Monday, September 21, 2009

Solstice to Solera

Last winter I put Solstice up for sale. It was a difficult decision but the conditions on the Sea of Cortez, from my experience there, require a larger boat. The buyer was a fellow from Bainbridge Island who is a longtime sailor and knows his vintage boats. Solstice was listed on the Sailing Texas web site for two weeks when he called and said “I’m going to buy your boat. What will it take to get the deal done.” It was that easy. He plans to keep her in San Carlos as a coastal cruising boat for the winter months.

So, Cyn and I prepared Solstice for sale then purchased our new boat. It’s another vintage boat, they are more affordable, and this one is really special. She’s a 1964 Columbia 40 Cutter designed by Charlie Morgan. A classic offshore racing design from the CCA era. We had a nice sea trial in about ten knots of wind, pretty flat seas with full mainsail, genoa, and staysail up. We were making just under seven knots… pretty sweet. A whole lot of money was spent on her by a previous owner and she looks incredible. All the important cruising gear is already installed but a couple of items need to be refurbished. Her new name is Solera, after the rum, the blending process, and the connection to the sun (not necessarily in that order). If you are interested look up Solera on Wikipedia for a good explanation. Here's some pictures from last Spring.




Sea of Cortez Sailing Trip Log Oct. - Nov. 2008 Aboard SV Solstice

Here's a video link from this trip -

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vsFh6ILoN1A&feature=channel















Week I

The trip down with Solstice, our Cal 2-27, in tow was not bad at all. Cyn and I did have a few interesting moments though. Not long after leaving Pueblo somewhere near Walsenberg I got pulled over. The cop claimed that I did not keep my turn signal on long enough when I changed lanes! My guess is that he just wanted to get a better look at the boat. I got off with just a warning.

The weather did not cooperate all the way through New Mexico. A cold front moving through gave us a headwind almost the whole time. In the southern part of the state it was over 30 mph. This changed the gas mileage from a miserable 10 mpg to a horrible 5mpg. We gave up and got a motel. The rest of the trip was much better. It felt like we were going down hill and with the wind all the way through Arizona and Mexico.

We crossed the border last Sunday. I checked the internet and read that the truck crossing was closed to vehicles over 8 ½ feet high on Sundays. Solstice is just over 13 feet. I made some calls and was told by a local to just drive through downtown Nogales with the boat. Didn’t sound like a good idea to me but what do I know? Later, while approaching the border in central Nogales, a couple of Mexicans who spoke good English pulled up next to me and said “You better not take that through town! You will knock down power lines and all kinds of stuff. Do a u-turn and take the truck route.” Only problem was doing a u-turn with a truck and trailer over 50 feet long! We managed to do it with nearby Mexican police watching and shaking their heads. We breezed through the truck crossing without a problem and arrived in San Carlos at around 6 pm on Sunday. Two days and two hours after leaving Pueblo.

We spent Monday relaxing and preparing Solstice for a morning launch on Tuesday. The launching process was pretty cool. You back up to a crane, the marina guys strap the 7000 lb. boat up, lift it off the trailer and gently swing it out over the water and lower it in. The rest of the day was spent completing the remaining rigging and final prep. for sailing.

Wednesday was sea-trial day. What a great sail! The wind was between 8 and 12 knots with very flat seas. Solstice cruised along between 4 ½ and 5 ½ kts on beautiful turquoise water. She left a trail of white foam that hissed like soda water as it dissipated. The striking coastline around San Carlos with the 1500 foot tall Tetas de Cabra to the north and islands and beaches to the south make the area a beautiful place to sail. When I think about it, it has been over five years since I first contemplated sailing on my own on the Sea of Cortez. It’s immensely satisfying to finally be doing it. Life is good! We sailed over 8 miles that afternoon and tacked only one time. That will take some time to get used to!

Cyn and I went snorkeling yesterday at a small cove on the way out of the marina. It’s a great spot with a sandy beach, palm trees and cliffs on both sides. The fish were amazing. There were dozens of different species in just about every color you could imagine. The few I recognized were triggers, angels, wrasses and gobys. Some looked like a kind of tang but I’m not sure. It was fun though. The water is a pleasant 82 degrees.

The latest news down here is hurricane Norbert. Kind of a dorky name for a category 3 hurricane with winds over 150 mph. It stalled off the coast of Baja for a couple of days and is now headed for us. Projected landfall is about 40 miles south of here at about midnight tonight. The forecast is for tropical storm conditions when it hits with winds between 35 and 70 kts and 4 to 8 inches of rain. The Port Captain has closed the Port to keep boats from getting into trouble. We’ve doubled up our dock lines and are in a well protected slip so we’re crossing our fingers and hoping for the best.

Cindy will be heading back to Colorado on Wednesday. I hope we get some good sailing conditions before she goes. I’m staying until late November when she comes back down and gets me. It’s so easy to settle in down here and just go with the flow. We just found out today that our clocks have been off by an hour the whole time. I’m starting to loose track of what day it is. Now I understand why the sign on the door of Barracuda Bob’s, the marina’s coffee shop, says “If we’re closed it must be Wednesday”.

Week II

Thankfully hurricane Norbert missed us by about 80 miles. It made landfall to the south which was the best possible scenario. We experienced a short period of 25 mph winds, some beautiful cloud formations, and that’s about it. It never even rained. Cyn and I even went sailing the morning after. Maybe not the smartest thing but according to the forecast, it was going to be our only opportunity for the next several days. A “Norther” was going to set in and last until Wednesday. It is a weather system with strong north winds.

It was a nice sail. We stayed within the large bay between San Carlos and Guaymas. This offered the protection we needed from the north wind and swell. Farther out to sea we could see all hell breaking loose. We watched a shrimp boat offshore. It looked just like Deadliest Catch on TV. We sailed about 15 miles Sunday and headed in at around 2:00. It turned out to be about an hour too long. As we approached the entrance to the harbor the wind increased dramatically. I partially furled the genoa and sailed overpowered in a steady 25 knot wind with stronger gusts. Solstice did just fine. Soon we were in the protected harbor, dropped sail, and motored in. Had to tie up to the gas dock until evening when the wind subsided and we could make it to our slip.

With sailing out of the question we decided to check out Macapule Canyon just north of town. What an unexpected surprise. I guess I would describe it as an incredible canyon oasis with waterfalls, caves, palm trees, amazing cactus and cliffs nearly 1000 feet tall! While walking in we saw a family of coati at the base of the canyon wall. They look like a cross between a raccoon and a monkey. There must have been fifteen or so total. Other than the wildlife, we had the place to ourselves the whole time. All this just 15 minutes from San Carlos.

We got an early start on Tuesday and took the dinghy out to Martini Cove near the entrance to the harbor. This is was the last day for the Norther, so Cyn and I decided to do some more snorkeling. This spot is a little farther out so the fish were bigger and the water even clearer. There was a sunken fishing boat near where we anchored so I went down to check it out. Swimming past the bow overhang I saw the head of the largest moray eel I’ve ever seen. I tried to get Cyn to dive down and have a look but she declined when I explained the whole eel thing to her. We headed back early so we would not get blown to Costa Rica when the afternoon wind kicked up.

The forecast for the next several days is great! Clear skies and winds in the teens every day. I can’t wait!


Week III

The sailing has been great! I met up with an old climbing friend, Oscar Berven, who has been living and sailing in the area for eleven years. We went out in my boat last Thursday and sailed the racecourse for the upcoming 38th annual Tucson Sailing Club Regatta. Solstice proved to be pretty fast on the almost 15 mile course. There was a good steady wind that kept the boat driving along at around six knots. It will be an interesting race as it goes three miles out to sea to a buoy, back around two islands, up near a beach, then to an upwind finish in San Carlos. Oscar thinks Solstice has a good chance to finish near the front of the fleet. We’ll see. I’ll let you know how we do. The regatta takes place the first weekend in November.

I subscribed to Buoy Weather on the internet to get a reliable forecast. Buoy Weather has a network of weather buoys up and down the Sea of Cortez and provides an “accurate” seven day forecast. Based on this info I decided to single hand north up the coast to San Pedro Bay and then to Caleta Serimuerto (dead Seri Indian cove). The round trip as the crow flies is about 38 miles.

I left the marina at around 9:00 on Saturday morning with no wind and had to motor the first five or so miles. The sea surface was calm but there was a two foot swell coming from the north. After coffee and a big breakfast that morning beginnings of mal de mar (seasickness) set in. What has worked for me before is to stay in the cockpit and keep looking at the horizon. Going below to the cabin would be bad news. I felt a little queasy for a couple of hours then was fine for the rest of the trip.

The wind freshened and steadily built as the day went on. It was just about perfect sailing. The swell was never over two feet. The apparent wind maxed out at sixteen knots and Solstice was making a steady six plus knots. Sailing in the sea down here in these conditions was similar lake sailing except that everything is increased by a factor of about ten. Each leg on a tack is about two or three miles. I had to plan my entry into San Pedro Bay much like I would plan entering a cove at Lake Pueblo. It’s just that the distances are much greater.

San Pedro Bay is beautiful. It was Saturday night so I shared the anchorage with an incredible forty plus foot ketch and a thirty foot sloop. We were later joined by a Catalina 25. There was plenty of room for everyone. The first evening was dead calm. While in the cabin reading I herd a commotion just behind the transom. I’ll do my best to describe the scene. It was a moonless night and the stars were as bright as I have ever seen. The Milky Way was casting a long muted reflection on the water. The mirror-like surface was filled with points of light but some of them were moving. I’ve seen bioluminescence before but never like this. It reminded me of fireflies in the Midwest flashing on and off. More incredible was the affect caused by the thousands of fish around my boat. They were in some kind of feeding frenzy and each time one would dart or jump a shower of underwater sparks was set off. I sat with my arms over the lifeline watching the show for almost an hour!

Sunday I did some snorkeling, went for a hike down the beach took pictures, and lazed around reading or just piddling around. It was true recreation. There were no worries with a good solid anchor down and light winds all day. All the other boats left so I had the place to myself until a fishing boat showed up late in the afternoon.

I weighed anchor before dawn on Monday. It was calm so I motored three miles up to Serimuerto, another beautiful spot. I got a welcome from hundreds of cormorants and pelicans and watched the sunrise from the cove. The birds made me laugh. They were all in a big flock on one side of the cove when a single cormorant decided to fly to the other side. That simple act started a chain reaction in the whole flock. Within a minute or so all the birds were on the other side squawking and fighting for territory. Since “home” was about twenty miles down the coast it was time to move on.

The mellow sail back was a beam reach, to a run then finished with a couple of miles wing on wing. The wind was light and the current against me so I was making only about three knots over ground. Even with that I was back in my slip shortly after three in the afternoon.

Time for a cerveza!

Week IV

It’s been kind of a quiet week for me here in San Carlos. Went to Guaymas, 11 miles south of here, to explore town and get more of a feel for the local culture and see what the town has to offer. Having visited Sonora for over twenty years, I’m impressed by the steady improvement in living conditions and the overall infrastructure. Not to say all is well, but things have gotten much better. The other striking difference from our first visit are the prices. Forget about $.50 beers and $3.00 meals. All you get is about a 15% discount from US prices. If that helps contribute to the improvement in the situation for the locals…I’m all for it!

The mayor of Guaymas has big plans for his town. The port is undergoing a major renovation. I saw some design drawings that look like the waterfront in Sidney Australia. With the global economic meltdown I doubt it will happen anytime soon. Spending the afternoon in town was a pleasant experience. School had just let out and the uniformed kids were walking home or getting picked up, happy to be finished for the day. The park by the main church had a lot of activity with young and old enjoying the pleasant weather. While walking to the open market I passed a couple of young girls who were happily chasing each other. They gave an exuberant “HOLA!” as they passed by. I asked for “un photo por favor” and got a priceless picture. The locals are a happy bunch, especially around San Carlos, lots of singing, laughing and joking.

The dinghy is inflated and back in the water so I went exploring yesterday. I did some more snorkeling on the other side of Martini Cove which was excellent, stopped at a beach and scrambled up a rocky ridge to get a nice view of the mooring area, then headed back home. The natural beauty of this place is remarkable.

I sailed for about four hours today in perfect conditions. Single handing requires some planning though. The vicinity of the marina experiences a mini “hurricane” every afternoon. I’ve found that it’s best to return by 1:00 or just stay out until dusk when it all settles down. Getting into a slip alone during mid afternoon would be a real challenge. This weather phenomenon is caused by the 1500 foot Tetas de Cabra. The normal 10 knot afternoon wind is funneled around the peaks and intensified through the marina. The benefit is it’s a nice cooling breeze and keeps the whole area comfortable. We’re still getting temps in the high 80’s.

Tomorrow I’m going to get up early and dinghy all the way down to Pilar beach. If I’m there by 8:00 I should be able to snorkel with dolphins at the mouth of the estuary. They are there every day at that time like clockwork.

Week V,

Tom arrived last Thursday morning. After a quick breakfast at Rosa’s Cantina we took Solstice out and did some snorkeling and sailing. We had Martini Cove to ourselves for the time we were anchored. As we left another sailboat was coming into the cove. When we passed the skipper called over and said “You’re headed straight for a large pod of dolphins”. Sure enough we looked ahead and saw them. They were heading across to starboard about a hundred yards ahead of us. It looked as if the fifty or so dolphins would pass well ahead until I saw one veer off and head straight for us. That was all it took for the whole pod to turn and surround Solstice. They were diving, jumping and checking us out for maybe three or four minutes before they decided to continue on their way. We had a really good sail after that. More nice, somewhat light, wind conditions. The sea surface was incredibly smooth so we easily moved along at around four knots.

The Regatta is this weekend and I’m writing after the first day of racing. Tom, Roger and I are doing a good job of representing Pueblo’s Liberty Point Yacht Club. We finished third overall today! We had a great start and with two other boats, found some wind that carried us ahead of the rest of the fleet. We tried everything to move up and take the lead but just could not get it done. We made up some time with our higher PHRF rating and are sitting three minutes out of second place. Not bad considering it was a fifteen mile course and race of over four hours. The first place finisher is in a full race boat. Second was a stripped down San Juan 28. I’m feeling pretty proud of Solstice right now. There’s all kinds of cruising gear on her and she still kicked ass.

By the way, I met Roger our third crew member this week at Barracuda Bob’s. His wife Terri thought I looked like a local (not really any kind of compliment, I must have needed a shower) and asked some general questions about San Carlos. Turns out the two Canadians from BC are here looking to buy a sailboat. Roger expressed interest in the regatta. So, when I found out he is a Cambridge educated retired Canadian Navy navigator, I asked him if he wanted to crew. He was really excited and we appointed him as our tactician. Today’s forecast is for very light winds. It will make things interesting for sure. We should have an advantage over the bigger boats and the smaller boats will do better against us. You’ll get the final results in the next e-mail.

After the regatta Tom and I are going to cruise up the coast with a few boats from the Tucson Sailing Club. We plan to be out for seven days. Weather permitting we will cross over to Baja late in the week. I’ll send pictures and let you know how it went next time.

Week VI

Well, the second day of racing was good, but not as good as the first. The start was one of our biggest challenges. The wind was very light. I chose the same side of the line as Saturday but had a difficult time keeping Solstice slow enough to cross at the gun. We luffed the sails and steered off but nearly clipped the start buoy at the far side of the line. We crossed ok then immediately sailed into a patch of calm air. It was frustrating to watch about seven or eight boats to our starboard accelerate past us. When we finally got into clean air Solstice took off. As we approached the first mark we were in fifth place.

Conditions were excellent for the rest of the race. Winds stayed constant at around ten knots out of the North West. I made a couple of mistakes here and there but the Cal’s speed made up for them. Interestingly, one of our biggest battles was with another Cal. It was a thirty four footer so it should have soundly beat us on waterline alone. I think with new sails it would have. We rounded Isla Peruana and started the long final leg in third place. That’s when we noticed a really fast 25 foot racer closing on us. It had a nice set of mylar sails and as it passed we could see its open transom and stripped out interior. They slowly stretched their lead but never got too far ahead. So, we crossed the finish line in fourth position but were able to hold on to third place overall for the regatta. The Tucson Sailing Club had a nice dinner that evening and Tom and I graciously accepted our award. Roger, our tactician, could not join us Sunday because his son was arriving that afternoon from London.

The club cruise was scheduled to leave Monday. We attended the organizational meeting in the morning and listened to the itinerary. It sounded like a great trip but the day they planned to cross over to Baja was the same day a norther was forecast to blow in. We decided to go but planned to head back to San Carlos early if the high winds were still predicted.

It was a nice fifteen mile sail to San Pedro Bay, our first anchorage. Not long after we arrived a dinghy motored up. A couple who had been fishing asked us if we wanted a Sierra and held up this beautiful silver, yellow and blue fish. They had more than they could eat and did not want to waste it. We improvised dinner and had the freshest and tastiest filets I’ve had in a long time. This experience got us motivated to troll with the line and flies Mike Nolen was nice enough to give me before I left Pueblo. We did good and bad. Tom caught four fish but they were all Skipjacks and not good for eating. We’ll keep trying though.

The strong northwest swell was running into the anchorage all night. We knew there was wind on the way. On Tuesday we were scheduled to anchor seventeen miles up the coast in Las Cocinas with the club. Wind and swell continued to increase as we sailed north so Tom and I decided to stop at Julio Villa instead. It’s an anchorage about a mile from Las Cocinas but offers much better protection from the northwest. Plus, it’s a good candidate for the most beautiful spot in the whole Sea of Cortez (check out the pictures, also look for the three sailboats spread out along the horizon in #36). Since the forecast had not changed, Tom and I decided to head back to San Carlos the next morning. We let the club know our plan via VHF radio.

Solstice really shined on that long sail back. We had to motor for a while but when the wind filled in we set sail and had an incredible ride. Waves built to the four to six foot range, wind was steady at around sixteen knots, and we were really moving. I’ve never surfed down the backs of waves in a sailboat before so it was a lot of fun steering and watching the speed on the GPS. The highest I saw was a brief burst to 7.8 knots! We covered the thirty plus mile track in just over five hours. Not bad.

Week VII

Tom headed back to Colorado last week but before he did we had one last sail. This time we went toward Guaymas to a little cove called Carricito. We left San Carlos with the wind at our backs broad reaching across San Francisco Bay, then continued out to sea a couple of miles. The wind and swell were building as we headed south. Solstice did some more surfing but on bigger waves this time, the GPS had a high reading of 8.2 kts. Then we jibed and cruised into the cove. It’s a very nice spot with two small beaches, cliffs and steep hillsides all around. We spent an enjoyable night there since it provided great protection from wind and wave. Tom had talked to another sailor in San Carlos who said he was joined by a pod of dolphins on his last trip to Carricito. They found his anchor line interesting and began to rub against it. He grabbed hold from the surface and began giving dolphin back scratches with the line. We kept an eye out hoping for a visit but never saw any dolphins.

The sail back was really special. I phoned ahead and requested that the wind be shifted overnight to provide us with a more enjoyable return trip. Sure enough we woke to southerlies! San Francisco Bay is the large crescent shaped bay between San Carlos and Guaymas. Its shape made it possible for us to start the long twelve mile trip wing on wing then as we followed the curving shoreline we gradually sheeted in the sails. Often we were just a hundred yards or so off the beach. We ran, broad reached, beam reached, and then ended the sail pointing as tight as we could to make it into the small bay by the marina. It was a nice way to finish off Tom’s visit.

Cindy arrived later in the week. It’s so good to be back together after nearly a month apart. I wanted her first day to be special so we did a short sail north over to Catch 22 beach and anchored just off shore. This is the nicest developed beach on this stretch of coast. Clean white sand, mountains for a backdrop, and the Soggy Peso Beach Bar. We had tostadas piled high with fresh crab ($1.25 each), cocktails and listened to a great local band. We decided to spend the night anchored there.

On Monday, after checking the forecast and talking strategy, we decided to cross the Sea of Cortez to Baja. It’s about 75 miles across to Santa Rosalia and here is what we expected our trip to be like. We would leave around 1:00 in the afternoon and have a nice quick sail with the afternoon breeze, enjoy the sunset as the wind dies, fire up the motor, set the autopilot, take turns at the watch, and cruise into the marina at daybreak. It would be perfect! Especially since the Buoy Weather site predicted great conditions.

Didn’t quite work out that way. We left in a fifteen knot wind under reefed main and full headsail. Soon we were overpowered and it was time to furl in some genoa. We had to point fairly tight to stay on track so we took spray over the deck and onto the dodger from time to time. We furled the headsail three more times as the afternoon and evening went on. At about 11:00 PM I said two stupid things. First was “Look Cindy we’re right in the middle of the Sea of Cortez.”, second “I hope it does not get so bad that I need to put the second reef in”. Not more than fifteen minutes later we were in winds close to 25 kts., hove to putting in the second reef. Next time I’ll keep those thoughts to myself.

By just after midnight, the wind settled in to the 16 to 18 range and stayed there. Cindy was able to get some sleep and I was in the cockpit, autopilot on, lounging on cushions with my back resting on the lee combing. It was actually comfortable! A beautiful half moon had risen and was casting shadows. The bow wake sent out a shower of bioluminescence with each wave we hit. I was happy the boat handled so well in the rough conditions. All you need to do is reduce sail as the wind increases, pretty simple. Also, it doesn’t hurt to have a boat designed by Bill Lapworth. The more I sail Solstice the more I appreciate the skill and knowledge great naval architects like Lapworth have.

Boat speed was our only other problem. We were going too fast and would be arriving way too soon. At three in the morning we were only five miles off the coast and right on track to Santa Rosalia. Entering an unfamiliar harbor at night seemed like a bad idea so we decided to heave to. Cyn stood watch and I got a couple of hours of sleep. We drifted at about one knot directly back on our track. We arrived in Santa Rosalia at daybreak in gentle winds, tied up to the dock at the new marina there, and got some needed rest. All in all, the trip across was an excellent experience. It was a milestone in our relatively short sailing careers.

Cindy and I are going to explore town today, then prepare for the return trip. Once again the forecast is good. We’ll see. I’m looking forward to it. This time we are leaving early, before dawn, making the passage in daylight, and arriving in San Carlos in the evening.

The ferry just arrived from Guaymas. Hey, I think Cindy is in line to buy a ticket back!

Week VIII,

The sail back to San Carlos turned out to be excellent. We left before dawn in calm conditions and motored until daybreak. The sun rose and the wind filled in as we approached Isla Tortuga about ten miles off the Baja coast. We killed the motor and set sail in about ten knots which soon increased to about sixteen and stayed there. I chose a route that had us skirt the south shore of the island. This, I hoped, would give us a better angle on the wind and put us on a beam reach. Sure enough, the wind and waves were out of the North West so we got a fast comfortable ride. I set the autopilot, trimmed the sails, and didn’t touch a thing for over four hours. Wind direction and speed remained constant and Solstice just took care of herself. We watched Tortuga fade behind us as the tops of the Tetas came into view ahead. I had to tweak the sail trim a couple of times that afternoon but that was about it. We were mostly along for the ride.

Once again I underestimated the speed of the Cal. We anticipated arriving in the early evening. It was becoming clear we would be arriving from our 74 nautical mile passage at around 1530, the windiest time of day. There was some concern but at this point we were confident we could handle about anything. The last hour of the thirteen hour crossing found us in 24 knot winds and the biggest seas we had yet experienced. No problem though. We sailed out of the wind and swell as we rounded Punta Doble, dropped sail, and motored into the marina. We even made it back in time to go get fish tacos at JJ’s!

We took it easy over the next couple of days. Did some shopping, had dinner with Oscar and Pilar, worked on the boat a little, and oh yeah, checked out a 1964 Columbia 40 Cutter that’s for sale at nearby Marina Real. We both really like her. She’s a classic with lots of style and in great condition for her age. Oscar is contacting the owner for us. So, and I can’t believe I’m writing this, Solstice will be for sale if it all works out.

Our time down here is running out but we wanted to get one last overnight sail in before we left. This time we headed back up the coast about 14 miles to a little anchorage called Caleta Amarga. It’s near San Pedro Bay where I spent some time earlier in the trip. Amarga is tiny with room for two boats at most. We had the cove all to ourselves. The sunset that night was the most spectacular of the entire trip. Cindy got to experience many of the same things I had at San Pedro, like having a bat fly in her face, incredible bioluminescence, cormorants and pelicans everywhere, but also the peacefulness of a quiet anchorage late at night.

I’m leaving Solstice in Marina Seca dry storage for the next four months. It costs only $60 per month to store a boat on a trailer there. Plus, since the storage yard is so close to the main marina the mast can stay up. Cyn & I will be back in April for another two month stay. After spending a few weeks in San Carlos Cindy said “You know, everyone down here is trying to figure out how to stay longer”. It’s hard to leave paradise!

Sea of Cortez Kayak Crossing

Here is an article Ric and Dan Heidenreich collaborated on that was published in Canoe & Kayak magazine. It provides a great introduction to the Sea of Cortez.

Pictures link - share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=9AcNmbFy2bMnq


Crossing the Sea of Cortez



There was no mistaking what I just heard. I turned and instantly saw it. It was chilling to be so close, the sheer size; the shape of the fin; the water glistening on its smooth, rounded, grey back. But mainly, it was the sound of the air escaping its huge lungs that was so startling. How can a living breathing creature be so massive? Then it was gone. The encounter lasted barely fifteen seconds but the images of that Finback whale were playing in my memory as vividly as an IMAX movie. Its incredible mass gave the illusion that it was moving in slow motion. That, coupled with the intensity of the experience made me feel like time had been warped and stretched. When I looked over my other shoulder at long-time friend and kayaking partner Dan Heidenreich, I could instantly tell he just had the same kind of experience.

The Finback is the second largest species of whale. Only the Blue is larger. Adult Finbacks commonly reach eighty feet in length and weigh one hundred twenty thousand pounds. When they surface and spout-off, a twenty five foot tall mushroom cloud of spray quickly rises up then slowly dissipates. I was only forty feet away from this one in a sixteen foot, sixty pound kayak.

Soon we realized the encounter was not over. This one was only the first in a pod of whales. We were all traveling in the same general direction as the Finbacks surfaced one by one. I felt surrounded, my eyes darting back and forth in an effort to keep track of them. Just as it seemed they had moved on, I spotted one last whale. This maverick was coming straight at us off the port bow! At a distance of sixty feet it gently dove, but continued on its course, fully visible through the clear water of the Sea of Cortez. By the time it passed under my kayak it had transformed into a massive school bus sized silhouette about twenty feet below. I sat motionless for several minutes trying to fully absorb what had just happened. Moments before, we were quietly paddling along, miles from shore, just specks on the vast surface. Was it coincidence that in this expansive sea a group of whales surfaced right next to us? I’m convinced these massive animals have a keen awareness of their surroundings, and a good bit of curiosity!

Our journey started four days earlier in the small coastal village of San Carlos, Mexico. It is a stunningly beautiful place situated midway down the mainland shore of the Sea of Cortez. Oscar Berven, a former climbing partner who had washed down out of the mountains of Colorado several years ago, agreed to assist Dan and me in a kayak crossing of the sea along the Midriff Islands. Oscar, now living in San Carlos, had become an accomplished sailor and was willing to deliver us to our starting point aboard Bombay, his thirty four foot sloop. Not only that, he would periodically check-in along the way and pick us up at our finishing point on the Baja coast. Dan and I felt much better about our chances for success with Oscar on-board. We loaded up our kayaks, strapped them to the foredeck of the boat, and set sail for Bahia Kino sixty miles up the coast. An overnight voyage brought us to this picturesque beach town and the starting point for the crossing.

The remote central section of the Sea of Cortez contains the Midriff Island group. A chain of three uninhabited islands; Tiburon, San Esteban, and San Lorenzo are fairly evenly spaced and provided a logical crossing route. Each day we traversed a wide channel to the next landmass. It felt like we had the whole region to ourselves. In the four days of paddling we saw no other kayaks and only a handful of pangas, the small open boats used by local fishermen.

This path to the Baja Peninsula covers seventy four miles if measured point to point. The reality is that the combined effects of wind and current can easily add another twenty miles of paddling to the total. Tidal information for this region is very unreliable. The huge eddies created by the islands result in tide flows that are sometimes just the opposite of what is expected. In fact, the Spanish explorers named one of the nearby channels Salsipuedes (leave if you can) because of its difficult and powerful tides. Weather information is sparse in the Midriff region. There is a morning broadcast on short-wave radio but it’s only good for general weather trends. Our route’s daily channel crossings, which ranged from fourteen to twenty two miles, left us vulnerable to the region’s unpredictable conditions.

We were adrift off Punta Ignacio at the north end of Kino Bay in rolling two foot swells when Dan and I lowered our kayaks off Bombay. We discussed the start of the journey as we settled into our boats. A decision was made to head to shore, tap our paddles on a rock outcrop, then turn and head-off toward Tiburon Island. This symbolic gesture marked the beginning of four incredible days of challenge and discovery. It also welled up strong feelings of anxiety and anticipation. We both knew there would be difficulties ahead, but just how bad could it get? I had visions of kayak swallowing tidal maelstroms, shark encounters, and gale-force Chubasco winds and their accompanying huge, breaking waves. This uneasiness slowly subsided as I settled in and began concentrating on my paddling rhythm and efficiency.

The eighteen mile crossing to Dog Bay on Tiburon Island started off well enough with gently rolling seas and light wind. The first thing I noticed was the increased stability that resulted from a fully loaded kayak. We both had food, water and equipment to survive independently for a week. All this cargo provided about sixty pounds of ballast. The second thing I noticed was the increased effort it took to move all this weight through the water. I knew it would require somewhere around one hundred thousand paddle strokes to reach our ultimate destination on the Baja coast. Efficiency had to be a key component in our strategy.

Paddling in the open sea was a new experience for us. Up to this point, we had kayaked mostly on rivers and lakes or along protected coasts. During the Midriff crossing we experienced a variety of conditions. We paddled everything from the smooth, silky, gently rolling surface along the protected north shore of San Esteban Island, to the six foot wind driven breaking waves on our way to Dog Bay. These are the “white horses” sailors talk about. The troughs were so deep that Dan and I would completely lose sight of each other when a swell came between us. With these random breaking waves all around, I knew it was just a matter of time before my number was up. Then it happened. A large wave approaching from the port side just seemed to stand up, the face getting wider and steeper. By the time it reached me it had become a vertical wall looming well above my head. I responded by quickly driving my paddle blade into the face of the wave and pulling through with a solid powerful stroke. This maneuver provided stability as the crest of the wave crashed down. I was wet, but very pleased with the overall outcome. I felt completely stable throughout the dousing. The earlier uneasiness of coping with these large waves evolved into shouts of joy as Dan and I rode up and down the swells. We had become completely comfortable in these seemingly inhospitable conditions. Much of the credit goes to the design of our Prijon kayaks. They were developed for these situations and were performing flawlessly.

The GPS informed us that, even in the rough seas, we were traveling at over two and one half knots. Sure, we were putting forth considerable effort, but we also carefully managed our energy levels. We stayed hydrated and munched on energy bars whenever our strength began to ebb. Steady progress was being made toward Dog Bay and our rendezvous with Bombay.

Communicating over the VHF radio required that we name our kayaks. Dan’s red Kodiak became “Redbeard” and my white Seayak I christened “Whitebeard”. As we approached Isla Tiburon the radio crackled to life. “Redbeard Redbeard this is Bombay, over.” Dan answered and found that Oscar was comfortably at anchor in the protected waters of Dog Bay. He was also preparing our dinner and had just cracked open a bottle of Cabernet. This level of service was way beyond our expectations! Later, aboard Bombay, we discussed the day’s events with Oscar as we sipped wine and re-fueled on carne asada. We had paddled just over eighteen miles in seven and one half hours. So far so good I thought. But I was secretly hoping for easier days ahead. I was just not sure I could keep up this pace for the rest of the crossing.

One of the most interesting aspects of our journey was the frequent interaction we had with marine life. Every day we were captivated by one or more encounters. Maybe the most poetic was when I crossed paths with a black shark. We had just left the shoreline of Tiburon Island and entered the San Esteban channel when I noticed a tail and dorsal fin wallowing back and forth in the water in front of my kayak. I was able to get a close up view as it slowly passed right in front of my boat. The shark was only about four feet long, but I could not help wondering how many relatives it had in the area. After all, we had just left the shore of Isla Tiburon (Shark Island). As it turned out, this was the only shark sighting we had during the entire crossing.

The channel between Tiburon and San Esteban provided more entertainment from the locals. About half way across, almost ten miles from either shore, a feeling of isolation settled in. We stopped briefly to discuss how we would address a problematic tidal current when we heard splashing and saw a few dolphins coming toward us. They appeared to be on a mission. Swimming incredibly fast, they would jump completely out of the water flying through the air in a low arc. They all traveled the same direction and speed as they continued on their way. Incredibly, within a minute, we were surrounded by nearly a hundred. The huge group split as they approached us and rejoined after passing, keeping a distance of about twenty feet. Interestingly, they paid little or no attention to us. They never slowed to get a better look or showed any curiosity. It was like being in the middle of a stampede but instead of some exotic herd in the Serengeti kicking up dust, we had dolphins kicking up ocean spray.

Later that day, I hiked up from our camp on San Esteban Island to a ridge with an incredible view of the channel we had just crossed. We paddled over twenty two miles that day. The first four were along the south shore of Tiburon Island. The highest peaks on the distant island appeared on the horizon and the vast expanse of the channel was spread out before me. As I was retracing our path I noticed what seemed to be waves appearing and subsiding in a large portion of channel to the north of our route. The sight struck me as odd. The waves just didn’t look right. They were random like raindrops on the smooth surface of a pond, but strangely unlike anything I had ever seen. Then it all quickly made sense. I was able to make out the silhouette of one of the “waves” in the foreground. It was a dolphin, jumping completely out of the water, exactly like those we had seen up close earlier in the day! My gaze continued into the distance, as I tried to comprehend what I was seeing. There were hundreds and hundreds of dolphin migrating south, appearing and disappearing as they launched up and dove back into the sea.

I was astounded by the marine life this environment manages to support after many years of commercial fishing. Sea Watch, an organization dedicated to the protection of the Sea of Cortez, claims that this sea is “at least ninety percent depleted”. Imagine these waters four hundred years ago during the era of Spanish exploration. In the days before shrimp fleets, gill nets, long-line fishing and fish traps. Both the diversity and quantity of sea life must have been incredible. Even in a marine environment under assault, we had encounters with seals and sea lions, pelicans, manta rays, yellow fin tuna, and of course the dolphins and finback whales. All were unforgettable experiences.

The greatest challenge Dan and I faced during the Cortez crossing took place after witnessing the dolphins. Our GPS units were indicating a wide discrepancy between our heading and bearing. In other words, our boats were pointing toward our destination but we were tracking far to the north. We made regular adjustments to our heading in an effort to make landfall on the south east coast of San Esteban Island. Unfortunately, each incremental change we made was negated by increased current and wind. The closer we approached, the harder we paddled, and the more powerful the elements became. This situation continued for several miles until I began to doubt that we would be able to hit the small island at all. I became concerned that the tide flow and wind might carry us into the open sea north of the Midriffs!

The radio came to life again. Oscar informed us that he was in a tenuous anchorage on the south east coast of San Esteban. He was worried that if the winds continued to increase, he would need to bail out and sail to the nearest safe anchorage. The problem being, that anchorage was on the Baja coast over thirty miles away. We radioed back that we would be trying to make landfall on the north east shore about two miles from him. We would attempt to rendezvous later when conditions improved.

Paddling those last couple of miles to San Esteban took incredible effort. It was like being on a liquid treadmill. It took all my energy to get the GPS to read one and a half knots. I was paddling almost parallel to the shoreline, but I had to or face the prospect of being carried far north of the island. I put my head down and sprinted the last few hundred yards to a small protected cove on the north east shore. Totally exhausted, I looked back to see how Dan was doing. He was gone! I had told myself before we began this trip that above all, make sure we stay together. I looked again and finally spotted his paddle blades out on the horizon bobbing up and down in perfect rhythm. He appeared to be ok, but I had serious doubts that he could make landfall where I was. Without hesitation I left the sanctuary of the cove and paddled downwind to meet up with him.

It took no time to reach Dan with the push from wind and current. He was in good shape, making slow but steady progress. From this new perspective farther north in the channel we could see a fairly large protected bay on the north shore. We decided to abandon our planned landing and head straight west then turn south when we reached the calmer waters on the north side of the Island. This strategy worked perfectly. After less than thirty minutes of paddling we glided up to the beach, hauled out the kayaks, and picked out a comfortable camping spot in the shade of a giant cordon cactus. According to GPS we covered over twenty miles. I was feeling like I had paddled double that.

Once again the radio came to life. Oscar was calling as he rounded the point on the east side of the bay. He had been blown out of his anchorage and was being forced to head to the Baja. We let him know we were in good shape and wished him well on his evening sail to Bahia San Francisquito.

Long distance paddling like this has a lot in common with other activities that require a high level of endurance. It is paramount that a sustainable pace be set. Dan and I both have had experiences over the years that taught us to closely monitor our energy reserves. Eventually you learn there is a line that you must not cross because if you go beyond that point, your power and endurance decrease dramatically. In this situation it could have become a truly serious matter. I was not surprised that Dan was just fine when we reunited. He knew how hard to push and was setting a pace that he could maintain.

It turned out that my hope for easier paddling conditions was not to be realized until the second half of the trip. Our final two open water crossings of the San Lorenzo Channel and the Channel of the Ballenas were relatively easy. Distances were still substantial but calmer seas and slack tides made a huge difference. The steady rhythmic paddling, mile after mile, was almost a trance inducing experience. It was very peaceful, like a slow steady migration. By the fourth day, both mind and body had fully adapted to the routine. It felt like I had struck a chord with some nomadic experience deep rooted in my ancestry.

Oscar paid us a brief visit shortly after we made landfall on San Lorenzo Island. There were no anchorages on the island so the only option was a “drive-by”. He sailed up to within a hundred yards of shore and radioed in to ask if we needed anything. Dan and I looked at each other and smiled. We knew there were ample supplies in Bombay’s galley. “How about an ice cold six pack of Modelo Especial?” I asked. “No problem” was the reply. I paddled out and made what Dan called “a beer run for the ages”. The cerveza didn’t have a chance to get warm as we sat on the beach and watched Bombay glide silently away toward Bahia San Francisquito.

As broad as the crossing route was, it was also very deep in spots. The last channel we paddled, between San Lorenzo Island and Bahia San Francisquito on the Baja, was the deepest. About one third of the way across, near where we encountered the whales, the depth exceeded five thousand feet. I joked with Dan that “This would be a bad place to drop the car keys!” These depths, combined with the strong tidal currents provide the perfect habitat for the krill that whales feed on. Hence the area’s Spanish name Canal de las Ballenas (Channel of the Whales).

This final day of paddling presented us with the short fourteen mile crossing to the Baja coast and the end of our kayaking journey. It was a day that rewarded us with perfect weather, whales and slack tides. At the mouth of Bahia San Francisquito as we negotiated a short section of choppy water Dan and I heard a huge splash behind us. We quickly turned around and saw the last moments of a whale breaching one hundred yards behind us. How perfect that at the end of our journey, we were rewarded with a farewell gesture like this. The last mile brought us into the bay, past Oscar’s anchorage and finally to calm waters near a small cobblestone beach. We paddled up, hauled out our boats, and briefly celebrated our success. Afterward, I silently gazed back across the sea, replaying the trip in my mind. It was a sublime moment filled with deep satisfaction but it also had an underlying note of melancholy that I did not expect. This came from knowing that I would soon be returning to a life in Colorado far away from the marine environment that I had quickly become so intimate with. Away from the challenges and discoveries the sea offered. I felt so alive during those four days. The journey raised my level of awareness and sharpened my senses. I just wanted to keep paddling!