Songline, La Paz, Baja California, Mexico. 10 November 2004
Dear friends
Four weeks ago we said goodbye to friends who had shared the anchorage with us the previous night, only to get a call from them on the VHF radio when they were about half a mile offshore to say that a pod of pilot whales had just surfaced next to their boat. Breakfast was put on hold as we jumped into our dinghy and raced out to join them. We then spent the next hour or so floating about while the whales (6 of them, the largest about 15 ft long) came and inspected us. Close enough to touch (though they wouldn't quite allow us to do that), they swam alongside, dived under the dinghy and sprayed us with exhaled air, then swam off, dived, resurfaced and waited for us to catch up with them again. Another magical moment in the Sea of Cortez - probably the best so far.
When we last wrote in June, we were about to head north to spend the summer months in the Sea. We left, having taken to heart the various warnings about the hazards to expect.
Of these, our overriding concern was the threat of hurricanes. Although they rarely make an appearance in the Sea of Cortez until the latter half of the season, there is nevertheless a risk from early June until late October or even as late as November. We knew it was important to identify the secure anchorage ‘hurricane holes’ along the 450 mile stretch of the Baja California coast which we planned to cruise and, with the help of local knowledge and various cruising guides, we felt reasonably confident that we would be able to move to safe refuge within two days (either sailing or motoring) if the need arose. Because virtually all hurricanes in this part of the world start life off the southern part of the Mexican mainland, we could expect at least four or five days’ warning of any that were likely to be heading our way. As it has turned out, 2004 has been (so far, at least!!) an unusually light year for hurricane activity in the northeast Pacific (in contrast to the storms which have caused such terrible devastation in the Caribbean, eastern USA and Gulf of Mexico). Only Howard and Javier have threatened to disturb a remarkably settled four months and, while we ran for cover and battened down to wait for each of them, in the end all we saw of either was some much-needed rain.
Apart from hurricanes, and much less predictable, there are two other natural phenomena which can take boats unawares in the Sea of Cortez. The Chubasco is a sudden storm, usually originating in the mountains on the mainland side of the Sea, with strong winds, heavy rain and thunder and lightning, sometimes lasting for several hours. The Elefante is an even more violent wind-storm which comes down from the mountains on the Baja peninsular, the only warning being the appearance over the mountains of tubular clouds, which apparently wave up and down like elephants’ trunks! To our relief, we failed to make the acquaintance of an Elefante (and probably won’t now, as they occur mainly in the northern part of the Sea), and our only Chubasco experience was, happily, relatively mild. Nevertheless, it seemed quite scary at the time. We were anchored alone in a very small north-facing bay, enclosed on the other three sides by steep cliffs and mountains. Soon after supper, we noticed a lot of lightning activity far to the north. Two hours later the storm was upon us, with winds of up to 30 knots blowing straight into the bay and causing quite a build-up of waves. Next came the lightning, thunder and rain and we huddled in the cockpit in our wet weather gear watching the almost uninterrupted lightning flashes illuminate the beach less than a hundred yards behind us. We got the boat ready for a rapid departure in case the anchor started to drag or the waves started to break in the bay, but much to our relief the anchor remained firmly in place and although Songline felt a little bit like a rocking horse the waves showed no sign of becoming dangerously big. By first light the sky was clear and the bay was as calm as it had been when we first arrived. Other cruisers have been less fortunate, and a few weeks later one boat was wrecked when it was blown ashore during a particularly strong Chubasco further down the coast.
Another thing we had been warned about was the very high temperatures we would experience and at times the thermometer read over 100 deg F (40 deg C). However, the awnings which Barbara made while we were still in Ensenada (our website has a photo) kept the worst of the sun off the decks and cockpit, making for much cooler living conditions on board. And of course, when your home is surrounded by water, it’s easy to jump in at any time to cool off! Now that winter has arrived, daytime temperatures are pleasantly warm, while at night it is even cool enough to need covers on the bed - wonderful!
Dire warnings about voracious insects proved largely unfounded,. It’s mostly too dry for there to be a lot of mosquitoes, though in some areas they flourish briefly after any rain and we did spend a couple of nights under siege while a swarm of them tried to find a way through the mesh screens One insect problem we had not reckoned on - a couple of times the boat became a magnet for hordes of thirsty bees looking for fresh water. We later discovered that they could be discouraged quite easily by burning a mosquito coil, but at first we found that the only way to get rid of them was to move on to somewhere else - they quickly got the message that we were taking them away from home and abandoned ship!
We have loved our time in the Sea of Cortez. It has been a summer of almost uninterrupted good weather - sunny days and starry nights. At first sight, the Baja peninsular appears rocky, arid, mountainous and lifeless, and the absence of human habitation throughout most of its length confirms how inhospitable the land is. However, viewed from the water, the scenery takes on a different dimension. Always rugged, the coastline is a kaleidoscope of ever-changing colour and texture, ranging from grey granite cliffs to infinite shades of pink and red sandstone. The mountains rise in places to over 5000 ft (1500 metres), and much of the terrain is reminiscent of Arizona’s Grand Canyon. Not much vegetation manages to find a foothold, but there are cactus plants everywhere - most spectacularly the candelabra cactus which often grows to a height of fifteen or twenty feet, and the occasional heavy rains produce a burst of green with vines and shrubs all scrambling to push out leaves, flowers and seedheads before the Baja sun shrivels them back to their normal dry twig-like state. Wildlife on the land is not abundant, but many varieties of lizard and snake manage to survive, as do plenty of insects, spiders (including tarantulas!) and small birds and even chipmunks, hares and small families of coyotes, though it is a mystery to us where they find their water.
What the land lacks in wildlife is more than made up for by the sea, and we have seldom seen so many fish as we have while snorkelling here. This profusion, of course, encourages huge colonies of seabirds - pelicans, frigate birds, boobies, gulls, terns, ospreys and others. Several of the offshore islands are home to colonies of sealions, sometimes curious enough to join us on our snorkelling expeditions. We spent one morning sitting on the rocks on a remote island watching mothers fuss over their young families while the bulls patrolled their territory, chasing away intruders and making sure that their own harems did not stray. Some of the younger pups were so curious that they would swim close enough to almost touch us - but couldn’t quite bring themselves to be so brave and were off again in a flurry of spray. Evidently it doesn’t take long before they do pluck up the courage, as we discovered a few days ago. We went swimming off some small islands close to La Paz, which are visited daily by tourist boats, and the young sealions there were jostling for the opportunity to nibble at our flippers and fingers! Dolphins, too, have been a constant delight, often swimming alongside the boat and riding the bow-wave, and sometimes coming into the bay where we were at anchor. Another highlight has been the phosphorescence in the sea, especially on moonless nights. Standing on the deck it’s like looking into a glass of champagne with sparkling bubbles fizzing off in all directions, and swimming in the water creates one's own personal diamond-studded fireworks display. One dark night we were treated to the amazing spectacle of a group of four or five dolphins chasing a shoal of medium-sized fish right under our hull. The fish came towards us like a solid river of light, then fanned out like luminous spears as they went under the boat, with the dolphins in hot pursuit creating wakes like brilliant spiral ribbons as they raced past.
The Sea of Cortez is famous for its whales, and we have had many sightings (and hearings!). Sometimes all that can be seen is the plume of spray as they exhale, but we have seen several 30 to 50 foot fin-back whales only a few boat lengths away. On several quiet nights, we have been woken by the sounds of deep, sonorous breathing, and have crept up on deck to listen to the giants who were visiting us in our anchorage. One morning we took the dinghy a little way up the coast and sat entranced as a fin-back whale about five times the length of our small boat lazily slid his immense bulk past us and rolled over to filter plankton from the water. We still find it hard to believe that such huge creatures can find all the nourishment they need in something so tiny.
We, of course, need something a little bigger than plankton to keep us going, so we optimistically bought our Mexican fishing licences while we were still in San Diego. To begin with, we felt that the money might have been better spent buying the fish and leaving the fishing to the professionals, but since we started heading north from La Paz, we have kept ourselves supplied with fresh fish practically the whole summer. Our best catches have mainly been while trolling a line from Songline while we have been on the move. Our favourite is dorado (also known as mahi-mahi or dolphin fish). Dorado are the most spectacular colours - brilliant golden yellow with royal blue flecks (see our newly-updated website for photographs) The male dorado has a big domed forehead and after they take the lure they fight and splash near the surface of the water in a desperate attempt to throw the hook. Often they succeed, but with the ones that don’t we have an exciting time getting them aboard - one of us hanging over the back of the boat with the landing net, while the other winds in furiously. We don’t have a gaff (much too scared of putting it through ourselves instead of the fish!) and have lost several fish as we struggled to get them into the net The biggest we have managed to land was about 40 inches - quite large enough for us, though relatively small by Baja standards, where 5-6 foot dorado are not uncommon. We have also caught plenty of smaller fish from the dinghy, and have become better shots with our pole spears as the summer has progressed. When fish have been in short supply, we have feasted on clams, oysters or scallops instead, and the tins of chicken are still sitting in the provisions locker!
Something that has surprised us is the small number of boats cruising the northern part of the Sea of Cortez this summer - no more than forty. This has meant that we have been very spoilt for choice of anchorage, often having a whole bay or even a whole island all to ourselves and never having to worry about the possibility of overcrowding! It seems doubtful that we shall be so fortunate as we head further south.
At the moment, our plan is to leave La Paz early next week, heading straight for Puerto Vallarta about 400 miles away on the Mexican mainland. We hope to fly back to England for a short pre-Christmas visit, getting back in time for Barbara’s Mum and her friend Gordon to join us for Christmas itself. While in Puerto Vallarta we are also hoping to complete the installation of a full enclosure for Songline’s cockpit - a project which has been waiting for somewhere where we know we can get good canvas work carried out.
In the New Year we plan to continue south to Panama, taking about five months to get there. On the way we hope to do some travelling in Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras and Nicaragua. For the summer months, when it gets really wet in Panama, we expect to move on to Ecuador, and to base Songline there while we do some more travelling in South America.
We hope that you are all keeping well, and we look forward to hearing from you as we head further south.
With love and best wishes from
John and Barbara.