La Cruz Walking Tour

For Teresa, who was asking me for my impressions of La Cruz. And anyone else who's curious.

It's our last day here, and as always I feel a little melancholy, even though I know we’ll be back in a few weeks. We have, after all, credit for a night’s stay here at the marina since we paid for a week and we’re leaving two days early.

So I took a walking tour through town, camera in hand, and took a lot of photos. Some I shot because they appealed to the eye, others because they meant something to me. A lovely chica who served me good coffee and pastry, a friendly woman who sold me bacon, kids who trailed after me as I walked down the street. A little dog that desperately needs tender loving care. (I thought about dognapping him, rushing him to the groomer and paying whatever it would take for a bath, trim and a physical, but we won’t be here tomorrow so I couldn’t deliver him back where I think he belongs. Besides he’d probably bite me, he has quite an attitude.)

The big white house with the palapa roof has a For Sale sign on it. The little, lowslung house with its own private jungle just appealed to the introvert in me. The staircase belongs to La Cava de Martinez, a family restaurant, and its colors caught my eye. How I'd love to go wild with color like that! I also shot the cruisers’ hangouts Philo's and Anna Banana's, and Le Reve, the French restuarant with a Huichol art gallery inside. The exterior of the Brittania pub and Cascadia restaurant (a colonial architectural gem). A lady deep in puppy love. A cascade of bouganvillea on Calle Coral.

Can you tell I'm smitten with La Cruz?

We'll be away from cyberspace for a few days, sailing south. Hasta luego!

Temporary Technical Difficulties

For the past three days here at Marina Riviera Nayarit in La Cruz I have been unable to keep an internet connection long enough to upload a blog. Tonight the Capt tried something new, called Interference Robustness, that seemed to work though it dropped off at one point. But tomorrow I'm going to try to upload several photos of this marina and the town of La Cruz. Friday morning we're going to set sail for Tenacatita, with one possible overnight stop along the way.

The last few days we've been searching for a few necessary items for the boat: a dock cart or dolly for lugging fuel and water and a couple of water jugs being top of the list. Our search took us to Home Depot, Walmart and Sam's Club in Puerto Vallarta today, and as we sat in the food court at Sam's Club, looking across the street at the enormous cruise ships that resembled condo towers, and feeling like a fish out of water, I decided I didn't care if I never saw Puerto Vallarta again.

One thing I have enjoyed in our shopping trips is the bus troubadors. I remember them from ten years ago, and they've probably been around for decades before that. They get on the bus, usually with a guitar, and sing two or three songs, make their pitch for donations and jump off again. They take requests, if someone wants to hear a favorite tune. One fellow a couple of days ago had a high-tech twist to his act: he brought a boombox which he carried under his arm, and it played the accompaniment to each of his songs at the push of a button, so he had an entire orchestra backing him up. Not a bad voice, either. Today's troubador was a young man who sang one song in English..."May you have the time of your life..." He had his own pitch in Spanish, but at one point remarked in English that "You are welcome to applaud." So I did.

Rant of the Week and Other Pleasures

Yesterday we shopped at a vast Walmart-style chain store between Bucerias and Puerto Vallarta that could be a classic example of how wrong a store can go, even with support from Costco, big bucks from wealthy Mexican conglomerates, a gung-ho marketing team...everything required except some common sense at the managerial level.

They called it the Hyper Mega Market, attempting to boost its size and importance up from the typical Mega store. The term Supermarket doesn't mean much in Mexico, since grocery stores the size of walk-in closets feel free to call themselves supermarkets.

The Hyper Mega Market did one thing right: they created some shaded parking in their lot. But it went downhill from there.

As we walked in, I suddenly realized I was famished (a very bad way to shop) and voila! A food court right in front of us. No lines, in fact only a couple of customers, and they had chicken bakes, a Costco specialty we favor. Also pizza, but not much else on display. Two women in charge. One seemed to disappear as we approached, and the other looked like she'd like to. We told her in Spanish we wanted two chicken bakes and a bottle of water, and she looked blank. We pointed to the chicken bakes on display, and she seemed to notice them for the first time. She explained that we had to pay for them in advance in the grocery line, specifically Caja 4. In a cooperative mood, but crosseyed with hunger pangs, I lined up at Caja 4, the busiest in the store, with three heavily loaded shopping carts in front of me. After waiting about 30 minutes I was able to pay for our lunch. They weren't the chicken bakes we were used to, but at that point I was beyond caring.

There's a lot of merchandise in the Hyper Mega, but if you're looking for something exotic like cornstarch, you're out of luck. The paper coffee filters probably don't sell really well, because they're not with the coffee, but way above eye level in the paper towel section. We saw shelf after shelf with only a few items, as though the stockers were on strike.

This mismanagement isn't exclusive to Mexico, I've seen similar disasters in the States. But that's no consolation. I'm still looking for my cornstarch.

In the evening we and our Canadian friends watched "Captain Ron," the cruisers' cult movie, and then all six of us went to La Reve, a French restaurant with an extensive Huichol art gallery and live music. Kristina and Nacho had been playing Bossa Nova, and were packing up to leave when we walked in, but after the Capt looked over their CDs and decided to buy one, they decided to play a few numbers for us. Their songs were all Brazilian tunes we hadn't heard and we enjoyed Kristina's confident, lilting voice, often joined with harmonies from Nacho. After five tunes they started to pack up again, and the Capt went over, got into a conversation with them, and came back to announce that when we come through La Cruz again, we're going to do some music with them. Whoa! How about the fact that although I know some Jobim songs, I sing them in English, and Kristina sings in Portuguese? And I don't know any of her songs. Oh, well, it might be fun anyway.

Blog Fast or Die

I'm tapping this out quickly because I never know when the connection will pop off on me again. We'll leave Banderas Bay Thursday O-Dark-30 and try to get around Cabo Corrientes before dark. Or whatever. "Sol Mate" is with us again, with Mom and daughter aboard, quite a big crew even for a 40-footer, but their captain is determined to get them to Tenacatita.

I was hoping to visit a fellow blogger in Yelapa, the last stop in Banderas, before going south, but "Sol Mate" investigated the Yelapa anchorage yesterday, and it doesn't sound promising for an overnight. There's not much of a dinghy landing, anchoring has to be done very close to shore because it's very deep there, and although two moorings were available, they were iffy at best.

If I can get on again later, I'll post photos of this amazing marina. It's obvious they're going for the high-tone crowd and we were just lucky to get in during the early-promotion phase.

Yesterday my big project for the day was clipping both dogs. It's my third time, and I think I'm getting a little better at it (or else they are).

Tonight we're hosting a little birthday party for the Capt (not that birthday, the other one), with a showing of "Captain Ron," popcorn and (shhhh, don't tell him, it's a surprise) birthday cake. Then we'll all troop over to La Reve to check out their live Bossa Nova music.

Today it's off to Mega for meds, coffee filters and a few other items we can't find in the local tiendas.

In Praise of Flopper Stoppers

In spite of the new marina, there are still dozens of boats anchored outside the breakwater, living free and easy
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Have I ever mentioned the smell of an anchor rode when the anchor is hoisted? I guess the dedicated true-blue old salts love that dead fish fragrance, but I couldn't wait to get it off my hands.

We had a stern anchor and a bow anchor to hoist yesterday morning when we finally left Chacala, promptly at 8 am. Chacala is still my favorite spot, so far. What makes a favorite anchorage? For some it's isolation, for others it's wildlife, or scenic beauty, or internet access, or shopping! Exotic strangeness or a feeling of coming home. I guess it's the latter that makes me love Chacala.

After an easy day of sailing (well, easy for me, not so much for the Capt) we arrived at La Cruz anchorage in Banderas Bay at sundown and had just enough time to deploy our flopper stopper before dark. A flopper stopper is a wonderful device, a very simple looking object that when suspended from the boom off the side of the boat (port side in this case) takes almost all the rock and roll out of anchoring and leaves you feeling almost like you're in a parking lot. We have two, in case extra balancing is required.

Our flopper-stopper. Note that the flaps are simply heavy flexible vinyl. Such a simple device, such miraculous results!

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Dozens of boats were parked in the anchorage, not yet sold on the new marina inside the breakwater. But next morning I kayaked in to find out the rates and check out the facilities, and we ended up taking a slip for a week. We haven't solved our watermaker problem, we have another awning to stitch up which will provide shade when we're underway, and our friends from "Sol Mate" were here. When Rafaela, the manager at the marina office, made us an offer we couldn't refuse, we grabbed it. I know, what wusses! But you might call it research: I'm checking out all these new marinas for those who come after me.

La Cruz Marina, which would be the perfect marina if they kept their prices affordable and had reliable wifi
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Here's what I like about the La Cruz Marina: very close walking distance to town, attractive and clean facilities that work (!) and hot showers. What I don't like: a very undependable wifi, because the system was just moved from one office to another and maybe something was left misconnected. Also, every door in the marina office is labeled La Cruz Yacht Club and we're told that once they get enough business they're going to try for exclusivity: i.e. members-only, sky-high prices and the sort of YC snobbery we avoid. The million-dollar powerboats from the Caymans are welcome to it.

Desperately Seeking Cash and Cookies in Las Varas

GoogleEarth view of Chacala Bay. The three white blobs are boats at anchor. The cluster of white blobs are fishing pangas at their dock and the dinghy landing is in the little notch to the right of it
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One last day in Chacala, while we troubleshoot the watermaker, which seems to run happily along for hours and then our indicator shows NO increase in our water level. I know I'm not using that much agua to do the dishes, dammit!

So we decided to hire a water truck to deliver ten five-gallon jugs to the dinghy landing and we'll offload them onto the dink, probably five at a time, take them to the boat, raise each with the jib halyard, and thereby fill the tank. A laborious and time-consuming process, but we may have a couple of days ahead with no water access, so if the watermaker isn't going to do the job, we have to.

Yesterday we took the combi (Andee always called it the collectivo), a passenger van, to Las Varas. While we waited for our ride, we met a gringo from Illinois who was having funds wired to him in LV, and a family from Virginia with nothing but US dollars, looking for an ATM. The drive took us up a short dirt road to the main highway, where we turned south and rode for about 20 minutes through jungle and farmland into a considerably bigger town than I expected.

As it turned out, no joy for the Illinois fellow, who could never find the location, Casa de Oro, where his cash was waiting for him. He had that "stuck in a foreign country with empty pockets and a wife waiting in the hotel" panic in his eyes when we parted company. Someday a Mexican ATM may rob me blind, but until then I'm going to enjoy the convenience and avoid complicated arrangements like wiring funds and money changers.

We stopped for carne asada (grilled beef) tacos at a spot where there was a butcher shop (carneceria) on every corner--"the beef should be fresh," concluded the Capt. The tortillas were made fresh for each order, and were large and delicious; I could have made a meal of them. The dining room was clean and cheery with yellow walls, and an array of photos of old-time revolutionaries and their hard-eyed women caught my eye. The waitress was a very friendly chica about the size of an eight-year-old who was delighted to have a chance to practice her English on us.

Then we wandered the streets looking for veggies (a fairly easy quest), chicken which I bought at a polleria, cheese and a bakery, which turned out to be impossible. We saw one that was closed, got directions to another four blocks away and finally decided it wasn't worth the trudge. Finally Jim crossed the highway to fill the jerry jug with gasoline for the generator while I waited for the return combi.

Back on the boat, I tried something new with the chicken, a recipe yet to be named. I had bought chicken milanesa, which is breast pounded very thin, usually used for sandwiches. I breaded a couple of pieces lightly, without going through the usual egg and milk dip, and browned them on the griddle, then rolled each around a piece of cheese, smothered the rolls with sauteed onions, carrots and bell pepper, and poured mole sauce over it all. Simmered it until the cheese melted, topped it with a dollop of crema and served it over rice. Muy rico... Sorry, no photos, we were too hungry.

Another Side of Chacala

Chris, Teresa and Steve are a family from WA State volunteer as English and PE teachers at Chacala School
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Chacala School was a pleasant surprise, with a clean, well-maintained two-story building housing a big classroom and a library as well as three additional classroom buildings and plenty of play area. Chacala has the only school library in the state of Nayarit, funded by donations from a vacationing Canadian and others. One whole wall is devoted to a bank of computers, which visitors are welcome to use.

I was there yesterday at the invitation of Teresa, a volunteer English teacher who has visited here the past two years from Seattle and participates in an after-school enrichment program. I was asked to “enrich” the kids with a talk about our life on the boat, our travels and for thrills, the saga of '07 when we tried to sail from La Paz to Maz and ended up swept down to PV. Chica went along for show & tell.

After I ran out of tales, the kids wanted to see the boat, so about a dozen of us traipsed down to the malecon and the more adventurous of them scrambled out onto the rocks. At a count of three, we all yelled “Hellooooo, Jim!” and the Capt obliged by waving back at us from the boat.

Teresa's son Chris is a WSU student and marine reservist who served in Iraq. He is taking a semester off from school to teach P.E. to the kids in Chacala and having camping and exploring adventures with Teresa. I felt a twinge of envy when she described their recent two-day jungle safari--it's been decades since I had an experience like that with my son.

Then came the best part: Teresa invited me up to her house for flan and coffee! Although she’s given up sweets for Lent, she made a flan especially for us, and such a flan it was! Not just that it was sweeter (which it was) but also richer and more flavorful than any I’d ever tasted. (Of course, she may have a culinary edge, being Cuban.) She promised to email me the recipe, and prepared a slice for me to take back to the Capt.

Her husband Steve also teaches English at the school. Since the sessions are considered enrichment instead of formal classes, he didn't need a teaching certificate. And without this family of volunteers, there's no English instruction at Chacala school.

I told Steve and Teresa I've been thinking of volunteering in English classes when we get back to San Carlos, and they shared some of their strategies. Since we talked, I’ve been thinking about whether I have the ability to hold the interest of a classroom of students. I watched Teresa manage the group of kids during the program and wondered if I had the confidence to maintain order and keep everyone focused as she did. I need to sit in on a class or two and learn more. I do know one other English teacher who worked with teenage girls in Japan, which must have been a real challenge. Maybe she has some tips.

Walking back to the dinghy landing Teresa gave me a quick tour of the part of Chacala I hadn't seen, including the church, the new construction on the hillsides where people from the US and Canada are putting up houses on lots that were $35K last year, now $65K. We passed the house where our mutual friend Andee lived until she died last month, and saw that the plants she had lovingly tended were looking neglected and abandoned.

One more day in Chacala, then we sail south to La Cruz. On the beach this evening we met Dennis and Joan from "Traveler," who are also heading for La Cruz, possibly tomorrow. Dennis blogs on his own website, http://traveleratsea.com. I also heard from our friends on "Sol Mate" who are already at La Cruz, staying at the marina. They confirmed that yes, it's $10 a day to dock a dinghy at the marina if you're not staying there, but that people are landing from the anchorage on a beach nearby. We may meet up with "Sol Mate" at La Cruz, or a few days later at Nuevo Vallarta marina.

My interest sparked by the Huichols I met Sunday on the beach, I went yesterday to photograph some examples of Huichol string paintings and beadwork in a shop in Chacala.




Then a Coke at a palapa while we watched kids working on their soccer moves along the shoreline and gazed out at the boats in the sunlit water. A little band of musicians trudged by in all their finery, looking for a venue to play, and I complimented them on their fancy shirts--black with murals of cowboy paintings around their middles. They seemed a little tired and discouraged, lugging their instruments around hoping to find someone who’d listen and maybe pay a few pesos for the privilege, and having been in their position I could relate. A few minutes later, we found them on the street in front of the local beer distributor, performing a couple of their songs.

Andee always blogged about the street scene in Chacala and she never failed to find something interesting going on. She had made friends with the locals and freely photographed them up close, sometimes devoting a whole blog to the faces of Chacala, from babies to elderly abuelitas. I still feel hesitant to photograph people and usually try to get permission either verbally or with a gesture with the camera. With the Huichols I wondered if I was expected to offer them money and if so, how much? But so far it seems to be only an issue for me, and everyone else seems perfectly happy to allow me to snap away.

This afternoon I’ll visit the school, where Teresa, a volunteer, has asked me to give “a talk” about our life at sea, and maybe she’ll tell me a little about her contributions to Chacala.

Tomorrow, we take the collectivo to Las Varas to buy gasoline and refill my prescription (she said optimistically).

The Decorated Men

“Another day in Paradise,” says the Capt as he settles contentedly into the cockpit with a giant mug of coffee.

Chica rode the kayak with me all the way to the dinghy landing this time, with the Capt and Sofia in the dink following us. The landing turned out to be fairly easy, because a couple of little boys ran up to us and I handed my painter to one of them so he could steady the kayak while I climbed out. Again Chica was a trouper, patiently waiting until I could scoop her up and carry her to the sand. But once Sofia had arrived, Chica became a wild thing, running circles around poor Sofia, racing into the water and swimming! Her first swim!

Yesterday was Sunday, and the beach was jumping, with music, wandering sellers of jewelry, hammocks and carvings, kids, dogs, young lovelies in bikinis... A couple of Mexican women had set up a little stand and were turning out intriguing pineapple drinks with all the accoutrements: jicama sticks, umbrellas, flags...which were hand-delivered to customers lolling on the beach. The customers would take a sip, look at each other and say, "Otro día en paradiso."

Two guys from Petaluma who had spied the hailing port on our vessel, (also Petaluma) charged over to meet us, but we didn’t really have much to say to each other.

A friendly vendedora wanted to show me every string of beads she had, rattling off her sales pitch: “all organic, no plastic, very cheap.” In Spanish, of course, but I got the gist. I succumbed at last to a string of green beads I couldn’t resist--$12. Guess I’m just another weak-willed turista with pesos burning a hole in my pocket...

On the way back, we came across four men in Huichol Indian costume, sitting on the rocks with one shy little woman. They had a stand-up bass and I took them for musicians, wondering if they were really Huichols or just trying to appear colorful. But they were agreeable to having their photo taken, so I snapped a couple of shots.

Jan Goldy in San Blas told me Huichols have an interesting marital custom: when a couple marries, the bride commits herself to spending the rest of her married life decorating the groom. She embroiders his white pants and shirt in great detail, and then he may go on to have face painting applied on what skin is left exposed. On their feet they wear huaraches and on their heads, big straw hats trimmed with feathers and ball fringe around the brims. The more elaborate and colorful the husband’s getup, the more status is attributed to the wife.

Huichols are known for their symbolic yarn paintings and fine beadwork on gourds, jewelry, and mandalas, called nierikas, which were originally created for ritual purposes but now are sold in Chacala and San Blas. At least a quarter of the Huichol men are said to be shamans and much of their life centers around peyote ceremonies. They believe they evolved from wolves. Lots more here about the symbols used in their art.

Scratching Off A Few To-Dos

A norther is blowing out in the ocean now, and it’s a good time to hole up in a sheltered anchorage. The boat is rocking gently and I can hear music coming from a palapa on the beach, along with the sounds of kids playing in the surf and gulls swarming the fishing dock. It’s a comfortable 72.8°, clear and sunny.

With a few days anchored in Chacala Bay while we wait out some 30-knot winds, it’s time to tackle some projects on our never-ending list. One of mine was to acquire a lighter, cooler straw hat, and I found one that appealed to my inner Texas Gal when I was shopping with my “Sol Mate” friend. Fits perfectly, really knocks the sun off, and makes me wish I had my cowboy boots. Not that they’d be much fun to wear walking in sand, which one does a lot of in Chacala.

On her first kayak outing, Chica made it look easy. Note new Texas Gal hat.
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Another item was to acquaint Chica with kayaking. Sofia has been out on the kayak a few times and although she refuses to sit down, she seems to understand that the less movement on her part the better. Now in this calm bay with plenty of time and only a short distance to land, I felt Chica's time had come. First I climbed in and paddled around the boat a little, while she watched curiously from the deck. Then the Capt handed her over, in her little float coat, and we took a tour together. She seemed to get the idea right away. Sat right between my knees, looking like she’d been kayaking all her young life. I didn’t try to take her to land yet, the trickiest part is getting on and off the kayak in surf.

The Capt found a worrisome faulty connection to the alternator that had brought down our electrical charging system to unacceptable levels. This is a system that requires constant vigilance, to keep the juice flowing unimpeded from the solar panels, the wind generator and the motor so we have the benefits of lights, water pump, fans, watermaker, computers, guitar amp, even an icemaker! Then he fulfilled one of his to-do list items, installing pegs in the bathroom for hanging towels. Gracias, mi capitan.

We took both dogs ashore for a little run, a shower for the Capt and a few provisions--in particular a special order of oatmeal I’d requested at Jorge's store (he had only 3-Minute and I wanted whole oats). And there was a big bag of oatmeal waiting for me so I bought the whole thing. On the beach I toasted my friend Andee with a Coke while I waited for the Capt, and watched a crowd of gringos and Mexicans playing in the water and strolling on the sand. A fabulous people-watching spot, Playa Chacala.

Back in my galley I was starting to cook chilaquiles for lunch when I heard someone calling my name, and the Capt said a woman was swimming around the boat looking for me. It turned out to be Teresa, a mutual friend of Andee’s, out for a dip with her muy guapo son Chris, stopping by to introduce herself, tell me she has been following MY BLOG (oh, joy!) and invite us to give a talk at the Chacala school where she volunteers every year when she’s here in town.

Chris and Teresa swam out to introduce themselves and invite us to talk at the Chacala School
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Not only am I thrilled and honored, but this might give me an opportunity for an “interview” about volunteering in Chacala, for this blog. How did she get started, and what does she do? She said Andee's "job," connecting the local technos--bed and breakfast owners-- with travelers seeking affordable accommodations, had been taken over by a couple of locals who have their own inns--I hope they’ll manage to be as evenhanded as Andee was. I've noticed at least one other couple donated a trashcan at the entrance to the dinghy beach. I'd like to find what I could contribute on short visits, since we're always on the way to someplace else.

Next on my project list is to find someone who’ll sell us a quarter-block of ice, and figure out how to get it back to the dinghy dock.

Another New Weather Oracle

We're always looking at new online weather and surf forecasts in hopes somebody will get it right and help us plan our trips. This latest, actually designed for surfers, but we're interested in surf too, right? is Magic Seaweed.

The anchorage at Chacala Bay, as the sun went down under a cloudy sky yesterday
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Somebody has pulled down the bright blue tarp that shaded my friend Andee’s terrace, the landmark I watched for when we arrived in the Chacala anchorage at sundown yesterday. Andee died almost exactly a month ago, so probably all traces of her are gone from her apartment, and someone else lives there now. Why did I think there'd be something of her left there? I remember watching her terrace as we raised the anchor last year, hoping to spot her waving goodbye. Later in an email to her I joked that we should rig some sort of secret code on the blue tarp that I could see from the boat, so I’d know when she was home.

As we entered the harbor two black skipperkies--Danish water-loving dogs that are said to be perfect boat companions--raised a ruckus from a nearby boat when they saw our two white Maltese on deck, and Sofia and Chica yapped right back at 'em. It's going to be interesting when we run into these folks with all four dogs, on the beach.

With our Canadian friends from “Sol Mate” we dinghied ashore and trudged up the beach to Chico’s for dinner. Next time I’ll have fish, it was much better than the overcooked shrimp in diablo sauce. It was one of my wishes, to wander through Chacala at night, and I’m glad I did. We had first thought to eat at La Brisa, but as the proprietor Brisa (an enterprising chica with excellent English and Spanish, a hard worker and savvy businesswoman) explained, there was a special Valentine’s dinner going on and unless we felt like spending 225 pesos for dinner we’d have to wait about 40 minutes for bocadillos while they served the other customers. Not being up for a formal dinner, we kept going to Chico’s.

The clouds had vanished this morning and the beach was a very popular place
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This morning “Sol Mate” and “Bliss” parted company, with a last-minute flurry of goodbyes, picture-taking and promises to stay in touch. They wanted to get to Punta Mita, closer to Puerto Vallarta, so their son Simon could catch a bus to the airport tomorrow afternoon. Maybe we’ll meet again in the La Cruz anchorage or Nuevo Vallarta marina.

Tomorrow I'm going to get bold enough to climb the steps and shoot closeups of the multitudes of flowers along this wall, where we walk into town. I think it's a b&b, not a private home
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We decided we’ve moved fast enough and it’s time to slow down. Chacala could be the perfect stop: we’re tucked into the calmest part of the bay, near the panga dock and the dinghy landing in the northern corner. There’s even wifi in the anchorage! Or there was this morning...

But no more trips ashore in the dinghy after dark. Early this morning a fisherman rigged a gill net in the approach to the dinghy landing, and his first catch was our dinghy. With both dogs aboard looking longingly back to shore, and me standing on the beach unable to help but reluctant to walk away--what if a dog jumped off and needed to be fished out?--the Capt hung off the side of the dinghy and pulled all the little nylon fibers off the propellor blades, one at a time. These nets are impossible to see in the water in daylight, all the more invisible at night.

ON THE HOOK IN SAN BLAS

Yesterday, in the early afternoon we arrived with “Sol Mate” in Mentanchen Bay, the bahia outside San Blas, where we decided to anchor as their draft (the depth required for their keel to safely clear the bottom) was too deep to comfortably enter the San Blas estuary. We’re farther away from town than usual, but there are benefits: I’ve never anchored in Mentanchen and it’s a whole new way to experience San Blas (more later). The bay is clean so we can make water, and since I somehow used half the tank washing dishes and brushing my teeth since we left Mazatlan, I was anxious about water supply. I LOVE watermakers, one of the best inventions for boats. It’s quieter here than in the estuary and, again, the water’s cleaner. Some thirteen other boats seem to agree, and we have quite a little fleet out here.

From the deck we can see a string of palapas along the beach. Yesterday I went ashore with the dogs and S., “Son of Sol Mate” who’s visiting from Vancouver. We had a Pacifico mini and a bowl of chips at one

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of the palapas, total price $1.40. We didn’t have small enough change to pay for it, and she waved it off, “no problemo, otra vez.”

Today on the Morning Net, hosted as always by Capt Norm, we heard about Ismael, who owns another of the palapas and provides cruiser services such as water and fuel delivery, dinghy security and rides into town. We didn’t find him there when we landed after breakfast, but Rosario, his manager, was more than helpful.

Norm had said in his broadcast that this was the worst year for tourism in San Blas in over 40 years, and that there was a lot of resentment toward gringos on account of our reduced numbers. Anti-tourist graffiti had been seen in town, he warned, and we should be careful. Whatever that means. We found everyone we encountered to be enthusiastic and friendly. Maybe we just look like big spenders (joke).

I explored the town with the crew of “Sol Mate” while the Capt puttered on the boat, his way of relaxing. I came back to find 12-volt outlets installed on each side of the V-berth, so we can use a 12V reading light and fan in the berth, easier on the batteries. He had packed away all our fleece and extra-warm clothes, an act that signifies we are now in the tropics. He installed the teak bookcase that has been taking up a lot of space on my side of the berth, and continued to go through bins and baskets and lockers full of stuff we’ve collected over the past 13 years, consolidating, sorting and examining.

Meanwhile, in town we looked for the Huichol Indian artists, and found some people from Guerrero selling wood, but no beadwork or string pictures. We had showers at Hotel Maria, a very pleasant and attractive inn off the Plaza with very clean showers, towels included, for $2.50 each, and promised to recommend them. I peeped into a room, and found it basic but comfortable: TV, private bath, two beds. We had lunch on the square: big plates of enchiladas, tostadas, chilaquiles and tacos. At the Mercado we sipped liquados (smoothies) of banana, orange and papaya, and took photos of spectacular vegetable stands bursting with color. Veggies as art. We walked miles! It was a pleasure to see this little town through the eyes of our Canadian friends, who appreciate the Mexican culture, do their best to communicate in Spanish, and seem delighted with all San Blas has to offer instead of seeing only dirt and poverty.

So far, I have only a few no-see-um bites around my ankles. At Hotel Maria we met a woman from LA with so many bites on her arms, she had to see a doctor and get an antiobitic shot.

“Sol Mate’s” crew wants to take the jungle boat tour tomorrow, including a visit to a crocodile farm and a river ride that I took back in 1965. The Capt and I have elected to stay here in town, possibly go in for a few supplies. I think I’ll paddle my kayak around the quiet and peaceful bay and see if I know any of the folks on the other dozen boats parked out here. Next day (Thursday) we head for Chacala, a quick daytrip of only 21 miles.

Our Canadian friends consulted on where to go next in our walking tour of San Blas

The church at San Blas -- Longfellow's last poem was about the Bells of San Blas, although he never visited here.

Tropical decor at Hotel Maria, where showers in clean facilities are 25 pesos and you get a serenade by four parrots

The Fruteria at the Mercado was a color spectacle at least as good as the big one in Mazatlan

MAZ ANCHORAGE: EASY ON THE EYE, HARD ON THE NOSE

Dawn at the old Maz anchorage. When the wind's off the sea, you can't smell the sewage and it's a lovely place to hang your hook. Unless you smell the rendering plant
•••

Both "Sol Mate" and "Bliss" need fuel and water and there are issues with both here at the old Mazatlan anchorage. The fuel dock is meant for ferries and is very difficult to work with for smaller boats like ours, and the water is yellowish and suspect. There's also the odor from the sewage plant across the street, and, when the wind shifts, another stink wafts across the water that the Capt swears is from a rendering plant. Add to that the fact that there seems to be a space problem: three times we've had to move at the request of neighboring vessels that we might, with an unfavorable wind, get too close to. The Capt says if he has his druthers, he will not stay in the anchorage again. A pity, considering the only cost of staying there is a $3 docking fee for the dinghy. Imagine a $3/day cost of living!

Chica and Sofia cozy up to the Capt on the helm as we make the short but choppy run to Mazatlan Marina

So we've moved to Marina Mazatlan for a couple of nights' stay. We fortunately lined up two slips side by side, and directly across from our old friends on "Came to Believe." The rate is the same as last year. We did find that there's a new 20% surcharge on diesel, so we've decided to buy only what we need to get us to San Blas, a 25-hour trip, and fill up there. Since Pemex prices are government regulated, the only way providers can rake in extra profits is by adding on these surcharges. Some tack them onto the price of the fuel, others charge the boat for tying up at the dock, and some do BOTH!


Today we're hoping to visit the Mercado in Old Town, which would have been a short trip from the anchorage but oh, well...

Tomorrow we sail for San Blas. Time to dig out the no-see-um repellent!

DAWN IN MAZATLAN, TIME FOR SLEEP

The breakwater at the anchorage is bristling with cement "piloncillos" (piloncillos are those sugar cones you see everywhere in Mexican markets)

Cave rock near the mouth of the anchorage at Mazatlan. I've always wanted to explore that cave!

The Capt was up all night, taking one long watch because of the rough seas that started in the early afternoon and the presence of many fishing boats.Not the greatest conditions for fishing, but they were out in force. I stretched out on the settee with Chica wedged against me for warmth and security.

Our concern that we’d arrive at Mazatlan anchorage in the dark went the way of the usual worries. Not only did we arrive at dawn, but the entrance is very easy. We did have to watch make way for a cruise ship. The Princess Dawn gave an imperious five blasts of her horn just as a pilot boat approached with a man on deck frantically waving at us to change course.

Once Her Majesty had swept by, we entered the harbor and found dozens of sailboats anchored, some of which I remembered from other ports. Lots of big sailboats that would have had to pay major bucks at the marina for an end tie were here instead, since they have all the house systems they require and don’t need no stinkin’ marina.

Our friends on Sol Mate are still a couple of hours behind, so I’m waiting to greet them. We’re “parked” near the Club Nautico, the closest thing the anchorage has to a provider of services for boaters. I’m wondering if they have decent bathrooms and showers. Are there water taxis? Where’s the nearest laundry? How much has the place changed since I was last year, about ten years ago? Are we walking distance from Old Town (probably not). I’m trying to suppress my growing desire to jump in a water taxi, go catch a pulmonia and do some exploring. I can sympathize with Sophie, who’s so anxious to get to land when we’ve been out several days, she’ll stand in the bow of the dinghy watching the shore and howl. Maybe we could howl in harmony if I could figure out what key she’s in.

PHOSPHORESCENT PHISHIES

The girls dealt with the constant motion by keeping a low profile and sleeping. This is Chica's first long passage and she's been handling it like a true salty dog

A night of glassy seas, the water so calm I could see phosphorescent phishies swimming by and one big star laid a long golden path from the horizon to our boat. Still calm this morning when I took this shot (I’m a sucker for water reflection photos) but the glassiness has been replaced by tiny wavelets. We’re still motoring, obviously.

The Capt put in some time improving our SSB radio before we left, and now we can hear the Oracle, Don from Oxnard on the Summer Passage Net, relating his wisdom on the weather for the day. If we stay close to shore, we’ll have no wind until late this afternoon, he reports. Well, we’re not in a hurry at this point anyway, since our nav system says we’ll arrive there in 20 hours, well after daylight, at our current speed. It wouldn’t do to get there in the dark, we decided after looking at a closeup chart of their narrow channel into the anchorage.

I’m looking forward to staying in the harbor this time, because it’s close to Old Town, which I prefer to the touristy Gold Zone near the marinas.

BRING ON THE DOLPHINS!

Sol Mate against a wall of fog that enveloped us much of the afternoon

Bright sunshine with 3 hours heavy fog in the afternoon
1800 hours
Position: N 26 46.34" W 110 32.58"

Leaving San Carlos promptly at 2 am, we crept past the Mohawk, the rock formation at the opening of the anchorage and turned south. Destination Mazatlan.

It’s been a remarkably calm ride, these past sixteen hours , with almost glassy seas. The morning was partly cloudy, then clear. And then we headed into a low fog bank and had to depend on our radar for at least three hours. We could see our buddy boat “Sol Mate,” but, otherwise we had the Sea to ourselves.

We’ve kept our VHF radio on channel 18, and check in now and then. “Sol Mate” reported they saw a large pod of dolphins this morning, but we were below putting the boat in order and missed it.

Around 3pm I looked out and the fogbank was off to the west of us, with Sol Mate silhouetted against it. We’ve had enough wind to power the mainsail most of the day, but we’ve been motorsailing since we left San Carlos. We’re on a course of 135 degrees, making an average of a little over 5 knots. We had been at about 4.5 knots, but the Capt figured out at that speed we would be passing Topolobampo at sunset. Because of the rat’s nest of fishing nets around the channel mouth at Topo, we didn’t want to be passing there in the dark. I’ve heard from two different cruisers who had to be led through the labyrinth of nets by pangas because they were trying to get through at night. One had a net caught in his propellor. So we increased our speed and now expect to pass Topo around noon. Amazing the difference a half-knot can make.

We’re traveling without refrigeration this time, as our unit failed and it would cost more to fix it than we paid for it. We’re using a Coleman Extreme cooler with a five-pound bag of ice and several containers of frozen food, and so far the cooler has maintained 32 degrees. If we never had to open it, we could probably maintain that temp for a couple of days at least, but we do have an icemaker on board, so we will try to augment our supply since we’re motoring anyway and we have plenty of electricity.