Small Moments as we head north

We left La Cruz at the end of March and started working our way north to the Sea of Cortez / Gulf of California / Baja Sea. On our way, we are doing a series of passages and stopping at some pretty cool places. We decided to ask everyone to write up one small moment during this journey. Below you’ll find each of ours.

Cora

Holden

Isla Isabel

We arrived in Isla Isabel early in the morning. Isla Isabel in an island about 18 miles from the mainland with great snorkeling and hiking. We anchored are sailboat right next is Isla Isabel. We put on are wetsuit’s and got in the dink. We anchored the dink right next to the rocks and jumped out to go snorkeling. Snorkeling was kind of cloudy but other than that It was pretty cool. I was in awe of all the different fish and coral. It was very beautiful. We saw a big jack crevalle. Its fins were very sharp. We also saw an angel shark. It is a flat shark with lots of spots. The shark was amazing. After that we got in the dink and went back to the boat. It was the best snorkeling ever.

Luke

Epic Whale Sighting

The whale slapped the water with its tail. BOOM, the sound came seconds after it hit. We had left from Isla Isabel an island off the pacific coast of Mexico about eighteen nautical miles (a minute of latitude) from the mainland. Our destination was Mazatlán a city on the mainland about one hundred miles north. We had just left on this over night passage when we saw the first tail slap. The whale was dead ahead, slapping it tail repeatedly.

It was over five hundred yards away, but I must admit I was a bit a scared, I had heard no less the two stories about whales hitting boats recently (One in bandores bay that was fine and one in the middle of the pacific that sank almost instantly, they were totally safe thankfully), so I had reason to scared. However, I was more worried about the whale then us. Thankfully, we slowed down to forward neutral to avoid a collision. After that me and Mamie ran back up to the bow where Aidan and Cora were to watch it.

You might expect that to be all, but rather than stop it raised its tail then Boom, hit the water, then again and again. Having watched a few shows the whales put on we expected this, watching the spray as the tail hit. It was amazing, such a big animal right there. Then after a while a another whale to the right of it joined in raising it pectoral fin and slapping it down. There probably is scientific name for this behavior, but I will come up with my own, how about the most awesome thing ever, yeah that’s good. Any way the one on the right slapped less frequently.

A little while later the one on the right dove, living just the first one. Then the first one did some thing none of us expected, it breached! Then did it again, this new move brought new noises: louder slapping noises and loud wows (mostly me) though I’m sure that I was doing it before, but it was louder now. That was pretty much how I was feeling the whole time because I mean if that’s not cool what is?

I thought that it was amazing the way it spun as it jumped. The whale was so big and the way it jumped was crazy. Once I was sure we were not going to hit the whale or scare it off all I felt was pure excitement, every time it breached the was a loud “Wow!” I could not stop myself. We left it behind, but it was one of the highlights of the passage, that and listening to The Martian.

Aidan

Nighttime passage making on a sail boat comes with many different emotions for me. Recently, we just did two overnights – one from La Cruz to Isla Isabel and another from Isla Isabel to Mazatlán.

First, I always feel a bit nervous. Particularly as the sun sets – where you go from being able to see the world around you to seeing very little. On the ocean there are no lights, other than other boats, the Moon, and the stars. You can’t see what’s in the water immediately in front of you. You can’t be sure if that light you see is another boat, a star, or something else entirely. It takes a while to adjust, but the sun sets in minutes and it’s dark before your senses have adjusted. Noises feel louder. The waves feel bigger. The wind feels stronger. Eventually, your mind adjusts to this new normal and you can settle in.

Second, I feel excited. Being on a night passage means we are going somewhere new. It means we are exploring. It also, more often than not, means we can see some incredible stars. Sometimes it is cloudy or foggy and sometimes the moon is full, but more often than not there is a part of the night where the sky is clear and the stars are incredible. You can point your binoculars skyward and see dense star fields. You can watch constellations move across the sky as the earth spins.

Finally, I feel content. Moving along at the relatively slow pace of a sail boat forces you to shift into lower gears. It takes an hour to go 6 or 7 miles – many people could run further! Recently, we have been doing night watches together. We watch our navigation, adjust the sails, listen to music, and even play card games. It is fun to spend time this way – and it is so unlike any other time we spend together that it brings with it a sense of contentment that lasts well beyond the shift.

Nighttime passages are challenging, but a unique and remarkable part of long distance cruising.

Mamie

Translation in Aisle Five

I was tired. I had been running around the greater PV area gathering up provisions for the next leg of our journey north to the Sea of Cortez. Four hours, an encounter with a Mexican speed trap, and two carts of Costco goods later, I was at the La Comer picking up the last items. My mind was a bit of a blur as I stared down at my full cart and tried to visualize the galley and what items we were running low on. Chili powder. I am pretty sure I had used up the last bit in the enchilada casserole last time.

I found the spices in aisle cinco. Looking at the shelves of unfamiliar baggies and packets, it was yet another puzzle in translation that every trip to the grocery store presented. While plenty of cultural differences were apparent throughout our travels, it was in the tiendas and supermercados that one saw the little differences between domestic life in Mexico and the US. Few canned tomatoes, but rows of diced tomatoes and onion next to ketchup in huge cans. No brown rice and few crackers. Chips are all queso or fuego flavored. Dairy products include lots of crema, but no whipping cream. Cuts of meat are similar but not exactly familiar, and baking soda is found in the pharmacy aisle – not with the baking stuff.

Now I was in the spice aisle trying to find chile powder. Lots of the usual spices and plenty of new ones – pepper with lime, salt with lime, garlic power with lime – and lots of chilis – big, small, powered, whole, pastes, and tubes. But nothing that I recognized as similar to the mild American chili powder that I knew our gringo taste buds could handle.

A pleasant looking older gentleman with a kind face, closed shaved beard, and studious glasses was also hunting and pecking in the aisle.

“What are you looking for?” I asked in English.

He said he was just looking, but asked if I needed help. I asked him about chili powder. No recognition passed on his face. I tried to explain – nada. He asked what I was cooking. “Chicken,” I replied.

“?Hablas espanol? My English is a mess,” he asked.

“Si. Pocito.”

He then earnestly launched in to a description of his favorite way to cook chicken, handing me a chili paste and a couple of packets of dried herbs. Through my limited Spanish and some very dramatic and helpful hand gestures, I understood that one mixed this paste with the juice of fresh oranges and rubbed it all over the chicken before putting in the oven to bake. Not exactly sure what to do with the herbs…but I got the gist of it.

Caught between interested in trying this recipe and just wanting to grab something that resembled chili powder so I could head home… I took multiple spice packets and started to back away only to have him pull me in with new ideas of how I could prepare chicken. Finally, after many muchas gracias, I managed to end the conversation and head toward the check out line. I was almost there, when the lovely man rushed up with an armful of oranges and again explained the recipe, pushing the oranges into my arms with an excitement to share his culture with me. I smiled and gladly took them, added them to my cart, and finally checked out – done with my provisions for the day.

As I drove back to the marina exhausted, I smiled as it dawned on me that “chili powder” is a totally American creation – a mix of chilis and other spices that we associate with “Mexican” food. But my futile search for it had yielded something much richer and – as I mused on the orange chili-spiced chicken – much tastier.