The Bash to Panama City

This post begins the slide of Jumble Ventures into disorganization and sentimentality. Any readers without the stomach for such nonsense had better steer clear.

JUMBLE and her crew made it into the La Playita anchorage of Panama City on March 12th, having left Puerto Chiapas, Mexico on February 18th with the intent of making a non-stop passage of approximately two weeks. Like all cruising plans, these were written on the beach at low tide and things didn't work out as planned.

Village in Bahia de Jiquilisco

Crossing the bar behind PELAGIC

After our little bash off Guatemala, we had a clear weather window for Nicaragua and the Gulf of Papagayo and didn't see anything more than Force 5. The Papagayo winds are funny: they're initially on the nose, as you parallel the coast, then they're on the beam and finally you get a short run at the end.

Anna and entourage

Hot weather rig: give up some speed for shade

In Costa Rica we experienced the calmest seas we've ever seen on what was, technically speaking, the ocean. Groundswell barely noticeable, winds less than 5 knots and water temperatures in the low 80s. We stopped one night in Drake's Bay and had some gallo pinto and threw our last $USD at some diesel. No sailing to be had in Costa Rica; not without the patience of a saint.

Truly, the Pacific Ocean

Super Swank Resort in Drake's Bay

JUMBLE alone, except local pangas

Tree, of some sort

Rain?

Panama became a shitshow past Islas Ladrones. We had force 6-7 for a few hours in the morning, then less than 5 knots in the late morning/afternoon, only to get smacked with force 5-6 in the evening around Isla de Coiba. JUMBLE had some charging runs and got to try a few sail combinations for stronger winds. We had a brief pause in the wee hours of the morning rounding Punta Mariato. Lucky for you, there are no pictures of that night watch. Conditions and wind directions were variable and we were too close to land to put trust in either self-steering system, so I hand steered the 1 to 4 am watch naked in order to keep my clothes dry and salt free. 80+ degree water and air temps make clothes a formality. The spinnaker made a nice bean bag chair in the cockpit footwell, so I kept out of the spray and wind.

Upwind/Downwind off Ladrones

Coiba, boring pic

The 15 or so mile approach to Morro de Puercos kicked the shit out of JUMBLE. I really felt for our plucky little boat. We spent several hours just holding position with motor and bare poles in what I can guess was a gusty force 8 or more. I know this sounds absurd and I had a hard time believing it myself. Still, the double reefed main looked ready to pull away from the mast. The top sail slide eventually ripped its webbing later in the day after we'd resumed sailing. Just for shits, we tried lying a'hull, just to see how it felt. There was no threat of capsize given the small wave heights. With the sort of winds we were experiencing, lying a'hull was actually pretty comfortable, but our drift of 1.5 knots would have quickly taken us away from the shelter of a weather shore and our destination. The trade/offshore winds were really howling and we only made Benao cove late that night as the winds moderated to force 5-6 past Morro de Puercos.

Early morning break

Upwind/Downwind Morro de Puercos

Benao at low tide, long dinghy drag

After a couple days of rest/repair we set out for Punta Mala ('mala' means 'bad' in Spanish) with a small craft advisory in the forecast, force 6-7. For those of you without knowledge of sailing and the 'point effect', know that a cape or point generally increases the local wind strength and JUMBLE is most definitely classified as a 'small craft'. Not the correct decision, but we were on a schedule and hadn't been beaten. Not yet anyway.

Well, I'd like to think it wasn't the wind strength that beat us, but the current. There's a wicked 1.5-2 knot current setting south right off Punta Mala. In other words: directly against us. A colorful local in Benao told us the current ran 5-6 knots sometimes, but this is sailor's exaggeration. We charged Punta Mala under double reefed main (the new standard set) and 85% jib, luffing in the gusts, making 6-7 knots to the east in a NNE force 7. Once we cleared the potato patch off the point, the wind moderated to force 5-6 and we set the mizzen. The waves cleaned up a bit as well. We then spent 10 or so hours tacking back and forth with that goddamned current and managed to make only 2 miles to windward! For various reasons, mostly provisions and single-minded determination, we were unwillingly to shoot over to Las Perlas islands, which was a course we couldn't lay direct anyway. Finally, we threw in the towel that evening and ran back to Benao with our tail between our legs.

Rage and self-loathing accompanied this decision. Other than the usual salt sores, sodden bedding and lost hawsepipe cap, no real damage had been done except to our (mostly my) pride. This was the first time we ever turned back. Sure, we had made unscheduled stops, but that's not the same thing. Not only did this mean we couldn't hack the conditions, but that the choice to put to sea had been in error. This also marked the first time that it wasn't so much the crew as it was JUMBLE that wasn't up to the conditions. JUMBLE is a tubby little ketch, not suited to making miles dead to weather in an adverse current and moderate seas. Previously, it had always been the crew, our weak morale and stomachs, that let us down. This time it was just the futility of trying to force JUMBLE against the prevailing conditions.

Morale was high on the first attempt

Upwind south of Punta Mala

Lesson learned: get a bigger, faster, more expensive boat. Subscribe to more yachting magazines.

Just kidding.

So we waited a few more days for better weather and had an epic struggle to wrest money from our dinky credit union in middle-of-fucking-nowhere Panama on a Sunday. We made a few repairs and had a drunken evening with some surfers who helped us get fuel and water. With a clear forecast, all was well until I discovered the seawater pump on the engine had a failing water seal. Not exactly a bullet in the head, but worrisome as we were planning on motoring the last 100 miles in calm weather. This is a spare part I think most boats should carry, but in the rush and budget to leave we didn't buy a spare pump. If the failure progresses too far it means salt water in your engine's oil. Serious shit. We cleaned the heat exchanger and checked all inlets and outlets of the raw water system, as 700 hours seems awfully soon for such a pump to fail. We checked the oil every three hours during the end run.

Mellow Mala on the second attempt

Pacific Anchorage, super cool views

More Pacific Anchorage

More Pacific Anchorage

More Pacific Anchorage

Our gamble paid off and we made Panama City the morning after our friends flew in from Boston. We drank our last gift booze: champagne from FREE LUFF. The plan was to save it for getting through the canal, but hell.

La Playita de Amador

More info about our first week in Panama to come.

Puerto Chiapas to Bahia de Jiquilisco

2/18/15 – 2/21/15

260 NM

We left Chiapas around 1400 and had a very ordinary first 24 hours. Minor teething issues from being in a marina for two weeks were quickly rectified. The 19^th being my birthday, Anna made a nice dinner and we shared the last two beers around 2000. We don't drink on passages, but made an exception this evening. Little did we know what was in store for us.

JUMBLE was running 25 NM off shore, near the border of Guatemala and El Salvador. The offshore breeze started slightly earlier than usual, filling in nicely at 10 knots from the N by 2030. We planned for a good night of sailing and discussed preparations for the Papagayo winds we were bound to encounter in a few days off Nicaragua and Costa Rica: stowage, securing deck gear and generally being prepared for a blow.

The offshore wind ramped up quickly after dinner. It hit 20 knots and we dropped the main, not expecting the wind to last. Within a few minutes, we realized that this was a mistake as the wind was reaching the high 20s and the waves suddenly got nasty with the bowsprit poking into the water and lots of spray. We had difficulty holding the bow into the waves with just the mizzen and it was a fight to douse the 170% genoa. We set the 105% and tried to continue on course, which was now a close reach, the wind coming from NNE and our course being generally E. The 105% isn't our best sail and the top was twisting off the the gusts. We set a double reefed main to get enough power to head upwind in these conditions. Once we had the main set, the 105% was too much as winds were reaching 30 knots and we considered the blade jib or storm jib, both much better sails. Given our proximity to a weather shore, we decided to douse mizzen and jib and motor sail NNW on a starboard tack towards shore and shelter. Our other option, certainly more comfortable, would have been to run off south or west, taking us away from our destination. The waves were steep, but only had 25 miles of fetch. On a starboard tack, our engine intake was solidly in the water and once near shore the waves would be much smaller. When we finally reached shore around 0300 or 0400, we spotted a cluster of shrimpers, lights burning bright, hugging the shore as well.

So from 1000 until the wee hours of the morning, JUMBLE motored into steep chop and took quite a beating. The autopilot repair held, and we were able to sit safely at the nav station with the lower hatchboard in and the canvas flap down over the companionway to keep out the spray. We took the top of one weird wave through the companionway, sideways. JUMBLE was tossed to 45 degrees a couple times and we had a few items come loose inside, but nothing too serious. We were only able to make 3 knots the first few hours, but once closer to shore the waves had less punch. The wind lost none of its ferocity near shore. We experienced our first gale at sea. Without instruments I can't be sure of the exact speed, but 35 knots at least. In the early morning, as we started to skirt the 60' contour near shore, the rig sang a tune I hadn't heard before, so I'm sure there were gusts above 40 knots. Mountains and volcanoes line the shore here and I suspect the norther was accelerated by these and in the canyons between them. There isn't as much weather recording in this part of the world, so we've only been able to confirm with one other sailboat further ahead of us who caught some action in the 30s and the locals here in El Salvador who told us a Frente Frio (Cold Front) passed through that night. Our forecast, less than 48 hours old, had called for light and variable less than 10!

Daybreak on the 20th

Only 1 or 2 miles off the beach

We took 1-2 hour watches from 1000 to 0800 the next morning, when things calmed down almost as quickly as they had started. The off watch took the bunk. On watch I took the floor or nav station, Anna favored the nav station. I had been slightly seasick before the wind started, maybe two weeks in a marina, but it didn't get much worse once it started blowing. The hilarious thing was remembering our first few Catalina trips, mild as they were, and how much sicker we both were then. Being a little sick at least gave me an incentive to go out into the cockpit and get soaked taking a look around. Not that it mattered as all the fishing traffic had already run for shore. I timed my lookouts to every two “incidents”, which I defined as 'prop leaving the water', 'wave breaking on hull' or 'boat stopped by wave'. All of these were distinct sounds so you could keep your eyes closed. This corresponded to about 15 minutes at first, but all these were gone near shore. Near shore we had to keep a close eye on the chart, GPS and depth sounder until daybreak. One funny thing: when we first got hammered, the depth sounder went crazy beeping and reseting itself continuously. It took us a moment to realize that it was because it was being lifted out of the water by the choppy waves. Probably a common occurrence, but the first time it's happened to us. 

All clear 

Things cleared quickly and it was a lovely, relaxing morning with a big breakfast and calm seas by 0900. Our overriding concern during the night was damaging gear, we never felt unsafe, just uncomfortable. The only casualty was one of our air-vanes for the self-steering, presumably lost over the side. It's something easy to fabricate, plus we have two others. If we'd stowed our deck gear properly, we wouldn't have lost it. Lesson learned.

Our plan was to make it all the way to Panama from Chiapas, but we didn't pack as much fuel as we should have and used more than expected the evening of the 19th. With the Papagayos blowing along Nicaragua (according to our bullshit forecast) and east swell to confirm it, we decided to moor at Barillas Marina in El Salvador on the morning of the 21^st. It's called a marina, but it's more of a resort with a mooring field deep inside a lagoon. You need a pilot to navigate the bar at the entrance. We have a guidebook, a few years old now, that has waypoints, but the bar has definitely moved since then, so we waited for a panga to come out and guide us in.

This post has already gone on too long and we need to depart early tomorrow morning for the tide, so I'll wrap things up, but this is a pretty nice place and very reasonably priced. One of those stops you're glad you stumbled upon and wish you could stay a little bit longer. We did get to rest up, do a little walking and enjoy some nice scenery. Maybe we'll come back for the volcanoes.

Crossing the bar

Lempa Shoals

Inside the Bahia de Jiquilisco

Dock and Moorings

Semi-Domestic Spider Monkeys on the Plantation

Tree o' Monkeys

The caged fellow quarrels with the Alpha

"How Cute!"

Alpha Female "Maria"

Little Gator

Croc' didn't show up in shot

View from a hammock

Horse Ranch, Polo field to right

Bananas

So we're bound for Panama on the 24th. If we make another unscheduled stop, hopefully it'll be as pleasant as this one.

Huatulco To Puerto Chiapas

1/31/15 – 2/3/15
250 NM

I'll make an effort not to ramble as much in this post. JUMBLE had a good, mostly uneventful crossing of the Gulf of Tehuantepec. We encountered some 20 knots winds a bit off the bow our first evening entering Salina Cruz, which hosts a large commercial shipping facility. There appeared to be fires on the hills behind the town, sort of BladeRunner-esque. I think these are the port's super-bright lights, but maybe there's a PEMEX refinery or something. With the offshore breeze, the smell was of smoke and dust, but not the usual smell of burning trash we've come to associate with populated areas in Mexico. Two large ships were anchored and another was moving at very low speed. Our charts show offshore lighted buoys/moorings, presumably for loading tankers. We passed very close by one that showed on our charts as a yellow flash, but I never spotted it.

The Shrimper Menace

Everyone hates Frigatebirds

An all too common sight along this coast

By the next morning it as calm and flat as we hugged the shore a few miles off just in case the wind decided to start howling. The only traffic was shrimpers, who seemed to be operating around the 100' contour, mostly. One sailboat passed a few miles to the south of us heading north in the afternoon. Around this time our Raymarine SPX5 wheelpilot, a product I cannot say enough bad things about, quit on us. When we're actually sailing, we use our Sailomat self-steering vane (a superior product), but for motoring we need the electronic autopilot. Hand-steering is anathema to us and I assume any other sane cruiser. Anyway, for the next 40 hours or so, we sailed whenever there was a enough wind for the vane to work and worked out a system to steer with the mizzen while motoring, although this required at least a puff of wind. We went over our weather window and got a little bit of Tehuantepec wind one evening, 25-30 knots and gusty, but only for a couple hours before sundown. Good sailing.

Spin Sheet on Genny for better lead downwind

The most we got from Tehuantepec

For Puerto Chiapas, I'll let the pictures do the talking. Helpful marina, but a very bad place to be stuck when you're broke as there's no anchoring. Raymarine puts a $5 brushed hobby motor, the kind you'd find in an cheap RC car, in their $1600 pilot. Raymarine will charge you $75 for a replacement with the little drive gear. They won't ship to Mexico. When we get back to the States I'd like to make a franken-system with higher quality drive components. There was nothing available locally. The motor's brushes had fallen out and the commutator was shredded. We found a small robot parts outfit in Colorado willing to deal with us. This is where we finally encountered the difficulty of getting things shipped to Mexico and we were not the only ones stuck in “parts purgatory”. The Marina has an address for shipping and allowed us to use their phone to make a few international calls, but it took about a week and a half for our little package to arrive. $12 for 2 motors, $67 for shipping. All told, JUMBLE had a much easier time than most, given the horror stories we heard. We now understand why many people structure their re-supplies around flights home or visits from friends.

Exotic fertilizer: less manure smelling, more stale coffee or fish

Side Channel towards Muelle de Pesca and the Marina

They're more impressive from a distance

It also made us consider how misleading it can be to think of cell phones (everyone in mexico seems to have one), internet and social networking as a sort of gateway for the developing world into the 21st century. Sure, it's a great thing and cell towers are easy to build and profitable. However, being able to find something on the internet and actually being able to access it through a reasonable supply train are totally different things. Talking to some of the locals it's often a case of either go without or have friends or family bring the items over the border themselves. The basic logistical and political problems can't be defeated by innovation alone.

Anyway, the crew of JUMBLE kept busy and enjoyed hot showers for 15 DAYS. A real hemorrhage of cash. We tackled numerous small projects that have been piling up:

-Comprehensive mosquito netting; compromise between ventilation and tightness
-Clean and lubricate all blocks, many had become 'talkative'
-Replace windvane drive lines with spectra for less stretch and friction
-Divide and hinge port bunk storage to eliminate toolbox on starboard
-Route main halyard to avoid chafe problems on spreader
-Run additional anchor chain into bilge instead of vee-berth; modify floorboards to allow access
-Inventory all lockers (only 1/3rd done)
-REPLACE AUTOPILOT MOTOR
-Cleaning, laundry and sundry

Anna is one cool cucumber. 50 mph in a pickup bed

Wine from CINNAMON and schnitzel

We lined the bottom with pieces of yoga mat

The gaff is JUMBLE's most popular perch

Right at the last minute, after the drug-sniffing dog came aboard and we had our Zarpe to exit the country, we met a Dutch cruiser, Ben, who shared GBs of e-charts with us. We made a show of turning on the motor, checking lines, hanking on sails and otherwise killing time as we waiting for the files to copy. Technically, you're supposed to leave immediately after the inspection and I think they were a little annoyed with us, but the charts are tits. Thanks Ben.

One brush in the gearbox

Pressing the gear

Rewiring

We'll see how long this fix lasts.