PROVIDING ENTERTAINMENT FOR THE ANCHORAGE
Melaque, Jalisco, Mexico, Saturday, 11 February 2006

As if it were not enough to be swamped under the puzzled stares of Mexican beach-goers while I was rowing ashore a day or two ago, I have now been able to provide a soupcon of amusement for the cruising boats anchored here in Melaque.

Two nights ago the swells during the night continued quite large. There was no wind and Vilisar spent the night lying broadside to the swells and rolling around. This in itself does not usually bother me or keep me from sleeping. No matter what I did with the dinghy, however, - stream it off astern, tether it to the side of the boat with fenders – no matter what I did, the dinghy would bang irregularly and loudly against the hull and wake me up. I would go on deck and try to arrange things so there would be no more noise and, returning below, try to get back to sleep. No luck. No matter what I attempted, it failed and the noise ruined my night’s sleep.

During the sleepless night I resolved to set a stern anchor the next morning. The problem in the Malarkey anchorage is that the swells come refracted around the rocky point and wind up moving under your boat toward the beach at an entirely different angle their original direction of travel and at a different angle as well from the wind that originally caused them. Although the swells are generally small and benign, I never leave the boat without dogging everything down as if I were putting to sea. I do not want to return from shore to the boat and find the drawers emptied onto the floor and the galley things thrown around.

The wind is usually weak in the mornings even if there is still surf running. In fact Vilisar was lying pointed at the beach with the swells coming up under her stern. But, by the time I had collected up all my ropes, freed the 20-pound Danforth anchor from the lazarette hatch where it normally lives (it has only been used once before and that several years ago, and was of course jammed in place by a lot of other stuff), reorganised the lazarette contents while I was about it (so, that’s where that hacksaw went! And there’s the small can of marine enamel I was looking for last autumn!), found appropriate hardware and tools such as shackles, thimbles, mousing wire, and pliers, shackled the line to the anchor, tied one end of the anchor rode to a heavy stern bit, attached a small floating buoy and a light line to the head of the anchor by way of a tripping line and marker buoy, hung the Danforth over the stern of the dinghy, and coiled the rode and the trip line in the bottom of the dinghy in a manner that would allow everything to flow out without turning all into a cats paw, - as I say, by the time I had done all these things a sea breeze had sprung up and swung Vilisar around so she is lying and rolling bow to the wind by across the swells.

Nothing daunted, I row out in the direction of the swells, drop the anchor in about 20 feet of water throwing the trip line and buoy after it. Rowing back to the Vilisar, I go aboard and begin to winch in the stern-anchor rode in between gusts of wind. I eventually get Vilisar pointing back toward the beach. But I have winched in so much anchor rode that the stern of the boat is essentially now directly over the stern anchor. This will not do. Obviously I shall have to bend on another line. I dive into the lazarette again (Hey! Here’s the solar shower!) and come up with another length of ½-inch braided line that I attach to the first one. I row back out, pull up the Danforth, bend on the second line, and head back out to sea trailing the now much longer rode. I repeat the anchoring sequence and head back to Vilisar. By now the wind is quite strong and I am unable to pull in the anchor rode against it and therefore to swing the boat against the wind but in line with the swells. I decide to wait until later in the day when the winds frequently shift around to come straight off the beach (and directly against the swells; I hope you are following this because there will be a Pop Quizz in the morning and, yes, it counts on the final!). I decide that I should let Mother Nature assist me and I go back to painting the deck.

About 1400 the wind has shifted. Vilisar’s bow anchor chain is stretched a bit and the boat has moved back on its bow-anchor rode. I get into the dinghy, row the Danforth anchor out aft in the direction of the swells and drop it once again. Back on Vilisar I soon have the rode pulled in and the anchor set. I snub everything off wondering if the line is actually strong enough. Oh well, what’s the worst that can happen? The rolling has stopped and Vilisar now only bobs up and down from stern to bow. Much more comfortable now, and I feel quite smug for having it done all basically for the first time, alone, and under the curious eyes of my boating neighbours.

I go ashore for a couple of hours. When I get back around 1800 Vilisar is still pointed at the beach and nodding contentedly. I go off to have dinner aboard Veleda with Jens, Alice and Steven along with Rod, Morgan and Cary from Maestra del Mar. Veleda is being very thoughtful seeing as both Charlotte of Maestra del Mar and Kathleen of Vilisar are both away for a while. “Feed my sheep!”

When I return to Vilisar about 2200 there is a full moon overhead to turn everything silvery. Although late in the day, the sea breezes are still blowing quite strongly from Vilisar’s port side while the swells are still coming from astern. Belowdecks I hear the stern-anchor rode giving off strange complaining noises when there is a gust of wind or when one of the swells is larger than normal. I put the groaning noises at about a G under Middle C. About an hour after returning, the rode parts with a “twang” (roughly about Middle C) and Vilisar swings slowly back around into the wind and broadside again to the swells. “We” begin to roll.

I resolve not to try and recover the anchor at night. It is buoyed and has s trip line so I don’t have to worry about it drifting away (anchors seldom to that, in fact). Nor will I have to dive for the Danforth. Thank goodness I put that buoy and trip line on it! Fortunately, my efforts to fender off the dinghy have paid off and it does not keep me awake all night.

This morning after coffee and before the wind has sprung up, I go out after the anchor. It was the light line that parted in the night: the relatively light Danforth (20 lbs.) has held really well. It has really set into the sandy mud on the bottom and it is a struggle to get it broken out and up to the dinghy. I decide that I need to put a bigger line on the buoy too since, if it parts while I am trying to break out the anchor I shall be in trouble. When that anchor surfaces it is heavy with mud. I clean the flukes off a bit and hang the anchor over the stern, pulling in the 100 feet or so of ½=inch line that came up with it and coiling it roughly in the dinghy before rowing back.

By now the wind has sprung up again and Vilisar is athwart the swells once more. Oh well! Mas tarde! On board I dig around in the anchor locker to find two 1-inch nylon mooring lines that I tie together with bowlines. I fit a stainless steel thimble to one end and shackle that end to the shank of the anchor. In the bitter end I tie a loop and drop it over the heavy Samson post near the cockpit and run the line out through the big bronze chalk. When the afternoon wind comes I shall only need row out and repeat yesterday’s performance. I am getting rather god at it.

I notice about this time that various cruising skippers have been watching me and wondering, of course, what on earth (or sea) I have been doing. Since I need to return some things to Rod on Maestra del Mar and Jack on Bella Via, I row around for a chat and to discuss various anchoring techniques. Of course, I am not really getting my painting finished. But this little cove is giving me a lesson or two about seamanship. Make your stern line much longer than you think you will need, and make the stern line as strong as your bow rode. Jack adds that I under no account should I use a chain attachment for a stern anchor. It is far too difficult to deal with in the dinghy when you row out and far too heavy to trail after you: you won’t be able to row far enough out because the weight of the chain will be too great. Nylon rode is best because it stretches and acts as a shock absorber. On the way back I stop near Steve and Bunky to tell them what has been going on. New cruisers should know that anchoring, mooring, and docking are basically spectator sports.

I do finally also get my non-skid painting done. When the wind has shifted to come from the beach again this afternoon, I will reset the stern anchor.


WHAT TO DO NOW? FROM THIS POINT IT GOES DOWNHILL; CRUISING TO ECUADOR; CHICA PERDITA
Melaque, Jalisco, Mexico, Tuesday, 07 February 2006

My painting and maintenance work on Vilisar is approaching a temporary end. Soon I can start stowing the paints and brushes and thinners, etc. back into the lazarette hatch or in the chest under the cockpit seat. When that happens I have no excuse for not sailing somewhere. As a “cruiser”, of course, I do not have to justify not going anywhere or not doing anything. On the other hand however, as a “voyager” I should be heading somewhere. The farther south I get the shorter will be Kathleen’s bus ride from the aeroporto in Mexico City. But there are a couple of overnight passages and my inertia is winning out. And this is after all a nice place to be.

We were sorry to hear that, due to a critical illness in the family, our friends from Evanston will not be coming to Acapulco at the end of March. Kathleen’s mother and sister will be there earlier. Maybe our friends from Ontario will make it down too before we push offshore for Ecuador. As far as sailing goes, I can wait until Kathy gets back and we can sail together to Acapulco.

After spending a couple of hours painting non-skid on caprail and aft deck this morning, I decide to row around the anchorage to visit and to find a sink plunger I can borrow to deal with my plugged-up galley sink - probably from throwing coffee dregs down there. Spent some time aboard S/V Star Path (Doug and his son, Wes, who is visiting from Alberta) and then talked to Steve and Bunky on their junk rig.

Star Path, built in Costa Rica, is very beautifully laid out with lots of varnished wood belowdecks. He wants some advice on how to perk up the varnished surfaces in the head; they are looking faded either from the sunlight coming through the open deck-hatch, or from the steam of the shower, or perhaps even from both. All the woodwork belowdecks is varnished and looks great except in the head (water and sunshine). Varnishing should not normally take much work inside since it only has to be renewed every few years or even less frequently since it is not exposed to the elements. But, in the head, he will have now to strip the old stuff, some of which is now also stained, and start from scratch (or scuff). Once he has ten coats of varnish on there he will not have to touch it again for years. On deck where he also has quite a bit of brightwork, however, he will have to expend some regular and frequent effort to keep things looking nice. I promised Doug to bring a couple of books over dealing with varnishing since he has no experience with this at all.

I personally think varnish looks great. But I myself use Cetol, a synthetic substitute because it lasts longer, needs no sanding between coats, and only a light scuffing up with a scratchy pad before applying it after a longer interval. It looks a little artificial or plastic-like and orangey to my eye. But it definitely looks good enough, provides good UV protection, and does not have to be renewed as often or babied as much as old-fashioned varnish. More importantly, Kathleen likes Cetol better than varnish. What else needs to be said?

When I arrive at Steve’s boat, he is at work making new sail covers for his junk sails. Interestingly, he has designed a sling that is attached to the lower-most batten of the sail and is held up by lazy jacks on either side of the flaked-down sails like a pouch. The sail is hoisted up between the lazy jacks, the sail coming right out of the sling; the latter hangs down out of the way while the sail is in use. When the sail is doused it falls into the cradle made up of the sling cum cover. No need to install twisties or stow the covers belowdecks when not in use. Steve opined that the system would work well with Vilisar’s rig. You never know what you will learn when you visit another boat.

From this point it goes downhill

So far the day has gone fairly well. I am due in Barra de Navidad at 1600 to meet the people off S/V Our Tern, who have recently arrived back from two years in Central America and Ecuador/Galapagos. I row back to Vilisar, get a bite to eat for lunch and, about 1300, head for shore in the dinghy. From this point the day goes temporarily downhill. There is surf running but nothing spectacular as I approach the beach. Under the expressionless gaze of several Mexican families, I turn around in the dinghy so I am facing the bow with the waves coming up behind me. I let several pass underneath me until I think the next set will be smaller, less likely to thrown me around. As one swell passes under me I start to row as fast as I can to ride it to shore. It might look small but it sweeps the dinghy much farther up the beach than previous waves appeared to be going. Suddenly the boat grounds in the sand and I am thrown forward. For some reason there is a set of three small but pernicious waves close together. The first wave having grounded me, the second hit the sterns with a splash that sloshes up and inboard and causes the dinghy to ride forward even more while slewing and leaning heavily to starboard and throwing me off balance just as I am trying to scramble out. At this point the third waves hits and really tips the boat to starboard, dumping me half into the muddy water, filling the dinghy with sand and water up to the seat and then, adding insult to injury, tries to suck the boat back out to sea with it. I manage to get my footing in the water and hold onto the dinghy for dear life. I drag the boat up onto the beach out of reach of successive waves. I am soaked from top to bottom though my sombrero is still dry and in place. The stuff I am carrying ashore I fortunately placed in a couple of plastic grocery bags before I left; this has kept them fairly though not perfectly dry. I consider returning to the Vilisar for dry clothing. But the day is warm and there is a nice breeze. I shall be dry in an hour or so. I pull out all the items and make sure they are dried off and then continue along the beach towards town. Maybe I have been getting too much sun but this has all depressed me. By the time I reach Barra by a local bus that pokes along through the barrios my cloths are almost dry and I am feeling a bit better. A cold beer while I talk with Vaughn and Natalie of S/V Our Tern does a lot to pick me up.

Cruising to Ecuador

There are several other people at the little get-together, principally Jens, Alice and Steven of S/V Veleda, and Al and his wife from S/V Morova. Vaughn provides us with information on a disc about Ecuador, Central America, and Galapagos. There is as yet no cruising guide for Ecuador so he and a few other cruisers made up one that includes entry requirements, facilities and navigation information (waypoints, anchorages, and the like). It also gives the latest information on cruising permits for Ecuador.

I am pleased to hear it when Natalie says that, were they to plan the trip again, they would go from Mexico to Ecuador for the northern summer and only return to Central America in the northern winter. They summered in Costa Rica, Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua, and Panama and barely survived the heat and humidity. Bahia de Caráquez in Ecuador, on the other hand, was like Mexico at this time of year (i.e. mid-winter): temperate. On top of this, Ecuador is very inexpensive as a place to live and travel and quite safe both on land and on the water. It is, of course, well out of the hurricane belt. They definitely recommend visiting Central America but not in the summer. It is too hot to do anything but stay in the shade.

Since there are several items on the disc about getting the proper cruising permits for the Galapagos, I immediately go to an internet café when I get back to Melaque and sent the relevant files to Kathleen in Germany. She is working on the permits.

Chica perdita

It is early evening but already dark while I am in the internet café. Like all the tiendes here, the front is open to the busy evening sidewalk scene. Near me a young American couple are sending and receiving email. They have a five-year-old daughter with them. At some point they realise the little girl is no longer in the shop. They rush out to the sidewalk and call her, first loudly and then panic-stricken. They begin to rush up and down the sidewalk looking in shops and calling her name. The young mother is instantly in tears and rushes into the internet café stridently ordering the young man running it to, “Call the police! Call the police right now!” The rest of us decide it is time we got involved too and try to get the mother to give us a description: “Small, five years old, pink bathing suit, dark hair.” That could be any of dozens of kids around here, of course. But I head back up the dark side street, asking women tending outdoor cooking stations and in little backstreet shops about a “chica perdita”. They have not seen her but start asking their little kids (many of who are female, about five years old and with dark hair).

After about twenty minutes, the father locates his daughter, who has taken a little sightseeing trip up to the corner and across the street and is playing with something in one of the souvenir shops and carrying on a cheerful conversation with the shopkeeper. All’s well that ends well. There were lots of people around and there was little or no traffic on the well-lit street.

I asked the mother a bit later after she had composed herself what exactly she most feared. She answered unhesitatingly, “Kidnapping! Perverted men!” Curiously, it was not being hit by a car or wandering off to the beach and being swept out to sea by one of the bigger waves and the undertow or even just looking around in the shops like everybody else around there. The Mexicans in the café are a little puzzled. But there are lots of people around and nothing much would happen to the kid, they think aloud. Are things so bad in America?

I remember when the mother of my children moved to New Orleans, she would not let the kids even play out on the veranda for fear of drive-by shootings and kidnappings. Forget about going to the park to play! There are of course horror stories about young girls being kidnapped. But statistically they are nowhere near as frequent as our fired-up imaginations believe. Children in big cities to the north are far more endangered if they are riding in car. Child abusers are mainly family members, male or female. I am not sure either that I like the fear that women automatically express about men, i.e. that we are all potentially abusers, beaters, sex-offenders. I guess since most people in Canada and the U.S.A. experience life outside their isolated suburban environment (single-family swelling, air-conditioned, locked up cars moving through the conurban sprawl, etc.) through television and since TV tends to focus on the shocking, child abuse, kidnappings, gruesome murder, that’s what they expect. Underneath their secure and cushy lives they have an underlying fear of begin attacked. There is a racist element to this too since white Americans subconsciously fear black men as well.

It all seems pretty sick from this distance. I am not saying that there is no abuse or violence in Mexico. Of course there is. So either you believe that suburban Americans are much more realistic and are not really as schizophrenic as I think they are. In that case, too, you have to believe Mexicans are only less stressed out about these things because either their society is less dangerous, or Mexicans are totally out of touch with reality.

“This blindness has affected US policy from prewar planning until today. It fails to see the humiliation that Iraqis feel every day at the sight of foreign troops. It ignores the anger produced by mass arrests, heavy-handed searching, night-time raids and excessive civilian deaths. It overlooks Iraqi suspicions about long-term US intentions, whether it is "control over our oil" or maintaining permanent bases. The insurgency will not just fade away. If Washington and London say otherwise they are producing one more lie in the catalogue of deception that has characterised this war. Only a process of negotiations can bring peace, as the British think tank Oxford Research Group argued this week in a blueprint for a settlement.”

-Jonathan Steele in The Guardian, 2006 01 16