The Calm After the Storm

After the legendary birthday party for Cavu Dave, things were quiet in the anchorage. It was time to relax, detox, and chill. But it didn’t take long before our little fleet got the itch to sail again. It was time to find a new anchorage. Our next destination was the east side of Isla Carmen.

Off to New Adventures

Pati and I had recently circled the island, but as the Sea of Cortez offers almost unlimited anchoring options we hadn’t stopped at nearly all the spots we possibly could. When a weather window promising some sailing opened, we all set off one by one. Cavu and Alegria took off first, followed closely by Milagros. Crack and Crystal on Small World took it easy and stayed behind. Elana and Travis on Island Fox left us for a few days to meet friends further south but would rejoin us later.

The Race Begins

Our mission was to close the gap on Cavu and Alegria, who were far ahead. Once other sailboats are around and heading in the same direction, it’s a race. Always! It doesn’t matter if you know the people on the other boat or not and it doesn’t matter how far ahead or behind they are. It’s a race. No matter what.

Bye Bye, Alegria!

We started out pretty sporty with full sails up and after a couple of hours we managed to catch up to Alegria while the winds subsided and were very light. Why were we faster than them? No idea. We just were. An annoyed Alegria Mike radioed us with that very question, to which Pati couldn’t resist adding salt to the wound: “We have a Kelly Peterson 44, and skills, maybe.” she replied. He he he.

Meeting at Las Salinas

When the wind completely disappeared, we all turned on our engines and spent the night in two separate anchorages. We anchored with Cavu, and Alegria with Small World. Since a bit of north wind was expected, we met the next morning in “Las Salinas,” an anchorage well-protected to the north, and a spot Milagros hadn’t visited yet. Readers might remember: Last year, we were stuck for a few days in a nasty north wind in the bay right next to Las Salinas with Swan Song Pete and Momo Bernie. Once our fleet had arrived at the new spot, we spent the days at anchor hanging out, walking on the long sandy beach, and snorkeling near a shipwreck.

Wreck Diving

We had been told a few times how great the snorkeling was at the wreck. Now we had to see it for ourselves. We tied our dinghy to a very Mexican marking buoy: a white jerry can. The snorkeling turned out to be as great as everyone said: The water was teeming with countless fish of all sizes and kinds around and inside the wreck. We dove through huge schools of fish so dense that you could feel the temperature drop when the gap in the school closed above you, blocking out the sunlight. It was fascinating to see how the different schools were layered. Smaller fish on top, slightly bigger ones below, and the largest ones at the bottom, only visible when the others parted. A really cool experience.

Mike’s Sea of Cortez Barbershop

Later, it was haircut time for the whole group again. What could possibly be better than a good friend who’s discovered a passion for barbering? “Mike’s Sea of Cortez Barbershop” set up a tent on the beach, and we all got spruced up. Even a kid from another boat got a haircut; an undercut, to be precise. When her mom came flying to the beach in her dinghy, we expected a scolding. Instead, Mike had to cut her hair too.

Fishing Luck and Sushi

The fishing this season had been great for me. One evening, I cruised along the shore with a couple of beers in the dinghy, trailing a lure behind the boat. Just as I was daydreaming and thought I wouldn’t catch anything, I got bites and quickly reeled in two great snappers. They were turned into delicious sushi we shared with all our friends aboard Milagros.

Setting Off for Cholla Corner

With fresh haircuts looking good, bellies full, and a light southerly wind forecast, we left Las Salinas after a few peaceful days and nights. Mike and Katie had spotted a spot on the charts marked as “Cholla Corner,” not officially marked an anchorage but looking like a hidden gem. Our new destination was set. And just as we set off, my fishing season turned even better.

Tight Lines!

We had barely left Las Salinas when I caught a huge Mahi-Mahi. Mahi-Mahi (also called Dolphinfish) are some of the tastiest fish in the seven seas and are plentiful in the Sea of Cortez during summer. After filleting, we had 3.5 kg of mahi-mahi meat in the freezer. Yesssssss. It’s wild how much work it is to catch a fish on a sailboat. Especially the “cleaning the aftermath”-part. The giant had spread its scales, bloodstains, and other remnants all over our aft deck. We hope the pictures do his fight justice. It took the two of us to hold him down.

Paradise at Cholla Corner

Our new destination “Cholla Corner” turned out to be a little paradise. Small rocky and sandy beaches where the other boats could let their dogs run (we were the only boat without a dog), and perfect sandy bottoms for our anchors to hold securely. Life was good here. So off to the beach we went.

Floating Season Begins

As summer approached, temperatures were steadily rising. The water temperature was now just right. Floating season had officially begun. Floating doesn’t require much: a beach canopy, floating gear like paddleboards, swim rings, mats, or chairs, a hat on your head to protect you from the sun, and a beer in your hand (or both hands). The hours flew by as we stayed cool and hydrated. Finally, Kim on SV Salt and Randy and Jody on SV Free Luff joined our group. We were now a fleet of seven boats, a happy mix of monohulls, a catamaran, and a trimaran.

Suddenly, Drama!

Did I mention our anchors were holding well in the sandy bottom of Cholla Corner? One evening, just everyone had returned to their boats from the beach, a strong westerly wind came up, bringing waves into the anchorage. Nothing too serious, but Pati and I were just securing our kayak on deck when we heard a foghorn. We were shocked to see one of the boats drifting sideways toward another. The boats’ anchor had dragged, and it was adrift. Mike on Alegria had sounded the horn to alert us all to the impending danger.

Collective Response

Island Fox Travis reacted first, jumping into his dinghy to help. The rest of us stood by on our boats, deck lights and engines on, ready to assist or move out of the way if needed. Mike and Katie decided to re-anchor, which was challenging as their anchor wouldn’t find proper holding anymore either. But after several attempts, they succeeded. A brief scare early in the early evening right after sunset, with a few beers too many, but all ended well.

All’s Well that ends well

We reacted quickly and effectively as a team. No one held any grudges. We’re all literally in the same boat, and things like that can happen to anyone. That’s life on a boat for you—one moment, you’re sitting carefree on a sandy beach, and the next, things take a sudden turn. Starlink deserves credit too; apart from Mikes’ idea with the fog horn our WhatsApp group chat allowed us to quickly alert each other and be ready in record time.

The Last Stop

Soon, it was time for another change of scenery. Our happy little family would soon split up as everyone had different plans for the summer. Small World were headed north to Puerto Peñasco, Free Luff south to Loreto, Alegria to La Paz at the southern tip of Baja California, Cavu to Bahia Banderas on mainland Mexico, Salt and we were headed back to Guaymas and San Carlos respectively, while Island Fox wanted to summer in the Sea of Cortez.

Back to San Juanico

So, we had to agree on one last stop. After some grocery shopping in Loreto and a night at the trusty good old Isla Coronados, where did we end up? Well, guess. San Juanico, for the third time this season. We really hadn’t traveled far this year, but we had been busy nevertheless. San Juanico is awesome and some of our friends hadn’t been yet this season. We had the best time after the armada invaded the anchorage. Activities ranged from spearfishing and snorkeling, floating with beers, beach walks, watercolor painting, and yet another great birthday party for Cavu Marla, late into the night. This is the way!

Farewells

Unfortunately, one of the few constants in sailing life is saying goodbye to good people you’ve had a great time with. Everyone does their own thing while trying to spend as much time together as possible. For me, it was especially bittersweet saying goodbye to our friends after a wonderful time. A few weeks earlier, I had decided to “swallow the anchor” as sailors say. My adventures aboard Milagros would come to an end. After four years of living at breakneck speed and one adventure after another, I was ready to return to a “normal” life. I needed more stability, and I had felt that all year. I had been going back and forth for months, but now my decision was made. With a heavy heart, I shared the news as we all sat together on the beach one evening.

Return to Normal Life

After four years of living at breakneck speed and one adventure after another, I was ready to return to a “normal” life. I needed more stability in my life, and I had felt that all year. I had been going back and forth for months, but now my decision was made. With a heavy heart, I shared the news as we all sat together on the beach one evening. But that’s how it goes. Goodbye Free Luff, goodbye Small World, goodbye Alegria! See you soon! One by one, we had to wave goodbye to our great crew. More about my decision in a few weeks in the end-of-season post.

Waving our Goodbyes

Then it was time to bid farewell to part of the group. Goodbye Free Luff, goodbye Small World, goodbye Alegria! Thanks for all the good times and see you soon! One by one, they took off and disappeared on the horizon. Suddenly, our fleet of seven was down to four: Milagros, Cavu, Island Fox, and Salt. Next stop? Punta Pulpito.

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Der Beitrag Island Hopping And Good Times And Farewells erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

Julio – The Visa Agent’s Story

We find ourselves anchored in Bahia Catalina, Guaymas, a welcome return to civilisation after a fortnight in secluded anchorages. It’s Sunday, and our provisions are dwindling, necessitating a shopping trip. Our stay was not meant to be this extended. The urgency is palpable; we’re out of milk for our morning coffees, and even the powdered substitute is depleted. Bahia Catalina, perched on the outskirts of Guaymas, is barley accessible by car, a fact that deters most taxi drivers. Our usual go-to, César, is regrettably away, celebrating his father’s 76th birthday in Hermosillo, some 150km distant.

Resorting to WhatsApp, I liaise with a taxi firm. After some negotiation, they assure us of a pickup at noon. Yet, 12:20 rolls around with no sign of a taxi. Just then, a white car cruises past, executes a U-turn, and approaches us. The driver, a Mexican, rolls down his window to inquire about our destination. We’re headed to the centre, we inform him. Coincidentally, so is he, and he invites us to join him.

Conversing in fluent English, he reveals he hails from Monterrey, near the American border. His role as a visa agent brings him here, assisting a company in securing US visas for its Mexican employees. An unexpected extension of his stay led him to explore the local sights on TikTok, which is how he discovered Bahia Catalina and its stunning seaside stone arch.

Curious, we inquire about the complexity of obtaining a US work visa for Mexicans. He reassures us that it’s straightforward, barring any prior incidents. His expertise lies in arranging seasonal work visas for American agricultural enterprises. Business is thriving, with around 1,500 applications processed annually, a reflection of Americans’ reluctance to work on farms. His comprehensive service, priced at USD 650, covers accommodation, meals, and cross-border transport during the three-day visa procedure.

He then turns the conversation to us, asking about our line of work. We mention our involvement in social media management for small businesses. This piques his interest, and he wonders if we have a business card. Contact details are exchanged, pleasantries are shared, and he kindly drops us off at Walmart, marking the end of an unexpected yet enlightening encounter.

Alfonso – The Taxi Driver

We’ve just finished our shopping spree at Walmart, with milk for our morning coffee safely in tow. Now, the challenge is finding our way back to Bahia Catalina. But before that, we have a little detour to make. I stumbled upon an advert for Indian cuisine in a Facebook group and couldn’t resist ordering some Butter Chicken and Naan via WhatsApp. Picking it up is our next mission.

Our game plan involves summoning an Uber for this errand and then persuading the driver to take us all the way to the boat, even though Bahia Catalina lies beyond Uber’s usual operating area. Enter Alfonso, steering his Chevrolet Beat. We lay out our plan and ask him to quote us a price for the extended journey. He ponders for a moment, noting that the area’s remoteness makes it an unpopular destination for drivers. Eventually, he quotes us 150 pesos (USD 7.50).

As we drive, Alfonso inquires about our origins and our purpose here. We share that we’re from Switzerland, exploring on our boat, and turn the question back to him. He shares that he’s been taxiing for a few years, following a two-decade stint running his own video game store. But the business eventually took a downturn.

Alfonso confides that he harbours dreams of becoming a truck driver, armed with all the necessary permits, which he proudly indicates are stashed in a red folder between the seats. However, his lack of experience has been a stumbling block in securing employment. He’s even contemplating investing in his own truck, a 500,000 pesos (USD 25,000) investment, to kickstart his independent trucking venture.

As we pass a bus depot, Alfonso muses that while he could opt for bus driving, the earnings are modest (10,000 pesos / USD 500 per month) compared to what he can make as a taxi driver. Nearing Bahia Catalina, he reflects that it’s been two decades since his last visit. He hints at the area’s seclusion and potential dangers, given its isolation.

Upon arrival, Alfonso assists us with unloading our groceries and takes a moment to admire our small dinghy and the anchored boat. We express our gratitude, “mucho gusto,” pleased with the encounter, and hand him 200 pesos (USD 10) for his troubles. After all, it was quite a journey into the unknown.

Mario – The Author

I’m walking along the main road in Guaymas, with a blue duffle bag on my back, heading to the laundrette. I hear a “hola” behind me and ignore it. Then, a bit closer, I hear “hola, buenos dias” again. Not wanting to be rude, I respond with a “hola.” The young Mexican smiles at me and asks in good English if I’m an American tourist. I clarify that I’m from Europe, Switzerland. He expresses curiosity about what brings me so far from home, and I briefly mention my journey on the boat.

We continue side by side along the main road, which is also a construction site, dodging holes, piles of gravel, and barriers. He then offers to help with my backpack, but I politely decline. I ask him in return where he’s from and what he does. He’s a local, from Guaymas. He inquires if I’m familiar with “Creativo” in San Carlos, a creative studio that offers various courses like pottery and painting. He works there and suggests it’s a great place to meet people, mainly gringos (Americans). It’s easily accessible from Guaymas by bus. I dodge the suggestion; I’m not looking to take a course to meet new people. With the boat, I meet new people almost daily.

He asks if he can walk with me a bit longer and shares that he’s about to publish his first book, which he’s been working on for four years. Interested, I inquire about the book’s content. He shares his personal revelation he says, detailing his past struggles with drug addiction, single parenthood, depression, and suicidal thoughts. Seeking an escape, he ventured into the desert and experienced a transformative epiphany.

As we reach the laundrette, he expresses his gratitude for our exchange and heads back the way we came. He only wanted to withdraw money in the first place.

Francisco – The Versatile Helper

I’m anchored solo with Milagros in Guaymas, as David has set off for Hong Kong. Weary from a night disturbed by gusty winds, I still resolve to go ashore, craving some physical activity and needing to replenish our water reserves. I prepare to take two empty 20-litre bottles to shore, a task made manageable by the water refill station’s proximity, just 500 metres away. At the dock, I find a trolley I can borrow, easing the burden of my errand.

Midway to my destination, a car with its windows down pulls alongside me. The driver, calling me by name, offers assistance with the water bottles. It’s Francisco, a jack-of-all-trades day labourer familiar with all things nautical. We had been introduced by another sailor a few weeks back. Without hesitation, he’s out of his car, loading the bottles and trolley into his vehicle. He explains he’s just returned from San Carlos, where a promised job fell through. Now, he’s checking if there’s any work to be found here.

Together, we head to the water station and fill the bottles. Francisco insists on carrying the full bottles himself, a gesture of kindness I’m grateful for. We return to the marina, where he unloads the bottles and transfers them into the dinghy. I attempt to offer him a tip, but he refuses, stating it’s a favour among friends. He then hands me his number, suggesting I reach out if I ever need assistance again.

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Der Beitrag Journeys and Connections: A Week in Guaymas erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

It was that time of year again. I flew around the globe for work. I’ve been with my employer for over 10 years now and have travelled thousands of miles by air. I really enjoy business trips, even though in my current job they involve longer-than-average flights from Mexico to Asia. Since I once got a pilot’s license and I’m fascinated by anything that flies, I don’t mind the long flights at all. And I always look forward to seeing my workmates again.

A Rocky Start

This time, my travels took me back to Bangkok. Pati stayed alone on Milagros. Time in Thailand flew by, and soon I was back in Guaymas and aboard Milagros. Three months ago, we travelled to Mexico with the plan to stay in Guaymas for a maximum of three weeks. Yet here we were, still there. Three months had passed, and we still hadn’t set sail, and the boat was just sitting in a marina. This situation frustrated me massively upon my return, which didn’t exactly contribute to a good atmosphere on board.

Hard to Believe

Everything, absolutely everything, annoyed me. Life on a sailboat, I’m telling you. Sometimes we’re just exhausted and grumpy. We read and heard a lot beforehand. It’s a lot of work – it’s more work in every respect than we could have ever imagined. It’s fantastic – it’s breathtakingly beautiful and will leave a lasting impression on us. You have to experience it yourself to even begin to imagine this lifestyle. But enough of the meaningful talk. For where there is shade, there is also light. Apart from the friction, we’ve also experienced many great things again.

But the Journey Continues

Disclaimer, a load of tech-talk follows! Pati tackled many, many tasks on the boat while I was away. What was still missing was a regulator for our alternator. With our new lithium battery bank, it was in danger. Our new batteries can absorb many times more energy at once for charging than their predecessors. Actually, as much as they can. That makes them great, but also dangerous, because you practically have to protect the rest of the system from their energy cravings.

Safety First

Hungry lithium batteries in an unprotected system could overload individual components because they would want to draw too much power. And what happens with an overload and too much energy in an electrical system? Right – heat. And with too much heat? Exactly – sparks and fire. And what do we not want aboard Milagros? Correct – sparks and fire. So, we had to regulate the power supply for our new batteries.

Overload Protection

An alternator can be a victim of overload. Like in your car, it’s attached to the engine and converts the engine’s rotations into electricity. Depending on its size, an alternator can only deliver a limited amount of power. The lithium batteries on board Milagros couldn’t care less about this limit. They would simply suck the poor alternator dry, overload it, and burn it out.

Enter the Regulator

This is where the regulator comes into play. It is wired between the alternator and the batteries. As the name implies, it regulates the flow of electricity from the alternator to the batteries, allowing you to define exactly how much power the alternator should/must deliver. Fortunately, our two friends on SV Holoholo had exactly such a regulator lying around unused on board. And our electrical guru Lucas was still around, so we seized the opportunity to install it.

An Upgrade is Necessary

Lucas, as always, spent hours with us, patiently providing advice and assistance. In return, we fed him with everything the galley had to offer. And who would have thought? We needed a new, larger alternator. Our current alternator was too small for the new system. I’ll spare you more details; enough of another deep dive into boat technology.

Adding a Boat Touch

After the usual detours, a few days later we were proud owners of a new, over four times stronger, and affordable alternator. However, it needed some modifications to its wiring to convert it from “car mode” to “boat mode” – from an internal to an external regulator, to be precise. Easier said than done, as most Mexican workshops only know the “car mode”.

The Conversion Process

When we arrived at our trusted workshop with our new alternator, we felt that the mechanic had actually understood our instructions. We were even allowed to watch him make the adjustments. A young employee jumped in shock when unfamiliar faces suddenly appeared behind the counter. Unfortunately, in Mexico, that often means “attack,” and the alarm bells were ringing for him. Sorry for that! Shortly after, the boss got to work. Note the posters on the wall in the background. That’s what a real workshop should look like, right?

A Mexican-Style Conversion

Back on Milagros, what Lucas had secretly suspected (and what we had also suspected while watching) was confirmed. The adjustments were “mexicanized,” as we lovingly call it when it works but doesn’t have to be perfect or last long. In this case, the work was good enough for an old Mexican car, but not for a sailboat that can’t just pull over if it smokes and sparks in the engine room. So Lucas promptly took everything apart again and rebuilt it better. And behold – everything worked splendidly after installation.

A Genius at Work

We can’t thank the Polish kraken (Lucas) enough for his help. He is a living legend, who has even been honoured with T-shirts. He helps wherever he can on countless boats in Guaymas and San Carlos and is simply a genius. We don’t know what we would do without him. Unfortunately, because of his helpfulness, he neglects the work on his own boat, as he says.

Cheers to Lucas

We want to lend Lucas a helping hand, so all donations in the beer fund for this post will be reinvested directly into “Modelo Negro,” his Mexican beer of choice! So, get out your wallets and credit cards! Let’s make Lucas happy together! Click the link below the post (or this one) and help us replenish Lucas’s beer supply.

Ready, Set, Go

Now we were actually ready to set sail. Despite low morale on board, we wanted to take a shot and cover a one-and-a-half-day passage to Topolobampo as quickly as possible. You already know about our (non-existent) love for nighttime sailing. But one night should be doable. So, one morning, we set off bright and early. But it just wasn’t meant to be.

A bad start

As soon as we left our berth, Milagros did as she pleased. No matter how much I tried to steer, Milagros just did her own thing. So, we did a complete 360° pirouette in reverse in the marina basin, in very limited space with only one meter (3 ft) of water under the keel. All I could do was guide the boat through the turn in a controlled manner before we could exit the marina in the right direction. Luckily, no one saw that. The wind vane’s rudder was not fixed and thus completely distorted all my steering movements.

It Doesn’t Get Better

But that wasn’t all. We had barely left the supposedly safe marina basin when the stress continued. Not only had fishermen, with limitless foresight, laid a net across half the channel through which we had to exit. No, Pati had already positioned herself at the bow with a flashlight when we realized that we also had to navigate through a minefield of crab traps. Everywhere, floating PET bottles on ropes leading into the depths. First-class traps not only for crabs but also for boat propellers. Thanks for that, dear fishermen. So much for night sailing.

And Another Thing

Whoever thought that was it, is mistaken. Just as the passage was clear again and we wanted to put our little autopilot into operation on the open water, its plug spun and wouldn’t work. Too much for me. Screw Topolobampo, screw the Mexican mainland, Panama, and screw sailing altogether. Swearing and cursing, we anchored in Bahia Carricito. We didn’t know if our autopilot had kicked the bucket or simply had a loose connection. And with the bad mood, we weren’t in the mood for this long haul. So we missed the good weather window.

A rare sight

What lifted our mood though was a very unusual weather phenomenon: rain! It had been cloudy all morning that day, but when the rain started, it just wouldn’t stop. For one hour it just kept raining. You might wonder why rain would lift our mood. Because it never rains, and when it does, it’s usually just a few drops. So, we sat in the cockpit just enjoying this wonderful moment.

That’s It

And for the subsequent days, we just did absolutely nothing. Nada. Niente. When we had pulled ourselves together again, we quickly agreed on one thing – making day-long crossings and covering as many nautical miles southwards was simply not on the cards at the moment. The whole situation was a bit too fragile, and the nerves were severely strained. We decided to take it day by day. And behold – the moods calmed down again. Maybe we subconsciously put more pressure on ourselves with our Panama plans than we had thought.

You never stop learning, especially not on a sailboat. What happens next? Who knows – we have no idea. Time will tell. Anything is possible.

Der Beitrag Sailing Through Turbulent Waters erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

After 9 weeks at the boatyard in temperatures up to 47°C (120°F), we were relieved to be able to travel to Switzerland. I mean, who actually comes up with the foolish idea to end the season with boat work instead of chilling at anchor? It seemed like a good thing to do at the time of the decision, but well. Moreover, the painting work took 9 weeks instead of 6 weeks, which led to a mad rush towards the end.

Dire Forecasts

The icing on the cake – and what made us want to flee – happened when the yard moved Milagros from the work yard to the storage yard. Mario, who normally operates the travelift, had the day off, so the boatyard owner took over this task. It didn’t exactly fill us with confidence when he said he had last done it 2 years ago.

Quick getaway!

And our suspicions were confirmed. As the boat was being lifted, the forward sling slid back about 1ft, scratching the paint of the topsides and the fast stripe down to the primer over an area of 1sqft. Yes, that very topside into which we had put so much work in 2021. In addition to the installation of the new drive shaft, which had not made it to us before our departure, we now had another project on the list for after our return. We just wanted to go home.

We look forward to it

In Switzerland, our families welcomed us with a raclette on the farm. I don’t know if we’ve mentioned it before, but good cheese is rare in Mexico, so we always look forward to Swiss cheese. And we generally look forward to beautiful Switzerland: family, friends, forests, meadows, animals, food, the comfortable life that is structured and holds hardly any surprises. I can turn on the tap in the shower, and I know I’ll always have hot water. I can take the train to Basel, and know that it will be there at exactly 17:38.

Here are some impressions of our stay:

Over too soon

The time in Switzerland flew by. And shortly before our departure, we also said goodbye to my sister Carmen and Iñaki. They travelled back to Panama to their sailboat ‘Anila’. Next spring, they plan to sail from there across the Pacific and spend a year in French Polynesia.

Back again?

We ourselves were somehow not yet ready to return to the boat, to leave the comforts of Switzerland. To switch from planned to unpredictable, from fixed to flexible, to the other life on the sailboat, where I don’t yet know in the morning what the day will bring. We would have liked to stay a bit longer. And we had no desire to deal with the paint damage and the new drive shaft. And we didn’t look forward to the long journey of over 30 hours, which then extended to over 48 hours because our flight from London to Mexico City was cancelled.

All is well

But here we are now, back on Milagros. Everything is fine with her as far as we know. She has survived the 3 months unscathed. She was just a bit dusty. I would now like to say that we immediately threw ourselves into work. But we did not. We took it easy, nudging all the projects along. A lumbago shortly after our arrival forced me to take it easy anyway. We are now in Mexico, where mañana anything is possible. Saludos.

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Der Beitrag Leaving the Heat with Cheese in our Sights erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

We are currently enjoying our summer hiatus in Switzerland, taking time to savour the memories of the past sailing season. Rest assured, we’ll be back in action before you know it.

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Der Beitrag Charting Calm Waters: Our Seasonal Sail Break erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

It was slowly getting hot in Guaymas. And not just a little hot. We were sitting in a sweltering heat like we’ve probably never experienced before. The thermometer reached 40 degrees Celsius practically every day. And then there was the intensity of the sun, too. During the day we mostly hid in the coolness of the air conditioning in a small apartment we had rented for a couple of weeks. We didn’t want to stand on the feet of the painters working on our deck all the time and wanted to let them do their jobs.

Working in the Guaymas heat

The two painters David and Raul suffered from the heat, we could tell. When it got really hot, the pace of her work slowed noticeably. We can’t blame them. The work in the Guaymas oven is brutal. Drinking regularly, taking a break in the shade and not overdoing it was the way to go for them. Sometimes we almost had a guilty conscience towards the two.

Things are going well

But we could see: Something really impressive was on the way! The deck was the final piece in the puzzle for Milagros to become a little masterpiece. Our boat will appear completely transformed. Days and days of fairing and sanding work resulted in perfect surfaces. It’s laborious work but pays off in the end when painting. We ourselves would not have faired and sanded as much as the painting crew. But we didn’t do the work ourselves in the end so all we could do is shut up and watch.

Small projects

Apart from sitting around comfortably in the air conditioning, we also took care of smaller boat projects. For example, our new propeller shaft brake had arrived. The little piece of equipment should prevent us from bending our shaft again in the future. A shaft brake prevents the propeller from spinning freely while sailing. This results in much less stress on the material and less noise.

We also gave our teak a little love. We carefully washed it, lightened it and then oiled it. All with a practical 3-piece teak care set. Worked out great, and the result is really pretty.

Bigger projects

And at some point, the time had come: the first layer of paint was put on the deck! This in the form of a two-component epoxy resin primer, sealing and strengthening the surface. Because it consists of two components, the paint and a hardener, the paint layer is extremely strong. It will protect the old fiberglass of Milagros. After the job was done, we got a first impression of what Milagros would look like with the new paintjob. The white surface literally blinded our eyes. A great moment.

Hot, hot, hot, hot

And what came after the primer? Well, guess. The whole boat was again coated with putty and sanded. For days on end. At up to 47 degrees Celsius (116 °F) air temperature. We were getting tired of the heat. We can only imagine how the painting crew must have felt. Our foster cat Sailor was suffering too, panting when he met us for his food in the evenings. The heat in Guaymas is crazy. Time that we could finally go home. But we couldn’t. Not until our deck was finished. And what’s better than a cold beer to cool down?

Tasty craft beer just around the corner

As always in our blog posts and sailing career, beer is involved. The owner of the boatyard in Guaymas opened a Cervezeria right next to the boatyard with his brother (or so, I don’t remember exactly). Craft beer from Cervezeria Fauna is served there. Of course, we couldn’t miss the opening night. We sat there for hours with Tom and Keith (we met them back in the kingdom of El Mero) and tasted our way through the range of different cervezas. The Boatyard employees were there too, it was a cozy get-together.

Color layers and window delights

The days that followed passed as the ones before did. We passed the mornings working on our computers in the cool apartment we had rented for two weeks. In the evening we headed out into the heat to pay Milagros her daily visit. More layers of paint had been added onto Milagros in the meantime. The cabin was already done! So finally, we could devote ourselves to another monster project. In a moment of weakness, we decided to unmount, completely dismantle, rebedd and reinstall all the windows on Milagros again. Sounds good, but omfg. What a huge freaking job.

A monster of a project

Many a boat owner shies away from this very project. Rightly so. The window project really called for every skill we had learned since purchasing Milagros. I could write an entire blog post about the work on our windows alone. Here is a small excerpt of the work steps:

– Remove the windows

– Take a close look at everything

– Assess what needs to be done

– Find much more work than originally planned

– Seal and smear everything with fiberglass and epoxy

– Clean, drill, Dremel, sand the fiberglass and epoxy

– Clean the frames from a collection of old filler, putty and grout from over 40 years of Milagros

– Have new windows made

– Have everything made and corrected three times until it fits, because Mexico

– Ask yourself «why?»

– Glue the panes into the window frames in a huge mess

– Glue the fitted panes in the window frame, add those to another window frame

– Screw the frames in the frames tight together, add more sealant for yet another mess

– Before reinstalling the windows in the cabin walls, test EVERY ONE of the 100 screws and mark which one their screw hole is, because nothing fits like it did before

– Scream out loud

– Tear your hair (if you still have some)

– In an intermediate step, adapt window frames that do not fit to the windows with some more fairing

– Fit the window frames into the cabin wall with some more sealant in another monstrous mess

– Notice that it is too hot and the sealant dries too quickly

– Come back later

– Keep on sealing like crazy

– Be disturbed by the cat at the dumbest moment

– Just keep going because Sailor is a sweetheart

– Keep messing around all over the place until the job is done

Just like that

That’s pretty much how we remember the procedure. We don’t want to go into any further details here. We’re just glad it’s done. Woe betides a drop of water straying through the windows into our cabin in the future. At some point we were done and we couldn’t have done better. Not because we’re convinced that our job is perfect, but because we simply don’t know if we could have done it any better. Should you be reading this, own a boat and you are considering whether you want to tackle your windows: Think twice. Or maybe even thrice.

Milagros looks like new

And once our windows were in, the painters were soon done too: The deck paintjob was done. And what can we say? Our dear boat looks like new. The new deck paint makes a huuuuuuuge difference. David and Paul really did a great job. Unfortunately, bad news were just around the corner. Problems with our new prop shaft!

Oh crap!

When Salomon from the metal workshop arrived at the boatyard with the object of desire, it quickly became clear: There was a problem. The shaft bearing and the new shaft brake did not fit over the shaft. There was only one thing that could help: the prop shaft had to be taken back to the workshop and made to fit. Shortly afterwards the message came that a whole piece of stainless steel had to be ordered. A worker had simply removed too much material from the shaft in the workshop (2/1000 in instead of 1/1000 in!!!). After we had waited and waited and waited for weeks. Oh dear Mexico, sometimes you’re just a little too much for us. Now we can only take care of the shaft again when we return in winter.

We need to get outta here

Slowly the loooong season began to gnaw at our morale again. Too much heat, too much waiting, too much boatyard, too much boat work. Normally, early in the season, sailors spend a couple of weeks preparing their boats so they can head out as soon as possible when they return. We have spent too much time working on the boat this season. Yes, Milagros is in better shape than ever – but we’ve heard a few times that our working/sailing time ratio is completely out of control. Yes, this season was not easy. But our Swiss perfectionism simply doesn’t allow it any other way sometimes. Next season we will be sailing an absolute gem of a boat. Slowly but surely it was time to stow away Milagros and take a break again.

Mexican party

But before we flew home, there was another celebration in order. And this time, things got really Mexican. We were invited to the birthday party of boatyard employee and crane operator Mario. The event took place shortly before we left in an event hall he had rented for the evening. The two of us, our Australian friends Jen and Cam and about 50 Mexicans joined the party, which started cautiously. Everyone sat at their tables and listened to the warm-up band, a rock cover band made up of Mario’s friends. Armed with freezers and beer supplies, of course. The foreigners were eyed curiously from all sides.

Baila, Baila, Baila

It only really got going when cumbia, classical Mexican music, was put on. Everyone jumped out of their chairs and danced and danced and danced. To everyone’s surprise, the «Gringos» were also taking part in the dancing. The “DJ crew” was made by two dudes on drum sets with all kinds of kettledrums and other drumming equipment, who played along with the music from the speakers. With increasing beer consumption, the fear of contact disappeared and so we took all kinds of funny photos with the guests present. The evening was once again a reminder of what a great people the Mexicans are. Muchas Gracias!

A travel lift ride with consequences

Then it was soon time to move Milagros to their summer location. However, the changeover of locations did not go without damage to Milagros. I’ll spare you the details for now – we already reported on how we were treated by the yard in the last blog post. It shouldn’t get any better. And it won’t get any better in the future either. I can only say this much: We have definitely been to this boatyard for the first and last time. Despite advance warnings from various quarters, we decided to visit – and skilfully stepped in a pile of c***. We only have ourselves to blame. More on that another time.

The end is near

Because the work on our deck (did I notice that it turned out freaking AWESOME?) took a few weeks longer than expected, we had to cut all the preparatory work for the departure, which lasted about two weeks last time, into a few days. It turned out quite stressful. The day before we left, we worked our asses off from 5 a.m. to 10 p.m. just to get it done, after more prep work in the days before. The almost 30-hour return journey back home to Switzerland went smoothly. Time to clear your heads and gather anticipation for your return.

Bad news upon arrival

But as soon as we got home, we had to start worrying again. Facebook and WhatsApp are our main sources for all sailing related news from Mexico. And what did we see? As soon as we left, an impressive and violent storm swept over Guaymas and San Carlos in Mexico. The area is known for raging summer thunderstorms called Chubascos. But this time, things were different. In videos and photos, we saw a wall of wind and dust battering the region. Absurd wind speeds were measured everywhere, power went out, entire brick walls collapsed in the boatyard and more of the aging boatyard electric posts bit the dust and fell over.

And what about Milagros?

Fortunately, Milagros escaped unscathed, she weathered the storm well. But unfortunately bad news also reached us from other sailor friends. The kingdom of El Mero, for example, is no more. It was completely destroyed in the storm. Unfortunately, some friends’ boats were also affected when their dock lines failed and they were washed ashore. Elsewhere, some boats in dry dock have tipped off their stands. We hope for their owners that the damage is manageable.

What’s next?

Well, apparently we’re not spared any frightening moments at the other end of the planet either. That’s the way it is when you embark on an adventure like ours. Why we were more concerned in this case than the last times, we will tell in the next blog post. But for now, it’s time to recharge the sailboat batteries in Switzerland so that we can start another attempt towards the south with fresh motivation. Only the gods of the sea know how far we will come. Things happen all the time.

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Der Beitrag Lessons Learned and Memories Made erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

This time you’ll get to read a blog post from a different writer than usual, as I offered to take over this one. A brief introduction to myself: I am Hürzi, 34 years young, almost always in a good mood and an absolute novice when it comes to sailing. But I am highly motivated to experience new things. Fortunately, I did not embark on this journey alone, but with the professional support of Chrigi. He is also 34 years young, always good-looking and equipped with a sailing license for inland freshwater sailing. We were ready for an adventure at sea.

Where it all began

Years ago, when Pati and Dave told us that they had bought a sailing boat in Mexico and intended to live on it, we were initially amazed. When I asked Dave why, he replied, “There were about 100 reasons against it and about 3 in favor of it. So, the decision was an easy one.” After a brief reflection and, of course, 1-2 beers, we all agreed that it all made absolute sense! The idea to visit them arose relatively quickly. However, it was not until 2023 that it became a reality.

All aboard!

In preparation, we received a packing list from Pati and Dave with many useful but also bizarre items. Decathlon was an excellent point of contact for this. But what on earth were Crocs? After the obligatory Googling, it became clear that we really did need them… (I will explain why later.)

Hello Milagros

Once everything was packed (we did not buy Crocs), flights were booked, pet care was arranged, and our employers were reasonably satisfied with our plans, we were on our way to Mexico to visit Pati and Dave. We arrived at the airport in Puerto Vallarta without any complications, and the two of them greeted us. In no time, we were in La Cruz, a small suburb of Puerto Vallarta, and were able to load our luggage onto the dinghy.

We set off in calm waters in the darkness towards Milagros. Once we arrived on the boat and everything was stowed away, we could familiarize ourselves with the boat, including a crash course on the most important things. After all, a boat’s toilet must be operated correctly. The gentle swaying of the boat was also a bit unusual on the first night, but it became more familiar over the two weeks and gently rocked us to sleep.

Good morning Mexico

We couldn’t miss the first sunrise on the boat, so we unintentionally woke up a bit earlier and witnessed everything around us slowly gaining momentum. Fishermen were heading out to sea, the pelicans and seagulls gliding 3 inches above the water, and the smell of fresh coffee in the boat’s galley. On the first day, we visited a market at the local marina, where everything from the finest Mexican food and vegetables to art paintings and objects was offered. There were also two live bands on site, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Crocs?

On the way back to the boat, waves were already higher than usual, as thermal winds provided a stiff breeze every afternoon. However, Pati managed to maneuver us back to Milagros without getting too wet. But an unexpected wave hit us, and my sneakers were soaked with salty seawater. Pati gave me a sardonic smile and said, “See, that’s why you need Crocs.” (That was Crocs lesson number one.)

The first and only leg of the trip

Having satisfied our cravings for Mexican food and acquiring some souvenirs, we began planning our first leg of the journey. Our final destination, Zihuatanejo (I still can’t pronounce it correctly), was approximately 400 nautical miles away. We planned to reach it in several legs, including some overnight sailing. Our first trip was expected to last about 16 hours. So, we restocked our supplies the next day, and around 3 PM, we hoisted anchor. Prior to our departure, Pati and Dave warned us that we might get seasick. Fortunately, my nausea tablets were safely stored in the sleeping quarters. However, the wind was favorable, and we sailed towards our destination with a pleasant 13-knot breeze and relatively calm waves.

Do we have sea legs?

After about three hours, I had the brilliant idea of fetching my gloves and water bottle from the cabin (my initial preparation was dreadful). This decision caused me to feel unwell, and my complexion turned pale within 20 seconds. Dave quickly noticed and gave me one of his tablets, which took effect just in time. Chrigi remained relaxed throughout the journey and actively participated in sailing. As the temperature dropped after sunset, Pati, with her strong stomach, brought us some warmer clothes from below deck. Just as we were changing, a larger wave hit the boat, and Chrigi’s “nausea-free-since-03” record was ruined. Nevertheless, hats off to Chrigi for bouncing back and being 100% ready for action within minutes. I had never seen anything like it before.

An unpleasant surprise

Even after switching to motor power, the next few hours were peaceful, and the night sky became even more beautiful with stars illuminating it. The light pollution was zero. However, Pati surprised us with the news that the shaft seal was leaking pretty badly. Uh-oh… We had to choose between continuing on without knowing how well-equipped the nearby villages were for repairing the damage or turning around and heading back to La Cruz. We unanimously decided to return to familiar waters and deal with the significant problem. However, since there was no wind, it took about five hours of motoring to return. We were rewarded with rare and stunning green-blue bioluminescence in the water. Chrigi kept a vigilant eye out in the darkness and spotted another vessel to avoid. We returned to our old anchorage around 4 am and deserved some rest and sleep after the obligatory anchor beer.

Damage assessment and boat projects

The next day, we examined the damaged seal more closely and it was clear that it needed to be replaced. Since there were still 2 spare seals readily mounted on the shaft, this was theoretically feasible. However, could it be done with the boat in the water or did the boat need to be taken hauled out? Fortunately, we were not the first to ask this question. And with 2 quotes for hauling out for 15 minutes at $1,000 each, the decision was clear – it should be done in the water. But the preparation for it would take some time.

Small projects here and there

In the following days, we devoted ourselves to various boat projects. Chrigi and Pati decided to install a second bilge pump while they were at it. Dave and I worked on the boat’s electrical system. In case any readers ever have to do this: boat electrical systems do not follow rational physics and like to mislead you by principle. Since we were already so actively implementing several projects, we also changed the oil in the dinghy engine, repaired chipped drawers (fortunately for me with water-soluble glue), and laid a new hose for the bilge pumps through the interior of the boat.

The big moment

The replacement of the shaft seal also went smoothly. First, I sealed the shaft from the outside with toilet bowl wax. Then Pati and Chrigi changed the seal with almost no water ingress. Dave kept an eye on all of us, so that none of us deviated from the plan. After 15 minutes, that was done and we started the rest of the day in good spirits.

Meeting nice people

Our unexpected stay in the same place also had many beautiful sides. Chrigi and I were able to get to know other sailors as well. Hazel and Paul from SV Susimi were the first. The four of us explored the nightlife of La Cruz and found many delights while Paul shared some of his sailing adventures. Of course, a big topic was their upcoming Pacific crossing. Just imagine not having any land around you for about 30 days. Scary stuff. But the two of them were in good spirits.

Settler battles

On another lovely evening, Holly & Saxon from SV Sonrisa II and Brooke from SV Akhlut came over to Milagros for a delicious sushi dinner and stories from the Australian sailing community. After dinner, an intense game of Settlers of Catan ensued. This is never easy against Catan grandmaster Pati and can take several hours and nerves. At this point, cheers to everyone from cold and rainy Switzerland.

Pati’s 27th birthday (again)

During our time on board, we also celebrated Pati’s birthday. In secret, Dave, Chrigi, and I had thought about how we could make Pati happy on that day. Our choice fell on a homemade marble cake, a morning of surfing at the beach, lunchtime beers in the shade at the beach, and a fabulous dinner at a fancy restaurant. The day was a complete success, and Pati showed us boys how to behave as future surfing hopefuls from Aesch.

A wake-up call

Once again, the advantage of Crocs over sneakers became evident on the beach. While I tried not to get half of the beach into my shoes, Pati and Dave marched ahead carefree (Hello… Crocs wake-up call number 2).

Starboard, knots, and what the heck is luffing?

By now, it was clear that I should use the time on board to expand my non-existent knowledge of sailing and boats in general. Pati gave me “Sailing for Dummies” for this purpose. A book written as if it were written for me. With simple words and basics 😀 So I could finally participate a little in these conversations and over time, I understood what the three were talking about when they switched to sailor slang.

On to new, deep shores

With most of the pending projects completed, we wanted to test them out. So, we took some short trips in the huge bay of Puerto Vallarta and got to see some of the wildlife Mexico has to offer. Just 200 meters away from us, four humpback whales were leisurely swimming around. Even though we were only traveling at 4-5 knots, a school of dolphins (including a small baby dolphin) joined us and had fun swimming with our boat for about 20 minutes. Everything seemed to be working well after the repairs. The new seal wasn’t 100% tight, but it was much better and more reassuring than before.

It’s deep

We also decided to anchor in the bay of Yelapa for two nights. Well, in the loosest sense of the word “anchoring”… At our assigned spot in the bay, the depth was indicated as 44 meters (150 ft), about 50 meters away from the shore, which speaks to an extreme gradient. It was crazy compared to the 5–6-meter depth in La Cruz. Our anchor chain was nowhere near long enough for 44 meters. So, we had to grab onto a buoy. Now we really felt the waves from the Pacific, so we decided to set a stern anchor.

The stern anchor is no bueno

However, said stern anchor decided to drag in the middle of the night, triggering the anchor alarm. Pati and Dave put in a spontaneous hour of nightly work. They retrieved the anchor so professionally that Chrigi and I slept through it all. The sight of the stern anchor on board and our boat having turned 180 degrees did cause some surprise for us the next morning. But the next anchoring attempt worked perfectly.

Beautiful Nature

During the two days in Yelapa, we took great walks into nature and the village itself. The path to the waterfall was beautifully winding along the entire valley with a little river flowing in its center. Luckily, I had worn my sneakers…until the first spot where we had to cross the river without a bridge, it was definitely the right decision. While Pati and Dave leisurely strolled through the water in their Crocs, Chrigi and I tried our luck with the large stones in the riverbed.

We managed to cross to the other side with dry feet in a clean Frogger-style. “Harharhar!” Crocs are not a must. This time we won over the Croc-wearers…well, at least for the next 500 meters. Then we had to cross the river again, but without the help of big stones this time. We had to take our shoes off and put them back onto our wet feet. (Mhhh. Maybe Crocs would have been a good idea after all? Crocs wake-up call No.3)

A beautiful hike

We were rewarded with a delightful and refreshing freshwater bath at the waterfall. And on the way back, we even saw wild parrots heading towards the sea. We decided to walk back a little bit in the river. Our feet were already wet anyway. Same scenes as before. The two Croc-wearers walked ahead enjoying nature, while we barefoot people had to be careful not to step on sharp stones, giant spiders, or dead toads. (Heaven, I got it! Crocs would have been very useful for this vacation. It took four Crocs wake-up calls to figure it out).

The day ended with a delicious meal and beer at a restaurant. The sunset that evening left us speechless, and we began to understand why people are drawn here. We also enjoyed the second day exploring the village. We discovered some hidden hotels, small restaurants, and a construction site that was still supplied with donkeys and mules. What a sight in today’s time.

A close call

On our second to last day, we sailed comfortably with 11 knots of true wind back to La Cruz, so there was no rush on our return day for Chrigi and me. Even a humpback whale waved its tail fin cheerfully at us from a distance on the starboard side. Everything seemed to be working wonderfully. However, as we were about to switch to the motor after hauling in the mainsail and the jib just before La Cruz, the motor did not start as usual. When Pati shouted from below deck, “There’s a fire in the engine room,” a little bit of panic set in for each of us. The motor stop button also did not work as intended.

What now?

Since I knew the least about engines, I stayed at the helm and steered us in the direction where we had the most room to maneuver. Pati, Dave, and Chrigi tried various ideas to turn off the motor. With a diesel engine that runs and doesn’t want to shut down, it’s not an easy task. Suddenly, Pati jumped into the cockpit and pressed the motor’s shut-off button again, which luckily had an effect. Silence from below. But what now?

Report on the situation

First, a report on the situation. It quickly became clear that there was no fire, thankfully, but rather some oil had vaporized, causing the smoke. The problem was identified as the starter motor, which was likely stuck when starting and did not disengage after the engine started. This caused the starter motor to heat up and explain the smoke. Additionally, because the starter motor relay prevented simultaneous use of the stop button while it was engaged, we now understood why our first attempt to stop the motor was ineffective. So, we tried again. This time, everything worked smoothly without any smoke, and we headed back to our old anchorage. We definitely deserved a celebratory anchor beer this time.

Until next time

The day of departure had arrived, and it was time to say goodbye. The two weeks had passed by faster than expected. We loaded our practical duffel bags onto the dinghy and headed to the La Cruz marina to enjoy one last fresh seafood meal. We discussed the last few days and exchanged our impressions one more time. Chrigi and I would like to say thank you for allowing us to experience this adventure, even though it didn’t go as planned, it was simply perfect.

Lastly, the two of them ordered us a taxi, and after a proper goodbye hug, Chrigi and I headed back to Switzerland without any major issues. Well, almost problem-free, but that’s another exciting story.

Cheers, Hürzi

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Der Beitrag Adventure on Milagros – A Travel Report erschien zuerst auf Milagros.

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.

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.

We’ll be back on Milagros soon with new stories! Feel free to offer us a beer by clicking on the button! You can also become a monthly contributor by heading over to Patreon if you want! Thanks a lot!

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