Saturday, March 01, 2003 1430
21.09/105.13 Chacala anchorage

Left San Blas anchorage as quickly as possible this morning as we were tossed all over the place last night and were all weary with the effort of holding on. Lost several of various kinds of unsecured glassware during dinner, but no real harm done. The ride here was slow and easy and we picked up a couple of fish along the way; a skipjack, which we tossed back, and a dorado, which we cleaned and kept. Caught one or the other of them on a salmon rod with northwest style green hoochie lure and a 4.0 and 5.0 double hook. Had to press the salmon rod into service because nobody was watching the new rods yesterday and a fish took all of the 30lb test line off one of them. Appropriate words were exchanged about watching the fish rods since that is the second time we have had a strike on an unattended rod, but you know how that goes.

I hope that it is still Carnaval week here in Chacala as our effort to take in some of the Carnaval festivities in Mazatlan flopped when all the girls decided they wanted to go home just as the music started. Ed and I had both noted that most of the attendees at that portion of the festival seemed to be cute little fifteen year old girls with semi bleached hair and jeans as tight as paint over their little derrieres so I suppose it’s just as well we left early before they started hanging around and bothering us. I don’t know if it was the little girls that tired our ladies so early or not.

This place, Chacala, is very picturesque and is the nicest anchorage we have visited to date. An old plantation, according to the charts, with a nice beach in front lined with palapas and Mexican families camping out and enjoying the Carnaval week holiday. Looks like your complete family beach resort and, with the mariachi music coming across the water to our anchorage a couple hundred meters off the beach, it’s pretty darn nice.

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Report from Captain Mary Ann
March 03, 2003 - At Sea

It was difficult to leave Chacala, a peaceful retreat after the madness of the Mazatlan Carnival which, by the way, is second only to Rio in attendance. In Chacala we found that we could be almost as totally laid back as we are on the sea. No more cheap young tramps for the men to have to beat off. Such a relief for them.

When we explored the town on foot we discovered that it had one street. There was not a lot of traffic . . . just chickens for most of the day. A couple of buses appeared after dark to pick up the beach vendors, open-air shop and restaurant workers. I guess they must live somewhere else. But the town does have a permanent population of some number. There were a few houses here and there along Main Street that looked to be occupied and someone has to be taking care of all those chickens. We came across an American woman and her husband on Main Street, sitting under a tree and painting two trash cans. They said they were tired of yellow and thought green might be nice for a change. They were locals, having lived in Chacala for three years. “Usually we live in front of the beach on our sailboat,” the woman said, “but this year the sailboat is in Tahiti so we thought that we would dry ourselves out a bit on land. We have lived in Mexico for eight years and this is our very favorite place. Stay a month and get to know the place. You’ll love it!” In the short time that we were there I had already made the acquaintance of quite a few chickens but I’m quite sure I knew what she was talking about. One has to live in a place to really know it.

Yesterday two shrimp boats came in to anchor not far from our boat. Isabel makes wonderful seviche and we were running out of seviche makings so we thought to make a shrimp purchase from the crew. We motored over in the small dinghy, the running of which John has yet to master, and crashed into the stern of the shrimper. “Hola, Amigos,” I shouted to the two men who appeared on the stern, “tiene usted camarones se vende?” “What,” one of the men shouted back? I repeated myself to which he replied, “I speak English.”

“And I speak Spanish.”
“Not so one would notice.”

After that put down I declined his kind offer to come aboard and tour the shrimp boat. Actually it wasn’t the insult that prevented me from touring. Rather it was the two big tires we had to climb up to get aboard. My climbing is worse than my Spanish, and I couldn’t risk being humiliated again by a fall in the drink, so I explained about my bad leg. Ed, who has monkey blood in his veins, leaped up the tires with little effort and made the purchase: two kilos of prawns and shrimp for twenty dollars. We had seviche last night with our cocktails. Isabel served it in the new hand painted seviche dishes that Sharon and I bought in Mazatlan.

We are headed now to Punta de Mita. Who knows what new adventures await us?

Until next time, Captain Mary Ann

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March 4, 2003 2330
20.41/105.17 Puerto Vallarta

We’re moored at Paradise Village Marina in Puerta Vallarta preparing to fly to Seattle tomorrow to get our tax information to the accountants. Last night at Punta Mita was quite lovely and calm with clear skies and lots of stars; also a boatload of Americans having a noisy party on a small sailboat nearby. We scooted over here to Puerta Vallarta around noon in about an hour and a half and entered the marina breakwater to find five feet of water. I was hoping that my recollection was correct that our sounder measures depth of the water under the keel and not depth under the transducer or total depth of the water. Heck of a time to wonder about that, but it did measure from the keel down apparently as we missed the bottom.

This marina is about US$80 per day, including taxes, electricity, and a pump out station, and has 100 amp single phase or three phase power as well as 50 amp power. I never did know what three phase power was, but now I think I know that it doesn’t work very well in my boat as Ed theorizes that it fried the relay coil in my primary 100 amp power inlet. Now I have to find a new relay and somebody to install it and it’s kind of a big deal. I have a guy coming tomorrow to work on the single sideband radio, ‘Sweet Thing’, the fourth such ‘expert’, but we’re getting closer now I think. The problem seems to be interference from other instruments in the boat and I’m told that this guy, an American, is pretty good. Hope so because maybe he can also fix the boat deck radio that just today I realized will transmit but will not receive. Isn’t this the nuts? One thing after another, and yet none of these things seem to make that much difference in the overall scheme of things. Here we are in Puerta Vallarta, just where we expected to be at about the time we expected to be here, the sun and stars are bright, the wx is balmy, and Mary Ann is happy. What else could a guy ask?

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Saturday, March 15, 2003, 2045
Chamela anchorage, 19.34/105.07

Shawn, Craig, and Shannon arrived at PV late Thursday. We spent yesterday fooling around in PV, including shopping at a gigantic Wal-Mart and Sam’s Club, and getting ready to leave, which we did this morning at 0815 at high slack tide with a generous eight feet of water over the bar leaving Nuevo Vallarta. The 98 mile run down here to this quiet and appealing little anchorage was uneventful once we passed Cabo Corriente and the breezes it nurtures. We’re now anchored in 40 feet of water, quite deep for a Mexican anchorage, with 150’ of chain out and securely hidden from the north winds behind some foothills. A cozy spot.

We immediately jumped in the 23 degree water for a little refreshment, but no sooner had we climbed out and shaken off the drops than I noticed water spraying in the engine room near the water pumps and found a broken PVC connection in the fresh water system. With no PVC repair pipe, valves, or glue on board we are back to water rationing. The water that sprayed around the engine room found its way into the port bilge to a depth of 8-10”, activating a bilge flood alarm, which was the good news as now I know that particular system is functioning, but I have been unable thus far to activate the emergency bilge pumping system so the water is being evacuated via a smaller ordinary bilge pump. I imagine that by morning either the bilge will be mostly dried out, or the batteries will be dead, or both. Assuming the former, we will head 32 miles south to Bahia de Navidad to chase down a plumber. Monday I’ll call Sovereign Yachts or Detroit Diesel and find out how to turn on the emergency bilge pump system. Life goes on.

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Sunday, Monday, March 16, 2003, 2300
Marina Puerto de Navidad 19.11 /104.40

It did start and we ran the 30 miles down to Puerto de Navidad, hoping to find some expertise in the form of a plumber. When we arrived off the harbor entrance I learned two things: (1) at Charlie’s Charts said “… do not EVER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES…” enter into the channel unless it is higher high tide, and (2) it was then lower low tide. I called the Harbormaster for advice. “No problem,” he says, “We have twelve feet at low tide.” I wanted to ask if he had seen Charlies’ Charts, but just about the time I decided to abandon valor, practice discretion, and wait for high tide a medium size sailboat cruised past so I cuddled up behind it and we sailed into the marina with a minimum depth of eight feet under the keel. With some difficulty in an increasing wind we managed to park ourselves in a generous slip and were damn happy to be in this beautiful marina, plugged into 50 amp power.

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Monday, March 18, 2003
Puerto de la Navidad

I was too clever to plug into the 100 amp power here without checking to make sure it wasn’t three phase, but the harbormaster assured me that it was single phase power so I plugged in, got power for fifteen minutes or so, and burned up my primary power inlet coil again. I was disappointed to say the least and later learned that, indeed, the marina had invented their own hybrid electrical system; sort of a two and a half phase setup. Just to make the day truly memorable the 17” flat screen high intensity plotter monitor that we installed last August decided to quit so we ended up this day with no water, no toilets, no power, and no navigational computer. It was a pretty depressing day and the afternoon wind blew even harder.

Found some kid plumbers who had a pocket full of PVC parts and some glue and got them to work on the water system. They turned what had been a seven inch section of PVC pipe with a valve in the middle into a “U” shaped section with no valve, but it worked so we have water and toilets. I bought all their extra PVC parts, glue and cleaner. Had to replace the primary power inlet relay myself as the electricians who showed up did not inspire confidence, but the fix was OK and we managed 50 amp power again. New rule is: ‘Do not plug in to anybody’s 100 amp power’.

Ordered a new bright screen monitor from California to be delivered to Bellevue so now all I need is somebody to bring it down here. The charts are so poor here that losing the primary plotter isn’t as bad as one might expect and, also, I have a backup computer and a book of not very useful paper charts as well. Also ordered another coil for the burned out relay just in case I get stupid and try 100 amps somewhere else. The afternoon wind is a howling 32 knots and the sailboats at anchor out back in the lagoon are blowing all over hell, but we are secure in this moorage and even have TV.

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Wednesday, March 19, 2003
Marina Puerto de la Navidad, 19.11/104.40

We all took the bus into Manzanillo in the morning. Manzanillo is not worth a visit unless you really like busy, noisy, dirty industrial cities. Caught a cab from Manzanillo out to Las Hadas resort to check it out. A beautiful, beautiful resort, like Navidad, but, also like Navidad with few guests. Apparently nobody is traveling these days, at least to Mexico. I wouldn’t want to be a resort owner just now. The marina at Las Hadas is all med tie, and is too small for larger yachts. Biggest boat in the marina was a 63’ something powerboat. Afternoon wind is abating.

ADDENDUM BY SHANNON

Lest Shawn’s skill as a tour guide be underestimated, I now include a more thorough description of our journey. You see, it was Shawn who sang out the praises of Manzanillo as a destination city, renowned for its shopping and quaint streets. Excited over the coming wonders, we finally left the boat at 10:30 AM. We took the water taxi to Barra de Navidad and then searched out a taxi. Because there were six of us, we needed 2 taxis. At 350 pesos each, we opted instead for a brief bus ride. Isabel chased down the bus and made it let us on. The concierge at the hotel told us Manzanillo was only 30 minutes away. Ninety minutes later we arrived at the bus station. As many of you know, bus stations are always located in the best parts of town. Despite the many interesting things to see at the bus station (dead chickens and small oil spill), we took a taxi to the one street shopping district we’d just spent 90 minutes to get to. Isabel purchased a pair of reading glasses and then we went for lunch. Lunch was tasty. Mother kept us busy throughout lunch snapping pictures of all of us standing in different spots around the restaurant.

After lunch we set out to search for a guitar for Dad. Isabel navigated with great skill. At the first music store we found a guitar, though not of the desired quality. Dad would perhaps have purchased it, but Isabel made us all leave the store. Evidently, she’d overheard one clerk cautioning the other to watch us carefully as we were likely thieves. Isabel was incensed so we left. We got directions on street to another music store. We searched for it for an hour. The search included Isabel stopping police and cabdrivers on the street. At one point she actually blocked a major intersection until she obtained more directions. Most memorably, she dragged a 15-year old boy from his normal work as a clerk in a shoe store and made him lead us to where he thought the furiously sought music store might be. Alas! He led us to the place we had earlier attempted to rob. I attempted to pay the lad for his troubles, but Isabel told me not to as he was leading us about due to her “great attraction.” At this point Shawn actually accused Isabel of extending the search in order to talk to more men (all of whom seem to be in her thrall). I have no opinion on veracity of this charge. We looked furiously for a cab, but were hampered by Dad wandering off and Mom having us pose for more pictures. At last we took two cabs back via the wonderful resort of Las Hadas (more picture taking opportunities.)

Perhaps the most memorable part of our journey was our meeting of a particularly sad dog. It had the skinniest body and the most pitiful expression ever seen. The dog haunted all of us all night and took up a great deal of our dinner conversation.

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Thursday, March 20, 2003
Marina Puerta de la Navidad
The week in review as seen by Captain Mary Ann

As I read through Captain John’s Log I question, “Are we really having fun?” It seems that the ship’s log is a long series of reports on non-functioning toilets, of the dishwasher that can’t be used and the useless range. There are the showers that can’t be showered in and the clothes washer that can’t wash clothes. Well, I am having fun. I see the silver lining under the clouds. Do the refrigerators work? Yes. Do the freezers work? Yes. (They are on the inverter.) Do we have ice for our Margaritas? Yes. Can Isabel still make Watermelon Smoothies? Yes. Do we really need to cook? No. Everyplace that we have broken down has wonderful restaurants. Has not our temporary toilet system, two water filled pails in the storage entrance, worked well? Sort of. Could John now get a job in any mechanic’s shop in the country? Probably. Would he make a good plumber’s assistant? Definitely?

The way I look at it, there is a lot more about going to sea than just rolling around on the water and staring at the plotter and the radar. The fun in owning a new boat is in learning the boat and thereby becoming its master. So I salute broken water pumps and burned out coils. I’m a participator, not a spectator. Quick someone! Hand me a wrench! I am the captain of my fate. So is John.

Our two daughters, who have boated with us on various sizes of boats for twenty years and our son in law, are not of the same mind frame. They have grown too sophisticated for us. We picked them up March l3 in Puerta Vallarta. That night we all enjoyed Isabel’s seviche and margaritas on the aft deck . . . . . all the more so because everyone loves Isabel. Our exploration of Puerta Vallarta the next day was not so successful. All three “children” have spent a lot of time there and found it disappointing. They remembered it not so crowded and grubby. Our moorage spot at Paradise Village was a little more appealing to them. We had dinner at the lovely garden restaurant in the Paradise Hotel Resort complex. When fireworks went off during our dinner I attempted to convince then that the display had been arranged especially for them. They snorted. I hate it when kids have to grow up. They lose the magic.

I must say that during this week of breakdowns and bad (windy) weather Shawn, Craig, and Shannon have been quite sporting. By the time we reached and anchored at Chamela we were out of water. Shannon and Shawn took this as an opportunity to show off their butts, which are quite cute. “Oh I hope no one sees us!“ they loudly squealed as they jumped naked into a bay filled with sailboats.

We got to Puerta de la Navidad the next day. A gorgeous resort! With big winds having come up and repairs to be made we had no choice but to lay up here for the next three days. There was absolutely nothing to do but play tennis twice a day, lay around the resort pool, read books, play Spanish Train, explore the little towns around via taxi and bus, and go out to dinner every night. So boring.

Still, all was not boring. Craig disappeared one night when everyone was sleeping. We learned later that he had checked into a suite at The Grand Bahia resort hotel to escape the mosquitoes and no see ums that had invaded his stateroom. Unfortunately the portholes were left open for the cool air. The air conditioner could not be run because we were not receiving sufficient power from the docks. Craig’s arms and legs were a mess. Life is tough but we do not let ourselves be defeated. When Craig returned the next morning a mosquito swatting derby was held in his stateroom. We now have air conditioning again.

Craig, Shannon, and Shawn leave this afternoon. I hate to see them go. They might be bored but they are certainly not boring. A thousand laughs a minute as they make fun of everything and everyone. I think the three of them should go into show business.

News of the start of the war came last night as we were having dinner at a beach restaurant. Isabel has both a daughter and a son in law serving in the U.S. Marine Corps. Today all of have been glued to the T.V. God bless America and those serving our country.

Until next time, Captain Mary Ann

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Sunday, March 23, 2003, 2255
Bahia Tenacatita anchorage 19.17/104.50

As you see, we have moved northerly to explore a reputedly beautiful anchorage that we had to pass by a few days ago because of our fresh water problem. Now that the kids are gone we decided to run back ten miles and check it out, and a wonderful anchorage it is, certainly the most protected anchorage we have found since Magdalena Bay north of Cabo. There are a varying ten to fifteen boats here enjoying the ambiance, nearly all sailboats, but a couple of motoryachts as well, including a 57’ boat from Royal Van YC and a sailboat from Tacoma.

Something unusual happened the other day; well at least part of it was unusual. We launched the 14’ tender to go out exploring around the bay, but found that the battery was dead. I tried to blame Mary Ann and Isabel for leaving something turned on, but it didn’t take them long to figure out that I was the only one to have been driving the boat. So I get out the battery charger and turn it on. It’s working. I come back an hour later to find the stern of the tender had floated loose and the charger was hanging four feet down in the water from the electrical cord. Nothing unusual about this story so far, right? Just another ‘lucky ship’ story. But the tender floated out because the bowline knot that I had used to tie the mooring line to the tender had come untied! Has anyone ever seen a bowline knot come untied? I haven’t. I have some theories about this mystery, but have left them unverbalized. I managed to find another 12 volt battery on the boat deck that provides power to the EPIRB and has its’ own charger so I swapped out the two batteries and finally we were away to explore the bay and do the ‘jungle cruise’.

About the Jungle Trip: Captain Mary Ann

Exploring requires planning. Foresight can be the best friend of those who would embark on a journey into the “Never Before Experienced”. We are learning this. We’ve decided that foresight will be included in every new adventure that we undertake even though foresight can become a bit boring by reducing the challenges that we face.

On the day of the jungle voyage we planned ahead and departed on the tide most favorable to a hopefully successful trip. Prior to our departure we discussed at length the wisdom of launching the larger of our shore boats for the making of the trip. The Rains guidebook had said, “Larger dinghies may need help in getting over the bar”. However, the motor on our large shore boat raises automatically, quickly, and much more easily than does the one on the small boat. Knowing that we were going to be hitting a lot of shallows made that a consideration. We decided to chance taking the larger boat when we observed that Pangas loaded with Mexican tourists were disappearing around a rock cliff where we knew the river entrance to be. Our thought was that if those Pangas could get across the bar with the drivers having to muscle around a big load of passengers, so could we.

Our first challenge was avoiding the rocks out beyond the entrance: “Lift the anchor, Captain.” Our second challenge was getting through the surf without dumping anyone: “Follow the smaller waves in and don’t get out until they have broken and are receding.” The last challenge was to avoid grounding as we crossed the bar, which, in some places, was only inches deep: “Watch the current. Hug the bank. Don’t battle the branches with your face.”

Once in the main channel of the river, it was Duck Soup! Very exotic, Duck Soup. I might add. We wound our way through a constantly narrowing river choked with Mangrove trees and their hanging tendrils. Above us the Mangroves arched a cathedral ceiling of green leafs, our forest church. It was so soft, so very quiet, except for an occasional performance from a choir of feathered friends whose sounds filled the air as they fled their shadowed branches and us, the intruders. It was lovely. So very lovely. And that, Amigos, is what we hoped this trip would be all about. I think that we have found it . . . the kind of deeply impressionable experience that makes the sea always a lure. Even when one has neglected and forgotten about old friend, foresight.

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March 28, 200,3 0830
Caleta de Campos anchorage 17.56/102.35

We left Tenacatita after several days lounging around the many palapas and lying in the sun with the many families who were camping out nearby. We eat fish in the restaurants now most of the time since that is what is available, and whatever variety we get in diet is prepared on the boat. Isabel has been doing most of the cooking so, of course, we are having a lot of Mexican cuisine even here on the boat. Fortunately I have always been a bean eater so I’m enjoying an occasional desayuno of huevos revueltos y frijoles. We never seem to run out of anything very important and I would swear that there are now more supplies in the utility room than when we started! Other than a few mysterious hiccups and coughs as one may expect to find on any boat, the vessel is performing well and may have, for the moment given up trying to drive me crazy. I certainly hope so.

We moved back south down to Manzanillo, only a dozen miles or so, and anchored outside the famous Las Hadas resort, hoping to spot Bo Derek (or her daughter by this time) lying on the beach, but the beach here, like all of the other beaches we have seen, was just about empty. The marina at Las Hadas is med tie only and not very roomy so I decided not to embarrass myself trying to capture one of the permanent bow line floats, a skill we have never mastered over uncountable attempts. “We look prettier at anchor anyway,” Mary Ann commented. Dinner at the restaurant was lovely, if pretty silent, and next day we taxied into Manzanillo for shopping and to seek a USB extension cord to facilitate another SSB device I have acquired that doesn’t quite want to work yet. If it ever does work, and I think it will when I figure out how to turn its controller on, I will be able to send and receive email via SSB. At this time I have our ship cell phone and satellite systems turned off as both are so much more expensive than our Seattle cell phones, but we do not have email capability without them.

Actually, the satellite data system has never worked anyway except when the technician is here to observe, sort of like a golf lesson, although I think that the difficulty has more to do with the fact that the office computer crashed than the phone system. Now, after being repaired, the office computer can’t raise Stratosnet, the ISP, via satellite and is non- functional again in many other respects. Speaking of computers, we’re getting along OK without the primary plotter monitor, using the backup laptop, which also gets a GPS signal so it knows where we are, or thinks it knows where we are. As we come into these various ports and harbors the device invariably shows us to be well up into the land or otherwise considerably at variance from where dead reckoning and observation might place us. Mexican charts are, to put it kindly, not very reliable.

The 100 mile run from Manzanillo to Caleta de Campos was an uneventful ride five to ten miles off the dry and barren coastal hills, which were devoid of other anchorage choices. We had intended to lower a boat and visit the town, but the lateness of the day and the size of the surf made us decide to forego exploring Caleta and catch an early night for our run to Ixtapa tomorrow. Another of the several things I have learned on this trip is that we in the northwest may be a little spoiled insofar as cruising is concerned. I am reasonably certain that in the northwest none of us would choose to anchor in the exposed bays available here, in hopes that the wind won’t shift in the night and cause us grief. It seems like there may be a reason why some people say that Pacific Northwest cruising is the best in the world, just a little colder than Mexico, the Caribbean, or the Ionic Isles. We’ll see as things progress.

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