Do Not Believe Everything You Read

From the “Mexican Boating Guide”, a comprehensive nautical guide to the waters of Mexico, comes the following words of wisdom: “The Coromuel wind is unique to La Paz. It is usually a gentle breeze that begins from the S around sunset and dies at sunrise or mid morning, relieving the heat and humidity.”

From The First Mate’s notes come these words of experience: “Don’t believe everything you read!“

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Tuesday, April 7th – Our Savor Day in Playa La Bonanza was much enjoyed. The only minor negative was the filet from the large Mexican Tunny we had caught the previous day. (At last, we now have properly identified it and can give it a name.) The First Mate cooked it for lunch, and as we both suspected, its dark red meat had a heavy, gamey taste that, mildly stated, was not to our liking. The remainder went over the side. Silently, The First Mate asked King Neptune his forgiveness for having killed and then not appreciated one of his offerings to us, but, no matter what King Neptune might think, we have decided to return to the sea any more such fish we catch. Dorados are another matter. For the Dorado we caught on the way into Bonanza, The First Mate thanked King Neptune profusely.

Wednesday, April 8th – We arrive in La Paz in the late morning, timed to be just before high tide. The harbor of La Paz is a big, wide-open bay, deceivingly riddled with sand bars and shoals. To get to the anchorages and marinas on the city side of the bay, one has to navigate the narrow Canal de la Paz which is said to be dredged to a least depth of 12 feet. Wander off this channel, and you will be embarrassingly stuck in a muddy shoal out in the wide open for the whole La Paz viewing public to see. Fortunately, the channel is well buoyed.

We enter slowly, watching the depth meter. At a particularly narrow section, it drops to 12 feet, but we see nothing lower than that. Arriving at the entrance jetty of Marina Palmira Yacht Club, where we have a confirmed berth, we enter. Here, too, we watch that depth meter, crawling slowly along and ready to do a quick reverse as depths briefly show 10 feet in one section. Marina attendants await us at our slip. The First Mate turns Avante around and backs into the berth, earning Avante a compliment from the captain of a neighboring boat. “She sure backs down nicely.” Yes, she does!

Del and Dave Rowley, friends from Scottsdale, will arrive in town later today, driving up from Cabo San Lucas with a rental car. We will, therefore, have a car in La Paz. How delightful! As with all our boat guests, we had asked them to make hotel reservations for their first night just in case we were delayed for some reason. The Captain and The First Mate spend the afternoon giving Avante a much needed fresh-water wash down and cleaning. Then we give ourselves a much needed fresh-water wash down. Laundry is done by a woman who comes to the boat to pick it up and then returns it 2 hours later, neatly sorted and folded. “What a nice service”, thinks The First Mate and wishes someone would always show up at the boat every time they pulled into a marina with an offer to do laundry.

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We spend the next day provisioning. Though our list is not a long one, provisioning in a new port-of-call is always a challenge. Can you find what you want? If not, can you do without or will something else substitute? What is this strange looking vegetable? How does one cook it? “I’ll just take it home to Avante and see what the cookbooks say!” thinks The First Mate. If a local Mercado is near and open, The First Mate will go there first, for that is where the freshest produce can be found, as well as the best prices. Most often the Mercado is inside a huge open building with various vendors setting up shop in individual stalls. Produce spills out in tempting displays.

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Our shopping trip takes us first to the local Mercado for fresh produce and then to 2 larger supermarkets for the non-perishable items. On the way, we also hunt up a scuba store so that Del and Dave can rent snorkel gear to explore the beautiful waters of Mexico. Even with the rental car to get us where we need to go quickly, it takes the better part of the day to locate and purchase everything we need or want. With the provisioning done and the snorkel gear found and all on the boat and stored, we are ready to leave the next morning. That night we dine at “Las Tres Vírgenes” again – no sense wasting a good find!

With the provisioning done, on the boat and stored, we are ready to leave the next morning. That night we dine at “Las Tres Vírgenes” again – no sense wasting a good find!

The Rowleys are enthusiastic people and have done a good many adventurous activities, but they have never spent a full 24 hours on a small sailboat. They have listened to our stories of explorations on Avante and have been reading this blog. Noting that we have always returned from wherever we went and being trusting souls and good friends, they decide to take us up on our invitation to join the adventuring. They have signed on for six days in a very popular cruising area around the islands north of La Paz, and we all think that is a fair experiment for their first time cruising on a sailboat.

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We do have a somewhat complicated system for the aft head. Both heads on Avante are vacuum flush units which mean one only needs to step on a pedal to flush — a great improvement over the traditional marine head with its hand-pump system. The aft head, in addition to being a vacuum flush, also has a Lectra/san unit, a system that combines electric current with salt water to “fry” waste and sanitize the stuff coming out of the boat. When using the “fryer”, one needs to step on the flush pedal, wait 3 seconds, then push a button on the “fryer” control making sure the correct little light goes on. In addition, prior to flushing, one needs to verify that a valve has been turned in the right direction depending upon whether we are at sea, at anchor or in dock. It really is not complicated unless one is totally new to the system. We have discovered that some of our guests understand the procedure right from the start, some take a time or two to figure it out, and some never quite get it. Del and Dave fall happily into the first two categories.

Feeling that enough information has been dispensed for the moment, we set off to explore the Sea of Cortez. Our intended anchorage is one of the coves on the western side of either Isla Espiritu Santo or Isla Partida, which are about 20nm away. Winds are light, but we are able to sail for a few hours.

We anchor in Ensenada el Cardonal, one of several popular anchorages on Isla Partida, and head ashore to follow a trail through a canyon. The trail borders a mangrove marsh and leads to the other side of the island.

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About the time we are all thinking about settling in for the night, a big wind gust howls down the bay, slams against the boat and then continues across the island funneling through that canyon we had hiked. With the wind now blowing into the bay and gusting at over 25 knots, The Captain goes above to check out how Avante is sitting. As he is monitoring the scene, the anchor alarm goes off indicating that our position has altered. This would be due either to a change in wind direction or because the anchor is dragging.

Earlier when we were anchoring in this large bay, The Captain was talked into going further into the bay than he normally would have chosen by The First Mate. She wanted the more picturesque setting of being nestled in closer to shore for the Rowleys’ first night on Avante. Ensenada el Cardonal shallows out a long way, and we were still quite far from shore when The Captain started to anchor in 25 feet. Reluctantly, he acquiesced to The First Mate and moved in closer to shore to a depth of 15 feet. When we anchored, winds and seas were quiet, and an expected full moon would cut the darkness of the night if anything did happen. Now, the strong wind and building seas, coming straight down the bay, are pushing us toward shore, and there is not a lot of room behind us before our 9-foot keel could hit bottom. When winds are heavy, (and when anchored further out) we normally just let out more anchor chain which puts less pull on the anchor, but this close to shore, we have no room to do that.

We are now anchored off a lee shore with heavy winds and building seas, and really have no choice. Despite the howling wind, the rough seas and the dark (full moon or not, it’s dark), we need to move the boat and re-anchor. Quickly, all hands scramble on deck. The engine is started. The Captain starts pulling up the anchor. At the helm, The First Mate sees 12 feet on the depth meter. Even though the anchor is still being raised and not back on the boat, she engages the engine to keep Avante from sliding back further into the shallows. We then head out into the middle of the bay to re-anchor. Anchor dropped. When we back down hard on the anchor to ensure that it is well set, the anchor begins dragging in the soft bottom. Up comes the anchor, and we motor to another location to try again. This time the bottom is firmer, and the anchor bites in and holds. We know it is well set if it holds against this wind and the boat backing down. While we all let out a sigh of relief, The Captain lets out some more anchor chain for extra security. This nighttime reanchoring exercise was not fun. The First Mate decides that never again will she push for a closer to shore anchoring location. At the same time, she ponders if Del and Dave are wondering if this cruising was such a good idea after all!

Though we are now safely anchored, we are not totally comfortable. Winds are strong, and the boat is rocking and rolling in the choppy seas. The anchor alarm is set and explained, and with that, we all head for our berths. For the rest of the night, the winds continue to blow. Sometime after midnight, they drop to about 15 to 20 knots, and The Captain and First Mate hope things will start to settle down, but an hour later, they are back up to gusting at over 25 knots. These are the nighttime Coromuels, the “gentle breezes unique to the La Paz” area”! The Captain and The First Mate sleep lightly and watchfully. Even with that anchor alarm, we keep an eye on things. Nights like this do not happen often, but we have learned to keep alert and ready to take action if necessary.

Morning light comes with lower winds, but they are still well into the teens. The churned-up seas have Avante rocking from side to side. No one would have called the winds of last night “gentle” or this anchorage restful. To The First Mate, the blow created by these Coromuels was totally unexpected, and she wonders just what she missed in her reading of the cruising guidebooks. She does not remember reading anything noteworthy about these winds other than that they occur occasionally during the spring and summer and are found in the La Paz area. She gathers together the three Mexican cruising books they have aboard Avante to re-read. According to “Sea of Cortez”, one of the cruisers’ guides, “the cause of these winds results from the low land southwest of La Paz, which allows the cool air from the Pacific Ocean to flow across the Baja peninsula to the warmer Sea of Cortez”. These winds, therefore, blow from the south or southwest, but why be concerned about an occasional “gentle breeze” that helps cool things down? Reading further, she does find one mention that they can sometimes cause navigation problems. “Navigation problems” is not explained, but “gentle breezes” do not cause navigational problems! A further hint shows up as she looks at the descriptions of the anchorages around the greater La Paz area. All guides talk about the wind protection of any anchoring spot, but one guide specifically mentions protection from the Coromuels. It states that in “any bay open to the west and southwest, there is no protection from night time Coromuels”. The First Mate quickly realizes that she let herself be duped by thoughts of “gentle breezes” and did not then pay attention to other clues that tell a different story about Coromuels. A bit miffed, she decides that if she were writing one of these guidebooks, she would not mince words —-

“Beware and be warned. These may be gentle breezes in La Paz itself, but out on the islands, they are heavy-duty winds that can cause extremely uncomfortable seas and dislodge well-set anchors. They start in the late afternoon to early evening. They howl all night. No need to ponder a peaceful night’s sleep. It will not happen. They don’t just arrive, swirl around nicely and peter out. No, they are looking for an outlet. Any bay or cove facing west is a target. If you pick such a cove, especially one with a canyon or low-lying area at the end of it, be prepared, for those low-lying areas give The Coromuel an outlet for its energy. It will whistle into your bay, significantly increasing in intensity as it funnels in and through the narrow walls of the canyon and across the flat land. You have effectively anchored in a wind tunnel. Not the best of decisions, but a hard one to avoid on the islands north of La Paz where 90% of all recommended anchorages are exposed to the west and vulnerable to the nighttime Coromuels. Good luck, or, as they say down here, ‘Vaya con Dios’.”

Del and Dave endured an interesting first night on Avante. They did not know a boat could make so much noise or bounce and roll from side to side so much or how difficult it was to uncurl oneself and climb out of an unstable aft berth in the middle of the night to go to the head. To our relief, they show up in the morning laughing and eager to start the day. Cappuccinos and breakfast are served.

All on board Avante are eager to be on the move rather than rolling around at anchor. We motor out of the bay, then raise sails and enjoy a brisk sail over to Isla San Francisco. The Captain, anticipating another round of nighttime winds, chooses to anchor in the eastern bay, as it looks like it should offer more shelter from any Coromuels coming from the southwest. The Dingbat is launched, and with beach towels and books in hand, we hike across a dry lake to a cove on the west side of the island. There an expanse of white beach beckons.

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The big question for tonight is The Coromuels. Will they arrive? When will they arrive? How strong will they be: gentle breezes or howling tempests? Not wanting to keep us guessing, they are up by the time we return to The Dingbat. Wind-churned seas are up, too. Thus, an interesting time is had by all as we launch into the rolling surf. First one on gets to haul the next one on and then the next. It’s a comic scene and an ordeal (which most boat launchings down here are), but, exhausted and wet, we are all on. Engine starts. Great! Off we go. Bashing through the waves back to Avante proves to be a thoroughly cold and inundating experience, especially for the gals sitting in the bow of The Dingbat.

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Back on Avante, we treat ourselves to Clamdiggers and a robust breakfast of egg and sausage burritos. Later in the afternoon, we pull anchor to head over to the opposite bay on Isla San Francisco, or the Hook as it is called. The Captain has been monitoring wind reports, and it looks like this anchorage will work for tonight. Winds are up to 15 – 20 knots as we motor around the point to the western bay. This is great sailing weather, but with only a couple of miles to go to get around the point, we decide to just motor. It is still blowing when we anchor, but eventually winds diminish enough so that we enjoy a much calmer night. Maybe, just maybe, our bout with the Coromuels is past. Del and Dave are up with laughter and smiles in the morning. Yes, these two are turning into good sailors!

Monday, April 13th – Laguna Amortajada (Shrouded Lagoon), the largest mangrove lagoon in the Sea of Cortez, is located near the southern tip of Isla San Jose. Though anchoring in the shallow waters with shifting sand bars is tricky, we read that the dinghy trip through the lagoon with all its interesting wild life is worth the effort. We decide to motor over to this island and anchor for a couple of hours while we launch the dingy and explore. The weather is calm as we set off. In little over an hour, we are entering the bay of the lagoon. The turquoise water extending out from the shore clearly shows where the shallow waters are. We enter slowly, circling around our anchoring spot to verify depth. We drop the anchor and slowly back down on it. It catches, holds and then releases, slipping through the muck before finally catching again and holding securely. Unfortunately, this now puts us too close to the shallow edges where Avante might be pulled if wind or current change direction. We lift the anchor and move further out to try again. The water gets deep quickly, and we are now attempting to anchor in 50 to 60 feet. Three times we try with growing frustration. Each time, the anchor just will not catch and hold. While we are intent on this anchoring exercise, we are mindful of a rising wind. After the fourth attempt, a serious look at the winds, which were now gusting over 20 knots, tells us that good anchor set or not, there is too much wind and too much shallow water nearby for us to comfortably leave Avante unattended off a lee shore while we go off exploring.

Disappointed, we head across to San Evaristo, a sleepy little fishing village, where we plan to anchor for the night, consoling ourselves with thoughts of the fresh fish we are going to buy from the local fishermen. The bay of San Evaristo contains 2 lobes. We would like to anchor in the smaller, more picturesque one. Though there are several boats already at anchor, we do see a spot for Avante near the entrance to the cove. We head in and drop the anchor in 60 feet of water. It sets nicely, but as we sit watching Avante swing in relation to the other boats around us, we realize that either a strange current or wind pattern caused by the curvature of the steep rock walls of the bay is swinging us too close to another boat. It would be fine if that boat were swinging away from us as we were swinging toward it. This is what usually happens at anchor, but not here. All the boats appear to be moving in different directions – all in response to either that wind or current which we cannot see or feel. Whatever is at work, this will not do. Up comes the anchor again. We certainly are paying anchor dues today! 

We head into the larger lobe of the bay directly in front of the town’s beach. Our first attempt to anchor here is stymied by the anchor skipping over rocks, but finally we have a good set. Triumphantly, The Captain gives a thumbs up approval. Let’s launch The Dingbat and go buy our fish!

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Gusts are up into the high teens, but as they are blowing out to sea, they are not as threatening nor do they seem to have quite the same punch. Sheltered or not, punch or not, it is still a rocky night.

In the middle of the night, both The Captain and The First Mate go up on deck to check things out. This is part of our normal nighttime routine. Get up, hit the head, check out the boat. Del, from their aft berth near the cockpit stairs, hears noises on deck. Peeking out the small window which looks into the cockpit, she sees feet. Whose feet? Where did they come from? Somewhat unnerved by the memory of the huge knife our fish monger wielded, her mind conjures up pirates. They are sneaking aboard! What to do? Does she raise the alarm, pound on the wall? No, she stealthily gets up without waking Dave, locks their door, creeps back into bed and snuggles up to a sleeping husband who is totally unaware that pirates are just inches above his head! A lot of help she would have been if there had really been pirates! Next time we’ll give her the foghorn whose blast is enough to wake the dead. She can blast that from inside her locked stateroom. The First Mate questions Crewman Del, “With pirates on board, you were able to go back to sleep?” She explains that with the way Captain and First Mate have handled the boat, the winds and the anchoring, she knew we could handle the pirates, too, and decided to leave them to us! The First Mate appreciates the confidence, but what if we really had being boarded by an unsavory group? A little screaming might have helped! There are not pirates down here, thankfully, but the story gives us all a good laugh over breakfast.

Tuesday, April 14th – Today we begin the return trip to La Paz. Plans are to sail south to Caleta Partida, the bay between the two islands of Espirito Santo and Isla Partida. After our Coromuel experiences, we are not particularly excited about another night at these islands, but the distance to an alternative anchorage would mean a marathon day. We motor out at 0830 in light 5 knot winds. Still laughing over Del’s caper, we have breakfast on deck and, by 0945, are able to raise sail in a brisk 15 -18 knots. We tack past Isla San Francisco where we anchored several days earlier. 

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By 1620, we are anchored in Caleta Partido. We are anchored in the southeast section of this western facing bay based on the advice in one of our guidebooks that “some boats choose to anchor in the southeast portion of the cove to help lessen the Coromuel wind effects.” It is relatively calm, and we are hopeful, but the calm conditions don’t last long. The Coromuels are arriving! Our plans to launch the dinghy to explore ashore are stymied by the mounting winds. White caps now surround us, temperatures have dropped, and no one is interested in a bouncy, wet dinghy ride.

It is our last night together aboard Avante, and the Coromuels give us their best. They howl all night from the west, barreling into our bay then crossing the low land at the head of the bay and blowing out into the Sea of Cortez. We regularly see 25 – 30 knots with an occasional 35-knot gust. It is another wild, rough night. The Coromuels blasted us for the entire night. They were still blowing that strong at 0500.

Wednesday, April 15 – . Even at 1035 when we raised anchor and motored out, the wind in the anchorage was at 15 – 20 knots. As we exited the enclosing walls of the bay, those winds began to drop. By the time we are out of the bay, winds are down to a benign 10 knots. As we sail down the west coast of Isla Espiritu Santo, we take a good look at the island and fully understand the how and why to these Coromuels out on Espiritu Santo and Isla Partida. Both of these islands are steep and mountainous, and these mountains block the Coromuel winds from blowing across the Bahia de La Paz to the Sea of Cortez. They do, however, have a number of canyons cutting deeply across from one coast to the other. That is where the winds will go. Each of these canyons, with their narrowing walls, compresses and accelerates the wind causing the Coromuels to howl through any bay and anchorage within it. Mother Nature’s natural wind tunnel at work! Where are all the lovely anchorages that the guidebooks recommend? In those same bays and coves. What the guidebooks do not say is “Beware the winds during Coromuel season.” When is Coromuel season? Spring and Summer. The Captain and First Mate have learned by first hand experience and will be prepared when they do return up here again. The First Mate, who has finally begun to think of herself as a sailor, wonders what it would be like if the Coromuels blew out here during the day, all day! What would a full day of constant, steady high wind be like? When, where does that happen? On the way to the Marquesas? Hmm-m-m-m?

We are able to sail most of the way to La Paz, though we do spend the last hour motorsailing in winds of around 5 knots. (Never saw 5 knots last night!) We motor down the channel to the marina. Marina hands are once again there to help with the lines.

Thursday, April 16th – Our last evening with Del and Dave is spent at Las Tres Vírgenes over another excellent dinner. We talk over the highlights of 6 days at sea, and we are delighted to hear both of our new crew saying they are eager to return for further adventuring aboard the sailing vessel Avante – just perhaps not during Coromuel season.