San Diego to San Jose del Cabo, Mexico
We departed with much more time that we needed to sail the 60 miles to Ensenada. We crossed the border in light winds and ghosted by the Coronado Islands. Finally, turned on the engine for a short spell, motoring slowly so we wouldn’t arrive at 3AM. The wind came up at sunrise for a nice sail into harbor. Fantastic fish tacos and a margarita at the marina hotel, that put us all to sleep for a Sunday afternoon.
Custom and Immigration formalities went off smoothly with only one self-inflicted glitch involving our Temporary Import Permit (a long story involving Vilma of Puerto Vallarta, more to come). A temporary solution was found, celebrated by more fish tacos at a street taco stand. We sailed in the afternoon, a glorious beam reach by Islas Todos Santos, accompanied by dolphins which we never tire of.
Our next destination was Magdalena Bay, which would take four days and nights of sailing to achieve. With winds on our tail, pointed (inconveniently for a modern sailboat) directly at our goal, we tacked offshore on as broad a reach as we could manage with our asymmetrical spinnaker.
With a scant crescent of a ‘wishing’ moon – which did not arrive until early each morning, we sailed under a dome of vivid stars. The forecast was for seas up to 18 feet, and we saw some big waves, but they were long and rolling, big soft hills and gentle valleys. Bonita were caught (and released), a yellowtail tuna kept for ceviche dinner and then set up the grill on the swim platform as the wind picked up the next evening with the Code Zero set, leading to what’s now referred to as ‘extreme grilling.’
Somewhere in the afternoon, when the winds had dropped to 7 knots, making running off wind in the big swell unpleasant, we motored for awhile and I took advantage of the moment to set up a trolling teaser, a big lure about 16 inches long, no hook, that wiggles and chugs and generally makes a commotion. The strategy confused me the first time I read about it, why no hook? But the lure is so big, it would be tough to set. This is how they catch billfish on a fly… lure and chum them in, then toss the biggest fly you can launch out there so the fish can take out its frustrations on something smaller. I did the same thing now with heavy duty conventional tackle. I just happened to be reeling in a trolled lure with the idea of adding a squid which had volunteered to be bait the night before, when the swordfish started thrashing at the teaser. I yelled for Maddi, snoozing in the hammock and for Diana who was off watch and taking a nap, and then I tossed my lure back out there and let it drop next to the teaser. The swordfish attacked it immediately, but it took several thrashes to hook up. The first time it seemed to be on, I tried to set the hook but missed. You’d think that’d be it, but the fish came back again and as soon as the hook was in it tore off. I hadn’t really known that I had backing on the reel, but it showed up in a mighty hurry and even with the drag still high, I couldn’t slow it down. By now, Maddi and Diana were there to help. Eventually the fish slowed, and I did my best with the rod in the holder to get back some line, while Diana and Maddi tried to find the fighting harness, which Diana has dubbed “The Golden God” and then tried to read the instructions on how to set it up, laughing hysterically at this ludicrous piece of man gear, a sort of golden cod piece of ridiculous proportions with an appropriately situated receptacle for the butt end of the rod. Maddi finally got it strapped on me and it took about 45 minutes to bring the swordfish next to the boat. Further dramatizing the importance of being prepared, we then had to decide what in the heck to do with it. I simply hadn’t imagined catching a fish this big. Reaching over the side of the boat I grabbed its bill with bare hands and somehow we managed to get a line tied around its tail, we moved it aft to the swim platform and up on the boat. Killing a fish that size felt more like killing a deer, definitely not the fun part. The fish was exhausted by the fight, even with hefty gear meant for big fish, and I wonder if you did try to land one with a fly, how it would fair upon release. Filleting it later at anchor reminded me of the first time we butchered a deer in Montana. All told, we vacuum packed somewhere around 100 swordfish steaks.
We had hoped to explore Magdalena Bay, but a norther put the kibosh on that idea. We spent the morning hoping it would calm, but instead it gusted 30 knots, testing our new bridle. It calmed that evening and I slept better the second night, knowing the anchor was rock solid.
An armada of shrimp boats came into Bahia Santa Maria to get out of the wind, and we sailed passed them early morning. For whatever reason they keep a lot of lights on round the clock, with their trolling poles extended to either side hanging heavy metal cages to steady them in the swell. They looked like large, strangely beautiful floating insects, something akin to their prey.
A Gray Whale greeted us near the entrance to Mag Bay, breaching classically, and we battled the wind and current to gain entrance to the San Francisco sized harbor. We saw a few fishermen passing but no more whales, and we wished we had no deadlines, because it would have been a fascinating place to explore. But Maddi had a flight to catch and Haley was waiting for us in San Jose del Cabo. No doubt it will be a long, and imperfect process, shedding deadlines and schedules that are inconsistent with the natural pace of sailing.
The weather forecast (which never seems to match quite what we’re experiencing) called for nice winds in the teens decreasing and trending eastward through the night. Instead we had low winds from the north which built and became NNW. We had the ‘Zero’ up at sunset and got some gorgeous photos on the bowsprit, but then as Diana brought me up a plate of fish tacos, the wind gusted over 20knots (we’re slow learners, I guess) forcing me to hand steer one-handed (whilst inhaling tacos) until we could pause our dinner plans and get it rolled up and replaced with the Genoa. Diana took the first watch and had such a fine wind keeping Allora flying along at 8 and even 9 knots that she went until almost one in the morning, counting over thirty shooting stars before she woke me up for the graveyard shift. I added one more reef to the genoa and still we were flying. I started trying to count shooting stars but gave up somewhere around 40. The wind was dropping when I woke Maddi at three thirty and I had already let the genoa all the way out again, but it was steady enough to keep the boat happy, and Maddi counted 136 more before sunrise. Turns out we were uniquely situated for watching the Gideon meteor shower, no moon, and thirty miles offshore the Baja, bioluminescence trailing like a comet tail in our wake, mirroring the celestial display.
We passed Cabo Falso, which despite the name does function in terms of weather as the true cape of Baja. The winds compressed by the point jumped to 25+ with white caps, then dropped to nothing as we passed Cabo San Lucas, with its jagged rocks and cruise ship anchored off the beach. Moments later the NNW wind swung east and we pointed for San Jose del Cabo, absurdly fighting for every degree windward to clear a silly little point Palmila before the bay. Just on principle I didn’t want to have to fire up the engine, and we just made it.
Haley was at the dock to catch a line for us, and after a week at sea, we stepped with wobbily legs onto solid ground in Mexico, Puerto Los Cabos. What we’ve been prepping for and talking about for a very long time, is finally happening.
This from Maddi:
Stepped on land again after 1440 nautical miles of surreal sailing along the coast of Baja, Mexico aboard Allora. Over the course of a week at sea we had winds from still to sublime, spectacular sun (and moon) rises and sets, heaving Pacific swells, plenty of hammock swinging and good books, a few hectic sail changes, a breaching grey whale, a 7.5 foot swordfish caught by the Captain (yummy!) and a last night watch with the Gemind meteor shower overhead (136 shooting stars in just two hours!) and a comet of bioluminescence trailing in our wake. So happy to be a part of this amazing ‘grem’ (crew)!