February 11 – 19, 2023
We made three stops along the way to Isla Carmen.
An overnight stop at Caleta Nopolo. We didn’t actually go ashore, but two things caught our eye from the cockpit.
One, we had read about. Just inside the entrance of the small cave along the shore we could see the remains of an old dugout canoe. Apparently over a hundred years old, it belonged to the man who founded the nearby village.
The second, had actually been a running joke for months.
Ever since arriving in the Gulf of California, I had joked that the landscape around us appeared to hold the perfect terrain for spotting burros. This had degenerated into an ongoing spoof with Kris almost every time I looked through the binoculars…
“Enough with the stupid fucking burros…”, was all I’d get from Kris any more. The joke had obviously run its course.
How sweet it was as I quietly scanned the hillside with the binoculars to have my eyes come to rest upon not one but — I shit you not — four burros.
I now joke that I fully expect to see the fossilized skull of a pterodactyl embedded in the rocks somewhere, but I’m not really holding my breath for that one.
Not quite thirty miles further up the coast lies Bahia Los Gatos, named for a family of pumas that used to live in the area.
Again, we didn’t go ashore. Just an overnight stop.
Nevertheless, within about five minutes of shutting off our engine after setting the anchor at Los Gatos, a local fisherman motored up.
His name was Rudolfo; a nice guy. Three meals worth of fresh fish? Filleted on the spot? Five bucks.
The third day started off looking like it would be a brilliant sail all the way to Isla Carmen, forty or so miles away.
Anticipating light winds, we had already rigged up the solent sail.
We even put up the main sail before lifting anchor. It had been a long time since that had happened. A short time later we were underway, with the engine off, moving solely under the power of the wind with our solent and main sails.
We had reefed the mainsail at anchor. Seemed like overkill at the time, but we were grateful when the winds kicked up later almost without warning.
Rounding a point near Agua Verde, the display on our wind indicator showed upwards of thirty knots (it was even higher that that factoring that, at the time, our boat speed sensor was not working which skewed the reading).
The relentless wind and depth variations at the point created waves and chop that nearly stopped our forward progress entirely. It quickly became obvious that continuing to bash into this would be stupid.
We cut our losses and turned Exit around. Better to sacrifice some time and diesel rather than potentially something more serious or permanent.
Arriving at Bahia Rancho Santa Marta after seven and a half hours and thirty one nautical miles. Incidentally, Bahia Rancho Santa Marta is only about ten miles north of our previous anchorage Los Gatos. The extra twenty one miles was spent arguing with wind, waves, inaccurate forecasts, and bad luck.
Ironically, the conditions were completely becalmed as we rolled into the bay. So it goes.
The following day we knew we had made the correct decision. We might still end up motoring but at least it wouldn’t be into thirty knot winds.
Our original plan had been to have a nice sleep-in followed by relaxing Valentine’s Day at anchor after waking up at Isla Carmen.
Shit happens.
Valentine’s Day underway. Not a bad alternative. The final stretch on the way to Isla Carmen. No sporty conditions today. No winds at all…at least to begin with.
As it turned out, Poseidon and Mother Nature had gotten together in advance and formulated a gift for us to commemorate our fortieth Valentine’s Day we were celebrating together.
Before too long a slight breeze had appeared; and suddenly, for the third day in a row, we were sailing. Holy shit! Neither of us could even recall that ever happening, much less when it was. If we weren’t careful, someone could mistake us for sailors.
Not only did we have a fabulous third day in a row of sailing (redemption from the frustrating previous day), we also ended up at what might as well have been our own private island in a bay we had all to ourselves…Punta Colorada on Isla Carmen – Parque Nacional Bahia de Loreto.
Happy Valentine’s Day to us.
The following day we still had a private bay…although that was short-lived. You’ve gotta enjoy it while you can.
Inevitably, others would follow.
Which is not necessarily a problem…as long as they followed the non-snugglers’ protocol.
Even someone else’s sailboat can enhance a beautiful sunset.
And while an overcast, cloudy day may not contribute to jaw-dropping colorful photos, it certainly can make for a more pleasant hiking conditions.
Hiking off-trail has its risks. Those risks can even be enhanced, especially when you are ill-equipped… say, with uhhhh, $14.95 cheapo shoes.
Stepping across a small gully of rocks, I managed to land squarely on a stick that was poking straight up.
There was a momentary panic of uncertainty.
The stick was not small. It had definitely penetrated clear through the sole of my shoe. I had felt it had pass through my foot. We were not an insignificant distance from the dinghy; even farther from Exit.
Only one way to find out how bad the situation really was.
It wasn’t a piece of re-bar stuck through my head or an arrow in my chest…
Facing away from me, Kris placed my foot between her knees and took hold of the stick. No countdown. No instructions to breathe out.
Just a quick jerk. Solid. No hesitation. Well done.
I expected a lot more pain. Kris threw the stick aside and said there was no blood.
Gingerly I pulled off my shoe; then my sock.
Amazingly, the stick had gone straight through the gap right at the base between my big toe and the next toe over. A glancing blow off both toes that would cause some painful bruising, but nothing more.
Luuuuuuucky. A potentially really messy situation averted by less than an inch. I was immediately demoted from trailblazer.
We have witnessed some truly spectacular sunsets and sunrises aboard Exit. It’s impossible to capture the intensity, colors, and sheer impact of something that covers the entire sky in an image.
You can try to convey the magic of the moment, but it always seems to fall short of the actual experience.
This was one of those sunrises.
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