Anchor News: Sampaguita pitched her way through a good 24+ hours of 20-30 knot winds in Bahia Tortuga. A nearby boat said they recorded 32 knots. (Sampaguita has no anemometer.) I did know it was coming which is why I stayed in Tortuga. I was a little concerned. I had enough room to let out 30 more feet of anchor rode, and the anchor remained well set. I don’t have a windlass, so I’ve theorized some Sampaguita specific ways to gain mechanical advantage to haul up the anchor in such conditions and other contingency plans and am happy to not yet have had to test them. As a friend has recently said, my minimalist path minimizes my options. It does have its assets and liabilities, for sure. The practical answer to these things Sampaguita doesn’t have would be a different boat. I should have moved the boat on Sunday to the NE corner of the bay, but contrasting weather predictions got the better of me. The NE corner wouldn’t have reduced the wind, but it would have reduced the fetch and the pitching. I got away with it this time. The next day saw gusty conditions ranging from 0-30 knots, but the waves weren’t there so it was less concerning. Under those conditions I don’t want to leave the boat. Plus, the kayak would be difficult-to-impossible (and very wet) to use. Downwind, sure, upwind, no. So, I stayed aboard at anchor watch as one should do. In the end it was just pitchy. You can see throughout the anchorage, the 40’+ boats all pitch half as much as Sampaguita. They bridge the waves better. It’s not that it is uncomfortable. It’s the tugging at the anchor that’s worrisome. On the positive side, bad decisions make better stories.

Sampaguita spent the American Thanksgiving Day in Bahia Asunción, arriving in the morning after an overnight trip from Bahia Tortuga. On Wednesday morn we played the game of “what ifs” and “what abouts” pulling up the anchor. The wind was about 15-20 knots and the boat was pitching a bit. After weathering the blow noted above (which after landing in Bahia Asunción and learning what they experienced, was nothing. They had 45 knots and a much more adventurous time.) it was forefront in my mind to practice and try some of my new theories. (Some of us love the “what ifs and abouts” games, right, Jim S.?) After pulling tediously, and with considerable effort, the first 60 feet of nylon rode and then the first 50 feet of chain, the last 30 feet of chain was too much. Mind you, I’m in about 20-25 feet of water. That anchor was very well set from the blow and wouldn’t budge. Good news, really, right? The pitching pulled the chain from my hands 6 inches by 6 inches, and the strain was painful on the hands. I had to resort to letting back out the previous 50 feet of chain, taking a rest and rethinking my approach. I hadn’t started the engine yet as part of the game and ultimately this was how I got the anchor to release quite easily. (I considered sailing off anchor, but with that much wind, and Sampaguita pinned to the bottom, experience says she will power up considerably, and the single-hander pulling chain up at the bow can’t release the sheet and de-power her. That is fraught with danger.) But first I set up a line from the sheet winch, through the storm jib block, and to the bow with a chain hook on it to give me mechanical advantage and to hold the chain, as Sampaguita’s anchor cleat is more rode friendly than chain friendly. This allowed me to partially pull in and hold the chain, but still provide a segment of elasticity to the pitching bow as well as give me mechanical advantage. Then it was a game of hustle. Start the motor, go to the bow, pull in some chain, set the chain hook, back to the cockpit, adjust the winch so the line is in a good fairlead spot, back to the bow, haul in some more chain, reset the chain hook, back to the cockpit, increase the throttle of the engine just enough to get a tiny bit of forward motion, back to the bow, haul in the rest of the chain and anchor, secure it quickly, then navigate Sampaguita through the boats, get the already triple reefed main sail up and then run off out of the bay. Then it was easy peasy. Set up the Windpilot and you move from heavy laborer to supervisor, tidy up and secure everything, and be on your way. 

That nice North wind, under triple reef and 80% jib, carried us most of the 60 miles to Bahia Asunción through the day and early eve. We could have pushed a little harder, but we don’t do that as a rule. We save the rig for when we have to. Much too late to enter the bay, we meandered about through the night off of Isla San Roque and waited till the daylight for our entrance. With the anchor down about 1100 local time, I was greeted by Grant of Mundial (a Downeaster 38?), who was inviting me to the cruiser’s potluck at Shari Bondy’s house/hotel at 1400 hours on the peninsula. (Mundial had a harrowing tale to tell in their blow, but that is Grant and Noel’s story. All’s well, that ends well, and lessons were learned by everybody.) I got it together in time enough to attend and had turkey (with gravy!) and other delicious baked foods I haven’t had in months. High style.

Observation: Pelicans are the seagulls of Baja Mexico. They are responsible for the nasty flavor of guano that a cruiser becomes so familiar with. You have to keep them off your boat or they will create a very unpleasant frosting. They haven’t roosted on Sampaguita yet, but I have shoo-ed away a couple from the kayak. Last night I came to realize something. I could hear them outside feeding, so I would intermittently get up to make sure they were not getting comfortable. After watching them for a few minutes I was wondering what it was about my boat that they might be attracted to. I have a very bright anchor light. It is atop the mast, but it does not light up the deck of the boat because the base is so close to the top. This creates a shadow. However, that shadow does create a halo of light at about a ten-meter radius on the water. About eight pelicans were sitting around the boat in that halo and feeding like crazy. It occurred to me that the bright halo of LED light was helping them to spot the food in the water, and that was what was attracting them. (As long as they kept their distance, it was cool by me.) It also occurred to me, though this was not quite so obvious, and I am not a marine biologist, that the halo may have also been attracting the organisms they were feeding upon. I was creating an artificial ecosystem. If so, that is another example of human alteration of the natural environment. While I acknowledge it, I do not feel bad. On the grand scale of the human effects on the world, Sampaguita and I can have our 5-watt LED anchor light if we want.

Experience: I was strolling around San Bartolomé the way I do. Solo and slowly, just observing the village and marveling at it, being friendly, saying and waving to passer-bys, whether on foot or in their cars. I walked by a house and someone said “hello.” I turn and responded, we had a few words, and they invite me to have a Tecate. So, I say “Si.” Raul, the main instigator, speaks some Ingles, and he clearly wants to practice it. Obviously, I am a gringo, so I fit the bill. It turns out to be a gathering place for a small group of local fishermen. I gather it is Ramon’s porch, who doesn’t speak Ingles, but as is the custom amongst all humans, follows the socially charismatic leadership of Raul. Through the course of a couple hours several other fishermen congregate and we chat in broken Ingles and broken Espanol, drinking Tecate, them introducing local fruit from the trees in their yard, and Ramon even gave me lobster tail from his freezer. (I ate it that eve. It was delicious.) (He told me to hide it in my bag quickly and not say anything, because, assumingly, some people would disapprove of giving goods to a gringo yatista or would want some themselves.) Lobster boats are everywhere. The San Benito lobster boat wanted to sell me a lobster earlier in the day, which sounds great, right? But experience has told me there is more to consider. In Newfoundland, on Breskell, we had lobster one night. It was delicious. But whole lobsters are a messy affair and the juice squirts everywhere. And gets all over everything, your clothes, your bedding, and there is no laundry, and the boat smells like bad fish for a few days. It’s not worth it. (So Ramon’s dressed out lobster tail was a bigger gift than he likely imagined.) They can tell I’m not your typical yatista. “You are solo?” “No house?” “No kids?” “No friends to travel with?” “Su barco es seis metros?” “We see you have heart. You must be searching for something.” I haven’t seen this kind of spirit in America in years. Maybe I’ve been in the wrong places.

Experience 2: On my Sunday visit to Puerto San Bartolomé, the village on Bahia Tortuga, I came across the local Sunday baseball game. Twenty-five steps into the grand stand and Raymond was inviting me over and offering me a cerveza. So over I go. We can barely communicate, but we try and nobody gets frustrated when we miss the mark. People come and go, some of them I met the day before. (It is a small town.) The teams aren’t that good, but baseball is popular. I have noticed lots of MLB caps wherever I go and the players all wear their favorite. They have mix-match uniforms, but they all have the classic baseball pants on. I don’t know if they have sponsors or not. The field is in OK condition and there are lights, but I don’t know if they work. The home run fence is mostly intact. The catchers share some of the gear and there is one umpire who stands behind the pitcher. The teams are all ages. We have a great time cheering on the good plays regardless of the team. There was no visible scoreboard, so I had no idea which inning it was and what the final score was. There was loud, Mexican music cranked between every pitch. It was a wild time. Raymond is very kind and treats me like Familia. No problema. After the game he invites me to his house and feeds me some pescadoro pico de gallo(?) It is in stark contrast to America where people are very leery of strangers. In Seattle, there is something well known to emigrants called “The Seattle Freeze.” Nobody just invites a stranger over and welcomes them into their home or inner circle. Maybe it has to do with the more you have, the more you are afraid to lose? Food for thought. I have been warned by most of these new amigos about the mafia (this is not the Godfather mafia we traditionally associate with mafia) and I pick up, they too worry about them. We have it in the US too. I gather these are just locals who use power and intimidation to control others. There are some obvious local-take-advantage situations, just like in America. The big difference might be in America they work within the law. In Mexico, they might work more above the law. I am still trying to suss it out. The local fuel baron, who is infamous on Navionics and in the international cruising community, known for excessive delivery costs, bad metering, and tainted fuel, does his community a disservice. He creates a bad vibe and by my observation, cruisers don’t spend much time (therefore, much money) in Bahia Tortuga. Mostly Americans and Canadians, they are well versed in scammers. They recognize it and just don’t like it. On the other hand, the Baja Ha-Ha Rally stops for a couple days. 100+ boats (an armada) descend on the bay and the town. I am sure the local fuel baron and economy gets a boost from this. Maybe even too much, clearing the goods from the shelves, preventing the locals whose economy is more day to day from getting some of the supplies they need. (Remember the toilet paper rushes of the pandemic?) I will say, the local super mercado was excellent. They had some very delicious granny smith apples. I love a good granny smith apple.

Observation #2: An aside on the Rally boat that sunk entering Bahia Tortuga. Navionics, though modern, crowd source-able, and a common go-to, has very incomplete and deceiving Mexican chart-age details. I have some older US Defense Mapping Agency paper charts I rescued from the Ballard Mill Marina dumpster years ago thinking one day they might be handy, and they clearly show the dangers and rocks off the Point that boat hit. Navionics does not. Just sayin’.

Qoute of The Day: “A Dana 24 is minimalistic. A Flicka 20 is just stupid.”- Joshua Wheeler, 2023. They have an allure to the uninitiated. That allure is where most of the traffic to this site comes from. But to paraphrase John Vigor from his book, 20 Small Boats That Will Take You Anywhere, (#20?) (Details are elusive with limited internet access) only a self-loathing, low-esteem, masochistic, and lonely fool would go cruising in one. (You won’t get the big boat girls and small boat girls might be few and far between in your peer group.)  If you are self-aware enough to realize this about yourself, you might be Flicka cruiser material. Most Flicka owners have a trophy boat. A strong, cute, well-built boat from a reputable manufacturer with a nice interior. They like the idea that it could theoretically go anywhere, but they mostly daysail and the moorage is affordable. (And their significant other says, “Go have a good time, honey. Let me know when you’re ready to buy a bigger boat.”) Alternatively, it is trailer-able. So, if you have the wherewithal to also buy the hefty trailer and the even heftier truck to pull the total 7000 pounds safely around, you can have a high style aquatic RV set-up for a summer holiday, or be a snowbird with. (Or you cash those three in and buy a Dana.) Yes, there are a few documented journey’s on Flickas to add to the romantic notion of them. And I don’t know most of those other folks, so I can’t say where they all fall in the spectrum. I’ve painted with a broad brush here, but I think after 10 years and 10000 miles with Sampaguita, I might have some qualifications regarding Flicka 20s. Then again, I’m just a fool.

Weird Universe Ether Experience: If the above wasn’t enough in two days, two blasts from the pasts contacted me on Thanksgiving. You might think “What’s so strange about that?” To know me is to realize that happens extremely rarely. (You have to think in years.) On top of that, I abandoned social media well over a year ago, so I have lost touch with the masses who use those common links to each other. Being manipulated by those moguls under the guise they were doing me a service was destroying me. But it also means people have to purposely come to me. That really sets people apart. I salute Terry P. and Banjo for their initiative. And I salute those folks who come to this blog and drop me a line too. If that’s you, and you read this, then you know who you are.