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trip logs

Action Packed Days in Sleepy Turtle Bay

I don’t know what it is about this dusty little Baja outback town but what should be the sleepiest little village on the coast is once again full of adventure for us. We first visited Bahia Tortugas nine years ago having sailed down from San Diego with a small entourage of other boats with 20-something crews. In the week we spent here, we somehow managed to pack our days full, which included kite surfing and BBQs on the beach, spending hours at the beach palapa slurping down 10 peso Pacificos with other cruising crews and even finding a hopping discoteca up on the hill one Saturday night.

Of course, our time here this visit has been spent a little differently, but so far Turtle Bay has not disappointed us in excitement, despite appearances. Our first day here was actually pretty quiet as one would expect here; we spent a few hours just wandering around the town taking it all in. Nestled in barren desert hills, the entire village is covered with at least a centimeter of caramel colored dust which billows up each time a car zooms down a narrow dirt road. We found ice-cream at a small well-stocked tienda, fresh flour tortillas (a Baja specialty), and (can you guess?) a playground which was surprisingly new in the town square overlooking the bay and fisherman hauling their pangas out of the water.

Unlike wandering around other small towns in the U.S., however, where residents typically eye strangers with suspicion, when we would pass a local Turtle Bay resident we’d get a huge smile and a wave and a ¡buenas tardes! whether the person was walking or driving. We met a local woman who spoke very good English and enjoys helping passing cruisers; when she found out we were looking for tortillas she told us to hop in her car and she’d drive us the two blocks to the tortilleria. We thanked her profusely but explained that since we hadn’t been off the boat in three days we didn’t mind the walk.

Yesterday, on our second morning in town, we tune into the morning VHF net and hear an announcement that bocce ball will commence on the beach by the beer palapa at 1 pm. Now, back when we were kids ourselves cruising down here we always snickered a little at the old farts playing bocce ball on the beach. This time, we packed up a picnic lunch, the sand toys, swimsuited girls and a pocket of pesos for beers and arrived ready for bocce at 1:05 pm.

The delightful afternoon was spent doing what we’d come to Mexico for: spending time with members of our fellow cruising community as well as the locals who love to come and practice their English while we practice our Spanish. As a warm wind ruffled in from the bay, we enjoyed ice-cold Pacificos from Regelio’s La Playa palapa bar, shared appetizers and stories and plans with our new friends, watched as Leah and Holly made new friends of their own of all ages and nationalities, danced to music blaring from nearby speakers, and played several rounds of bocce ball.

We returned to Wondertime yesterday evening smiling from ear to ear after our fun-filled afternoon. We noticed that the anchorage had filled up considerably; apparently the FUBAR powerboat rally from San Diego to Cabo had caught up with us and about 50 powerboats had joined the (thankfully very large) anchorage. The VHF radio was buzzing with talk about the impending front coming through with southerly winds (again!). We’d been expecting the front to arrive this weekend and knew that there may be some light southerly winds that night but the really honking stuff was due to come today (Saturday).

As we fed the girls some dinner, read books and tucked them into bed, indeed the wind had come up from the south already; we soon had some lively bucking action going on due to the 2-mile fetch across the south side of the bay. An hour later, the wind abruptly died dead still. Then a few minutes later it came up again, clocking around 90 degrees to the west. This time the wind was coming off the hill to the west of town and the wave action was much calmer and we slept at last.

With the wind expected to pipe up again from the SW today, we ate breakfast this morning while underway to the south side of Bahia Tortugas where we’d be in the lee of the shore, a much more comfortable and safe place to be in a blow. Most of the boats anchored near town slowly trickled south as well and the fleet of 50 or so are all tucked in, hanging on as 20-30 knot winds buffeted our ships around.

A long windy day stuck in the boat turns into a wind measuring experiment for Leah with our hand-held wind meter

We’ve spent the day listening in on our VHF radio (think cruising boat party line if you’ve never listened in on one before). There was chatter about the boats being tossed about that were still anchored on the north side of the bay, [power]boats that had headed out to sea towards Cabo, originally attempting to outrun the front and limping back defeated, people requesting rides from the local pangas to a party being held in town for the FUBAR (and then the excitement of getting home in the dark across the rough bay).

So far, everyone is safe, anchor watches are being held and anchors are holding on tight. Just another action-packed day in sleepy little Turtle Bay.

*2300 update: the wind has dropped to nearly nothing and it’s raining(!) buckets. What will tomorrow bring??

Somewhere off Baja, nightwatch with a full moon and wind

We are sailing to Bahia Tortuga, nearly 300 miles south of Ensenada and halfway down the Baja peninsula. It’s our second night at sea and we’ve been pleased to have much more sailing than not this trip so far. We currently have about 18 steady knots from astern and while we roll crazily at times from side to side as we slide down the waves with only our reefed genoa we are so glad to be scooting along with wind power. It’s a dreamy ride tonight.

Everyone else is asleep on the boat and I get three hours of peace and quiet to look after the sails, watch for other ships, eat chocolate, listen to whatever albums I want to on the ipod. It’s awesome. The sky is finally clear; at last we’ve left the fog behind us. There is a sky full of stars, I am sure, but due to the nearly-full moon being so bright that it makes my eyes tear up when I try to look at it only the brightest planets and satellites shine through.

I scan the horizon for other sailboats but see nothing. Last night there were seven boats around us but over the past day we’ve all spread out as our various speeds and courses will do. We spent longer than expected in Ensenada as we were waiting for two fronts to roll through with their rain and wind and thunderstorms. The marinas filled up with so many boats waiting for the good weather to sail south this week that a breakfast meeting was called to set up an SSB net for those interested, and we dubbed ourselves the Hee-Hee (as opposed to the much larger Baja Ha-Ha rally). Truly, we didn’t mind the wait. There were plenty of amazing fish tacos to eat, streets to explore, pan dulces to try and many friendly people to practice our Spanish with.

Today we finally, finally broke our trend of catching only seaweed on our fishing lures. We have caught: a 2′ long squid (which we threw back because it was hissing at us and was terrifying, even through we were drooling at the thought of fresh caught calamari), three small yellowfin tuna (the smallest one we threw back, the largest is currently marinating in lime juice in the fridge for tomorrow’s ceviche lunch), and a seagull, sadly (who we were able to free quickly thank goodness).

The day before we left the city of Ensenada (where it was pouring rain and in the 50sF and we actually had to dig our electric heater out of the bilge), Leah asked me: “Mama, when are we going to get to the real Mexico? You know, with a huge sunny beach and palms trees I can tie my hammock between and wild horses to ride on?” Apparently our promise of what lies ahead has not been forgotten. I told her that Turtle Bay has a huge beach that will likely be sunny but it was mostly lacking in palm trees from what I could remember. And probably not a lot of wild horses there either. Still, she was satisfied with that.

Tomorrow (Wednesday) we’ll arrive, too late to visit the beach probably, but we’re all looking forward to playing in the Mexican sand the next day. In the meantime, I’m going to relish the last hour of this nightwatch. I should probably go do something productive but Tetris is calling my name. And there’s no one to hear it but me.

Delightfully Messy Mexico!

We arrived in Ensenada yesterday (Wednesday) afternoon; we have officially sailed to Mexico! It took us two tries to leave the San Diego Police Dock however. The first time we departed was at 0200, which would give us plenty of time to make the 65 miles to Ensenada, our first port in Mexico by afternoon. We had motored out the channel past Point Loma in the dark and about two miles out I noticed the cat was not in her, I mean Holly’s carseat where she usually rides when the engine is on. We searched all over the boat but quickly knew it was fruitless: she was not on the boat.

A gritty sunrise over Mexico

We did consider not turning around, but for want of a suitable explanation to the girls as to where their cat had gone we turned Wondertime around and  motored back to the Police Dock, cursing once more at our difficult feline crew. We were still a hundred feet away from the dock when we heard the MREOWWWW! of our panicked cat and spotted her standing on the end of the last finger pier waiting for us. We nudged the bow toward the dock, Xena jumped aboard and we were finally off to Mexico.

The next 65 miles held a little of everything for us. Motoring in a glassy sea under a starry sky. Then as the sun rose a startling hot wind began to blow from shore and we had a romping sail for an hour or so in about 20 knots. Dust was blown out to sea, little bits from Mexico and it gave the morning sky a caramel hue like in a Coen Brothers movie. We could feel the grit in our eyes and in our teeth and it stuck to the salt spray on deck. It even brought with it the smell of Mexico: earthy, smoky and human.

Our fun was soon over though and we found ourselves motoring in calm seas once again. Then the southerlies started. Being no purists, or rather not wanting to arrive in Ensenada in the dark (a good thing since the Mexican charts are horrific; our path on our electronic chart travels right over the charted breakwater…) we motored on through light winds on our nose the rest of the day.

Patiently waiting while Mom and Dad ping-pong around the Centro Integral de Servicios completing check-in papers

We arrived in Ensenada at 1530 and docked at Baja Naval, with employees catching two of our lines and a fellow cruiser catching the third. A lovely warm welcome! After securing the boat the four of us meandered up to the marina office through the spotless Baja Naval boatyard to check in. The super friendly manager completed our paperwork quickly. He mentioned that the CIS offices were closed early that day due to it being Dia de los Muertos so we wouldn’t be able to check-in with immigration, customs and the port captain until the next day. “Go have fun in town!” he said with a grin. “No one is going to come chasing you down!”

So we did. We wandered around until we found a restaurant that was a few blocks out of the tourist areas. Oh, how delightful it is to be back in Mexico! It’s such a messy, comfortable place, like going to someone’s home with toys and books everywhere and a fluffy couch with holes and a few stains and you are encouraged to put your feet up. You have to watch your step everywhere you walk because pieces of the sidewalk are bound to be missing. There are unfinished – or under demolition? – buildings scattered amongst hopping, thriving small businesses. Everything is painted in bright colors with bars on the windows. Chickens and dogs dart down alleyways. My favorite part is the people. Friends, couples, families: groups of people everywhere just walking around, sitting, talking, eating standing up around a crowded taco stand. Kissing. Loitering is expected here.

Back to our restaurant. We found a place with the menu in pesos, wooden tables, Mexican music blaring from overhead speakers and señoras busy making fresh tortillas in the open kitchen in the back. We sat down, ordered, and minutes later our waiter returns with delicious carne asada and piping hot corn tortillas. Paired with 27 peso (that’s less than $2USD!) bottles of Negra Modelo it was a celebratory feast we’d come a long way for. And for only $22USD for a family of four, a bargain.

A little dangerous maybe, but still fun

Today we walked over to the Centro Integral de Servicios to check in with Migración, Capitánia de Puerto, and Aduana (customs). While all these offices, including the bank and copy centers, are all located in one building now (hurrah!) the process wasn’t exactly as smooth as promised. Maybe it was because the office was closed early the day before or the workers were a tad hung over from Dia de los Muertos but the lines were long and things got a little confusing at times as we shuffled back and forth from the immigration counter to the bank, back to immigration, to the port captain, etc. The woman helping us with our port captain papers up and went to lunch right in the middle of our turn at the counter. But the customs fellow loved the girls and let them each push the button for the red/green streetlight that indicates if your boat is going to be visited (red) or not (green). It was green both times. After nearly three hours of ping-ponging around the building, he took the customs forms from Michael, and not even looking at them, smiled with a hint of a wink and said “Muy bien!” We were done, officially checked into Mexico.

We gathered up all of our stamped papers and went back outside, blinking in the bright Mexico sun. Smiling, we walked back down the malecon, towards the waterfront playground to let the girls play after being cooped up all morning waiting patiently for all our paperwork to be completed. Some things stay the same.

The Hum of Southern California

We’ve been in Southern California for a week and a half now. We wanted to love it down here, what with all the sunshine and palm trees and beaches. Trips down here in years past hold memories of wild times. Perhaps we are different people now, as we find ourselves only wishing to experience the wild again.

It’s a bustling coastline, bursting with people, cars, stores, buildings, houses, highways and every now and then a green park. Every time we find ourselves in port, as we are now in San Diego, we can’t help but write out a list of Things That Must Be Done/Bought/Fixed Before Leaving wherever we happen to be. Then we walk around as fast as we can and check them off, dragging our young charges with us, dangling the promise of an ice-cream cone in front of them.

It’s enough to make one dream of islands, of deserted beaches, of quiet protected harbors, of silence. We remember all our weeks up in the splendor of British Columbia and our heart hurts for the memory of beauty and stillness that seems impossible now. Maybe that is homesickness.

But there are islands ahead, and beaches and beauty and wildness. One more week of checking the items off our list, a night of trick-or-treating, then we’ll sail to Mexico. There is a hum of excitement aboard, that sometimes drowns out the exhaustion. We are surrounded by boats at the police dock here also in the last throes of preparations to head south, to a country that really feels foreign and doesn’t have fog. The energy is contagious. We’re almost there.

A Beautiful but Tempestuous Coast

Since we are well into October we thought it best to boogie down the California coast as quick as we can since frankly, we are tired of wool socks and mildew was still sprouting everywhere on the boat. And we are only weeks away from crossing the border into Mexico. Oh my!

We waited out some southerly weather in Half Moon Bay for a few days, then as soon as it abated started down the coast again towards Monterey Bay. We stopped into Santa Cruz for the night, making the dire mistake of taking the girls for an evening walk to the famous boardwalk. There were copious amounts of tears as we looked through the gates of the darkened amusement park and the charming carousel horses. A couple of scoops of ice-cream though and spirits were soon lifted.

Oh glorious non-moving land!

The next day, after a good romp around the beach, we had a perfect sail across the bay to Monterey: sunny, clear blue skies, steady 12 knots of wind on the beam for 20 miles. Marvelous. We anchored out off the harbor for several nights and enjoyed a day-long visit to the amazing Monterey Bay Aquarium. Heavy swells were predicted to come rolling down from the northwest again (making the anchorage very uncomfortable) so we took to the dock our last two nights in Monterey. We also once again waited out a southerly weather system which brought lots of wind and amazing amounts of rain for the area.

The weather finally shifted in our favor again and we set off for our first overnight sail as a family to Morro Bay. I’m happy to say the night went flawlessly; we left Monterey right at noon and picked up 15-20 knots from the northwest as soon as we cleared the bay and started south. It was a beautiful night: a clear sky full of stars, a nearly-full moon ahead of us, a path of moonlight lighting our course south. The wind stayed with us until after midnight, then it was glassy until our arrival at Morro Bay at 0900 the next morning. Michael and I took our usual watches of 3 hours each and the girls slept through the whole night like it was any other.

We only spent one night in Morro Bay as our weather window to round Point Conception (the “Cape Horn of the Pacific” according to our Charlie’s Charts guidebook) was already upon us with nearly gale-force winds forecast later in the week. So off we were again. The forecast was for 15-20 with gusts of 25 around the Cape so we stayed well off the coast fearing a Blanco-like situation. I was so nervous I got seasick – incapacitatingly seasick — for the very first time ever and Michael had to manage the boat for nearly the entire 100-mile trip. He is truly amazing!

The world's best aquarium (dolphins playing with Wondertime, enroute to Ventura)

The passage turned out to be perfect and my anxiety was all for nothing of course. We rolled out the genoa once outside the Morro Bay bar and sailed the entire way into San Miguel Island. We even got to put our spinnaker up for a few hours just north of Point Conception. Indeed, our highest winds were about 25 knots but Wondertime was just delighted and rolled and boogied down the waves with ease. Michael had to slow the boat down so we could enter the harbor at daybreak and it was such a relief to set the Rocna in the still-windy but non-moving waters of stunning Cuyler Harbor.

Our first day at San Miguel was spent napping and watching movies but on the second day we were fit to launch the dinghy, head ashore with our friends on Convivia, play on the huge sugary sand dunes and watch the white waves roll into shore from the turquoise sea. It was a delightful afternoon.

Until the wind. It was already quite breezy when we took the dinghy into shore but we were all aware that the number of whitecaps on the water were steadily increasing, sand was starting to blow around us and our boats looked like they were rolling a lot more than when we’d left them. It was time to head back. Swell had started to roll into the bay so we had our first dinghy launching into the surf which went flawlessly thankfully.

Hot hot hot!

The next 12 hours were spent clinging to Wondertime as steady 30-knot winds came blasting down the hillsides with sharp williwaws easily twice that speed being thrown at us like daggers. We actually had spindrift flying past us and two foot chop coming from the shore just a few hundred feet in front of us. It was enough wind to pick our new RIB dinghy up and fly it into the air like a kite as we were trying to heave it back onboard between gusts. We slept none too soundly that night.

But our mighty anchor held and the wind had eased by morning. With a huge swell rolling into the bay we were rolling gunnel to gunnel  and were happy to hoist our chain and set off for Ventura. Along the way we shed our fleece, wool socks and hats as the temperature got warmer and warmer with each mile we traveled east. We have finally reached our perpetual summer. And a calm harbor for a long, long, nap.