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. 

Isla Isabel - first landfall

  The island came into sight just as the sun was rising after the third night.  Even from very far away one could tell that this was a rugged - very rugged - piece of landscape.  There were steep mountains rising straight out of the water, and while I am not a good judge of heights these mountains were really up there.  In the early morning light it was a spooky looking place, with a mist that shrouded the mountain and conveyed a great mystery about what we were getting into.  According to the cruising guide one should keep good distance off the shore due to numerous submerged rocks and pinnacles that would barely show above the surface of the water.  There were also the hazards of fishing nets and long lines that are used by the fishermen in the waters surrounding the island for many miles out.  The nets and lines are frequent propeller, keel, stabilizer, and rudder foulers.   Of course the abundance of this type of gear illustrates the excellent fishing found around the island. Actually Isabel is made up of several islands in close proximity with one another, but the main island is the only one that could be landed on or explored.  We had been advised that due to the relatively poor and rocky bottom, and the fact that there is little protection from steep winds, that anchoring off Isabel is best suited in calm to light conditions.   The island has a bad reputation for swallowing anchors, particularly in the southern bay due to the numerous reefs and underwater rock formations.  It had been recommended that due to the possibility of sticking the anchor that I should consider the use of a trip line and buoy on the anchor.  I had all that I needed to set up such a system but I had never used one before.  It seemed simple enough, just one more thing that needed to be coordinated when dropping the anchor.  If the anchor does become stuck, or bound, the trip line can be useful in getting the anchor up.

We rounded the island, in as close as I felt comfortable being.  We could see a small bay to the south of the island where there was obviously the fishing village.  The bay was lined by the most incredibly rugged looking rocks and formations and was actually quite scary looking, but there appeared to be a protected area at the head of the bay and we could see pangas on the beach; we figured that this was the only area  where a dingy landing would be possible.  This bay was the area that was famous for swallowing anchors, so we chose to anchor at the alternate location to the east of the island

The alternate anchorage was actually just behind one of the other islands that had a name, but was no more than a big pinnacle rock that towered up out the water 150 to 200 feet.  It did have a tendency to block the wind from the northern direction but that was about it.  I did not like this location at all, but it was better than  the other one.  So we deployed our anchor, our trip line, and our anchor buoy, and set back to see if the anchor would hold.  When the anchor first went down I could feel in the chain that the anchor was scraping across rocks, but at some point it must have set because the wind had come up to about 20 knots.

We ate some breakfast, again allowing time to test the sturdiness of the anchor, and when we were satisfied that Milagro would be there when we came back, we launched the dingy and headed for shore.

 

No vegetarians here!

At one time in her life, when Sharon and her then husband Rob were sailing on their boat in the Pacific, they virtually lived off what they could catch, trap, or harvest.  So soon after we cleared out of La Paz bay, Sharon dug out the fishing equipment and commenced to fish.  We had bought different types of lures and attachments and she was looking forward to catching something.  We have three rod holders on the boat, perfect for trolling for fish.  At first Sharon would hold the rod and feel for strikes, but finally she gave that up, put the rods in holders and tied them down securely.  Once in a while she would check on them, but mostly we just forgot about it, until………suddenly the rod doubled down, and started to screech.  Sharon grabbed it up and began the fight.  It was definitely a well caught fish, and after about 15 minutes of struggling the fish surrendered, and Sharon brought it on board.  It was a Trigger Fish and wasn’t particularly large, maybe a pound and one half, but would be a meal for two.  Sharon took a bucket and the fish and went up to the deck chairs on the foredeck and tried to remember how to go about preparing the fish for food.  She had forgotten a lot of what she had known before, and it took some time before she emerged with a small plate of neatly prepared fish parts.  When we were in Loreo John and Niki had introduced Sharon to ceviche, this may be spelled wrong, I am not sure, but it is like Sushi in that it is raw fish prepared with lemon and citrus juices.  Sharon loved what she ate in Loreto, and wanted to prepare our little trigger fish to be c  Supposedly the marinating of fish in lime, lemon, or other types of juices will actually “cook” the fish.  She made it and I ate it.  Luckily for me, there was a lot of other stuff in there, and I could not really tell what parts of it was raw fish.  It was remarkably good.  I was proud of myself for not throwing up, that would have just been rude.

eviche, and I promised to give it a try.