Finale and Intro

This is indeed the end of the Voyage of Laelia - at least it is the end of my voyage with her. The paperwork is done and Laelia is now owned by a young couple who seem delighted with her. They hope to go cruising with their two young children. They have wisely decided to take a couple of years to get used to Laelia and modify her to their tastes before setting out.

The end of one chapter leads to the beginning of the next. I was able to make a deal to purchase my next boat, Ayala. Where will this lead? Who knows? Whatever it is, you will be able to read about it on the new blog at VoyageOfAyala.BlogSpot.com (of course).

Post script - and a new voyage?

It has been just short of four months since I sailed under the Golden Gate Bridge inbound for Alameda. The end of the Voyage of Laelia. I was ready to put it all behind me and settle down to a quiet suburban life. They call that "swallowing the anchor" in the sailing world.

The first order of business was to get Laelia in shape to sell. That meant unloading everything from the boat, giving the interior a big clean up and fixing up the bright work on deck. It was in pretty disgraceful shape after two years of neglect - and several months of that time on the edge of the Tropic of Cancer with the sun nearly overhead. See the sad results at right.

I did some reading up on how to varnish bright work and started in. It meant stripping all the existing varnish. I did it by sanding it off. I wouldn't it that way again. It takes off too much good wood along with the varnish.

Before I could actually start varnishing, I had to decide on whether to varnish or use a product called Cetol. Entire religious wars are fought over which is the better way to go. I came down on the side of varnish - based mostly on the fact that it gives teak a deep, reddish tone to the teak compared to the yellowish hue of Cetol. The down side to varnish is that it takes more coats and it doesn't last quite as well as Cetol. To me, the appearance is worth the extra work.

The first two coats of varnish were 50% thinner so the varnish would soak into the wood. The next one was 75% varnish and the final three were undiluted varnish. I used a brand called Epiphanes - high gloss. My next door neighbors in the marina highly recommended it. After looking at their bright work, I agreed that it looked mighty fine and that's what I used.

The picture to the left shows the difference between bare teak and varnished.

Getting all the varnish applied turned into a bit of a drawn out process. I could only stay on the boat three nights in any seven day period. The rules laid down by the marina and BCDC (Bay Conservation and Development Commission (I think)) restrict the number of live aboard slips to no more than 10% of the slips. Three nights aboard translated to three days of work. I quickly discovered that getting back to the boat after shore life took a bit of adjustment. I would arrive at the boat mid-afternoon, start soaking up the marina ambiance, have a glass of wine, visit with my neighbors and generally get nothing done. The work started the next morning.

I found that I could coat the toe rail, cockpit trim, cabin top trim and either the anchor platform or the stern rail in one day. I had to start each day by lightly sanding the previous coat, cleaning up the dust and then actually putting on varnish. The actual application had to take place between 11 AM and 4 PM when it was sunny and warm enough to get the varnish to set before it got cool and damp. Otherwise, the varnish would turn cloudy and have to be sanded off before the next coat was applied.

As I was doing this, I experienced "mission creep." I looked at the beautiful toe rails and cockpit trim and decided that the wash boards in the companionway and the trim around the companionway would have to be stripped and varnished because they would look so ratty next to the new varnish. Sure enough, they looked great after stripping and varnishing. But then when I was sitting below, I noticed that the binocular holder next to the companionway looked pretty drab so it had to be added to the project as well as the magazine rack and book rack that were bare teak. And so it goes...

I had six or more coats on all but the starboard toe rail (four coats) and some miscellaneous pieces (two coats) when I ran out of time. The days were cooling down and daylight was so short that the varnish was not set up well enough to be sanded the next morning for another coat.

But enough was done that I was getting a steady stream of compliments from bypassers. More importantly, it was getting rave reviews from prospective buyers. As soon as I had at least two coats on the major portions of the bright work, I listed Laelia for sale. It was painful to realize how much I had spent buying her fixing her up and how little I was going to get back.

For a long while, it seemed that all I was getting was people looking at the boat, saying nice things about her and then moving on. But the day finally came when I got a serious offer. After some negotiation, a trial sale and a survey (comparable to a home inspection), the deal was closed.

During all this, I was living with Judy in her house in Citrus Heights (suburban Sacramento) trying to help with getting settled into the new place and trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life. I was coming up empty. I bought some pieces of gear to put up an antenna for my ham rig hoping to get back on the air and start supporting the Pacific Seafarer's Net from the land side. The project lagged for lack of money and lack of time. There always seems to be something that the house needs and it was much less satisfying to me than working on a boat. Beyond the ham radio activity, I could not think of anything I could get excited about in my life.

Judy and I seemed to go up and down. I felt like I had very little control over my life living in her house more or less earning my board and room by working on fixing up the house. Judy doesn't like the house and wants to sell in the Spring. But where do we go from there? Attempts at coming to some agreement seemed to go nowhere.

Still, we did get away a couple of times for short vacations - two days in Gualala on the Northern California coast and three days in Ashland, Oregon. It was good to get away from the demands of the house and have time just for the two of us. We enjoyed some good food, good wine and time to talk and snuggle - and more...

Last weekend, after getting the offer for Laelia, I went back to the boat to get my personal gear off the boat and to take the prospective buyers for a sea trial. When I got to the marina, I just stood in the parking lot for a while looking, listening, smelling, soaking up the ambiance. I realized that by far the most times I had felt good since my return were the times I spent on the boat. I couldn't swallow the anchor - it got caught on my heart trying to go down.

What to do? Back out of the sale? No - not a good idea. Regardless of where I was going from there, Laelia and I had reached the end of our voyage together. She was no longer the boat that I would need.

That evening, I started leafing through the classified ads at the back of Latitude 38 - the most popular sailing publication on the west coast. Lo and behold, there was an ad for a boat that I had fallen in lust with when I was living in West Point Marina in Redwood City. She is a Tayana 37 cutter named Ayala. She is beautiful - graceful lines, teak deck and trim. She was designed by Robert Perry who does not seem to know how to design an ugly boat or a slow boat.

I spotted this advertisement early in the evening. Tired out by the day's activities and the emotional stress, I turned out the lights early and went to sleep. When I woke up, it was still relatively early and I was obsessed with thoughts of Ayala. I called the owner. He informed me that he already had an offer and that she would be at the Boatyard at the Grand Marina to be hauled out for survey on Monday morning at 10 AM. Laelia was scheduled for haul out at the same boat yard at noon. He invited me to drop by and look at the boat in case the buyer decided not to go on with the sale.

On Sunday evening, it occurred to me that Ayala would probably be in a slip by the boat yard that evening in order to be ready for her 10 AM appointment. Sure enough, when I walked over to the boat yard, Ayala had just pulled in. The prospective buyer was enthusiastic about her and invited me to come aboard to look around.

Below decks, Ayala is not just beautiful, she is elegant. The joinery work (built in furniture) is all mahogany with teak trim. Fittings are heavy duty. There are lots of lockers and drawers for storage. The layout is everything I could hope for in a 37 foot boat. After a short look around, I left feeling heart sick.

Monday came. I went for the sea trial with Laelia's buyer and then headed for the boat yard to have her hauled out. Ayala was just heading for the lift - two hours late due to boat yard scheduling problems. I got to meet the boat owner and told him how much I liked the boat. Ayala hadn't been out of the water more than about 15 minutes before the owner came to Laelia and told me that the buyer had gotten cold feet. There were some problems with the boat and he was a first time buyer who didn't want to deal with problems.

I couldn't help myself. I made an offer. The owner liked the offer. He invited me to spend as much time as I wanted looking through the boat. She would be in a slip on the dock adjacent to Laelia's slip. The next day, I did spend several hours looking all through the boat. I can see some problems. She's bordering on being a project boat. Translation: she needs work. She appears basically sound but hasn't been kept up. The bright work needs attention. (I can do that!). The interior need cleaning, painting and varnishing. (I can do that!) The owner offered to share the survey he had had done when he bought the boat three years ago. More problems - but nothing I couldn't deal with given time and money. It would mean going back to work again for 12 - 18 months to get her in shape. Still, I was hooked.

The obvious problem is that Judy would be adamantly opposed to my having another boat. At the same time, it had become clear to me that owning and sailing a boat was important to me. Not only did I need a boat as a way to be back on the water, I needed a place to retreat to from the seeming constant low level tension between us. We had talked in the past about having a boat and living close enough to it that I (we) could spend time on it so I had hopes that we could work something out between us.

Judy was MOST unhappy with the idea when we discussed it this afternoon. After about 15 minutes of discussion, she announced that we were not dwelling on the same plane and I had 24 hours to get my stuff out of the house. I can't say that I am surprised or that I blame her. I have started packing. I have a small moving van scheduled for tomorrow and a storage space in Alameda near the marina. It is not a sure thing that the deal with Ayala will work out but it is clear that I will find a boat soon and go back to boat life.

I suppose I am mostly numb right now - I don't feel a lot about it. There is so very much more but I'm at a loss for words. I can't see a life for myself doing what I've been doing the last few months since I got back. We seem to be tugging in opposite directions with the result that it feels to me like we are stuck. I wish it could be worked out so we stay together but it doesn't seem very likely. I haven't given up hope entirely.

So... The voyage with Laelia is over but perhaps other voyages may be ahead. What, if anything, will be happening with Judy? Back to work? Live aboard in the SF Bay area? Move to San Diego? Back to Mexico? On to the South Pacific? Maybe it will the Voyage of Ayala. Stay tuned...

Cabo San Lucas to Alameda

Sadly, I have no pictures from this part of my journey. My camera malfunctioned and the memory chip with the few picture I took was corrupted. Not a huge loss – the sea looked pretty much the same from one day to the next!

Departing Mexico is not quite like departing the USA. If I had any hope of ever returning to Mexico, I needed a document called a “zarpe.” This is a document that says I have discharged all my debts in Mexico and I have permission to depart. Despite warnings about the difficulty of obtaining said document, it turned out to be fairly straight forward.

First, I went to the Cabo San Lucas Port Captain's office about 5 blocks from the marina. The Port Captain informed me that I needed to go to Immigration first. That turned out to be about 7 blocks back in the direction I had just come from. Though it was only a little after 9 AM, it was already fairly hot and sticky. The air conditioning was broken at Immigration.

It required about an hour and two trips to the counter to complete the formalities. On the first trip to the counter, I launched into my request in English. The agent listened to me and teasingly replied “You aren't even going to try speaking Spanish?” I fumbled through an apology which he brushed aside and proceeded to tell me in excellent English what form I needed to fill out.

I took the form and retreated to another nearby counter. The form was, of course, in Spanish. I spent the next 20 minutes or so consulting my Spanish – English dictionary and filling out the form. The second trip to the agent's window rewarded me with the necessary papers.

The first order of business after that was to stop at a convenience store and buy a bottle of water. It was quickly turning into a hot, sticky Cabo day. At the Port Captain's office, the Port Captain scanned my paperwork, turned to an assistant, issued rapid instructions and shortly afterward, asked me how I wanted to pay for the zarpe. If I wanted to pay cash, I would have to go the Bancomer office just across the street from Immigration, pay them and return with a receipt. If, however, I wanted to pay with a credit card, I could do that right here in the office. I handed over my credit card and then waited for another 20 minutes while the credit card transaction was processed.

Zarpe in hand, I returned to the marina area. The plan was to start sailing as soon as I got back to the boat but knowing that I was going to have to eat my own cooking for the next 30 or so days, I stopped at Alexander Restaurant on the edge of the marina. After consuming a beer and a burrito, I headed back to the boat.

Shortly after noon, July 16, I started up the engine, cast off from the dock and departed the marina. There was a comfortable 10 kt breeze blowing out of the northwest. I got the sails up, cut the engine and spent the next hour dodging Cabo tourists on jet skis, kite sailing, etc until I was past Los Arcos and point of land known as Cabo San Lucas.

The plan was to head out toward Hawaii, keep the North Pacific high to starboard and sail the whole trip on, at worst, a beam reach (wind coming from the side) or downwind. If I were to follow that plan, I would have been sailing mostly South once I cleared the cape. The wind and seas were moderate so I elected to sail close hauled (as close to upwind as possible) and wait for the wind to shift.

I ended up sailing almost the whole trip close hauled. Conditions were fairly mild for most of the trip. Winds were 5 – 10 knots most of the time. The worst was a 48 hour period of winds 15 – 20 knots. The North Pacific High was so poorly defined that I would have had to sail almost as far as Hawaii before turning toward California. I was too eager to get home to consider that option seriously.

Let me try to describe what it is like to sail close hauled on the open ocean. The first thing to remember is that the open ocean almost always has one or more swells running. A swell is just another name for waves of roughly the same height coming from some direction with monotonous regularity. On the average, the dominate swell was 3 – 6 feet from trough to peak. They are well enough spaced that they wouldn't be a problem except that there is rarely only one swell running. Careful observation of the wave patterns will normally show swells from two or three directions simultaneously. When two waves coincide, they interact. If the crests match up, they are additive – yep, the crest is higher than either of the swells individually. The same goes for the trough. Since the pattern of matching crests and troughs is irregular, the sea surface becomes “lumpy,” for lack of a more precise technical term.

Intermittently, the matching peaks will form a breaking wave. This becomes more pronounced as the wind picks up. “Whitecaps” is the technical term for these breaking waves. Observed from a distance, they are innocuous. When they happen to break against the side of the boat, they are somewhat more dramatic. If I happened to be below, the sound was rather like being on the inside of a bass drum smitten by a giant with a humongous drumstick. If the wave broke at just the right time and it was tall enough, it would bury the bow under a ton or so of water. I could feel Laelia stagger, rise to the next wave and continue on. I could hear water running down the deck along side the cabin for 15 – 20 seconds following the break.

On the other hand, when the troughs would coincide, Laelia would launch herself from the preceding crest, fall into the trough and slam into the oncoming wave. At times the collision with the oncoming wave was downright brutal. It felt like she would come to a full stop. The collisions were sharp enough that the sliding hatch over the companionway ladder would slide forward an inch or so.

Fortunately, these were the extremes. For most of the 31 days from Cabo to Alameda, the boat motion was not violent. Most often, Laelia was heeled over 10 to 15 degrees and going up and down about three feet at a time. That meant that I was always hanging onto something to keep my balance.

Cooking under these conditions was something less than fun. The stove is on gimbals so it stays level when the boat heels side to side. When she pitches (front to back), the stove does not stay level. Most of the time this is not a problem. The stove has pot rails that help keep the pots from sliding about. I never did have a pot spill its contents – much to my amazement. Nevertheless, cooking was enough of a chore that I didn't fix anything fancy. By the end of the trip, I was thoroughly sick of my own cooking! Too simple and too monotonous! Most of the ingredients came from cans. I did my best to be creative in my use of spices. Especially toward the end of the trip, I was craving anything with strong flavors. Dill pickles and pepperoncinis were among my favorites.

On the day before last coming into SF Bay, I knew I would be too busy to cook so I made “Three Can Stew.” Recipe: ½ cup of rice, 1 ½ cups of water. Bring to a boil for about 10 minutes until rice is the desired consistency. Add one can of corn, one can of black beans and one can of diced tomatoes. Stir and leave under low heat for another five minutes. By this time in the trip my craving for something other than “bland” led me to add about ½ jar of pepperoncinis. It helped. For the next two days, the Three Can Stew was what I lived on.

Lest you think that the trip involved heroic battles against wind and waves, sail changes in howling winds and other extreme measures, let me set your mind at rest. Early in the trip, I noticed that the wind strength changed often enough that I would be changing sails several times a day if I tried to fly the optimum sail at all times. I elected to put up the working jib – a moderate sized jib – and never change it. It worked well. There were a few times when the wind dropped that I thought briefly (very briefly) about changing sails but managed to restrain myself. I tacked twice the first day out of Cabo and then hardly touched a sheet for the next 15 days.

My strategy evolved from trying to do a downwind trip to a decision to stay on the same tack until I was on the same longitude as the Golden Gate 122 degrees, 35 minutes, i.e. directly South of the Golden Gate. After that, I would sail on the tack that came the closest to a direct course to the Gate. See the resulting track on the tracking site at

https://share.delorme.com/RalphLewis#

There were a few times when the result of tacking netted only a few miles toward San Francisco in a 24 hour period. To say the least, it was frustrating. I estimate that most days, I sailed 75 to 100 miles but gained maybe 50 miles toward my destination. During this time, the wind was consistently from somewhere between northwest and north. It wasn't until the morning of the last day that the wind shifted to the south and allowed me to sail directly toward the Golden Gate.

A typical day at sea started off with fixing breakfast – usually oatmeal with something in it to give it some flavor. This was essential to keep me “regular.” The rest of the day, I read. By the time the trip was over, I had read 1½ shopping bags of paperback books – mostly science fiction, spy thrillers and mystery novels. I did most of my reading sitting or lying on my bunk. Occasionally, if the weather was nice and there wasn't too much spray flying about, I would sit in the cockpit behind the steering wheel and read. Every hour or so, I would check weather and sails. At noon every day, I would turn on my handheld GPS unit and get my current position. I posted the position, distance sailed and distance remaining on my Delorme tracking page. At 5 PM each day, I would set the telltale on the barometer to the current barometer setting. At 8:30 PM, I would check in with the Pacific Seafarer's Network on 14.200 Mhz via the ham radio setup that Terry Hoffart had provided. Sometime shortly before or after the report, I would fix dinner. Then I slept. Most nights, I set an alarm for two hour intervals. When it went off, I would check to see that I was on course, weather was OK and the sails were properly trimmed. Occasionally, I would have to tack. I reefed the main only twice on the whole trip. I spent a total of about eight hour hove to (parked – sorta) when the wind picked up into the 20 kt range. That was my trip – not too exciting. Twice during the trip, the AIS warned me that a ship might pass within a mile of me. Neither of them actually came that close.

For additional entertainment, I had music on my iPhone. As I got up toward Southern California, I could sometimes hear FM radio stations. On a good day, I could hear a classical station. Other days, all I got were obnoxious commercial stations that played commercials for 10 minutes at a time. I turned them off!

I saw relatively little sea life. Several times, dolphins played around the boat – mostly in the last few days as I approached San Francisco. One time, the dolphins were accompanied by several seals. One time, I saw two fins close to the boat that were triangular shape much like Orca fins but way too small to be an Orca. Sharks? I never did see their bodies.

The first two days out of Cabo were quite warm. After that, the air cooled to comfortable sweatshirt weather. The last two weeks, I wore my foul weather gear most of the time after dark - for warmth.

On August 15^th, I sighted land for the first time in almost 30 days. I could see Pilar Point, just north of Half Moon Bay. With a light breeze out of the south, I covered the last 90 miles to the Golden Gate. At first, I thought the breeze would not hold to get me home that day, but my luck held. At about 4:30 PM PDT, I sailed under the Golden Gate Bridge.

It is hard to describe the feeling as I looked up at the bridge. There were numerous times during the trip when I was haunted by the feeling that I would not finish the trip – I would be run down by a big ship or fall overboard or meet with some other catastrophe that would end my trip and my life. But here I was, home at last. If I hadn't been so busy trying to keep out of the way of shipping, I would have been jumping up and down, screaming with delight. Home at last!

Well, almost. There was the matter of clearing Customs since my last port of call was outside the USA. I had no idea how I was to do that. I contacted the Coast Guard on marine VHF. They referred me to Vessel Traffic Service (VTS) on a different channel. VTS gave me a phone number to call. That number referred me to another number. Eventually, I talked to a person who seemed to think that what I wanted was MOST unusual and, by the way, did I have a Crusing Permit. I have never heard of such a thing. The person took some information and told me to come to Jack London Square. I was to call them to come to the boat and inspect it.

The trip from the Golden Gate down the San Francisco waterfront was exhilarating to say the least. The wind was blowing 15 knots from almost directly behind me. Laelia tore along at close to six knots for most of the distance from the Gate to the Oakland Bay Bridge. A few miles beyond the Bay Bridge, I dropped the sails and motored on up the Oakland Inner Harbor to Jack London Square. By now, it was a little after 6 PM. There was no one at the dock to take a line so I jumped off the boat, line in hand, and came close to falling flat on my face. The dock was not going up and down like my inner ear expected. I managed to get tied up without looking like I was anything worse than mildly intoxicated.

My call to Customs ended up at an automated announcement that the counter was closed and if this was a small boat arrival, I should leave a message and they would call me back. I was admonished that I MUST speak to an officer! I left a message and called back at 15 minute intervals for the next hour. The final call got me to a live person. She took some information and promised to call back shortly. True to her word, she called back about 5 minutes later and told me I was cleared and could proceed on to my destination.

By now, it was 7:30. I stayed at the dock long enough to check in the the Pacific Seafarer's Network and let them know that I had arrived.

It took another 15 minutes under power to reach Grand Marina. Judy had made arrangements with the them earlier and I had been assigned slip A32. I had no trouble finding the A dock but there were no visible markings to tell me which was slip 32. I motored along until I found an empty slip and started to pull in. Someone on a nearby boat came to help me get tied up. I asked if this was slip A32. Nope. It was A46. I backed out, resumed motoring along the dock, counting slips as I went. The one that looked like it should be A32 was vacant. Again, people appeared out of the dark to help me tie up. I had to wait for someone to come move a dinghy from the slip, then I was in and tied up. Diana and Bob on the trawler in the adjacent slip welcomed me home. We talked about the trip for a while, then retired to our respective boats.

I was tired, but even more, I wanted a shower! Since I had arrived outside office hours, I couldn't get a gate key to get me into the shower. I spend the next 15 minutes digging all the things out of Laelia's shower that I had stored there for the duration of the trip. Since I had been running the engine, there was plenty of hot water for my first shower in five weeks. What a wonderful feeling!

A glass of wine and a bit of the rest of my Three Can Stew and I was ready to crash. Judy would be there in the morning to pick me up. I slept. Soundly. I did not wake up to check sails or weather. It was heavenly!

San Jose to Cabo San Lucas and Beyond

Sunday, 13 July 2014

Marina del Puerto Cabo near San Jose del Cabo is a beautiful facility but I was happy to leave. Every night, the wind fell off to nothing with the temperature hovering in the low to mid eighties. Hordes of mosquitoes buzzed about and feasted on my tender skin. The last night there was the worst. A little after midnight, I gave up trying to sleep either in the cockpit or in the cabin. They were about equally miserable. I gathered my shower gear and trudged off to the shower house in the hope that a cool shower would get me comfortable enough to head off to dreamland.

My keycard would not open the door to the shower house. It had been reluctant to do so in the past but in the end, it would give in and do its magic. Not tonight. I stood at the door for a full five minutes waving the card over the sensor at various speeds and angles – to no avail. Back to the boat I went, grumbling and still miserable, hot and sticky.

I think I finally fell asleep about 2 AM. I awoke a little after 7 AM feeling every bit as bad as I felt the other two mornings. In addition, my fingers were stiff and swollen. Who knows why? I don’t.

Monday, 14 July 2014

I dragged myself the mile around the perimeter of the yacht basin to the cantina adjacent the marina office. A glass of fresh orange juice (squeezed before my very eyes), coffee and a Mexican egg and potato burrito did a lot to improve my morale and wake me up.

I checked out at the marina office and mentioned that my key card hadn’t worked last night. They young woman I was talking to got a funny expression on her face that, combined with some remarks when I checked in, made me think that she had put the wrong expiration date into the system. Oh well! Nothing to be done about it.

Back at the boat, I cleaned up the dishes that had been languishing in the sink for the last couple of days then backed out of my slip. There was a light breeze blowing from just about the right direction for a change. I motored clear of the harbor, put up the sails and shut down the engine. Blessed silence and a cool breeze combined to make this a promising start.

The promise held through the day. The wind got light enough for a while that I had to hand steer but it kept coming from a favorable direction. As I drew near to Cabo San Lucas harbor, thunderheads were developing over the peninsula making me a bit nervous. The wind picked up a bit but held from the south-south-east. The breeze was coming in off the open Pacific Ocean and it was … COOL. I had been hoping for this – hoping that I would be able to sleep nights in my cool, comfortable bunk.

I sailed as close as I dared to the harbor entrance and started dropping sails. As close as I dared was not all that close. The beaches off Cabo were abuzz with parasailors, jet skis and glass bottom tour boats. I did not want to have to dodge them at the same time I was dropping sails, so I started a bit early. The thunderhead sent along just enough wind to make stowing the mizzen and the main a bit of a challenge. Then it just kind of evaporated and left me with only a gentle breeze as I was dropping the genoa jib.

Motoring into Cabo San Lucas harbor is an exercise in culture shock after spending time in La Paz and San Jose del Cabo. The harbor is jammed full of high end sport fishing boats. The harbor is ringed with shops and hotels. There are crowds!

Most disturbing of all – it was HOT! My hopes for a pleasant evening were fading fast. I got tied up at my assigned slip and walked about two blocks around the perimeter of the harbor to the marina office. The sidewalk was jammed with tourists – beautiful people on vacation and on parade. By the time I got to the marina office, I was dripping with sweat and feeling rather dispirited. At least the marina office was air conditioned. The gentleman who checked me in was courteous and efficient. It took no more than 15 minutes for the whole process. As part of the check in procedure, I was given an information sheet to fill out. I was dripping sweat so heavily that it was quite soggy by the time I handed it back.

Back out on the sidewalk, I decided to look for a place to eat – if there was something in my limited budget price range. One young man practically grabbed me by the shirt front as I walked by and began to extol the virtues of his restaurant. After looking over the menu and being informed that they had 2 for 1 beer prices at the moment, I decided this was good enough. On top of that, I got to sit in a partially air conditioned place. Helped by the two beers, a bottle of water and my dinner, I gradually cooled down. By the time I emerged from the restaurant and resumed by journey to the boat, the breeze coming over the hill from the Pacific was feeling almost cool.

Back at the boat, I was further encouraged. Not only was the breeze coolish, but it was blowing right into the cabin through the companionway and hatch. It was still pretty stuffy. I really would like to have taken a nap but it wasn’t cool enough for that yet. I picked up my current book and a cushion, found a shady spot on deck and proceeded to read for a while.

My slip is an end tie – meaning that it is at the end of the pier and I am, in effect, hanging out into the thoroughfare with an excellent view of the passing traffic. It was a constant stream of glass bottomed boats, other boats pulling strings of jet skis (apparently it was closing time for some of the rental facilities) and, of course, fishing boats. I got a lot of smiles and friendly waves from the bypassers.

The cabin is gradually cooling down. Already it is better than the best night in San Jose del Cabo. I can hope for a restful night. But hark! What do I hear? Oh yeah, loud music from at least one of the commercial establishments across the harbor. Somehow, I don’t think it will keep me awake for long.

I’ve done some online searches for grocery stores and found a couple of super market sized stores that look close enough that I can walk to them. I will probably have to get a taxi to bring stuff back to the boat. We shall see how that all works out tomorrow.

Tuesday, 15 July 2014

I went looking for the Mega supermarket this morning only to discover that it was nowhere near where it was shown on my Internet search. It was a good mile away from the expected location. After an hour’s shopping I left with four bags of groceries realizing that it would take roughly the rest of my life to lug them back to the boat. Apparently this happens fairly often at this store. There was a man stationed out front with a radio. In a matter of minutes there was a taxi waiting for me. That added seven dollars to my grocery bill but at least I have the groceries. Just lugging them the last two blocks to the boat was a painful experience.

By now, it was close to noon and the cabin interior was unpleasantly hot. I shifted some storage around and stowed most of the new items before fleeing the cabin. I still had a few items left to purchase. The map supplied by the marina showed a supermarket within a few blocks. I was pretty sure it would be a tourist trap kind of place – and I was right. AA batteries were $1 each. However, they did have Laura Scudder’s peanut butter. All I had been able to find so far in Mexico was Skippy’s which is not really peanut butter in my opinion.

I ended up paying a little over half as much for a partial bag of groceries at this place as I had paid for four bags at the Mega. I had the clerk put the groceries into my Target shopping bag and headed out the door. I hadn’t much more than gotten out the door when the straps on the bag broke. One of the three jars of peanut butter broke! Arrrgh!! I had other bags tucked inside the Target bag so I packed the remaining groceries into a new bag, notified the store clerks to come out and clean up the mess and started back to the boat.

It was still the hot part of the day and I was not looking forward to returning to the cabin. When another of the street hustlers informed me of the 2 for 1 beer at a sidewalk bar, I parked myself in the shade for the next hour and took my time drinking my two beers.

The cabin was still too hot for working so I picked up a book an planted myself on deck in the shade of the mainmast and dinghy where I read for the next hour. That was long enough for the breeze to cool the cabin to the point that I could take a short nap, then resume the job of preparing to start sailing.

Things are in pretty good shape at the moment. Tomorrow, I will be at the marina office at 9 AM to pay my bill. Then I go to the Port Captain’s office a few blocks away to start the process of getting my zarpe – my exit visa. I understand it involves visiting several offices separated by a few blocks so I don’t expect to get under way much before mid-afternoon.

If all goes well and I am under way tomorrow as planned, this will be my last blog post for the next 30 days or so. I will be sailing out toward Hawaii looking for winds that will let me get back to the SF Bay area without having to do much upwind sailing. I expect it to take 30 days plus or minus 10 days. I will, of course, be posting notices on Facebook via the inReach GPS tracker. You can also follow my progress by going to my inReach share page. Instructions are included in my bio on my blog.

Adios for now…

La Paz to San Jose del Cabo

I did get out of the marina in La Paz the day following my last post. Hopefully, those of you who are interested have been able to follow Laelia’s path on Facebook and on the tracking page at

https://share.delorme.com/RalphLewis

I spent two days at anchor getting things stowed in a good enough fashion that it would be safe to move the boat. The final stowing takes place when I get to Cabo San Lucas and I have final provisions aboard. I figured I didn’t have to do a terribly good job of stowing things since the passage down the Sea of Cortez would be a slow one with not much wind.

Hah!

The part about not much wind was mostly right. The exception was of interest – as you will see.

I poked away at the job rather half-heartedly. The weather was being typical La Paz August weather – hot (low 90s) and humid. Thunderstorms formed in the afternoon but mostly passed by without dropping any rain.

I ate my meals on deck in whatever shade I could find. The most interesting part of this was watching the pelicans at work. There were schools of small fish hanging around in the shade of the boat. The pelicans would soar overhead until they spotted a target. They would dive and, more often than not, come up with lunch struggling vainly to escape from the pelican’s beak.

Part of what made this interesting was the pelicans’ diving style. Some sea birds that get their food this way are quite graceful about it and hardly make a splash when they hit the water. Not the pelicans. Their style could be better described as a controlled crash with wings and legs still partially deployed. Several times in the two days at anchor in the harbor, they actually hit the side of the boat as they did the kamikaze routine.

I pulled up the anchor in La Paz Harbor mid-morning, Monday, 7 July 2014. I motored down the channel out of the harbor. When I had some maneuvering room, I put up sails. Not much wind so I had my lightweight MPG flying to make the most of the breaths of air.

In short order, the afternoon thunderstorm began to develop – as shown in this picture. Looks pretty ominous, eh? It hung around over La Paz for a while building in strength. I was hoping that it would move off to the south and leave me alone.

Fat chance!

The wind started picking up as the thunderstorm started decaying an moving my direction. I hastily stowed the MPG. It is only rated for winds of 10 knots max – about 11 mph. In short order, the wind was gusting in excess of 20 knots. It caught me with only the main and mizzen set – no jib. Laelia is not happy with that configuration. She becomes hard to keep on course. I spent most of the next half hour wrestling with her until the wind abated and I was able to set my #2 genoa – my second largest jib. For a while, the wind dropped down to almost nothing - of course.  

I had planned to anchor at Puerto Ballandra the first evening but when I got there, the wind and current were pushing me through Canal San Lorenzo (San Lorenzo Channel) at a pretty good rate. Since the channel is known to be difficult when wind and/or current are adverse, I chose to push on. This committed me to an all night sail to reach Bahia de Los Muertos (Bay of the Dead – nice inviting name!) I was feeling well rested and eager to get on with the trip so that was OK.

The next 24 hours were a mixture of nice sailing and frustratingly little wind. Around noon Tuesday, I was on the other side of the peninsula from La Paz. I could see the daily thunderstorm starting to build to starboard (to the right of the boat - see picture). To port was Isla Cerralvo – a largish, barren, island with a rocky spine reaching over 600 feet in several places. It soaks up the heat really well, then radiates it back into the air at a high rate – making it a really good generator of cumulonimbus clouds – thunderheads.

I was mostly watching the storm developing over La Paz. It looked pretty intense. The clouds over Isla Cerralvo looked pretty and puffy but weren’t doing much of anything. The thunderhead over La Paz started to decay dumping lots of water in the form of rain and it appeared to be moving my direction. I kept a close eye on it for a while until I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to do anything more than send a little wind in my direction giving me a nice downwind sail. I set the running pole to hold the corner of big jib out – making it kind of like the square sail on the old clipper ships.

About the time I got the pole set, there was a huge crash of thunder from the other direction – from Isla Cerralvo. I hadn’t been paying it much attention and it had transitioned from developing to decaying in a matter of minutes. That doesn’t sound particularly exciting unless you are aware that the decaying stage is the one where the wind, rain, hail, lightning and all the other phenomena associated with thunderstorms happens. In a matter of minutes, I was getting gusts of cold wind over 20 knots again along with heavy rain. With a lot of sail set, Laelia stood up remarkably well to all this but it was hard to keep her pointed in the right direction. This was becoming important since the wind was pushing me toward the coast – only about 3 miles off.

Remember the part about stowing things with the expectation that there would not be much wind? Well, this was where I started hearing crashing noises from below as Laelia heeled sharply and some of the poorly stowed items broke loose. I was, of course, too busy to do anything about it.

There were more crashes of thunder – this time from the direction of the La Paz storm. It wasn’t close enough to be dumping rain on me but there was a new development in that direction. Looking like something out of Wizard of Oz, there was a waterspout (tornado over water.) This had me a bit worried – to say the least. The next five or so minutes were pretty tense as I tried to figure out which direction the spout was moving and worked at keeping Laelia pointed as far away from land as possible. Slowly, it became apparent that the spout either was not moving or it was moving away from me. In another five minutes, it was gone. Phew!

But the fun wasn’t over yet. The cell with all the wind and rain passed only to be followed by another – smaller but packing enough wind and rain to be exciting. It too passed only to be followed by another, still smaller but exciting cell.

By now, I was soaking wet. At first the rain felt good. I had been cooking in the heat and humidity for several days with no opportunity for a shower. But not for long.

Remember that I mentioned that hot air rising off the ground is what feeds a developing thunderhead. That air goes up and up until it gets to an altitude where it cools and its moisture condenses into rain. As long as the thunderhead has a big enough supply of hot air, the moisture and the air stay trapped in the cloud. Part of what makes a thunderhead make the transition from developing to decaying is that the situation reaches a point where there is so much cold air and moisture in the cloud that it collapses. That is why the rain and wind that come out of a thunderhead are cool – or even cold. If the air gets cold enough, you get hail mixed with rain. But I digress…

There was enough cool air and rain falling on me that I was getting chilled. Between cells, I had managed to get the pole down and stowed out of the way and Laelia was charging along at a blazing 6.5 knots – pretty good for a sailboat of her size. The good news was that this put me close to my destination for that evening several hours earlier than I was projecting earlier in the day.

I made a beeline for Bahia de Los Muertos and anchored. By the time I dropped the anchor, the wind was all but gone. It was back to being hot and sticky. Mercifully, there was still some cloud cover until close to dark.

I got the sails stowed and retreated below to change into dry clothing. By now, I had been awake for about 36 hours with only a couple of 15 minute naps. I was both tired and wired. I pulled out my old friend Captain Morgan (rum) and indulged myself in a hefty shot. In a matter of minutes, I was out cold.

I slept for a little over two hours and awoke feeling confused and loggy. Gradually, it all came back to me and I realized that I was also very hungry. I treated myself to spaghetti and wine and went back to sleep.

When I decided to sail through the night, I also decided that I would spend a day resting to catch up. So, Wednesday was catching up day. I slept much of the day. I woke up several times for an hour or so, wandered around straightening up the mess I had left on deck and in the galley before going back to sleep. Nothing that broke loose during all the wind had broken or caused problems – much to my amazement.

 

 

 

For dinner, I was treated to another gorgeous Baja sunset.

 

 

 

Thursday, 10 July, I was awakened a little after 6 AM by the roar of departing fishermen in their pangas – open boats about 15’ long and usually powered by a BIG outboard. Some of them seemed to make a point of passing close enough to Laelia to make her rock pretty good. It did prompt me to get up, fixe breakfast and get under way again.

The next destination was Bahia los Frailes - Bay of the Friars. (I had stopped there on the way north and looked in vain for a KFC stand before I consulted my cruising guide and found that the Friars were Catholic priests, not chickens. ) Once again, the plan was to stop if that’s where I was when it was close to time to quit that evening.

By evening, I wasn’t even close. Winds ranged from non-existent to light. Progress was agonizingly slow. Before I started out from La Paz, I had decided that I would not use the engine unless I really needed to – like when I was entering or leaving a harbor. Laelia is, after all, a SAILboat. I thought it would be interesting to just take what came in the way of wind. I gotta tell you, it is a character building experience! Parts of it were idyllic – light breeze, very little wave action, blue water, blue skies, etc, etc. Interspersed with these  intervals were the ones where there was not enough wind to keep Laelia pointed in the right direction. Several time, I drifted in circles for an hour or more.

Night fell. The idyllic stretches were reinforced by the almost full Super Moon. The moon was at one of its closest approaches to Earth and looked even larger than usual. Several times, during the no wind portions of the night, I set my timer and slept for 30 minutes at a time. It isn’t much but it is enough to keep me going for a while.

Friday morning, I reached the point where I would turn to enter Bahia los Frailes well after sunrise. There was a good breeze blowing and I was not feeling all that bad about the loss of sleep. I elected to keep going with the idea of continuing on to San Jose del Cabo or, if things went really, really well, on to Cabo San Lucas.

The wind held until early afternoon. Even though this particular day had been relatively pleasant, it was still hot and sticky. With the boat moving well, the wind vane was doing most of the work and I could move around the boat into the shade – if and when it existed.

Even with the steady breeze, by noon it was apparent that I wouldn’t make it to Cabo San Lucas unless I was willing to sail until after dark. On the other hand, I could make it to San Jose del Cabo before the marina office closed. I could get a key to the shower room and wash away a week’s worth of sweat and grime. Then came a lull in the wind, I realized that if I didn’t keep my speed up, I wouldn’t get to San Jose del Cabo before the marina office closed – and I had set my heart on a long, cool shower and some sleep. I hadn’t had a shower since the previous Thursday in La Paz. I was doing my very best to stay upwind of myself at all times!

I gave in and started the engine. I motored for the next two hours, reaching San Jose del Cabo just as the office was closing. I had called ahead on the VHF radio to make sure there was a berth available. They assured me that there was, told me the slip number and said there would be someone waiting to help me dock. I had been to this marina on my way north in March but it is always nice to have someone ready to take a line to help with the docking.

When I motored through the channel into the marina, I heard someone whistle and spotted a man waving from the dock I was expecting to use. He helped me get tied up and informed me that the office was closing and I could register in the morning.

“Can I get a key to the shower house,” I enquired hopefully, my heart sinking at the prospect of having to stay hot, sticky and stinky for another night.

“No problem,” I was told. In fact, my assistant gave me a ride to the shower house and opened it for me so I could start my shower while he went to the office and got the key. He took my passport as hostage to make sure I would come register rather than leave with the key and without paying.

The shower was heavenly! I stood under it for probably 20 minutes just letting the cool water drop my internal temperature by what felt like 20 degrees. During that time, the assistant returned with my key and passed it over the top of the shower stall door.

I say shower stall but that doesn’t really do it justice. This marina is part of an upscale development that caters to people with a lot more money than I have. I could afford it only by taking a slip with no water or power. The shower building appears to be fairly new. The interior is all tiled with those large, elegant tiles that are so popular in Mexico. It was clean and in excellent condition. The only anomaly was that there was no hot water. Not that I wanted it to be hot – or even warm - but I had followed my usual procedure of turning on the hot water first, waiting for it to get hot then adjusting it to the desired temperature. I hadn’t waited for more than a few seconds before stepping into the wonderfully cool water but I was ready to make adjustments, as needed. “Hot” never happened. Even "Warm" didn't happen.

Walking back to the boat, I made a detour to a nearby convenience store where I picked up a can of Tecate beer and a medium sized Gatorade. Back at the boat, I sat in a patch of shade and drained them both – quickly. It felt good to let the light breeze cool me as I relaxed.

However, the situation was not all wonderful. Not only had Laelia been in the sun soaking up heat all day but also I had been running the engine for two hours. The engine puts out a lot of heat – some of which works its way into the main cabin. To say that it was stuffy was understatement. It was miserable. I felt like I was suffocating if I spent more than a couple of minutes below.

This makes it an agonizing experience to cook dinner. I did it by making quick sorties below to do something simple like put water in a pan, put it on the stove and light the stove. Then I would make a beeline for the cockpit where it was still hot but at least there was a bit of breeze.

Night came. It was time to go to bed but there was no question of using the bed. Thirty seconds of lying in the bunk had streams of sweat running down my arms. I laid out the flotation cushions in the cockpit and did my best to sleep there. There were a few problems. 1) It was still hot enough that I was sweating. 2) Across the adjacent road, there was a night spot of some description that played loud music until well after 2 AM. 3) MOSQUITOS. By morning, my legs and arms looked like I had a developing case of measles. Just as annoying was that some of them chose to buzz around my ears. It is hard – maybe impossible – to ignore the buzzing of a mosquito close to my ears. I was kept busy trying to swat the little pests.

Still, I did manage to sleep for a couple of hours at a time. Around 2 AM, I awoke feeling particularly miserable. I tried retreating to the cabin. It was almost bearable – but not quite. I headed back to the shower house for another shower thinking that it would feel good to cool off and hoping that I could wash away any scent from my shampoo that might be attracting the mosquitoes. I did feel cooler – and it seemed to reduce the number of blood suckers that came after me.

I slept briefly, awoke and tried my bunk again. It was just barely bearable. I read for a few minutes, then fell sound asleep until a little after 9 AM. I awoke feeling like I had oatmeal running through my veins. I could hardly put two thoughts together in a reasonable sequence. I did remember that I was supposed to be at the office shortly after they opened at 9 AM so I pulled myself together well enough to start walking in that direction.

It is about a mile to the office. My slip is on the opposite side of the yacht basin from the office. The picture to the right was taken from in front of the marina office. Laelia is just out of sight to the right on the far side of the harbor. As you can see, I have to walk some distance around the perimeter rather than going in a straight line. One of the women in the office took a look at me and hastily offered me a bottle of water – which I gratefully accepted.

The paperwork was not too terribly involved. In what may have been 20 minutes, I was out of the office and wondering what to do next. On the way into the office, I had noticed that there was a small outdoor restaurant and bar next door. One of the things I was given during my registration was a 20% discount card for several of the businesses in the marina – including the restaurant. Since the thought of going back to the boat and lighting the stove was close to unthinkable, I took the easy way out and had breakfast at the restaurant. The food was good. The prices were comparable to US prices. I left there feeling much better and actually ready to start doing some work.

On the way back to the boat, I decided on a strategy for keeping my energy and morale up. I would work for a while, then take a shower and a rest. Repeat as needed all day.

It worked. To make life somewhat more bearable,, I pulled out my scruffy cockpit awning and put it up. That created a small patch of shade in the cockpit – a major benefit, I hoped. My first task was to pull out the mainsail that had failed me so treacherously on the way here. I cut off all of the reusable hardware, bundled up the ripped sailcloth and deposited it in a trash can at the end of the dock. I kept going past the trash can to the shower. The shade awning was a great idea but I had to do most of the work with the sail spread out on the dock. I was - of course – hot, sticky and ready for a shower. As an additional refinement to the process, I rinsed my tee shirt and underwear in the shower and put them on still wet to help me stay cool.

Back to the boat. I pulled out the mizzen sail and repeated the process. It was now a little after two in the afternoon. On the way back from the shower, I detoured to the convenience store again for another beer and Gatorade boost. I drank and I rested.

There wasn’t much I could salvage from the old jib. It has a bunch of expensive looking bronze piston hanks on it that I had hoped to salvage. Unfortunately, they are single use items. When they are installed, they are bent to fit around the edge of the sail. When I tried to straighten out the bend, they broke. That greatly simplified the salvage work. All I could salvage were some stainless steel rings and the tack pendant.

 

By now, it was dinner time. Still in the spirit of keeping up my strength and morale, I took myself out to dinner at the marina restaurant again. It was a delightful experience. I had a table overlooking the harbor. There was a light breeze and great scenery – and some entertainment. Not too far from where I sat, there was a large yacht - pictured at left. Lying on the bow, enjoying the sunset was a youngish looking couple (as far as I could tell.) Every now and then, the young woman would stand up and wiggle her hips at the man or wave her skirt around. Sounds like a Playboy bachelor’s dream. On the other hand, they may have been a married couple who still enjoy each other. I’ve known it to happen.

 

 

 

On the way back to the boat, I was struck by a statue created by Leonora Carrington – an English born woman who spent most of her artistic career in Mexico. She is described as a surrealist – a title she didn’t much care for. You may judge for yourself. See photo to the right. I would be very interested in hearing what this statue represents to you. The cross in the background is on a hill a mile or so away and just happened to be in the right place at the right time to strike my sense of whimsy.

So that’s it for now. I expect to stay here tomorrow (Sunday) to continue cleaning up and stowing for the broad Pacific. Monday I will move on to Cabo San Lucas. There, I will do some last minute shopping and check out with the Mexican government. It seems strange to have to get permission to exit the country. Not only that but when a foreign yachtsman moves from one port to another in Mexico, he/she has to report to the port captain. It makes me extra appreciative of the freedom we enjoy in the USA.

If all goes well (there’s that famous phrase again), I should be on my way back to Alameda, CA, on Tuesday – Wednesday at the latest. I hope to have one more blog update before I cast off. If not, you can find out where I am. See the comments at the start of this posting.

By the way - as I was composing all this, the mosquitoes were swarming again. It finally occurred to me to put on long pants and a lightweight, long sleeved shirt. It is warmer than I would like but it is preferable to being eaten alive!

Friday - Didn't quite make it out of the marina today

I hope you had a happy 4^th  of July! The marina is very quiet tonight. There is a big 4^th of July beach party at a beach about 20 miles from here.  Most of the boats here belong to US citizens who are at the party. I had other priorities for today so I didn’t make it.

I had four things lined up for today. As usual, I got only two of them done.

First accomplishment: I wanted to get permission to use my amateur radio equipment in Mexican territory in case I end up in Mexican waters again after I pass Cabo San Lucas. Fortunately, I am in the state capital of Baja California Sur where they have an office of the Secretary for Communications and Transportation (SCT). The state capitals are the only places outside Mexico City that can grant permission. The normal procedure is to apply at an SCT office. They do all the paper work and send it off to Mexico City. Sometime around a month later, paperwork arrives granting permission. I have been told by several sources that the receipt that SCT hands me would be evidence that I have permission to operate.

With this in mind, I dressed up in pants and a collared shirt, stuffed my papers into my backpack and started walking. I started a bit after 9 AM and the temperature was already in the upper 80s with humidity to match. It is about a mile and a half to the SCT office. By the time I got there, I was soaking wet with sweat.

The SCT building is a big white building with excellent air conditioning and not very many people in evidence. I approached the guard at the front door of the SCT office, Spanish phrase book in hand and asked for the amateur radio office – my best guess at what it would be called. He looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language – foreign to him, not me. After a couple of tries, I handed him the book and pointed to the words I was trying to use. He still looked puzzled. He was very polite and somewhat embarrassed at not knowing what I wanted. He made a short phone call and a cheerful looking middle aged woman by the name of Adriana appeared who spoke English. She very quickly figured out where I should go. She quickly began filling me in on her background as we walked to the appropriate office. She learned to speak English when she lived in Ohio some years ago and hasn’t used it much since she returned to Mexico over 20 years ago. Her English was quite good.

I had been told by another American radio amateur that a woman named Beatriz was in charge of the office and spoke very good English. Unfortunately, she was not in and the young woman filling in for her did not speak English. Adriana asked if I could come back on Monday when Beatriz would be in. When I told her I would be leaving La Paz this weekend, she conversed with the young woman behind the desk who rolled her eyes and pulled out a file folder. Adriana was quite happy to stay and act as translator.

The woman behind the desk made numerous phone calls. Another woman popped in several times from somewhere in the back to help and then disappeared. A man dropped in a couple of times with comments, apparently humorous since the women laughed a lot.

It took close to an hour to figure out what to put in the boxes on the form. A significant portion of this time was spent figuring out which of my names was my first name, middle name and last name. This despite the fact that my passport contains the Spanish words for the names. Apparently names are structured a bit differently here. Adriana explained that she has similar problems because her father has a French name. I’m not sure how that makes a difference but apparently it does.

At length, I was handed an invoice requesting payment of 1,314 pesos – about $103 US. I expected this. I was also told that I would have to go to the local Bancomer office to pay and then bring the receipt back to this office. I was expecting this as well. Apparently, Bancomer handles the money for the Mexican government offices. Adriana cheerfully gave me very detailed directions to the closest Bancomer office – about a mile back in the direction I had just come from.

So, back out into the heat and humidity. It seemed that it had cooled off a bit – or maybe it was just because I was walking into the faint, but noticeable, breeze. It also helped that the first part was down hill.

I found Bancomer without too much trouble – only one wrong turn. I pulled out my papers and joined the short queue to the tellers’ windows. Upon reaching the window, I handed the teller the invoice and my credit card. He looked at it and said something that I didn’t understand. I replied with my well-worn “Lo siento, hablo poco Espanol.” (I’m sorry, I don’t speak much Spanish.) He turned to the next teller who did speak English and who informed me that this credit card could only be used to get cash from the ATM. I explained that it was a normal credit card and I couldn’t get cash with it. No go. They wouldn’t take it.

I gathered up my papers and walked back out to the lobby where the ATMs resided. I used my debit card to withdraw cash, then went back to the line. I got a different teller this time. She accepted the cash. Then, incredibly enough, another round of trying to figure out my name ensued. Once that was resolved, I was handed a receipt with my last name first. I left hoping that it was acceptable.

Back to the SCT office – down wind and uphill. It hadn’t gotten any cooler. The sky was overcast, threatening to commence the daily afternoon thundershower. By this time, I would have been happy to be drenched with rain but all that fell was a few second’s worth of fine mist.

The guard recognized me, handed me my security badge and waved me on toward the office. Adriana showed up a few minutes later. Another set of long, intense exchanges ensued along with phone calls and drop in advisors. Apparently the bank was not supposed to put my last name first. Adriana laughed and shook her head. “Muy loco.” Even I could understand that.

Eventually, I was handed a receipt attesting to the fact that I had successfully applied for a permit to operate my radio in Mexico. However, there was nothing on it about what I would use for a call sign. After some discussion and looking at applications that had been processed recently, it is my understanding that I can use the call XE2/AG6YW. The XE2 prefix to my normal call tells the world that I am operating from Mexico.

I bid them all farewell. Adriana walked me to the front door. She spotted my empty water bottle and volunteered to fill it with cold water. How wonderful!

Out the door and on to objective number 2 for the day – go grocery shopping. The Super Mercado where I have been doing my grocery shopping was on the way back from the SCT office. I filled my back pack with potatoes, onions, apples and some canned goods. Two loaves of bread and a dozen eggs went into my shopping bag.

The mile or so back to the marina was as bad as all the rest put together. I was carrying the fairly heavy back pack, the wind had died entirely and the temperature had gone up. By the time I got back to the marina, I was not only soaked with sweat, but red faced and tired.

Nonetheless, I pressed on with objective number three for the day – check out from the marina. I am paid through today so my plan was to check out and then move out into La Paz Harbor to a safe anchorage. I needed to go to the office right when I got back because it was approaching the 4:30 closing time.

I must have a guardian angel of some sort. The woman who met me in the office explained that I had until noon of the day following my last paid day to check out – just like a hotel. What a relief! I walked out to the boat, dumped my baggage, put on a pair of shorts and headed for the shower house. I stood under the shower for at least 10 minutes. The best I could do was to get cool water – not cold – but it might as well have been a mountain stream - refreshing!

Back on the boat, I pulled out a cold beer. That may not sound remarkable but you may remember that the refrigerator quit while I was back in California. Since I got back, it has worked in an on again, off again fashion but enough to cool the beer. That’s all I really need.

I tried to use my new call sign this evening and check in on the Pacific Seafarers Net. Conditions were not good. Stations were fading in and out. I made brief contact and asked to be added to their roll call before they all faded away. Hopefully it will be better as I get out onto the Pacific. I would like to be able to get weather updates. I can get FAXs that are transmitted from Pt Reyes with some weather information but it is in a form that I have to evaluate and translate to guess at the wind direction and strength. I’m not all that good at it.

My final objective for the day was to fill the water tanks. It will wait until tomorrow.

I have been able to do Google video chat with Judy that last couple of evenings. It is wonderful to be able to see and hear her from this distance. Tonight was probably the last chance to do it. While I am in the marina, I have a wired connection to the Internet that is pretty decent. When I leave here, I will be back to using wireless and most of the free wireless connections I have run into so far are not good enough.

Tomorrow I move out – for sure. I will only move about a mile and anchor while I finish getting things stored away for the trip. Sunday should see me on the way!

Thursday - Getting ready to cut the cord

My work pattern here is heavily influenced by the hot, humid weather. I get a few hours work done in the AM then hide out until the heat lets up around 6 PM. Even so, work is progressing.

The air here in La Paz must carry a lot of dust – the deck of the boat and the cockpit were very dirty when I got back. Alfredo, one of the locals who works on the docks here, started scrubbing down the deck a little after 9 AM. He did a great job! He worked a little over two hours and the deck is now blindingly white. Cost: 250 pesos – a little less than $20 US.

I also had the bottom scrubbed today. Enrique reported that my zincs on the prop shaft were gone. Bad news! They are supposed to be sacrificial components to keep the shaft and prop from getting eaten up by electrolysis. I know they were in decent shape when I left San Diego. Enrique also reported that he got a shock when he touched the shaft. That may explain the high rate of consumption of the zinc. There is some stray current running between the boat’s underwater components and the shore power. That would greatly accelerate electrolysis.

Enrique appears to have done a great job – about an hour and a half of scrubbing plus replacing my zincs. Cost: 400 pesos – about $32 US. That’s easily the cheapest bottom cleaning I’ve had done.

While all this was going on, I climbed up the main mast and rigged some lines that I hope will keep the halyards from getting caught on the mast steps. That happened frequently on the way down and it is very annoying at the least. I did the mizzen mast steps this evening after it cooled off.

Tomorrow is the day for cutting the cord. I will unplug from the marina's shore power and move about ½ mile to anchor out for the next day or two while I finish preparations. I hope to have Internet coverage via the marina’s Wi-Fi but I can’t count on it so this may be my last update for a while. I may have Internet connectivity when I get to Cabo San Lucas.

I wish I could have gotten away a week earlier. There are reports that the winds on the Pacific side of Baja are warm and from the south – thanks to Tropical Depression Douglas. It looks like it could almost get me to San Diego without going all that far offshore. By the time I get out there, the winds look like they will be back to normal unless I get lucky and another tropical depression comes wandering up from the south. That means heading well out toward Hawaii before I can turn north.