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A tale of two windlasses

Looking back on all that needed to fall into place to get us where we are today — swinging in the hammock at anchor in our underwear in Banderas Bay 10 days before Christmas — we are continually amazed at all the serendipitous events that have occurred along the way. Even now as we approach our 6-month cruising anniversary we have been blown away at the good luck? divine intervention? that is keeping us going. When our windlass decided to throw in the towel 300 miles south of San Diego we started scanning the horizon for luck as we sure didn’t have any idea what else to do.

Wondertime came equipped with a manual Simpson Lawrence Seatiger 555 windlass. (For the non-boaties: this is basically a big winch that lives on the bow whose job is to hoist up hundreds of feet of our anchor chain and our 55 lb. anchor when it’s time to move on. “Manual” means it uses arm power, not electricity, to get the job done.) These units are legendary for being bulletproof and trustworthy and offer up a nice upper body workout to boot.

We had the same simple windlass on our previous boat, Pelican; we always were happy with the unit as it never let us down and were glad that Wondertime came equipped with the same model. Over the past months of putting our current windlass into full time use, however, it became clear that either we weren’t as strong as we were in our 20s (probably true) or our trusty winch was getting crankier and crankier. It continually has become more and more difficult to hoist up the anchor chain. Michael would fill the unit with fresh grease and it would improve for a bit but the windlass has continually been getting stiffer and even starting to jam if cranked too quickly.

In San Diego we put “replace or repair windlass” at the top of the list. It’s true we did search online and phone a variety of used marine gear stores for a replacement Seatiger but came up empty-handed. These units are now out of production, however we could buy a new one from a fellow in Scotland who used to work for Simpson-Lawrence and keeps a stock of spares and occasionally has an entire new 555 for sale — for about $3200 shipped. With this price in mind we started looking at installing a new electric (hurrah!) windlass but since our Seatiger fits perfectly on top of our bowsprit we’d have to do quite a bit of engineering to fit a different model of windlass.

With all this taken into consideration we made the — rather silly in hindsight — decision to do…nothing. At the time it made perfect sense: since we couldn’t fix it now we’d fix it later. Really though, we just hoped it would crank the chain up a few more times until we could get somewhere in Mexico where we could take the unit apart and have it rebuilt, the most economical solution.

It really is more fun to work on your boat in exotic places, even if a West Marine is nowhere nearby

In Turtle Bay, however, it was agonizingly slow as the windlass jammed again and again when we hoisted our chain the day we needed to move to the south side of the bay in anticipation of a southerly blow coming through the bay the next day. Clearly, it wouldn’t be prudent to put the project off any longer; if we needed to leave an anchorage quickly, say strong winds blowing through in the middle of the night as often happens off Baja, we would have to pull the chain in by hand or possibly be forced to drop our anchoring gear if conditions were bad enough.

It was largely for this reason that we sailed directly from Bahia Magdalena to Banderas Bay, which contains a plethora of services for cruisers and where we hoped to get our windlass rebuilt. We pulled into the marina in La Cruz near our friends on Del Viento and after the girls ran off to play we mentioned to Del Viento Michael that our first job here was to fix or replace our windlass (now feeling more than a little depressed that we’d not taken the job more seriously in San Diego). He told us: “Hey, I think there was a guy selling that same model at the swap meet last weekend. I almost bought it — he was only asking $150 — it seemed to work perfectly!”

Our spirits buoyed, Wondertime Michael borrowed their dinghy to zip out to the anchorage where the seller was moored to see if he still had the windlass, but he wasn’t home at the time. The next morning we got on the 8:30 am cruiser’s VHF net and asked about the windlass and if it was still available to which another cruiser replied “Sorry, but I bought it!”

Dammit.

Our new-to-us Seatiger 555 is installed and we are anchored out again. (Why do we have toothpick-encrusted swim noodles strapped to our bow? Because pelican poop is really hard to scrub off the bowsprit and pelicans hate toothpicks in their feet!)

So we were quickly on to Plan B. After a few days at the dock we figured that we may as well go out and anchor, drop the chain with the windlass and then take it off to start the process of rebuilding it. We found a nice spot on the outer edge of the anchorage, set the hook well and then Michael got busy taking off the old Seatiger. He’d just got it removed when suddenly there was another boat right next to us. Turns out we’d anchored next to someone on 300′ of rode who had a WIDE swinging circle and we’d need to re-anchor.

This time, Michael did pull up the chain by hand and we promptly motored back to the dock as he swore he’d never do that again.

We pulled into a slip on dock 4 (the lower rent district, the marina office had informed us as we’d left dock 9 earlier in the day). Some nearby cruisers came over to help us with our lines.

“Oh boy!” one of the chaps said when he saw the mess on our bow. “You really do need that windlass more than I do!”

Turns out he was the one who’d bought the used Seatiger at the previous week’s swapmeet with plans to rebuild it one day. And he kindly sold it to us for the same price he paid. We were floored to say the least.

Our new-old Seatiger 555 is now securely mounted atop our bow and is as smooth as can be and hoists our chain and anchor up in no time. Another stroke of serendipity — not to mention the outrageous kindness of fellow sailors — and we’re ready to go again.

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November 2011 Cruising Expenses

After a mere month in Mexico, we have already reached cruising budget nirvana! We were delighted to find in November that cruising Mexico really is still cheap. Here’s what we got for just a touch over $1500 USD for the month of November: time at the dock in both Ensenada and at the luxurious new Marina Riviera Nayarit in La Cruz, full diesel tanks, four 6-month Mexico tourist visas and one Temporary Import Permit for the boat, a three-year birthday party, a delicious Thanksgiving dinner at the gourmet marina restaurant I didn’t need to lift a finger for, countless taco cart visits, trips to the ice-cream freezer, and ice-cold Pacificos consumed at various palapa bars, taxi ride home with a huge load of groceries, a used Seatiger 555 windlass (story coming soon…), laundry dropped off and picked up washed, dried and folded, two haircuts, and high-speed cell internet service right on our boat. Living in the lap of luxury at thrift store prices — thanks in large part to our excellent exchange rate (nearly 14 pesos per $1USD).

S/V Wondertime’s November 2011 Cruising Expenses

bus/taxi – $12
cat supplies – $5
cell phone – $32
clothing – $30
diesel – $263
eating out – $264
gifts – $20
groceries – $260
haircuts – $13
tourist visas – $78
internet (banda ancha cell card) – $50
laundry – $34
marina water/electricity – $11
moorage – $242
mp3 download – $7
skype – $10
souvenirs – $44
temporary import permit for boat – $50
used windlass – $150

total: $1,575

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Video: Riding the bus home to La Cruz

While there is a ton of live music around La Cruz and Banderas Bay at night (for example, on our boat here at the La Cruz anchorage at 10 pm we can hear at least three “musical” events coming from the beach right now), due to our having young crew we don’t get to stay out late very often to hear it close up. No matter, more often than not we are treated to live music right on our bus rides to and from Puerto Vallarta. Truly the best live entertainment around.

 

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Racing Out of Our Comfort Zone

“There’s cheap beer and tacos up at PV Sailing tonight!” announced our new friend and La Cruz dock neighbor Tami on Andiamo III one afternoon last week. Without thinking twice, we packed up the kids and headed over.

It turned out to be a meet and greet for cruisers and local sailing vendors and we enjoyed meeting all sorts of new folks. And while the beer was very cold and cheap and the tacos muy delicioso, the goal for the evening was to get boats to sign up for the Banderas Bay Blast, a four-day charity fun-race being held the following week.

As dusk fell, the girls were tired and had had enough of our yakking and we quietly snuck out with them. “It would sure be fun to do a race like that someday,” I said to Michael. “Hey…maybe we should do it now?”

“Let’s go for it!” he replied and I ran back inside to put our name down on the list of race boats.

One of our goals for this trip is to not pass on opportunities that lie outside our comfort zone, which we tend to want to do, as do most people I assume. There’s been a number of chances we could have taken in the past – both large and small – and few things are worse than regret at “what would have happened if we had…?” Whether it’s taking a job opportunity in Alaska, or sailing across an ocean, or just talking to someone we really want to meet, we are learning not to let these types of adventures pass us by.

Riding a panga in through the Punta Mita surf to the after-race moonlit beach dinner

Sailing in the Banderas Bay Blast was not to be one of them. Believe it or not, it was the very first time I have ever raced a boat and Michael’s first since he was a kid. We were a little nervous at what to expect as we motored Wondertime up to the start line but with the help of our crew (the Del Vientos, who we originally met in Olympia when they drove through in their car on their way to their boat in Mexico and who our girls are over the moon to have now reunited with in La Cruz) we soon had the sails up and were across the starting line right on time. With a bow full of giggling girls, we tacked back and forth across sunny and warm Banderas Bay all afternoon, making our way to Punta Mita and the finish.

We certainly weren’t the first to cross the finish line, and it’s entirely possible we were the last in our class, but we didn’t care. It was an awesome challenge sailing upwind in very light air (yes, we can point higher than the big cats!) and as we and our crew took a panga ride to shore through the Punta Mita surf for dinner on the beach we were all grinning ear to ear.

The following day was the final leg, a downwind spinnaker run to Paradise Village (this one with just the Wondertime crew aboard). Once again, our sailing skills and patience were challenged as we struggled to keep the boat moving at a decent pace in the 5-8 knots of wind from astern. In the end, we folded that race as we were moving 1.5 knots still 6 miles from the finish with the time limit looming. No matter, we were hardly bummed at getting to our free slip at Paradise, enjoying a scrumptious dinner at the Puerto Vallarta Yacht Club and taking a dip in the huge pool.

While the two free slips and three parties had enticed us at the beginning to sign up for the Blast, it really was the racing that we’ll remember. I dare say that our sailing skills have improved a touch with the added factor of competition thrown in. I mean, we gybed our cruising spinnaker in three minutes flat! While Michael and I have sailed together as a team for years, it was an entirely new experience to try to do things quickly – which is what you do in a race it seems but not too often when sailing a slow cruising boat southward — and remain calm at the same time. And definitely not least, we also had an amazing day of taking our new friends out sailing.

As always happens when we don’t let an opportunity pass by, we gain much more than we ever think we will.

Click here for Latitude 38’s coverage of the Blast (with photos of the Wondertime girls tossing water ballons at the Poobah and Wondertime at the start line!)

Photo by Gato Go

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Thoughts on a Crossing

450 miles, all barefoot

We arrived in La Cruz, in Banderas Bay next to Puerto Vallarta, nearly a week ago. It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and so we’d arrive in time for a nice big helping of turkey and mashed potatoes we sailed nonstop: south from Bahia Magdalena, past the taunting lights of Cabo San Lucas and then 275 miles across the southernmost portion of the Sea of Cortez. 450 miles, four days and nights of sailing.

Holly quietly passes the time underway

When I think of the distances it’s possible to travel nonstop on a small sailboat, our little trip was like a daysail. But for us, it was the longest passage so far on this journey. Along the way, I thought of so many things I wanted to write down but usually I was laying in front of a fan and didn’t feel like getting up. Now, it’s like looking back at a dream: some of it I strain to remember while other parts are unforgettable, details totally clear in my memory.

We left Bahia Magdalena in the late afternoon and inched our way south to Cabo that first night and day and night slowly, two and three knots at a time. We flew our spinnaker during the day then took it down at night and poled out the genoa to catch the very light following breeze. We rounded Cabo Falso in the early morning hours and were happy to have the wind pick up with us as we scooted around the cape, pointing the bow more easterly.

Once clear of Cabo the wind died down to nearly nothing so we took the opportunity to charge the batteries, depleted in the overcast skies. Then only an hour or two later the wind turned on like a faucet; a light norther was blowing down the Sea of Cortez, 20-25 knots forecast at times, and we were now in it.

Here is where the dream really starts: 20 knots of wind just slightly aft of the beam for days and days, or so it feels like. Our main is double-reefed, the genoa furled in a touch. Wondertime just romps along, delighted. This time, we are just passengers, reefing and unreefing as the steady northerly winds rise and fall slightly over the next two days. Miles and miles passing under our keel and all we really have to do is hang on and eat and play.

Our guest one afternoon

I’m trying to remember details but mostly it’s just feelings that come back: nausea and tiredness from holding on as the boat rolls to starboard again and again with the waves rolling down from the north; dry mouth trying to chew cheese and crackers (the only thing I can manage to serve up to my hungry crew for dinner that first night across), dripping with sweat in the humid, tropical 85-degree interior cabin, trying to keep my heavy eyes open during my 4 am watch.

The third day we are halfway across the sea, nearly 150 miles from the closest land. That’s when the magic happens.

It is night, the clouds have cleared, the crescent moon is not yet up and the sky is a mess of stars. The rest of the crew is below asleep, I am outside in the cockpit, Ulrich Schnauss on the iPod, gazing around in the blackness which is lit up by our phosphorescent wake. The boat is romping along through the night on the same port tack we’ve been on for a whole day and a half. Shoooosh, shoooosh, shoooosh. I feel like I am floating. Happy. Suddenly this seems so very easy. We could do this forever.

Maybe we will.

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