Paper Nautilus (Betsy)

Argonauta Nouryi

A strong wind blew through much of the night. Normally I wouldn't care, but Mystic was at anchor for the final night of our seven month, 4,700 mile cruise and I didn't want any trouble. Besides, it was Friday the 13th.

Despite sleeping fitfully, I was wide awake before the sun poked over Baja's dusty hills. Pulling on yesterday's clothes, I jumped into the dinghy and in my haste to get to the beach I didn't even bother to pump up the tubes that had gone a little soft overnight. This was my last chance to do some beach combing before we went into Marina Palmira in La Paz and put Mystic to bed for the summer.

A quick survey of the beach turned up tracks in the sand along the high tide mark that despite the early hour showed someone had been there before me. First to arrive was a tejon, but not to worry, he was hunting for his breakfast, not shells. Tejons look like raccoons but have pointy snouts and long, cat-like tails. Cute, but vicious little creatures. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coati)

Not finding anything exciting (the tejon probably had the same luck), I picked up a few olive shells, nothing special, but at least they filled my pocket.

Working back towards the dinghy, my eyes continued to sweep the beach for one last, though unlikely, treasure. And there, partially buried in the sand, was a conchologist's prize--a paper nautilus! And I'm not even a conchologist, or at least I wasn't. The whoop that escaped as I bent to retrieve the delicate three-inch shell surprised even me. It was followed by a quick thank you to the very wind I'd been cursing just a few hours earlier.

The paper nautilus is actually an egg case created by an octopus and not a true shell at all. Because they are so fragile most are crushed by the sea long before they reach land. This Argonauta Nouryi was rare find indeed. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Noury%27s_Argonaut)

I hope the tejon found what he was after before leaving the beach. I certainly did.

It's all about friends (David)

Cruising in Mexico is all about the people you meet. Sure, the beaches are beautiful, the anchorages benign and the climate is great, but the big contrast compared to the Pacific Northwest is the degree to which one socializes. In the Pacific Northwest, most people are on a one or two week vacation. Even the long term cruisers are all going in different directions. In Mexico it is different: pretty much everyone is moving either up or down the coast and you see the same boats in anchorage after anchorage. Close friendships develop and that is one of the joys of cruising in this part of the world.

Sarah & Darrell (and Sparky of course)

For example, on our very first day in La Paz, we met Sarah, Darrell and Sparky on El Tiburon, (El Tiburon) and enjoyed their company at just about every anchorage throughout the season. Farther down the coast we met the folks on Tapatai, Sarah Jean II, Musik, Rutea, Anna and Miss Teak, to name just a few of our cruising buddies. To further illustrate the point, I'm still in contact with families I met in the South Pacific in 1974 and two prior cruising seasons in Mexico (1990/91 and 1999/00).  Don't get me wrong: we loved our ten years in the Pacific Northwest. With 1000 miles of islands and anchorages between Seattle and Glacier Bay, it's a great place to go boating -- it's just a different cruising experience.

Mexican Train Dominoes

This year, the game of choice is Mexican Train Dominoes. Then there's bocce ball on the beach, dinghy pot-luck raft-ups, tacos & cervezas at beach palapas, excursions to the local markets, shell collecting (quite a competitive sport, as I have learned), dinners in town and of course the camaraderie of shared passages and 'boat talk.'

Happy Hour, La Cruz Yacht Club

In March and April, we said bon voyage to Sarah Jean II, Rutea and others as they departed for the Marquesas. Earlier we wished Silas Crosby safe travels as they left for the Galapagos, Easter Island and Chile. More recently, our group split between those returning home via the 'Baja Bash' and others, like us, who are leaving their boats in Mexico for the summer.


Unlike earlier years, these are not really goodbyes because we can stay in touch via e-mail. For example, everyday we read of Sarah Jean II's progress across the Pacific and their adventures in the Marquesas, Tuamotus and beyond via their beautifully-written blog postings (Sarah Jean II). We also always enjoy Meredith Lewis' writings aboard Silas Crosby.

Dinghy Pot Luck Raft-Up

Drinks aboard Mystic

Loreto Fest

Mission San Javier (David)

Just getting there was an adventure

Just after Loreto Fest, a bunch of cruisers anchored in Puerto Escondido climbed aboard a four-wheel-drive troop carrier for the drive to Mission San Javier. Located in rugged mountainous terrain about 25 miles west of Loreto, Mission San Javier was founded in 1699, the second oldest (after Loreto) of the west coast missions. Just getting there was a three hour adventure as the mission appears to be in the middle of nowhere.

Today the narrow arroyo is inhabited by just a few locals who maintain the mission and run a tourist restaurant, but back at the beginning of the eighteenth century this was home to a community of about 20,000 Indians before smallpox and other diseases took their toll.

Mission San Javier

It's been reported that when the first service was held, Father Miguel del Barco was horrified to see the locals turn up in their native dress, that is, no clothes at all for the men, and a small covering for the women. Furthermore, the mission interior proved to be quite chilly in winter. When the good Father preached about the choice between eternal damnation in the fires of Hell versus the more nebulous benefits of Heaven, most expressed a preference for Hell because at least it was going to be warm!

Anchor watch (David)

We are in Puerto Escondido, the most protected anchorage in Mexico. It's 2:00 am. It's blowing 30 knots, gusting 37. We are on anchor watch. WTF?

Yesterday morning, the second day of Loreto Fest,  we listened as always to Don Anderson's weather forecast on the Sonrisa net. "It's going to be really honking all the way down the Sea of Cortez, starting tomorrow afternoon," he says. When Don says "honking" we pay attention: he has an uncanny ability to get it right.

When we arrived in Puerto Escondido a few days ago, I envied the people who had reserved one of the many buoys. They looked secure and well spaced, whereas we had to squeeze amongst the 100 or more anchored boats. As the wind built up during the day I let out more chain. A little later, I hailed the ketch right behind us. He had out 150 ft, same as us. "How about letting out another 30 ft?"  I asked. He readily agreed: now we both had out 180 ft. Not as much scope as I would have liked in 40 ft of water given the forecast, but the swinging room was limited in the crowded anchorage.

I set an anchor alarm that sounds next to our bed, but cannot sleep. Betsy is also wide awake. We take turns sitting in the pilot house keeping an eye on everything. The anchor is holding: our track on the Nobeltec screen paints a wide arc as we swing back and forth, but there is no sign of dragging. I can see the two smaller arcs from before we let out more chain. Everything looks OK. I still cannot relax. I don't remember when I last checked the seizing on the anchor shackle. I ask Betsy: she says she looked at it last time we raised anchor and it was fine. I plot a course to get us out of the anchorage just in case. It would be difficult to maneuver through 150 boats in the dark with 30 knots blowing, and then exit the narrow, shallow channel, but, hell, a crappy plan is better than no plan at all.

The pre-dawn light shows whitecaps throughout the anchorage. The VHF chatter starts. Several boats on mooring buoys have chafed through their pennants and back-up lines: they are circling the anchorage looking for a place to put down the hook. I'm not envious of the buoys anymore, in fact I love our 7/16" chain and 110lb Bruce!

Just as Don forecast, it blows all the next day and most of the following night.

Tuesday morning it is calm and beautiful. No boats damaged, no one hurt. The Loreto Fest organizers offer free margaritas and food: everyone shows up. Another day in paradise.