Point Conception: What A Drag!

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Hello Northern California!

AnnMarie arrived the other day and we quickly headed north. The weather gods decided to punish us for moving the boat so quickly by throwing wind and waves at our bows. We bumped and bashed along, making less than four knots over much of it. The temps rarely got above sixty five, and the wind chill made it feel much worse. We wear our foulies most of the time now, and hats that can also be used as birth control, cause no one is gonna sleep with you if you're wearing it.

We motored continuously, with swells and chop coming from several different directions at once. Every so often a few waves would combine to leap up and smack our boat, jarring everyone aboard and making a booming noise that reverberated through the entire boat and slowing our progress.

The next morning I came on deck to discover that the port side trampoline, recently restrung with line we'd bought in Mexico, had parted. The constant bashing had snapped the line in several places. Two sides of it were still tied to the boat, but the other two dragged through the water with each wave that slammed into us. We reduced speed as I put on all my foulies, PFD, harness and clipped in to the jack lines, then went up on the bow to cut the tramp away from the boat. After hanging on the end of a cold, slippery bow while it bounced along through the waves, I managed to wrestle it back aboard and stow it in the cockpit. Then I went inside, and warmed up over a tin can of seafood. This is definitely not the glamorous cruising life you see on the magazine covers.

We reached Cojo Cove, just beneath Point Conception, at sunset and dropped the hook. There were a few large Coast Guard mooring balls just outside the anchorage, but these were reserved for the various oil rigs tenders, rescue ships and other such corporate and government boats that frequent the area. The winds were from the northeast, around fifteen knots but gusting to twenty five every so often, so we were nervous about making sure we had a good grip on the bottom. I added a smaller 20lb Danforth (something I've done many times before) to the end of the big CQR, but I had little faith in our primary anchor. We'd had nothing but problems with it in the past; it never set well, tended to drag, and didn't handle wind changes very well.

We dropped the hook in twenty-six feet of water over what was described as hard sand, taking pains to lower the anchor slowly, allowing the small anchor to touch, then slowly drifting back as we laid down the larger CQR and chain. We paid out all of our rode as we drifted back (leaving us a 6 to 1 scope) and then backed down on it with the engines, feeling the big anchor dig in. We sat there for a while, watching the land around us, as well as our GPS positions, to see if we going anywhere. We weren't, but I still wasn't comfortable about it, so I left the radar & GPS on, setting the electronic alarms to warn us if we moved.

Then we had dinner and rechecked our position: all was well. Naturally, the wind had died completely and we were being slowly rocked by a gentle swell from the west. Perfect conditions for rounding the point. I wondered if we should just pull stakes and head out now, but we were all tired from the bash, so we decided to get some much needed rest. We'd stay here a day, wait until tomorrow's sunset and then attempt to round the point. We all went to sleep.

About four hours later the alarms went off. The wind had come up, there was still some fog and we were dragging through the anchorage, headed out to sea. By the time I'd got up on deck we were sliding past one of the mooring balls, not five feet away from us. I started the engines and pushed them slowly forward, trying to at least keep us in place while the rest of the crew came up and we figured out what to do next. The wind was freshening, and it would only get worse when the sun rose. We decided to weight anchor and head north now.

As we used the engine to keep slack on the chain and power the windlass to raise it, the chain began to rattle aboard, but suddenly pulled to the left and towards the mooring ball. We realized then that the hook was tangled around the mooring ball's chain, somewhere beneath forty feet of cold, dark, murky water. We thought about several possible strategies, but the reality was that without a dry suit, regulator and underwater flashlights, it didn't make any difference. We were stuck.

It was still dark, we were exhausted, and this time definitely not worried about dragging, so we went back to sleep. Our plan was to wait until morning, then deal with it then. We woke up just towards sunrise when the mooring ball began banging against the side of our hull. It was dead still outside. We got up, made several attempts to figure out what to do, but diving into freezing cold water without the proper equipment, alone, using only a "Spare Air" as a regulator was a recipe for disaster. In the end decided that the forty feet of chain and an anchor we'd never liked was worth losing. We dragged out the bolt cutters, snapped our way to freedom and set out around the point.

We took advantage of the early morning wind and dashed around Point Conception, bucking fifteen knot head winds and five foot high swells and chop. The sun rose and so did the wind. Soon we found ourselves bashing into waves that crashed over the deck and sprayed green water onto the salon's cabin top. As the day wore on, so did we. We took turns at the helm, wrapped up in our foulies and watching the wind and waves do their best to stop our progress north. The only one who seemed to enjoy any of this was John, who thrives on bad weather, high seas and long stints at the helm. We sidled in along the coast line, hoping to avoid the brunt of the weather as we motored north.

We continued on and arrived at San Luis Obispo the next evening. It is a beautiful little harbor with a few mooring balls for transient boats. We motored in after dark, and tied up to a ball, but couldn't raise the harbor authorities on the radio. We've been having problems with our VHF radios, I believe the main radio's transmitter has failed entirely, and the VHF handhelds, even on the highest setting, were limited in their abilities to reach anything more than a few hundred yards away. We crashed for the night, listening to the seals barking on the breakwater just yards away.

The next morning I took the dinghy into to shore and paid for our night's stay, then checked out the fuel dock. Sadly, it is under temporary construction and not something I'd recommend for anything but a steel sided fishing vessel. The pumps are on top of a long pier, twenty feet above the water, and the hoses are lowered down to you. The only tie-up is to a long "camel" (a log surrounded by old car tires) that is lashed to the piers. Anyone wanting to preserve their gelcoat would be well advised to consider this arrangement before counting on getting fuel here. We left shortly after that and headed north again.

The ride up was more of the same. Long swells from the west, mixing with short chop from the north and a "reflection" swell bouncing off the shore from the east. It made the ride rough and bouncy, with a lot of slapping and banging as we went. We arrived in Santa Cruz that morning, and tied up to the local fuel dock. The folks at the dock were great, bending over backwards to make our stay there pleasant. We grabbed a spot just around the side and tied up Triton. Not less than ten minutes later we were met by John's sweetie Diana. John needed to get back due to a death in his family, so we had time only for a brief drink and snacks before they headed home together. SLO is a lovely bay and the harbor was quite nice, with many nice restaurants and a great beach as well. We refueled, spent the night at the dock, got a good night's sleep. AnnMarie and I left the next morning, only to be greeted by increasing winds and waves as we headed on.

Eventually we approached Half Moon Bay, and our next destination at Pigeon Point Harbor. It was already sunset as we entered the bay, so we needed to rely on the navigation lights atop the buoys that mark the entrance. You need to be careful when coming in from the south. There is a large reef that runs just south of the entrance, and you need to work your way past it before turning east. The harbor is very windy, but quite well protected, with a long, high sea wall around it. There is a second breakwater around the marina itself. We motored along, found a berth to tie up at, and cheered. We'd made it!

We had decided to leave the boat here for a bit while. We wanted to invite everyone who has ever been crew on Triton (and their spouses) to join us for the last twenty miles home. Our plan is to sail under the Golden Gate with the entire crew on deck, then pull up to the dock and invite all our friends aboard for a home coming celebration. So far, most everyone we've contacted can make it and we are excited to be so close to home.

Keep an eye on this website for the final leg's description and photos of the event. It has been a long, strange trip, but well worth the effort. We have been blessed by great friends, fantastic crew, a great boat and a survivable amount of government interference. No doubt the last twenty miles will take the longest, but it is good to be this close to home.

Cheers for now,

Robb


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San Diego: the only thing not at war here is the weather.

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SAN DIEGO ROCKS!!

Sorry if I'm yelling, but for someone who has spent the last year driving miles on dirt roads looking for a shop, store or roadside hovel with the right part in stock, this place is a boater's wet dream come true. One of the biggest problems we've had with Triton has been the leaking plumbing, which uses a 15mm "quick connect" fitting. I've looked everywhere in Central America for it, but most folks had either never seen it before or didn't carry it.

I walked up to the very first boat chandler I found and showed them the part. "You ever seen anything even remotely like this?" I asked the salesman. He smiled and said "Seen it? I've got a box of them right here!" and pointed to a wall of bins of various valves, tee connectors and other fittings, all exactly tailored for the 15mm line. I almost cried. Right next door was a Yanmar dealership; I was able to get everything I needed for the engines. A block away was one of the largest West Marines in the country. It was heaven. I've been able to get parts to fix most everything that had been broken or missing since I first bought the boat.

The next day I went to a museum exhibit then out for dinner with Holly E, a good friend who lives in these parts. We toured around town, saw a great movie called "Juno" (very, very funny and definitely worth seeing) and had a sushi dinner that I didn't have to catch first! It was pure luxury. As a token of my appreciation, I gave her a pair of fuchsia-colored furry gloves. Truth be told, I wasn't quite sure how I'd gotten them, and they just didn't go with my foulies- I'm a winter and those are definitely a spring color.

Monday afternoon I went over to the big building in town to speak with the Customs folks. The Vessel Entrance & Clearance Specialist woman I spoke with (I'm not making that up, that really was her title) assured me there wasn't any problem, so I was officially a real live American again. Now I can sail into any port in America I want without first spending a day making of fool of myself in Spanish. I still retain my constitutional rights to do so in English, which I've honed over the last year, but at least I'll know what the port officials are saying to me when they make those snarky comments.

With all the paperwork accomplished, and many of the boat projects done, I thought it would be nice to take Holly out on the bay. We went out for a day sail the next day, and it was amazing. Once you navigate around the various aircraft carriers, freighters, mid-sized warships, speed boats, three-masted schooners, tugs, restored wooden ketches, trawlers, restricted military operations areas, kayaks and canoes that jostle about the channel, sailing the bay is a cake walk. The winds were light but constant. We set the sails, aimed for a distant island, and sat back.

Now I realize why S.D. sailors are considered such light weights by the folks further north. It's so easy to sail here. The same trip out of S.F, after only an hour, would have involved three climate changes, dense fog and being run over by a Panamax freighter. If you tried this stunt out of Seattle, it would also have included a gale, icebergs and sub-zero temperatures. As it was, I think the only time I needed to do anything more strenuous than looking around was when I refilled our drinks. San Diego is definitely a boat friendly place.

After an hour or so we were quite a ways off shore, the winds were dying and we decided to turn around and head back. Just as we tacked, some military type folks pulled up in a speed boat and wanted to know if we were definitely leaving. We assured them we were, but asked why they wanted to know. "Oh, in a few minutes some folks will be jumping out of an airplane and want to land right here in the water." Long pause while we stared at each other. "Is there anything wrong with the plane?" I asked. "No, they just need the practice" was their offhand response, "they do this all the time." Yup, we are definitely in San Diego. If you'd wanted to parachute into the San Francisco bay you'd need authorization from about thirty different government agencies first, and probably be protested by Green Peace, Save The Whales, and the Bay Area Muck and Seagrass Preservation Society.

Anyway, it was a beautiful, perfect day and a great way to relax after so much mandatory motoring. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to use the sails for something as self-indulgent as just sailing. Holly seemed to enjoy herself as well, and we pulled into the harbor as the sun was setting. There were fighter jets flying in tight formation, a helicopter rescue drill going on off to starboard, and the local mine sweeping operations had just begun. What a harbor! Even the local Trader Joe's has pictures of aircraft carriers on the walls! I think if you smashed Berkeley and San Diego together, the resulting matter/anti-matter explosion might destroy the universe.

When I returned to the dock, there were two wonderful messages waiting for me on my cell phone. The first was from John, who said he'd had such a great time that he wanted to come back and do the rest of the sail with me. The second was from AnnMarie. Her dream job for the last year (the reason she hadn't been along for the entire trip) had just turned into a nightmare. She worked as the Comptroller for a patio furniture import company. About three months ago, the offshore parent company had dismissed the entire senior level management in America, a move that surprised everyone, especially AnnMarie, as the folks they let go were one of the best reasons she liked working there. At the time they had assured her they would be making her a new job offer quite soon, and in writing, but first they needed to finish the audit. She had been working seventy hour weeks on this project, for several months, and it was finally coming to an end when they gave her their offer letter.

While it had much of what she wanted, it contained some clauses she just couldn't accept. When she asked about changing it she was told it was a "take it or leave it" proposition. At that point she was receiving several calls a week asking her if she were interested in any outside contracts, and since it was made clear that amending her offer wasn't an option, so she quit. Honestly, I wish she had done this months ago. She is going to fly down and join us for the rest of the sail up. But won't be able to meet us until Long Beach, as she needed a few extra days to make sure she left the books up to date, run the various payrolls, general ledgers and all that other geek stuff that makes companies work.

John arrived a few days later. There were a few last minute items we needed, so on the way back from the airport we pulled into West Marine. As I was wondering around the store I heard "Rob! What are you doing here?". I looked up and saw Ron, my manager when I worked in the Oakland store. He had transfered down here. We chatted for a bit and then I invited him and his wife over for dinner, along with another WM employee who thought she might be interested in sailing north, a dock neighbor and some local sailors we'd met along the way. We made a big seafood & pasta dinner, chatted about work, told sea tales and even talked politics. What surprised me was that before everyone left they insisted on doing the dishes, cleaning the galley and making sure everything was ready for our departure tomorrow. It was a very lovely gesture and a great way to end my stay in San Diego.

Early the next morning we fueled up, topped off the water tanks and set sail for parts north. We pulled into Long Beach after a short day trip. It was an odd harbor, mostly very small craft, with old wooden docks, but the rents were cheap and we only needed to be there long enough for AnnMarie to arrive. There was a very large mall, Whole Foods, Safeway, and yet another West Marine, right along side the piers. We are definitely back in the states.

Well, it won't be long now before we are back in Emeryville, we need only work our way around Point Conception, and we're home free. The weather systems that gave us such great southerly winds have all passed through, so the high pressure system that normally lives off the coast has returned, bringing with it northwesterly winds, which will be on our nose for the rest of the way. But, AnnMarie will be along, which always brightens the day.

I hope this post finds your prospects as joyful and spirits as high!

Cheers,

Robb


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The Barn and Beyond

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Ahoy Mateys!

Well, we are in San Francisco now. The weather is cold, it is raining on and off, and windy. There are Subarus and Volvos filled with soccer moms everywhere we look, the streets are filled with people bustling about carrying shopping bags, and everyone is bundled up against the weather. Oh, wait a minute, this is San Diego! It just seems like San Francisco. What happened to their blue skies, warm winds and lush gardens is beyond me, but folks here all insist that we at the southern end of the state, not the middle of it.

We left Ensenada this morning, motoring for San Diego harbor. The trip north went smooth and was uneventful. We had southerly winds and swells from the west, making the coast fly by, but it really hasn't been nearly as much fun. The motors throb and rumble as they push us along, and the seas roll us side to side, making for a less peaceful journey. We also aren't cooking very much. Mike and John have been living on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and bananas with Nutella. I've been eating mostly from foil packets of Indian food, straight from the pouch. Not great, but tasty and easy to grab.

A troupe of dolphins accompanied us most of the way, dancing across our hulls and jumping out of the water so close we could reach down and touch them. They are always happy to see us, our grinning and playful neighbors that come and go as they please. I've watched them now for over a year, but I know that soon, sadly, they'll be gone; the water is getting too cold for their tastes. I will miss them. We've started seeing more seals, another indication of the changing weather and water temperatures.

As we entered American waters, we played "Back In The USA" by Linda Ronstadt, but honestly, it was anti-climatic. We were cold, tired and ready to get off the boat. The water heater lines had ruptured a while back, leaving us without hot showers. Our makeshift attempts to repair it lasted only a few days, so we were looking forward to land and warm water. Although we'd had a very good run up the coast, still, it has been cold and windy, and at times wet, especially at night. We had to wear foulies for most of it, with lots of layers underneath. At night we slept with as many blankets as we could find. With only three on board, our watch schedule meant someone was always at the helm while the others slept, and no one was getting as much rest as they needed. We were looking forward to getting off watch, going out for dinner and getting a decent night's sleep.

On the way in to the harbor we passed several Navy war ships, freighters and even a submarine on its way out on patrol. There were many helicopters practicing search and rescue exercises, and fighter jets circling the bay, clear indications that this was one of the United State's largest naval ports. Their presence here permeates everything about the area. It is definitely a military base city, regardless of how laid back or left wing it might appear.

We arrived at the Customs dock at 4:30pm. A previously arriving vessel had already called for the Customs Officials (based at the nearby airport), so they appeared only minutes later, instead of the normally long wait. There were two officers, and I think we got the nice one. He was quite nice and very polite, gave us help filling our forms and explained where the local stores, restaurants and government buildings were. He wasn't sure about our papers, it was not immediately clear if our vessel required additional processing, and ended up calling the main office several times as we tried to resolve this. In the end he didn't confiscate our documentation, but suggested we show up at the main office on Monday just to make sure. After a brief inspection we were officially back in the states, and free to come and go as we pleased. We then moved the boat over to the "transient" dock (funny to be a transient now that I'm a legal resident again), where arriving boats could stay for up to ten days for very little money. Mike and John had made flight reservations to leave on Sunday, so we were planning on spending the next day at the world famous San Diego Zoo, a tourist attraction none of us had ever seen before. We grabbed dinner and went to sleep, happy to be home.

The next morning Mike received a call from his wife. The massive storms that had made getting here so easy for us, had flooded his home. Their garage was awash, and their back yard was under three feet of water. He needed to get home immediately, and grabbed the next plane back. John was also feeling bad about leaving his folks for so long, and decided to leave a day sooner as well. They were both the greatest of crew, the best of friends and folks to whom I will always be grateful. Getting up the coast without them would have been a slogging nightmare. Thank you guys!

Well, we've made it to the states, that's one big accomplishment achieved, and something that took far too long to happen, but was worth every delay, disruption and detour. I've been fortunate enough to have had the help of many great friends, made some new ones along the way, and found out that the best measure of a man is the quality of those who come to his aid. By that yard stick, I'm the luckiest guy alive. I never dreamed so many wonderful people would join us along our trip, nor did I realize just how much I needed their support. To everyone who was ever a part of this, I humbly thank you all.

Now all that remains is get around Point Conception (known to be a tough corner for boats going north) and the slog up to San Francisco. I'm not sure if I'll be able to convince anyone else to come along, but I think the rest of the journey could be day hopped, as there are hundreds of harbors, large and small, along the way. For now, I'm going to take a few days to relax, see about getting the boat back to shipshape, repairing those items that we've left to the last or couldn't find the right parts for in Central America, and resting up for the next big jump.

I trust all of your plans are moving along as well, and look forward to seeing you all shortly.

Cheers,

Robb


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Heading North, We Stop In Asuncion

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Hey Guys,

Although, I wonder if the plural form of "guy" is appropriate here. Perhaps the only person reading this blog is myself? I hope not, because the self discipline required to sit down and write out each adventure is something that definitely doesn't come easy to me, and the talent to make that interesting is still a skill I strive to master. Especially when there isn't much to tell that is out of the ordinary, or the trip has gone smoothly. Oh, sure, I can invent all sorts of complicated lies about pirate attacks, or found treasure, or UFO sightings, but these days folks want pictures to prove it, and I'm just not up to speed on PhotoShop yet. I intend to take a class, and soon I'll be learning how to create photographic evidence as good as anything you see in the National Inquirer. I figure by this time next year I'll be sailing around the Horn of Africa with Elvis, rediscovering the lost city of Atlantis, and uncovering the secret government base where they train dolphins to attack Russian subs. In the meantime I'll just have to make do with describing what has been going on, and add in as many lies as I can get away with.

My two new crewmates, Mike and John, arrived, and brought with them several hundred pounds of goodies that AnnMarie shipped down, including a second shaft seal and the missing set screws from the first one. She also shipped down four huge containers of her famous "wheat free" chocolate chip cookies. Sadly, she mentioned this to Mike when she dropped the bags off with him, so only three arrived, and they were all pretty light at that. I told her not to let on that there were treats aboard (hoping to stash these away for myself) but now that the rest of the crew know about it, nothing is safe. Unless I stand next to the counter all day long, they seem to disappear much faster than I consume them. Drat! At the time of this writing, we are halfway up the coast of Baja, and there are three cookies left. It could very well be the plot for the next Kane Mutiny, with the crew setting me adrift in the dinghy clutching a tin of tall house cookies.

The new guys arrived on Thursday, and we spent most of it having dinner, shopping for boat parts, and all of Friday getting the boat finished. The new prop seal is installed and has worked well. We added redundant bilge pumps, fixed broken float switches, resewed the Bimini, and got pretty much everything else we needed to set sail, except for gas and ice, which we would get at the Cabo fuel dock. The two items we couldn't find was anyone that could refill our oxygen bottle, or sell us a scuba tank. I had brought down all my Paramedic Equipment including an O2 rig, but we have never been able to find anyone that could refill the bottle-- apparently getting oxygen is not possible in Mexico, which is surprising because there are any number of hospitals, clinics and emergency services located all over the area. Well, we wouldn't have O2, but we thought we'd at least be able to find a scuba tank. This trip Mike brought down a "Spare Air" which is a mini scuba tank with a regulator built right on top, that you can fill directly from a regular scuba tank. They give you about 14 breaths under water and are wonderful to have aboard if you need to dive the anchor, or clear the prop of kelp or tangled lines, or have to stay in the same cabin with the captain if he has had wheat. We looked all over town but couldn't find a scuba tank for sale either.

Friday night we went to an "open house" event on Slowdance, and had a great time talking to many of the movers and shakers of San Jose. David's mother (who owns the boat) and her best friend Maria (who was the star on the television show "Three's Company") were both there to help out as well. They did a great job, and over the course of the evening there must have been ninety people on board, including prospective clients and brokers. They even had a mariachi band. It was quite swank, and will probably drum up a lot of future business for them. We wish them great success and have no doubt that they will soon be taking folks out nightly.

At one point I started chatting with a charming woman named Caroline who runs the local American newspaper called the Gringo Gazette. She turned out to be the wife of another neighbor on the dock, Ernie, who sells fractional rentals in the area, rebuilds huge boats for fun and profit, and is involved in various real estate ventures. Ernie is one of those folks who you just immediately like. He is friendly, outgoing, witty and fun. We had started kidding around as soon as we met, and he was always offering tools and help whenever he came by the boat. We mentioned to them that we were getting ready to leave that night and I asked if he knew where we could buy a scuba tank. "Oh, here, I've got one you can have" he casually said. To a cruiser getting ready to head up the coast this is like saying "Oh, sure, I've got an extra tent, backpack and four wheel drive truck you could borrow" to someone going hiking in the desert. We were floored. I rode back to their apartment to pick it up, and was amazed by their place. They live in a beautiful home overlooking San Jose, and it is filled with oil paintings, mostly done by Caroline. She had studied music in college, was a guitar teacher for many years, but has now taken up painting (while running a newspaper), and is doing wonderful work. I must say I was very impressed with both of them. They are people who have achieved great things in their lives. Better still, they were gracious, warm and friendly to complete strangers. We hope to see them up north sometime soon and repay the kindness.

So, with scuba tank in hand, we set sail for Cabo. Well, almost. We discovered that the fix for the Bimini wasn't going to work. The velcro was completely dissolving from constant exposure to the sun, so we spent another two hours hand sewing it into place. Once done we motored down to Cabo in light winds from the north, arriving at dawn and pulled up to the fuel dock. It was still early and the regular circus of tourist clowns hadn't hit the water yet, so the bay was calm. We topped up the tanks, filled the freezer with ice and headed out for the long trek north. We were a bit apprehensive because rounding Cabo Falso can be one of the hardest things you can do in this area. The last time I was here (fifteen years ago) six boat tried it the week before us, and only four made it. One was blown back and the other went up on the rocks, killing one of its crew members and seriously injuring another.

The weather seemed very calm, so we headed up. Much to our surprise and delight, it was dead flat. We went around the rocks at eight knots, and headed up the coast with no headwind or chop. It was a fantastic start to our journey, and continued that way for many more miles. We made incredible time going north, and got to Mag Bay much sooner than we had intended. Having had only small swells and mild chop, we decided to push on for Turtle Bay. The weather reports were all looking good, and it seemed like we were going to dodge the dreaded "Baja Bash". As soon as we started getting confident, Mother Nature decided to remind us that she doesn't approve of gloating by slamming us with twenty knot winds, six foot seas and chop coming from three directions at once.

We pounded along for most of the night and a large part of the day. Eventually it calmed down, but we were low on fuel, so stopped in the middle of the ocean and filled our tanks from the jerry jugs we'd brought along, then started on again. The weather kicked up about fifty miles north of Mag Bay, and we were bashing along, being thumped by waves each time we past one. We reduced speed, but it still took a lot to push forward. We were being beaten on and burning fuel faster than we wanted. It also got cold, so standing shifts was no longer fun. In fact, it sucked. No glorious sunsets, no dolphins off the bowsprit, no whales breaching close by could make up for the fact that it was cold and wet and bumpy. We tried sailing against it but we couldn't find a favorable wind that helped. It stayed that way most of yesterday. By today we were still many miles below Turtle Bay, the wind (and thankfully the waves) had died down and we didn't have enough fuel to motor directly there. That meant turning east, losing both ground and time by heading for one of the harbors along the way. We were contemplating our options when the wind backed around a bit and picked up, giving us enough push to point towards Asuncion Bay, just south of Turtle Bay, where we wanted to go to refuel.

We motor sailed the rest of the way there, pulled into the harbor at night, and hailed Shari Bondy, one of the local ex-pats who is cruiser friendly. She gave us directions and GPS coordinates for a good anchorage and we dropped the hook just off shore in thirty feet of water on a sandy bottom a hundred yards from shore. Even before we'd put the anchor down we were greeted by a dozen seals, all splashing around our bow and happy to see us. We were pretty happy to see them too, and Mike commented that it was worth the whole trip just for this one minute. Personally, I think he could have saved a lot of travel by just going to SeaWorld, but he thought this was somehow better. Go figure. We made steaks on the barbecue, had a great meal, relaxed and got to sleep comfortably for an entire eight hours. What luxury!

The next morning we contacted Shari, who picked us up at the shore, drove us to the local gas dealer, filled our jugs, took us shopping, showed us around town, then brought us back to her place for breakfast and offered us showers to boot!! We were once again humbled by the good will of folks we've met. It is amazing and astounding the hospitality we've been offered in Mexico. It is truly a friendly country. We later met her husband Juan (who had been out fishing) and is also a talented musician and radio technician. They are great advocates for this area, and know most everyone. Between the two of them you can get help with just about anything you need. They also have a website if you want to learn more about the area. If you are ever in the area, give them a shout on channel 16 (Sirena, pronounced "sea rain ah") and tell them Robb Triton sent you.

Asuncion is a sleepy little fishing village along a bight of land facing the Pacific. It will one day be a glamorous vacation resort where folks spend thousands for a week's worth of relaxation. Right now it is mostly dirt roads and cement block houses, but the folks are warm and friendly, helpful to a fault and the kind of people you'd love to have for a neighbor. It's a bit off the beaten path, but the views are spectacular and the weather can't be beat. I'm smitten with this place.

Well, we'll be heading up to Turtle Bay soon, once we've fixed all the little things that broke on the trip, pour the diesel into the tanks, and clean up a bit. In the meantime I wish you all safe harbors, warm water and even warmer friends.

Cheers,

Robb


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San Jose, the anti-hell.

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Greetings from Sunny San Jose!

No, we have not made it up the coast in three days. I'm still here in Puerto Los Cabos, working on the boat, and awaiting parts, crew and AnnMarie. Not in that order. Ann managed to locate the correct part (so we hope!) and it turns out to be cheaper and easier for her to fly down here than to try to ship it. She arrives tomorrow, will spend the weekend and then fly back for work on Monday. There are very few men alive that have as wonderful a partner as I do. Not a day goes by I don't appreciate her being in my life.

In other good news, two folks have signed up, and are going to come along. They fly down next week. Mike, who sailed with us from Trinidad all the way to Panama, in addition to being a great guy and competent sailor, is also a paramedic fire fighter. So, if I have a heart attack from the boat catching fire, he'll know what to do, which is probably jump overboard and swim for shore.

Also joining us will be John, a friend of a friend. I'm told he has extensive sailing experience and has always wanted to make this trip. He expedited getting his passport to be able to do so, which says a lot about his motivation. This will definitely be a trip to put at the top of your sailing resume.

There is also the possibility that some others might join us. Some other friends of Mikes, and Charlie, one of my paramedic preceptors, is also possibility. There has also been interest by a number of locals including the first mate on the beautiful Lagoon 50 next to us in Cabo, someone on the docks here in San Jose, and someone else from Cabo.

So it is feast or famine. Actually, it would have been interesting to do the trip alone, but I'm thankful for the company. It is simply safer to have someone else on board, and anything more than two people is luxury for this boat. Now if only the weather would cooperate, it will be a cake walk.

I am certainly much relieved to have the additional help, and can now concentrate on the tasks at hand, which include getting grease permanently ensconced beneath my fingernails, ripping the skin from my knuckles, abrading my forearms on fiberglass, and having to pee while scrunched into an impossible position in the bilge. Ah, the good life.

In the meantime I wish you all a maintenance free, sunny, calm day and free of customs officials, port captains and pot holed roads.

Cheers,

Robb

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