We really didn’t want to arrive in La Paz on Christmas Day, Friday before a weekend, knowing we needed to be all the way to Loreto by the thirty-first. A night sail was proposed. The winds were forecast as practically non-existent, but a nearly full moon would make a pretty motor of it anyway, and we’d have half a day before businesses closed to get a few things done. We weighed anchor after a nice meal ashore, marred only by a drunk Gringo reverting to toddler state from an afternoon of margaritas.
We motored far enough to clear the shoals and raised the main just in case the wind came up despite the forecast. Wyatt and Haley retired to their bunks and sure enough a nice breeze kicked up as we cleared the point. With the genoa unfurled and a beam wind from WSW, Allora took off nicely. The moon was nearly full and it was magical. I went to my bunk and Diana woke up Wyatt to share the watch with her, in case the wonderful sailing didn’t last. But the breeze held as we sailed up the Cerralvo channel at eight knots. There’s something about sailing at night that we really are hooked on, the stars and dark horizon and the anticipation of dawn. Diana woke me around 2 o’clock. The wind had veered ahead of us now, but it still looked like we could make our waypoint at the San Lorenzo Channel into Bahia de La Paz. Haley joined me for the next watch as we headed up and tacked our way through the channel markers, looking up at the stars and snuggling to keep warm. The moon shimmered on the waves and we watched a small forest fire burning high in the Sierra de la Laguna. We inched our way back and forth against a west wind through the small red and green channel markers, that seemed so close, even miles away. Haley went back to her bunk after a couple hours and I continued tacking against wind and current which seemed determined not to let us pass. Swinging ever more due west and forcing me north on the port tack and chasing me back into the channel on starboard. But it was fun sailing and other than waking my sleeping crew with each tack as the sheets ground through the genoa cars right over their heads, it was a great. We had moved so quickly during Diana and Wyatt’s watch and we didn’t want to arrive in La Paz in the dark anyway. Just before dawn Wyatt took over for the sunrise watch and I slept until he got a call from the Lompampo Ferry on the VHF, bearing down on us at 17 knots as we approached the channel entrance. I helped Wyatt with a quick tack and made coffee while he steered and Allora topped 9 knots.
We pulled into our slip next to a couple particularly ostentatious motor yachts (which does seem to be the whole point of these vessels) and Diana went into Diana mode — compressing the errands which any sane crew would allot a week for, to half a day. The plan was to sail to Loreto, upwind over the next five days, so we needed provisions. We also needed to make room for “the Grandmas,” Elizabeth and Camille, which involved some repacking of the stuff in the big cavern forward under our bunk.
Things closed at one o’clock and as we unloaded our provisions, Christmas eve was celebrated with carols sung at the marina in an organized program put on by the boating expats of La Paz. There was amplification and electric guitars, but I couldn’t help feeling that my fellow sons and daughters of meek religious pilgrims didn’t really seem to put their hearts into it. I guess the reticence of our Mayflower ancestors runs deep. Nobody applauded, no doubt because it was a singalong and that would involve the mortal sin of applauding yourself. It was the tenth annual mumble-along to be held at Marina La Paz. Maybe my personal reaction had more to do with misunderstanding the religious component of the holiday. Maybe Christmas eve is supposed to be solemn and serious. We had our own quiet celebration aboard Allora and Haley took some pics of the boats festooned with lights.
We sailed Christmas day on a whisper of wind, which finally quit as we approached the beautiful island, Espiritu Santo. Along the way we spotted some humpback whales, and though a few of the tourist pangas that ferry people out of La Paz for day trips also found them, they hung with Allora. Maybe it’s her black bottom paint that attracts them, but though we didn’t jump in this time, they came close and dove right under us (spottable on the fishfinder), then curiously stuck their noses out of the water.
We anchored at Ensenada el Cardonal. Diana and Wyatt built a driftwood Christmas tree on the beach (while I tried a little fishing and Haley took a catnap onshore) and we celebrated the full moon and the holiday by rowing ashore in water as still as a mirror. We made a bonfire of the tree which scattered sparks up into the starry sky, then hiked across the lagoon through the ghostly cactus to the other side of the island.
By morning the wind was howling out of the west. Further lessons were learned about the importance of putting the dinghy onboard at night, and especially getting the outboard off while the sea is relatively calm. Our only other company in the harbor pulled anchor a few minutes before we did and we watched them head out through the pounding white caps. They started to put up their mainsail, but quickly decided not to and headed south, unfurling some of their jib. It was a stiff breeze out there with some steep chop. Our prop worked hard trying to push us out passed the point, the waves slamming over the bow. We left our main furled, too, and unrolled the working jib and were quickly moving at 9 knots under jib only. Haley had her camera out and popped out now and then from behind the hard dodger like a war corespondent to get shots of the waves breaking over the bow, until Wyatt went forward to take care of the main halyard and noticed that the sail hatch was open. Fixing that problem was a lot of work, and there are still problems we’re dealing with including a bowthruster that still isn’t working. There was a lot to be dried out at the anchorage at Isla San Francisco. THAT won’t happen again!