Turning Our Bow South

We now turn our bow south for the next leg of this journey, our next major provisioning stop on mainland Mexico in a couple weeks.  We also start more intense preparation for our upcoming passage across the South Pacific.  Our time here in the Sea of Cortez is coming to a close, as I marvel at the wildlife and geology that we’ve been immersed in – “The very air here is miraculous (John Steinbeck, The Log from the Sea of Cortez).”  We make a list of the jobs we would like done before we cross to mainland Mexico, but have to get done before we start our Pacific Ocean crossing.  For Chris, his list includes installing bilge alarms (that go off if we take on water), installing our PFD AIS system (our personal overboard system fitted to our life jackets that sound an alarm if one goes overboard), fixing (or replacing) a leaky above-water through hull, lubing up our blocks and sheaves, inspecting all systems, and more.  My list includes provisioning and organizing these provisions, planning school for the next few months while underway (some creative leaning on an ocean passage), and planning our Port of Entry and ensuring all the paperwork is set to enter French Polynesia.  The kids continue on with school, their daily boat chores, learning all the workings of the boat, and scrubbing the hull.

However, we continue to enjoy this work in beautiful locations, taking time for shoreside exercise excursions.  Anchored off the south side of Isla Coronado for two nights with Kaaluna (Chris & Kim); kids eager to learn knotwork (Turk’s Head, lanyard knots, and wraps).  It warms our hearts to have boating friends from our 20’s now teaching our children mariner’s knots, so generous and actively engaged with them. 

We’ve ordered the line for Calder and Cora to wrap our steering wheel.  We enjoyed a sunset hike, the white sandspit contrasted with the dark lava rock and turquoise waters. 

We spent the next day hiking to the top of the 928 foot volcanic cone, 5 miles roundtrip, learning new desert plants together, watching a Costas Hummingbird sip from the red flowers of the deceptively dead-appearing Palo Adan tree with its stark branches. 

Snacks at the top were well-deserved, the views amazing.

Moved around the north end of Isla Carmen the next day, tucking into previously-visited Bahia Salinas for the expected 48 hour Norther. 

A blue whale’s long body and spout were a treat before it dove, displaying an enormous fluke.  The painted cliffs were stunning, and blue-footed boobies soared above. Upon arrival, we spilled out onto the beautiful white sand shore for the afternoon, knowing that we would be “stuck” aboard for the next 2 days, listening to the wind howl and watching our anchor.  We were quite happy with our decision to anchor here in the sand with lots of room to swing.  The winds howled up to a max of 37 knots, but we stayed cozy and safe, working through school and cleaning the boat.   One of the trampolines (the two nets at the front of a catamaran) has decayed over time in the sun and we measured and ordered new ones, not wanting an unexpected fall into the water below. 

Unfortunately, we found a through hull (above water thankfully) leaking and Chris tore out many layers of saturated plywood in the bottom of a cabinet; another major project discovered to tackle before our crossing, which I titled simply “salt-water intrusion” on his growing list. 

At anchor, the waves hitting the boat at night exploded in phosphorescence.  The wind wound its way up our drain, bubbles from our handwashing soap filling the sink.  Sleep at anchor during a blow means anchor and position checks, bits of sleep between gusts.  Chris continued to work on installing bilge alarms and delved into the book “Heavy Weather Sailing.” 

Cora made me a friendship bracelet of ocean blue, sand tan, and sun gold to represent our time in the Sea of Cortez, while Calder continued his one Turk’s knot daily.

The next day…calm!  Ran around on the sandy beach before heading to nearby Punta Colorada to meet up with another kid boat, Mrs.Chippy with their 5 children. 

Boats like ours are called “kid boats” or “teen boats” and we have various networks on No Foreign Land and WhatsApp to connect us, often seeking each other out so kids have a chance to hang out.  I had reached out to them the week prior and we all made it happen.  We dinked into a sea cave where we looked above us to see fossilized sand dollars, then to shore for a beach fire and visiting, Calder stoked to go out with the boys for night fishing. 

After a breakfast visit with Mrs. Chippy (thanks for the cinnamon rolls Jill), we pulled anchor and found a tiny friend – a baby octopus no bigger than our pinky nail had taken a ride up our anchor chain, crawling around in our palm.  Underway, Calder caught two skipjack tuna, letting one go and the other turned into delicious tuna poke that we shared with the Taylors for dinner. 

We continued south along the beautifully striated Sierra de la Giganata range finding ourselves in our two favorite anchorages thus far in the Sea – Punta San Telmo (Punta Prieta) and Puerto Los Gatos. 

The red smoothed rocks dipped into the turquoise seas with dramatic layers of painted mountains in greens, browns, and rusts in the background; it was a sensory overload that we played and worked in for the next few days. 

We lept over and climbed rocks and ledges from beach to beach, flopped in the sand, and enjoyed a beach fire (until a scorpion crawled out of our wood).  

We found a piece of dropped cholla cactus, planted it in a jam jar and named it Mango. We hung out with another Alaska boat and we both proudly flew our Alaskan flags.  Chris successfully installed our bilge alarms and fixed our dinghy engine, and I set up school for the next month.  Cora finished her 6^th grade math this week, getting a 99% of her final, and will be moving on to 7^th grade Pre-Algebra.  I’ve also just completed my 2 year Integrative Medicine Fellowship and am doing some weekly Integrative Telemedicine visits (more on this soon).  So, we’ve been busy with work and play!

Reading the blog of our friends’ boat the night before they left for their Pacific Crossing, we find ourselves contemplative about the big crossing ahead of us in one month…so much to do…will we be ready?  Can one ever truly be ready for an adventure like this?