Passage to the Marquesas

[Kyle]We slept in, had a long, big brunch, went through our departure checklist slowly and then pulled up the anchor just after noon.

For our first day, we were still in the lee of the Baja peninsula as we crept down the coast toward Cabo San Lucas. By sunrise, we were just off of that city making the very last use of our cell phone signal to download weather and send a last few goodbye texts. When the signal finally failed, we made a slight left turn to head due south. The strong winds on the Pacific side of Baja joined us and we finally went from bobbing around to sailing smartly in our chosen direction.

Since the land in México is quite high, it took a nearly a day longer to lose sight of it. We were still hearing all sorts of radio traffic for two more days after that, most of which was the insipid chatter of adults who seemed incapable of acting like it. I wouldn’t have minded so much if they used their own frequency for their drivel, but they kept hogging the emergency frequency instead. We were monitoring it in case someone actually needed help, which meant whoever was off watch was constantly being awakened by the Mexican lower-class version of the Howard Stern Show.

Good Food and easy sailing on passage (we must be using the spinnaker here)

When we finally did get a couple hundred miles from the last land that we could actually see, Isla Socorro, the radio fell silent and we finally felt the solitude of having the whole world to ourselves. The wind stayed strong and steady and the days and nights were crystal clear as we ticked off the degrees and minutes of latitude separating us from the equator. The only drama we had during that stretch was the our nightly battle with the Boobys. Every night, just after sunset, several boobys would try to roost on our sensitive and delicate masthead instruments for a rest. It would take screaming, banging on the mast and shining spotlights on them to keep them at bay until it was too dark for them to land. Most of this was Maryanne’s doing while I was trying to fall asleep. It was hard to resist the urge to get involved.

Kyle negotiates with the birds and the weather isn't always so great

On Day 8, we crossed the path we had taken three years and one day earlier when we were on Day 15 of the passage from the Galapagos to Hawai’i, completing a big North Pacific loop that had stretched over 10,000 nautical miles.

The day after that, a dark band of cloud appeared just to the south of 9°N. It was right around first light that we finally made it underneath. We had been sailing under the spinnaker and I was worried it was going to get gusty, so I pulled it down and put up our regular working sail, expecting to be reefing almost as soon as I was done.

Instead, the wind ceased entirely and we coasted to a stop. A couple of minutes after that, the sky opened up and it started raining straight down in sheets. We had arrived at the ITCZ – the Inter Tropical Convergence Zone –the band of calm air straddling the equator. In spite of the fact that it was near the end of my watch and I was really too tired for it, I had been promising myself for days that when it should occur, I would not fail to take advantage of a “free shower”. I grabbed a bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap and left the protection of the cockpit. Once I accepted that I was going to get wet, it felt good. It was marvelous warm tropical rain. Days of salt washed off the decks and windows as well as months of Mexican dust high up the mast.

For the next three days, it took almost constant sail changes and adjustment to keep moving. It was so hot and humid that almost any physical effort would drench us in sweat. Since it was raining forty minutes out of every hour, we had plenty of chance to get freshened up afterwards.

The ITCZ was supposed to last until 4° or 6° South, which was around 900 more miles. We knew it was going to be a frustrating week or two to get across. We got kind of lucky though. After the rain stopped, a light wind of only about five knots filled in from the east. One of the things we really like about Begonia is that we can keep her sailing in almost any wind we can feel. This allowed us to make slow but steady progress further south when we were expecting to be mostly drifting.

At about 2°N, we saw the lights of many different fishing boats in the distance through the night. We hadn’t seen or heard anyone for days and weren’t really expecting to. Our route was intended to give us the shortest distance to the trade winds in the southern tropics and only made sense for a sailboat. Ships, planes and anybody else trying to go from one population center to another would have been several hundred miles out of their way to get to us. If you didn’t know we were planning a big right turn at the trade winds, it would have looked like we were heading to a part Antarctica with no stations. I suppose population centers for fish are different because there were suddenly half a dozen boats around.

Fishing boats and their helicoptors!

Around sunrise, I heard a thumping noise, which had me thinking one of our props had come unfeathered and was windmilling. It turned out to be an approaching helicopter. It approached and then slowed to a hover alongside at about 50’ and 200’ away. I waved. The pilot waved. I waved again. The pilot waved again and then it flew off in its original direction. The helicopter had a Panamanian registration number and I knew the model. There was no way, even with long-range tanks, that that helicopter could have made the fifteen-hour flight from land. It turned out to be a spotting helicopter launched off the roof of one of the fishing boats. Those fish have no chance.

On day 16, the wind carried us across the equator into the Southern Hemisphere, changing the season from Spring to Autumn. We managed to keep the same wind all of the way to 4°S. We passed another fleet of the same type of fishing boats just south of the equator. In the morning, I was visited by a different helicopter of the same type as before. We did the wave, wave, wave, wave thing and they flew off.

Our 3rd Equator crossing - And some days later - LANDFALL!

It was about ten minutes before the end of Maryanne’s night watch when we abruptly sailed out of the ITCZ and into the southern trades. She was sailing under spinnaker and had made a 90° turn to keep it filled and then woke me up. I pulled it down, put our working sail back up and then sailed as close as I could bear to the wind into the rapidly building seas. There was still an area of calm to the west of us that we needed to get south of so we still needed to be heading as close to south as possible, even though it wasn’t particularly comfortable. I eventually decided speed didn’t matter to me as much as comfort, so I threw in a couple of unnecessary reefs just to slow us down and make it easier for Maryanne to sleep.

Fourteen hours later, we were far enough south to bear off and let the trade winds carry us directly to the Marquesas. We were just over halfway.

The southern trades were not nearly as reliable as the northern ones. The direction was good, but the speed was variable and we spent quite a bit of time getting rained on. One bright spot was when we got an afternoon visit from our first dolphins in a while. They started as a small group of a dozen our so. I was particularly taken by a little baby one that couldn’t have been more than a day or two old. Like a new foal or a fawn, they have to hit the ground running, so to speak. He was taking about three breaths for every one of hers and was jumping out of the water when she was. He was so cute. The little guy could have fit in a suitcase – a pocket dolphin!

As far as other wildlife, there wasn’t much else to entertain us apart from a few flying fish who would flee as we approached. Occasionally, we would find an unlucky one who met its end on our deck in the night. At more than 1000 nautical miles from land, we were spared any insects of any kind, which was nice. The one thing we had that wasn’t expected was gooseneck barnacles. We have been on long passages before, even in this area on the way to Hawai’i and never had a problem with them. Our antifouling paint is in good condition. The only thing I can think of is that we have been in much warmer water for a much longer period of time. Water around the Galapagos is cool (around 27°C). We spent a couple of weeks in the mid thirties on that passage before returning to the high twenties in Hawai’i. On this passage, there was a large section of 37°C water north and south of the equator with a slight dip to 35.5° between, so we spent almost the whole time in the high thirties. I started noticing the barnacles growing anywhere not protected by our paint, which included large areas above the painted waterline in the splash zone and the spots on the bottom of the keels where we couldn’t paint in the yard because the boat was resting on them.

Dolphins!

We read a tip from another boater who suggested trailing a line 30 minutes a day to rub against the hull, thus preventing them from getting purchase. We did this for a few days. It seemed to help, but then we decided we were rubbing off too much paint, so we suspended the practice and decided I would just have to spend a day after we arrived scraping them off. It was hard to just watch them accumulate knowing it was costing us performance.

Our progress was more west than south now. We turned at 116°W and were heading to 139°W. In our new direction, the night sky seemed all wrong. The Southern Cross was to port and Jupiter was now ahead (on my watch). The sunrise and sunset both happened about ten minutes later every day until I was waking up Maryanne for her day watch in the pre-dawn darkness instead of the bright sunlight in which we started.

On day 24, at about 128°W, the wind decreased slightly and we switched again from our normal working sails to the spinnaker. It was still up five days later when we spotted the lush green cliffs of Hiva Oa as they emerged from behind a passing rain shower.

We had been simultaneously looking forward to and dreading this moment. The perfect solitude of our little world at sea had been broken. The anchorage was reputed to be tricky and there was going to be a lot of unpleasant work to do before it would be time to kick back and be in vacation mode.

We have done enough long passages by now that finally spotting an island after weeks at sea seems more routine than the life changing event an ocean crossing is supposed to be. While it will never be 100% because each crossing presents it’s own unexpected challenges, we are starting to feel like we know how to do long sails.

This passage presented us with few real problems. Heat and boredom were probably our biggest issues and our only minor mechanical problems were quickly and easily fixed with what we had on board.

Love the sunsets and sunrises

The big deal about this passage though – the really big deal, was that it took us to the Marquesas. Of all of the places in the world that we have dreamt of sailing, the Marquesas is the first one I couldn’t fit around our work schedules. We had to rearrange much of our adult lives and most of our careers so that we could retire early and someday way in the far, far future, we could sail to the Marquesas and most of the places beyond. Now we were looking at it. I just wish it weren’t so hot.

Our first landfall in tiny Atuona harbor on Hiva Oa required us to set two anchors to keep us in place, since there’s not enough room for boats to swing on their anchors. This is a huge hassle compared to one. Begonia is all set up for one anchor, which can be set in ten minutes. Two requires the other to be dug out of the locker along with several hundred feet of heavy line, which has to be manhandled off of the stern while the person in front is faffing with the main anchor. We managed to not look too foolish doing it, but it still took us a couple of hours to get done. Atuona is well protected from the trade winds, so doing all of that work in the midday tropical sun with no breeze had us both completely overheated and drenched in sweat by the time we flopped down in the shade to have a look at where we were.

It really is beautiful. The green hills climb away from the water with increasing steepness until they disappear as cliffs into the clouds overhead. Occasionally they will break and we will look up hoping for a glimpse of the elusive tops only to find a wall reaching into clouds even higher up. When those would part, with necks craning, we could see the unreachable spire at the summit. The whole place smells like flowers and wet earth. Time to pop the champagne we had won at the other end in La Paz!

Passage from La Paz – Frailes

[Kyle]Leaving Marina de La Paz, our plan was to stop at two different anchorages for a final rest and organize before leaving the Baja Peninsula for the long ocean crossing. The legality of this was a bit fuzzy since we had only been given 48 hours to leave the country after clearing out the day before. Our dinghy was in full lifeboat mode for the crossing, so we had no plans to go ashore at either location, which meant that we were technically not reentering the country. A boat at anchor, even though it is hooked to the sea bed and not underway, is still considered to be navigating, since it is not at a berth. We were hoping to not have to argue the nuances of international maritime law with a patrol boat in broken Spanish, but at least we wouldn’t be there with no basis whatsoever.

Sunsets at sea - we love them...

We had a pretty slow night going through the Carralvo Channel, which separates the Bay of La Paz from the rest of the Sea of Cortez. It usually blows like crazy through there, so we had been expecting better progress. By morning, it was apparent that we were just barely going to make it to our first planned stop at Bahia de los Muertos before it got dark. With all of the activity of anchoring, getting settled and then having to leave the next day, we figured we wouldn’t be getting much rest, so we decided to skip it spend another night underway to get to our next stop at Frailes, where we had spent our first night at anchor after entering the Sea of Cortez almost three months earlier.

Provisions stowed - Flag has worked hard and can now be retired

We arrived sufficiently early the next day to have a whole 24 hours to rest up for the passage. Maryanne pre-cooked a bunch of food for the first few days.

Last Few Days in La Paz

[Kyle]After a couple more days in La Paz, we’re finally ready to set off. {Maryanne: as ready as we can be}

We got two sets of transmission parts, just in case one of them tries puling that trick again. I’ve taken the thing apart so many times now that I could probably replace the relevant parts in under an hour. Let’s hope it never comes to that.

All of our mail managed to get to us just a few minutes before the marina closed for the night, so we didn’t have to abandon any of it. {Maryanne: Excellent news for the Tupperware food processing front!}

One of the best moments for me, which was nowhere near the end, was after yet another trip to the store. I was sorting through a huge pile of purchases trying to figure out where to stow it all. I asked Maryanne what I should do with our shopping bags. I expected her to say, “Put them in the cockpit for our next trip”. Instead, she said, “Put them away. We won’t be needing them for a while”. Woo, Hoo!!

Today (Apr. 5th 2017), we went through the convoluted process of clearing out. It wasn’t that difficult, just time consuming. And the process of self-checkout had been meticulously documented by prior cruisers on the local Club Cruceros web site. One of the government offices we needed to visit, Immigration, was clear on the other side of town from the others, so there was a lot of shuttling back and forth.

Artwork of La Paz Malecon

The guy at Immigration seemed especially annoyed with us. Most boats departing for international destinations from Baja leave Cabo San Lucas because it’s at the tip. We weren’t falling for that because everything in Cabo has a crazy rich tourist markup. Even though the forms were not that complicated and had been filled out by us so that all he needed to do was check it was correct and imprint a stamp. He got irritated when we didn’t have a photocopy of our passports, boat registration and Begonia’s Temporary Import Permit, which we didn't know we needed need. When we asked if they could make a copy, he said we would have to go to a copy place two blocks away. Maryanne managed to dig out copies that she keeps for most of the paperwork he requested, but not the TIP. He took our forms without the copy, looked at them, read them carefully and then disappeared into the back for half an hour. Maryanne thinks he was making coffee to prove a point. When he came back, he stamped our forms and then made a copy of our TIP using a copy machine that was within arm’s reach.

With the paperwork all done, we returned to the marina, where we learned we had won yet another prize in a raffle we had entered a few days earlier. It was a bucket of goodies which included two bottles of wine and one of champagne. The other available prizes were a haircut, a free breakfast or a month at the dinghy dock, none of which we could have used before leaving. The bucket of luxury goods was a fantastic send off.

So the time has come for us to leave México and head for the southern hemisphere, where I understand everything is upside down. We have been looking forward to this for a very long time so we are very excited. The main reason I retired early was because we wanted to go to the South Pacific, but there was no way I could figure out a workable commute. Now we can go anywhere, the weather window has opened up and we’re off!

La Paz

Maryanne: The visit to La Paz was primarily for administration, mail, and re-provisioning. We also unexpectedly had to deal with the repairs after the crash, and a failed computer so the chore list was even longer than we expected (not unusual). We (or at least I) were also hoping to have some tourist time while we were there. Luckily all the walking back and forth took us past many of the highlights, it was a real pleasure to get to the Whale Museum, the waterfront promenade (Malecon) was always a pleasure and we even made it inside a church or too. Of course we also ate out a few times (since we'll be a month at sea with just my cooking) and Kyle was particularly fond of the margaritas).

But yes, it all got done, and we are indeed headed off towards the South Pacific islands - Woo Hoo indeed!!!

First few days in La Paz - Ouch!

[Kyle]We stayed in Caleta Lobos exactly four times as long as was necessary to get the full feel for the place. Actually, it was six because the mediocre cell phone signal we had been so excited about on the first day mysteriously vanished. The flies were driving us crazy and I was so bored I was actually going around the boat looking for stuff to fix. What the hell?

A couple of days before we could get a marina reservation, we repositioned to the anchorage in La Paz, where there was much more to do and see. Anchored along with us was unusually high concentration of derelict trimarans. One was cream colored with a peeling red boot stripe. A closer look through the binoculars revealed a handful of pelicans standing guard on deck. Also, the boot stripe turned out not to be peeling. It was the only part of the red topsides that wasn’t covered by cream-colored guano. Eeewwww!

Hints of what awaits us ashore - La Paz is a good size city with a population of 1/4 million and a large exPat & cruising/boating community.

Beyond that was the busy malecón, with its strolling tourists and its outdoor restaurants spilling thumping music into the bay. Most entertaining for me was the pangueros. By entertaining, I mean it in the narrow sense that they occupied my attention and gave me something to do as opposed to being fun and enjoyable.

Most of the pangueros in the area seem to overnight at one of the nearby marinas. In the morning, many of them reposition to the beach to pick up passengers for fishing or tours. In the afternoon, when they’re done, they drop everyone off and then go to the marinas for the night. Along the way, they pass through the anchorage.

A little digression: México has for the most part been great (amazingly wonderful, in fact). It’s beautiful, warm and dry and the people especially have been very nice everywhere we have been. So far, there have been only two things about it that I consistently don’t like. I’ll save the second one for a future post when it bubbles up to the surface (No, it’s not the water. That wasn’t a hint). The first is that, for some reason, unlike almost anywhere else in the world that we’ve been so far, there seems to be no social convention whatsoever making it unacceptable to throw a wake. There’s always going to be that one jerk that ignores the No Wake signs because the world obviously revolves around him, but for the most part, the boater’s social custom is that it’s considered rude, dangerous, and unnecessary to throw wakes in anchorages, marinas and work areas. In Mexico, to be fair, it seems less that they’re trying to be rude and more that it just never enters their minds that there’s a two or three foot wave streaming back from each side of their boat.

Such as it is with the pangas. Every morning at sunrise, a stream of them come around the corner from the marinas and take a shortcut to the beach right through the anchorage. Begonia seemed to be one of the boats near their imaginary line, so we were often passed within inches by pangas at full speed. A few times, they were so close that I was worried they would cut our anchor bridle. Sometimes, when we were inside, we’d hear the noise of a distant propeller. It would suddenly get louder and WHAM; stuff would fall off of the shelves. Among the pangueros, there seems to be a particular machismo to weaving their way by as close and as fast as possible, as if they are all training for some sort of Olympic panga competition instead of wrecking people’s homes.

I discovered through trial and error that if I stood on deck in a clearly visible spot and gave them the stink eye (friendly waves didn’t work, nor did aggressive gestures), they all passed a little further off and most would even slow down. It seems to me that this means they must know they’re being naughty. I couldn’t stand baking in the sun all day, so I took to going out when I spotted one coming around the corner. That seemed to give us about 70% relief. Every now and then, I’d get surprised though, like the time some kid came by close enough for me to have leaned out and dope-slapped him on the forehead, which he deserved because the whole time, he was looking down at his PHONE! This place is giving me the heebie-jeebies. Luckily, tourists will only pay to see stuff in the daytime, so we were safe at night.

I was SO looking forward to getting away from the pangas and into a marina.

Eventually it was time to move into the marina.. that was a little stressful, though. The currents in the harbor are strong, so we were to arrive at slack water. We called ahead to verify the space was ready (empty) and requested deckhands to be there to assist. The slip we were assigned required a lot of tight manoeuvring, which I was really hoping not to have to do since our port transmission was not functional from the helm. Maryanne lay on top of the engine wearing an intercom headset acting as a remote shift lever, which meant we lost our best, most experienced line handler until the last shift into neutral.

I tried to plan our approach so that we needed as few gear changes as possible. We almost made it. We got Begonia lined up and stopped one spot too early. Before we could get moving again, the current pushed us up against the side of the boat there as if we had been intending to raft up to them instead of pull into the next slip. A quick-moving dockhand and I managed to keep us from touching by holding Begonia off with our hands and then walking our palms along to get her into the slip. Whew! It made me look like it was my first time driving the boat, but at least we were safely tied up. When the commotion died down, I looked up and saw from where all of the pangas had come. There was a long line of them parallel parked ahead of us. Every one of them was going to have to pass right by us on the way out. Groan. At least they shouldn’t be up to speed by then.

Apart from the panga situation, Marina de La Paz is great. It is the center of an active local cruising community. The staff are all really nice and helpful and the place is well maintained. The best part is the water. Both waters, actually. The water in which the boats float is full of a huge variety of tropical fish, all just milling around in the clear water. It’s amazing! Believe it or not, the best snorkeling we have had in México is walking the dock from Begonia to the office. The marina’s a giant aquarium.

The other water is the dock water that comes out of the hose. It’s supplied by the marina’s own desalination plant. It’s clean and potable and comes included in the slip fee, which means we can wash the salt off the boat and then fill our tanks without having to pay some poor guy to lug jugs of purified water to us.

While we were mostly busy with chores, we DID thankfully get to see a little of the tourist side of La Paz

A lot of people come to La Paz on holiday so they can take a trip to the islands. We’ve already been to the islands, so being in a marina meant one thing: jobs. As soon as the last line was tied, Maryanne grabbed a handful of lists and we started chipping away at all of the jobs that needed doing before we left.

Some were a lot easier than expected. We left our propane cylinder at the office and a local cab driver took it and the others to be refilled. The full tanks were all back in a couple of hours. It was similar with the laundry. We could do it ourselves or, for an extra ten pesos per load (50¢), they would take it from us, babysit it while it’s being done and return it to us in a neatly folded stack later that afternoon. That left us free to get further down our respective lists.

Maryanne went into town to try to chase up transmission parts while I made a couple of trips to the nearest gas station with a dock cart full of jerry cans for diesel, much to the amusement of the attendant. We topped it off with a meal out, where I’d managed to knock Maryanne’s beer bottle onto the floor before she’d even had her first sip. Our poor waiter took the subsequent clean-up in stride, although he seemed to be upset about the needless loss of perfectly good beer. We managed to recover after that and had a pretty good evening.

Just after sunrise the next morning, I heard the first panga leaving and instinctively looked out the window to watch it approach. The current was really moving past Begonia and I remember thinking these guys must be pretty good to be able to deal with that every day.

Three seconds later, there was a BANG! as he hit us hard. Maryanne was closest to the door and went outside to find him speeding up and trying to get out of view around the corner. She yelled at him, which made him stop. {Maryanne: He probably didn't expect we'd be up at 6:30 in the morning, and even I'm amazed I was} He kept saying the current was strong, the current was strong. It’s hard to tell with my limited Spanish, but he seemed to have a hint of a “What’s the big deal?” tone in his voice. He said he was late and left.

So you’re telling me it’s okay to just bumper-car your way out whenever the current is strong? I don’t think so. Instead of going slowly and crabbing into it, he gunned it and tried to power out of it when it set him sideways, which meant he was going fast when he hit us, which meant he hit hard when he hit us. {Maryanne: The marina slip we were allocated severely restricted the panga access in a particularly strong and difficult area of current. The marina must have understood they were partly to blame as they promptly rearranged boats and moved us back a little. Since this was our first time in La Paz, and our first night in that slip, we didn't understand the danger we were in until it was too late, but the marina really should have kept that space clear for the pangas access.}

The Pangas have a narrow channel and a wicked current to deal with - one found himself caught and powered up to escape, only to crash into us.. resulting in a loud bang and a 14" crack in our hull to resolve

We were hoping he had just made a lot of noise when he hit (fiberglass is a lot stronger than it looks), but when we looked at the impact point, we found a fourteen-inch crack surrounded by yellow paint. Begonia has a cored hull made of two layers of fiberglass separated by high density foam. He cracked the outer layer and dented the foam, but didn’t breach the hull. This was not bad but it was not good either. We were supposed to be heading offshore within a week and now we had the extra job of coordinating the repair. We were really hoping we wouldn’t need to be hauled out.

We got lucky in one respect. Most pangas are white with blue trim and have little registration numbers at their bows. This guy was driving one of two yellow pangas at the marina and the whole side was painted with the company’s web address. Before the guy even made it to the beach, Maryanne had already fired off an email to his boss.

As soon as the business opened a couple of hours later, we received a response. They apologized and promised to pay for any repairs as soon as they could be made. The marina also immediately shuffled away another boat and moved us a little further away from the Pangas (but still really close to their exit line) - at least we'd be further from both the bottleneck and the worst of the current.

By the end of the day the fleet manager and a representative from their insurance company had all come to look at the damage and reassure us that they would get us fixed as soon as possible. The marina recommended a good fiberglass guy, which many other boaters seconded. Introductions were made and he said he could start work the next day. A haulout wouldn’t be necessary, he just needed the use of our dinghy for access. Brilliant!

All of this was happening as a layer on top of everything we were originally planning to do. Maryanne started hiking all over town running errands, which she finished with a cab ride back. I decided to pre-dismantle our port transmission in anticipation of receiving the replacement parts. Our backup computer screen had recently failed, and although Maryanne managed to fix it with spares we had on board, the fix only lasted two days before the screen totally gave out - so she was back and forth with a repair center too.

In the morning, a woman from the insurance company came by and gave me half of the repair estimate in cash from her purse. Maryanne found a rental car for $4US and she was gone! She had a car for 36 hours for less than the cost of a cab ride to the store. Every couple of hours, I would get a text from Maryanne telling me to meet her in the parking lot with a couple of dock carts. We’d get the stuff on the boat and she’d be gone again for more.

Several times a day, I saw pangas get caught in the current, hit the throttle and then miss Begonia by inches. A couple of them going the other way actually hit other pangas on the way in. Oh, I was liking our spot less and less. When Rafael, the fiberglass guy started working, he was right in the line of fire. At least he was at eye level with them and was able to give them the local Spanish version of, “Hey, I’m working here!”

Once I had the transmission apart and in pieces on the salon table, I realized it wasn’t as broken as I had thought. I carefully reconstructed all of the bits of broken metal I had fished out of the transmission until I was sure there were no stray chunks to jam anything up. From the look of it, I was pretty sure I could repair it with what we had aboard. Not only that, but it looked like it would be much stouter than the original design. I decided to give it a go.

Maryanne came home from her last (of the day) store run and we only had minutes to dump everything inside before heading to our first cruising club get-together: dollar microbrews. We met lots of the other boaters and were able to get and give some good tips about various destinations and aspects of the life. It wasn’t until late in the evening that I finally had time to tell Maryanne that Rafael had finished the whole repair plus another couple of jobs I added in for him. All that was left was the final polish. I also had the pleasure of telling her that the port transmission was completely fixed, tested and verified. Begonia was back to the way she was before the thing failed. {Maryanne: Despite the constant stream of jobs, we've managed to socialise and relax in the the evenings. Additionally our visit to La Paz fortuitously coincided with the annual cruiser organized Boat Festival. So we've bee wine tasting, eating out with other cruisers we may well see in the Marquesas, and I've even attended a few seminars - Mexican cooking and Pressure Cookers. While the preparation for departure, and extensive job lists seems overwhelming at time, we have not been all work at all.}.

We also got another treat: The boat has a name! Of course Begonia has a name, but the decal is in a hard to read font and it’s almost always hidden behind the dinghy where nobody can see it. We had a sign guy come and now we have the name in big, clear letters on each side. That’s something we’re glad to have that we have been putting off for way too long.

On Maryanne’s second day with the car, I got to join her for her trips around town. I’m really grateful to her for doing it, because it is not my thing. Transmission repair isn’t either, but provisioning seems to be a perfect storm of many bad things: spending lots of money, carrying a lot of heavy stuff and bringing it aboard, where it weighs us down and takes up space we never seem to have. Add to that México’s penchant for controlling busy intersections with chaotic four-way stops and you have a recipe for a stressful day.

The only bright spot, and a really bright one at that, was our lunchtime stop at what is reputedly not only the best taco place in La Paz, but in all of Baha, Taco Fish. It was wonderful. It was clean. The staff was really friendly. The tacos were delicious and we filled up for $6US.

We decided to divide and conquer for the rest of the day. Maryanne left me at home to stow and be there in case Rafael needed anything. She headed back to the stores.

Prepping the dingy for life-boat mode, our new boat-graphics, working on the mass of paperwork required both to exit Mexico and arrive in the Marquesas (along with setting up a new computer and printer), and a time for fun at a Mexican cooking demo

When she got back, we found a place for everything as best we could. Begonia is so heavy. Since we’ve provisioned enough of some items to last us for eight or nine months, including everything non-perishable that we will need for at least two, the interior of the boat is even fuller than it was when we left Panamá. The water, propane and diesel is also tippity-top. We’re sitting three inches lower in the water than when we got here.

Even though we were both exhausted from all of the jobs, we were determined to act like we were on holiday on the walk home from returning the car. We found a Greek restaurant with good reviews and decided to head there for dinner. On the way, we passed by a Spanish place (Sitges) with no obvious clientele, but a nice-looking menu. We decided to give it a try and we are so glad we did. We were led to a table in a hidden courtyard by a roaring fireplace, where we were brought item after item of exquisite deliciousness. It was a bit more than Taco Fish, but it was a happy find all the same. We topped it off with ice creams and had an amble home along the malecón. There’s more work to be done, but it was nice to finally be able to take a break and enjoy ourselves for a couple of hours, especially knowing Begonia’s fully functional again.

Balandra - Waiting to Enter La Paz

[Kyle]After spending our first day at anchor being responsible to our pressing chores, and on the internet we achieved what would have taken fifteen minutes with a decent connection, and decided we could not face another day of staring at the “Wheel of Death” while waving our phones over our heads hoping for just one more bar of signal.

We dropped the dinghy for a tour of beautiful Balandra Bay. Surrounded by huge, crumbling walls of conglomerate, it didn’t look uniform enough to have been laid down as seabed, but instead like a pyroclastic layer that was the result of some massive volcanic calamity. Softer, weaker sections had fallen away, leaving lots of sea caves fronted by giant boulders, and between these areas again were dunes and sandy beaches.

Lovely weather to explore and way less frustrating than the internet!
The tourist view was completely hidden from our view at anchor

Deeper into the bay, the white sand of the bottom rose up to meet us. We slowed the motor way down so that if we touched bottom with it the propeller would just bump, bump, bump into the sand without hurting anything. (One of the nice things about having an electric motor is that there is no minimum idle speed, so we can slow it way down to where the prop is turning at just a few rpm, dramatically reducing the chance that it will be damaged if it strikes something unexpected.).

When we finally did touch bottom, we had maybe half of the bay still between the beach and us. We lifted the motor, I jumped over the side, grabbed the painter and towed the boat towards shore without even getting my shorts wet. When it got to ankle depth, Maryanne got out and helped. We were still 100 meters from the beach when the unladen dinghy grounded. We threw out the anchor and waded in without it.

Heading towards the promise of food!

What a great beach! The sand is as soft as sugar and almost the same color. The shallow water is heated by the sun and takes a long distance to get deep, making it the perfect wading pool where parents can let their kids wander anywhere within shouting range and not have to worry.

We walked to the snack shack in the corner of the parking lot, where we bought a smoked marlin burrito, a chicken tamale and an iced cold Coke for 100 pesos; that kept us going for the rest of our circuit. We walked the dinghy over to the next beach for the obligatory pictures of El Hongo – The Mushroom – a big rock on a narrow pillar left by erosion. There’s actually a lot of these around, but this one is famous, probably because of its accessibility to La Paz. Actually, it’s a bit of a fake. Vandals broke it off a while ago (It probably would have fallen over soon anyway), but it’s since been restored with a crane and some concrete.

And on to El Hongo!

Beyond El Hongo, the water became deep enough again for us to need the dinghy. We climbed back in and took a tour of the rocks and tide pools where the Balandra meets with larger La Paz Bay.

Poking around

Back at the boat - Kyle does one last chore up the mast

We had one more night of forecast strong Coromuel winds before the arrival of a strong Norther. That would likely turn Balandra into a dangerous, frothing mess. Once the wind died down with the arrival of morning, we pulled up anchor and headed south to Caleta Lobos, just a mile or so away. Caleta Lobos is well protected from three sides and seems to be a safe place to wait out the blow. When we arrived, it was just us and one other boat way in the other corner. By late afternoon, most of the other boats that had been anchored with us in Balandra showed up and started staking out their spots. It was a shame we had to leave. Caleta Lobos is not nearly as pretty as Balandra. The hills are soft and brown and covered uniformly with brown brush, making the whole area look like dried-up piles of dirt. There is just a bit of marshland tucked way up in the shallows. That and the guano on the nearby islands makes for a lot of bobos – those annoying little flies that seem to exist solely to drive people insane. The good thing is that there is a very slightly better cell phone signal. That and all of the power from the sun and wind will pretty much dictate the nature of our stay.

So, in the meantime, we attempt to be responsible and prepare ourselves with planning and research ready for both our stay in La Paz and pending passages beyond.

We have a reservation at a Marina in La Paz for the 27th March and it seems we were lucky to get that since there is a festival on in town.. Once we make it there, we will be full steam ahead in 'work' mode, but still hope for some fun along the way.