Island Time By Michael

Gliding towards Del Viento at anchor. We bought this
kayak used from Maluhia in Puerto Vallarta. Our time
out at the islands confirmed that it was a good purchase;
we're looking now for a second one.

Windy's mom flew down to La Paz and spent a couple weeks with us. We spent most of her visit 20 miles away from La Paz, at the uninhabited playground that is Isla Espiritu Santo. We didn't even scratch the surface in terms of all there is to explore.

The girls especially enjoyed their time with Grandma. In fact, I think her visit will be more memorable for them than all of the natural beauty we were immersed in.

The weather was perfect the first few days, but then turned windy. Fortunately, we were in a protected anchorage until the last night, where Grandma Julie took her turn at anchor watch, bracing herself against the howling, chilly winds while we pitched like mad into breaking swells. It was a sleepless night, but afterward we returned to La Paz and finished up her visit in slip 207 at Marina Palmira, where we all slept soundly.

--MR

Grandma Julie and the girls eating breakfast in the cockpit at anchor
in La Paz. Specifically, they're eating toasted bagels and fresh
pineapple. We splurged and bought a toaster in La Paz. When I
say splurge, I'm not talking about the cost of the toaster, I'm
talking about the number of amps is sucks from the batteries
when we use it--that is hard to swallow, but toast is nice.

I took about 100 examples of this picture. I naively
figured I could sell it to a sailing magazine
as their cover shot. I had pretty much
already spent the large check I was
sure to receive, when I reviewed the
guidelines on the Cruising World website,
"Avoid shadows, large, dark areas "

Eleanor with about the 239,412th hermit crab she's found since we arrived in Mexico.

Grandma Julie's visit was like Christmas all over again. She brought gifts from
herself, other relatives, and some D.C. friends. She also brought our mail,
some Trader Joe's goodies, and stuff we needed from West Marine.

Grandma Julie and Frances headed to shore.

Having lived aboard in her 20s, Grandma Julie felt comfortable on Del Viento
and understands our lifestyle.

Windy, Frances, Eleanor, and Grandma Julie watch another amazing sunset.

The Land Before Time By Michael

Eleanor with her lizard friend. This little guy approached
the girls when we landed and he looked a little peaked.
Eleanor fed him water, dried cranberries, and banana
and he perked up and got greener. We had to shoo
him away when it was time to leave. 

At the start of the year, we sailed to this place teeming with birds, mostly blue-footed boobies and frigates. This place is a rugged, nearly deserted island about 25 miles off the Pacific coast of mainland Mexico. This place is a protected national park where Mexican biologists and their grad students camp for months at a time to study the birds. This place is host to migrant Mexican fishing families who arrive by panga to live part-time in the beach-front encampment owned by their co-op. This place is known by cruisers to have a poor, rock-strewn anchorage with little protection from wind in any direction, and where boats are wrecked, but a place that must be visited regardless. This place is Isla Isabel.

Our friends aboard Wondertime used the apt description of Isla Isabel as “the Mexican Galapagos.” Iguanas approached us out of seeming curiosity. Booby couples whistled and honked at us from their nests at our feet, warning us not to step too close to their eggs on the ground. Frigate birds peered down at us from branches a couple feet above our heads, males inflating their brilliant red throat sacks in their bids to court females, undeterred by our wandering and starring.

Isla Isabel is what remains of a volcano. The island’s geography seems young, her features sharp and prehistoric, not smoothed out and tamed by the dulling forces of wind and sea. Rugged, magnificent spires mark the primary anchorage off the eastern shore and underwater pinnacles make the southern anchorage unsafe for more than one vessel at a time.

This guy was all alone, probably because his
feet weren't blue enough. Note the tag on his
leg. This was put there by the biologists who
camp on the island and study the birds.

As the biologists on the island maintain bird blinds on the eastern shore, dinghy landings are encouraged only on the southern beach where the fishing encampment is located. And from this beach are two trailheads, each promising a unique view of this natural wonderland. From behind the encampment, we hiked upward to the low rim of the volcano before descending into a caldera densely covered in low-canopied trees. Here the Magnificent Frigatebird (Fregata magnificens) nests on top of the low canopy, just 8-10 feet off the ground, and generally in clusters of nests that crowd the small trees (the colony here is the largest in Mexico, 35,000 to 53,000 birds). During our visit, fluffy, white-feathered chicks poked over the edge of their nests, watching us pass, in stark contrast to their coal-colored parents.

Anytime we were out from under the dense canopy, we watched a sky filled with soaring frigates. It is a sight to see, hundreds of birds moving through the air in different directions, hardly a bird flapping its wings, all riding invisible currents on their majestic, 7-foot wingspans.

Up over the other rim and across a field of tall grasses is the shore and thousands of blue-footed boobies, the frigate’s inelegant, pudgy polar opposite. Curiously, these birds nest on land--and not under the protection of some scrub brush or on the side of a rocky cliff, just on land. Ironically, they don't move especially well over land, just standing or walk in an ungainly fashion, sort of resembling a diver walking with fins on. But they are swift, strong fliers and good fishermen. The boobies pair up monogamously, male and female, to build, maintain, and defend their nests.

Three of the yong scientists we met who were
a few weeks into a three month stay, studying
the booby population.

The boobies' eyes are non-blinking and expressionless, their feet range from a brilliant pastel blue to a pale green. In the case of the male, their feet color changes with their diet, over short periods of time. The females observe this and pick their mates accordingly. Additionally, mothers check out the foot color of their chicks to determine to which she administers food.

A steeper hike from the beach leads through an area where hundreds of iguanas, in all sizes, wander under foot. From there it is up the rugged slope of the southern rock bluff where a stunning view of the bay and much of the island awaits.

Here is the view from that part of the island, filmed by the crew of Wondertime:



--MR

We happened upon this Magnificent Frigatebird in a dire state. He had dropped
down beneath the dense canopy. With his seven foot wingspan, it was impossible
for him to get back up, though the dense foliage. We watched him struggle for a
bit before Windy and Eleanor tag teamed to shoo him through a
gap in the canopy. They were successful, but he seemed pretty tired
or wounded from his ordeal and we left him wondering if he would make it.
I later read that falling beneath the canopy was a death sentence for these
guys and one of the leading causes of mortality. 

This is a couple making their nest on the ground.

Eleanor on the craggy coast of Isla Isabel.

The Chacala Secret... By Michael

The beach was packed to the gills with Mexicans on holiday. The same beach will likely be
much less crowded when you arrive. This picture was taken during the Christmas break.
We hear that the only time of year Chacala is more crowded is during Easter/Santa Semana.

Chacala is a gem, a tiny, picturesque cove on the west coast of mainland Mexico, between Mazatlan and Puerto Vallarta. This anchorage is described in every guidebook I’ve seen for this coast, yet none mention its best feature: the hike to the rim of the extinct volcano.

Chacala changed since I was last here in 1997. Where there was once only a spattering of modest homes and tiny businesses, and just a few palapa restaurants on the beach, now there is more of everything and several spectacular hillside mansions. But Chacala on steroids retains its natural beauty. And even though the volcano trail we hiked back then is long gone, erased by the changes, no worries, we found a way. To any cruisers planning to make landfall in Chacala, following is what we did:

Once you’ve landed ashore and checked in with the port captain, walk down the beach in a southerly direction until the palapa restaurants end. Now get on the inland side of the chain link fence and continue in the direction you were going, but on the dirt frontage road. Soon you will come to a sign and a gate marking the entrance to the Mar de Jade Holistic Living Center (where wealthy people come to do yoga and starve themselves). Continue in, you have our permission.

Now eyes left. See the grassy parking lot where each space is defined by a palm tree? Good, walk left into this lot and continue on to the end. There you will see the start of a trail. Take it. If within 50 feet or so you cross a brook on a concrete bridge, you are in the right place. Keep going.

Just as you start to really enjoy this delightful jungle trail, say after an 1/8^th of a mile or so, it will end where bulldozers created the road leading to those spectacular hillside mansions. If you can somehow pick up the trail on the other side of the road, more power to you, we could not. Instead, we followed the road up (to the right, or towards the beach). After about a half-mile or so, you’ll see the first gated entrance to a hillside home; keep going up.

Finally, the road will dead end at what must be the mother of all spectacular hillside mansions, judging by the entrance (I would be happy to retire in the gatehouse). The place is called Orofino, the gatehouse is up the drive. Walk up the drive, you have our permission.

Now, on your left, about 30 feet before the gatehouse, there is a depression in the low wall bordering the drive. Beyond that depression, there appears to be a trail going up the hillside, or at least a break in the foliage where construction debris is scattered. On our way up, we hopped this 12-inch wall and scrambled up the hill. We saw a lean-to and more construction materials off to the left. After about 150 feet, we came across another, very narrow fire road. (Now, it turns out--as we learned on our way down--that this narrow road actually intersects the Orofino driveway beyond the gatehouse. A much more civilized approach to the volcano would be to pass the gatehouse and turn left at the first intersection, about 100 feet beyond.)

This is a road that runs along the rim of the volcano. If you go left, you will ascend to the highest part of the rim. At that point, orchards of some kind of tree (I imagined them to be olive trees, but they’re not) will surround you. Off to your right, you will see grasslands down below, in the perfectly round crater, about a 1/4-mile in circumference.

All of the way up (and down), you will catch stunning views of the bay and of your boat at anchor. Once beyond the lush jungle, to where the orchards are, the neat rows of those olive-looking  trees juxtaposed against the deep blue water and mountains beyond, will make you think you’ve landed in the Med (not that I’ve ever been there).

Of course, we left the camera aboard for this hike. Doh!

--MR

In Banderas Bay, we enjoyed swimming in the water. Now in the
Sea of Cortez, cooler waters may preclude pictures like this until spring.

La Cruz Retrospective By Michael

This is the main artery of La Cruz,
calle Langosta. Note the wood
cross in the center of the roundabout.
This cross is made of huanacaxtle,
a type of hardwood. In the
distance, you can see some masts
against the blue water of the bay;
this is the marina.

We left La Cruz de Huanacaxtle on December 27, nearly four months after we moved aboard there, not an insignificant period of time. It is the kind of time that allowed us to become quasi members of the community, recognized and greeted by the people who live there. We bought sundries, we had our laundry done, we sought medical care—all the domestic stuff not associated with tourism or transience.

La Cruz is small, walkable. This accessibility is enhanced by the Mexican culture (and climate) whereby much of life is lived outside, literally on the streets. In the afternoon and evening, doors to homes are wide open and occupants sit outside, in chairs shooting the breeze, watching the world go by. And we become part of that world that goes by, on our way to the market, the bus stop, the paleteria, the lavanderia, or a taco stand (set up in the street). Over a short period of time, greetings became more familiar and we came to learn that the lady who made our tacos is married to the diver we saw on our docks every day preparing to clean boat bottoms. We came to know the names of the dogs we passed. We enjoyed long conversations about Mexican politics and local development with Claudia, owner of a local eatery. We long ago stopped telling the women at the lavanderia our boat name. La Cruz was our first home as a live aboard cruising family and it is well suited to that role.

The modern marina on the banks of La Cruz was both a stark contrast to the town, and a tightly integrated member of the community. And the marina is filled with pleasant, helpful employees and cruisers who arrived long before us and who helped us to transition. The crews of Ballona, Cactus Tree, Happy Nest, Katrina Liani, Kenta Anae, Maluhia, Sababa, Sourdough, and Ulalena were our first neighbors in this new life, and became our first friends. And finally, there was Tami on Andiamo III. She was the resident den mother who somehow found the time and energy in the summer heat to organize a La Cruz Kid’s Club event every other weekday. Her sense of humor and enthusiasm was welcome and always appreciated. She and her family are headed to El Salvador for a season and eventually to the East Coast; we wish them fair winds.

--MR

This is the billboard outside the marina advertising its snazzy rooftop restaurant. The
Spanish is nice, it roughly translates to, "Where the seasoning enhances the view!" How
could so much money be spent on a sign without employing a better translator? You see
this all over Mexico, and it makes no sense, given all the English speakers.

While in La Cruz, I had the opportunity to play a minor role helping the crew
of  Nylon Nyon re-step their mast after they lost the top five feet during a sail
in the bay and their subsequent repair. Nyon was one of the many boats that
arrived very late in our stay and added to our La Cruz experience.

In our final weeks in La Cruz, the number of cruising kids grew and grew. This is a gaggle
of giggling girls on the foredeck of Convivia. Frances is among them, in the turquoise shirt.

Whale Follow-up By Michael

Mexico is just different. Every supermarket I've been to
sells this stuff: Jarabe de Maiz pasteurado para Bebe.
This translates to: pasteurized corn syrup for babies.
On the back are instructions for adding it to the
bottle, adding it to porridge, using it to make fruit
appetizing, or dabbing it on the pacifier.

In my first post about the whale incident, I wrote:

[immediately following our failed attempt to free the whale] We made a call to the fleet. One of the three boats in the anchorage answered, as well as a vessel in distant San Blas who heard our call and who had recently helped cut the net away from a mother whale and its calf. Wendaway didn’t have any additional advice, but did strongly advise against going in the water next time. It sounded like their whale was tangled such that the lines could all be cut from the dinghy, and they had two adults in the dinghy, a real advantage. I felt better about the difficult decision we made.

Turns out that Mark aboard Wendaway was underway with two crew when they spotted a mother and calf, tangled together, the day before we spotted our tangled whale. Mark was apprehensive about putting his boat and crew at risk to try and save the whales, but his crew, Frank and Mary, were determined to try and do something. They came up with a plan and some rules of engagement and went forward. There are three interesting posts about this encounter on Wendaway’s blog:

·         A detailed account of the rescue, written by Frank, who cut the whales free from a dinghy over a two-hour period.

·         A clear account of the incident from Mark’s perspective (owner and captain of Wendaway).

·         A postscript by Mark that includes information about his own subsequent investigation into drift netting, Mexican law, and crew safety.

And below is a fascinating video that Wendaway put together about their encounter. After seeing how matter-of-factly the fishermen behave in this video, my conclusion is that these entanglements are not uncommon.


On the back of a whale: a rescue from Mark Schneider on Vimeo.

And finally, the following video by experts who discuss whale rescue responses. In short, Del Viento and The Rose broke all the rules in our save, but all’s well that ends well.

--MR

Frances watches her big sister sew, in the cockpit, at sunrise--the last sunrise of our
three-day passage across the Sea, from Isla Isabel to Ensenada de los Muertos.