Islas Cedros to Isla Natividad to Bahia Tortugas, Mexico              3-28-15 Saturday afternoon, a week and a day before Easter

I’m having a delightfully calm afternoon and evening/overnighter at the northeastern tip of Islas Cedros, a larger island in the region. The southern part of the island is busy with industry: grinding fish into fertilizer and bagging it (smells are evidently overpowering), and processing sea salt. It is also know as a smuggler’s destination – a stop-off for boats heading north from mainland Mexico to ports further north.

To avoid problems ranging from theft to being boarded by island police, we anchor on the opposite side of the island, in the more protected of the two northeastern anchorages, just south of a very small fish camp. It is an idyllically calm spot, having just cruised 48-hours straight for the first time, and getting rolled about by muddled seas like a cat in a clothes dryer. The anchorage is a known seal rookery – perhaps why no other boats are here. The noises emanating from hundreds of seals, ranging from large, female elephant seals to smaller sea lions are downright spooky. They sound human: coughing, childlike screams, cat cries, and usual barks. I find so much enjoyment watching and staring at them through binoculars. I witness a mother sea lion swimming up to shore, barking a few commands. Her baby, covered in molting fuzz, hurtles toward her. They play in the water then together hobble up shore. Lifting her back fin, the little tyke nurses while she watches on, guarding against potentially invading males. She is definitely a young beauty, often chased.

The large female elephant seals slumber the entire afternoon, sandwiched tight against each other. I watch four in particular. Occasionally one opens her eyes to check us out or opens her mouth to yawn, showing her gaping red maw. As the tide rises, the frequent lapping seaboard douses their faces, pointing toward the water’s edge. For over an hour these huge monoliths continue to lie in the same positions, moving their noses out of the water to breath…very entertaining to watch. Eventually one of them decides she’s had enough of being slowly suffocated. She wiggles free from the other behemoths. The remaining three indicate their displeasure by barking and gaping their mouths threateningly. Eventually another starts to move as well. The two seem close friends. Once they finally waddle their way to shallow waters, they play and kiss and nuzzle each other for another hour before eventually lumbering off into deeper waters and disappear.

Immediately after anchoring, chores are completed. Then Bryce dons his wetsuit, demanding to enjoy the water. I am nervous for him, going in the water alone with so many large seals nearby. Eric digs out his spring wetsuit, fins, and snorkel, and despite the chill, slips his way, ever so slowly, into the clear, but still cold water. Trent is right behind. The open sore on my knee forbids me from joining them. The three of them head out to get a closer look at the seals, their own little school. All goes well. The seals keep their distance. Dad exits the water, but Bryce and Trent continue to play in the water for another couple hours. Some toddler seals come over to play with them. Dad even sets-up the rope swing for the boys. Having enough of the swing, Bryce and Trent then capture their follies on their waterproof GoPro video cameras. As evening approaches, I allow myself to enjoy a glass of wine and provide Eric a Guinness that I chilled especially for today with grilled bacon-wrapped Mexican hotdogs and sliced cucumbers. It is a well deserved relaxing and overall lovely day, not to mention the benefits of a full night’s sleep at this wonderfully calm anchorage.

Leslie Dennis Rigney

Ensenada to Islas Cedros, Mexico              3-27-2015 Friday, 4:30 am

This evening, I offer to take Eric’s previous watch schedule, covering two watches tonight, starting at 7:30 p.m. The three amigos are below deck by 8:00 p.m. In the dark, it is quiet. Trent comes up the companionway (doorway into the cockpit) around 9:00 pm; says he can’t sleep. He cuddles up next to me under the salty blanket. Trent is reading the Harry Potter series, so I offer to read aloud his book to him until his watch. It is nice, unexpected quality time with my 11-year-old son. Just before 10 p.m., Trent takes his watch. I feel badly that he doesn’t get a nap before his watch, but I’m tired. Before I leave, I help him get comfortable under the large folded blanket.

The seas remain rough. When I go below, the aft berth is rocking so violently to and fro that I can’t get comfortable enough to sleep. I think I will have to move to the saloon floor on future passages. Ugh! I finally fall asleep around midnight after Eric takes his watch and changes course to a more comfortable tack.

Four hours of sleep, back up at 3:50…Bryce likes to wake-up the next watch early…little bugger. Stars are bright tonight. I pull out my distance eyeglasses so that I can see better the myriad of constellations that envelope us: recognizing Big Dipper, Little Dipper, Orion and the Milky Way. Next watch, I will bring up my smart phone with its Star app to learn more of the night sky’s patterns.

During my downtime and on watch, I have been reading Richard Henry Dana Jr.’s Two Years Before the Mast (Dana Point, our third stop down from Ventura, was named after him). I enjoy more listening to this book read aloud. Eric had downloaded it from LibraVox (free recorded audiobooks) and shared a couple chapters with his Kandu crew before we landed at Dana Point. On my own, I’m finding the book rather dry, although Mr. Dana has a prolific and eclectic vocabulary. His word choices are entertaining. Impressive is his ability to use such a variety of words to describe similar subjects…halyards, stays, names of sails, etc. But as far as emotional content is concerned, he leaves me parched. I’m reading it to learn more about sailing in a somewhat entertaining way, rather than reading manuals on sailing, and as a bonus, the book describes the California coastline in its early development. The book was published in 1840, just prior to the gold rush. It became an overnight bestseller, whereby he was elevated to rockstar status among gold rushers.

On an entirely different subject, wearing our fancy hydrostatic life jackets all the time is annoying. Mine is starting to feel heavy and sometimes it makes me hot. Cooking yesterday afternoon was quite the chore because there were a lot of dirty dishes in the sink and the boat was bucking like a bronco, lurching deeply from side to side. I was crabby and frustrated. I stripped off my vest and found relief to move around and finish preparing dinner: macaroni & cheese, the boys’ favorite; served with the last of my fresh crudité, not the boys’ favorite. In Ensenada, I had stocked up with fresh vegetables, but these were mostly consumed while hosting Uncle Bill and family friend, Joe. I will have to find more fresh vegetables in Bahia Tortugas, i.e.: Turtle Bay.

Life aboard Kandu while sailing on overnight passages and then anchoring instead of being tied to a dock, is smaller and larger at the same time. Living space is very tight on purpose to keep everything and everyone inside from rolling about when seas are rough. Yet, these imposed limits below deck encourage boat dwellers to ascend above deck offering limitless perspectives.

Leslie Dennis Rigney

Ensenada to Islas Cedros, Mexico             3-26-2015 Thursday, 8:30 pm

The boys have been rambunctious all evening having been stuck for the first time over 24 hours on the boat. Yesterday, Wednesday, March 25^th, 2015, we departed Ensenada Harbor, 11:45 a.m., stocked with plenty of easy foods to snack on: fresh fruit of all kinds, yummy Mexican pastries, highly pasteurized boxed milk and eggs.

The seas since departing Ensenada have been so convoluted and muddled (we later learned the unusual mix of southern swell and northern swell was due to the aftereffects of Hurricane Pam which demolished Vanuatu the week prior to our departure) that not one of us escaped the effects of nausea. Thankfully none of us vomited. The fresh easy foods were a very good idea, because I didn’t feel like cooking and none of us were interested in eating much.

For the first time since we’ve owned and sailed the boat, we engaged the spinnaker pole to hold the genoa sail out (the large triangular sail in front of the boat), fully catching the wind. We’ve been sailing almost directly downwind (wind from behind). For comfortable sailing, Kandu prefers to be 10° off the wind. In the dark, on our first overnight, we did not want to engage in a lot of jibing, changing direction from starboard to port, as maneuvering a cruising sailboat like Kandu is not the same as handling a small race boat like a J24. Jibing Kandu is quite the process (you almost want to calendar it in), moving the spinnaker pole from port to starboard and back which requires changing out the fore and aft guys, and swapping out the topping lifts. Thus we kept the same downwind tack all night long, bobbing side to side while the sails crashed loudly: luffing and filling. Sometimes the sound was explosive. Hearing it, my head shuddered!

Wednesday evening was the start of our first night watch tours. Eric assigned himself the more fatiguing double watch 8-10:00 p.m. and 4-6:00 a.m. He woke Bryce for the 10-12 midnight. Bryce woke me from midnight to 2:00 p.m. I woke Trent for the 2-4:00 a.m., the easiest watch. Then Trent woke Eric again for the 4-6:00 a.m. Eric was so exhausted, both physically and emotionally, that he woke Bryce again at 6:00 a.m. to take over while he grabbed some more sleep before getting on the HAM radio net for a 7:45 a.m. weather report.

My first watch was fine. Beforehand, Eric had taught us how to fill-in the “Passage Logbook” page, so I dutifully recorded our position at N 30° 52, W 116°32 with a compass heading of 146° South. Going roughly 5.5 knots, the wind was only blowing 8-8.5 mph. The night sky was clear; the air was wet, causing the blanket covering my legs to be damp: a king size synthetic blanket given to us 20 years ago for our wedding and previously unused. I was very happy to be covered by this perfectly soft blanket where the dirt wipes away easily and salty moisture dries quickly, keeping the user toasty warm. I almost didn’t bring it due to lack of space, but Eric recommended something for night watches and I remembered this one. Sure am glad I toted it along!

My two-hour watch did not seem terribly long. I was warm, but not too warm: comfortable under our dry hard dodger, but with the wet cool wind blowing up the rear, not too comfortable. My recent knee abrasion was tender. At the Ensenada Cruise Port Village guest dock, we moved Kandu from the end of B dock to the end of C dock. To catch the dock lines, I ran from one end to the other end. There was a stainless steel tube frame on the dock that I tripped over, landing hard on my right knee, the knee of my ACL replacement. My hands and forearms were superficially scraped, but my knee suffered terrible road rash, swelling, and bruising. Since then, it has been bothering me, reducing my ability to move quickly around the boat.

9:00 pm – my writing was interrupted by Trent, who couldn’t sleep. It seems for all of us, adjusting to life at sea and into the unknown will take some time.

Leslie Dennis Rigney