Baja California in a little boat…

Portal swings briskly from side to side, as we watch the flock of birds from the beach. There is a stiff breeze and we are grateful for this reasonably protected anchorage here in Bahia Asuncion.

We arrived yesterday, after another early morning start from Turtle Bay. Since  leaving Ensenada, our first Mexican port, we have had great passages to various small bays and islands. Our first stop to Isla St Martin was somewhat disappointing -  we had hoped to explore an enclosed lagoon on the small desolate island, but I awoke with a migraine and spent the day vomiting, as Charlie and the crew moved us to the mainland, 10miles away. We read about a small village there, with a few resources, and the local “Carlos” who would answer our radio call with information. As it turned out, anchorage was taken in 5ft at low tide (barely enough for our 4ft keel) and well offshore so that rowing to land was out of the question. Mr Carlos never answered our curious calls, and our active imaginations have since surmised that the small town must have been decimated by the Cartel, nothing left but torn Tecate signs.

We fled that wild and lonely place, around 4am, with our sights set on Isla Cedros. Anticipating two nights at sea, we were thrilled when we averaged over 5.5 knots, making anchorage by the following evening. Along our way, we were intercepted by a most humbling sight – Three Californian grey whales chose to swim with us for over two hours. We turned our engine on immediately and tried to alter course, but they insisted on accompanying us, sometimes getting so close their blow-water splashed in our faces. Rising up on our stern, then diving below our keel, it was a most terrifying and beautiful experience! They never so much as nicked our vessel though, so I suppose they were well aware, and had no intent of harming us.

Arriving in Cedros, we rowed ashore in our trusty dinghy “Luckey” and were again surprised -  a quaint and vibrant town of 2500 inhabitants surrounded us, the people a friendly and relaxed bunch. Colourful buildings with descriptive drawings painted directly to the facade, small side streets of cobbled stones, and cute business’ like the Papeleria selling paper supplies. Being Easter, there was a local parade through the town, complete with Jesus on a cross and his disciples, being banished by the Romans  as the story was read aloud through a truck’s sound-system. We made good use of the local internet cafe and taqueria, making friends with the jovial by-passers. We were all a little sad to leave the following morning, grateful for the unique small-town experience, void of tourism.

At 2am we set off for our next stop – Turtle Bay. Another pleasant and swift sail, saw us anchoring in the well protected bay around 1pm. Touched by the tourism of the annual “Baha-ha-ha” cruisers race, it was never-the-less an enjoyable resting point with delicious coffee and plenty of fresh food and water provisions. We spent the afternoon relaxing on the beach under palm-tree umbrellas, grateful for some rest after such an early start.

The next morning was again a pre-dawn rise though, as we needed to make Bahia Asuncion before dark. We again averaged over 5knots, with reefs in the main and jib, flying downwind in sharp heavy seas. Occasionally we would spot another sailboat beating their way north, and all agreed they were crazy! Thankfully an hour or so of daylight remained after entering the bay, since we dropped anchor 4 times before finding a good hold. Eventually we had success by removing our CQR and installing our Danforth anchor instead. A lighter, weaker anchor, but more appropriate for the loose sand we found here. My muscles were pulsing with exhaustion, after hauling 40ft of chain in and out, in and out, though I still don’t regret removing the poorly placed windlass Portal originally came with.

Now we are here, giving ourselves a full day of rest, drinking coffee and chowing down fish tacos. This is a large bay with a significant village, and so far we have had much help from the local people, particularly in refilling our propane. We will restock on food and water here, then make the run to “Mag Bay”, 200nm from here. Provisions don’t sound promising there, but being a well-protected anchorage, it will be a good rest stop before another 150nm downhill run to Cabo San Lucas. We are definitely taking longer than expected along this western coast, but have decided it is well-worth the delay – such nice communities and the glimpse into rural Mexican life is not to be missed.

Letter Writing in Ensenada

It’s a tough life… internet on the boat!

A lazy sail

Our new drifter – what fun to use!

Whales!

Holding our breath!

At least twice as long as our boat, and easily one boat length wide…

Terrifying beauty

Pixel lazing in her favourite spot – on top of the dodger cover.

Lydia’s eternal struggle for clean hair – here she tries the ‘hang and dunk’ method…

Barbara does some dishes

Captain Charlie on the electronics

Cedros village grocery

Easter on Isla Cedros

Our new friend Armando helps us get propane in Bahia Asuncion

A Mexican fisherman’s home

Bahia Asuncion

 

 

 

 

 

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Adios America!

Hello from Mexico!

We left Marina Del Rey on a breezy afternoon and had great conditions. Cruising along with full sails up and pushing 7knots, we were a happy crew! By nightfall the wind had all but died though, and after an hour of bashing sails, we turned on the engine. The block on our main sheet traveller had broken under the stress – our first casualty of the trip. She’s an old boat, and things are bound to break – but so soon into the voyage was a little disconcerting! Still, we lashed down the traveller and pushed on for Catalina, thankful that the fracture happened in light airs. Our ‘iron jib’ reliably propelled us forward, all be it at 3knots, and it was several hours later than any sort of wind piped up.

We sailed the last miles into Two Harbors, on Catalina Island, and as we had been there twice before, the late-night land fall was only mildly worrying. It is well lit and buoyed, so we picked up a mooring easily enough, and all fell soundly to sleep.

We spent a full day recovering from the stress/excitement of leaving, just lazing about the boat and beach. Our friend Bob was sailing from MDR to meet us there that evening, but ran into serious trouble with fog, freighters and no radio. Charlie and I even went out on a late-night rowing rescue mission after we lost contact with him, though we couldn’t find him. Later we learned he had turned back and was safe and sound, thank goodness.

Another two nights were spent at different anchorages along the catalina coastline, honing our skills and finishing small tasks. By Thursday afternoon the wind looked good and we were ready to push off for San Diego.

The first few hours were hopeful, with great breeze off our beam. Once again though, by 10pm a dense fog rolled in and the wind completely abated. We were loathe to turn on the engine again, but at 0.05knots we decided it was time. Not a puff came our way until well into the morning hours, just 10miles from San Diego. The fog had lingered through the night too, and I was VERY thankful for our AIS device, which shows us nearby traffic and let’s them see us too.

So then we were in San Diego! Our final port in the USA and a great place for repairs and final projects. A whole six days went by as we rested, tromped around the city on business missions, readied the rest of the boat, and restocked on provisions. We were all anxious to get going, and days seemed to fly by with little productivity. In hindsight though, we achieved a lot and finished some important tasks. Finally, by Thursday afternoon we were off and away, ice-cream, coke and chips in hand (America FUCKYEAH), cruising out of the country on a steady 6knots.

We made great headway in such good breeze and 4 hours later were almost half way. Then the wind died. Around 10pm. Sound familiar? This time we motored in big swells and the constant rolling afforded little sleep. Thankfully, around 4am, she piped up again and we were able to make steady progress with full sails.

At 11am, we pushed into the Ensenada Chanel, jumped off the boat and begun life in MEXICO! Yeeha! Clearing into customs was simple, thanks to the helpful marina we stayed in for a night, and the tacos and tecate (beer) taste GOOD!

Mooring field at Two harbors

Our stern anchor keeps us from swinging

Lydia and Babsi row a stern anchor out

Darling Portal. She’s a little heavy in the stern, with everyone in the cockpit!

A row in the early morning

Our never-been-used Drifter sail. Excited to try it out!

During

Before

During

After!

The captain’s quarters – Vberth

Barbara’s Side, Port Berth

Lydia’s Berth, Starboard side

The galley

AIS – A lifesaver in the fog

The Nav Station

Portal’s solar panel set up – 4x30watt panels, give us plenty of energy.

Luckey, our trusty companion.

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Boats, Bikes and Birthdays

Charlie at the helm and keeping a keen eye out…

My new ‘Fly’… pretty gorgeous right?

This bar tape is SO hot! Yay birthdays!

And a cute little (bright) light to add more colour…

And a personal head-set top cap! yay!

And guess what the touch-up paint he used was? Nail polish! I haven’t done this in 10years! Fun!

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Floating Home

It’s been ten days since we first stepped off the South West Chief train into the Los Angeles sunshine. It was 6am and we were bleary eyed. Our get-away from Wisconsin involved a torrential down-pour that soaked our bike boxes and belongings, a 15 minutes-to-spare arrival at the station, a few desperately insulting Amtrak employees, and a mad panic that left Charlie and I separated, unsure of where the other was, each jumping between the closing doors, hoping like hell the other was onboard.

As the train pulled out, Charlie found me a few cars up, still struggling with our 6 or 7 bags. We threw our arms around each other, giddy with relief. Then he explained the bad news: our bikes hadn’t made it. They’d be on the next train (if only their boxes could hold together long enough). Finding our seats, we settled in for our three-day rolling adventure across America, finally able to relax.

John was waiting for us on our arrival, and sped us through the busy streets of building rush-hour traffic, to our new home off Palawan Way. With typical graciousness, he then found somewhere else to be for a few minutes, while we walked down the dock, to our floating dream. There she was. All beauty, all beat-up, all strength and character, as I had imagined. We stood together in the cockpit, disbelieving. Then we ventured down below, into the cosy cabin. It felt like home already! We giggled and sniggered, like a kid on a brand-new bike, unsure of how to express such joy.

We ought to have slept, at last able to rest horizontally, but at 9pm, after a day of sorting and cleaning, we looked around, saw it was dark, and wondered where the time had gone. Our first night was spent in perfect slumber, in the bow and belly of our boat, with the warm understanding that a new fire and adventure was now beginning.

Our bicycles arrived (somewhat unexpectedly) the next day, and since assembling them in the Amtrak warehouse, we have seen L.A on two wheels. We still haven’t ventured very far afield, but so far bike lanes and courteous drivers seem to be the norm rather than the exception. Our first priority has been to repair the engine, so many days have seen us scuttling around from shop to shop, looking for one part or another. We’re getting closer to the climax, and hope to hear the sweet puttering of diesel soon. That will be cause for celebration!

Which, speaking of, we’ve found no-lack of excuses for. Our first day marked a memorial of course, then the electricity hook-up (not as easy as it sounds on a floating home), then our bikes arriving safely, Charlie finishing his final class paper (and at last a free man) was another, then our week anniversary etc… etc…

And with only having finally hooked up our stove today (relying on the microwave until now), cafe breakfasts have been the logical and welcome feast for all our celebrations. Tomorrow though, to honor our propane efforts, it’ll be home-cooked eggs and bacon, with freshly brewed coffee! And our new little home will never have smelt so good!

Charlie at work on the exhaust elbow

Lily at work on the exhaust elbow

The V-Berth, in the bow of the boat, where we sleep. Even 6ft 4 charlie JUST fits…

No standing head room for such a tall man… here

But we do have three hatches he can stand in :)

Food Hammock that we found tucked away

Ships clock and Barometer

Great ports, no leaks!

A most depressing morning… Charlie’s wheels were stolen. !!! :(

A week of locking them outside with no problems, then less than 8hours of being in here and Charlie’s wheels got nicked. NOT cool. :(

California traffic… we bought new wheels and were back on the road within a few hours. You gotta have transport!

Down there is known as ‘boat-jail’. It’s where the batteries are, where the fridge electronics are etc… and the small spaces make working on anything that’s in there awfully frustrating! Still, they are nice sized lockers to store all our sails/fenders etc…

 

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Fish For Dinner

The Story of Sushi, and why we should catch our own fish:

 

 

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Arrivals

A bizarre concoction of plant life: a palm tree rooted next to an old oak; a strange accent from the friendliest of faces, Caribbean with English intonations; a perfectly manicured garden beside an old wooden shack… A dreamland, a film set, a paradise island – Bermuda.

Bermuda is one of those places I could easily say “I’d love to live here”. After an easy 6 day sail up from Tortola, it greeted the four of us with fresh breezes and a spring magic. The trip north had carried us to cooler climes, but I found myself relishing the crispy mornings and chilly nights. It struck me as such a strange assimilation of cultures.  A nice balance of clean and clumsy… highlights of imperfections on the otherwise fairytale surroundings. Hitchhiking was easy, the people angelic, the roads and landscape breathtaking. A sailing community where almost all are accustomed to long passages, and a bar scene to prove it. I fell in love. Not a slow, nostalgic, memory infused kind of love, but a fiery, first-sight, head-over-heels variety. Bermuda swept me up, took me out, spun me ’round… then sailed away.

We left on a Friday. Any self-respecting sailor will testify to the dangers of this. An absolutely guaranteed recipe for disaster. You may as well condemn yourself to the fury of the oceans, to a slow, painful sinking death. But well, there were weather windows to be taken and boats to deliver, so humbug to the superstitions, we were off.

Of course, not 3 minutes after leaving the dock – the bow thruster breaks. And so begins a series of unfortunate (though really more hassle than life-threatening) problems. Mr Murphy conspired to set the winds directly on our nose – first 30knts, then 8knots… forcing us to tack towards Scotland, then Florida, then Iceland…

Still, it wasn’t unbearable, and every day was another 24hrs of learning, sailing, experiencing. I learnt how to push a button to unfurl a mainsail… how to flick a switch to wind the electric winch… how to stare at an instrument panel for three hours, blinding my night-vision, a bimeny overhead obscuring any stars or moonlight anyway.

Ok, so a 59ft Hinckley isn’t my kind of boat… but despite all the gadgetry I did of course pick up a few new tricks and the times spent with Willy, Kirsty, and skipper Johan, were good ones. Even with the endless hours of Johan’s music… Once we were underway, he told me: “I listen to all types. Both Abba, and Tom Jones”. Lord help me.

I survived it all though, and on April 27th, close to midnight, we powered into Newport, Rhode Island – THE UNITE STATES OF AMERICA. It had taken 3 years, 3 visa applications, and a few heart-breaks to get back, but finally I had arrived.

Now… to find a bicycle.

Cetacea, 59ft Hinckley

The jib furler broke on the trip - but then we DID leave on a friday!

Bermudan Church

Fairtrade poster

Willy Nilly

Back to sailing... a dawn breaking

It's cold now!

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Juno

“Talk to your friend Brian, the broker. He knows a lot and can give you an idea of what you’re looking for”, John said to me before pulling out of Nanny Cay.  I wasn’t sure I really was ‘looking’ but the gods answered that for me when not 5 minutes later Brian pulled over: “Need a ride back to Trellis?”

We started talking boats… Brian always talks boats… and pretty soon I was mumbling something about being interested in buying one myself. “Seriously?” He took his eyes off the road to pose the question. “Uh, maybe, possibly, seriously?” I winced, knowing what was coming.

“Well, you must have heard about Juno!?”

I hadn’t. But John and I had tacked past her that very morning, commenting on her pretty lines. John said “I bet that’s a Cape Dory”. He knew my love for Cape Dory’s and had a keen eye for spotting them when I was on board. So yes, Juno was a Cape Dory, and she was moored right there in Trellis Bay, just outside my hut’s window.

How hadn’t I noticed her before? She was suddenly the cutest little boat in the bay and that I’d ever laid eyes on. I stood on the beach, digging my toes into the sand, gazing out at her, my heart skipping along to a thousand potential adventures. I borrowed a kayak and paddled out. Around once, twice, four times. Trying to take in every detail… A nick in the toe-rail (my, she’s pretty!), hairline cracks at the bow (so cute and compact!), worn out sails (just look at those curves!)… and decided she was in relatively good condition.

I paddled back to shore, dumped the kayak, grabbed a mask and swam out. Again, going around and around, my heart pumping. I had heard that to know if a boats ever going to work for you, when walking away, you should have to turn back and look again. I swam back three times.

From the beach, she was close. Then I got offered a boat-sitting job – the Columbia 43 moored RIGHT next to Juno. In the morning I woke up to dreams of her, at night I fell asleep imagining our journeys together. For 8,000 dollars (a loan), I could sail her away. I knew I would be giving up the freedom of lightweight travel, I knew I would be buying into a life of debts and bills (a boat’s just a hole in the water you throw money into)… but I could taste the sweetness of having my very own sailing queen, I could already feel the wind that would blow us around the world.

I waited for time to point me in the right direction. I made lists, I spoke to people, I checked her over again and again, inside and out. I learnt about her strengths, her weaknesses.  And finally, I decided to make an offer – next week.

The Sunday before that next week began, a road forked in my plans. Johan, a Swedish delivery captain needed crew for a sail up to Newport, Rhode Island, via Bermuda, in a 59ft Hinckley. A paid job. Leaving tomorrow. To the North East coast, my original coast-coast bike beginning. Shit.

Life will throw you so many choices and questions – the only way to answer them is to follow the signs. This felt like the right thing to do. The path was clear. I sailed off into the sunset, two days later, on a much bigger, much fancier boat that I will ever own… and Juno stayed, bobbing along on her mooring, calling to me in my Caribbean Dreamings.

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Mum and Me

After a year full of adventures, stories, advice, emails and Skype calls – finally my mother was in town. As in, the same town that I was! For two weeks, we sailed the sea, waded the water and hitchhiked the hills… here’s the proof:

Mum's tile painting - this will be my first boat, yellow with a red spinaker!

coil that line! reef that main! by god that's seamanship!

mum mum mum

The boulders from the boat

On top of the world at Virgin Gorda

Huge boulders at Virgin Gorda, and little Ramble in the background there

Why are we about to jybe? Oh right, you have to push the other way... the other way lil, tiller tiller tiller

A wheel, now that i know how to use

Ahoi captain

The shoes i made from our stearing wheel cover... still holding up!

Patty digging the sunset on Norman island

Mike having a webinar in paradise... (I didnt know what that was either)

Patty at Mr Beans Pirate gig at Marina Cay. Don't go for him!

Long Bay beach on Beef Island... and Mum

Ramble and our Yellow Banana tender there in the background. But in the Foreground, is Rubber Ducky, my ULTIMATE boat! Aulburg design and oh so beautiful!

Learning tunes from Charlie

Charlie on the fiddle

A lazy mornin'

Lydia, Charlie's 50 year old 33ft classic fibreglass beauty.

Mum putting the sail away

Another sunset another day

Mum and Charlie on Lydia

ahhhh hammocks!

Life is tough...

Another hammock another day

Hitching a ride in an icecream truck, with mum in the front seat!

A hand made gift from oceans away... thanks so much Rosie!

crank that sheet in...

Finally, an Aussie flag on the boat

Fire Poi at Trellis Bay full moon party

Fire Poi - this guy was incredible!

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Stuck in Paradise

Four months on an island 20kms long and 5kms wide. Four months, 120 days, a whole season… As someone who is rarely preoccupied with time, I was a little surprised by the anxiety gripping my chest as we sailed into Tortola. The Caribbean, not long ago, evoked images of a distant wonderland – where pirates danced on sandy shores and coconuts fell to feed them. My ignorance failed to inform me of the location of the Virgin Islands, let alone their British, American and Spanish settlements.

Now though, I had their coastal contours mapped out in front of me, and since U.S soil remained forbidden (temporarily), my life would have to fit within the wall of palm trees marking the confines of English territory. A northerly sail awaited me in April, but until then this would be home.

And although furthest away geographically, it was closer to ‘home’ – to the country I’d say I’m ‘from’ – than expected. The similarities to Vanuatu were an exciting discovery. I recognised so much of the flora (unfortunately mostly introduced) – Breadfruit trees, paw paw, banana, guava, banyan trees and what I’ll always know as ’christmas trees’ – wide shady branches with bright red flaming flowers. To bite into sugarcane again for the first time in almost a decade, it’s sticky syrup on my lips, set me into a fit of giggles for over an hour. And at 30 degrees, everyday, this was my kind of winter!

No pirates yet but pretty close to paradise, and it’s hard to get bored in paradise. I spent two weeks on the most Easterly point Wwoofing (Willing Workers On Organic Farms) with Arragorn, a local artist I met at the full moon party (it’s a small island), did some painting on the most Westerly point with Charlie, a guy who used to race on ”Ramble” (it’s a really small island), some varnishing for John, and the rest of my time in between at Cane Garden Bay with a man named Mike.

He’s from a slightly bigger, slightly colder island – Vancouver Island, Canada – and says ’boat’ so that it sounds just like ‘boot’. A longtime lightfooted traveller, he cycled down from the north west to New Orleans, sailed the east coast and is here spending three months hitchhiking around while studying online. He charmed me with his calm humility, witty humour and indiscriminate compassion. It’s been a welcome distraction for both of us – time never lasts long with lovers.

We went to an open mic night in town recently. Walking in, I recognised a dozen familiar faces, sat down next to another peddle powered friend (Scotland – China), ordered a Carib beer and realised, smiling, that I’d found myself a nice little community. It’s a very small island, but turns out it’s just big enough for me!

View from my Wwoofing hut, Trellis Bay

inside the loft

View from the farm, Trunk Bay

The Good Moon Farm

biciamoci... bikes bikes bikes

Richard and I getting into sugarcane

happy with sugar cane after so long... too long!

and the remnants... for the ants

Richard, wwoofer i got to work with

The enemy... cruise ships in Road Town

Anegada, a very low lying island... it's all reef

We sailed there and rented bikes! Perfect island for cycling!

road, or bike path?

Mike and John at lunch... you collect and clean your own food/dishes here!

mike in the cabin of ramble... dusk off Anegada

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Part of the Frambly

“Of course, it’s not the same if you smoke out of curiosity and retreat, than belonging to the joint-smoker family, in which case life becomes bit by bit something flat. Investigators say so”.

No I didn’t lose my mind, or my English skills, but I did burst into a fit of giggles after Ava read this out to me from a (very badly!) translated Spanish newspaper somewhere off the coast of the Canary Islands. And that was only the first fit of the day, there would be at least a dozen more.

Ava is the just-turned 21 year old, Texan, or better put Austinite, who has been taking a year off language studies to sail the seas. She is almost always smiles, except when she’s not, in which case she bounds down the companion way, looks in all the cupboards and proclaims “Everything sucks!”. I give her a hug and we both break into a burst of laughter over how ridiculous this sentiment is. She was the optimistic, carefree Frambly member. We sung sea shanties together, gave each other massages almost every day and seriously chuckled a whole lot. I spent more than 50% of my day in hysterics. I can’t remember the last time I had laughed so much. Our friendship blossomed into a beautiful connection, and we both grew because of it.

Brad is the 36 yr old New York lawyer. He took things pretty seriously, and wouldn’t buy into our L.A.R.Ping pursuits but is a great budding philosopher and many an hour was spent together discussing our views and ethics. I can be known to chew the cud, so to speak, as good as the best of them, so it was nice to have someone else to bounce ideas off, argue and tumble over moral issues with. Brad would cook everything in his famous Tae Kwan Do position – legs apart, firmly planted, knees bent in a squatting position and pivoting at the waist from the sink to the stove. It seemed to work better than whatever I had going on, since one fateful evening my spaghetti sauce ended up over and under just about everything.

John is still John. The solid rock, ever inspiring, ever encouraging. He took every opportunity to congratulate, boost and marvel at all of our qualities. During the course of the sail I came to BELIEVE that I could do a great many more things that I had previously thought. I’d have a dream about some goal or other, mention a few pitfalls, and John would be the first to flatten them all, say “GO FOR IT” and convince me he was right. There were also less cheery moments, when we would have our ‘little talks’ and he would quietly mention things that needed improvement or that he was disappointed in. These times were obviously difficult for John, since he doesn’t like confrontation any more than I do, and hard for me to take too, especially since I have so much respect and admiration for him, but we both understood the importance of communication and struggled through them when the need arose.

We were a team. Every three hours, at a quarter to the hour, someone would come off their watch, gently wake the next person, pop on the kettle for coco and disappear up the stairs again while the other res-erected themselves from an often fitful sleep. We read Patrick O’Brian’s navy novels to each other, told jokes and countless stories. We powered on wind, water and love. From Europe to the America’s we consumed not a drop more than 10 litres of diesel. TEN LITRES! Our drinking water lasted, with plenty to spare, and what energy we used came from a line genorator spinning off our stern.  We obeyed Captains orders by clipping in while on deck, wearing safety gear and listening up when “Teddy Bear” was called. But really, in the end, we were just four friends on a fun adventure. We had great down wind cruising which we zoomed with thanks to the ‘Twizzle Rig’, a Genoa out on each side, held up by whisker poles and suspended in mid air. We had some rough seas and a little rain, but no gales or even any major squalls.

And finally, ghosting into the Virgin Islands at two o’clock in the morning, dark shadows of land all around, a summery lightness in the air – my life finally stopped becoming ‘bit by bit something flat’ and I had gained a whole Frambly of friends.

Bracing ourselves for sleep

freshly baked bread!

yes, my hair got a little WILD... it looks like it's about to eat Ava!

We made a log entry after every watch...

clip in, clip in, clip in, don't forget to clip in!

giggling, always giggling

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