Passage Journal: Cabo San Lucas to La Paz

It wasn't until we began planning this trip that I took any interest at all in geography.  When more and more people began talking to us about different routes and their favorite locations it became apparent that I had quite a bit of learning to do.  And in the process of reviewing globes and maps I found myself wondering "How will we ever do this in five years ... there are just too many miles to cover -- too many places to see!"  While the last two months have only reinforced that thought, they have also shown me that in many many ways our expansive world is really "A small world after all".  Along those lines I've always believed that there might be just a bit of truth in the "Eight degrees of Separation", but now I am fully convinced!  Perhaps you'll become convinced too ...

We left behind the circus of Cabo early Monday morning (Jan 19th).  We were finally headed up into the Sea of Cortez.  Other than the no wind factor, the day was beautiful.  We gave Pedro Jr. (the electrical auto pilot) a break  ... I took the wheel while Chris enjoyed a [very large] book.  With the rocking motion of the boat, the sun beaming down on me, and the relaxed atmosphere, you can easily understand how it is that I began drifting off (to sleep).  And you can just as easily imagine my surprise when I happened to lazily open my eyes and see two fisherman in a small ponga-like boat less than 15 yards off our starboard side!  "Oh Shit!" I said, sheepishly smiling at Chris as he jumped up ... "What do you mean you didn't see them there???".  Luckily the two fisherman didn't look too disturbed, I'm sure they had to wonder why we choose to motor by so close when we had the whole damn ocean, and I hope we didn't ruin any big catches for them ... but if they knew how close they came to cleaning the bottom of our boat they'd probably not care too much about the fish!  While I can easily joke about it now, I learned my lesson and no longer sleep while driving.

We had planned on stopping in Punta Los Frailes, but as the day wore on, the wind and swell picked up ... and of course they were both coming directly into our bow.  With the engine at full throttle we were barely making headway.  We went for the sails, but of course that meant tacking in order to try and hit Frailes.  It soon became clear that we weren't going to make Frailes before nightfall.  Rather then enter the anchorage in the dark we decided to continue up to Ensenada de los Muertos (the Bay of the Dead).  We arrived in Muertos around 7 a.m. on the 20th.  There wasn't much to the bay, some nice condo-like houses (owned by rich white people) and a "yacht club" (which seemed extremely out of place).  We've heard from a number of sources that there is some great diving and snorkeling in this area (although we didn't stay long enough to actually verify this -- plus the water temperature was still too cold for me to motivate).

We did a little bit of land exploration and decided to treat ourselves to a meal out and a cold beer (at the yacht club).  During our lunch a couple of guys were nearby watching a whale just outside the harbor.  Chris started up a conversation with them ... it turns out that Dave, a Canadian who is traveling through Baja in his land yacht "Nooki" along with his girlfriend Anna and dog Wood, was motor-biking at Punta Colnett Christmas Eve.

Punta Colnett: Our first international anchorage w/ Billabong's anchoring spot and Dave's Location

He recognized our boat and remembered Sea Pilgrim and Koinonia.  Dave had even taken some photographs of Billabong in the setting sun while anchored at Punta Colnett and had attempted to signal us with a flash light from shore! Currently they had motor-biked from La Ventana (where they were wind surfing) to Muertos for the day.  Before returning to Billabong, we gave them one of our cards and told them we would be in La Paz in the next day or so, for at least one to two weeks.  What were the odds that we would run into them at Muertos?

We returned to Billabong planning to nap, have an early dinner and then head out towards La Paz.  As we were preparing to lift the dinghy engine, we were interrupted by "beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep beeeeeeeeeeep...".  It was a new alarm noise for me, so I just stared blankly on as Chris began lifting our floor boards (turns out it was the bilge pump alarm).  We were just a bit disturbed to find a good seven inches of salt water (Chris did the taste test) floating around.  "Where could this be coming from?" Chris mumbles as he kneels over the water.  "Um, I didn't close the foot pump or galley through-hole" I mention timidly.  In that superman speed that I'm now becoming more accustomed to, Chris was under the galley sink closing both.  Sure enough it was the foot pump.  Apparently the pump was broken, and now siphoning water INTO the boat!  We spent the next few hours pumping out all the water, mopping up the bilges, and sorting through wet ziplocks (thankfully we tightly closed everything in the bilges).  After we had the mess somewhat cleaned up (rather than the naps we so desperately wanted), we decided to stay the night and leave for La Paz the next morning.

The trip to La Paz was (thankfully) uneventful.  Rather than enter La Paz at night we were going to anchor just outside at Puerto Ballandra.  However, while the chart we had showed we should've been in 18 feet of water, we were still showing 60 feet.  We kept inching closer and closer to shore, but were no where near 18 feet and it felt as though we were practically inches from some of the rocks.  "Screw this" ... we went for La Paz.

I was entertained by dozens of jumping, flipping rays.  They were black on top and white on bottom, and came sky rocketing out of the ocean, high into the air, and then ... black-white-black-white-black-white they flipped back down into the ocean with a loud splash.  They always seemed to jump in pairs, the second ray launching just as the first ray touched water.  I imagined a little competition going on down below;  Ray1 "check this out", Ray2 "oh yeah, watch this ... I got at least two more inches than you" ... and so on.  Or perhaps they were determined to fly ... "Come on Ray1 you can do just give a huge jump and flap away" .... "almost, here let me try ....".  Friends of ours who had cruised Mexico last season told us about these rays in Frailes, describing them as "popcorn" (because so many of them were jumping/landing that it sounded like popcorn popping).  Since then I have looked forward to Frailes, and therefore was a bit bummed when we missed it.  Seeing them on the way to La Paz made my day!



The entrance channel into La Paz is long and quite shallow.  We made our way easily enough, although the depths (hitting less than 12 feet at times) were be a bit disturbing at times.  At the end of the channel, you can cross over to anchor in the "Mogote" or you can anchor in the "Virtual Marina".  We decided to anchor in the Mogote.  We reviewed the charts to find the "entrance" (a sandbar separates the Mogote from the channel, and can only be crossed over to at one particular spot).  Chris was at the helm and reading off the depths ... "18 feet ... 15 feet ... 12 feet ... oh shit".  At that moment we hit 6.5 feet and hit bottom.  To say "hit" might be a bit of an exaggeration, it was really more like a nudge (we were going at an extremely slow pace).  Chris quickly backed the boat up before we got stuck.  We looked at the chart again (according to the chart we had been perfectly centered on the opening) ... knowing that the hurricanes that hit last season most likely made our charts obsolete, we were also basing our decision on the types of boats anchored in the Mogote ... i.e. we decided that the opening was most likely not near the catamarans.  We radioed the fleet asking for advice.  We were told to 'line-up' the municipal peer (on the mainland) and the fisherman's cross (on the Mogote).  The sun had already set, so we could not spot the fisherman's cross.  We guessed and tried across again -- with the same results (touching bottom).  It was a bit more difficult to back out of this one, it seemed when we backed up, Billabong swung just enough to back us up onto a different sandbar ... but with good maneuvering by Captain Chris we made it free again.  "Why can't we just anchor on this side" I asked.  At the time we weren't sure what the difference was, and Chris agreed that he'd rather anchor then try across again.  We could always move in the morning (when hopefully we could see the fisherman's cross).

It was two days later when we learned we had anchored in the "Virtual Marina" (aka Marina Santa Cruz").  The rumor has it that they have been trying to build the marina for a number of years, but every year one hurricane or another comes and wipes out their work.  In the meantime they charge you to anchor there!  Now that's entrepreneurial!  But at 30 pesos (three US dollars) a day, and access to trash, a dinghy dock, and showers we figured it was a good deal and stayed.  It also made for a drier dinghy ride to shore (less distance).

We spent most of the next day walking around La Paz checking in.  This was our first port with a Port Captain, and therefore the first time we actually had to go through the entire process.  It starts with a visit to Immigration, next move on down the road to pay your port entry fee to API, then walk to the near edge of town ... nowhere near any port ... to the Port Captain's office.  Think you're done?  Nope.  The port captain's fees must be paid ... but due to past years corruptions (at least that's the rumor I heard), you can't just pay the port captain directly.  Instead they give you the "bill", which you then take to the bank (which is way back in town, and nowhere near the P.C.'s office).  After paying at the bank, you have to take the receipt (which shows you paid) back to the P.C.'s office in order to finish the process.  All in all we figure it takes about three to four hours to do a full check-in or check-out (to check-out you have to repeat the whole process).

The 23rd was Chris's 37th birthday!  We celebrated with a trip into town and fish tacos at Chris's favorite taco stand (one that he had visited 10 years ago when down with a friend on the friend's boat).  Chris took me to the "Market", where I sighted my first skinned cow's & pig's heads! Back on the boat I made him carrot cake with cream cheese frosting and we devoured cake while he opened his presents (and yes, I sang happy birthday for him ... although so out of tune he probably would've preferred I'd skipped that part!).

A day later we pulled out the kayaks and paddled over to the Mogote.  We decided to land our kayaks and do some exploration on foot, which due to a 'swamp' inlet required some wading through the water, where I was stung by something (our best guess is a jelly fish), after which my knee sported fat red welts.  Our attempted shortcut across the little island-like sandbar found us traipsing through a very dense mangrove forest (mainly because we were to lazy and hot to turn back and re-trace our steps).  The next few days were pretty mellow, we spent most of our time walking about town or relaxing on the boat.  I made plans to return home in order to pick up our French Visas, and as it turned out, a friend of ours was coming down to Mexico and would be in the area the same week I'd be back in the states.

Prior to my departure we moved Billabong to Marina Palmira ... we didn't want Chris to be "single handing" in case bad weather hit, and this way he would be free to visit La Ventana with John (our friend who was coming down).  Nothing in cruising can come easy, and apparently this includes docking.  We confirmed with the marina three times which slip we were to take and that it was a starboard tie (we had even visited the Marina a few days prior to look at the available slips and get a feel for the place).  After the last two month's events I'm not sure why we were both so shocked to see a boat already docked in "our" slip.  Luckily the slip next to it was open (however it was a port tie), so as I frantically ran around moving fenders and dock lines, Chris tried to adjust our course for the other slip.  I'm sure we didn't look too graceful, and we had to call out to some guys walking down the dock for help, but we managed to park without ramming into anything and so I suppose you could say we were successful!  (The next time we entered the marina a few weeks later we prepared both the starboard and port side with dock lines and fenders ... just in case!!!)

In order to use mileage to fly home, I had to book my flight from Cabo San Jose, which meant a three hour bus ride from La Paz to Cabo.  After riding on the "about town" buses, and our few attempts to get time schedules for the inter-city buses (where we struggled with our little Spanish, pictures, and lots of hand motions) I was more than worried about my ability to make it to Cabo.  Would I get on the right bus?  What if we got the times/locations wrong and I ended up in Timbuktu?  Would I be able to get from the bus station to the airport? Would there be farm animals aboard (ok, this may seem like an odd one, but I'd heard stories ... later realizing the stories I heard were a good 10-20 years old!)?  I tried to convince Chris to take the bus with me, and then ride back with John (his plane was landing in Cabo an hour before my plane left).  But Chris assured me I would be fine.  And of course I was.  There were two buses loading at the same time, but I managed to get on the right one.  And when the bus stopped in Cabo San Lucas, my Spanish failed me when I attempted to ask if this same bus continued on to Cabo San Jose ... the passenger kept saying no, and just as I was about to get off (very confused), an American (who spoke Spanish) helped me out.  All I can figure is that the passenger thought I was asking if we were in San Jose, not if we were going to San Jose.  And the bus itself ... nicer than any Greyhound I've ever been on ... all that worrying for naught!

My week home was spent running around town, and back and forth to Los Angeles (for the French Visas).  Chris spent his time hanging out with John in La Paz and La Ventana ... mostly learning to kite board (you can read about his week 'alone' here).  I was a bit jealous (of Chris) because I felt that I was in a constant rush trying to get a list full of errands done, while Chris was hanging out ... and for the first time not worrying about or working on Billabong.  When it's just the two of us (Chris and I) and we are anchored out (versus tied up in a Marina), Chris is constantly watching Billabong, watching the weather, checking the tides and currents, and so on.  But during this week, with Billabong safely tied to the dock, he was able to relax and just hang out ... I wanted to be there for that!!!  I wanted to walk around town with him, without stopping to look out at Billabong or commenting on wind shifts.  On the other hand I was extremely happy that for once Chris was focused on other things (like kite boarding) and not "working on the boat"!  It was a week Chris truly deserved.  I realize that Chris was also missing out too, after all I was the one getting to see family and friends.  Seven days isn't much time though.  I left Ventura still aching to see so many people and a bit depressed that I didn't fit in a trip to Arizona to see the twins.

For my return to La Paz, I had new worries ... mainly customs (and physical strength).  I was bringing back about 100lbs of boat stuff.  How would I carry it all?  Would I get through customs?  As we were landing and I was filling out the customs form, one of the questions asked about fruit.  I happened to have eight oranges from my Grandpa (you might wonder why I would bring oranges back, but unless you've tasted these you just wouldn't understand).  For obvious reasons I did not want to get stopped by customs and have to go through all my bags and possibly pay taxes on the gear I was bringing in, so I check "no", no I was not brining in any fruit.  My plan was to simple throw away (sorry Grandpa) the oranges while waiting for my baggage.  My plan faltered when I realized there was no good place to do this inside.  Uh oh.  Now I started worrying that if I got the "red" light (meaning I had to be 'searched') and they found the oranges, then they would definitely go through everything that much closer.  I explained to one of the custom official helper guys that I had checked no, then realized I was carrying a few oranges.  He said just to check yes as well and explain it when I was passing through.  Oh great, now I had both "yes" and "no" filled in ... could I be any more of a target?  I picked up my luggage and drudgingly headed towards the customs area ... images of spending the next few hours explaining the 100lbs pounds of gear in my bag and trying to avoid import taxes lingered.  A very unsmiling female reached out for my form as I started to say, "I ...", ignoring me she said "Press the button".  I pressed and got the green light (for those who haven't been to Mexico, after gathering your luggage you go to a red light - green light stop sign, press a button ... if you get green you are free, if you get a read light then you are 'searched').  She didn't even look at my form, not even one glance, she started to ask "What were you say.....", but I just picked up my bags and went for the door ... oranges and all!  I decided I definitely stress too much!

When I finally made it back to Billabong (entailing another three hour bus ride to La Paz and a taxi to the marina) I was welcomed by Dave and Anna (and of course Chris)!  They had hooked up with Chris at La Paz, and later in La Ventana and were back in La Paz for the day.  After hearing tales of La Ventana and Baja Joe's (www.bajajoes.com) it was decided that Chris must take me there!  We hitched a ride with Dave and Anna the next morning.  I'll let you read Chris's description of La Ventana and Baja Joe's (available here), and just add that it was great ... the place, the people, and the wind!   Like Chris I also took lessons from B.J. (www.bjsadventures.com) and only wish we had stayed longer so I could get in more practice.  Unlike Chris I cannot get up (on the board) for longer than five seconds ... which means I was digesting quite a bit of salt water!  My more competitive side insists that I inform you that I did not spend as many days in La Ventana as Chris and did not have the prior kite training either (no way can I let Chris be getting up on the board sooner than me!!! Ha Ha).   Chris also bought me a couple of early Valentine's Day presents ... a smaller kite (which he flew but I have yet too ... wonder who that kite was really for!!!) and a harness.  After my lessons I learned that he was relieved that I can't really get up yet, otherwise we would need another board too!!!  He also bought me a necklace that one of the kite boarding pros, Chris Gilbert, makes "on the side"!  Oh, and it just happens that one of Chris Gilbert's sponsors is Billabong (the surf company)!!!  Small world huh?

We hitched a ride back to La Paz three days later with Claire, another guest of Baja Joe's that was returning home.  Maybe you aren't yet impressed with my small world coincidences yet, so here's another ... Claire works for an oil company (up in Alaska) ... it just happens to be the same oil company that one of Chris's friends (Eve) from Ventura works at -- and of course they (Claire and Eve) are friends!  Claire took some pictures of us and Billabong to email to Eve.

Chris had a bit of a shock the next morning, when he was randomly bitten by a dog (right in the behind ... or buttocks as Forrest Gump would say)!  Of course our first concern was rabies.  We spent the morning tracking down the dog's owner ... turns out the he wasn't officially owned by the Coast Marine (a local store at the Marina), but they did take care of any stray dogs who wondered into the Marina / Boat Yard.  They said that they take them to the Vet, get them fixed, and get them all their shots.  So Chris was safe!  They were concerned that he just bit Chris like that and said they'd keep an eye on him ... I learned that he had just come back from the Vet the day prior, from being fixed ... and well, if I was him I might be a bit irritably too!

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Murphy's Law

by Captain Myles



Just as we were leaving Ventura to start our adventures, I discovered we had a stowaway crew member. Maybe he felt like he needed to make his presence known because KT was in no shape to be active crew (emotions had gotten the best of her.. AND her family wasn’t even at the dock to say goodbye.) The crews name is Murphy as is “Murphy’s Law”. It states, anything that can go wrong will go wrong.. now that’s not a direct quote but after years in the “real world” I couldn’t agree more. I had spent pretty much the entire year thinking about what could go wrong, checking and double checking.. (Completely anal would not be an understatement). People kept asking if I was excited, I wasn’t.. I mean I knew that there would be lots of good times, beautiful places to explore and cool people to meet. Come on.. It doesn’t take much effort to think of your ultimate tropical beach moment, maybe a nice drink, a bikini clad woman.. heck include them both. That’s the easy part …even though people who knew me at work probably still think I’ll never be able to slow down enough to enjoy it. Instead I spent my energy going back and forth through all scenarios,  what if… then...we’ll do this.. I think I scared my sister out of her mind with the stories I read about true life tragedies at sea. But I felt we were as ready as we could be.

Just as we exited the break water we ran into our first dolphin.. a VERY good sign in marine folklore… I thought this is perfect, the sun was lowering to the horizon,  it was OUR day, to let it all soak in, focus on the act of leaving and let the reality of our adventure set in. I don’t know why but I decided to check on the engine.. (anal again I guess) but there was water pouring in the packing gland.. uh oh.. I had added a new packing gland in the yard and followed the instructions to a T. It was a little hard to get everything packed in while sideways on my belly with a mirror and flashlight in my mouth manipulating two wrenches. I wanted to make sure I didn’t have the maintenance hassle of standard packing gland (slowly drips to allow the prop shaft to keep cool while not allowing the boat to flood). So I spent a small fortune on a drip less long life packing material at least 10 times as expensive as the “standard stuff’.  I let the engine run as recommended  (even a little longer).. but I guess Murphy wanted his fun too . It turns out that the material had finally seated and threw out a little excess which let the water in.. about ten minutes later (and 10,000 sweat calories) everything was fine, but our new crew member had made his presence known.

That was the first of many adventures with Murphy. On the way down the coast he decided to play around with our fishing. We only caught fish when we were busy, reefing a sail, listening to a SSB net, or doing something else that required our full attention. For some reason those “we’re too busy” fish always stayed on the hook. We’d reel them in and quickly let them go, hoping to catch another fish later, “when we had time”. The sad part is that there were many times we actually focused on fishing, and caught absolutely nothing, or something so big that it would break the lure!!  If I double checked the line and knots, the lure would break, if I checked the lure,  the line would break. Certainly not life or death excitement but it sure was frustrating.

When we were on our way to Cabo San Lucas, we hit our first lightening storm (off in the distance) KT thought I was hearing things but I knew it was there.. of course it was, Murphy had delayed the shipment of our lightening protection and we would not be able to install it until KT got back from her trip to the states.. “We won’t hit lightening by then” I thought.. “oh yeah” said Murphy. Luckily I had a backup plan (chain around the upper stays) that worked (i.e.. It kept my heart rate below 180 while the lightening flashed on the horizon all around us).

While we were in Cabo we were trying to find a spot in the deep harbor (75+ feet) where we could anchor.. It was blowing 15 knots down the beach with big powerboats all around, and a sailboat that had gone aground high on the beach. There were jet skis buzzing all around, people were falling off right in our path to a shoal area (with a nice view of the boat on the beach). We had done our circle check to make sure we had swinging room all around when the engine overheat alarm went off. We VERY quickly anchored, set the anchor and shut off the engine. Yikes. The fan belt was shattered.. Why couldn’t it have happened on the eerie glass calm night two days prior to Cabo?  Because Murphy wanted it this way. It also helped teach me a lesson..

While we were getting the boat ready, I decided to put alarms on anything and everything that could go wrong so we could tell even on a rough night with lots of background noise.. Bilge pumps got an alarm, who’s gonna hear the bilge pumps under the floor boards?  Thanks to a couple of people on the dock, I added an exhaust temperature alarm which goes off if the cooling pump gets blocked or the impellor breaks, The engine has a temp gauge AND alarm (actually two alarms). The only thing I didn’t add was the alternator low voltage alarm which signals when the alternator is not working correctly .. “like when a fan belt breaks”. I thought it’s a new belt, I need “something” to do while I’m “bored” so I’ll bring it as a project. Oops.. Guess what my newest alarm is?

The bilge pump alarm has actually saved us from a lot of damage already. Before each trip (and during long trips) I check the bilge to make sure it is empty. I know it’s a dry boat so any water there has to be coming from somewhere.. bad!! While we were anchored in Bahia de los Muertos (Bay of the Dead) we were having a VERY rare lunch out and sipping on cold beers, having a VERY small world experience (more on that later). We were all relaxed happy having met some new people getting ready for a relaxing afternoon on the boat when … beeeeeeeep beeeeeeep.. just as we were stepping on board.. huhhhh??!?

I lifted up the floorboards to find 8 inches of salt water (you have to taste it to know if it’s fresh from the tanks or salt from .. oh $#%@ we’re sinking). It turned out the salt water foot pump check valve had broken and was filling the boat as fast as possible through a ¾ inch hose.. which seems pretty quick when your out in the middle of nowhere.

I don’t consider myself a worrier but more of a thinker who thinks of options before they happen. I met Lynn and Larry Pardey (famous sailors) once and they said that you should always be thinking of escape strategies. Once it’s second nature, things start getting “luckier”. There is actually a theory specifically related to seamanship..

“Vigor’s Black Box Theory”

The basis of the theory is that there is no such thing as fortuitous luck at sea.  The reason why some boaters survive storms or have fewer accidents than others is that they earn their luck” by diligent and constant acts of seamanship. 

Aboard every boat there’s an invisible black box.  Every time a skipper takes the trouble to consult the chart, inspect the filters, go forward on a rainy night to check the running lights, or take any proper seamanlike precaution; he or she earns a point that goes into the black box. 

In times of stress, in heavy weather or other threatening circumstances where human skill and effort can accomplish no more, the points are cashed in as protection.  The skipper has no control over their withdrawal.  They withdraw themselves, as appropriate. Those skippers with no points in the box are the ones later described as “unlucky”. Those with points to spend will survive – but they must start immediately to replenish their savings, for the sea offers no credit.  

This method of “earning luck” was well known in the practice, if not in theory, to sailors in square-riggers, who were told:

               For six days thou shalt do all that thou art able;
               And on the seventh, holystone the decks and scrape the cable.

I could be the poster boy of someone who tries to earn their luck. We always walk the boat before setting sail to make sure we haven’t put the wrong sheet under the dingy tie-downs, that the interior is all tied down and ready for heavy weather etc. The times we haven’t done it are the times we’ve ended up needing too. I guess Murphy wants to keep reminding us. I actually think we have been very fortunate with very few (knock on wood) mishaps.. although I know Murphy has been spotted crewing on other boats as well.. when Sea Pilgrim NEEDS their rechargeable spot light .. the batteries go dead at that oh so critical point.. and EVERYONE knows that the minute you untie the dingy from its attachment point, the engine dies. It’s a fact of cruising life!!!

It is amazing how many people just go with it.. I’ve seen plenty of boats enter an anchorage drop their chain in a big pile and go ashore or down below.. How/why do they survive? I watched one charter boat fly through an anchorage dragging their anchor .. only to stop and say its set.. while still moving backwards at 3.5 knots. The only reason we knew what they were saying is because they were sooo close to us!! I even offered (quite politely I might add) how to check the anchor in these “strange” bottom conditions in preparation for the nightly “35” knot blow.. “What are the conditions, what’s the weather supposed to be, are we moving?” Were their questions! Did they re-set .. nope although after bout a 5 minute anchor stare fest on the bow the captain went below to enjoy a nice quiet evening.. and of course it didn’t bow!! Another multi-million dollar power boat set their anchor at least five times in 15 feet of water only to drag half way through the anchorage each time the wind hit 15 knots . When I asked if they were spending the night, they said yes.. when I let them know I thought they were dragging  they said they knew they were and that they had us on radar and were keeping an eye out.. yikes!! This was a 65 foot boat with an anchor smaller than any of the six I have on board.

I don’t know maybe this black box theory and Murphy’s law are just something I use to occupy my mind.. but it certainly keeps me from worrying too much and makes me feel that I am doing something proactive. I wouldn’t say I’m relaxed at the same level as an Olympic class athletes resting heart rate, but I figure with this relaxed lifestyle I don’t get much anaerobic exercise , so a little elevation in heart rate once in awhile is kind of like exercise.. yeah that’s it!!

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Passage Journal: Turtle Bay to Cabo San Lucas

January 25, 2004

Route covered by this post

I've been hearing (or reading via email rather) a lot of "what's going on with the website".  O.K., I'm a bit behind, but when faced with the choice of sitting below deck on the computer versus kayaking, exploring towns, or kite surfing, well you can imagine which I pick.  Before leaving Ventura we had a number of other cruisers tell us to "take projects", "bring lots of books", "you'll have sooo much time", etc etc .... we aren't sure what we are doing different, but I can honestly say it doesn't feel like there are near enough hours in the day.  By the time this journal hits the website, it will already be mid February.  We are still planning on crossing to the South Pacific towards the mid to end of March -- only one month away!  Where did all the time go?  Originally we thought we'd make it all the way to Zihuatanejo, but now we will be lucky to hit Puerto Vallarta with enough time to complete some last minute preparations!  We aren't complaining, we've loved every minute of it, and would definitely not go any faster.  It does make us wonder though, will five years really be enough?

Anyway, on with the last month's events ...

We stayed in Turtle Bay for a full week, departing on Jan. 16th.  All in all it was an absolutely wonderful week.  I was a bit nervous when we first arrived because we were instantly greeted (or attacked depending on how you look at it) by a Ponga and a small rowboat.  The local in the Ponga informed us he was the BEST source for clean diesel, then continued to circle around us, huge smile, just watching (or lurking).  The kids in the rowboat stayed their distance until we had finished anchoring and killed the engine, none-the-less, as a newbie I’m not a fan of anchoring with an audience.

The kids rowed over to our boat, grabbing hold of our foot rail, at which point Chris says "you're the one who speaks Spanish".  To this day I'm still unsure of where Chris got the idea that I speak Spanish [he says it’s the three years of high school Spanish that I took, but come on, that was High School … “My name is KT”, “My sister is pretty”, and “It is very hot today” can only get you so far].  But what the hell, I grabbed the 'ol Spanish book and went on deck.  I managed to ask how they were, what their names were, and what the dogs name was.  They were polite enough, but I could not figure out what they wanted.  So we sat there, me thumbing through my book cursing myself for not actually listening to those Spanish CDs, they, hanging on the Billabong not saying a word.  The best I could think to say would've translated directly as "What want?".  That just seemed harsh to me, after all, wasn't I the guest?  Finally I went with it, because after 10 minutes of them still not asking for anything or attempting any communication, just hanging on the side of our boat (occasionally bumping into her hull with their metal row boat), I decided I didn't care if I sounded rude. They were there for Garbage (and money of course).  Chris and I contributed and they were off.  Ironically when we came ashore later, there were our two trash bags, just sitting to the side of a building ... ahh yes money well spent!

While Turtle Bay is a small town with lots of Fisherman, it's a huge step up from the fishing camps we'd passed on the way.  There are no paved roads, and you could easily walk anywhere you needed to go, but oddly everyone appeared to be driving.  Sure, they most likely needed cars in order to get into major cities, but we couldn’t figure out why so many of them were driving (rather than walking) about town.

We were surprised to find an Internet location at all ... let alone one with five computers and USB connections.  Of course our first few days there THE [i.e. singular] town generator was down, and when it was finally up the connections were rather slow ... but we were pleased just to be able to read a few emails.

Our friends from Sea Pilgrim arrived a few days after us (they had stopped at San Benitos and Cedros Island) ... and when they came, they came bearing lobsters!  We feasted on their boat, followed by a game of Hoopla (great game if you haven’t tried it).

The next morning, we spotted a set of dolphins in the anchorage … we’d seem them roaming around every morning.  They seemed so casual and relaxed that I was convinced that they wouldn’t mind hanging out with me for a bit.  So despite rather cold-water temperatures, I jumped in the kayak and went racing after them.  First I tried the “in cognito” approach … coming in under cover (or as quietly as possible).  While I don’t think they cared one bit that I was there, they continued to swim beyond my reach.  Next I tried the “beat them there” approach … I could predict where they were going by the birds - the dolphins seemed to be feeding, and the location of dense gathering of birds pointed out prime fish eating spots.  Using this method I was able to get somewhat close, but not the put-out-my-hand-and-touch-them closeness that I desired.  Finally I went with the “all-out” approach … frantically racing after them, and sometimes imagining that my wake would be enough for them to want to come back and play (as they do with the bow of the boat) … hee hee.  Unfortunately they were just too fast.  I decided that the seals provided an easier target.

I began by casually stalking the seals.  I thought that if I just kept paddling around them, they would get used to me, perhaps accept me as “their own”, or that their curiosity would get them to come closer.  But they always kept me at a 'safe' distance, and soon I think my stalking became annoying, because one of them continuously barked at me every time he came up.  He would look in my direction with that “you … still … ARGH”, give me a few barks (which I returned), and dive back under.  I gave up on the being accepted tactic and went to all out sneak attacks.  One seal was casually napping in the water as I drifted over, I was so near, just about there, when he casually looked up, and oh the shock in his face!  He instantly jumped, stared me down and dove under.  I laughed out loud.

I probably spent a good two or three hours kayaking around, loving ever minute of it.  It was so perfect, so serene, and even though I couldn’t get within touching distance of the dolphins, seals, or pelicans, I felt like I belonged.  It sounds silly, but I don’t know how else to explain it.  It was so silent and calm, that I would just sit in the anchorage listening to the whoosh-whoosh-whoosh overheard as the pelicans flew by, followed by huge KURPLUNKs as they bomb-dived the water for the latest catch.  The seals with their human sounding breaths every time they surfaced, along with their loud BARK BARK BARKs whenever they noticed me.  And finally the phoo-phoo-phoo as the dolphins surfaced.   It was an collage of sounds, and I could’ve sat there forever … I didn’t even want to paddle as it interrupted the melody.  [BTW … I just spent five minutes sitting here in the cockpit with Chris trying to come up with the sounds – yep, that’s the cruising life!!!]

The next day, after checking email, we blew up our two-man kayak and launched our two individual top-riders and set out for the “other side” with Brian and Teri.  It was a long paddle over (later to discover 8 nautical miles round trip), but worth the effort.  A huge kelp forest and a small sea lion (or seal) family made for some great kayaking.  We also witnessed a true bird feeding frenzy – if only we could’ve recorded the sounds, I won’t even attempt it here!

The day after next, we did a bit of hiking which provided some great views of the town and our boats anchored below.

On the 15th we had a ‘final’ dinner on Billabong followed by a Cranium re-match (again Sea Pilgrim kicked our booties).  The 16th we departed, Sea Pilgrim was staying a few additional days, and would most likely spend more time in Magdalena Bay then us, so we weren’t sure when we would see them again.

As I write this we are listening to the Bluewater Net (via SSB radio), and Sea Pilgrim has contacted us … they are still in Mag Bay.  I’m worried that we won’t meet up with them in La Paz.  This I’ve decided is one of the bummers about this life.  You arrive somewhere new and its great … new things, new people, hopefully new friends.  But eventually you leave, or they leave.  It was hard to leave Ventura – and that will always be the hardest good-bye, but now I realize that the next five years are going to full of good-byes.  I recognize that on the other side of the coin we are going to meet more people and be introduced to more cultures then possible if we stay rooted in one spot, but that recognition doesn’t fully relieve the sadness that hits me every time we pull anchor.

While we had no wind on our passage to Santa Maria, it was not a boring passage.  For the first time in my life I watched the entire moon rise, from start to finish!

Journal Entry:  At first it was if a large cruise ship might be coming over the horizon, but rather what appears is the very tip of the moon and it slowly rises, transforming into a gigantic Halloween-orange ball, glowing, shedding its orange rays across the water.  As it rises, sitting just on the edge of the waters horizon, it’s as though you could easily swim to it, reaching out and capturing the glow (which is so orange and bright that the color alone feels warm) within your arms, embracing it.  And then, as if the moon is modest, and perhaps slightly embarrassed by your staring, it slips partially beyond a thin, low hanging cloud.  But not completely – just enough to make it mysterious – to make you anxiously await its return.  And as to not disappoint, the moon reappears, swiftly, gracefully above the cloud.  Still burning orange, but no longer seeming to be  within reach.  And it rises.  Lighting up the night, keeping you company, comforting you in the otherwise dark and lonely night.

With the flat seas and shadows created by the brilliant light from the moon, the water seemed to float above the rails of the boat.  At first glance my heart would momentarily skip a beat because I was absolutely sure that we were about to be flooded!  Even worse, once my eyes had adjusted, my imagination kept going back to the movie “Dead Calm” … I envisioned psychotic murders boarding our boat at any moment.

We spent our time in Santa Maria playing Skip-Bo and waiting out a storm.  Between the rain, wind, and breaking surf we could not go ashore.  In between hands, Chris studied his weather books.

After three nights in Santa Maria we pulled anchor for Magdalena Bay.  We anchored in one of the outside anchorages of Mag Bay, hoping to avoid any port captains or time consuming check-ins.   Mag Bay is known for whale spotting.  In the winter months (Dec/Jan) pregnant female whales enter the bay to birth.  Male and non-pregnant female whales hang out outside the bay (supposedly known to do tricks and what not).  As we entered the bay, we saw the blow from a whale, but it was too far away to make out anything more.  We explored the local fish camp, which had remnants of an old whaling factory.   We departed the next morning, spotting two more whales, both too far away to really get excited over (although I was ecstatic anyway, calling out “Chris Chris Chris”, only to have Chris frantically come up convinced we were sinking or some other tragic event was occurring … he was not amused!  I guess I’ll have to call out more in a more relaxed fashion next time).

We had a great sail (at last no motoring) from Mag Bay to Cabo San Lucas.  As night approached so did some very threatening clouds.  They seemed to surround us, but never actually hovered over us.  We were sailing in what appeared to be the only clear spot for miles!   And when the lightening started we were more than thankful for the opening!!!  At first we only heard some very distant thunder (so distant that I was sure Chris was only hearing things in his paranoid state).  But, as usual, Chris was right, and soon we were seeing lightening in every direction.  Of course the grounding rod we had purchased to attach to our mast was still in the states (it arrived after our departure).  Chris jerry-rigged an alternative (chain attached to our shroud and thrown overboard).  Ironically, prior to leaving Ventura, Chris was asked what his biggest fear [about the trip] was … without hesitation he responded, “lightening”!  I, not being the captain, and therefore not required to stress over such things, sat back to enjoy the show.  If you can get away from the fact that one strike can destroy your floating home, it is quite the beautiful site!  While Chris prepared the boat as much as possible I kept him informed as to where the clouds were moving, how much lightening I saw and if I thought we were getting closer.  For the time being we were still merrily sailing under a very clear patch of sky, and therefore safe.  We debated about trying to slow down (were we going to ‘catch’ the storm ahead?), but then we feared the lightening aft would bear down on us.  The lightening lasted about two hours, and we never left our clear patch of sky … easily surviving (minus a few extra gray hairs for Chris) our first encounter with lightening.

Cabo Anchorage

Coming around the point into the Cabo entrance was like entering the Big Top.  What a circus!  Everywhere jet ski’s, water taxi’s, and cruise ship transport boats zigged and zagged.  Powerboats towed banana rafts loaded with people or pulled individuals attached to parachutes through the air.  Chris had four words for me, “I told you so”.  All along he had warned me about the ‘nightmare’ Cabo was, but I had insisted on stopping here, having never had the money to make it down with my friends for spring break, I just “had to go”.  We slowly made our way through the bay and just as Chris was handing the helm over in order to go up and to the bow we heard a faint “beeeeep-beeeeep-beeeeeep-beeeeep”.  Instantly we both looked down to the motor alarm lights, the red light was on and the temperature was rising, fast!  Never in my life have I seen Chris move so fast.  It was truly superman in action.  In about ten seconds flat he was up on the bow, had released the anchor, and yelled back for me to quickly back down then kill the motor.  Turns out our fan belt had shredded.  Whenever we run the engine we check the motor (belts, water, oil, etc) at least hourly (in addition to our pre-start and post-kill checks).  The belt must have been stripped within minutes.  We are still trying to figure out what might have been the cause.  Luckily we were able to shut down the engine without any damage.  After changing the belt and letting the engine cool a bit we re-anchored and sat back watching the spectacle of motion around us.

We stayed in Cabo two nights, arriving Saturday and departing early Monday morning.  I would hardly consider Cabo part of Mexico.  Between the prices and number of Gringos, it felt more like Southern California.  By arriving on the weekend we were able to skirt around check-in and in doing so avoided some hefty fees (a few cruisers admitted to paying up to $300 just to anchor, and the marina charged $150 per night!).  We did splurge and eat a couple meals out, which were good, but could not compare with some of our meals in Turtle Bay or San Quintin … especially at four times the cost.  All that said, I’m glad we stopped, and have to admit enjoyed some of the conveniences (like good grocery stores, easy communications, fast internet) Cabo had to offer.

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Passage Journal: San Diego to Turtle Bay

Feliz Navidad ... almost!
Some tough times since San Diego, intermixed with wonderful experiences keeps us on our toes!!

Turtle Bay ,, A nice calm anchorage

Cruising is a tease.  One moment it offers you some of the most unique, cool, and exciting experiences of your life.  You're flying along having a great time wondering how anyone could live any other way.  And then it throws you a curve -- an "ugh" (for I can think of no other way to describe the feeling).  And just at the moment when you are on the edge, on the brink of wondering why in the world you are putting up with this, it offers up yet another cool thing, and you are again flying high.



One week has passed since leaving San Diego, but it feels like a month, perhaps more.  The last seven days have really been  quite the roller coaster ride, such that I'm not sure where to even begin ... I suppose ---- [enter very long pause while I wait for the tremendous swell to stop rocking the boat such that I can set down my drink and continue typing ... ah that's better, for the second anyway] --- as I was saying, I suppose I should just start at the beginning ... it's a long one, so I hope you've had your cup 'o jo already!

We left San Diego around noon on the 23rd.  We fueled up next to a power yacht, Evviva.  This boat was amazing, probably 250 feet (at least) ... helicopter pad on the upper dock and all (and we've got pictures to prove it).  After a few words with the Captain (owner?) and some of the crew, we learned that it holds 30,000 gallons of fuel and burns 180 gallons per hour!  Figure and average of $2.00 a gallon ... well, you do the math!!!  Just to give you something to compare it to, Billabong carries about 80 gallons (TOTAL ... which includes the 20 gallons in jerry jugs up on deck).  In an hour they burn more than twice our total capacity.  Amazing.  In one hour their fuel expensive is greater than a third of our entire monthly budget!

It was dreary and raining as we left - we have really come to appreciate our well protected cockpit - although some of that sideways rain still gets you.  It looked like we might have to motor, but on exiting the channel we felt a light breeze and decided to raise sail.  As I headed us up and Chris raised the main, the wind decided to have some fun with us (it seems that with Billabong it is all wind or no wind).  We had two or three reefs in and used the smaller Staysail rather then the Genoa.  It was cold ... very cold, and of course since we had been tied up at the transient dock, rather than anchored out, my seasickness began to kick in.  I hung out in the cockpit with Chris until about 11:30pm and then decided that I was going down below.  Chris could get me when he was ready to switch.  I was at the bottom of the roller coaster -- wet, cold, tired, and sick.

Dolphins at Night

2:30am, I'm somewhat awake, hearing a very high pitched whining noise ... eeeewww, eeeewww, eeeewww.  I'm thinking it's the engine (we had gone from too much wind to no wind, of course with no in-between), but I can hear Chris and know that when it comes to the engine he's got extremely sensitive hearing, so nothing must be wrong.  Then I hear Chris come down below and into our cabin ... "Do you hear that whining?".  "Yes ...".  "It's dolphins ... tons of them ... and it's phosphorescent -- you've got to come see it ...".  I have to admit I did not jump anxiously out of bed ... I'm thinking, yah yah I've seen dolphins, and it's cold out there ... but something in Chris's voice (excitement maybe) got my legs going, and the rest of me just followed.  As I make it up to the bow, I'm not all that impressed and am secretly thinking "I got out of bed for this?" -- at the time I could maybe see one dolphin ... barely glowing in the phosphorescent.  And then, out of nowhere, there they were.  Twenty to thirty dolphins, lighting up the boat with the green glow of phosphorescence.  At this point, no matter what I type, how many fifty-cent words I use, or how elegant they are, I will not be able to convey just how extraordinary it was.  We sat on the bow for at least twenty minutes just watching. You could see the dolphins coming from about fifty yards away ... they looked like fast moving green torpedoes ... two or three at a time, straight at the boat with amazing speed, and then SWOOSH they'd turn at the last minute now jumping, turning, rolling, dodging through the wake at the bow.  They glowed green and came from every direction.  Some played off in the distance, others so close I'm not sure how they didn't hit the boat.  I said to Chris, "I've just had my first real cruising experience".  I am now at the top of the roller coaster, flying high, wishing I could transmit this image to my family and friends to share, but knowing that no matter how I described it, it would never sound as cool as it was.

Point Colnette

Point Colnette Anchorage

Originally we thought we would head for San Martin or Cabo San Quintin, but we made contact with a couple of cruisers (who we met in Ventura), and they were stopping at Point Colnette.  We were ahead of them (they had left from Ensenada a few hours back), so we thought we'd swing by Point Colnette and check it out.  There were some large swells, but low in frequency and the wind seemed calm enough that we decided to stay.  Sea Pilgrim and Koinonian arrived a few hours later.  We had Bryan and Teri (from Sea Pilgrim) over for Christmas Eve dinner [Sausage and Pepper Stew w/ rice] and retired pretty early.  The next morning we awoke to find that Santa visits boats too!  After coffee and present opening we lifted anchor for San Martin.  On the way we got to talk to our families via satellite phone.  For what seems like the first time, we actually had GOOD wind ... not too strong and not too light, ahhhh this is sailing :)  The sun was out, the breeze blowing, and oh my is that a whale just fifty yards port of us???  My first whale sighting EVER ... outside of Sea World.   He stayed with us for a bit surfacing three or four times.  We never got to see much of him, but on his final appearance he showed us his tail -- so cool! (The pictures I took were with my non-digital 35 mm so it might be awhile before we can post them on the website).

San Martin

The two other vessels had departed around 7:00am ... us two hours behind.  But it didn't  take long for us to catch up (while I'm sure Chris, with his excellent sailing skills, would like to take credit, I think it had more to do with waterline).  There was a lot of haggling on the radio, especially to those in "last place" ... who were accused of doing their laundry (dragging clothes behind the boat ... causing them to slow down).  It really was a great day!  We arrived at San Martin at dusk ... a bit of rain had started up again and there was some fog cover, but it was calm (we had actually been motoring the last two miles).   I whipped up our Christmas dinner (Honey Glazed Turkey, Garlic Mashed Potatoes, Three-Cheese Biscuits, Zucchini with Onions, and Apple Crisp for dessert), and we enjoyed a calm, relaxing dinner under the glow of our Christmas lights.  I was still at the high of the coaster ... but coasters drop fast.

San Martin Northern (exposed) Anchorage

Before I go on, a visual of our anchorage is in order.  San Martin is a small C shaped anchorage, open to the North-Northwest.  Great protection, unless a Northwesterly came in ... a NW would put you in a lee-shore condition (this is where the wind and waves are pushing you towards shore -- typically a bad thing).  When we entered the anchorage we circled near the western edge of the anchorage - discovering very shallow water (10 feet) and tons of kelp (not good for engine propellers).  The entire Eastern side of the shore [anchorage] was rocks.

The Big Blow

I don't think I am exaggerating when I say that the wind picked up in a matter of minutes.  It was still calm when I climbed into bed and began reading -- and it wasn't more than one or two pages later that it had jumped at LEAST 15 knots.  Chris went up to check things out, I stayed thinking it was just a "little wind".  That "little wind" continued to grow.  Chris set me to watching wind speed and keeping him updated while he scoped out our anchor to confirm all was holding and well.  During this task, I heard Sea Pilgrim call Koinonian.  They (Sea Pilgrim) were dragging, and therefore decided to lift anchor and move around the point to the backside of the anchorage (where they would be protected from the NW wind which was now hitting us at above 20 knots).  Koinonian was holding anchor and decided to stay.  Chris asked me what he thought we should do.  Here's where it gets tough -- by now the increasing winds (hitting 30 knots) are creating some rather large and forceful waves/swell.  If we lift anchor we have to be able to pull in 150 plus feet of chain and a tangled snubber, while keeping Billabong from being blown back (onto shore).  In addition it's raining, which means cloud cover, which means pitch black -- translation -- will I run Billabong into the Island, or Kelp?  And if we do successfully pull anchor we have to get around the point, and re-anchor (in the dark).  On the other hand, if we stay, conditions could worsen and we could be forced to leave ... in worse conditions.  I was no help,  I couldn't decide ... I just didn't know.  Chris thinks were going to move ... so I put on every layer of clothing I can find and join him in the cockpit.  It's ugly out here.  The wind is screaming through the anchorage ... you know that monstrous sound really hard wind can make.  Billabong is rocking and rolling hard.  Land looks awfully close.  We made our plans for exit, and perhaps it was something on my face, but Chris asked me if I "felt good" about this.  I couldn't lie, I wasn't going to pretend, No, Hell No, pulling anchor had me worried.  On the other hand I trust Chris - if he thought we should lift anchor, then we should, no questions.  But I didn't think that Chris was fully sure either ... and perhaps you never are in these situations, but he was to and from the bow, back-and-forth, back-and-forth, wanting (remember this is all from my prospective) so badly to make the right decision -- the safest decision.  Finally, feeling like I was no help in this difficult dilemma, I suggested he take a moment, sit, breath, and go with his gut.  We had a minute to spare - use it to clear your mind.  I'm not sure if Chris liked the idea or was just appeasing me, but he did it -- and came out with the decision that we would stay, but we were going on anchor watch.

It wasn't long after this decision, that Chris pulled out the search light.  On radar Koinonian looked awfully close to shore, actually that's an understatement, they looked like one.  And they were.  When flashed, you could see Koinonian slightly lying on her port side.  I couldn't believe it.  We still had our engine running, and decided to keep it that way, if our anchor started to drag we didn't want to have to worry about the engine not starting or the time it took to start it.  Chris went back to anchor watch on the bow, while I stood by at the wheel/engine, ready to go.  I hailed Koinonian.  No answer. Hailed again.  No answer.  Hailed again ... Sea Pilgrim answered and I told them what was up - they would stand by why I continued to try and contact Koinonian.  I couldn't see any movement with the search light.  It's at this point that my overly active imagination got going.  I'm not going to go into everything that I visualized - like the phosphorescent dolphins I could never accurately convey these thoughts - let's just say I need to read a little less Stephen King.  Finally Linda (from Koinonian) answered.  She sounded frantic to me, like someone very close to panic ... I hoped I was just reading into things, and perhaps she was just out of breath.  I got some information ... their anchor dragged and before they had time to do anything they had hit a rock and were now stuck.  Von had tried to use another anchor to pull them off, but wasn't able to row or motor (on their dinghy) the anchor out due to the waves and wind.

They were now getting in the life raft, Von was waiting for her, she had to go. And that was it.  I almost panicked ... everything, absolutely EVERYTHING I've read says not to leave your boat unless it is ABSOLUTELY the last option ... the saying goes you should have to step UP into the life raft.  But she was gone, and honestly I didn't really know -- after all it's just something I read.  I couldn't see them with the search light, and without radio contact had no idea how they were fairing.  I stared at the wind speed, willing it with every ounce of my being to go down, concentrating so hard, as if I could command those stupid digital numbers to go down and make everything alright.  Of course I couldn't.  A bit later Sea Pilgrim came on -- they had heard from Von and Linda (not sure why we weren't picking them up), they were OK.  We were still confused as to if they were in their dinghy (also serving as their life raft) with a hand held radio, or if they had gone back aboard.  It finally came out that they opted to stay with the boat.  They were both okay, the boat had not cracked (they were not taking on water), but they were out of options.  The couldn't put out another anchor to pull them off the rocks, and it was too rough to try and put some type of cushion between the hull and the rocks.  She was holding, but every wave that came in pounded against her -- how much longer could she stay intact?

At one point a huge fishing boat was passing by and appeared to be looking for something (we found out later Sea Pilgrim had seen them and contacted them to see if they could assist).  We shone our search light on Koinonian (thinking that is who they were looking for), and they launched a Ponga to investigate.  The only problem was that they came to us first.  We didn't speak Spanish ... they didn't speak English, and with the wind and waves, the only way the could get close to us was to run into us, which is exactly what they did -- as if we didn't have enough concerns!  Somehow we got them pointed towards Koinonian, they went, shone some lights, and then headed back to Billabong.  WHY?  We tried every hand signal and Spanish sayings for "No" that we knew, but they came, and again, bounced against our boat.  We are just lucky they missed (by inches) our port window and Gomez (the wind-vane).  They said some stuff, made some hand motions that seemed to say Koinonian is being banged (duh), and then returned to the larger fishing boat.  And that was it - they left.  We have no idea if it was just a communication problem, or if they deemed Koinonian impossible to save in these conditions.

And so we waited.  It was around 9:30pm that the had wind picked up.  Around midnight that we discovered Koinonian ashore.  And around 4a.m. that the Coast Guard helicopter appeared.  Up until that point (from probably 11pm - 4am) Chris lay huddled in the chain locker monitoring the anchor (at this point the bow was actually dipping under water with some of the larger swells) ... I can't imagine how cold Chris must've been huddled up there with one dinky little fleece blanket.  I sat at the helm monitoring the wind and radio (making occasional contact with Koinonian or Sea Pilgrim), and doing occasional search light checks of Koinonian.  Chris had rigged the snubber lines in the best manner he could think of to alleviate stress from the swell, he had a second anchor and set of snubbers waiting and ready, we had the engine running - ready bolt, and we waited.  I kept staring at the wind speed gauge convinced that any minute it would go down.  At 4a.m. it did ... not to calm, but to calm enough ... below 20 knots.  We actually turned off the engine.  I laid down in the cockpit, while Chris went back to his "cozy" anchor locker.  What seemed like one minute later (although it was really closer to 20 minutes), Chris comes back saying something -- sounded like "oh ust ard ine ight urry".  I was in such a haze, I was standing before I was even awake, but then realized what he was saying, there was a "Coast Guard helicopter, shine the light, hurry".  We directed the helicopter (via spot light) to Koinonian.  Sea Pilgrim had also seen the helicopter and contacted Koinonian via radio.

We were impressed, by our calculations Koinonian had set off their EPIRB (emergency position information radio beacon) around midnight ... the Coast Guard had arrived within four to five hours (fyi, we do have an EPIRB).  About the same time the Coast Guard showed up, the wind picked up again.  We re-started our engine and resumed our previous positions, while also monitoring the radio to hear discussions between Koinonian and the Coast Guard.  Just prior to the wind re-starting I really though Koinonian had a chance - she was still holding together and the wind was dying.  Light would be here soon, and then we could help her off the rocks.  But that's not the way it went.  The wind (and therefore waves) picked up, which meant more pounding for Koinonian.  It was awful to hear Von on the radio with the Coast Guard -- the sound of the crashing waves in the background, of the boat being ripped apart, ugh.  Koinonian couldn't take the second round of pounding ... I'm not sure what time it was - the sun wasn't visible on the horizon yet, but dawn was near, when Koinonian cracked.  Under the light of the Coast Guard's helicopter they abandoned ship (at this point they were pushed so close to shore they could've probably walked).  The Coast Guard lowered a man down to them (which was quite a site to watch) to ensure they were okay and figure out the next steps.  In the end Linda and Von decided to stay and catch a ride to the next port with Sea Pilgrim (they could've flown back with the Coast Guard).  Talking with Bryan and Teri later, it was that perhaps Von still hoped in his heart that Koinonian could be saved.

It was around 8:00a.m., as the bow dipped under water yet again, and the wind showed no signs of letting up, and the swells only grew, that we decided to ditch our anchor and motor out.  We hadn't dragged, which was calming, but we couldn't just sit in the anchorage waiting and hoping, and we couldn't safely pick up the anchor.  Without too much trouble we made it to the other side.  The conditions were still bad, but with no lee-shore things seemed a hundred times better.  Our problem now was that our primary anchor and chain were gone, and the water where we were now anchoring was deep (60 feet deep).  Plus the swells were huge (we were rolling from port window to port window) and it was still quite windy (even with some of the protection of the island).  We threw out a Bruce anchor (which are supposed to only require 4 to 1 scope) and 5 to 1 scope.  Neither of us felt great about this ... 5 to 1 in these conditions, even on a Bruce wasn't comforting ... especially when we had out all line (no chain), and our line had a splice in the middle of it (which weakens the line).

Moved into the lee of the island to try to rescue Koinonian

I can't imagine having done it in the dark, or how Sea Pilgrim made it without tangling themselves in the kelp.  There were huge kelp beds surrounding the entire outer edge of the island.  Sea Pilgrim later told us that they came within a dinghy's length of the rocks the night before (when their anchor dragged).

Chris and I were exhausted.  We monitored Bryan as he rowed ashore to pick up Von and Linda and begin salvaging some of the boat.  With the conditions, our "weak" anchor, exhaustion, and an irritable outboard engine, we didn't feel like taking our dinghy ashore (rather, didn't feel it was safe).  The three of them made it back to Sea Pilgrim safely -- and we all called it a day.  The rolling wouldn't stop though, making it a long night.  Chris and I both slept on the settee (couch) to give us a better roll angle (head to foot instead of side to side).

It was a bit calmer the next day, so we launched the dinghy and went around to the other side -- where we had ditched anchor.  Our anchor buoy was still there and everything appeared to be in order.  It was still too windy and rough to attempt retrieval.  We joined Bryan and Teri ashore, and met Julio the Fisherman.  According to Julio this was one of the windiest months of the year (oh great!).  Julio was great.  Apparently he lives in Ensenada, but two months out of the year he watches the island, or rather the shacks and boats of the lobster fisherman.  I can't imagine how lonely it must get.  While ashore one of the small fishing boats broke free of it's mooring and ended up on the beach.  The four of us assisted Julio in the rescue and helped him secure the boat, in return -- without being asked -- Julio gave us five lobsters!  (Chris and I gave our share to Sea Pilgrim as they had the extra guests and we figured Von and Linda could use a good meal).  Finally, that night the wind seemed to be calming.  The boat wasn't rocking near as much and a good night's sleep was just around the corner.

And just as I was drifting off into bliss, Chris informs me that we are in the kelp!  While the wind was calm, it had also shifted - swinging us around right into the dead center of a very large kelp bed.  Will it never end???  So we're up again, in the night, messing with our anchor.  First we had to pull Billabong clear of the kelp (with the dinghy), then we set out a second bow anchor, but it didn't set first take, so we had to pull it and then set again.  By now we've been motoring all over the place and who knows where our anchors really are ... but we call it a night anyway.  It stayed calm, and we stayed out of the kelp, but sleep was minimal.  Chris woke early and took the dinghy to check conditions in the anchorage.  Things looked good -- it was time for anchor retrieval!

Surprisingly this went pretty well.  However, Julio's assistance was invaluable.  While we were attempting to pick up the end of the chain, Julio (again w/out being asked or signaled) rolled out to us and just started helping.  He seemed a bit disappointed when he found out that Sea Pilgrim had left, and that we were leaving that day as well.  After successfully retrieving our anchor (hooray) we went ashore for one last look at Koinonian.  Chris helped Julio pull off a few more things, and tried to show him parts of the boat that Julio could get a lot of money for (things Julio might not have guessed).  I just wanted to leave.  Chris talked about perhaps hiking to the top of the mountain or taking some pictures of the sea lions, but, in my mind this island felt bad ... bad chi so-to-speak, we couldn't leave soon enough.  So we headed 10 [nautical] miles South to San Quintin (it is the 28th).  On our way a large dolphin pod stopped briefly to play at our bow.  Chris said it's as if they were saying "see there's good stuff to cruising too!".  Sea Pilgrim was also at San Quintin, and had dropped off Von and Linda, who caught a bus to begin their trip home to Oregon.  We were all still in shock that their boat was gone.  They had only just purchased the boat in Ventura.  Had saved for who knows how long, and had sold or donated so many of their possessions.  Luckily they still had retirement and a home ... plus an amazing attitude.  We have no doubt that in a few months they'll be off on some other crazy adventure, and wish them the very best.

San Quntin Anchorage

Finally we got a good night's sleep (ahh)!  The next morning the sun was out, the water was calm, and cruising once again seemed wonderful.  I baked some fresh bread, and then we (along with Bryan and Teri) headed into town (on the dinghy).  None of us had really bothered to scope out just how far the town was ... I am quite surprised we didn't run out of gas!  When we did finally make it back we took a look and discovered it was at least 16 n.m. (roundtrip)!  The town was beyond small ... not even a market or small grocery store.  It was a fishing town, so there were a lot of "Gringos" around and most everybody spoke at least a little English.  We walked around for a bit, and then stopped for some fish tacos.  I think we may have stirred some trouble between husband and wife, because when we asked the husband if they were open he said, "sure sure".  However his wife (aka the cook) did not seemed pleased.  From what little we could decipher (with our limited Spanish) she thought it was too early in the "morning" -- it was 2:00 in the afternoon!!!  She seemed to cheer up though when our presence seemed to attract more customers (I suppose if you're going to cook, might as well cook for more and make a little money).  When we asked the husband what the fish was, his reply was,  "I'm sorry we ONLY have yellowtail"!  ONLY yellowtail -- we all had HUGE grins ... the tacos were absolutely FABULOUS!

There were a few times on the way back that we weren't quite sure we'd make it ... our outboard seemed to be groaning and our fuel going fast ... but we did.  And enjoyed another peaceful night. The swell had started to pick up and weather forecast was predicting higher winds, so we moved out a bit (re-anchored).  The next day was even worse so we put out a stern hook as well in order to get us pointed into the swell (rather than beam to beam rolling) ... but once we set, the wind shifted (as did the swell), so it was all for naught.  We didn't do much those two days -- weather was too crappy.

As I was typing this, Chris was throwing out cheesy titles, like "life on the roll" and "sometimes you've just got to roll with it".  It seems we have not had much luck with the anchorages on the outside.  We were so tired and the swells so bad that we weren't even able to stay up for the East Coast's New Year (i.e. we were both in bed before 9pm).  We were definitely getting to the end our ropes - the swell was driving us crazy.

But, as I started out saying, this cruising thing is a tease ... or roller coaster ... just has we were getting sick and tired of things (and Chris keeps joking that I may not return after my upcoming trip home in the end of Jan), it throws you a bone.  Today (the 1st of Jan), we are sailing on broad reach, in the sunshine, at a leisurely 5 knots.  We are both smiling, enjoying the sail and sun from the comfort of our bean bags -- and oh I think Chris may have just caught a fish!  Take that back, he lost him, ah well we'll keep trying.

We haven't decided yet where we'll stop (either Cedros, Turtle Bay, or Santa Maria) -- we'll let the swell and wind determine that ... all I hope is that we can stay on the upside of the coaster for awhile!!!

Turtle Bay and our first calm anchorage

1/4/2003 - Quick Update.  We passed on the San Benitos Islands (near Cedros) -- too much kelp and wind.  Instead we sailed another night to Turtle Bay (Bahia San Bartolome).  Things here are great so far -- we both slept like rocks last night.  Wind has picked up today, but the anchorage is rather protected, keeping things somewhat smooth.  It's a small town, where the largest and nicest property is the church.  They have fresh fish, which Chris and I tried to buy (yellowtail), however we would've had to purchase the ENTIRE fish -- which is just too much for the two of us.  We plan on hanging here for a few days and then on to Bahia Santa Maria (just outside of Bahia Magdalena).

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San Diego - And they're off!

San Diego



The big news -- we've left!  We're actually doing it!  But more on that later, a little catching up first ...

So much has happened since September (last journal entry) that I'm not even sure where to begin.  Somewhere between Sept. and Oct. Chris and I both stopped working.  No, that's not true, it was then that the real work began!  We were both so busy and things were so crazy that there would be days we wouldn't say more than two words to each other!!!  But it's a different kind of work, and [I think] a better goal.  I won't bother with the details of the final preparations ... mostly because I can't possible recall all the work that Chris did, nor accurately describe all the errands and provisioning that I did.



We did get another "practice" sail in (to Smuggler's Cove and Prisoner's).  It was a great trip because we were able to test a variety of sail combinations - including our goofy spinnaker ...

Not having any clue when we would truly leave, we randomly picked a day for a Bon Voyage Party. What a great time!  It began with an "open boat", followed by an outdoor gathering at our friend's house (Thanks again John, Salli, Annabelle, Jack, and Simon).  As the crowd thinned, we broke open some champagne and a round of toasting commenced.  We are so lucky to have such great friends & family.  We were too busy gabbing to take too many digital photos, but here are a few:

In mid-November we pulled the the boat out [of the water] for three days of The Karate Kid reenactment;  sand off - paint on, wash off - polish on ... I've never done so much manual labor in my life!  We also had our first medical "emergency" when I hit my head on the prop zinc, which resulted in my look a-like contest to Carry (from Stephen King's book, Carry) -- for those who haven't read it, just think lots of blood.  Luckily it wasn't a real emergency and within the hour I was back to sanding.

Probably our biggest nightmare in preparations involved our engine.  It took a over five months, two diesel mechanics, and a certified letter to finally get our oil leak fixed.  Of course the fun didn't end there, we were confronted with a number of engine hassles over the final months. Knock on wood, persistence seems to have paid off ... on our journey to San Diego we clocked 26 engine hours with no major problems!

Which gets us to our departure.  The first time we actually picked a day to leave was one week before Saturday Dec 6th (where the 6th was our planned departure date).  And, as expected, we didn't make the date ... reconfirming why we had never bothered to pick a day to begin with.  Foul weather was partly to blame ... rain delayed a few epoxy-involved boat projects, but in general our delay can be summarized by the saying, "it's the last 10% that takes 90% of your time".  We re-adjusted our schedule, targeting a mid-week departure.  That was a no-go as well.  We couldn't leave on a Friday (some sailor superstition), and so we decided Sat or Sun (13th-14th).  As we were frantically rushing around we decided that this wasn't how we wanted to be ... what was a day or two?  And so we re-set our expectations and hoped for a Monday departure.  It was truly blowing like stink on Monday, and we weren't sure about backing out of our slip (we did not want to start our voyage being blown into another boat).  The wind died around 4pm - at which time we could've left.  But we were tired, and an overnight sail when I was already ready for bed didn't sound fun.  We were ready though ... for the first time everything was stowed, all major projects were finished, our cars were sold, our storage spaces had been condensed to a single 10 X 5 unit, she was filled to the brim with water, the spare diesel was strapped on deck, and there wasn't an inch of water line to spare.  We decided 8:30 am Tuesday morning would be our departure time.

8:30 a.m. came ... as did my Dad and Archie, our friend John Zilles, and our friends from a few slips down.  The wind was still outrageous.  Chris decided to shower with the thought "if I come out and the wind has died we'll just leave, if the wind has picked up we'll wait" ... the wind picked up.  Everyone said their good-byes (after all they couldn't stand around waiting), and Chris and I borrowed our friend's car and went to a movie.  As we left the movie we both turned to each other with the same thought ... the wind had died.  "Let's see how it is at the harbor" ... same -- it was calm.  As I told Chris, "Maybe we should just leave!?!?", my stomach jumped and my nerves switched into high gear.  Within the next 30 minutes, the engine was going, our dock keys were turned in, and we were backing out of the slip.  As we untied the dock lines my emotions got the best of me ... and just as I was trying to get it in control Salli called to say, "I think I'm actually sad" (yes that's a direct quote) -- well, I knew I was sad, so I practical hung up on her because I couldn't take it.  Chris asked if I needed a minute, but no, if I had a minute I'd need an hour, and if I had an hour I'd want a day -- you get the idea.

We pulled out gracefully (in other words without hitting anything) and did one last tour of the Ventura Harbor (we were stalling as our friend was coming to take photos of our departure).  It was great to see the Zilles family waving to us from the breakwater ... but sad too.  I remember thinking "What the hell am I doing?" -- a huge part of me wanted to turn back ... surely I wasn't ready for this, how could I leave all my friends and family???  At that moment I couldn't visualize the future -- I couldn't see the remote islands, the new cultures and friends, the adventure of a lifetime -- I could only see what I was leaving -- Vegas with the Girls, Monday night football at the Zilles', nieces & nephews, instant access to family, sushi with friends, and the list went on and on.  It was tough.  I'm not sure if I've ever experienced such a wide range of mixed emotions in that short of a period.

It was a beautiful departure.  The sun was near setting and just outside the breakwater a dolphin performed a few jumps just port of our bow.  Thanks again John for the pictures!  [Larger pictures coming soon]


We left Ventura around 4pm (Dec 16th).  At 8pm we dropped anchor in Smuggler's Cove (Santa Cruz).  We decided to stop as I wasn't feeling quite well (always seasick the first day out).  But the anchorage was terrible ... rolly-polly.  So at midnight, we pulled anchor and headed for Cat Harbor, Catalina.  The wind had picked up, and swells were hitting us directly at our beam.  We had in 3 reefs in our Mainsail and our hosted our smaller Staysail instead of the Genoa.  Wind was blowing 20/25 knots with gusts to 35.  For the first time I was truly seasick (i.e. nausea turned to regurgitation).  I went down below to try and sleep it off while Chris took watch.  Luckily by morning the seas & wind had calmed a bit.  We arrived in Cat Harbor around 2pm on Wednesday (17th) .  After lunch and a nap we decided to continue to San Diego.  With no wind we motored the entire way.  We arrived in San Diego around 8a.m. Thurs morning.  A huge navy ship was departing the channel, and as we came in a submarine emerged behind us!

     
Look close to see the sub behind Chris!


We decided to dock at the transient dock rather then anchoring out ... which makes visiting our San Diego friends easier.  We've been relaxing, visiting with friends, walking, and doing a bit of work (on the boat).  [Dr.] Flipper drove down from L.A. and spent a few hours showing us how to suture.  We practiced on Bob the Chicken:


We've seen some amazing sunsets, moonrises, and sunrises.  We've passed dolphins, sea lions, and tons of seagulls.  And we've crossed paths with some gigantic & interesting boats.  See more pictures here!

We'll probably head out for Islas San Benito (Mexico) on Monday or Tuesday.  Hoping to arrive by Christmas.  It's a small fishing island and we have some used dive suits which we hope to trade for lobsters and abalone!

It still hasn't sunk in for either of us -- and we're not sure when it will, in the meantime we're just enjoying time off from "working on the boat"!!!

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And We're Off

We left Ventura around 4pm (Dec 16th). At 8pm we dropped anchor in Smuggler's Cove (Santa Cruz). We decided to stop as I wasn't feeling quite well (always seasick the first day out). But the anchorage was terrible ... rolly-polly. So at midnight, we pulled anchor and headed for Cat Harbor, Catalina.

Continue reading on our Website (this is pre-blogging).





First Year Photos w/Location

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What's in a name?

As promised in the 9/18 journal, a sidebar on how Chris & KT came to be Captain & Chef.  Plus a quick summary of the latest happenings with our preparations.

The following journal entry is a bit random and pointless, however it has been a few weeks since the last entry, and other then "we are still working on the boat" there is not much new to report.  If you continue reading, you are responsible for your own boredom and I will not be held responsible!

In my last journal, I referred to Chris as captain and myself as chef, and mentioned that there would be a sidebar on this later ... and so here it is, how we came to be Captain Myles & Chef Roddick!

I think that perhaps Captain is a bit obvious.  After all, Chris owns the boat, has the majority of the sailing experience, is responsible for the vessel & crew (or chef as it may be), and ... well, is just pretty much in charge!  But, for the less nautically inclined (like myself!) you might be wondering, why not Helmsman or Skipper?  Actually, even I knew that helmsman wouldn't work ... anyone can be a helmsman, as it is just the current individual at the wheel or Tiller.  In other words Chris and I will swap helmsman's duties throughout our journey.  Plus, it just doesn't sound right.

But why not skipper?  I was kind of liking the idea of Skipper, especially when it occurred to me I could call him Skippy for short (I'm sure he would've loved that)!  However, I have recently learned (something even the Captain himself didn't know) that Captain and Skipper are not the same thing!  A Skipper is responsible for the care and safety of the vessel, ship, yacht, boat, whatever you want to call it!  This is true of the Captain as well, but in addition, the Captain is also responsible for the care and safety of the crew (or chef) ... and since my dad has threatened that Chris had better not return w/out me, it just seems obvious that he must be the Captain.

There were a few options open for me; Co-Captain, Crew, and First-Mate.

Honestly I like Co-Captain, the problem is that I don't feel that I'm quite there yet.  See, "Co" to me implies that you are equals ... and my sailing skills just aren't quite up-to-snuff with Chris (not yet anyway).  Who knows, maybe someday I'll take it on, but it just doesn't quite fit right now (not to mention it seems to imply quite a bit of work).  Bare with me while I go off on a quick tangent -- when I told my family (Chris included) about this Co-Captain business, I was informed that you could not have a Captain and Co-Captain, both people would have to be "Co" in order to fulfill the "Co" requirements.  This doesn't work though, because as you can imagine, it is quite important that a single individual be in charge and have "final say", especially during critical decision making moments.  Therefore it is necessary that Chris remains Captain (we can't have us fighting in the middle of a hurricane about what to do and whose in charge, now can we?).  But I am insistent that a Captain / Co-Captain combo is completely legitimate (after all you can have a Pilot / Co-Pilot), and since I'm quit stubborn I have chosen to ignore the heckling from my family on this point ... should I someday decide I am up to being Co-Captain, Billabong will have a Captain / Co-Captain team!  Plus, these rules & codes are meant to be more of a guideline really (go see Pirates of the Caribbean).

Many people opt for Crew ... technically I suppose that it is appropriate (and in our home page I'm even referred to as Crew), but every time I hear crew, I get this visual of a couple of straggly looking dudes standing on the dock; unshowered, unshaven, and with their thumbs out [i.e. hitching a ride to the next port].  I imagine some of the older pirate movies, where the crew was vulgar, drunk, and cleaning the deck all the time.  True, this type of crew probably only exists in the movies, but none-the-less it's the image that runs through my mind!  And while I like a good drink like any good pirate, I just can't get used to washing the decks all the time.

I also believe that a lot of partners go for First-Mate ... as a matter of fact, way back in November Chris even purchased a t-shirt for me that said "First-Mate".  I was quite fine with this until I read a book, written by a women who defined the First-Mate as the furry critter you brought on board for company (i.e. a pet dog or cat).  Ok, yes, she is probably some feminist or something, but after reading that, well my ol' imagination got going again, and as with crew, I just couldn't go there!

I suppose the other thing is that if I wasn't going to be Captain, then I wanted something all-together different or unrelated (I'm a bit competitive by nature).  A huge chunk of my prep work for this journey has been, in one form or another, involved with the galley and provisioning.  In addition, since we moved onto Billabong I've done the majority of meal preparation for Chris & I (which in no way reflects talent, because Chris is a wonderful cook).  I suppose the final hook for me was reading Care and Feeding of an Offshore Crew.  In the book, the author points out the importance of proper provisions, good (tasty) meals, and nutrition, and how it can effects the ability and mood of the Captain and Crew, especially on longer passages. That, along with Art (Chris's dad) informing me of all the problems we could have from malnutrition, convinced me that Chef was a title worth having, and hence Chef Roddick!  [As you may have noticed Chef in no way implies that I actually have to be a GOOD cook!]

And while we're going on about names, I might as well introduce you to some of Billabong's "Crew".  Gomez (our Wind-Vane), Pedro Jr. (our Auto-Pilot), and Ricardo, Ricky for short, (our Sourdough Starter).  You might think us odd for giving names to inanimate objects, however if you think about how important the Wind-Vane and the Auto-Pilot are, and how much freedom they provide to the Captain & Chef during passages, you realize that they truly should have names.  OH, and what about the starter you ask?  After feeding something, twice-a-day for two weeks, plus knowing that when it comes time to use it, you must once again feed it regularly for a few days prior, you too would name it!

Well, if you've read this far, you deserve at least a bit of an update of what's happening around the boat.

Chris's last day of work was Monday Sept 15th, so he is now officially working on the boat full time (my last day is Oct 9th).  He is doing so much, that's it is hard for me to keep up ... he's installed the water maker, attached the wind-vane (we were missing one bolt, which was just received yesterday, so Gomez should be ready to go in no time), hooked up the fresh & sea water foot pump to the galley sink, and investigated the procedures to getting our French Visas (I'm sure there is more, but this is all that comes to mind at this time ... Chris keeps promising to write an entry, so someday you'll get the real scoop).

We finished all our vaccination shots [Hepatitis A & B, MMR (measles, mumps, & rubella), Polio, Tetanus, Yellow Fever, & Typhoid].  About two weeks prior to entering certain parts of Mexico we'll begin taking Malaria medication.

We've been doing massive amounts of accounting and legal paperwork; wills, power of attorney's, health care directives, crew lists, and so on.

We've also tried our first canned meal.  Ok, so I wasn't very daring on the first try, I made salmon patties (from canned salmon).  They were great!  Next meal will consist of canned pork loin and canned hamburger!  YUM!

Our new sail cover came in (cadet gray), it looks great!  Our cockpit cover was delayed a month (so hopefully it will come in around the beginning of Oct).  We finally ordered a huge roll of sunbrella, so we will be sewing up a storm soon (grill covers, awning, compass cover, ditty bags, etc).  We are also deciding on the material for our wind curtains, we've been delayed by our debate over 80% or 90% coverage (oh such tough decisions!).

In my quest to make Co-captain, I've been taking some sailing classes to touch up my skills and hopefully learn a few new things.  I've already completed the first (beginning) course, and take the intermediate and advanced courses at the end of October.

I'm sure I've missed a dozen things, but that at least gives you a glimpse ... approximately 50 days left!

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