December 1, 2022 – February 1, 2023
Isla Espirítu Santo is about thirty nautical miles north of La Paz; ten miles beyond the mainland point. It is the largest of three islands, uninhabited except for a park ranger station. Smaller Isla Partida, separated by a sandy spit and shallow channel, is just to the north; and Los Islotes, a small group of rocks and home to a sea lion rookery, lies just beyond that.
As far as a day of sailing, the journey to Isla Espirítu Santo provided no joy. Nevertheless, that was a minor detail in the big picture. We were back on the move, even if we were motoring, and that was more than enough to put a smile on our faces.
Furthermore, upon reaching Isla Espirítu Santo, there would be no denying the one joy that absolutely does accompany a three hour motor…hot water.
The following morning, as the sun began to rise, the surface of the water was so still it provided one of those rare symmetrical mirror-like moments between the sea and sky.
Absolute tranquility.
As it turned out, our first trip to Espirítu Santo was a bit of a false start.
On one hand, we were chomping at the bit to get moving somewhere. On the other, we only had a week before we expected the new Starlink equipment we had just ordered to arrive at Marina de La Paz.
Once we got to Espirítu Santo, a series of quite windy days prevented us from doing much exploring.
Consequently, much our first visit was highlighted by time spent shivering in the cockpit, enjoying unbelievable sunsets, and engaging in typical boat life activities and adventures – for instance, persuading a rather endearing bat that, in fact, it had not found the perfect new cave to take up residence in below deck.
Despite our longing to keep going, we turned around after only a week. Our return south meant that on Christmas Eve we were treated to the glittering lights of La Paz’s waterfront. Thankfully, the holiday lights did not include snow.
Turns out, this year, Santa may have been driving a Tesla. Starlink had arrived for Christmas.
To those who have ever struggled with trying to painstakingly wade through overly complicated manuals which have been incomprehensibly translated from Chinese, I present to you: the Starlink assembly instructions.
And then Elon looked down from on high and said, let there be light...off and on; but let there be internet…always.
And then there was internet. And it was good.
Exiting La Paz – Take Two…
…there would be no stopping us this time.
It could be unanticipated stowaways.
It could be no wind.
It wouldn’t matter.
Once again, it appeared we had broken free of the gravitational pull of distractions. We were back at Isla Espirítu Santo.
It was the opposite of a Times Square New Year’s Eve for us. Only two people at anchor in Ensenada El Cardonal…us. The only flashing lights…a single navigation marker across on the mainland miles away.
2023 arrived quietly.
Any visit from our dolphin friends is always a welcome moment. If having the new year ushered in by dolphins qualifies as a good omen, seeing a whale should make one incredibly optimistic. And while the whale encounter was a fleeting glimpse from a distance, the dolphins stuck around to play.
With the arrival of January, came an open slate and, once again, infinite possibilities.
We straddled the new year bouncing between a handful of bays, anchorages, and coves – Caleta El Candelero, Bahia El Empachado, Ensenada El Cardonal, Ensenada Raza.
Each one was a unique study in geology, vulcanology, and mixology.
Despite the arid and inhospitable environment, the landscape continued to provide an absolutely fascinating backdrop with an endless variety of shapes, layers, formations, colors, and textures.
Inevitably, by the end of the day, even the pelicans have gotten lazy.
El Cardoncito:
Ensenada El Embulo:
While the picturesque surroundings of Ensenada El Embulo were a legitimate enough draw to Isla Partida’s northernmost anchorage, it’s proximity to Los Islotes was what really drew us there.
Los Islotes, just a few miles further north of Ensenada El Embulo, is home to the largest sea lion rookery in the entire Gulf of California.
We surmised stationing ourselves at El Embulo would allow us to leave Exit at anchor while we took the dinghy to Los Islotes at first light. The strategy paid off perfectly. Surface conditions were nearly flat in the morning; our timing gave us almost an hour alone with the sea lions before the first tour boat could even be seen approaching on the horizon.
While we had experienced the magic of scuba diving with sea lions in Argentina over ten years ago, it was not an option today. We would have had to go with a licensed operator.
Snorkeling? I’m not sure if we would have had the courage to hop in without experienced guides. The females and younger sea lions are extremely curious and playful. However, the seven hundred pound males patrolling around the perimeter of their harem territory are more than just a little intimidating.
Fortunately, because we are complete pussies and, at this point, refuse to get in the frigid water unless it is a necessity, we did not even have to address the question.
Los Islotes:
Even without getting in the water, the sea lion excursion was unbelievable. Benign surface conditions made the dinghy trip a breeze. However, it would not take much wind to make that trip a rather foolish endeavor.
While at Ensenada El Cardonal, we left the dinghy on the beach for a land excursion to the other side of Isla Espirítu Santo.
On the other side of the island, we were treated to an exceptional view of the bay.
It’s difficult to enhance days like these, unless maybe you add some additional beach time and a hypnotic sunset.
From day to day, the traffic in a given anchorage could vary from completely empty, to tour boats for thirty minutes, to a couple of sailboats sitting for days, to a mega-twat fully equipped with a mobile water park, to a charter catamaran dropping anchor on top of you in an empty bay…
Most of the time, we found ourselves completely alone. Occasionally, we came across people we had met before.
Someone from day or a week ago is pretty understandable. A month…okay. A year…hmmm. Sometimes, it really makes you wonder.
It’s amazing how the world can be such a massive space and yet a small place simultaneously. Given all the variables, when friends on very different trajectories occasionally find their orbits intersecting, it can seem both fortuitous and inevitable.
Sailors often follow similar winds and routes over time. Still, random meetings over the course of years in multiple countries or oceans can only make you smile.
We had to smile when S/V Russula dropped anchor next to us. Honduras, Guatemala, Panama, Mexico…we had seen Craig in four different countries in as many years.
Golden hour dinghy visit to Isla Gallo with Craig and his crew, followed by a beach sunset happy hour:
The waning days of blue skies, calm water, and almost no wind.
Day after day; it was hard to believe how striking the cloudless blue skies contrasted with the shades of reds, browns, and other colors layered into the earth and rock. The water endlessly varied with blues and greens, but it remained translucent and calm.
For the time being…
Clouds in the sky and winds from the north began to increase in frequency. Slowly at first. Mild conditions overall with a troubled day thrown into the week. Then the day became a couple of days. Then the couple of days became the time in between blows.
The Northerlies had arrived and we would quickly find ourselves struggling, not only to press on, but also to find adequate shelter.
The cliffs, hills, peaks, and valleys of Isla Espirítu Santo all have a profound effect on the winds that blow through. Sometimes the winds are dampened or deflected by the landscape. However, sometimes they can be funneled or amplified as well. Almost always, the result is swirling conditions.
And then, eventually, things calm down again.
Toward the end of January we needed to return to La Paz yet again. We had fallen a bit short in some provisions as well as made a minor error in our Starlink service that had to be corrected.
The Starlink technology had worked flawlessly. After debating the different service options, we had signed up for “Residential” instead of “RV” (only because we could reverse from Residential to RV if we had made a mistake but not the other way around); however, we had failed to add the “Roaming” option to our service before departing La Paz.
Turns out, once outside a twenty mile or so territory of the address you are signed up with, Starlink stops working if you don’t have roaming activated. Bit of an inconvenience…but lesson learned.
A pleasant, calm evening sunset in the crowded anchorage outside La Paz can make you forget why you didn’t want to return.
On the other hand, when the Northerlies blow through (and it seems like they are every few days)…
…another bouncy day in a crowded anchorage makes you remember instantly why you didn’t want to return; especially when you add opposing tidal currents and the real possibility of dragging boats.
We never ceased to be amazed at the number of hails over the VHF asking if anyone had seen someone’s dinghy that had gone on walkabout. Or, even worse, someone making an announcement warning of an unoccupied sailboat that was currently drifting through the anchorage.
As January drew to a close, once again we departed La Paz.
This time our return to Isla Espirítu Santo was brief. We were just passing by. Previously, we had hiked over to the east side of the island, but always anchored in the western bays. We decided this time to try the east side; Bahia Bonanza appeared to be a good, and just about the only option.
Another beautiful day.
We expected the increase in northerly winds. Still, for the most part, the skies had remained either completely blue or filled with soft puffy clouds.
And then something happened. Something we hadn’t experienced on the decks of Exit for months, and months, and months.
Holy shit.
It started raining.
Bahia Bonanza had a massive beach and we were the only people there. While I sorted out some boat projects, Kris had the entire beach to herself.
Sweet.
Our stay at Bahia Bonanza was only overnight. We weren’t on a schedule, but we had already spent plenty of time at Isla Espirítu Santo. It was time to move on.
Our first trip to Los Islotes, by dinghy when we were anchored on the opposite side of Espirítu, had been an incredible experience. Today, we once again had perfectly calm surface conditions heading up the coast aboard Exit.
Making good time up the east coast of Espirítu Santo in near flat waters, we had the opportunity to pass right next to Los Islotes, this time keeping the mothership back well farther than had been the case when we were in the dinghy. Still, we were able to pass close enough to see and hear the sea lions who had apparently already commenced with an entertaining morning show for the couple of tour boats that had already arrived before us.
From Los Islotes, we set course in a northwesterly direction making for Isla San Francisco. Now, every movement north would for us represent a new record since passing through the Panama Canal and into the Pacific Ocean just over one year ago.
And, in this Gulf of California, we still had a lot of water north of us to explore.
sv-exit.com 