Barra Navidad and Acapulco

We're getting ready to depart Acapulco this morning. This post will be a rush job. JUMBLE's next destination is Huatulco to wait for favorable winds to cross the infamous Gulf of Tehuantepec. Our next post should be in 1 - 2 weeks in Puerto Chiapas, on the Guatemalan border.

JUMBLE left Tenacatita on 1/16/15 for a daysail of about 10 NM down to Barra Navidad with our anchorage neighbors on LUNGTA. Barra has a very sheltered, but shallow (5'-15') lagoon behind the town. This offered us a chance to spend a few more days relaxing, telling tales and playing Scrabble before parting ways with our friends on LUNGTA. We filled up on water and groceries in town. There is an honest-to-god French baker in Barra and he deliver bread and pastries to your boat. The best bread we've had in Mexico, where baguettes and sourdough just haven't caught on.

Las Iglesias

Ketch LUNGTA

Approach to Barra Navidad

Mixing of the waters at the harbor entrance

Town lagoon to the north

Barra Navidad to Acapulco

1/19/15 - 1/23/15
320 NM
90 Hours; 22 Hours on motor

JUMBLE departed Barra Navidad on 1/19/15 bound for Zihautanejo. We had made precious little progress south since leaving La Cruz. Most cruisers take their time and enjoy the many anchorages and towns along the 'Gold Coast' of mainland Mexico, but that wasn't our plan and we were itching to make some miles. The second day out, we decided to head for Acapulco instead.

Winds were light and variable, as expected, and the sea very calm. We averaged less than 3 knots under sail, but enjoyed a favorable current and motored for a few hours in the wee hours of the mornings, when it was 'cool' (80 degrees). Our biggest hazard was ship traffic. There was light traffic around Manzanillo, but the deep-water port of Lazaro Cardenas kept us on our toes for two nights. There were at least two freighters in sight on every watch and we had to make a major course change once (jibe the boat). It wasn't a close-call, we still had a mile or so between us. However, it was a moonless night, we couldn't figure out what he was doing and I doubt he saw us. We lost that game of chicken.

Navy vessel outside Manzanillo

Morning motoring

Freighter

Sunrise over water, a new thing for us

We didn't expect much from Acapulco, figuring it would be Cabo San Lucas x10. We were pleasantly surprised. It's the first (and only) major Mexican city we've visited. I can understand why many cruisers give it a pass. Finding a place to dock in the crowded harbor was a bit challenging. After we were chased off the dock at La Marina Acapulco (we're not the right sort of people), we found more welcoming accommodations at the Marina Santa Lucia. Med-mooring was challenging: JUMBLE won't back up in a straight line (full keel) and our windvane on the stern is very vulnerable to damage. We'll have to get used to this as we're heading for the Med someday.

The staff, particularly Santiago and Abel, is great. Also, an immigration official came down to the marina (immigration wasn't necessary as we've checked in already) and took the time to explain the fee structure and how to go about checking out of Mexico in Puerto Chiapas. We had experienced some unnecessary charges, outright graft, in San Jose del Cabo. Some transparency was much appreciated.

With Santiago's local knowledge and car, we found epoxy, fiberglass and paint supplies, plus the usual groceries and water. All done in a day versus the several days of bus rides, dinghy landings and water lugging we're accustomed to. The majority of boats in Acapulco are powerboats, but there are a good number of sailboats, especially at the yacht club and there was a race this weekend. Very different vibe from the other towns we've visited.

The dark side, which I didn't recognize until my first day out in town, is that Acapulco is going through a very rough period in terms of crime. As of 2014, it has the highest murder rate in Mexico. The sheer volume of heavily armed police on the streets was the tip off. We regret not learning more Spanish before this trip. There are many conversations we'd like to have, but we're hamstrung by our toddler Spanish skills. Next time.

Santiago gave us some fishing tips and a new lure. Abel and I made a gaff from some rebar and a shovel handle. Maybe our luck with the fishing will improve.

Neat-o

JUMBLE's First Med-Moor

Second day of Racing

Anna and the Gaff: "Un Recuerdo de Mexico"

Until next time

Tenacatita Part 2: Play

1/7/15 - 1/16/15

We didn't finish with the boom until the 14th or so, but once it was glued up straight, the challenging work was over. We spent several late evenings navel gazing and having great conversations with Dan and Kathy on LUNGTA, a 60' Ketch with a spacious interior and comfortable saloon. Well after midnight, we'd paddle back to JUMBLE, clip the dinghy onto the stern and watch the stars move across the sky for a couple hours. Without much light pollution and few clouds, our view of the night sky in Tenacatita was great.

View from the Lagoon entrance. Can you spot Jumble?

Lots of books and magazines sell cruising as a romantic paradise; a long vacation. Maybe this is true for the wealthy. I'll never know. For us and I suspect many others it's not much different in practice than life back home. Much of your time is spent working. Maintaining a boat in remote areas and in anchorages is more difficult than back home where the chandler is a short drive away. Also, your boat is used much harder and covers significantly more miles. Even at anchor, there's constant motion. Few anchorages are as mill pond flat as a protected marina in southern California.

It's true that you can cruise on very little money. I'll spare you the details of our financials, but suffice to say, they are abysmal; however: no debt! Not everyone can say that. Few cruising boats are on as low of a budget as JUMBLE, but we hardly feel destitute. There are no free lunches in this world and we put in a heavy sweat equity to offset our lack of capital.

Sterling Hayden (actor; we recognize him from Doctor Strangelove) wrote a pretty kickass book: Wanderer. Not your standard cruising narrative, which is no better than this blog, but a real novel with some great insights into life and sailing. Here's my favorite passage, I know I'm not the first sailor to quote it:

To be truly challenging, a voyage, like a life, must rest on a firm foundation of financial unrest. Otherwise, you are doomed to a routine traverse, the kind known to yachtsmen who play with their boats at sea... "cruising" it is called. Voyaging belongs to seamen, and to the wanderers of the world who cannot, or will not, fit in. If you are contemplating a voyage and you have the means, abandon the venture until your fortunes change. Only then will you know what the sea is all about.

"I've always wanted to sail to the South Seas, but I can't afford it." What these men can't afford is not to go. They are enmeshed in the cancerous discipline of "security." And in the worship of security we fling our lives beneath the wheels of routine - and before we know it our lives are gone.

What does a man need - really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down in - and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That's all - in the material sense, and we know it. But we are brainwashed by our economic system until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention for the sheer idiocy of the charade.

The years thunder by. The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed.

Where, then, lies the answer? In choice. Which shall it be: bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life?

This passage played a large part in our choice of "Jumble Ventures", rather than "Cruising with Jumble" or something like that.

These pictures don't show the mosquito bites, the heat, the lugging of water jugs, strange rashes in private places and all the other discomforts. I'm not trying to say it's not worth it, just the opposite. It's pretty childish to seek constant happiness or "paradise", which is what the advertisers like to sell. Adventure, on the other hand, can be satisfying as hell.

Enough puerile philosophizing. I just wanted to preface this slew of images from the picturesque lagoon at Tenacatita with a little honesty.

We begin our journey upriver (not really a river) here

The Fauna

The Lagoon starts wide

Anna is excited

The mangroves close in

Murky, stinky water

CRAB PEOPLE

Out of clever captions

"Don't poke a hole in the dinghy!"

Almost through

Abandoned Palapas on the other end

Not OSHA approved

We were told this was a happening place before a land dispute

Who's this jerk?

End of the line

We were too chickshit to try this channel, pretty tight

Some reflection shots

Next up, Barra Navidad and Acapulco

Tenacatita Part 1: Work

1/6/15 - 1/7/15

110 NM, 10 hours on motor

JUMBLE departed Yelapa in flat, glassy seas. It was a very tropical scene as Anna and I deflated the dinghy and stuffed it into the cockpit locker. The elation of our little dip in a shady pool above a picturesque waterfall faded fast as the sun blasted us into submission. 2 PM in not the best time to be in full sun in the tropics; steam rose off the jungle. I'd only seen that in movies. It was &%^ing hot!

We motored towards Cabo Corrientes, ready to make a left turn and finally escape the vortex that is Banderas Bay. Lots of cruisers come to Bahía de Banderas and some never leave. The local VHF forecaster, from North Sails I think, had warned of northerlies from the Sea of Cortez and possible rough conditions around Cabo Corrientes. Winds and seas are often amplified off points, so most sailors exercise caution when rounding them. The crew of JUMBLE was feeling rather invincible and eager to see some action, so we hoped for big wind and a fun ride.

Calm Seas Inside the Bay; The Trap is set

I mentioned something a couple posts ago about the arrogance of youth. This was in full effect aboard JUMBLE.

As we approached the cape and were no longer in the lee of Punta Mita, the seas rose to 4'-5', quite small, but more than we'd seen since coming down the coast of Baja. Naturally, we were carrying full sails: 170% jib, full main and mizzen. Once outside the lee of Punta Mita, the wind rose to 15 knots out of the NNW and we were reaching, heading WSW. It felt great, JUMBLE was hauling ass and the wind had a dry, dusty smell, refreshing after that tropical interlude.

Before we could settle into the new conditions, the wind was hitting 20 knots and becoming gusty. JUMBLE is a slow boat, but incredibly forgiving. We've never dipped our leeward toerail and not for lack of trying. I went forward to reef the main and Anna was pulling the working jib out of the hatch. I was amidships, gripping the windward shrouds and staring at the mainsail like an asshole when the boom snapped at the vang and bent upwards about 20 degrees. The main started luffing and I said, "We broke the boom"

Anna shouted forward from the cockpit, "Let's start the motor!"
"What do we need the motor for? We're already doing 6 knots."

We worked to get the mainsail down without breaking anything else. The stainless steel sail track was the only thing holding the boom and all its expensive parts together. It was like a broken arm: floppy, but still attached. Anna luffed the main enough to get it down, still driving off the jib and mizzen. At this point, we were in beam seas and the boom was sliding and skating all over the cabintop and solar panels as short, steep wind waves passed under JUMBLE. After settling into a broad reach, things settled down. We engaged our trusty Sailomat windvane and labored together to remove the mainsail. The sail track was kinked around the breaking point and I had to cut the track with a hacksaw to remove all the slides. We stowed the mainsail on the cabin sole and the detached portion of the boom on the port deck.

At this point, we were happy to be a ketch. Jumble still had two sails left in play. The main boom broke around 1800 and we managed to sort that out and switch to the working jib before nightfall.

The wind rose during the night, maybe point effect or general norther, I don't know. By 0000 we were down to the working jib (no mizzen) and sliding downwind at 6-8 knots. The seas never reached more than 8' (a guess given that it was night), but there were at least 2, possibly three directions. The main train was NW, on the starboard quarter, there was an occasional W swell and, as the evening progressed and the wind came more off the land south of Corrientes, a choppy NE set of wind waves. Even running downwind, JUMBLE's rigging hummed and howled, especially in the gusts. Pretty cool.

This is what happens when we take pictures at night

It was an eventful night, but our boom broke and that was a major bummer. Truth be told, it didn't break because of big wind or seas. What we experienced was a brief period of point effect and a northerly wind blowing down along the coast of Mexico. My guess is that between 2300 and 0100, we had 30 knots, gusting to 35, but no more. The seas were confused and a bit choppy, but we didn't take any water in the cockpit. We came close when a NW and NE wave came together jut a few feet off our stern, but it would have only been a splash, nothing serious.

By the early morning hours, the wind had blown itself out and by 0700 we were motoring and starting on the repairs.

The Boom Stump

The Work Begins

The boom broke because of bad practice. To add insult to injury, we'd discussed the inadequacy of our preventer arrangement back in 2012 on the Baja Ha-Ha. We knew that what we were doing put enormous strain on the boom, in a weak area. A previous owner had either moved or replaced the original vang fitting. I knew this because I'd removed and re-bedded the vang attachment piece shortly after we bought JUMBLE. There were old screw holes filled half-assedly with 4200 or similar. The boom broke cleanly along the forward line of fastener holes, new and old.

Why had we been so foolish? It was easy! And it worked. Our vang protected us from an accidental jibe and it was easy to set up. We were inducing an enormous moment arm on the boom by essentially using the vang as our mainsheet. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Approach to Tenacatita. Lousy Picture

So, some anonymous guru once said: "cruising is working on your boat in exotic locations". Very true. Luckily, there's at least once idiot aboard JUMBLE who enjoys working on his boat as much as sailing it.

Assessing the Damage: Clean Break

Scarfs Cut and Ready to Laminate

Final Glue up; Second piece took two attempts (days) to get it straight

Patch Sanded and Ready for Glass

Two Wraps of Glass Around Repair

Filler Goop for Sanding/Fairing. Our buddy LUNGTA in the Background

The major work took four days. The last three days were just some rigging and a lousy paint job (that's already failing around the spectra strops). Mosquitoes ate us alive the first couple of nights. We eventually set up some screens over the hatches as it's much too warm here to close them. Silvia from IOLANI was kind enough to give us some DEET. Dengue Fever is no joke and we know at least one cruiser who's had it, so we're being cautious.

Old Boom Arrangement

New Boom. Note the huge lever arm between the clew and vang

With the work completed, we were finally able to have a little fun. More on that to come.

Overnight in Yelapa

1/5/15 - 1/6/15

La Cruz to Yelapa, ~12 NM

Left early afternoon with a nice strong wind on the north side of the bay, 15-20 knots from the NNE. Around the center of the bay, the breeze softened significantly and shifted eventually to the SE and S. During the last hour or so, we mixed motoring and trying to sail in order to make Yelapa before nightfall.

Anna botched the marina exit by getting our windvane's control lines tangled around the electronic autopilot's control bolt, locking the wheel in place. Of course, we didn't realize this until after we were off the dock and reversing away from our slipmate. There had been previous discussions about the stowage of these lines and, suffice to say, it became a very sore subject during that incident.

We avoided any contact with other boats or the dock, but the autopilot was damaged in the struggle and spilled its 21 ball bearings into the cockpit. We quickly covered the cockpit drains with tape, so we didn't lose any. Meanwhile, Anna took us over to the fuel dock and took care of our first real diesel fill since San Diego. At this point, we weren't on speaking terms, and I threw myself into fixing the autopilot and damaged wooden steering box (the control bolt split the wood in the chaos).

Steering Situation, Post-Repair

Only Permanent Damage: We'll fair and paint mañana

It took about three hours to get everything back together. The slight rolling of a quartering sea wasn't helpful, but with a lot of masking tape and swearing, I managed to get all the bearings placed in their plastic retainers (there are three with seven bearings each on the SPX5) and the wheel assembly snapped back together. Before we got to Yelapa, we'd taken the wheel off (Anna was able to steer just holding the shaft) and reassembled the vane's drum, autopilot and glued/screwed a backing block for the steering box. We needed to clean the interior of the pilot anyway. Combined with a thorough greasing of the worm drive and cleaning of hard growth between the rudder and keel in Punta Mita, JUMBLE's steering is now smooth as ever.

Luckily, I had done this same job once before for Sean and Steve on TABLETALK, back in San Diego. That job took significantly more time and in a stable, shop environment. This incident illustrates how useful it is to be intimate with all of your boat's equipment. Knowing how many bearings you have to collect from your cockpit grate and storage boxes and how everything fits together without the manual or a diagram is a blessing. I'm not suggesting that cruisers disassemble their equipment just to put it back together, but if something breaks and you fix it yourself, you gain familiarity with the how it all goes together and the next failure isn't nearly as onerous. If we'd had to buy a new wheel/motor assembly, it would have set us back many hundreds of dollars and weeks worth of cruising time. There are no West Marines in Mexico and boating gear, except for fishing gear, has been very hard to come by. We haven't tried importing parts, but from what I'm told, it's a major pain and charges are high.

Enough technobabble!

Yelapa was a relaxing time, we picked up some moorings, for a steep $200 pesos each. Yelapa is a very marginal anchorage, open to the prevailing NW wind. Otherwise, I'm sure it would be crawling with sailors. The bay is very steep and deep in the center. There is a narrow shelf, very close to the beach, where you can anchor in 50 feet or so. There's another area off the town where it's 80' less than 100 yards off the shore. We sounded one area less than 30'. It was marginal: close to some rocks and a fixed concrete pier used for offloading pangas. In any case, all the decent anchoring areas were filled with moorings, apparently in an attempt to coax nervous cruisers to the area, much like Catalina Island back home. Dammit.

I'm whining again.

The night was a little rolly, not much worse than La Cruz. JUMBLE and TUMBLEWEED circled around their moorings until a good land-breeze filled in for the first half of the evening. Anna made some great personal pizzas. Dough from scratch, of course. The next morning, Wes and I got partially soaked landing our dinghy on the steep, gravely beach. Anna, with the backpack, jumped off the bow unscathed. We paddled in, rather than risk the outboard on such a short trip. The few folks hanging out on the beach at 10 am had some entertainment.

Beach Bar

River Behind the Bar

We landed at the far end of this beach

We all were eager to get moving by afternoon, so we agreed on a short hike to the smaller waterfall north of the village. A much grander waterfall is further inland along the river, a few miles inland. Our route took us through town, then past plenty of souvenir stalls on the route to the waterfall. It was pleasant and, I hate myself for using this word, quirky. Aside from a couple fellas on the beach peddling pictures with large iguanas and marijuana, there wasn't much tourist hassling.

We arrived at the little waterfall after a languid stroll. 30-40 minutes? Pretty cool, especially for us desert dwellers. I think the last waterfall we saw was along the Columbia River 5 or 6 years ago. Sadly, we weren't the first or only ones there. Wes had the right idea and asked one of the locals in attendance how to get to the pool atop the falls and we struck out into the jungle. Predator, with our beloved governator, was filmed nearby and the larger waterfall to the west was apparently featured in the movie. Real adventurous stuff, ya know.

After a couple false starts, we found the trail, by following the town's haphazard HDPE water supply pipes. Whole bundles, tied to trees and strung over canyons, led us further up towards the pool.

Our favorite shot of the trip

After a short, not too strenuous hike (in flip flops, of course), we reached a sweet, natural infinity pool atop the falls and enjoyed our first swim in fresh water. The bottom was 4-5' deep, deeper upstream, clean sand and very little muck or slime. Neat-o.

Looking back down

The yellow thing is one of many plastic water pipes that supply the town

On the way back, some locals had opened up the beach berm to drain the river and we waded knee to thigh deep in some fast water. Pretty fun actually. A small dog jumped in a got washed out into the bay, but he just swam back in, completely undisturbed. The gravel beach was perfect for grinding all the dogshit out of the siping in our sandals. Dogshit was a major hazard in the Banderas Bay region. Lots of dogs and, at least in La Cruz, a fair amount of fleas. We managed our beach launch with no casualties.

With a somewhat sketchy forecast of Northers from the Sea of Cortez, we headed for Cabo Corrientes in flat calm as Wes sailed for Punta Mita for some surf. The crew of JUMBLE had no conception of the rugged, troubled seas that lay ahead :)

Tune in next time for chilling tales of high adventure and anxiety aboard our intrepid little vessel!

Wes slips his mooring. Adios amigo