-brown and beige tones, shaped by wind, weather and waves. Beautiful! Back on Milagros we let the day end and were surprised by one of the typical, colourful Baja sunsets. The next morning, with the first rays of the sun spreading over the horizon, we set off again, onwards to our destination that was San Evaristo.

We fall in love for the umpteenth time

And you know what? We could really sail this time! For hours, practically the whole distance, we had great wind and Milagros was once again able to show what she’s made of. We bought such a great boat. Every time we hoist the sails a burst of energy goes through the Milagros and we realize just how much the Kelly Peterson 44 was made to be sailed. As soon as the wind pilot and the boat were grooving and everything is well balanced, Milagros moves towards her destination like the force of nature that she is. And that destination was San Evaristo. When we reached the “Canal San José”, in which the entrance to San Evaristo is also located, we observed a catamaran crossing from one bank to the other and again and again. But their movement made no sense in terms of wind or waves. Was the boat on reconnaissance trip? Were they looking for something?

Same procedure as always

Shortly thereafter we arrived in San Evaristo. We got trapped in the same mind games as in El Gato. There were already a few other boats in the anchorage that had the same idea as us to hide from the next big blow from the north. First reaction? Can’t go there, too many boats, no space, everything would be too close, there’s waves wrapping into the bay. Past the entrance. But on second thought? What are we doing here? We turned back, assess the situation from up close and then anchored without the slightest issue. Easy peasy. Hello, San Evaristo, our name is Milagros. Nice to meet you!

Bad news

San Evaristo is characterized by steep rock formations and a fishing village of the same name that lies on a long beach. The residents have set up a cute little bar for the sailors (and probably also the many thirsty fishermen) where we could buy internet access as well as food and drinks. Hence our first appointment after cleaning up Milagros – the WiFi at the bar. Let’s see what’s going on in the world and get the weather report. Unfortunately, bad news. A catamaran with only a dog aboard had washed up just off Honeymoon Cove. No sign of the skipper. The internet was raging and people were busy searching for the owner via Facebook and other social media. Probably the catamaran that we saw earlier in the channel also was in search of the missing sailor. Not good, and the norther coming up wouldn’t make the search operations any easier either.

And then the norther arrived

Because as announced, the northerly blow arrived shortly after. Catabatic wind bursts of up to 30 knots whipped over the steep hills into the bay and pushed around the boats at anchor. Milagros endured the wind situation stoically (as did we), moved from left to right, and also this time around the anchor held firmly. We continuously monitored the situation on our tablets so that we could react if s*** hit the fan. That’s basically how the days passed. We also got to know Marcia and Peter from Chile on their “Frejya” and enjoyed a beer or two or ten with them. Exciting and fun people, but on a mission, because they’d be flying home again soon. Their plan was to store their boat somewhere in La Paz for safekeeping.

Persistance

We couldn’t do much more than sit tight and wait for the norther to die down. Again, we used the time we had to relax and plan further. The next stop on our way to La Paz should be Isla San Francisco, a yachtsman’s dream. Why it is that? You’ll see in the next blog post.

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Der Beitrag Hiding from the Blows erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

Everything was fine with Milagros again – as far as we knew – so we could finally start to plan our onward journey. Until we knew what exactly the problem with Milagros’ engine was, we didn’t want to make any plans. After all, it could have been possible that our burrito was no longer salvageable. In that case, we would have taken the next plane to Switzerland, looked for a new engine from there and declared the sailing season over. But fortunately, it didn’t turn out that way.

Honeymoon Cove

Opposite Puerto Escondido is Isla Danzante, where “Honeymoon Cove” is located at the northern tip of the island and can be reached in about an hour from Puerto Escondido. We chose it as our first anchorage so in case of a problem, we would quickly be back in Puerto Escondido or at least be able to get help, even with our dinghy. It was also well protected against the currently prevailing north winds. From there we could continue our journey south.

Gold diggers

Before we left, Anne and Colin from SV Paulina were kind enough to give us a lift in their car when they went shopping in Loreto. They run a gold mine in Canada on the Alaskan border. They extract gold grains and dust from gravel using water and gravity and melt them down into bars that contain about 80% pure gold. The business is seasonal, though, because up there in the far north, temperatures reach -45°C from October to March, so the gravel is frozen and not workable. Super interesting!

Refuelling

So, we stocked Milagros up again with water, propane and fresh food, and only diesel was missing. For us beginners, manoeuvring to the relatively tight diesel dock in the Marina felt too demanding – we packed our jerry cans into the dinghy and refuelled the boat this way. For us, refuelling is always interesting as our fuel gauges don’t work properly, so we only know mathematically how full our tanks are. And we only know approximately how big our two tanks are. We assume 30 to 35 gallons (115 to 135 litres) each.

We need certainty

However, my most recent calculations resulted in about 40 gallons (150 litres) each. But how much of it is usable, since a tank can never be completely emptied, is another question. If the opportunity arises, we will empty one of the tanks completely and fill it again, then we will know for sure. What is certain is that we could fill both tanks with 15 gallons each from our jerry cans that we brought from the diesel dock. This means we had an average diesel consumption of 2.5 l/h on our maiden voyage. And we usually calculate with 3 l/h (0.8 gph). That’s a good start.

Farewell to Puerto Escondido

20 days after our arrival, we left Puerto Escondido at 10 am for “Honeymoon Cove”. As we always take turns at mooring and casting off, this time it was my turn, and I did my first casting off manoeuvre from a buoy (if you don’t count the casting off manoeuvres in the sailing course on Lake Thun). The 45-minute trip to the island flew by and once there, I was also in charge of the anchor manoeuvre.

It wasn’t easy

The thricky part about anchoring in Honeymoon Cove is that the water remains very deep for a long time and then suddenly becomes shallower almost at a 45° angle. The anchor only held on the third try, but finally sat as planned in 9 m (30 ft) and we let out 55 m (180 ft) of chain – recommended are 5 – 7 times the water depth.

Already the first emergency

We realised that we had chosen a rather difficult terrain for anchoring when we observed other boats trying to anchor several times. The next morning, we suddenly saw a small boat gliding backwards out of the anchorage next door. Their anchor must have come loose! We radioed them immediately, seeing no one on deck, and started launching our dinghy so we could head over to them and help if needed. But luckily, we saw two people climbing on deck in their underwear shortly after, who quickly got the boat under control and set the anchor again.

Exploration tour

On the first day we explored the bay by inflatable kayak, our eco-friendly second car. On the island itself, there are many small paths leading up the different hills and to different bays. The landscape is very Baja style: barren and stony in reddish and greenish tones with cacti and tiny trees. In some places it looked as if a gardener had created our surroundings, since the many desert plants seemed to have grown in an almost too regular pattern. The waves crashed against the rocks on the north side and the north wind wrapped around the cliffs. On one of the hills, we even had mobile phone reception and a great view over the bay.

Anchor watch

As the wind was getting stronger and stronger and we had not yet gained confidence in our anchor and anchoring skills, we decided that one of us would always stay on the boat. It was somewhat irrational not to trust the anchor itself, as it had probably been on this boat since the beginning and must have served well in the past. But we activated our anchor alarm apps and regularly checked our position on OpenCPN. Better be safe than sorry.

Two birds with one stone

When David went fishing with the kayak, I took the opportunity to polish our stainless-steel railing and other things. In doing so, I killed two birds with one stone: I could observe the position of the boat and finally get rid of the rust spots that had been bugging me for a while. And finally, polishing not only serves visual purposes, but also prolongs the life of the material.

A call for help

There was a lot of traffic in the bay, and one afternoon we saw a superyacht anchoring next to us. Our new neighbours stayed for one night and travelled on the next day. That same afternoon we heard a “pan-pan” call over the radio on channel 16, the standard channel that all ships (should) monitor. A pan-pan radio call is the weakened form of “Mayday” and means that a ship or person is in danger, but the situation is not life-threatening.

Water ingress

The vessel in question reported that it had run aground on a rock 5 nautical miles south-east of Puerto Escondido or 1 nautical mile south of Isla Danzante and had holes in its hull, but that the bilge pumps were able to cope with the water ingress. The crew of the boat asked for assistance and towing if necessary. When asked about the size, the vessel said it was 53 m (175 ft) long. According to the captain, no one was injured, apart from a few egos. Then we remembered that it was our former neighbours who were in distress. The crew of the superyacht “Moonstone”, whose dinghy also had towed us to Puerto Escondido, immediately rushed to help. We also offered our help, but it was not needed.

What now?

As far as we understood, divers examined the hull and found that both stabilisers were damaged and had holes up to 20 cm in diameter. Also they had decided against towing the boat and in favour of professional salvage so that no diesel tanks could be damaged when the boat was pulled off the rock. The rock in question is in a nature reserve, is treacherous and lies about 1.5 m (5 ft) below the water surface at low tide. It would have been interesting to ask the captain how this could have happened. And we wondered if he is now out of a job and can never be employed again as captain of a superyacht after such a navigational error. Does anyone know what happens to a captain after such an incident?

Not exactly comfortable

Slowly we got used to life at anchor. Despite being sheltered from the roughest winds and waves “outside”, Milagros rocked in the light swells that still made it into the anchorage. And she was swinging back and forth in gusts of up to 30 knots (55 km/h) on the windiest day. Not exactly pleasant, especially as everything sounds ten times worse below deck: the gusts sweeping over the boat, the creaking of the anchor snubber and other sounds of the boat here and there.

Below deck

Since this wind from the north was quite cold and uncomfortable, we devoted ourselves to projects below deck. For example, we re-tensioned wooden slats from creaking floor hatches. We also reinstalled a floor support we had taken out when removing the water tanks and ran the watermaker daily and repaired a broken cockpit chair. Every now and then, one of us would row the kayak either to a cove around the corner on the outer edge of the island or ashore and climb the mountain to get some phone reception and see what was going on in the world. And we were amused by a group of about 20 kayakers camping on the beach. The opening of their toilet tent pointed directly at Milagros and none of the travellers feeling particularly observed by any boats in the anchorage when doing their business..

Further south

We could certainly get used to listening to music, reading, watching films. Or sitting in the cockpit watching the blue-footed boobies and pelicans dive for from the sky like projectiles. Or sighting dolphins. But we’re looking forward to warm enough water to swim and snorkel. And to spend a few nights at anchor without a strong north wind. So now we’re heading further south now.

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Der Beitrag Our Eventful First Anchorage erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

We were happy that our burrito (as we affectionately call our engine) was purring like a kitten again. We immediately took advantage of this to take Milagros for another test drive. This time Doug from SV Cat’s Paw accompanied us. At the same time, we decided to change marinas again. The Fonatur Marina only brought us bad luck! In addition, strong winds from the northwest were forecast, against which one is not very well protected in Fonatur Marina. This wind also prevented us from leaving Puerto Peñasco at all.

Miscellaneous projects

So, we turned our attention to the other projects on our list. For example, David serviced our Jabsco pump toilet. He took it completely apart, cleaned all the parts and installed new seals. We also removed the remains of our shaft brake and changed the oil filter and oil in the engine twice. Also, we took care of Betty, the yard car. We were convinced that she was still roadworthy. So, we fitted the spare wheel and took her back to the yard.

Voltage drop

Now that the engine was running again, we started it every morning to make sure it still was. But we were still not completely satisfied. It was difficult to get it going, especially in the morning. Sometimes it took several attempts before it started. Since we had already installed a new starter battery, a voltage drop in the cables or problems with the starter motor were possible. Together with our electrical consultant Cavu Dave, we took various volt measurements at different points in the starter system. We found a total voltage drop of 1.3 V in the thick cables to and from the battery.

A trip to the USA

We cleaned the terminals of the battery cables but found no improvement thereafter. In discussions with other sailors, we also found that the cables were too small. So, we decided to replace them. Since you couldn’t buy these cables in Peñasco and it simply took too long to order them, we decided to make a spontaneous trip to Phoenix. The next day, we packed what we needed and went to the nearest car rental agency, hoping that there was a car available for us. We were not disappointed. A short while later, we were on our way to the US. We had 360 km or 4 hours of driving ahead of us.

Beer and rest

Phoenix is not exactly a cheap place, but we found a hotel in Scottsdale that didn’t look too bad, and the price was still reasonable. And after all, this was our first holiday in half a year. By cvhance, the hotel was only a 5-minute walk from a brewery in the “old town”. We really enjoyed the peace and quiet, the cleanliness of the streets and the craft beer on offer!

On a shopping tour

We had a big shopping trip planned for the next day. The most important stop was at WestMarine, a shop for boat’s accessories, where we wanted to buy the cables. Apparently, there was a big demand for electrical cables at the moment, as we bought up the last metres available. Luckily, they still had exactly as much cable in stock as we needed. Unfortunately, there weren’t enough cable lugs of the needed size left. We left the shop a little depressed. The many wonderful things that can be used to improve the boat just cost an insane amount of money. The cables alone cost us$200…. We consoled ourselves with beer and chocolate from Trader Joe’s and 3 kg (6.5 pounds) of Skittles from WinCo.

Clichés fulfilled

We also didn’t miss the chance to stop at a classic diner. We were not disappointed – every cliché was fulfilled: heavily bleached hair, a thick layer of make-up and ornate fingernails on both waitresses, watery filter coffee à discretion, burgers for breakfast, the Vietnam veteran who thanked David with “thank you, young man” for holding the door open, and so on. And after the breakfast we were ready for the booster shot we had organised online at Walgreen’s the day before. Speaking of clichés, we also visited a gun shop where you could try out any weapon you wanted for $80 and up. There was even a Valentine’s Day deal for couples for $125. We didn’t shoot anything, though.

Other projects

Back in Penãsco, we installed the new gear we had bought in Phoenix. Now we have CO2 and smoke detectors in both bedrooms (so none of us can die unnoticed underway in case we have an exhaust leak). We also cut the new battery cables and pressed on cable lugs using SV Liquid’s hydraulic press. The start-up and testing of the engine were successful, and we felt that it started more smoothly now. In preparation for the big voyage, we also sealed the mast where it goes through the deck into the boat.

Getting the boat ready

We prepared the boat again for leaving Puerto Peñasco: we provisioned water and diesel, fruit and vegetables and everything else we needed. We had chosen a weather window that promised little wind. The new departure date was set for Friday, 11 February at 12:00 pm – 2.5 weeks after our first attempt. Like last time, the harbour master wanted to document our departure. But as he was off that day, he sent a deputy to be on site at 11.50 am sharp.

Where is he?

Fortunately, I had asked for the deputy’s number the day before and was able to call him when he still wasn’t there at 12.00 pm. Not that 10 minutes usually matter, but it was a flat tide that day and we didn’t want to get stuck at the harbour exit. On the phone he asked me which marina we were in – so he didn’t really have a clue where to go. Thirty minutes later, he was finally there. And David already had a bad feeling when he saw him: neatly polished black leather shoes in combination with a uniform are never a good sign.

And so it happened that he spent about half an hour asking us about the boat (fire extinguishers, signalling systems, life jackets, horsepower of the engine, etc.). We were starting to get nervous, and even the few Cabralians who had gathered to see us off were wondering what was going on.

On our maiden voyage

Just when the harbour master had finally finished and wanted to hand us the departure documents, we realised it was still the old one from our last leaving attempt. He still had to rewrite it and go back to the office to make a copy. We mentally prepared ourselves to postpone our departure to the next day when he said it would only take 5 minutes to do so. But lo and behold, 10 minutes later we had the document in our hands and could leave – with just over an hour’s delay. Accompanied by cheers, we cast off. The time had come – we started our maiden voyage!

We sail Milagros

As soon as we were out of the harbour, we hoisted the mainsail and set our tiller pilot on course for Santa Rosalia. On the way, a light breeze came up and we immediately unfurled the genoa and switched off the engine. WE SAILED MILAGROS! David took the first shift until 2:00 am and I the second until 8:00 am. So, I experienced my first sunrise on Milagros. It was a special feeling to be alone – just David, Milagros, and me – gliding over the glassy water in the middle of the ocean. Just a year ago we could not have imagined sailing the boat alone. At some point, sure, but not right away on our maiden voyage. But we were well prepared and had confidence in the strength of Milagros.

Right of way?

The first night was uneventful and the morning was also quiet. I took the opportunity to whip some line ends that were beginning to fray. During the day, the wind picked up, and we had to reef for the first time. We also had to dodge a large fishing boat that cared little that we were under sail and therefore had right of way.

Downwind

As we had the wind from behind, we had to sail downwind. This is quite a difficult course, especially when there is swell. And the danger of a chinese gybe, the unintentional turning of the stern through the wind, is high. The Chinese gybe is dangerous because the boom slams from side to side, describing an arc of about 180°. Many sailors have been gravely injured when hit in the head by the boom, and the forces involved can cause great damage to the rig. Therefore, we have installed a so-called boom preventer, a line to hold the boom in place.

We were happy

Normally, on the downwind course, the headsail is stabilised with a spinnaker pole, for example, so that it doesn’t collapse in the lee of the mainsail. However, we didn’t know how to do that and therefore had to settle for a collapsing sail once in a while. We found that it collapsed less if we reduced the sail area a little. Overall, we were happy with the sailing and the speed. If the wind were a little weaker, we could have hoisted a light wind sail on this course. But we only had one, which we would have had to exchange with the headsail, and we clearly didn’t want to do that.

The second night

Towards the evening we decided to take down the mainsail and sail only with the headsail. The wind had picekd up, and we didn’t want to be surprised by stronger winds at night. The foresail is quickly furled from the cockpit – for the mainsail someone must go forward to the mast. A Chinese gybe with the headsail is not too bad – the sail is then just backwards (on the wrong side of the boat) and you can steer onto a correct course and let it come back to the other side. As the waves also got bigger due to the wind picking up, it became more difficult to maintain the downwind course and we started the engine to help.

The wind picked up

As the night progressed, the wind got stronger and stronger, reaching up to 7 Beaufort in the morning. According to the Beaufort scale, that’s about 50-60 km/h of wind. The scale ranges from 0 to 12, with 12 being a storm with a wind force of more than 120 km/h. The sounds of the boat below deck were sometimes eerie, creaking and scratching. And we were a bit worried as our rigging was not yet 100% tuned.

The swell was also increasing, reaching up to around 9 feet around noon. In the meantime, we steered by hand and had no more sails up, because the course to Santa Rosalia was not very favourable, since on a good course the waves were at a weird angle to the boat, which made the movements of the boat uncomfortable. And we didn’t want them straight from the side. Nevertheless, every now and then we got a wave over the bow.

Santa Rosalia

When Santa Rosalia came into sight, we hailed the harbour to find out about the wind situation in the harbour basin and if there was a place for us. But no one answered. We began to wonder if we would even make it into the harbour in these conditions and if we could dock. We decided to go a little closer and have a look at the situation. As before, no one answered our radio query, and we began to doubt our radio range. And we were not sure what to do. Try or go somewhere else?

The disaster happens

When we were still about two nautical miles (about 3 km) from the harbour entrance, the engine suddenly stopped. There was brief panic on board – what should we do? Did we run out of diesel? But we should have been able to motor at least 60 hours with our tankage, which means 30 hours per tank, and we had switched tank 19 engine hours ago. It was 2:00 pm and we had been underway for 48 hours at this point and had covered 160 nautical miles. We were tired and all we really wanted was to finally arrive. All we knew was that we could not lose speed. Because no speed means no manoeuvrability.

We immediately unfurled the headsail and changed our course away from the harbour. We remembered what Carmen and Iñaki said: you can also sail a downwind course with just the headsail. In the meantime, Milagros was briefly up for sale, again. Fortunately, we had mobile phone reception and were able to contact other sailors who immediately offered advice and assistance.

Weighing up the options

Over the next few hours, we weighed up various options together. Should we anchor in a bay on a small island nearby? But what if we had no mobile phone or radio reception there and were stuck without an engine? And was it sheltered from the predicted westerly wind coming up in the next couple of days? Or should we sail around the island close to Santa Rosalia and anchor to the south, where there was a boat going back and forth to Santa Rosalia? Would we still arrive in daylight? Were there actually diesel mechanics in Santa Rosalia? And how do you anchor under sail anyway? Or should we just sail on for another night? Because there was enough wind according to the forecast. And as long as we could sail, we were safe.

Our new destination

In the end, we all agreed that we should go to a place where we wanted to be, where we were sheltered from the wind and where there were plenty of resources and services if needed. Puerto Escondido proved to be the obvious choice. It was about one hundred nautical miles from Santa Rosalia, had a marina and mooring field and we knew two boats there. There are no words to express how grateful we are for your support: Mike and Katie on SV Alegría, Dave and Marla on SV Cavu, Marc and Laura on SV Liquid and Marga on SV Dogfish!

We sail on

Sailing into yet another night that we had not planned for was special – our night shifts had dissipated. We were both tired and just took turns sleeping without a fixed schedule. But we treated ourselves to a homemade pizza, which turned out surprisingly well considering the conditions. The next morning, the wind had dropped a little and we were able to take care of our engine. While David sailed the boat, I prepared a diesel bypass below deck. Because we hoped that the engine had just sucked in air in the strong swell, and we could make it happy again with diesel and venting. Unfortunately, Burrito wouldn’t start even after the 5th time of bleeding. And we mentally prepared ourselves for having to organise a tow.

A perfect sailing day

Sailing under these conditions (approx. 20 knots / 35 km/h) was fun! Within a short time, we learned to reef (reduce sail area) and gybe with Milagros. The best crash course you can imagine. We also learned how to set our Hydrovane, our wind steering autopilot correctly, so we didn’t always have to steer by hand. If we hadn’t had the broken engine in the back of our minds, it would have been a perfect day of sailing.

The towing is organised

When we had mobile phone reception again, we contacted Merijn from SV Dappere Dodo and Pete from SV Mazu and described our situation. We also called the marina in Puerto Escondido and informed them of our situation. A little later Merijn got back to us with the good news that they had organised the tow into the marina. But about five nautical miles from Puerto Escondido, the wind died. Fortunately, we were in the middle of the channel, so there was no immediate danger of trashing Milagros on shore anywhere. After an hour of rocking back and forth and trying to be as comfortable as possible (unfurling a little bit of headsail gave us the best angle to the waves without the sail chafing against the rigging), word came in that they were on their way to us.

A happy ending

They had organised the dinghy of a superyacht, which with its 1’000 hp would have no problems with our fifteen tons. To tie Milagros to the dinghy, it suited us just fine that there was no wind. So we chugged leisurely towards Puerto Escondido. And with the last ray of sunshine, we picked up a mooring ball. Phuuuuu, what a maiden voyage! It took us about 75 hours to cover the 380 nautical miles (700 km). At the end of the evening, we were invited to dinner on Dodo and then fell into bed dead tired.

At this point, we are convinced that Milagros simply did not want to go to Santa Rosalia. She knows very wells that she is a sailboat and not a motorsailor and that we should sail her accordingly. Serves us right!

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Der Beitrag Our Maiden Voyage – a Hell of a Ride erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

After a few nice days with Silvia it was time to say goodbye again. Early in the morning Patricia and Carmen accompanied her to the airport. This was the official start of our trip back to the north of the Sea of ​​Cortez on Anila. But first, there were a few more clarifications and discussions to be had. There were two main reasons for this.

San Carlos instead of Peñasco

First of all, where would our journey lead us exactly? We only have a limited time frame because Carmen and Iñaki will be flying back to Switzerland to work in mid-June. In addition, they now tended to haul Anila out on the boatyard in San Carlos instead of Puerto Peñasco. San Carlos is about halfway from Puerto Peñasco and right next to Guaymas, where the two of them refitted their boat last year. The reason for this is simple.

Mexican welding skills

Anila’s rudder is showing its age and needs to be completely replaced. Since the rudder stock consists of several pieces of stainless steel, it has to be welded. The rudder is such a fundamental part of a boat that there is no room for error or problems. During their refit, Iñaki and Carmen found a welder who delivers top quality. Which is why San Carlos turned out to be their first choice for haul out. So it was decided. We’d be heading to San Carlos instead of Peñasco. And Pati and me would take the bus instead of boat for a large part of the way back to Milagros. We’d do the same bus trip as upon arrival in Mexico in January.

An unbeatable offer

The other point was that the two had stumbled upon a used Spectra watermaker. Bill from the Watermaker Guys, an expert on desalination on boats in the area, had this topnotch device on offer at an unbeatable price. They did not have a choice, so to speak, and took their chance. Since Iñaki wanted to install the watermaker before leaving, we postponed our departure from La Paz for a few more days. No problem, because now there was more time to prepare for the trip and leisurely watch our neighbors, the dolphins of La Paz. Lucky us, since they were swimming back and forth all day, every day, right next to Anila.

Faster, harder, scooter!

There was also time for a little partying of course. During the day Iñaki worked on the watermaker, in the evening beers were had with fellow cruisers. Either on Anila, with Ray on Sea Note, at SV Fickle, SV Bouby (a fellow sailor from Switzerland!) or SV Scooter. We took turns meeting on one of our boats, and good times were had way beyond cruiser’s midnight (which is approximately when the sun sets). It was particularly important that we were able to introduce Hank and Taylor on SV Scooter to the techno group of the same name, which is well known in Europe. Faster, harder, scooter! How much is the fish? The list of hits is long and the music is top notch.

Heeere we go again!

The installation of the watermaker went smoothly. And so it was time prepare for our trip back to the far north of the Sea of Cortez. In contrast to our delivery of Milagros, this time we’d have time to move comfortably from anchorage to anchorage. This combined with training sessions with Yachtmaster Iñaki. The first hop would lead us to the anchor bay “El Mezteño” in the northwest of the island “Espiritu Santo” north of La Paz. Mezteño has become a popular destination for Iñaki and Carmen in the last few months. So it was a matter of planning the passage, preparing the boat, lifting anchor. Off we went, early the next morning.

The most beautiful sail in the Gulf of California

The journey started perfectly. We had just enough wind to hoist the headsail and sail from the anchorage into the canal. Anyone who has read the blog post about our arrival in La Paz with Milagros knows the geography already. In the canal we hoisted the huge, sleek Oxley Levante Parasail from Anila about halfway. What a sail! We have already heard many hymns of praise for the Parasail from Iñaki & Carmen, now we were finally able to see it live in action. The Oxley Parasail even sports the same colours as Anila! It must have been a magnificent sight as we sailed up the canal. Unfortunately we didn’t have our camera drone with us. We would have been way too afraid to fly it anyway. We’ll need quite more training until we can do epic drone shots of a moving boat for you. The sail itself is worth its own blog post, more on that another time.

Mezteño, we are coming!

The trip to the anchor bay “El Mezteño” was pretty chill. At just under 20 nautical miles (37 kilometers) it was a short hop. On the way, Iñaki and Carmen explained the basics of light wind sailing and how to navigate to the anchorage. Since the island of Espiritu Santo is right at the gates of La Paz and has many beautiful anchorages, the frequency of other boats is correspondingly high. We had to keep our eyes open, even if we were only traveling at an average speed of just under 3 knots (5.5 km/h). When the wind got weaker and weaker, we had to take the sail down and turn on the engine. This way, we chugged to the anchorage.

The El Mezteño Anchorage

The anchorage itself is magnificent. Sea of ​​Cortez at its best. Crystal clear, turquoise water surrounded by dramatic rock formations. The entrance to the bay is easy, with enough space for anchoring maneuvers. We weren’t alone, a few excursion boats and charter catamarans had also made themselves comfortable. The residents were already busy snorkeling, paddling, swimming or sunbathing. No problem at all, Anila always finds a place somewhere with her 1.50 m draft.

Crab invasion

Of course, the paddleboard immediately was made ready and lowered into the water. Pati and Carmen went exploring the rocks while Iñaki and I did a little work on the boat. Cleaning the windows and underwater hull was the order of the day. Said and done. Equipped with snorkeling equipment and plastic spatulas, we plunged into the water and got to work. It had been some time since Iñaki cleared the hull of underwater growth. It was relatively soft, easy to remove and was populated by millions of tiny crabs. Deprived of their accommodation, they decided to reside on our wetsuits. What I didn’t notice, however, was that they were also looking for shelter elsewhere.

It lives!

When we finished cleaning, Iñaki and me were packed with krill from top to bottom. We were lucky that there weren’t any whales around. After we’d cleaned Anila’s belly, it was our turn. After a lot of scrubbing ourselves, repeated jumps into the water and a little patience, we were soon uninhabited again. I thought. Pati quickly discovered secret crab hiding grounds. In my beard! Since this of course offered the best holding, protection and moisture, a whole legion of little critters had made themselves comfortable way back in my facial hair.

There was only one way!

After a comb brought out the full extent of the beard invasion, there was only one solution. My beard had to go. So Pati got down to work with a hair trimmer. My beard couldn’t have stayed. Because soon, I would have carried a fishy smell on me. An Eau de Sea of ​​Cortez perfume, so to speak. I don’t know what the sight of a beard teeming with sea life looks like, but I could read it off from Pati’s facial expressions. Goodbye beard, hello babyface. I don’t want you to take a before-and-after picture. Nope.

See you next time, Mezteño!

Then it was time to start planning the trip to the next bay. The “Isla San Francisco”, another favorite place of Iñaki and Carmen and again almost 20 nautical miles further north was our destination. If you consider that in November 2020 we had left the entire Sea of ​​Cortez behind us in just two passages, this could only get better. Slowly but steadily forward, with enough time to linger and enjoy what the Sea of Cortez has to offer. Just the way it should be.

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Der Beitrag Our Journey Back North Begins erschien zuerst auf Milagros.