What a Difference a Week Makes!
We really like La Paz. It is a city with a small-town feel, friendly people, interesting waterfront, fine provisioning, good restaurants and few tourists. It feels unspoiled and original. How long this will last is anyone’s guess for change is definitely in the works for this city and its people. Large condo complexes, luxury home sites and resorts are in various stages of construction, but for right now, we will ignore that future influx and just enjoy our favorite Mexican coastal city.
The Coromuels in La Paz truly are gentle breezes, just as our guide books said. In the marina during the day, there is little air movement, and it is hot enough for the air conditioning. In the late afternoon, the breezes start. 8 knots, 10 knots, 12 knots – never much higher than that, but just enough to cool things down. Neglecting to turn the air conditioning off the first night, we wake up cold. From then on, we turn the air off when we go out to dinner, open the windows when we return and enjoy a pleasant night on the boat.
Friday, April 17th – We are unable to leave the marina until 1600 when the tide is finally high enough for us to exit without hitting bottom. At that hour, we do not have enough time to sail to an anchorage before dark. Instead we exit the marina and continue down the Canal De La Paz toward the city where we can anchor in an area nicknamed the ‘Virtual Marina”. Quite a while ago, construction started on a marina. The pylons are visible, but nothing else is there. One anchors in the general area of this would-be marina. Eventually, a “marina” attendant will motor out in a panga to collect a small “marina” fee which pays for the use of the dinghy dock and the showers that were built to go with this marina. Thus the term “Virtual Marina”. Maybe in time the fees will be enough to continue construction. Who knows?
The long, narrow channel into La Paz creates a strong current as the tides change. Boats move with the current pulled one way and then another, but since all boats move at different rates depending upon size, shape, and position in relation to current and wind, at the beginning of each tidal change, boats can be seen in all directions and orientations to each other. Eventually, all boats end up facing the same way as they are pulled out on their anchor chain by the tidal current. This daily 180-degree rotation back and forth is locally called the “La Paz Waltz”. We had watched it from land. Now we are anchored out here and part of the dance.
Saturday, April 18th – For the next 3 weeks, we will cruise the legendary Sea of Cortez. We are looking forward to remote anchorages, abundant sea life and striking beauty. Our plans are to go as far north as Loreto, the original capital of Baja. The coastline is sparsely inhabited. Small fishing villages and even smaller fishing camps will be all we find along the way. In preparation, Captain and First Mate equipped Avante for travel without the possibility of provisioning or refueling for 3 weeks. The First Mate began her initial planning back in Puerto Vallarta where she bought and had frozen 6 weeks’ worth of meat and fish, acknowledging to herself that one can hope to catch fish, but one better not plan on it
After our recent Coromuel experiences, we opt to by-pass the islands of Espiritu Santo and Partida. We have had enough of their wind tunnel anchorages. Instead, we will continue further north to Isla San Francisco. We raise anchor at 0800 and begin motoring out of La Paz channel. In a little over an hour, we are clear of the channel and have the sails up, the engine off and are tacking our way north in the Bahia de La Paz. The fishing line is put out, but all we catch is a nasty Mexican Black Skipjack which goes back. By mid-afternoon, we have 20 knots from N and put in a reef. Our sails don’t come down until we are outside The Hook on Isla San Francisco. Anchoring by 1900, it’s a long day, but what a great day! We sailed all day. Maybe the winds are cooperating this week. Forget this nighttime wind stuff. We want daytime wind!
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Sunday, April 19th – A Savor day! After a peaceful night at anchor (as it should be), we launch the dinghy and head ashore to hike to the top of the east end of the ridge we had hiked with the Rowleys a week earlier.
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Volcanic rock is not a comfortable perch. Temperatures are up over what they were a mere week ago, and a breather on top is needed. The view is worthy of contemplation.
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Looking down over the edge, we are amazed at how clear the water is.
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Hiking down to the salt flats and across to the north end of the island, the desert colors of the rocks and plant life catch The First Mate’s eye.
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Our goal is to climb to the top of the northern ridge on the other side of the two bays, but there is no trail as there was on the first climb. Here we have to pick our way, scrambling up steep, loose volcanic scree. After a hot, rough climb, we are forced to stop short of the top by the increasing probability of slipping on the steep incline. Neither of us is encouraged by the sharp rock pieces and prickly plants awaiting a misstep.
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Though not at the very top, the views from the height we do attain are impressive. We can see both the east and west anchorages on Isla San Francisco, and Isla Espiritu Santa can be seen way in the distance.
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By mutual consent, we agree that going back down the way we had come up would probably not be the safest or smartest thing to do. Instead, we forge our way down the ridge to the shore, hoping that the tide will still be out enough so we do not have to swim part of the way back to the east cove. The going down is not easy, but at least we are not slipping and sliding over loose, sharp shale.
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Sometimes The First Mate wonders if she really would follow The Captain to the ends of the earth. The good news so far is that she has always returned from wherever he has led and in one piece, too!
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Tides are with us. The rest of the way back along the shore is still rough, but, after the dry heat of the heights, the cooler temperatures along the shore are a relief.
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Back on Avante, we dive in for a refreshing swim. What a difference a week makes! Last Sunday, air and water temperatures did not inspire any desire for a swim. Now, even though the water takes a bit of getting used to (for The First Mate at least), the air temperature is hot enough that a swim is delightful. We shower on the aft deck enjoying the fact that this was not something we ever did when sailing in the Pacific Northwest.
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From Isla San Francisco north to Loreto, the dramatic Sierra Giganta Mountain range puts on a spectacular show. As we motor out of the anchorage, the striated, multi-colored ridges of the mountains reflect the sun’s rays creating a kaleidoscope of changing shapes and colors in every direction one looks.
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From the water’s edge, these mountains push up, layer upon layer, ridge upon ridge, to steep, impenetrable heights. They call to mind images of Monument Valley and the high desert mesa land of Arizona and New Mexico that The First Mate never tires of driving through on their trips between homes in Scottsdale and Telluride. She will never tire of looking at that land, nor will she tire of this dramatic beauty either.
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Volcanoes formed this land. Everywhere one looks there is evidence of the massive power of heat, explosion and uplifting that went into creating this landscape. Volcanic rock, parched soil, layers of sediment, fissures and ridges, it is definitely a land that has seen it all. The First Mate marvels at this landscape and is glad she was not around when it was forming.
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No wonder there are so few villages along this coast. Level areas large enough to provide space for a grouping of small buildings are few and far between.
The villages that do cling to this coast are mostly small, isolated fishing villages. We imagine they might have first been fishing camps where the men stayed and fished for a few weeks. A spot was found with enough flat land to set up their rudimentary huts and drying facilities for their fish. Gradually, wives and children joined them and opted to stay full time. Perhaps, frustrated that the only way in or out was from the sea, a more adventuresome soul or two tried to climb up and out with the goal of connecting to the one main route that runs up and down the Baja Peninsula. A trail was forged that eventually was widened into a dirt road. For the few villages that do have a road, it is a tortuous, winding, steep climb often 25 or more miles up before connecting to the main highway. Connected or not, these little settlements remain isolated and very poor. Income comes from fishing, and their lives appear to revolve around the essentials of existence. Pondering this while thinking of the excesses, tensions and turmoil of the world at large, The First Mate thinks that perhaps a life based only on essentials might not be so bad.
Monday, April 20th – We are going to attempt another anchoring in Amortajada Bay so we can dinghy to the lagoon. Last week, not only did we have trouble setting an anchor, but the winds started gusting over 20 knots making it unwise for us to leave Avante unattended in this shallow area of shifting sands and abrupt shoaling ridges.
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We pull into Amortajada Bay and are delighted that the early morning calm continues. Though shallow areas do show up in lighter blue shades, we still manage to glide onto a sand bar that has migrated well out from shore. We are stuck in the muck but not concerned. With a rising tide, we know we will float off eventually. The Captain, however, is not one to wait patiently. He guns the engine forward and backward. To be noted is the fact that The First Mate remembers to pull in the dinghy painter so it does not get entangled in the prop as it did in Canada. In less than 10 minutes, we have swung ourselves free of the muck. We then drop anchor in an area not far from the shallow areas but far enough for swing room. There is no wind. Everything is still. We feel secure enough to leave Avante for an hour or so to dinghy ashore into the lagoon.
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By 0920, we are in The Dingbat coasting slowly through the mangroves toward the lagoon. The water is clear enough to clearly see a variety of small fish below us. Curious puffer fish swim up close to inspect us. From deep in the mangroves, we can hear the songs of various birds. Doves call out sweetly, but we cannot see them.
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Seagulls, frigates, pelicans and cranes fly overhead.
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Many are perched in branches carefully watching us glide by.
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A crane watches us slowly glide toward him and then takes off as we approach too close for his liking.
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Sighting Avante across from the river as we exit, we find that she has been under the vigilant guard of a squad of pelicans.
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In the early afternoon, we anchor off some old salt mining ruins at Punta Salinas and head ashore for a walk along the beach.
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We spot an old wrecked truck that can’t believe its luck. Sure beats the view in any junkyard!
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We anchored for the night off San Evaristo. While ashore, we watched a fishing boat come in, and we bought a very fresh sea bass from the fisherman.
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What a difference a mere week has made in the winds and temperatures since the Rowleys were with us. Blasted then by the Coromuels all night long, now they are not anywhere near as explosive. We have been able to sail more as the daytime winds have been more robust. We have also been able to go more places and do more without being deterred by the wind. Importantly, the temperature has increased inviting us to swim and snorkel in the beautiful, clear waters. We know they had a great time with us on Avante, but how we wish they had been able to experience this place just one week later. What a difference a week makes!