Puerto Vallarta

Bright and early the next morning we were in the dingy and on our way to town.  We laughed because Sharon had heard how late the party had gone on, and we both expected to find bodies still lying in the street after such a celebration. There were signs that people had had a good time: there were cups and napkins in the gutters, all the street vendor had tarps over their stands,and few old men were leaning against the buildings with their eyes closed, obviously sound asleep. But all the merchants were out with their brooms and everyone, including a small band of city workers, was cleaning up the mess.  It wouldn’t be long till the celebration would begin again. 

As we strolled through the town Sharon indicated all the points of interest that she had discovered yesterday, and guided us toward a restaurant that had caught her attention.  The doors to the restaurant were these heavy carved wooden doors that are so impressive and fairly common, particularly on historical buildings. As we stepped inside the whole scene turned white as the floor and the walls were all covered in bright white tiles, with a white ceiling, all brightly lit.  There was a bar that was accented with wood trim and the entire place just reeked of cleanliness and purity.  It made me uncomfortable, and I felt...inadequate.  I’m not sure if that was what they were going for, but it was a most unusual sensation.  In the front of the big room was a lending library, a rare thing to find in a restaurant, with a sign saying, “Here, take one of these books to read, bring it back when you finish, if you can.”  The back side of the front big room opened onto a patio with outdoor dining and we migrated in that direction.  The patio was full of families having breakfast, and the sounds of little girls giggling made for a delightful backdrop.  We found a table located under a self portrait of Frida Kahl, and Sharon insisted on sitting there.  It turns out that Sharon is a huge fan of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, and knows all about their art, their lives, scandals and achievements; she continued to educate me all through breakfast.  I had never heard of them, but that’s just uncultured me.  Sharon put her shawl over her head, imitating the portrait of Frida, and had me take her picture along side the portrait.   It seems that the talented pair lived many years ago in Puerto Vallarta, and there is a huge mural done by Diego that Sharon is desperate to see.  Its OK with me, put it on the list.

After a most satisfying, and tasty breakfast, we paid the bill with a ridiculously small number of pesos and headed out for the bus stop.  We had to walk through and up the main street of the to a big highway where we could catch a bus.  I couldn’t believe it, there was a Raymarine Store, right here in La Cruz.  I didn’t think there was a single Raymarine dealer in all of Mexico, but here one was, in this little town.   It was only a small  store, but I will make a point of visiting here before I leave.  This is very good information to have.  A great deal of the electronics on Milagro are Raymarine Brand, and I was excited to see their representation in Mexico.

We reached the highway and it was obvious where we should go to wait for the bus.  There were a couple of other people there also, and they were waiting just outside a small concrete canopy.   I found a place to stand out of the sun, under the canopy, right beside a trash can that had a long dead chicken in it, and the smell of death and decay almost claimed me.  Now I understood why all the other people were standing upwind of the bus stop, and I joined them there in the sun, almost immediately. 

We didn’t wait long at all for the bus to come. It was a brightly colored, old school bus looking thing, that rattled to a smoky stop right in front of us.  The driver must have known about the chicken, too!   We all climbed on board and I clumsily held out a hand full of change to pay for the trip. The driver said in perfect English, “six pesos each please”.  Really?  6 pesos a piece.  That is less than $.50 and I knew the trip was going to be about 25 miles around the bay.  Dang, 6 pesos..I love Mexico!

Even the main roads in Mexico have pot holes that could swallow a Volkswagen, and we rattled along, bouncing and pitching, and jamming to a stop without any warning at all to pick up additional passengers.  This is a really good way to explore a new place, taking a bus. You get to meet, and smell the people, and watch the changing landscape skate by like a slide show on a computer screen.  It is really fun!  Sometimes a guy will stand up with a guitar and start to sing at the top of his lungs, and many of the other passengers would join in.  It was great.  I sang right along with them, even though I had no idea what the song was.  I really smiled a lot on that trip.

We could tell when we have reached the end of the bus route 'cause the bus was empty, except for us. The driver turned around and looked at you with a blank stare and shrugged his shoulder.  We were fortunate enough to be somewhere in downtown Puerto Vallarta. We stepped off the bus and were immediately greeted by a representative of the Puerto Vallarta Tourist Bureau.  What a lucky break. He had a hand full of brochures, this huge smile, and talked very fast in a delightful form of Spanglish.  The brochures were shiny and colorful and I was immediately attracted to them.  Sharon was tugging on my sleeve, trying to save me, but I was intrigued by what the guy was selling.   He was inviting us to participate in all day bus tours of the city and the surrounding areas, and there was a choice of various things that the tours would cover.  You could choose from artsy tours, or scenic tours,  or adventure tours, and any number of other themes.  Now this got Sharon’s attention because she wanted to visit this mural painted by Diego Rivera - somewhere near a big famous church - and she asked if any of the tours went there.  And sure enough, several of them did.  Now we had her attention. We let the guy go through his entire presentation and he said we could have any tour we wanted for $30 each for the entire day.  I thought and thought, then told him we would have to think about it some more and began to walk away.  Suddenly he called out, what about $15 each:  I reached for my wallet, and Sharon began to review the list.

A day in the life of...

I spy....a Milagro ancestor

The next day was Sunday and Sharon wanted to explore the town while I needed to take a shot at fixing the generator.  We needed to make some water and the generator kept shutting down. Sharon had a shopping list of places she needed to locate in the town: the laundromat (my supply of drawers was getting pretty low), the grocery store, scope out the restaurants, and identify a hardware store just in case I needed one.  Besides, she just liked to walk and explore.  I would drop her off at the dingy dock, and I would return to Milagro to shake down ole Jenny.

As we were coming into the dingy dock through the marina, I spotted a boat that looked a lot like the shape of Milagro.  Milagro is a 43 foot Spindrift.  The hull of the Spindrift has been used in several different boats, under different names.  I was aware of some of the history of the design and evolution of the design of my boat.  All of these different boats are Perry designed boats and built in several different boat yards in Taiwan.  Regardless of how many different names these boat have had, to see a boat with this design hull is very rare, and I wanted to explore it. 

There was a guy in the cockpit and I motored over to speak to him.  It turns out that this was one of the earlier models of my boat. I could see the differences; the this boat had more teak trim and structure on the deck, and the appointments were different, but the shape, structure and hull of the boat were exactly the same.  It was fascinating to talk about.  His boat was built under the name of Formosa, and was called a Formosa 44.   His boat had been somewhat trashed in a previous life and he was in the process of rebuilding it. 

But then the most improbable thing I could imagine, happened.  He told me that the original wooden boat, from which the fiberglass molds were made in China - for all the boats that had been built with this hull, including mine - was right here in this marina!  I could not believe that such a wild coincidence could possibly be, but he pointed to the berth were the boat was located, and I could see it.

I parked the dingy and walked over to the old boat, and I could immediately see the shape of the hull, and the superstructure were exactly the same as Milagro’s.  But this boat had the wooden mast down and strapped across the crutch, the paint was chipping and fading, and the boat was falling into disrepair; being wooden, would not be long for this world.  But for a few moments I made a connection with Milagro’s great-great-great grandfather, and I felt very reminiscent. Luckily, Sharon pulled me away in just the nick of time, because my mind was drifting toward adoption. 

Sharon had taken the mobile VHF radio, and when she finished her walk some 4 hours later, she called me to pick her up in the dingy, which I did.  All the way back to the boat she told me about La Cruz, and all the neat things that she had seen.  She found out where we could catch a bus to go into Puerto Vallarta, she found a nice laundromat (closed on Mondays) and there were several little hardware stores around.  The only grocery stores were more like convenience stores, but she assured me that we didn’t really need anything that we couldn’t get in a convenience store, and not to worry about it.  She said that the town had several rustic little Mexican restaurants, and identified a couple that she would like to try out.  She was very excited and described the town as being out of a little Mexican storybook.

I had had some modicum of success on getting the generator to run, after many, many tries, and had made a supply of water.  Actually the raw water was so full of algae that the filters kept clogging up, so I didn’t get the tank full but made enough to hold us for several days. 

We made an early day of it, and decided that tomorrow we would have breakfast out, and catch a bus, and explore Puerto Vallarta.   The movie tonight will be “Despicable Me”, and we will have popcorn and beer.  Yahoo!

LaCruz or not La Cruz

I had read a great deal about this marina, called Marina Riviera Nayarit. It was a very large (340 slips), modern and upscale marina, part of a larger condo-house-hotel resort development.But it also had a very good anchorage just outside the entrance to the marina, a dingy dock inside the marina, fuel docks, a restaurant, boat parts store and a ship yard.  Anything that a sailor might ultimately need could be found here and it was just adjacent to the little town of La Cruz.

Knowing all this, you can imagine my surprise when I guided the dingy around the end of the seawall and came into the marina. You couldn’t tell  until you got inside but it was tiny and full of fishing pangas and fish cleaning stations.  OMG, I am in the wrong place.  This ain’t La Cruz, and this ain’t Marina Riviera Nayarit!

I immediately turned the dingy around, and headed back to the boat to get the cruising guide, and figure out what was going on. 

It didn’t take but a minute to see that I had missed it all together.  Obviously when I came around Mita this morning, I was so tired that at the sight of any anchorage, I just assumed I was there.  I looked at the GPS, and sure enough, the way points for the anchorage I had intended to make was something like two hours away.  I was so embarrassed.

So we pulled the hook, and towed the dingy deeper into Banderas Bay to the real town of La Cruz, and Marina Riviera Nayarit (20 deg – 44.850N by 105 deg – 22.252W). This was a much better anchorage.  There was a significant point of land around the marina that protected the anchorage from the surge that is so prominent from the Pacific Ocean.  We jumped into the dingy and went into the marina, and this time I got it right.  What a beautiful marina.  It was everything that I had read about.  We found the Port Captains office for check in, and it was already closed, in fact it was not open at all today as this was Saturday, and nobody had told me, and we would have to wait until Monday to check in.

We walked around the Marina and it was beautiful.  There was a small tienda, the boat parts store (which had a sign in the window that it was going out of business), a huge fish market consisting of many buildings that in the morning hours would have all its racks full of fish for sale, and people from all over the place coming here to buy fresh fish, as well as couple of high end restaurants.

There was a little dirt road branching off the back of the marina that led up into the little Mexican town of La Cruz.  Almost the first thing we came to when we walked up into the town was this well landscaped and tended city park with a small amphitheater, families walking with strollers, pets on leases,all in the lovely, shaded park.  Children were all around, and everyone seemed to be totally absorbed by the gorgeous weather. 

But something else was happening too. There were signs around the cobblestone streets and as usual, to my dismay, they were written in Spanish so I couldn’t tell exactly what they said, But I gathered that this was the 60th anniversary of the town and the people were assembling for a parade, music in the park, and street vendors with amazing smelling carne arsada, tacos, hot dogs and all sorts of frozen fruit delights.

Sharon and I decided to stroll on and see what this was all about. We found a food vendor with tables and chairs next to the stree, and we decided to try out their tacos.  They weren’t allowed to sell beer, so we ordered Jamaica pronounced Himica) a tea made from hibiscus flowers. About that time the parade began, almost right where we were sitting.  This was perfect!

Like most celebrations in Mexico there is a religious theme, or at least a religious element, to all public displays: the Catholic Church is very prevalent here.  They had little tiny girls dressed in really fancy little dresses sitting on the hoods of elaborately decorated pickup trucks, floats with kids waving, and prancing groups that looked like cheerleaders, only there were too many of them to be cheerleaders. There were ladies who looked like they belonged to a yoga class and were all dressed up in their yoga outfits, going down the street doing stretches.  The Mexicans have this misconception that loud music is the same thing as good music, and I’ve never had the heart to tell them otherwise. Truck after truck came by loaded with these huge speakers, all of them blasting popular Mexican music which I have come to enjoy.  Popular Mexican bands would consist of a tuba, a base guitar, a tiny little classical guitar, a couple of trumpets, an accordion or two, and someone wailing the lyrics.  It is a beautiful thing, and you can’t help but enjoy it when it comes your way.

The parade was fairly short, but allowed us time to eat our tacos and Jamaica while being thoroughly entertained.   The parade circled around the park, and seemed to stop at the amphitheater where the next round of celebration was due to begin. 

Sharon and I finished our dinner, and decided to go back to the boat.  We were still pretty tired and looked forward to calling it an early evening.  On the way back to the dinghy we met a very formal looking lady on the malecon, walking two very impressive full size poodles, all trimmed up and looking fancy.  Sharon, loving animals, walked up to the lady and for the next twenty minutes talked about dogs.  The lady seemed to have a very proper Spanish accent, with almost a French overtone.  It was delightful to listen to them talk, Sharon with her British like, South African accent, and this lady with this most unusual formal air.   I asked her about the celebration they were having in La Cruz, and sure enough, it was a 60^th anniversary of the town, and she advised us with a little chuckle in her voice, to get prepared, as

it would be going on for the next 6 days, and would go almost all night long, every night.

I told you, Mexicans are the most celebrating people I have ever met.  Give them a reason, even a teeny little reason, and they will have a street festival.  It is really a delightful culture, and I continue to enjoy every minute of it.

Moving southward to La Cruz

Banderas Bay?

It was April 27 and our trip to La Cruz would be a night passage.  The trip was approximately 80 miles, and we had left Isabel in late afternoon.  If all went well, we would arrive in La Cruz in the early morning.

It was cold again and the routine of layering up as the night went on continued.  The night watches were more difficult for Sharon and me because of the very active day we had had.  Normally there is time during a cruising day to nap, or even sleep soundly for at least a little time, but not today and we were both feeling it.  But we, like the crusty sailors we had become, bucked up and did our duty, knowing that the morning, Banderas Bay, and sleep would follow.  We had a light meal, and set into our watch schedule. 

Bahia de Banderas, or Banderas Bay, (northern entrance 20 deg – 45.465N by 105 deg – 34.858W) is one of the largest natural, deepwater bays in Mexico.  The bay lies between the two states of Jalisco and Nayarit, and is also situated between two different time zones which can result in some confusion over the local time depending on which end of the bay you are in.

The northern point of the bay is formed by the rugged and beautiful Punta de Mita.  This point is home to the Four Seasons Resort and golf course, and is also known by surfers as a popular break.The southern point of the bay is formed by the notorious Cabo Carrientes (Cape of Currents).  As is typical with most prominent capes this southern promontory can cause accelerated winds, and combined with currents the cape is known for, can make for an uncomfortable trip.  On the morning nets a great deal of time is spent talking about the conditions at Cabo Carrientes, and in many cases the weather for the entire bay is attributed to those conditions.

Twenty three nautical miles separate the two points from north to south, with the bay nearly twenty miles deep for west to east.  An amazing assortment of wildlife fills this large bay from whales and sea turtles, to manta rays and dorado fish.  One of the favorite past times in the bay during the winter months is whale watching and people come from all over the world to participate.  Humpback whales and their calves deliver daily shows throughout the bay, breaching, frolicking and singing. 

The bay has several cities located along its shoreline, each with their own charm and attraction.  There is Punta Mita, La Cruz, Bucerias, Nueva Vallarta, and the largest,Puerta Vallarta, Los Arco, and several other villages too numerous to mention. 

Due to the presence of a rather nice marina that might be affordable if we needed it, and based on the advice of several of our advisors, we chose to go to La Cruz originally; we could visit other places as we decided.

I have a tendency to like to sail pretty far off shore.  I have found that particularly in Mexico cruising close to shore, although it is more scenic, can offer surprises to the complacent mariner.  It seems that islands, rock pinnacles, and other scary stuff can just pop out of the water with no advance notice and grab you, especially at night.  I try to be as unaware as possible when I am sailing, part of the allure of sailing for me, so it is better for me to be offshore in deep, unobstructed water.  

The entrance to Banderas Bay from the north is a bit tricky because of some submerged rock formations, and small island outcroppings, so I planned my navigation carefully, and came in pretty close to Punta de Mita.  The wind was almost non-existent, and the visibility was pretty good, with some fog, haze and mist but not too bad. I was tired after a fairly uneventful, but long night of sailing, and it was so refreshing to round the cape, and see the lovely anchorage, with sea walls surrounding the marina, and pangas moored all over the place and on the beach.  What a lovely spot.  There were several other sailboats and motor yachts anchored, and I just pulled up, found a good place and dropped the hook. 

I think Sharon was as tired as I was so we ate a little breakfast then decided to nap a while before going ashore.  I slept for about 3 hours, soundly, deathlike, and deep, and when I finally did wake up, I felt like I had the dingy on my shoulders.  Sharon was already up, and was writing on her computer.  We decided to go exploring, and we needed to check in with the Port Captain, so we deployed the dingy and lit out for the marina.

Parting is such....

I still had a few tools to clean up and put away, and Sharon prepared a late lunch/early dinner thing, and we were both ready to get under way.  With Sharon at the helm and me at the windless we began to pull in the anchor chain.  My heart was racing considering the possibility that the anchor would be stuck, sure what would I possibly do next.  A smile crept across my face when the anchor broke loose from the bottom; I reeled it in and secured it into position.  At my request Sharon move us forward and away from the big rock pinnacle that we had been anchored behind, and I began to pull in the trip line and the anchor buoy.  I was paying so much attention to the anchor coming up that I had ignored the anchor buoy, and when I looked around for it it was gone, or at least I couldn’t find it.  I had hold of the trip line that led to the buoy, but when I pulled on it, it led down underneath the boat and was stuck.

I asked Sharon to stop the boat, put the transmission in neutral, and help me find the buoy.  We went all the way around the boat, leaning over as far as we could, looking for the danged thing.  I pulled again on the trip line; yes, it was firmly stuck under the boat.  It became quite clear that I was going to have to go under the boat to release this dumb rubber ball.  It was late in the afternoon by now, and I should  have been looking for my fleece because it was getting cold, and here I was getting ready to go for a swim: I had to go under the stupid boat.  The real fear that I had was that the ball had drifted back far enough that both the ball and the trip line may have gotten into the prop.  I did not think the line was long enough for that, but it definitely on my mind.  That would have been a real problem, one that may have been difficult to fix.   The boat was bouncing in about a three foot sea which complicated the sitution and made going under the boat a little touchy.  

I got out my snorkeling gear, put on my fins and mask, and dipped a toe into the water.  I did not want to do this, and every fiber of my body was having a say about it.  But with great resolve I  jumped in and looked around.  The cold went straight to my bones.  I was on the port side of the boat and I could see where the line went under the keel, so the ball must be on the other side of the boat.  I could see the line was tangled around the transducer for the sonar which was good. I could reach that without having to go so far underneath the boat, and release it with no problem.  I swam to the other side of the boat and there was the ball. I pulled it loose and headed for the ladder.  The cold was making me numb.  I came up the ladder in a single step, and went straight for the boat hook.  I needed to get that thing out of the water before it fouled again. 

I turned the helm over to Sharon and went below for my fleece.  We were underway, on our way to La Cruz, Puerto Vallarta, and Banderas Bay.  Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Back in time...beautiful Isabel

We had to go about a quarter of the way back around the island to get to the southern bay, and with the wind coming up, the trip in the dingy was bucking and wet.  The island had a very primal feel, hostile and threatening.  I had the feeling of being in Jurassic Park and I expected a dinosaur to stick his head around the rocks at any moment.  The shore line was extremely rugged and foreboding and it felt much better when we made our turn into the southern bay, entering the protection of all the rock formations and pinnacles that lined the entrance to the landing spot.  The entrance to the beach was long and I could see pangas lined up. At first, I was not able to see where a landing would be possible without potential damage to the hull of the dingy, but in just last few minutes the beach came into vie, and I maneuvered toward a likely spot.  The beach was not at all pretty.  The sand and boulder beach was black and did not look inviting at all.  But I picked a spot, made a commitment to it, and headed in.  There was little swell and the landing went very well.  As we were pulling the dingy up on the beach a young fisherman came out of the camp, and lent us a hand in securing the dingy.  He took one of the shore ties intended for a panga and tied up our dingy for us.  He was a delightful young man, out here in the middle of nowhere, and although he spoke no English we talked with our hands, and with the few words we had in common, and he told us places that we should visit and things to see.  It was a delightful interchange and totally unexpected.

There were signs talking about the island being a national park, and all, but we could only make out parts of them. There was a path of sorts that headed out through the stubby, rugged little trees that seemed to cover the island.  All along the path through the trees, there were nests six to eight feet off the ground with nesting birds on the nests, and our presence did not disturb them at all.  I had a few make a snapping noise with their beaks, which I am sure was a warning of some kind, to keep my distance, but no inclination to fly away or leave their nests. The birds were large, with huge wing spans.     I am assuming these birds were boobies.  They were not sea gulls, pelicans, or frigates; I know what they look like so I assume these are boobies.  They were not blue footed boobies (those seem to be the famous ones) but boobies they were, I am sure.  As we moved along the path we became aware of a large number of baby birds, dead, hanging in the trees, or laying on the ground.  It was depressing to see this.  They appeared to be freshly dead, not been dead for long in other words, you can tell.  But there were also large number of baby birds in the nests, and they were all complaining about our presence.

We wandered on up the hill to an old abandoned research facility.  It was a concrete structure, a nice looking facility, obviously abandoned several years ago. Now the grounds were covered by iguanas... every where you looked.  There were several different types, or maybe the different sexes look different, I don’t know that much about iguanas.  Some were very large, upwards of six feet in length.  Although they didn’t appear to be threatening to us, I still kept my distance.  These were formidable animals, and I quickly developed a respect for their space and stayed way out of it.  This island is also a home to an abundant population of the Mexican Milksnake, which had a tendency to keep me out of the tall grasses.

I had already walked far enough to feel my ankle beginning to swell, so I left Sharon at the research facility to return to the boat.  I also needed to replace the switch on the bilge pump before we set sail again.

The repairs to the bilge pump went well, and at about mid afternoon I received a call from Sharon with our hand held VHF radio asking me to fetch her; it’s sort of a British sounding term, very proper.  I took the dingy and retraced my course back to the beach and picked Sharon up.  She was most excited about her hike.  She had been everywhere, all the ridge lines, the volcano crater, which she said was a festering green slime pool, and spotted about a billion birds, including the Blue-Footed Boobie. She showed me all her pictures. They were splendid. Well done!   Mission Accomplished!  Let’s move on!

We had never intended to spend a night here, the question about the anchor holding capacity of the bottom would make me uneasy, and I would prefer to be underway.  We had spent the majority of a day here.  That was enough.