It’s been almost 9 months since we left Newport Oregon and a lot of water has passed under our keel since then, 3,168 miles worth to be precise. We’ve visited many wonderful spots and had lots of amazing experiences, traveling well over three thousand miles in the process. We are also quite crispy at this point. We were tested by the sea and the weather all along the way. As amazing as it has been at times, living on a boat, for an extended period of time isn’t easy, in fact it can be pretty darn hard at times. A boat is a lot like a pressure cooker for the cruising couple; take two people, throw them in a boat, add salt water and turn up the heat and you got a guaranteed recipe for stress with a capital S. I think that space, both physical and mental, is a good lubricant for any relationship and space is something, like fresh water, that is in very limited commodity on a sailboat. When the pressure builds, the crew either learns how to cope, or they blow up which is not a good thing given the forced interdependence we need in order to survive. We’ve got to be able to rely on one another, care for one another and trust one another with our very lives. I know that I can be a demanding skipper. That’s the way I was raised on the water, by demanding skippers, men who weren’t satisfied with “good enough”, men who demanded excellence in seamanship as well as tight team work. They were hard men who taught me how to sail hard and above all, safely. Just not always easily. I also know that hasn’t always been the easiest approach for Bev. I suspect that she appreciates the safety aspect in spite of it not always being easy. Working together, playing together and sometimes even suffering together, 24/7 has challenged us like no other experience that we’ve ever had and I think we are the better for it. We have survived by practicing the age-old adage that sailors of yesteryear use to have tattooed upon their hands; HOLD FAST. We have held fast in storms of wind, water and emotions. We have held fast, we haven’t let go and we have prevailed. We are both battling time and it’s effect upon our bodies. Both Bev’s shoulders and my knees have seen better days. We have both been coping and holding fast and supporting one another as best we can with the health issues too. We’ve learned to not only reconcile our differences but to celebrate and even leverage them to our advantage, both the physical as well as psychological ones. We’re learning to address our problematic issues earlier and in a calmer less judgmental way and to be more willing and capable of making allowances for the other and ultimately that there is truly no “other” in a sailing crew. We are both truly in the same boat when we are sailing and this might be the most valuable part of the trip that we end up with in addition to the pretty photos and good memories. In addition to battling wind, waves, exhaustion and physical challenges together, we’ve also celebrated countless sunrises, sunsets, star-filled and moon-lit nights, dolphins on our bow wave, whales close on our beam, walks on pristine beaches that are miles long with no one else in sight. All this has enriched us as individuals and as a couple. We could have much more easily flown or driven down to Mexico but we didn’t, we sailed and that has made all the difference. I have also had the pleasure of seeing Beverly grow as a sailor and as a person too. She has become stronger, more self-confident and capable as we’ve gone along. She’s much more willing to tackle intimidating situations and more than that, she complains less and takes action sooner. She’s well on her way to becoming a captain in her own right. I can give her no higher praise. I am sure that all too soon this whole floaty odyssey that we’ve been on will become nothing more that a dream within a dream, most of the specifics will be forgotten and the overall impression remaining will be that we sailed well together through many extraordinarily beautiful places and we held fast.
I don’t like to consider myself a sentimental person but after traveling and living aboard Malo for the past eight and a half months, when I went to lock her companion way hatch for the last time before we were to leave her for the season, a big wave of sadness passed over me. Malo has been a great boat, I’d say that she’s one of the greatest boats in my life. She has seen us through over 3,000 miles of wind, waves and wonder but now, faced with leaving her all alone on the hard, out in the desert for the next six months filled me with a profound sadness. Besides not being prone to sentimentality, I also don’t think of my self as someone who is prone to anthropomorphism yet there I stood, feeling deep fondness and gratitude towards something made out of plastic, aluminum and lead. I can’t deny that I love Malo as dearly as I do any other being. I feel that she has taken good care of us, her crew, over these past many months and sea miles as we have done our best to care and honor her. To paraphrase an old Japanese saying; For a boat to ever be more than just something floating on the ocean, the sailor must be more than someone just standing on that boat. It does feel like a full and symbiotic relationship to me between Malo and her crew, with good energy flowing in both directions. Leaving Mexico It was pitch dark at 10:00 pm when Martine arrived with his compact sized taxi. We were standing outside of Malo with all our stuff piled in the dirt; two folding bikes, 3 back packs, and 3 large duffle bags. I was thinking that we should probably call another taxi to share the load but Martine seemed undaunted and asked for a rope. In short order the bikes and duffels were packed as high as the unclosed top of the trunk and all lashed down in a way that reminded me of Bev’s Dad and how he used to move similarly big loads and even bigger ones with his compact sized car back. The remaining three of us and assorted bags squeezed into the cab and then down the rutted and rock strewn dirt road we went. As we made our way to the bus station the clear night air and bright lights seemed to reveal Mexico in a super-real way that left me feeling more like a witness than a participant in the events as they unfolded that evening. The streets were alive with people as we drove by a circus, a taco stand, a road side cantina with customers spilling out into the street, a meat market, it’s front open to the street and a butcher hacking away at a big slab of meat, kids hanging out, some people that looked homeless, a large patch of fur and blood in the middle of the road that may have been someone’s pet or perhaps a stray… We went through several stop signs without stopping and then passed a left turning car on the left. All of this without any since of drama or that it was out of the ordinary for this place. Mexico, I had felt so comfortable and part of this land of easy living for the past six months but not tonight. For some reason tonight I felt very much the stranger here. I realized that I must be starting to separate myself from this place and that brought on another wave of sadness. 24 hours from Guaymas to Las Vegas We took a Tefas bus from Guaymas to Vegas. The buses are inexpensive, modern, comfortable and the people, both passengers and operators were more friendly than I remember US buses being. There was also a lot more technology than I could manage; WIFI, a video feed, both AC & DC power were available. I couldn’t even figure out how to turn on the reading light. We road the same bus the whole way with three different drivers who’s personality grew more gregarious as the journey progressed. The second driver played great Mexican music that both Bev and I loved. The third driver was a happy fellow that really loves music. He started out playing a mix of opera songs mostly soaring arias, then moved on to a collection of classic waltzes. He sang and whistled his heart out with both genres.
I enjoyed some pleasant conversations with the other passengers who were mostly Mexicans however I did have a couple of good conversations with a young man that looked road worn and was htraveling with a guitar. He had been traveling in Mexico for about six months and just before he headed home to Wyoming his phone was stolen. Bev tried helping him connect with a friend who was supposed to meet him at the bus station in Vegas but weak broadband and cross border caca prohibited that so they agreed to try again once we crossed the border. That didn’t happen. He was detained at the crossing at Nogales. The last we saw of that gringo guitarristo he was being led off in handcuffs by two border patrol agents. I hope he was able to sort that caca out…Meanwhile the rest of us were back on the bus to Veges. I just shook my head. It’s just like what Kesey said; “You are either on the bus or you’re off it”. Damn, that man was a profit and I’m going off into the weeds…let’s see if I can get back on course…oh, here we got back on the bus to Vegas. I can’t say too much about the end of the bus trip other than we were getting quite fried “en la cabeza” and we slept a lot. We arrived in Vegas after 740 miles of bus travel amazingly right on schedule. It was ten o’clock at night when we got to the bus terminal and luckily we scored a taxi right off that was big enough to carry all of our stuff. The driver was very cool. He sported an old pork pie hat, had a big diamond in his left ear, said that he had 14 kids, said that had been a musician for the past 40 years, playing base guitar in funk bands. I could believe that, he had the vibe and he was driving a new vehicle worth over $60K and, and, and he had that super cool vibe. The other thing I remember about Vegas was using a very nice, Elvis themed bathroom at the airport. Elvis lives on in Vegas! The King is not dead, no he is not… I was starting to feel charmed. We had hit all our marks and anything that could break, broke our way. Once we crossed the border I turned on my phone for the first time in months and almost immediately got a call from my old friend Al. He has been living out in the desert and decided to try my phone on one of his weekly sojourns into cell range. It had been a while since we had spoken and it was good to know things were well with him and his wife Angele. We team drove a rental van all the way home a distance of 860 miles, another blurry, blur…again and more so as we were getting quite burnt out at this point. We drove very much the same way that we made passages on Malo, with one driving while the other slept. One cool thing worth mentioning was that we did a very good job of keeping an eye each other. I think that collaborative effort kept us out of a lot of potential trouble… Most of this part of the trip is a full on blur. Two things I do remember; passing by Area 52 in the middle of the night (nothing seen) and twice encountering small herds of mules walking down the middle of he highway. Bev’s fast reaction saved us with the mules as she broke hard and swerved right to avoid what may have been a very nasty accident. After traveling about 1,500 miles we hit our first “green”. We had been traversing the great Sonoran Desert, south to north and it’s wasn’t until we got near Crescent Lake in Oregon that we began to see green and it kept on greening all the way to our door step, where things were raging in electric green. And, and, and we got to take showers…simple pleasures are the best! When we got home it was wonderful. The house was in very good order, well tended by my friend Al’s sister Diane who house sat for us these past 9 months. She had bought a trailer and is planning to move up to Portland area soon, establishing her new home. It’s a world of wonders and we had nicely landed back in our home again. I have always thought that one of the beat parts of a good trip was coming home and here we were, delighted to simply be…home.
…where our floating home finds her home for the summer. The day started early for us. I was up at 5:00am with the first light of the new day. I started water heating, checked the latest weather report and at a little before 6:00am I woke up Bev. The sun was just staring to rise in the east and it was time to get this new day rolling. We had just two miles to travel today but they were across some poorly charted and shoal prone waters. Mile for mile, it was the most taxing passage of our whole tip. We were heading out on a moderate, rising tide. Malo draws 7’6”. The chart indicated that we had to cross a sand bar that was 6’ at mean low water. With fingers crossed, a prayer for good fortune and a back up plan to tip the boat if required, we set out at 7:00am. It turned that we didn’t need our backup plan and that all our concern about shoals was for not, but something strange did happen. When we were about half way across the bay a thick fog swept over the nearby hills around the bay. It was a surreal experience as it was the first fog that we had been in since leaving the Pacific Northwest. So thick it was that we turned on our radar. It was odd and out of place and it disappeared just as we reach Gabriel’s boat yard leaving me with a strange impression that we had just left one reality and entered another. The fog cleared and we arrived at the marina at 8:00am on the dot with out incident. The shallowest water that we saw on our passage was 8’ 6”. We had a whole foot to spare. Piece of cake! Once we arrived at the ways Gabriel’s crew guided us in and they did a very careful and professional job of hauling Malo out of the water.
We then proceeded to do the traditional slow-walk behind the travel lift carrying our beloved boat, “grounded boat rolling”, and us all anxious to see where she’d end up for the season. Across the yard we marched, then unexpectedly out of the yard we went, across the street into Gabriel’s second yard, I didn’t know he had two of them, then on to Malo’s new spot. The crew was even more careful in setting her down, preparing her and securing her than they were at hauling her, then they gave her a thorough power washing. Good guys.
That’s when our work began. Lots to do to prepare our floating home for a summer spent on land in the desert. Here’s the list: Before Haul Out Marine tex divits in cockpit Change engine oil & filters Clean bilges Grease wenches Clean and pack dinghy Remove and clean knot log/fathometer Wash dodger windows Launder clothes, towels etc Take down & bag sails After Haul Out Refit forestay Wrap rudder in reflective tarp Store sails Top off diesel tank and add bio stabilizer Spray engine with CRC Heavy Duty Corrosion Inhibitor or WD40 Flush Bilge Close all seacocks If secure boom Run messenger lines for all running rigging Change outboard motor oil Clean all thru hull and mar lube all seacocks Bag food, linens & books Inspect/clean engine raw water screen Bag all electronics and remove batteries from flashlights, radios etc Spay Windless with CRC Heavy Duty Corrosion Inhibitor or WD40 Clean fridge and prop open Flush sinks Vacuum crumbs Remove and bag printer cartridges Give away gas Close propane valve Head - Clean, flush with fresh, soak with vinegar, then oil. Lift mattresses Remove all foodstuff including spices, packaged soups, cereals and tins etc. Treat interior cupboards and areas with Max Force or Combat Roach Control Lift interior cushions to allow good air circulation Clean anchor and chain Clean chain locker Remove anchor and store inside. Last Day Remove binini & dodger Remove garbage Foil & close curtains & hatch cover Double lock outboard engine Turn off all items on master breaker board Turn off propane bottles Spray door locks with CRC or WD40 When all that is done we can head home. We are more than half way thru the list as I type this, 4 days into our storage preparations. In the mean time we are tryin to enjoy the work and our time in Gabriel’s yard as much as possible.
After San Pedro we sailed to Guaymas where we anchored in the outer harbor behind tiny Pajaros Island. We still had three days before out haul-out date and Bev suggested that we try to get into Marina Fonatur so we could jumpstart on dry storage preparations, not to mention showers and WIFI. One phone call later and Bev had us set up to head in then next morning.
To say that the marina is a little rough is a polite understatement but as sailors like to say; "any port in a storm” and Fonatur happened to be the only game in town. After a long day of boat projects we took the next morning off to see a bit of the town and pick up a few things that we needed. Guaymas was once a beautiful city. How many decades ago I don’t know. What I do know, what I can see and is readily apparent is that it’s growing long in the tooth, gray in the hair and even haggard.
One can tell by looking at what is left that Guyamas was once beautiful, proud and probably much loved by it’s inhabitance. Now days Guaymas is a port city and large ships from all over the wold call here. It’s also a major port for the Mexican Navy. In the industrial zone they produce machined parts, electrical and mechanical components, medical devices, and plastic injection moldings. Indigenous people lived here undisturbed until 1539 when the Spanish moved in and quickly claimed it for it’s value as a port, they liked it so much that they called it “the port of ports.” So basically modern Guaymas is almost five centerys old. It was briefly held in U.S. hands from 1847 to 1848 during the Mexican American War. Modern Guaymas even has a space tracking station. It is operated by the Mexican Space Agency. Sadly I hadn’t even realized that Mexico has a space agency. But they do and they played a key role in tracking the American manned space flights: Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo programs. Aside from space, how does a city grow? How does it age, become wise, beautiful, settled and then old and decrepit? Probably much like the people that created it, in stages, slowly at first then later more quickly. I guess that the more important question is will it come back? I hope so. It’s geographic location is spectacular. And then there are the people. Everyone we met was super nice.
And despite being old and run down, it’s still gorgeous in it’s crumbling own way…
After our time in Marina San Carlos we were ready for some more wild time away from civilization and back into the womb of nature. It turned out that San Pedro bay was just the place for us. It’s the wildest and most beautiful place that we’ve visited on the mainland. It’a a medium sized bay out of cell range, no internet and even radio signals even had a hard time penetrating into this sanctuary.
We SUPed ashore, walked the beach then hiked up the smaller of the two arroyos that feed into the bay. After the hike we SUPed back to Malo for a delicious dinner of fish tacos. I must say that after much study Bev has mastered the Baja fish taco. After dinner we watched the sunset which was one of those breath-taking 360 degree all around affairs.
Without any interference or competition from TV, internet, street lights or hardly anything else man made we were left with only the divine creations of land, sea and sky, left to ponder and soak up the reaches of those things undistracted, long on to the cosmic web, tune into the oldest reality show… It’s amazing that something so simple as a sunset can be so captivating and soul satisfying. It’s also amazing to me, given the short shelf-life of most media these days, that I’m still captivated and so moved. I’ve been watching sunrises and sets over the water my whole life. One of my earliest memories is of the sun coming up in the far western Pacific; a cobalt sky, the horizon defined by the blackness of the ocean and then a hint of pink in the east followed by and revealed a thin line of clouds out over the horizon back light by the sun that had yet to come up and then finally in one glorious second the sun burst forth into the sky starting of a new day… The next day San Pedro bay we were up early with the intent to hike the second and larger of the two arroyos in the bay. The land here is so sparse and dry, hostile to all but the most adapt lifeforms. In spite of and perhaps because of it there is a delicate beauty about this place that beguile the mind. It’s a delicate and at times surreal beauty… We hiked a couple of miles up the arroyo, onward into the heat of the day. We passed some cattle that seemed to be even more surprised to see us than we were to see them. Later we came to a cave in the side of the canyon that begged to be explored.
It was cool inside the cave. This seemed like a good place to turn back so we did. Life in the desert continues to astound me with it’s evident stubborn persistence and shear tenacity. As desolate and formidable this place is, there is also intricate geometry all it’s own on a both a micro and macro scale. That evening we hooked up with the crew on Mystic for a fabulous dinner on their boat and then we dinked to shore for a fire on the beach were we swapped life stories and future plans. Interesting folks.
We watched the sun go down in the west and had fun trying to name the stars and constellations one by one as they made them selves visible in the gradual darkening sky.
So after taking Bueno, our dink back to Malo in complete darkness, guided only by the light at the tip of our mast we ended a near preface day of cruising, tucked snugly in our bunk, rocked gently to sleep by the gentle, rhythmic waves that found their way into Saint Pedros bay.
Then next morning we took Bueno over to the other side of the bay to explore. That was a primitive fishing camp there that was deserted but not abandoned. From all the shells scattered about they’ve been harvesting an assortment of mollusks. We climbed a ways up the point and got a beautiful new perspective on the bay. We came across a simple shrine that the fishermen must have constructed on the side of the hill.
The we took a short hike to the next bay north of San Pedro. We discovered another beautiful bay, this one without any signs of human habitation and no boats at anchor. This place is so beautiful that I’m afraid that I might just explode in admiration and die of a lethal level of accolades, tributes and praise…
The day before we departed San Carlos I visited with one of our dock neighbors Andrew, aboard his boat. We sat in his cockpit, shared some beer and talked. He said that he was happiest when he was out sailing and then proceeded to tell me a bit of his life history. He grew up in Israel where his dad worked and family lived. When they return to the states he was drafted into Vietnam where he fought as a member of the Rangers. He was wounded in combat. A mortar round wasted his left knee cap. That was replaced with a prosthetic. It seemed that his body healed quicker than his psyche. He said that he got into a lot of fights back then. That he would pick them with 2 or 3 guys at a time. Said there was a lot of anger he needed to get out. He had lost a lot of friends in Vietnam. Said that’s what he fought for, friends, not the government. He said that I would probably would have gotten messed up too if i had gone. True that. At that point he started to choke up so we sat in silence for a while and then he got up and went for a short walk. It had been 45 years since he’s been at war and it was still getting to him. The next morning Andrew helped us cast off. We said our goodbyes on the dock and then we headed out. It was a beautiful day, clear sky with a light breeze out of the south. Perfect for where we were going, Bahía San Pedro, just to the north. We made our way out of the marina, then through the outer harbor and out into the Sea where we set our course and then raised our big gennicker. The sail went up smartly but started slatting right away, the big sail would fill nicely and then collapse only to snap open a moment later. We were sailing into a weird set of 2’ swells that were coming from the north and they were playing havoc with the gennicker. The swells must have been left over from yesterdays northerly winds and they were completely dwarfing today’s tiny wind driven waves from the south. BANG went the hull as it bumped into each steep wave and SNAP went our gennicker each time it filled again. Bang, snap, bang, snap, bang. I stood on the foredeck for a while marveling at the tenacity of those waves from yesterday and wondered how long it would take for today’s southerly wind to overcome them and the bang-snapping to go away. However long that would be, it wouldn’t be soon enough for me. Yesterdays wind energy was disturbing today’s peace. Then I thought back to yesterday and the conversation with Andrew, how Vietnam was still getting to him. Waves of energy and emotions still assailing him from 45 years ago. I then reflected upon how deep the Sea is, over a mile deep in many places and how deep seas seem to take longer to quell than shallower ones. Sail on my friend, may your waters calm and peace fill your soul again…
We spend a lovely week at beautiful San Carlos, first anchored off and later, a delightful five days in Marina San Carlos with some of the nice cruisers that we’ve ever met. The marina is tucked into a bay within a bay so has very secure and intimate feeling. When we fist arrived there was a moderate cross wind so we called on the cursers VHF channel and requested help docking. Some of our new neighbors immediately responded and said that they would be there for us and they were, three capable cruisers helped guide Malo safely into her slip. They have an unusual way of hauling boats out at this marina. They use a big trailer pushed by a tractor and a boat ramp. Once the boats are hauled out on the trailer they driven a short way down the coastal highway to a yard out in the desert. True dry storage. That’s Malo about six boats in form the end of the dock at the right had side of the above photo. In the mornings we SUPed around the picturesque harbors surrounding San Carlos. We also met a wonderful bunch of really nice folks in the marina. It’s interesting how in some marinas, not all, with the right mix of good folks a flowing community forms and tends to thrive, attracting other like minded sailors. We had some of our new friends over to Malo for a pot luck dinner one night and then we all went out to a near by Club de Capitanes for music and dancing. We also did the usual boat maintenance tasks that need to be done, relaxed, rested and enjoyed ourselves. Now we are ready for one last sail for this season. Tomorrow morning we will head to Bahaí San Pedro just up the coast a way for a few days before we head into Guyamas and have Malo hauled out of the water for the hurricane season.
t was an ordinary crossing of the Sea and it was an extraordinary crossing in that ordinarily, as in “usually”, this place is extraordinary. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a more continually scenic and beautiful place.
After taking on water at the marina dock and disposing of our trash we left the harbor under power. The wind didn’t come up until we cleared the 20 mile long Isla Carmen after a couple of hours motoring. We powered through a large mixed flock of sea birds made up mostly of pelicans, frigate birds and seagulls. We had seen them in the distance as we made our way north, diving like mad on what must have been a large school of fish. By the time we got to them, the diving and stealing (frigate birds tend to be great thieves) had stopped and all the birds were peacefully floating together on the water, digesting I presume.
Some dolphins showed up to taunt us with their supreme happiness and joy. These were quite a bit larger than any of the other dolphins that we’ve seen in Mexican waters so far. One thing that is interesting to me is that I have never, in my whole life, seen just one dolphin at a time. They have always been in the company of others. Their water based communities, pods being as small at two and as large as hundreds speaks of a interconnectedness that is similar to humans, with out real-estate development, corporations or countries. What they interestingly do have that human societies have developed, is social media, a relatively long distance network of communication between individuals and groups of dolphins. And they’ve had those networks millions of years longer than humans have. I wonder what it must be like to be so interconnected with ones community. Humanities subsequent generations are just starting to figure that out.
The sea remained flat as Mr. W (wind) slept in that morning which in turn gave Mr. Rumbly a work out but not too much. After two hours Mr. W started to stir, rousted himself, climbed out of bed and filled Malo’s sails with gentle fresh air.
All through the first day of our crossing we made our way under brilliantly blue, clear sky as we were propelled by light to moderate breezes out of the north. Then late in the day it lightened a bit and clocked around to the west setting us on the sweetest, gentle beam reach for the rest to the day and into the night. We had one of those sunrise/moonrises where the moon is coming up in the east just as the sun is setting in the west. The moon is so subtle, sublime and nuanced that it’s hard to capture her full glory while the sun, he’s showing off like a five year old who just got his hands on a big pack of fireworks. But finally, the sun, like all five year olds, soon tired and went down after one last burst of glory while the moon ascended to the throne of the skies with a graceful, elegant dignity. It was a difficult night aboard Malo. Bev wasn’t feeling well and when she isn’t feeling well, I don’t end up feeling well also. Such is the closeness and heightened connectivity that crews experience on a sailboat. Never-the-less, on a boat as in the theater, the show must go on. Watches were stood, sails were set, lowered, set again and trimmed. It was a night of light and variable winds. Never the less we did manage a couple of notable first. We did our first night time set, gybe and take down of our big gennicker and then I did my first ever solo gennicker set. It was thrilling to be sailing with all the power of that big sail under a brilliantly beautiful moon lit sky. After that long trying night the sun showed up, again gloriously bright and beautiful but also a bit more subtle and subdued too. Perhaps he’s learning something from the moon. She seemed to approve as she made her stately way toward the horizon, she did show a beautifully subdued hint of pink on her way out. Oh my… The sunrise revealed land off the starboard bow and to port too. The port side was the Baja which we’d been able to see since we left Puerto Escondido but now we could see the mainland side for the first time in the Sea. The Sea is narrow enough at this point (about 80 miles wide) to see both sides at once. We sailed a bit but mostly motored the rest of the day until we made our destination, Bahía Algondones just north of San Carlos. We dropped anchor in the lee of a small islet in 27’ of water, delighted to have our 148 nm passage behind us. It wasn’t an easy passage, we haven’t had many of those but it was a safe one, which (touch wood) all of our passages so far have been and for that I am deeply grateful.
