“Akimbo, Akimbo, this is Dave.”

Clever. He found the vhf radio OUTside of the Hidden Port Yacht Club in Puerto Escondido (now locked), mounted THERE for just such a purpose. Akimbo and i were on a mooring buoy out in the harbor. It was 8 or 9 pm. I had just finished dinner and dishes and was getting ready to dinghy in and walk up the road to meet him where the bus from La Paz would let him out. He was early, having expediently rented a car rather than taken the bus. In fact, while i hadn’t answered earlier, he had time to have dinner at the restaurant at the marina. I don’t know what premonition prompted me to turn on Akimbo’s radio, but there Dave was.
“Dave! Hi, this is Akimbo. I’ll be right in.”
Dave is a parent of one of Tyler’s Waldorf classmates, so we have been acquainted for years. As the week went on, we enjoyed lots of conversation, music (he’s a good guitarist), food, and getting to know each other better. This leg of the trip, and coming south with Bud & Rhoda, felt different – because i had been to these places before, and i had been to them alone. It was fun to feel familiar with where we were, know what to look for, and to share. Also what's new is seeing more boats here - three months ago traffic was much more sparse.

The next day was Dave’s birthday – and the equinox. We started south at about noon. The wind must funnel into Puerto Escondido: it looked like a day for the solent jib, but just outside of the harbor the wind went light. We switched to the genoa, eventually the drifter, and finally had to motor into Agua Verde. There were three other boats there, but i was glad to see they hadn’t taken the spot where i had hoped to anchor. As soon as we were secured a school of porpoise came into the anchorage right behind Akimbo. I’m guessing there were 20 or 30 of them, many of whom were small enuf that we had to guess they were infants. There was a lot of tail slapping and jumping going on for about half an hour. It was a delightful show.
We seemed to cross paths with them again the next day as we sailed south to Puerto los Gatos and they were headed north. It proved to be our only day sailing upwind, so our only day with the main up along with the genoa. We shared the anchorage in Gatos with one other boat. With no wind the next day and not willing to listen to the engine, we went for a hike in the morning and snorkeling in the afternoon.

Two fishermen’s camps set up on the beach, and later four or five NOLS drascombe long boats came in and camped as well – having rowed most of the day.
After that we had a good downwind romp with the genoa alone down San Jose Channel. We were overtaken and left behind by a large school of porpoise, guessing well over a hundred of them. We had planned to stop at Amortajada, which provides good shelter from the waves…but not the wind. So we carried on to Isla San Francisco, where it turned out 17 other boats were holed up.

The next day didn’t offer weather that would let us explore the small island community that i noted on my way north, Isla Coyote, so we carried on south. I fell for the late morning lull and put up the drifter by itself, thus calling the wind back up. This turned into a great (if tense) sleigh ride, touching 9 knots at one point. We tucked into the caldera between Islas Partida and Espiritu Santos, “Caleta Partida” (along with 7 other boats), for a good night’s sleep. We decided to spend one of our extra days here, dinghied into the beach and to say hi to our neighbors.

Our last day of sailing didn’t have as much wind as forecast but got us to La Paz anyway, leaving us a day to walk around La Paz before Dave would fly out.
Dave's message he would write to the world: "stop the killing." Thanks Dave for joining me down here. I appreciated the extra hand aboard that you so willingly were. It was a pleasure to share sailing in this beautiful place with a fellow enthusiast. Jack and Cinny's plans have to wait, so looks like i'm on my own again for a bit. Guess i'll look for a "hitch hiker" or two for crew over to Mazatlan in a week or so...unless one of YOU heads my way.

Magic

To have a thought, to find the words to express it, and then watch all the details happen that bring the thought into reality…this is magic. We create reality. As much as the original idea itself, THE key is to express it. Tied up at the marina in Guaymas, hearing Bud and Rhoda’s “hellooo” when they arrive as planned. Magic.

It turned out that my friends Rose and Jani had arrived the day before aboard their Halberg 46 “Lovely Lady.” They provided B&R with a welcoming cocktail hour of fresh prawns and champagne. Thank you very much. Before i got there i was intimidated when i read that its population was 130,000, but we all quite liked Guaymas. The next day we had my new friends, brits Tony and Jacqui of “Wind Strutter” (whom i had met in Bahia Concepcion on my way north about 6 weeks earlier) aboard for waffles for breakfast. We then did the last of our shopping to stock up and took naps to get ready for the night’s passage to Santa Rosalia. The passage went reasonably well. Started out flat so we motored, wind came on our bow with Bud’s watch, sailed about half of the 19 hours under triple reefed main and jib. At one point we passed a cloud of phosphoresence in the water. I had to check my thought..."no, we couldn't be in shallow water, must be a cloud of krill or small fish." Arrived around noon, and caught the four o’clock bus to San Ignacio. “Whirlwind.”

Tony and Jacqui had recommended a “Ignacio Springs B&B”. We managed to secure a night in one of their yurts and caught up with the sleep we needed. The next morning we caught the shuttle to San Ignacio lagoon, where we had reservations with Pachico’s Eco Tours to visit the whales in the lagoon. The shuttle ride was about 90 minutes thru, what seemed to us, bizarre and empty landscapes – desert and huge tidal flats.

We were in time to join a panga going out for the day with new acquaintances (two more brits) Eleanor and Steve.


They had visited the whales here three years ago…and apparently couldn’t wait to get back. I chose Pachico’s because Lynn of the kayakers who had me over for dinner at Santa Domingo had recommended them. Eleanor and Steve had chosen Pachico’s because it is a family run, small operation with a much more inclusive than business feel to it – they had been there about a week.

All the Pachico’s staff had a beauty about them, a belonging, the kind of folks you quickly realize you want as part of your community. In 1972, Pachico was the first fisherman to be approached by a whale and to share his experience (see more at pachicosecotours.com). His son, Jesus, now leads the camp.
Face it, i am a terrible whale photographer. It seems all i could catch was where they had been. So i’ll spare you the photos of telltale splashes. (photo courtesy of Bud)

Apparently the whales are more inclined to approach the pangas and be touched when it is calm and the boats aren’t tossing about – smart. Our day was windy, but we found ourselves closely surrounded at times by several gray whales and their calves. We felt their company strongly. At dinner in camp that evening, Eleanor described touching the whales earlier in the week giving her a profound feeling of connection to the world and universe. We recommend making the effort to get to this remote place and unique experience. When we got back to the boat the next day i wrote to Patagonia Inc to suggest they associate themselves with and help out Pachico’s.
The next day we sailed south in plenty of wind to Chivato, mostly under genoa alone poled out. Orchestrating those 28 nm in 5 hours comfortably took some intent and focus and felt like an accomplishment. Where we beached the dinghy, we met two young men who gave us a ride to the restaurant and joined us for dinner. Daniel, a photographer, had crewed down here for his friend Hayden aboard a Columbia 29. It was our pleasure to trade stories back and forth with them. While i write this entry, i listen to the wind howling out there. We are appreciating the shelter here too much to leave, and tomorrow’s forecast is for a bit calmer weather. So we will spend one of our “lazy days” at anchor here, enjoying each other, good food, conversation, books and maybe even a movie.
After that we passed up San Sebastian for the more dependable shelter of Punta Pulpito – so it was a longer day than planned. Given the amount of wind, which called for the better shelter anyway, we made the day with good speed. En route i learned something: don’t put out a fishing line when sailing downwind. Sailing upwind it is easy to stop the boat and reel in the fish. Sailing downwind, both i and the fish have to work against the boat speed. Almost lost our biggest “dark meat tuna” yet. We’ve been enjoying fresh fish tacos ever since.

From there San Juanico was easy, after which we took one of our lazy days to go nowhere else. We took the dinghy to the beach to view the “cruiser’s shrine.” Our Akimbo banner from Feb 1 was still tied to its branch. I then got a bit too ambitious with our dinghy exploration. Spray splashing us, we were glad to make it back to Akimbo.
The general weather pattern seems to build until sunset and calm at night. The wind started early the next day. Some 6’ breakers and 30 knot gusts as the morning went on. We made the 20 nautical mile run to beautiful Isla Coronados in 3 hours under genoa alone.

Pretty fast, and well deserving of full attention. I admit my pride in my two elder crew, to bite off this much adventure at their age. Delightful companions, they are “up for” whatever presents itself.
Another lazy day of a movie and beach combing.


Our last day out was our first “less windy” day and a beat (definition: wind ahead of us instead of behind us). It started out calm. We gave sailing a good try for a few hours but couldn’t hardly get over 3 knots of speed. The beauty of it was to hear the whales before seeing them. The wind began to fill and we finished our sail, thus the whole trip, with a beautiful, long, lifting tack to Puerto Escondido.

The Sierra Giganta closes with the the Baja coast here, moves from the background to the foreground. As we got closer to it, it was a real treat to share our appreciation of its beauty. Hiking in the Apalachian Mountains long ago, a friend taught me that i could simply point out the scenery that caught my eye, that i didn’t have to describe it and in fact words were often not up to the task, and even if they were if i had to explain it he likely wouldn’t “see” it, that i could leave room for it to speak for itself and him to see it for himself. The Sierra Giganta also inspires me to not attempt description. (for photos go back and look at entries around end of January and start of Feb).
Magic. Next up, Dave Tetta joins me to sail to La Paz by the 28th. After that, the approximate plan is to take a week to go see the Copper Canyon. Then i’ll see if some crew are trying to “hitch hike” a ride to Mazatlan, as i make my way south. Jack, Cinny and i are circling some ideas between there and Puerto Valarta toward the end of April, where i may leave the boat a while if another yacht delivery gets on my calendar in the PNW.
I realize i am “stretching my umbilical” with my community. But i hope you’ll you come create a reality with me too. That we won’t feel so far apart after all. To feel “just around the corner”, can we simply re-define “the corner?” Can you expand with me our idea of neighborhood and community? In the meantime, ponder this: i think we all have “something to say.” So if you were to write to the world, what would you say? Rhoda: “don’t be afraid.” Bud: “that which is not impossible is inevitable.” Me: “let us always increase our capacities to appreciate, and strive to meet those increasing capacities.”

P.S. Thank you more than you know for your comments. They give me company, i feel the love, they reduce my "voice in the wilderness" feeling - which actually feels good sometimes (key word "some").

A long one...but it's been a while.

2/15-16/10 Santa Rosalia to Bahia San Francisquito – actually just south at Bahia Santa Teresa because it offers better shelter from the north wind. 77 upwind miles in 21 hours, mostly under double reefed main and solant jib. Good sail, clear skies, no moon. Went pretty smoothly, stayed alert all night, only saw one other boat out there, got some naps in underway. Should sleep well at anchor tonight.
Stayed at anchor a day, to nap, paddle ashore, beach comb, pour over charts and books and plan itineraries.
Next, Isla Partida and a few days north and later Isla Ventana. Finally a couple of anchorages i didn’t like. Really, how bored will you get reading this like it’s a sales pitch? These are a couple of barren islands. Going ashore and hiking was bleak and short lived. While on one of them, the wind turned around. Getting in the kayak, feeling the pressure on the paddle, i realized that if the paddle broke i would be hard pressed to get back to Akimbo. Or if the anchor would drag, i wouldn’t have any margin for error getting out of there. My vulnerability came from the background to the foreground sharply. Threaten someone, and it takes all the fun out of the moment. I let these places desolate my spirits. The “crack in my armor” started letting doubts return and much broader questions echo inside me. Loneliness and homesickness came for a visit.




In between these places, Ensenada el Pescador proved to be good shelter when an elefante (a local gusty katabatic wind) blew from 2 to 4 a.m.. On shore is an abandoned beach resort, strangely so, for all its details. There is a very big piece of whalebone there. What i enjoyed most were the three largest palapas i have ever seen. One with hardwood floors still well finished despite being virtually outdoors. The biggest is a huge double. Masterworks, their posts are made from a type of tree that grows several trunks intertwined…like lovers’ limbs. What kind of tree does this? Beautiful.





THE day to remember was Feb 21 – this was a day of weaving thru the islands in the Bay of LA, and getting curious about the coves on the western shore of Canal de Ballenas. These coves are not in any of the guidebooks and their details aren’t charted, but they look like they deserve to be. I thought about motoring slowly in to them. About the time i shook the reefs out of the main the wind came up, (i shouted epithets at the sky)…and up and up. All of a sudden we were hurtling along at 10.5 knots over the ground with full main and jib! The speed was exhilarating, but we were way over canvassed. Then again the north end of Isla Angel de la Guarda (Guardian Angel Island) wasn’t lookin’ so far away after all. I had given it up as a goal because of the weather forecast. But now the wind was up, and the sun and cloud shadows playin’ on the Angel were too beautiful to resist. Photos can’t do it justice. It was like sailing in the Grand Canyon half full of water. End result, i DID reduce sail, we made 40 miles without tryin’ and were rewarded with a pristine anchorage: Puerto Refugio.
En route, we sailed by Roca Vela (Sail Rock) – named for its shape and the guano turning it white. This pinnacle rises 100’ out of water 150’ deep. Gives a sailor the shivers. Imagine feeling safe in 250’ of water, only to find your boat impaled on a rock like this 50 yards later. We had some reefs to navigate around and the charts admit there are some uncharted. The other photo is of a crystal shaped rock that sits in about 100’ of water.

I stuck our neck out, THIS was remote, beautiful wilderness, all to ourselves. Angel de la Guarda being the last big island north in the Sea, we were 150 miles from the Colorado River, 450 miles from Cabo San Lucas. This was it. As far north as we were going. The dunes and beach were not white but a fine grained volcanic mauve sand. It’s a great destination that offers lots to explore. I wished i were there when the water is warmer, and that a storm wasn’t due to arrive in two days. Could i find a safe corner to tuck into?


Maybe i went to fear too easily. As the next day wore on, half motoring and half sailing back, i kept wishing i had stayed. Maybe that’s only because i had left. All the extra wind and big seas could have made short work of making the 40 nm to the shelter of Puerto Don Juan. But my frame of mind was still haunting me and i made the safer choice. The next day, when the wind came on to blow, i appreciated how well the anchor held. I was glad i was not out there in it.
The day at anchor gave my tho’ts time to catch up with my feelings. It feels like i am “doing” this adventure more than “being” in it. I appreciate that “what” i am getting to do is marvelous, but i’ve let “how” i am doing it become unconscious. I believe that “how” we do anything is almost more important than “what” we do. I.E. Writing above "crack in my armor?” Why am i feeling armored? Sailing long term single handed is a challenge. I’m amazed at the details i MUST take care of. Decisions are fewer but more important to me out here. One of them could so easily go wrong and eclipse all the ones that have gone right. It can be fierce. Like the desert i am sailing thru. The cactus may “have their arms up in surrender” but the plants here have weaponry! There are bones on every beach. When i listen, i hear myself yelling “fuck you” at the sky when there’s another wind shift against me. I’m not in some heroic Hollywood pose and “being one with the sea”…that’s not this reality at all. Then there’s “you son of a bitch” at some piece of equipment that breaks down, doesn’t cooperate or pinches my finger. So anger is coming out, and what more inexhaustible foe to aim it at than the sea? But do i really want to rush to certain defeat? I’ve often tho’t of sailing as a dialog with one's environment, not a battle. This has become a monolog and i’m the one who has forgotten his lines. Rather than fight this experience, if i truly meet it, hopefully i or some part of me will be met. How can i take my cue from Guardian Angel Island as my geographic turning point, and turn something around inside myself?

2/25 Animas Slot – cozy anchorage – look at the picture. Some wraparound swell gets in, but very nice. Last night’s anchorage was Isla Estanque at the south end of Isla Angel de la Guarda. The boulder strewn beach invited no good place to land the kayak, but it was better shelter and a better night’s sleep.
2/27 Bahia San Francisquito. I made the conscious effort to stay at anchor here today. It seems hard to make myself sit still. Enjoyed a hike up a long arroyo, saw a few jack rabbits, lots of coyote paw prints, baked bread. And caught up with more feelings. “For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.” When i was 29 my brother died. I don’t know where the genius came from in me, but i knew i wanted to commit to what had been denied him, commit to what he had wanted. Which was simply to live. To appreciate another breath. I knew that to do that, i couldn’t do it alone. I was lucky, so lucky, that Christine was my closest friend at the time and willing to join me. So, when i’m 54 and she died…i can find no equal and opposite reaction. …Now my luck is that i am a parent. My son’s presence, his particular presence, who he is is the “crack in the armor” that is my grief. (i'm gonna have to come back to the tho't of "grief as armor"). With him i vow to unconditionally love. This love reopens my heart to living. From there i feel a chain reaction that reopens me to my community of friends and family. And ultimately has to open me to dying. To letting go of the people i love. Which i can’t seem to do. I’m sorry i’m such a whiner. I’ve never tended toward contentment, satisfaction or peace. I haven’t taken a vow of unconditional… appreciation. Which is what this journey will require. Life goes on the same either way, whether i agree to its terms or not. It won’t agree to mine. Okay, i’m angry. I have no equal and opposite reaction. I go on. Looking for a way to be okay with the fact that she’s gone. I can’t think my way thru it. (Curious that all the different paths to consciousness require us to not think. What is consciousness, presence, availability to the moment?) I can’t find words up to this task… “Like tryin’ to dance about architecture...” But i seem to have to attempt it.
2/28 40nm to Bahia Monumento, Isla Tiburon. Not allowed ashore here without a Seri Indian guide. Mostly calm, motoring and sunny. First time to use the genoa instead of the jib since i don’t know when, so the wind was lighter. Really impressive currents coming out of Canal de Ballenas. Powerful. And true to the canal’s name 20(?) whales went by 200 yards off the stbd beam, headed south while we were headed NE. Saw 5 spouts and 2 flukes at the same moment. Later, porpoise visited. What fun to see them again, it’s been a while. The stbd lazy jack jammed. Tho’t i’d have to go up the mast to fix it but figured out a way to free it with lines and halyards. Whew! Very full moon reflecting on the water. Beautiful. Long day tomorrow sets up an easy rendezvous w/Bud and Rhoda. Will start at 4 a.m.
3/1 Yesterday we sailed in water over 5000’ deep…today we’re in 50-70’ most of the day, just off the Sonoran coast of mainland Mexico. But then yesterday was February and today is March. And yesterday the water temp got down to 64 and today it’s up to 70 – the fish should start bitin’ again soon, i hope. To be remarked upon, today went very smoothly. 62 miles in 13 hours. No dramas. No uncooperative equipment. My sail changes were in synch with the wind changes (first time to put the drifter up in a long time). “Friday night i’m goin’ nowhere and all the lights are changin’ green to red…Saturday i’m runnin’ wild and all the lights are changin’ red to green…” (David Gray). Today was the “red to green.” Even saw two porpoise synchronize their jump clean out of the water! Precision anchored in tiny Ensenada Julio Villa. Thank you!
Next morning i hiked to a distant cave that caught my eye. Hoping to find Machu Pichu, petroglyphs or a guru to answer my question. Photos of the surrounding fantastic landscape - keyhole in a distant ridge, the cave, a bird's nest, the anchorage...

3/2 Bahia San Pedro. First time i’ve shared an anchorage since Ensenada el Pescador. Four of us here tonight. And a fishermen’s camp ashore. I must be getting back to civilization. I respond by appreciating the undimmed starlit sky all that much more. The next morning i went exploring the nearby cliffs in the kayak, including a sea cave. If the rock here weren't so decrepit, there would be a rock climbing guide for climbs starting out of a dinghy (i've had the same thought near Nanaimo - and the rock there is solid).
I have discovered the pressure cooker! A cup of unsoaked beans, a cup of rice, 5 cups of water and 20-25 minutes of pressure cooking. Add the fixin's and voila!
And great blue herons? I used to think they’re Paleozoic squawking when they launch themselves is their way to voice their objection to being disturbed. But now i think it’s just hard for them to launch. They have to croak and groan about it. Kinda like our own “ugh,” or “oof.”
3/3 San Carlos. Hadn’t really planned to come this far. Several options went by, only one small one appealed to me. But this way i have the option to go for a canyon hike and to make it to Guaymas if San Carlos doesn’t appeal either… Which it doesn’t, doesn’t feel like Mexico (but then i’ve been in the outback), too many gringos and they don’t wave back to me. Glad to find that out soon enuf to change our rendezvous.