PUNTA DE MITA TO LA CRUZ DE HUANACAXTLE
La Cruz de Huanacaxtle, Nayarit, Mexico; 12 December 2005

After a quiet night at anchor, we wake to the normal marine haze layer but with the sunshine trying to break through and, a couple of hours after sunrise, a freshening breeze coming over the isthmus. We see Ryan from S/V Godspeed out for his daily constitutional, lying on his newly-acquired surfboard and paddling along. He comes over and we chat for half an hour or so about what’s available ashore here and about our various cruising plans.

By the time he leaves the wind looks propitious and we decide to get cracking for La Cruz. Ryan told us that they had been there but went back to Punta de Mita because there were too many boats at anchor there and “red tide” as well. But it is twenty minutes shorter for the bus ride into Puerto Vallarta and we want to observe the Guadalupe fiesta, check our emails and buy some provisions.

I start winching in the 20 fathoms of anchor chain I laid out last night; it’s not possible to pull it in by hand since the wind is making the chain come up to the boat at a 45 ° angle. By winching slowly but steadily, I use the catenary of the chain to assist moving the boat forward towards the anchor. By the time I have recovered and stowed below some 10 fathoms, Kathy is in the cockpit and getting things ready there (unlash the tiller, stow loose items, get the GPS and depth sounder switched on and the engine ready to start in an emergency.

With the main already up but sheeted very loosely, we inch forward until we are directly over the anchor. At this point we back the mainsail a little, drive the boat slowly forward to break out the anchor and, this done, I switch to “arm power” to pull the anchor up the twenty feet still left, signal to Kathleen that the anchor’s aweigh, give a final heave to bring the anchor shaft up over the bow roller and lash it down to prevent it working its way overboard while we are sailing. Kathleen puts us over on a port tack and we begin to pick up speed. Now, this is more like it! Actual sailing! The waters ahead of us to the east into Banderas Bay and around the point about seven or eight miles in the distance toward La Cruz are rippled with signs of wind.

Kathleen as usual takes the first tiller watch. She is forced first to deal with fluky winds coming off the land; as soon as we leave the flat Punta de Mita, the winds start shifting around the mountain on shore. So instead of being on a broad reach we are close hauled and the boat has slowed considerably. We sheet in and head farther out from shore hoping to get a cleaner breeze. But no deal. Within the hour the wind has died to nearly nothing and is so light as to make it almost impossible to go to windward. The eight-mile voyage is threatening to take eight hours.

We finally give in and turn on the engine. This is really frustrating. It’s not that we love the wild and woolly winds-and-wave-surfing. But it would certainly be nice to have a sail instead of having to run our engine. It gets hot and it’s noisy, not to mention that diesel fuel costs money. Of course, I guess, so do sails. But when we are motorsailing our sails are up anyway, fully exposed to the UV rays and therefore deteriorating even though they are not much use to us except to steady the boat in swells.

I decide to drop the drifter since it is backing against the forestay and will be chafing. Aha! This is my chance to try out the re-configured downhaul that I rigged yesterday. Darn. That doesn’t work either; the first half of the sail drops of its own weight but there is still half of the sail still up and the downhaul doesn’t seem to be budging it. Back to the drawing boards. I go forward to the bowsprit and haul the sail down by hand and lash it down with a sail gasket.

An hour or so later we come around the point in La Cruz Bay. There are at least twenty cruising boats anchored off in tidy rows off the breakwall into the panga harbour. We park ourselves in twenty feet of reddish water and put out twenty fathoms of chain again before cracking a Pacifio, my reward for sweating it with the sails. I have learned enough about myself that if we do not immediately put on the sail covers, rig the awning while we are settling the boat, it will either not get done at all or I will find it hard to get started. The dinghy is launched and tied to the side as well.

We are not going ashore today even though it is only mid-afternoon. But tomorrow we shall head to Puerto Vallarta by bus. And anyway, we are in the final stages of our canasta Meisterschaft; Kathleen is up three rounds to two. Maybe I can lull her into a stupor with a fish chowder using the remaining two or three pounds of mackerel and five or six spuds we have left.


TO PUNTA DE MITA IN BAHIA BANDERAS; KATHLEEN LANDS A MACKERAL
Punta de Mita, Nayarit, Mexico; Sunday, 11 December 2005

The gentle rolling continued through the night. Everything was secured below and aloft and we are used to it. When we got up shortly after daylight, we decided that, although there was no wind, the chances of getting any wind were low anyway. We might as well get started. By 0900 we are chugging out of Chacala bound at last for Banderas Bay. Specifically we were going to round the first point into the bay today and drop anchor behind Punta de Mita. By Sunday we want to be in Santa Cruz Bay a little farther along so we can take the bus into Puerto Vallarta to see any celebrations connected with the Virgin of Guadalupe.

The day begins with grey marine haze but brightens a bit. But no wind. We motorsail along on glassy swells again until about 1400 when a bit of wind comes up and the waves begin to build. At the angle we are motorsailing we are rolling a bit but at least we are picking up some speed with the wind on the quarter. There is still however too little wind to allow us to make Punta de Mita by nightfall by sailing alone and there is no other anchorage in between. And anyway, we have the point already in sight, close enough to see the trees on the flat point and the huge swell breaking on the reef extending out to the south.

About an hour before we drop anchor, Kathleen catches a 31-inch Sierra Mackerel, a beautifully sleek fish with sharp teeth and lines of golden spots on its blue-tinged silvery skin. The pole almost leaps overboard when the fish strikes, Kathleen catching it just in time (on her arm!). With the engine still running at full the drag is enormous. This will tend to drown a fish but it makes it more difficult to bring it in. I come on deck, cut the revs back and, when Kathleen has the fish alongside, I lift the line, plop the fish onto the deck and fall upon it with the fish knife, sliding the blade into the gills to cut the jugular vein. Of course it flops around some more, splashing blood and allowing the hook to fall out of its mouth. I secure it on the lifeline so it won’t hook me instead and wait for the fish to expire fully. Kathleen watches out of the corner of her eye with an expression like she has just found a pork chop at the synagogue’s annual picnic. She can’t deal with this part of fishing; the catching and reeling in, yes; the eating, yes too. But not the killing. I won’t get into a discussion about the moral aspects of this; they are, shall we say, complex. Since we are now approaching Punta de Mita, I decide to leave fish cleaning until we are at anchor.

The cruising guides and the charts warn of a long reef sticking out from the point and two sets of semi-submerged rocks. But we had overheard a VHF discussion one morning in Mazatlán about the exact position of these rocks, several participants arguing that the coordinates in Charlie's Charts are incorrect. Someone had accurate ones issued by the marina in Puerto Vallarta. Fortunately Kathleen wrote the various co-ordinates down. Now we can see the reef clearly but not the rocks until suddenly, at a distance of about half a mile, we see a long and high breaker appear in the normal wave pattern, foaming and boiling and rising high at about ten o’clock off our port bow. This is the only visual indicator we are ever to get. We bear off immediately to the south and watch the various co-ordinates tick off on the GPS until are sure that we have passed safely. As we turn to round the point at a distance the wind has picked up and we are now motorsailing at about 6 knots.

The bay behind Punta de Mita is very broad, has wonderful beaches and, near the village, is lined with apartment buildings. Over near the point there is a golf course and expensive housing. Clearly this is not going to remote. The guide says there are some tiendas, etc. but we have decided to stay the night only and push on the final 8 Nm to another and smaller cove that is closer to Puerto Vallarta (known amongst cruisers here as PV).

There are already about nine sailboats at anchor and one large motor yacht. We spot Portia’s S/V Geneffa, Ryan’s S/V Godspeed, and DeMerit’s S/V Bingo. We douse the sails while motoring forward towards shore until we have passed all but one boat and drop the anchor in 24 feet (4 fathoms) of water. There is a breeze here and all the boats are pointing at the beach. But there is no fetch and therefore no waves although farther to the right waves coming around the point crash on the beach. Even though the anchor grabs in the sandy bottom, I let out 20 fathoms of chain so I can sleep at night.

We have hardly settled the boat for the night and I have received a can of Pacifico in my fist when I notice that Bingo’s inflatable dinghy has somehow got loose from where it is tied at the stern of the main boat and is now heading downwind and out to sea at a surprisingly fast clip. It would take at a minimum fifteen minutes to launch our dinghy parts from the foredeck, bolt them together and row after the inflatable so I yodel and call out Bingo’s name as loud as I can hoping the crew will hear me at the several hundred metres distance. A head pops up through the forward hatch and I shout and point to their dinghy. The head withdraws and a moment later a surfboard is launched from the stern, a body jumps overboard and onto the board and start paddling to catch up with the dinghy. Eventually he gets aboard it, just about the time a motorised dinghy arrives on the scene from one of the other boats. All’s well that ends well, though I think I have earned a free beer.

The rest of the evening is spent preparing the fish, first cleaning and cutting fillets. I am getting to be a dab hand at this and it is done in no time. For dinner I steam two large sweet potatoes in the pressure cooker and when they are done, I heat the Teflon pan for five minutes and sear large chunks of mackerel until they are brown on the outside and light pink inside. With fresh lime juice the taste is sensational. The last piece gets left for breakfast when we make tacos with chopped up mackerel with plenty of lime juice. The second half of the fish still represents about 5 pounds of meat and will be turned into smoked fish chowder for tomorrow’s main meal.

Kathleen beats me in canasta again.

TO CHACALA; HUMPBACK WHALES
Chacala, Nayarit, Mexico; Saturday, 10 December 2005

The trip down to Chacala from San Blas was almost totally uneventful. We have come to expect either very light winds with a northerly component or no wind at all. We always get the mainsail up to reduce the rolling for the Pacific swells are always present to a degree. About 1230 a breeze came up and we hoisted the drifter and staysail as well. Within the hour the breeze had died again and we were once more left motorsailing along with the mainsail in what was basically a wonderful day. Just not a real sailing day.

Humpback whales

The only interest along the 35 Nm route is a herd (flock, gaggle, flight?) of humpback whales that we first see blowing ahead of us in the distance but which eventually cross our bow from port to starboard at a distance of about 100 yards. They are cruising along peacefully feeding and, unless there is a dolphin mixed in there somewhere, there is at least one young one with the group.

Humpbacks are the whales that put on the fabulous shows of springing out of the water and crashing back after a one and one-half gainer, an Immelmann Roll and a wave whilst singing haunting Judy Collins’ songs. We don’t see or hear any of this, however. In fact, although they are awesomely close, until they are right beside us we see only their blow-spray, and their tails and humpbacks as they surface. These characteristics and their very dark-to-black colour are enough, though, for us to be able to identify them using the sketches in the cruising guide. Finally, as they pass so close to us one of the adults raises its whole fore-body out of the water so that we see its head and stove-bolt-encrusted head and jaws.

Off they swim in a densely-packed group. They seem almost to be touching each other. When last seen they are headed straight to a panga fisherman about half a mile away. No doubt he is used to whales in his fishing area. But if I saw these monsters heading right toward me I might start rowing. Even though we saw whales up close in Alaska, these giants are impressive. This is the closest I think that we have ever been to them

Just before 1500 we identify the point of land with the gantry-tower lighthouse and head into shore. As Chacala Cove opens to us we see six sailboats already at anchor including S/V Adios (Ray and Jane) along with S/V Alaii Hoa (spelling; Alexander and Sue) whom we met in Isla Isabel. S/V Che Bella out of San Diego is also there; we met briefly in Puerto Escondido last spring just as we arrived. Of the six boats, only one has a dinghy tied to its side; on the west end of the long, curving sandy beach however, there are five inflatable dinghies pulled up above the surf.

The cove is delightful and the first fully tropical-looking place we have seen. Everywhere there are palm trees. Even the high hills are covered with them because it is a coconut plantation. At the beach level the palms are very tall. With the exception of the sandy beach and the houses, everything is lushly green. A concrete panga dock is just under the point at the west end of the bay under the lighthouse.

The beach is lined cheek by jowl with palm-thatched palapas, some of them quite big, one of them even with thatched dormer windows inserted in the roof. Clearly this is a beach community. But it is by no means as shabby and uninteresting as, say, San Carlos. It is small and a little remote. There are a few dozen houses in the village, most of them moderate-sized holiday houses or apartment buildings. There are of course, the usual few trophy houses and these are dotted along the coast to the southeast as well. Only one or two of them are complete eyesores, fortunately.

We are not planning to go ashore, this being simply a stop on the way to Puerto Vallarta. The view from the boat is probably better than the view from the plastic chairs in the palapas. We set the anchor in about 25 feet of water amongst the other sailboats. I notice that they are all facing into the light swells and then notice that they all have stern anchors out to keep them from rolling. In normal circumstances I might consider doing this too. But the swells are slow and not very high as they are refracted around the point. I decide to try it without a stern anchor.

We continue our canasta tournament but, after being shellacked in the first two rounds I reckon it is time for a nap. For dinner we eat the BBQ chicken that we had bought in San Blas and open the bottle of “wine” that Laila left us as a farewell gift before she left on the La Paz-Tompolobampo ferry. A Baja California speciality (an area not particularly noted for its wine-growing), it tasted, shall we say, interesting; more like a Kräuterlikör than a wine. We enjoyed it anyway. Beer is the main drink in Mexico or, aboard S/V Vilisar, “B-Light” sugar-free, kool-aid-type drinks. So it is a change at least. The evening is spent reading.