There are only a few places you can anchor with protection down the Pacific Coast. Watching the weather reports and planning a head and having your plan B is important. Our life right now isn’t dictated by due dates and meetings any more but it is definitely dictated by the wind. The time we can stay at one particular place all depends on the weather patterns and what is coming. There isn’t much protection and we are in an unpredictable weather season right now. This has us vigilantly looking at the weather and trying to get a grasp to what will be comfortable or not.
Our plan will be to day hop as much as we possible can. But we are in winter and short daylight hours makes this difficult as most of our trips now will be at least 12 hours. So that makes us leaving early in the morning to be at our next anchorage by dark. Most of the time we were anchoring just as the sun is setting.
Our first stop after leaving Ensenada is Punta Santos Tomas. A very small fishing village up on a hill with rolling green hills behind. Probably tomato farms. So many pangas line the beach. The bay is quiet and tranquil. We no longer have any cell service. We enjoy the sunset and make a delicious dinner. Plan to wake around 5am we head to bed early. Like as in 7 pm early. It is ok. Our bodies are getting use to going to sleep and waking with the sun and it is pitch black out side. We sleep like babies until around midnight when the gentle breeze stops and we are awaken to swell at our beam again. First you feel the tilt to one side then you tip back to the other side at an angle sharper than the last. But your not done, you quickly tip back even further and then like magic you stop up right as still as can be just gently bobbing up and down. It is the strangest sensation and can quit literally drive you mad as it happens over and over and over. We some how make it to 5 am and prepare to pull anchor. A panga full of fisherman head out with a friendly wave. We pull anchor and follow them out of the bay. They disappear into the horizon and we head left yet again.
We sail at a snails pace of 2 knots until the wind completely goes away and we are left to motor. As we motor and try to sail Sam puts his trolling line out and we laugh as over and over he catches nothing but sea grass. The minutes turn into hours and soon half our day has gone. So has the bright blue skies that have now be replaced with a grayish overcast. The swell is picking up. As we approach Bahia Colonet it appears to be a long stretch of beach. From our view it is hard to imagine how this is suppose to stop the swell. It is a wonder what angle do to project on coming swells. As we travel in closer and closer to the white sand we pass the first butte. The wind slowly dies but we still have a large swell hitting our stern. We are afraid we will be rocking all night. Oh well. There isn’t a choice. We check the charts for our anchor spot which will be past a water fall and then just past a notch in the butte. Looking to our left we see the rather large water fall. Its beautiful streaming down from the edge of the butte. The notch is not much further ahead and we are prepared for the wind that funnels down through the notch. With those moments of gusting wind tunnel we fail to realize the swell has stopped slapping us from behind. We find our anchor spot which seems to be right in the middle of the ocean. But we drop the hook and get situated and put everything away. The sun begins to set lighting the area around us in a stunning light show. That is when we realize we are practically sitting still.
We sit out watching the sunset and take in the view. The light tan messa. The lacey white waterfall pouring into the bright blue ocean lined by a light sand beach lined with layers and layers of rolling hills and mountains in the distance. There we are. Floating right in the middle of it with a three hundred and sixty degree view of natural raw rugged beauty. We sit speechless as we soak it all in trying to file away the memories of every little movement or lack of that takes place in that moment. I could hear my grandmothers voice saying “just be still”. That we were. So still. Each of us not wanting the moment to pass. But it did with the rumble of our stomachs reminding us that we hadn’t really eaten anything all day and that we had a fish waiting for us.
That is right. Sam caught his first fish! Bonito! Which is an edible fish from the Tuna Sardine family. Looks a lot like a Skipjack. Almost identical. It is a beautiful fish but very strong tuna flavored dark meat. It helps that it is fresh, we bleed it well, and we had milk to soak it in. Fresh it’s good. Using mild seasonings is best. We will come to realize that we really can’t freeze it. It just gets stronger the longer it sits. So we will be extremely grateful every time we fish and catch something else.
We finish up dinner. Enjoying the solitude and beauty all around us. We do our weather checks for the coming days. We know we have a day of motoring ahead of us as there is not wind forecasted for tomorrow. But there is suppose to be a switch to a South West wind tomorrow night so we make the decision to go toward Isla San Martin. A small island made up of two inactive volcanos. There is a small fishing village there that had made a small break wall that would provide some protection from SW winds. We went to bed and had the most peaceful quiet sleep in our lives. I woke up once not sure where we were because we quit literally weren’t moving at all. In the morning we woke to a flat glassy bay. The only ripples being made by the fish sneaking to the surface to catch bugs and birds gracefully landing and taking off. It was if we were sitting on a mirror. It was hard to pull anchor that morning knowing we were leaving this magical bay for a day a motoring but it had to be done.
We motor out and towards Isla San Martin. To our surprise the wind picked up and we were able to sail for a good portion of the day. Sam put his pole in again and we caught another fish. Another Bonito. And then another one. Freezer is full so now no more fishing. A little wile later we notice a panga out in the distance coming straight towards us. As he gets closer we realized he was coming straight to us and not around us. This is exciting. I wonder what he wants or needs. We wave and he and his younger amigo wave with big smiles. They come along side us and we see their boat is full of fish. We mean full. All organized by species. We think they asked us if we were going to Cabo. which we say yes. Later we realize how many Cabo there are and hope we understood correctly. Lesson to our selves. Should have learned more Spanish. He asked if we were fishing and how many we caught. Sam said three. He was pleased with that it seemed. He asked if we had water or cerveza. Sad to say we didn’t have any cerveza. I also didn’t have single waters just a gallon. I showed him the gallon of water and a can of coca cola. He took the water. I tried to give him two gallons and he wouldn’t take it. Just uno he said. We managed a few more words and then it was time to say good bye. With smiles and “my amigos” “Felize Navidad” they were off. We watched them speed off in the panga toward land. Hasta Luego Amigos.
With the pangaros disappearing into the horizon we continued toward Isla San Martin. There we anchor just before sunset in water so clear we could see the anchor dig into the sand. We spend Christmas Eve with thankful hearts and smiles on our faces. A little sadness in our hearts not being home during this time. We are all alone. And we don’t know how we feel about it. There isn’t a single person on the island. We are there alone but together. The clear sky lays out a blanket of stars that run from horizon to horizon nearly touching the water. The ocean reflects what it sees in the sky. Such a beautiful quiet moment in time. A Sea lion quietly swims across the bay pass us and heads out to his family laying on the break wall. They great him with a few barks and all is quiet again. The birds begin gently landing in the water and then gracefully returning to land. Us and the land go to sleep.
