Going North despite Northers

After the quietest night ever for New Year’s Eve (not even the sound of lapping against the hull) we woke to a brisk expected west wind and pulled anchor.  Setting the main sail and Code Zero (screecher), we sailed NORTH, which is an unexpected gift in the Sea during these winter prevailing winds.  We gladly accepted this gift for a couple of hours of sailing, Cora and I on the bow laughing and counting leaping rays and frigate birds.  I even took a passage sun shower on the back step. 

Anchor down at Mangle Solo (Isla San Jose) at sunset in front of a cardon cactus forest for the night, knowing that we needed to keep heading north early the next morning before the next Norther came in.  As Cora has observed, “We are always talking about weather and finding a safe place for the next system.”  Yes, she is right, as we head north into the Sea, checking Predict Wind twice daily using Starlink.  We take advantage of (very) rare south winds and calm days to get north and hunker down for the next Norther in some lovely anchorage.  Northers are wintertime blows in the Sea of Cortz, which last for days to a week, bringing cool temperatures and moderate to strong winds of 20-30 knots.  There’s a reason many cruisers are further south or on the mainland, but we are drawn to wild quiet places.  Up early to head out, but not early enough, as we found ourselves struggling with anchor bridle tangles and knots (the bridle connects the anchor line to the two bows so it stays in the center and decreases the strain).

As we found ourselves in a bit rollier seas, we were disheartened that we had lost our sea legs, happily tucking into our next anchorage Bahia San Carlos (Timbabiche) in only 12 feet of water with much room for dragging if needed.  A bit of swell wrapped around, rolling us in this beautiful backdrop of the striated Sierra de la Giganta mountain range; kids and I did school, Chris took a siesta, then we went to shore to explore. 

There is so much hiking here, along the beach and rocky cliffs, as well as a large estuary we only just dipped into. 

School the next morning (currently learning about earthquakes and ocean currents) over peach crisp before finding our hiding hole for the Norther coming in. 

Wove between reefs and tucked into Bahia Aqua Verde at sunset.  We hoped this would be a good place to hide out, but also were secretly driven by our lack of beer and reports of a small tienda and beach restaurant here.  Cora questioned, “Are you sure this is the best anchorage or are we just going here for beer?”  Well…  it turned out to be a great calm anchorage AND had beer and margaritas!  Setting anchor at night, the waters were alive with the splash of fish; I couldn’t tell the difference between the phosphorescence of leaping fish and the stars reflecting in the water. 

Over to the small village the next day, tucked among palms and dusty roads, we bought warm tortillas at the Tortilleria and fresh produce at a tienda tucked on a family’s property with chickens running about. 

After the next morning of water-making and laundry, we walked to town and enjoyed a dinner out of fish tacos and margaritas; a total treat for a night out of the galley! 

Our next day’s adventure was enjoyed with another boat family and our rental dogs for the day, as we always seem to adopt a few Mexican dogs along the way much to Cora’s delight. 

Off on a trail to an old cemetery, vultures circling ominously overhead, then down a sandy path to an unexpected “oasis” of palm trees leading to the beach, feeling a bit “Indiana Jones” as we pushed through the dead palm fronds, trying to ignore visions of snakes and scorpions in my head. 

Trekked down the beach in search of reported cave paintings but got too late and didn’t make it up the hillside into the cave – a challenge for next time!  The winds calmed overnight and, after a leisurely breakfast in the cockpit, we were underway in calm seas.  I had been reading about various cliff formations along the way and a funny moment was when Chris declared, looking toward shore, “Look, I see a road on that mountain,” to which I responded, “Look, I see the Hand of God!”  He said, “Okay, you win.”  I had just spotted an amazing hand-like hand formation known locally as Manos de Dios (Hand of God). 

We anchored in the middle lobe of Honeymoon Cove (Isla Danzante) with plans to get up early the next day to scoot over to Puerto Escondido where we had a mooring ball reserved for two nights for the next Norther and to pick up Grandparents. 

We were gifted with nature of both large and small wonders; first seeing our first blue whale, then a tiny peeking jawfish in a hole at the beach – joy from the biggest mammal on Earth to a small peek-a-boo fish. 

Winds came in early, our boat too close to shore; we had to anchor with winds and waves howling, and declared, “The Honeymoon is over!” Cruising is filled with wonders of all sizes, moments of bliss, and moments of stress; changing minute by minute. 

I end with a quote that I read while underway today among the wild things:  “I sat, stirred by a memory of something beautiful and ancient and now lost – a forgotten freedom we must all once have shared with other wild things, which only they and the wilderness can still recall to us, so that life becomes again, for a time, the wonderful, sometimes frightening but fiercely joyous adventure it was intended to be (Martha Reben, A Sharing of Joy).”