Turtle Bay

Turtle Bay

We left Ensenada with a planned stop in Cabo Colonet. There was sadly no wind in the forecast and it looked like another long motor kind of a day. Not what people with sailboats look forward to. We made our way across Bahia de Todos Santos back out to the Pacific Ocean. As we motored out away from land we were beginning to notice a little wind, so we moved further away from land and were at last able to put the sails up and turn the motor off. The winds were light, the seas were calm. We were not going to break any speed records, but we were under sail. It was beautiful. We radioed Gene and Kathy on Tabula Rasa and told them we would meet them the following day in San Quentin and bypass Cabo Colonet, it was just too nice to have the sails up and the motor off. The passage was uneventful, no wildlife to speak of, no fishing boat or freighter traffic and no crazy winds or wild sea state that snuck up on us. The winds were enough to keep us moving and I was learning to rest while under way not quite mastering sleep yet but getting better. As we got closer to San Quentin, I dialed in our AIS on the anchorage and noticed that our friends were already there. I felt bad thinking that I made them complete an overnight passage when they didn’t want to but as it turned out, Cabo Colonet was not a very well protected anchorage and they were having issues with their electrical system, so they pulled anchor and moved down the coast to San Quentin. Good for us, I always feel better when we pull into an anchorage and see a familiar boat. San Quentin is nothing like what I expected. I picture anchorages as being places that you can dinghy to shore, wander a beach or a village but not there. The anchorages are a very long way (long enough to exceed the fuel tank capacity of our dinghy) from the beaches and to land on the beach you must take the dinghy through surf and breaking waves. I am saving that experience and lesson for when we get to warmer water as I am certain it is going to be upside down or sideways the first time or two while we learn the skill of timing breaking waves to make a beach landing. The water is slowly getting warmer but still not warm enough for me to look forward to a swim intended or not. The anchorage itself was very rolly even though we were inside the first set of breakers. We rocked and rolled and bounced for the entire 2 days we spent there. Our next stop was Turtle Bay 200 miles away so another overnight sail with only light winds forecast in the afternoons but not much the rest of the day.

We left San Quentin under power with no wind. We motored and motored and finally found a little wind and were able to sail through a few shifts but we ended up sailing only 24 hours out of the 48 of the passage. There were times that the wind dropped to nothing and the sea looked like a sheet of glass. Another uneventful monotonous passage devoid of fishing boats, freighters, and very little wild life. We saw one seal, one whale and a small pod of dolphins displaying outrageous aerial maneuvers. They came and went and left no wild weather immediately in their wake so maybe I can stop cringing when I see a pod of dolphins. We encountered only 2 other boats on our AIS over the 48 hours. I mention this because the loved ones at home who were trying to track our AIS were unable to. The AIS works by bouncing signals off other VHF radio antennas but with so few boats in our vicinity, there was nothing to triangulate our signal with. Even though we were moving, our AIS signal was stalled somewhere just outside Ensenada. Clearly technology is not perfect. We caught the best wind on the last leg of our passage and I was able to come into Turtle Bay under sail. As soon as we rounded into the bay we were hailed and welcomed by Tabula Rasa. It is so nice to know that there are others looking out for you and having someone else to share these crazy experiences with.
We set our anchor and headed over to Tabula Rasa and they fixed us a proper breakfast as we had spent the last 2 days eating underway and I have yet to manage my culinary skills while bobbing around in the ocean. I did however cook up a Bonita that Dave caught so we did have one warm meal. After breakfast Dave and I ventured into Turtle Bay. Turtle Bay is what I think of when I hear the word village. There are a few grocery stores, gas stations, and what I would call convenience stores and several bars but no restaurants like what we are accustomed to. It used to be a thriving town with a working airport and a large sardine cannery, but the sardines are gone and so is most of their economy. Most of the roads are dirt. We were met at the beach by Pedro. He is developmentally disabled and makes his living by watching people’s dinghies making sure they don’t get stolen or float away with the surf and tide and he will walk you to all the places he thinks might be helpful to you. He speaks no English but is excellent with gestures. We embarked on our first venture into the village with Pedro. Since he doesn’t speak English, he tried to guess at what might be helpful. Our first stop was the bank, I stayed there and got into line hoping to convert some dollars to pesos and he continued his march with Dave. I got to the window and they were unable to help me as they work with only Mexican banks. I went back outside, and Dave and Pedro were nowhere to be found and I had no clue as to what direction they headed in. I sat out on the curb and realized that perhaps me did not make a good decision to split up. Neither of us had phones that worked here, no one was speaking English, so I had no way of communicating or finding Dave. My best bet was to stay put and hope that he would backtrack and find me. I made friends with a dog, he looked like a pit bull black lab cross and clearly at one time had been a fighting dog as all his scars were stitched across his body in white. My heart broke but at least I wasn’t alone while I waited. Finally, Dave did return, and my anxiety abated a bit. Pedro proved to be very reliable and faithful to us. It was such a relief knowing that we could leave our dinghy on the beach and know that it would be there when we needed it to return to the boat. The dinghy is a lifeline for cruisers especially if you anchor out and not stay in marinas. It is the only way that you can come and go from your boat. Pedro sat for several hours watching our dinghy in the dark and the wind and asked only for 20 pesos, about a dollar. He also pointed out a place where we could eat. We had dinner at Maria’s. Everything single item was fresh made, the guacamole, the salsa, pico de gallo, and even the flour tortillas. As we looked around we realized that it wasn’t a restaurant in the sense of what we were accustomed to in the states. This is their home, they open their home to serve meals. The menus were hand written on construction paper except there was no lobster because none were caught that day and there was no chocolate cake because Maria’s sister who makes the cake was in Ensenada. Victor, Maria’s son was our waiter and he spoke excellent English. When we went back during a break in the winds a couple days later, they were quite concerned and said that if the wind became too much for us we were welcome to come back and spend the night on land in their home.
The Mexican people that we have met so far have been kind, generous and are very beautiful especially the women with their beautiful black hair. In our family we have a joke about blending in. Dave is always saying he is blending which is funny because in the states heads turn and note him regardless of the setting, so I always tell him that clearly his blender is broken. When Eddie Murphy starred in “Dr. Doolittle” we bonded right away with the chameleon whose colors refused to turn but he was always so sure he was blending just like Dave. Well the tables have turned for sure. Dave with his black hair and olive skin does somewhat blend but I stick out like a sore thumb with my grey hair. I have yet to see a Mexican woman with grey hair so now it is me with a broken blender! Everywhere I go people smile and wave at least that is what I hope, I hope they are not pointing and laughing.
The day after we arrived in Turtle Bay the winds began to build and by afternoon they were 18 knots sustained gusting to 25. Off to the northeast you could see the dust from the desert rise and begin its march toward us. By evening the winds were 25 knots sustained gusting to 30 and the dust and sand covered everything inside and out. By midnight the winds were 35 knots sustained gusting to 43, waves were coming over the bow of the boat, but our anchor held firm and only one boat in the anchorage drug. I experienced our first Santa Anna winds and am so thankful we were in an anchorage and not out on the water. It was a wild night. We spoke with a boat who came in following the storm and they were coming North from La Paz after going with the Baja HaHa south, so they were beating into the teeth of the storm, they said the winds on the water were 60 knots. I have handled 41 and am hoping to never have to do it again. Sixty knots probably would’ve broken me as this point in my learning curve.
The village is small enough that there is no ATM. There is a bank, but it only performs transactions from banks within Mexico and refused to do business with the gringo. There is a shop that will convert American dollars to pesos, but they only have a set amount of pesos available each day and so we were only able to convert $40-60 each day and we needed fuel. To have fuel delivered to the boat it would cost about $6.28 per gallon. We couldn’t get enough pesos from the store to pay for that kind of delivery, but we had Gerry cans and we could walk to the gas station and haul it to the boat ourselves for just over $3.17 a gallon. We could get the fuel we needed with the pesos we had. It seemed like a good idea at the time. It turned out to not be such a good idea. The fuel delivery fellow was less than impressed and detained us during our march of shame with our fuel. He explained that it is illegal to transport fuel in Mexico without a permit punishable by jail time. The Federals were not there this date and rather than report us he would fine us. So, I don’t know for certain if in fact it is illegal to transport fuel in Mexico without a permit, but I am very glad that we paid a small fine or bribe and are not in jail.