Sailing to Mazatlan...Not

A little warmer, a little happier, a little earlier in the trip

  So here we are 8 hours into a 40 hour, 2 night passage. Things are not great, but the wind and seas (according to weather reports) should be diminishing and we'll be able to take turns on watch. So we sail on looking forward to better conditions. The sky darkens and the Captain looks like he is settled in for a long watch as I stretch out in the cockpit, wearing the shorts and tank I put on this morning, plus a jogging suit, my full-body motorcycle suit from my biker days, topped with my never been worn, super duper foul weather gear.  It is cold and every 45 seconds cold seawater washes over me. But at least I am down out of the wind unlike Larry who is spending every second steering Milagro to keep her on course, fighting the wind and the waves.
It was a long night and I was not much help as my sea sickness continued unabated.  My stomach was empty and I was somewhat concerned that I had been unable to keep down medication I take daily to regulate my heart. Well, nothing to be done about that.

It was a long, long night. At one point I marveled at the mental picture of this relatively heavy sailboat being tossed about like a toothpick. And yet, in the midst of unrelenting winds and seas, a miracle: I looked up between the dodger and the mainsail and, although it felt as though we were in the midst of a storm, the skies were clear and the stars absolutely spectacular. I have sailed at night before but never so far from land and ambient light. I could make out many of my beloved constellations, their major stars shining brilliantly in the coal black sky. And amid the those stars millions of other, less bright stars. I saw Orion, crystal clear, wearing a milky way-like robe. Magnificent! Obviously, my words cannot do justice. I wanted to take pictures but two things, the rocking of the boat and an unwillingness to drench my camera, prevented that. Ahh, but the pictures in my mind are there forever and easily made the trip worthwhile.
We sailed on through the night and finally dawn arrived. By then I was, although somewhat bruised and battered, feeling a bit better; however, conditions had not improved, may have even gotten worse. The Captain made the decision to turn around. I did not want him to make that decision based on my condition but he was convinced (and later proven correct) that conditions were not going to improve. He kindly made the decision his so I would not feel bad.
 So, amid the waves and the wind, we tacked, not an easy job in light conditions, and at one point, with Larry working the sails and me at the helm, a halyard pulled loose from the winch. By the time Larry retrieved it we were both concerned it may have gotten caught in the engine prop which was running barely above idle. We finally turned Milagro and began retracing, or trying to retrace our trail.  We were relieved to find the engine running well.
At no time did it feel as though we were in any danger. We were heeled at a pretty steep angle and the rocking was endless but not scary. Still, the sea was relentless and had worn us down; this was supposed to be a fun trip.
I thought, erroneously, that turning around would ease our discomfort, but our chosen heading caused us to be attempting, and of course failing, to sail directly into the wind. The course we were forced to take would put us going through the Cerralvo Channel rather than taking us north of the island. We had heard that this area, because of the funneling of wind between the mountains, could be challenging but the only other choice was to duck into Bahia de Los Muertos, and would put us arriving well after dark in an unknown port. We chose the Cerralvo Channel.

January 29, 2012