Done!

Penngrove, CA

Through the Gate

Intermezzo and I passed through the Golden Gate into San Francsco Bay at 1pm this past Sunday afternoon, marking the end of my San Francisco Bash and the return of Intermezzo to the bay after almost nine years of voyaging. 

Powerful feelings welled up as I entered the bay. My mind was alive with memories, as if I was watching retrospective highlights from an epic movie, a melodrama. So much has happened over the past nine years - love, birth, death, injury, illness, separation, aging, political dysfunction - all while the beauty of the ocean, coastlines and nature, of life, blessed me on my little ship, my home on the sea. I felt a deep sadness, for something special that seemed to be coming to an end, like when graduating from high school or college. A sense of accomplishment, completion, too, so more like tears of joy than of grief.

Weather was kind to me for the last passage of my bash, the wind blowing from the south and allowing me to sail all the way from Half Moon Bay. The wind was blowing hard through the foggy gate and there was a strong flood current, so Intermezzo rushed into the bay at over 10 knots and kept up that pace until we had to jibe after passing Angel Island.  I was a bit concerned, the main sail being fully hoisted in 27 knots of wind, making the jibe tricky and, afterwards, wondering if I would be able to douse the sail singlehanded. But, of course, the Richmond Riviera! Angel Island blocks the wind and fog from the gate, creating a zone of calm, warm weather in its lee. I steered Intermezzo for a calm patch, the wind dropped to 8 knots, I dropped the main sail, unfurled the jib, headed downwind towards the Richmond Channel and took off my foul weather gear, down jacket and hat.

The Richmond Riviera in the lee of Angel Island

As we passed familiar landmarks, I began to feel at home in the bay, though it also felt small and crowded after being on the ocean for so long. There's a lot of traffic to dodge and I had to remember to pay attention to which tack, port or starboard, I and other boats were on to respect sailing rules of the road.

We tied up to our slip in Marina Bay Yacht Harbor, the same slip we departed from in October 2015. It felt good to be done, but I also felt out-of-place in such an urban environment, in a giant boat parking lot. I cleaned up the boat, took a walk, ate another crappy dinner and went to bed.

Yesterday Nate picked me up on his way home from work and drove me to the Ranch. I'm off the boat after 57 straight days at sea. It is neither foggy nor cold here. Nice.

Life will be different now. It feels strange to be apart from Intermezzo and for the boat's prominence in my life to greatly diminished for some time.

Intermezzo on "Catamaran Row" in Marina Bay Yacht Harbor

Home Stretch

Pacific Ocean, Off Pillar Point CA

We're on the home stretch, the last segment of the final leg of my San Francisco Bash. We just left Pillar Point Harbor at 8:30am this morning and are on our way to the Golden Gate in calm seas, in some fog that looks like it might clear. We expect to arrive in Marina Bay Yacht Harbor around 3pm this afternoon. We'll be done.

After rescuing the person in the water at the dock yesterday morning, we headed into Monterey Bay in the fog against a 15 knot headwind and steep 2-3 foot seas, a nasty wind chop, Bashing Level (BL) 2. Very unpleasant. And cold. We powered on, resolute.

After noon, the wind eased some and so did the waves, down to a sustained BL 1. Better. We powered on, happier.

Around 1pm, I noticed the sailing vessel Rabbit Hole on the Automatic Identification System (AIS) and radar display that was changing course frequently. I watched closely and it looked like they were searching for or trying to recover something or somebody that had fallen overboard. I hailed them on the radio to see if they needed assistance but did not get a reply. When I looked at the boat through the binoculars, I identified it as a sloop about 46 feet long, probably a Jeanneau.

It occurred to me that Arnstein said he would be teaching an Offshore Passage Maker course on a Jeanneau of that length when he got back to San Francisco. On a lark, I sent him a text message asking if he might, by chance, be out here.  I didn't get a reply to my text, but soon after, Intermezzo was hailed on the radio by Rabbit Hole and, sure enough, it was Arnstein's voice! They had been conducting a crew overboard drill. We laughed at the coincidence of being at the same place at the same time on the ocean, and Arnstein welcomed me and Intermezzo back to San Francisco. Rabbit Hole paid us a visit this morning before we raised anchor, sailing around us and saying hello.

Around 5pm the fog burned off and we enjoyed the approach to Pillar Point Harbor in fine weather. The green coastal hills towered over the ocean, I saw a few whales spouting in the distance and many, many sea birds. It was still chilly out, but I'm always happier in the sunshine.

We dropped anchor at 6:40pm, I had beer, a shot of tequila, chips and guacamole for a snack, then took a nap. When I woke up, I had a crappy dinner of Trader Joe's tortellini (not recommended) with Hunts Quatro Queso tomato sauce (also not recommended) and went to bed shortly thereafter, falling to sleep on calm water to the sound of the foghorn at the harbor entrance bleating every 10 seconds.

R&R in Monterey, Back to Bashing

Monterey Bay

Intermezzo on the dock in Monterey Harbor Marina

Intermezzo is back to bashing on the way to Half Moon Bay after a couple days of pleasant shore leave in Monterey. We departed the Monterey Harbor Marina at 7:30am this morning after a bit of drama, recovering a guy who fell off his boat and couldn't haul himself out onto the dock. The water here is cold, so a minor emergency.  Fortunately I and another guy on the dock heard the victim's cries for help and together were able to haul him out of the water. The other guy gave him a sleeping bag and I made him a hot cup of tea to warm him up and all was well enough for me to leave the dock.

It's bouncy out here this morning, closely spaced 2-4ft steep seas just off the port bow. Bashing Level 2 to start (hopefully) diminishing to BL 1 as we get further off Point Piños. I don't miss not bashing.

The trip to Monterey from Port San Louis (San Louis Obispo) was foggy, cold and lonely. After saying goodbye to Luther in the morning, I slept for a few hours and then slipped the mooring lines at 1pm to head out into the fog. I was soon in contact with a tug with a long tow to negotiate how we would pass by each other in the thick fog. The dodging of other vessels would continue sporadically into and through the night.

The night was foggy, cold and damp and I felt alone and isolated. I balanced staying alert with pacing my self for the long night's passage.

Dressed warm after a cold, foggy night's passage

Just before dawn, the skies cleared and I was treated to a nice warming sunrise as we approached Cypress Point, the fairways of the famous Pebble Beach golf course visible on shore. As we rounded Point Piños, Monterey Harbor came into view like a picture postcard, bright blue sky and sea, welcoming. After friendly harbormaster staff checked us into the marina, I ate a hot breakfast, took a hot shower and laid down to get some rest.

A welcome warming sunrise and clear skies nearing Pebble Beach

My July 4th Independence Day was not much of event. I took a walk around the old town, stopping at an English pub to enjoy a couple of We Forgive You Day beers and to eat lunch along the way. The weather was lovely, sunny, warm in the sun, cool in the shade, a gentle breeze. I headed back to the boat around 8pm with the intention of taking a nap, but ended up falling sound asleep in my clothes for the whole night. Guess I was tired after 21 hours of sailing in the cold fog and the beers hit me!

Yesterday morning I ran along the trail to Pacific Grove, had a nice breakfast at LuLu's on Wharf #2 (not the tourist wharf), then walked to West Marine to pick up a couple of things, returning via the beach. Another day of beautiful weather.

The trail to the beach heading back from West Marine

I enjoyed a family visit in the afternoon, Nicholas, JoAnna and Mikayla were in town to visit the aquarium and have dinner with friends. My main focus was on indoctrinating three year-old Mikayla to the boat, with the hope of her joining on as crew in my elder years of sailing. She explored the boat, tied all my lines into a web of knots, jumped on the trampoline. We took the dinghy out for an excursion to get close up views of sea lions and sea otters, though Mikayla found the feel of the water running through her fingers, the floating kelp (aka "muck"), and guano coating the rocks (aka "smelly bird poop") more interesting and amusing. We had a great time.

Mikayla (inverted), Nicholas and me on the tramp

Mikayla's rope work

I closed out the day with a nice dinner at a Greek restaurant in town, then prepared Intermezzo for departure, adding some diesel from jugs to the fuel tanks, topping off a water tank and securing deck and cabin.

This is the next to last leg of my voyage to San Francisco. We'll overnight in Pilar Point Harbor and then time our departure tomorrow to catch a fair tide through the Golden Gate and into San Francisco Bay.

Farewell to Luther

Pacific Ocean, Near Point Buchon

Farewell to Luther, too early in the morning for the sea lion sleeping on the dock

Yesterday's passage from the Cojo Anchorage to Port San Louis (San Louis Obispo) began with kelp dodging. During the night, the wind had backed from the northwest to the southeast and kelp fronds that drifting out of our way coming into the anchorage were now drifting into our path. Dodging the nasty weeds woke us up from a night of less-than-perfect sleep due to rocking at anchor as the wind shifted and the swell did not.

Rounding Point Conception and Point Arguello, "The Cape Horn of California", was a bit uncomfortable as we headed directly into a strong 6-7ft swell. Along the way, I noticed a "fragrance" that I perceived as herbal, like cut vegetation. I asked Luther to take a sniff and he said, "Petrochemical". Sure enough, we saw globs of oil and patches of sheen on the water. I will be careful about what I choose for aftershave from now on, seeking a second opinion.

The patches of oil were frequent enough and oil platforms were close to us, so I contacted the Coast Guard to report the conditions. The Coast Guard took down quite a bit of information over the radio and informed me that they would file a report with the National Response Center on my behalf and I should expect to be contacted by them. I probably gave half a dozen government people something to do and annoyed as many oil platform managers.

Once we rounded the Cape Horn of California and patted ourselves on the back for our skillful seamanship, the seas began to calm to a more gentle 4-6ft swell off our port bow. As we passed by Point Pedernales and "Destroyer Rock",  I gave a nod of respect for those lost during the largest peacetime loss of US Navy ships, the Honda Point Disaster. Seven destroyers crashed into the rocks there in 1923 due to a navigational blunder in heavy fog, five were lost, two managed to pull themselves off. Twenty-three sailors died in the incident.

Our passage to Port San Louis was cold and grey, motoring under either overcast skies or in a fog bank. Luther and I were wearing long underwear, down jackets and foul weather gear and feeling chilly, while the rest of California baked in a heat wave.

We took a public mooring ball in Port San Louis at 3:45pm yesterday afternoon, then took the dinghy to the pier to explore shoreside. On the way we enjoyed watching sea otters playing with each other in the water. They are very cute animals. We saw lots of sea lions and seals, most of them lounging on a platform just off the pier and barking at each other.

Getting onto the pier involves tying the dinghy's stern to a mooring ball, its bow to a ladder and then climbing up the ladder 10ft to get to the top of the pier and through a little gate onto its walkway. You have to squeeze your dinghy between the other two or three dinghies tied up to the same points. Not too difficult when arriving, as your are on the outside. But when you return, you can be in the middle and have to yank on the various dinghy lines while hanging from the ladder to get yours within stepping distance. I felt younger than my years doing those gymnastics.

We took a short walk, then stopped in at Merseas restaurant on the pier for bowls of clam chowder and beer. When we returned to Intermezzo, the mooring ball had found its way between the hulls like they often due and I had to start the engines and back away to get it out. The metal ring on the top of the buoy left a decent scratch on the underside of the bridge deck. Bah. Mooring balls are a pain in the ass for catamarans. Fortunately, the wind, current and boat cooperated to avoid it from happening again during the night.

Early this morning I dropped Luther off at floating drop-off dock at the base of the pier and he caught a bus back to San Jose. I am sorry to see him go. I enjoyed his company and appreciate his help in getting Intermezzo another 166nm closer to San Francisco Bay.

I went back to the boat and slept for the rest of the morning in preparation for the overnight passage to Monterey. We slipped the mooring lines at 1pm and headed out to sea. It's a 118nm trip along the coast, calm conditions but fog all the way. I expect to arrive in Monterey Harbor around 9am on July 4th. I'm told by the harbormaster that they will find a slip for me, just let them know when I'm an hour out. I hope that information is accurate

We've sailed 1,805nm since leaving Puerto Peñasco on May 9th, 220nm left to go.  I'm feeling the time and the distance, a bit weary, but also glad to be getting close to the end.

A Little Bashing

Cojo Anchorage, CA

Sunset in the Cojo Anchorage, looking at Point Conception

We're anchored along the south shore of Point Conception in the Cojo Anchorage. This anchorage is where boats wait for a weather window for rounding the point, which the Coastal Pilot says is called "the Cape Horn of California". A bit of an exaggeration, I think, but rounding this point does require caution and planning. The anchorage provides shelter from waves but not from wind, which is blowing around 15 knots from the NW now, at 9:30pm. Winds are forecast to begin calming around midnight and to be very light tomorrow morning. We'll shoot for raising anchor around 7am.

We left Channel Island Harbor this morning at 7:30am after topping off the diesel tanks at the fuel dock. Diesel cost only $4.40/gallon, less than half what we paid Enrique in Turtle Bay, and about $1.50/gallon less than the average price in Mexico. A welcome relief to my wallet.  It was overcast, foggy and bleak until around 2pm when the sun came out and then it was very pleasant, though cool out in the wind. As we drew closer to Point Conception the wind and seas increased, building to Bashing Level 2 for about an hour.  We had to dodge kelp forests as we entered the anchorage and dropped anchor in 45 feet of water to stay out of the weed.

The highlight of yesterday's passage from Redondo Beach to Channel Island Harbor were the large flocks of shearwaters, pelicans and seagulls together with pods of dolphins enjoying a feast of some type of sea critter. Hundreds of birds floating on the surface, pelicans diving from the air, seagulls harassing, stealing and scavenging food bits, and dozens of dolphins churning the water, all have tons of fun it seemed.

We tied to a public dock in Channel Island Harbor yesterday evening and walked to a seafood restaurant where we had a feast of our own, oysters, fish and chips, salad.

Intermezzo at public dock in Channel Islands Harbor

Assuming our weather window opens tomorrow morning for rounding the point, we'll be in San Louis Obispo Harbor by late afternoon. Luther will be leaving Intermezzo the next morning, leaving me to finish the journey to San Francisco on my own.

Another Easy Passage

Santa Monica Bay, CA

Luther at the helm, Intermezzo under sail

Luther and I enjoyed an easy passage from Newport Beach to Redondo Beach yesterday. The weather was clear, sunny and cool, the seas calm and we even got to sail the last hour-plus of the passage, a nice reach as we turned north to round Point Vincente.

The day started off well with Luther coming up with a good idea of extracting the little kelp bulb that got stuck in the port engine's raw water intake the previous day. I had tried fishing it out of the hose with a coat hanger, getting close but no cigar. Luther suggested using the shop vac to suck it out. We had the little bugger out in no time.

Kelp bulb bugger successfully extracted!

We had to pass by the ports of Long Beach and Los Angeles, which are usually busy with ship traffic, but none of the big ships were moving, all were at anchor or in port. We motored past them and the oil platforms that occasionally flared off gas in a big plume of flame.

Tankers at anchor, Port of Los Angeles

Lots of traffic, but none of the big ships moving

Oil platform off LA

I'm enjoying Luther's company. He's good crew and it's nice having a block of time with just him on the boat, without distractions. We don't get to see each other often nowadays.

In my last post, I mentioned Intermezzo's salon "navigation station". A little elaboration on the set up may be of interest to some. I have an old iPad mounted to the forward window frame that repeats the multifunction display (MFD) at the helm. This is usually set to display radar. I can keep watch visually through the salon windows (almost 360 degrees), augmented by radar. I have my other iPad running Navionics charts for navigation. I also have the PredictWind and Windy weather apps running on this iPad, which, via the Starlink internet connection, give me "live" weather and up-to-date forecasts while underway. I also have a wireless remote for the autopilot. So I can pretty much pilot Intermezzo as I recline on the settee in the salon. I actually make a point of getting up and looking around from the helm station regularly, so as to not get lulled into complacency. Or fall asleep.

Intermezzo's salon "navigation station", charts on the iPad to the left, radar on the iPad to the right

We pulled into Kings Harbor in Redondo Beach just after 4pm as the fog began rolling in. We tied up to a mooring ball with a "slime line". The mooring ball pennant is tied to the bow and then you pull on the slime line to reach another mooring line that you tie to the stern to keep the boat from swinging. They can pack more boats into a mooring field this way, though there were lots of empty spaces.  There is a platform in the middle of the mooring field on which dozens of sea lions lounge about, barking at each other and at anything or anyone that disturbs them.

Redondo Beach mooring configuration, with "slime line"

Redondo Beach is much less fancy than Newport Beach. There didn't look like much to see on shore, it was cold and damp out, so we opted for staying on the boat and enjoying a hot dinner, followed by freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

We detached Intermezzo from the mooring early this morning and headed out into the fog. It's been clearing up since, but still overcast. We're heading to Oxnard, where we'll take a slip at the public dock. It should be a calm, uneventful passage.

It looks like there will be a good weather window for rounding Point Concepcion on July 2. I won't be able to linger there if I want to catch the next patch of calm weather for my overnight single-handed passage to Monterey. Looks like I'll be leaving San Louis Obispo on the evening of July 3.

Not a Bash

Newport Beach Harbor, CA

Intermezzo anchored in the middle of a racecourse

Yesterday's trip from San Diego was definitely not a bash. The weather was beautiful, the seas were calm and, if I didn't have to make an unfamiliar anchorage before nightfall, I could have sailed, downwind (!), half the way to Newport Beach.

We pushed off the San Diego Police Dock at 6am yesterday morning. It was peaceful but overcast and I felt my aloneness as I motored into the main channel, while also feeling good about being underway again after almost a week's shore leave. As we cleared the channel and began rounding Point Loma, the sun rose above the overland cloud cover and bathed the ocean in bright, warm sunlight. My spirits lifted, I doffed my foul weather gear and settled into keeping Intermezzo on course and avoiding traffic along the 64nm rhumbline to the Newport Beach harbor entrance.

By afternoon, the skies cleared completely, the seas had flattened and we were motor sailing under the jib in a light southwesterly wind. No bashing got a bit boring, so I stood watch at the salon "navigation station" and caught up on my reading.

Intermezzo's salon "navigation station"

One thing that happens heading north along the Pacific coast is kelp. We began encountering patches of the thick seaweed around Turtle Bay in Baja and by San Diego it grows in forests. We avoid it by staying offshore and keeping an eye out for floating breakaway clumps. Yesterday, the port engine began spewing steam from the exhaust, indicating a cooling problem. I opened up the engine hatch and, sure enough, there was a little kelp float bulb captured in the raw water intake strainer. Thankfully, the bulb dislodged from the raw water intake piping, cooling water flow was restored, and the engine was back to normal.  I expect we'll run into more kelp when we anchor in Cojo before rounding Point Concepcion. I'm already figuring out how to rig the bread knife on a pole to cut kelp away from the anchor when we raise it.

We arrived at the Newport Beach sea buoy at 5pm and made our way through the busy harbor to the public anchorage. We dropped anchor at 5:45pm, just before the start of the evening's small boat racing regatta that uses the anchorage as a race course.  Intermezzo was a formidable obstacle in the middle of the course, like a small island. Dozens of racing boats swarmed around us, some passing by only a couple feet away. By 7pm it was over and Intermezzo and I had the anchorage to ourselves for a peaceful evening and night's sleep.

Luther arrives in a couple of hours. I'll take the dinghy to go pick him up at a nearby public dock. Newport Beach Harbor is very pleasant, but they have a strange rule for anchored boats. You can only leave your boat unattended once during the day and for not more than three hours. I'm hoping that my trip to pick up Luther doesn't count against my allowance and that we can take a (brief!) shore excursion later this afternoon. 

The Last Leg Begins

San Diego, CA

I begin the last leg of my San Francisco Bash early tomorrow morning, setting sail for Newport Beach where my son Luther will join Intermezzo for a stretch.

I've enjoyed my R&R break here on the Police Dock in San Diego. I've actually been socializing!  I was treated to dinner at the San Diego Yacht Club by my good friend Jerry, who took me sailing on a Tiger 7.5 sport boat the next day. I reunited with Jeanne, who crewed with Renee and I on the 2015 Baja Ha-Ha. And I enjoyed really, really nice cool, sunny weather.

We'll complete the last leg in eight segments:

• San Diego to Newport Beach
• Newport Beach to Redondo Beach
• Redondo Beach to Oxnard
• Oxnard to Cojo Anchorage
• Cojo Anchorage to San Louis Obispo
• San Louis Obispo to Monterey
• Monterey to Half Moon Bay
• Half Moon Bay to San Francisco Bay

Luther will crew as far as San Louis Obisbpo, then I'm on my own unless someone decides to join me. All the segments are day sails, except for San Louis Obispo to Monterey, which is an overnighter.  Two tricky points to round, Point Concepcion and Point Sur. We'll wait in the Cojo Anchorage and probably round Concepcion at night. Point Sur will require careful departure planning to round during calm weather; if conditions aren't good there is nothing else to do but turn around and sail back 60nm to San Louis Obispo.

The weather forecasts look promising. If they hold, I should be in San Francisco Bay on July 9. But we'll see; I'm taking it one segment at a time.

 

Baja Bash Complete!

San Diego, CA

Intermezzo's happy captain and crew upon arrival in San Diego

Intermezzo's Baja Bash is over! We pulled into the San Diego public dock at 8:30am this morning ending the second leg of my voyage back to San Francisco.  We sailed 816nm from Los Cabos over 12 days, including three lay days waiting for a weather window in Man O' War Cove. We burned a lot of diesel fuel.

The trip from Ensenada was uneventful, a patch of mild bashing along the way but otherwise relatively comfortable. We cleared into the United States effortlessly using the Customs and Border Patrol's "Roam" app which notified me on my phone that my trip was approved and the three of us onboard are cleared to enter the US. Arnstein and Jimmy had breakfast and then headed to the airport, Jimmy to fly home, Arnstein to pick up a rental car and drive to Ventura to deliver another boat to San Francisco.

All-in-all it was a good trip, better than I had imagined. We bashed some, but Arnstein timed our passages successfully to minimize pain. Jimmy earned his place among the top crew members who have sailed on Intermezzo. Nothing broke on the boat, nobody was injured, we ate well, we got along well with each other.

I'll take a short break here before leaving on the third and final leg of my San Francisco Bash on June 27th. We've covered over 1,500nm since leaving Puerto Peñasco on May 8th, click here to see our track. Roughly another 440nm to go.

I'm going to take a long walk and stop at a pub to enjoy a craft beer along the way. It will feel good to stretch my legs and be off the boat for a spell.  The weather is beautiful, sunny with a cool breeze.

Last Segment, Second Leg

Pacific Ocean, 20nm NW of Ensenada

We left Ensenada tonight just before 10pm for San Diego, the last segment of the Baja Bash from Los Cabos. We are mildly bashing (BL !) under a near-full solstice moon. There is kelp floating in these waters and we have had to clear the propellers of the weed a few times by running the engines in reverse. We should arrive in San Diego around 9am tomorrow morning.

We pulled into Ensdeana last night at about 8:30pm, ahead of schedule thanks to the little Yammers. We enjoyed a good night's motionless sleep in the Cruiseport marina. This morning we headed to the Port Captain, immigration and customs to check out of Mexico, then enjoyed a nice lunch at Arnstein's favorite taco stand in town. In the afternoon, we cleaned up the boat. We had dinner at Arnstein's favorite restaurant.

It's going to be a big deal for me to be finishing the Baja Bash tomorrow morning. I've been sailing (motoring) since May 8th, many miles under the keels and will have completed two of the three legs of my San Fransico Bash. Intermezzo will be back in the USA and, after a few days rest in San Diego, we'll begin the final leg back to our home port. So much has happened since leaving there in 2015, memories often cause strong feelings to arise, joy, sadness, gratitude, regret, humility. Life sailing Intermezzo  has been full and wholehearted. 

Hell Didn't Break Loose

Pacific Ocean, Off Punta San Antonia, Baja California

Well, hell didn't break loose as we exited the lee of Isla Cedros. The wind blew just below 20 knots, there was a decent swell, but it was only Bashing Level (BL) 2 for an hour or so. We did, however, encounter a rogue wave that rinsed the solar panels, ten feet above the waterline. I ducked and was saved an early morning salt water bath.

We've now passed Punta San Antonio and the Sacramento Reef that lies off the point, where we figured we had one more patch of rough conditions to push through. They didn't materialize and so we've been motoring comfortably in non-bash conditions all day and expect to continue doing so the rest of the way to Ensenada.

ETA Ensenada is 1am Thursday morning. When we get there, after beers and some sleep, we'll officially clear out of Mexico, refuel and get some fish tacos. It's a quick turnaround, though. We depart for San Diego just before midnight to arrive there Friday morning.

So Far, So Good

Pacific Ocean, In the Lee of Isla Cedros, Baja California

We departed Turtle Bay at 6pm as planned and headed out to sea under clear skies, the sun soon to set.

The first four hours were pretty bumpy, Bashing Level (BL) 2, with 20 knot headwinds and steepish 3-foot  seas. When we passed Isla Navidad and turned east to head into the lead of Isla Cedros, the seas were on our beam turning the bashing into recking from side-to-side.

We’ve been in the lee of Cedros now for several hours and enjoying shelter from winds and waves. There is now slight chop on the nose as we approach the northern end of the island, so I’ll call it BL 1, barely.

However once we get past the Cedros, I expect all hell to break loose (exaggeration) as we encounter winds that accelerate around the tip of the island, accompanied by steep wind waves. I’m figuring on Bl 3 for a few hours, then receding to BL 2 for a ways, perhaps less if we’re lucky.

About 12 hours from now we’ll encounter our last gauntlet of wind and waves as we pass Punta San Antonio. That is likely to be a four hour roller coaster ride against a 0.7 knot foul current. The little Yanmars will be earning their $8.90/gallon diesel.

Fuel and Helping Hands

Bahía de Tortugas, Baja California

We anchored in Turtle Bay early this afternoon and immediately made arrangements for fuel delivery. Things were looking good with the fuel, the price per liter was steep but not outlandish and the quantity verified correct. The only problem was we didn’t have pesos to pay for it all; I had planned on paying with a credit cart in Asuncion. We had to pay for about half in dollars at and exchange rate of 15 MXP/USD. Today’s official rate is 18.5. Ouch.

When we arrived a single-hander called us on the radio asking for assistance. His dinghy was damaged on his way here from Ensenada and he needed help getting onto the deck of his boat. When we got there, he broke down, telling us how frightened he was in strong winds and big seas, barely able to control his boat, sails getting twisted up, parts of the boat breaking. He thought he might die. His poor dog lay in the cabin, nearly motionless; it probably thought it was going to die, too. We listened to his story, consoled him, got his dinghy on deck and did our best to sort out his boat so that he could sail it more safely alone. He is clearly in over his head and his boat definitely not set up for single-handing. He told me he was bringing it to haul out in Puerto Peñasco, ending where my bash began. I wished him the best, but expect the journey ahead of him will be a difficult one. 

It looks like 6pm tomorrow is a good time for us to leave to minimize bashing and catch some calmer weather for the long leg to Ensenada. Intermezzo should be back in the USA by Friday.

Pacific Ocean, 50nm SW Bahía de Tortugas, Baja California

Tonight was the worst bashing so far on this Baja Bash, Bashing Level (BL) 3. Strong 20 knot-plus headwinds, steep seas, bows rising into the air, slamming into the sea, water crashing into the forward windows, streaming along the decks, foggy, less than a mile viz, cold, damp. You just want it to be over.

And it is. We’re motoring along on smooth seas,, nearly no wind, making over six knots. It is still very foggy and very damp. Intermezzo has pulled through the bashing well, a little water in an engine bilge, a squeak from a presently unknown source in the rigging, dripping wet outside, coated in dew inside. The little Yanmars are ticking over pleasantly, after muscling their way through wind, waves and a foul current.

We’ll make Turtle Bay early this afternoon, a patch of bashing still to go as we draw near. There we’ll take on fuel, dealing with the “turtle mafia” notorious for under-filling and over-charging for diesel. We’ll wait out weather, currently planning to depart just before midnight tomorrow. It’s one more gauntlet of bashing to run at the start and then it should be calmer conditions the rest of the way. We’re past the halfway mark, but the leg from Turtle Bay to Ensenada is the longest one of the Baja Bash, 290nm distance, over 50 hours underway. 

Arnstein has done a great job in weather analysis and passage planning, solid as a rock on the boat. Jimmy has remained cheerful and energetic, despite sleeping(?) in a levitation chamber at the pitching bows of the boat and dealing with mild bouts of seasickness. As tough as it’s been at times, these two guys have made it way better for me. Feeling grateful.

Baja Bash Resumes

Man O' War Cove, Bahía Magdalena, BCS

PredictWind weather routing, Mag Bay to Turtle Bay- anything not blue or green is bashing

The weather forecast is looking favorable for a departure around noon tomorrow from Mag Bay.

We've revised our passage plan to go about 50nm further on this leg to take advantage of calmer conditions towards its end. Instead of stopping in Asunción for refueling, we'll likely stop in Turtle Bay. Unfortunately there we will have to deal with the "turtle mafia" for fuel delivery and pay a higher price for diesel. But potentially avoiding 10 hours of bashing seems worth it.

This evening we had dinner with the crews of the three other boats anchored with us here in Man O' War Cove. The small restaurant in the village ashore opened just for us and served a buffet of fresh fish, shrimp and lobster washed down with Pacifico beers. We had a good time. We're all departing here within less than 24 hours of each other, so the read on the weather forecast seems pretty consistent among boats.

We had a nice time here, bobbing at anchor in calm waters. We did a little hiking with two local dogs, went on a beach run, explored a mangrove, dug clams (and ate them), checked the engines, repaired a chafed lazy-jack line, made bread, read, made phone calls, slept, napped, showered.

Now we have a two days of sailing ahead of us. There will be bashing. How much and for how long is to be discovered.

Waiting Out Weather

Man O’ War Cove, Bahía Magdalena, BCS

Fishing boat heading with us to Mag Bay

The bashing began at 10pm last night and continued at various levels until we turned into Bahía Magdalena, “Mag Bay” around noon. We’re anchored in Man O’ War Cove, off a small fishing village along with five other boats who are waiting out weather with us before continuing on the next leg of the Baja Bash.

The bashing was no better or worse than I expected. It was better doing it than imagining it. But it was a lot of bashing and there is a lot to go. It’s very tiring. Jimmy and Arnstein soldiered through their watches. I’m very grateful for their help in moving Intermezzo along. I’m also grateful for Intermezzo’s two little Yanmar diesels that thrummed along, giving their all to push through head seas the whole way here.

Nothing much stands out for me from the trip here. This anchorage is pleasant enough and it’s nice to be in flat water even when the wind is blowing.

High winds will keep us here until Saturday. Then we’re back to bashing.

Follow Intermezzo on the Baja Bash

Forgot to mention/remind that you can see where Intermezzo is and our track since leaving Puerto Peñasco at:

https://share.garmin.com/sjcox/

Click on View All when you get there. 

En Route to Man O’ War Cove

10nm SW Punta Pescadero BCS, Pacific Ocean

We left Puerto San Jose del Cabo in the dark at 4:30am this morning to begin Leg 1 of the Baja Bash to Man O’ War Cove in Bahía Magdalena.  We timed our departure to have calmer conditions as we rounded the notorios Cabo Falso at the tip of the Baja California peninsula. Well, to be honest, Arnstein timed our departure and he hit it right on the money.

There was nice northeasterly breeze blowing as we headed southwest to the cape during my watch, so I even got to sail for an hour or so. A final goodbye present from the Sea of Cortez, perhaps. As we approached Cabo Falso, the wind coming from the Sea was overpowered by the wind coming from the Pacific Ocean, veering rapidly clockwise around us to blow from the northwest. The temperature dropped precipitously and I was glad I had put on long pants and a fleece top.

We motored against 13 knot winds with gusts to 18 but the seas were two feet or less and not steep. Bashing Level (BL) 1. Way better than I had feared.

As we rounded the cape, the wind dropped, the wave period increased and we continued under overcast skies in comfortable conditions that have continued. This afternoon it has warmed up a bit, too.

Crew seems happy and comfortable. We are working a “threes and sixes” watch schedule, three hours on watch, six hours off.  It is downright luxury after sailing 710nm singlehanded from Puerto Peñasco. Intermezzo is running nicely, clean and organized.

The forecast has me expecting relatively comfortable conditions (BL 1, periods of BL 2) until perhaps until late tomorrow morning. But then the wind will start piping up and we’ll likely see true speeds in high teens, gusts in the 20’s and steep seas, moderate bashing (BL 3) maybe worse. The sooner we can turn into the shelter of Bahía Magdalena, the better. We’re making good speed at over six knots which helps.

Baja Bash Begins

San Jose del Cabo, Baja California Sur

We leave tomorrow morning at 4am. The real Bash will begin as we round Cabo Falso around 8am.

Arnstein has inspected the boat. Jimmy has been briefed. We are ready to go.

Looks like we have boisterous conditions getting around the cape, a bit of reprieve as we hug the coast heading north, then blustery winds as we approach Bahía Santa Maria.

Then we wait. Strong winds and the heavy seas they create looks like they will keep us in port for five days. We’ll anchor in Man O’ War Cove to have better shelter and more to do ashore than in Bahía Santa Maria.

I’ve not been feeling good about this passage, apprehensive. Now I’m feeling like it’s just something to get done. Safely. Make the most out of it.

Here we go.

Nice Farewells from the Sea of Cortez

Cabo de San Jose, Baja California Sur

Perhaps the Sea of Cortez knew that I was saying goodbye and was sorry to be leaving.

On Monday evening, I took the paddle board to shore and went for a long run along the curved beach of Bahía Los Frailes. I am fond of mobula rays and had been seeing them skimming the surface frequently while sailing, but none doing the aerial acrobatics that I enjoy watching. But as I ran along the beach, the mobula were leaping out of the water, twisting, somersaulting, showing their bright white bellies, flapping their wings, and landing with a big, slapping splash, as if they were waving a exuberant farewells and trying to buoy my spirits. They succeeded. Goodbye mobula, thank you.

Yesterday, the Sea gave me the gift of a nice northeasterly breeze so that I was able to sail most of the way to Cabo de San Jose. The interaction of the boat with the wind and the waves, the absence of engine noise, the simple pleasure of keeping the sails trimmed reminded me of why I love sailing. I didn’t do enough sailing on this trip, haven’t done enough for a long time, won’t be doing much on the next two legs. Goodbye Sea of Cortez, thank you.

We pulled into Puerto San Jose de Cabo in the afternoon where Jimmy was waiting at the slip and joined on as crew. He and I hit it off well from the start; good conversations, shared sense of humor and the right level of seriousness around the boat, sailing and our upcoming passage.

Now we prepare the boat and wait for Arnstein to arrive to begin the Baja Bash.  The weather is looking favorable (in a relative sense) for a Saturday night departure. Wind and waves against us, but of manageable magnitude.

An Interesting Day

Bahía Los Frailes, Baja California Sur

Yesterday was an interesting day.

We weighed anchor at Punta Arena de la Ventana in the morning in the company of a small school of dolphins enjoying their breakfast. Not long afterwards, a small whale appeared, slapping the water with its tail and breaching with big splashes. It was quite a morning treat.

We motored in building southerly winds. As we approached Punta Arena de la Riviera in the early afternoon, roughly halfway, the winds were blowing 15-plus knots with steep, closely spaced 2-foot waves on the nose. We were at Bashing Level (BL) 2, mildly unpleasant, tiring, some spray reaching the helm, occasional water running on the decks. The relentless train of waves would periodically knock boat speed below 3 knots, so I ran both engines until we passed the point and conditions eased to BL 1.5. Another half hour and we were down to BL 1.  The day's bashing ended soon after.

While we were bashing, large schools of flying fish launched from the water evading the large fish just below the surface pursuing them. I felt sorry for the flying fish as birds swooped down on them to pluck them out of the air. Neither water nor air was safe, the only safety was in numbers. Lucky and unlucky flying fish.

I could sense the transition from Sea of Cortez (Gulf of California) to Pacific Ocean, changing water color, temperature and  moisture of the air, an opening up. The dark blue sea met a light powdery blue sky. The purple-grey layers of hills to the west were covered by a haze, like a fine gauze curtain. The sun shone harsh bright white, reflecting off the water in glaring sparkles. It was beautiful and familiar, like a sea home. Tomorrow I will say goodbye to the Gulf, which will be more sad for me than the sadness I felt saying goodbye to La Paz.

I quoted John Steinbeck from his book Log from the Sea of Cortez back in 2017. What he wrote about the Gulf and returning to it resonated with me then and captures why it is so sad and difficult for me to leave now:

And we wondered why so much of the Gulf was familiar to us…Some quality there is in the whole Gulf that trips a trigger of recognition so that in fantastic and exotic scenery one finds oneself nodding and saying inwardly, ‘Yes, I know.’…Trying to remember the Gulf is like trying to recreate a dream. This is by no means a sentimental thing, it has little to do with beauty or even conscious liking. But the Gulf draws one, and we have talked to rich men who own boats, who can go where they will. Regularly they find themselves sucked into the Gulf. And since we have returned, there always is in the backs of our minds the positive drive to go back again. If it were lush and rich, one could undersatnd the pull, but it is fierce and hostile and sullen. The stone mountains pile up to the sky and there is little fresh water. But we know we must go back if we live and we don’t know why.

We pulled into Los Frailes and dropped anchor at 5pm. The small swell from the south bobbed Intermezzo up and down, not uncomfortably when we were pointed into it, a bit rolly when the boat swung at anchor and presented its beam and stern, which it did this morning.

I spent today cleaning up the port cabins and setting them up for crew. One has been serving as a workshop, the other as a storage area. They are both now nice accommodations. I'm going to take the paddleboard to shore after I finish this post and go for a walk on the beach, my last along the shoreline of the Sea of Cortez for who knows how long.

Tomorrow we check into the marina at Puerto Cabo de San Jose, the end of the first leg of my San Francisco Bash, and begin preparing for the second leg, the Baja Bash up the outside of the peninsula.

Punta Arena de la Ventana en route to Los Frailes, Sea of Cortez

On Friday I ended up diverting to the north side of Punta Arena de la Ventana rather than continuing on to Los Muertos as originally planned. The swell, though small, was from the south and Los Muertos is open in that direction. I figured I might be more comfortable in the lee of the point, plus I had never anchored there before.

I anchored on Friday afternoon in 30 feet of water off a sandy beach that stretches for miles in crescent to form Bahía de la Ventana (“Window Bay”), a famous kite- and windsurfing venue due to its strong, predictable winds. I was the only boat there and felt a bit alone and exposed in  the open bay and vast sandy landscape. But I was comfortable. I took a brief swim, drank a beer with a shot of tequila, ate dinner and had a peaceful night’s sleep.

I spend yesterday making arrangements with marinas in Ensenada and San Diego and beginning to plan the third leg of my bash from San Diego to San Francisco. I’m very much hoping my son Luther will join me for at least part of that leg. We haven’t sailed together for eons. I think it would be a nice break for him and I would very much enjoy his company.

Yesterday, late afternoon, the wind died down and I landed the paddleboard on the beach and had a good run along the crescent of sand. I didn’t exercise much in the heat of La Paz. It’s not cool here, but it’s not broiling either.

When I got back to the boat, I refreshed myself with a swim, during which I inspected the propeller anodes that I replaced about a week ago. Not good. They are already beginning to erode. I don’t know why, my stray current measurements all turned out to be insignificant and nothing has changed on the boat, galvanically. I’m beginning to wonder if I have a bad lot of anodes, something not right with metallurgy. I’m thinking of buying a set of expensive Gori (“Gucci”) propeller anodes in San Diego and trying them out.

We left Punta Arena this morning around 7am and am heading to Los Frailes. The light southerly swell continues and Frailes is open to the south, so it may not be as comfortable anchored there. We’ll see. I plan on spending tomorrow at anchor there before continuing on, leaving the Sea of Cortez and taking a slip in Puerto Los Cabos marina for a few days.

Other than the anodes, Intermezzo is performing well. As usual, wind is on the nose. But I didn’t have to tell you that. The wind comes from whatever direction I’m sailing in, no matter the location or season. I’m cursed. My poor little Yanmar motors are always chugging away, never a break.

Goodbye La Paz, My SF Bash Resumes

La Paz, Baja California Sur

I drifted in the anchorage this evening sitting in the dinghy watching the sunset and saying goodbye to La Paz, feeling melancholy. Intermezzo has visited this small city in 2015, 2017, 2018, 2021, 2022, 2023 and presently and I am very fond of it. I don't know when, or even if, we'll be back. Tomorrow we resume my San Francisco Bash and head to Los Muertos, the first of two stops on the way to Los Cabos. We will soon be bidding farewell to the Sea of Cortez and ending the first leg of the Bash.

Robin and I enjoyed a week together, spending most of it anchored in Caleta Partida, a favorite anchorage between Isla Espiritu Santo and Isla Partida. While La Paz was baking in over 100 degree F days, we enjoyed more reasonable temperatures in the mid-80's. We got a few boat projects done, including the permanent installation of the Starlink dish, re-lacing the trampoline, and replacing the blown-out propeller anodes. Robin made good progress on ridding the cockpit and "lanai" are of boatyard dirt, dust and grime but there is still much more cleaning to be done.

La Paz was still baking when we returned and continues to do so. It's really hot.

Yesterday was full of mistakes. In the morning, I drove Robin to the airport in Cabo, but plugged the wrong airport into Google Maps, not realizing my mistake until we were caught in rush hour traffic there and had to crawl our way to the correct route. When I got back to La Paz, I accidentally ran a stop sign with a motorcycle cop right behind me which cost me some pesos.   Later I left my debit card in the ATM when I went to the grocery store. Ugh.

On a more pleasant note, I visited my good friends Johan and Barbara yesterday evening, catching them just before they leave for a trip to Italy. I walked the 4.5 miles to and from their place in the heat. It was good exercise, but sweaty.  I really enjoy my friendship with them and glad that we could get together, even if only briefly.

La Paz is rich with favorite places and memories for me. Dulce Romero's for croissants, Sorstis and Nim for nice dinners, Doce Cuarenta for coffee, the malecón for walking and sunsets, Aramburo for groceries, Marina de La Paz and its cruiser community, Sea Otter Jimmy the outboard guru, George of s/v Thalia, all the small hardware and marine stores scattered around town, Marina Palmira, Intermezzo's home in 2018. The town has grown since my first visit in 2015 and is gentrifying, for better and for worse, but remains one of my favorite cities in the world.

I've been in contact with my crew for the second leg of the trip, the Baja Bash. Jimmy will join the boat on June 4 and Arnstein on June 7.  We'll be sailing 760nm together, uphill. I'm definitely looking forward to having able-bodied sailors on board for that leg, which we'll complete as quickly as weather permits.

Goodbye, La Paz.

Taking a Break in La Paz

La Paz, Baja California Sur

We sailed from Isla San Francisco to La Paz in two hops, stopping in Ensenada la Gallena on Isla Espíritu Santo the night before last. There we were overrun by a swarm of bees who I feel took advantage of my good nature towards them. There were hundreds on the boat, maybe a thousand, landing on every source of moisture they could find.  One followed a drop of sweat down my back into my shorts. I slowly removed my shorts as I spoke reassuringly to the bee. I looked up and a tour boat of Mexican tourists had come by to admire Intermezzo. What they saw was a gringo with his pants pulled down seemingly talking to his perineum.  The tour guide quickly left at high speed.

After that, I didn’t leave the cabin until the sun went down and they flew off back to their hive.

Yesterday morning I got up at dawn when I heard a few bees buzzing about to get the hell out of Bee Town. By the time I weighed anchor, they were everywhere, on me, one in my ear, all on their never ending quest to find water. As they realized the boat was moving away from their home, they flew off, hovering for a moment above the boat as if to say goodbye. As much as they are a bother and took advantage of me, I still like them.

We arrived in La Paz late morning and dropped anchor in our usual spot.  I then set about trying to track down the stray current (ground fault, earth leak) that is eating up my propeller anodes at an astonishing rate. The testing procedure involves using a multimeter to measure voltage, resistance and current in circuits to find out if some electrons are escaping the boat into the water and, if so, from where. It took me a while to get my head around the theory and I kept on making mistakes while testing in the blazing hot sun.

This morning, I resumed testing in slightly cooler conditions and concluded that there was leakage from the engine electrical systems. Two possibilities eliminated.

Next I disconnected the two flexible solar panels that came with the boat and don’t seem to do anything so that I had one less device to worry about. Before I disconnected them, I measured their voltage output at only 1.5 volts. While  didn’t note the before condition, when I looked at the battery monitor after disconnecting the panels, the main solar panels were charging the boat at higher rate than I have ever seen before in similar conditions. It seems that the flexible panels weren’t just not generating any power, they were sucking it up. I’m glad to be rid of them. I’m hopeful that they might be the source of my stray current, though assigning any likelihood of this is beyond the limits of my knowledge of electricity.

Next I’ll measure the house battery system to see if I discover any leakage. That’s a more complicated diagnosis.

Meanwhile, Robin arrives this afternoon and I’ll be taking a break from my San Francisco Bash (and blogging) while she’s here for about a week.

Electronic Device Dependency

Isla San Francisco, Sea of Cortez

We’re anchored just off the beach of beautiful Isla San Francisco. I spent yesterday morning resting, after the overnight passage here from Puerto Escondido, and the afternoon doing boat chores and troubleshooting the not-working Multi Function Device (MFD, aka chartplotter). I had a nice swim in between.

The passage here was uneventful. Forecast westerly and northwesterly winds never materialized (surprised?) which would have allowed us to sail. Instead it was motoring, again. Particularly painful after shelling out $400 for diesel in Puerto Escondido to refill the tanks; 230 liters (61 gallons) burned getting there from Puerto Peñasco. Diesel fuel in Mexico is over $6 per gallon, thanks to a mostly nationalized petroleum industry, virtually no competition and price fixing, all of which are exacerbated at marine fuel docks.  If only the atmosphere would cooperate with my sailing plans, I would put far less CO2 into it and save money.

I had to navigate and pilot Intermezzo differently on the trip here due to the balky MFD. It wasn’t difficult or risky, just different, like borrowing someone else’s computer. It works fine, does the job, but isn’t set up like yours is. I supplemented the working MFD with the independent Navionics navigation app on my iPad. I had to transfer the positions of waypoints manually, but that was really the only difference and I got comfortable with the improvised system by mid-journey.

The funny thing is that I have sailed this route at least a half-dozen times. It runs between the Baja peninsula and off-lying islands, so lots of landmarks to navigate by and the few hazards are easily located and avoided. On top of that, a waxing gibbous moon was out and providing plenty of light by which to navigate. So I really didn’t need any electronic devices. I didn’t even need a compass. I could have safely navigated here with just a paper chart and my eyeballs.  My angst over one (of four) electronic navigation devices being down is clearly a symptom of Electronic Device Dependency (EDD), a diagnosis I propose be added to the Diagnosis and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (the infamous DSM).

The good news is that I diagnosed and fixed the malfunctioning MFD, providing symptomatic relief of my angst though not my EDD. Finding the solution was not a straightforward process. I’ll briefly summarize the steps I took to paint a picture of the winding path.

Intermezzo has two MFDs, MFD 1 and MFD 2. MFD 1 would not boot up and function, MFD 2 was working properly. Since I have a spare MFD, I swapped it in for MFD 1; it didn’t boot up either. So, I reinstalled MFD 1 to maintain constant conditions. The MFDs are connected to each other and the radar through a network switch. The switch was receiving data from all three devices. I plugged the network cables into different sockets on the switch; no change. I visited the Raymarine online tech forum and found  troubleshooting steps for the symptoms I was observing. Following these steps, I checked all the power connections to the devices and found no evidence of loose connections or corrosion. I unplugged the radar from the network; the problem persisted. I deleted track data; no change. The next steps would be to do factory resets on the devices; I wasn’t willing to take the risk of doing that and possibly messing up the working MFD 2 and radar. I put the troubleshooting steps aside and returned first principles of troubleshooting, basic logic.

I knew that MFD 2 worked by itself and with the radar. Would MFD 1 work by itself? I tried and it did, also playing nicely with  radar. So that meant the problem must be in the communication between MFD 1 and MFD 2. But the network switch connecting seemed to be working and MFD 1’s screen showed me that some data was getting transferred between the two devices, even if MFD 1 wasn’t working right. Hmmmmmm…What changed since MFD 1 was last working properly? I had started running Starlink for an internet connection while underway, while the MFDs were on; hadn’t done that before. The refrigerator was recharged with refrigerant; that can cause the compressor to have to work harder, causing boat-wide voltage fluctuations. And I had updated the Navionics chart chip that provides cartography for the MFDs.

I turned the fridge off; no change. I turned Starlink off; no change. I removed the Navionics chart chip; both MFDs worked properly! (Albeit, without any cartography with seriously reduces their usefulness!) So, the chip was the problem. I updated the chip contents via the internet (thank you Starlink…I can’t bring myself to thanking Elon Musk), inserted it into MFD 2 and, voilà, we’re back in business!

Who would have thought that a chart chip installed in one device (MFD 2) would prevent another connected device from booting up? It’s as if you opened a word processor document on your computer and it stopped your printer from turning on. But further research online (Facebook, of all places!) reveals that, indeed, Navionics chips can stop Raymarine MFDs from booting up. I am not alone.

So that problem is solved. But I have a new one. (Surprised?)

When I went swimming yesterday, I dove under the boat to look at the props and sail drives. To my astonishment, the sacrificial anodes on the props are 50% gone in just nine days of being in the water! Usually it takes three or more months for them to get eaten up this much. Intermezzo clearly has a stray current problem. Unfortunately I lack a reference cell anode to check this. So I will need to be resourceful to find the leaking electricity. I can’t think of anything that has changed since we were last in the water, so this is a real puzzle.

Meanwhile, I am enjoying my surroundings. The weather is hot and humid during the day, but made bearable by staying in the shade, fans in the cabin and swimming. It cools off nicely at night. Very light or no breeze. The boat is covered in dew in the morning, much to the pleasure of the bees who come on board to drink it. I’ve learned to coexist with bees on the Sea of Cortez, I actually enjoy their visits, though I’m careful not to step on them, the only time I have ever been stung. I put out water for them where they won’t get in my way and they seem to enjoy the gesture and don’t bother me.

The seawater is crystal clear, I can see stingrays clearly on the bottom, 20 feet below the boat. A big school of juvenile fish is sheltering under the boat. There must not be food for pelicans because they aren’t here, but a pesky seagull is trying hard to claim the solar panels as his territory. There are a few other boats in the anchorage, including a large, ugly “party yacht”, complete with a water slide, but everyone is keeping quiet and civilized. 

Today I’m going to head about halfway towards La Paz, stopping overnight in Bahía La Gallena at Isla Espíritu Santo, about four hours away. Less than two weeks left to enjoy the Sea of Cortez and then begin the Baja Bash. It’s going to be painful to say goodbye to this place that I love.

Marina Puerto Escondido

Puerto Escondido, Baja California Sur

El Gigante, the beautiful mountain that looms over Marina Puerto Escondido

If Intermezzo has a home port in Mexico, it's Marina Puerto Escondido. I really like this place. It is immaculately maintained and the surrounding scenery is gorgeous. Such quality comes at a price, however. I've been priced out of getting a slip here and even a mooring ball, at $42 per night is expensive compared to anchoring out. Still, I love the place.

I swapped out the malfunctioning MFD (see previous post) this afternoon. The problem persisted, so it must be a data network issue. I'm doing some research. I might try plugging the device into a different socket in the network switch. I want to be careful and not make the problem worse.

It's hot here. I hiked this morning and it was bearable.  I sweltered a bit this afternoon. It's very warm in the boat tonight as I write this. La Paz is supposed to be even hotter.

There is a fishing tournament taking place with over a dozen very expensive sportfishing boats up from Cabo. Not my thing, but impressive equipment.

Partying the night before the fishing tournament

I'll leave here tomorrow afternoon after refueling and sail overnight to Isla San Francisco.

I was lucky and secured a slip in San Jose del Cabo for the few days prior to the Baja Bash, convenient for crew rendezvous, fueling and provisioning. Marinas in Mexico are all at capacity and it's rare to find a slip for a catamaran.

I also signed the paperwork for my slip in San Francisco Bay. Right back where Intermezzo started, on F-Dock at Marina Bay Yacht Harbor. Full circle.

Bashing Level 2, Pranked

Sea of Cortez, en route to Puerto Escondido

We’re on our way to Puerto Escondido, one of my favorite stops in the Sea of Cortez and where Intermezzo has spent several hurricane seasons laid up ashore. The weather is pleasant, conditions are calm and the engine is pushing us along at over 6 knots.

Yesterday was a day of bashing against 10-15 knot headwinds and a decent chop from Punta Chivato to San Juanico. Since I’m going to be doing a lot of bashing on this voyage, I have established a metric, the Bashing Level (BL). The BL is a number from zero to five, zero being no bashing at all, five meaning a painful, boat-jarring, bone-rattling, spray-flying, we-want-to-get-off level of bashing. Yesterday was, at worst, a BL 2, with the boat pounding against and being slowed down by head seas, spray occasionally hitting the front windows. Unpleasant, but not uncomfortable.

I’m very happy to report that my repair to the starboard hull-deck joint, part of the “10 Year Refit”, seems to be a success. This joint has leaked a little or a lot ever since I’ve owned the boat, despite several prior attempts at repair. The worst leakage occurred when we were rounding Cabo Corrientes last year and the contents of the starboard lockers were soaked. We’ve always had at least a little water on the sole of the starboard head, a constant nuisance.  What I discovered was that when the boat’s builder was joining the hull to the deck, they had to install temporarily screws to hold the joint together until the epoxy adhesive cured. They then removed these screws and filled them with caulk. A combination of gaps in the joint adhesive and shrinking caulk resulted in several pathways for water to enter the boat. I epoxied the entire length of the joint, pulled out all the caulk from the screw holes (56 of them!) and filled them with epoxy. I also replaced the gasket for the hatch above the starboard head. I tested the repair with a strong hose stream at the boatyard and had no leakage. Yesterday was a real life test, albeit only BL 2.  I expect BL’s to be three and above during the Baja Bash. Then we’ll really know if I finally have a dry boat.

I have mounted the Starlink antenna so that I can be connected to the internet while underway, a blessing and a curse. I got a bit bored yesterday while bashing and started scrolling through my Facebook feed on my phone. Earlier, I had connected my phone to the boat’s stereo system to listen to music and had the volume turned up fairly high to overcome the noise of the engine. I stopped listening to the music, but never disconnected the phone audio or turned down the volume. As I was scrolling Facebook, all of a sudden it sounded like the boat was being attacked by orcas, or a propeller was falling off, or the boat was breaking itself into bits.  I was scared out of my wits  and just about started investigating when I realized that I had paused my scrolling on a video of a guy banging trash can lids (for a reason, but no need for me to explain here). The audio from the video was playing at loud volume through the boat’s speakers. The noise was not orcas, propellers, or boat disintegration. Banging trash can lids!  False alarm, quite a relief. It only lasted a few seconds, but I had been duly pranked.

Last night we anchored in La Ramada cove in San Juanico, a small, pretty and sheltered anchorage shared with two other boats. To have some distance from the other boats, I anchored a little closer than comfortable to an outcropping of rocks to the east. Last night the wind blew strong from the west, making the rocks a lee shore. I’m very confident in my anchor and ground tackle, but since there was only about 300 feet between Intermezzo and the rocks, I set an anchor alarm that would wake me up if we started dragging. I slept soundly.

Intermezzo has two Multi-Function Devices (MFDs), commonly referred to as chartplotters. One of them is clearly on the blink, requiring multiple cycles to boot up every morning. Once it boots up, it works fine, but I’m getting tired of waiting for it to wake up and am concerned about its reliability. Fortunately, I have a spare and it’s not difficult to swap out. That will be tomorrow’s project while hanging off a mooring in Puerto Escondido.

Wind Model Routing a Joke

Punta Chivato, Baja California Sur

Sunset at anchor in Ensenada El Muerto, Punta Chivato

The wind models and PredictWind routing turned out to be complete busts. I headed 10nm further offshore than the rhumb line between Bahía San Francisquito and Punta Chivato yesterday morning to catch afternoon westerly winds. No such winds materialized. I motored into light southerlies, looking forward to the 10-15 knot westerlies forecasted for the evening and night. All we got were some feeble 5 knot wafts. 

Just after midnight, likely due to a combination of boredom and fatigue, I decided that the mainsail had aired out doing nothing long enough and dropped it. Just after I got the sail and lines stowed, the wind piped up to 12 knots for a beautiful beam reach. A few swear words may have got mixed in to my lighthearted chuckling.  Up went the sails again, off went the engines and we enjoyed three hours of peaceful sailing. The winds lightened up and we sailed most of the time at under 4 knots, a perfect speed for arriving at the Punta Chivato anchorage after sunrise.

We dropped anchor here at 6:25am. I did some post-passage straightening up and had a snooze until 11:30. After coffee and a light breakfast, I got the boom gooseneck to stop its infernal creaking by shortening the topping lift, then tried to get the outboard to run right. No luck with the latter, but I think it will be good enough to ferry back and forth to docks in La Paz and San Jose de Cabo and to haul fuel jugs on the Baja Bash. That's all it has to do. Maybe I can get Sea Otter Jimmy, the local small engine guru,  to look at it in La Paz.

Intermezzo's track to-date. Follow at https://share.garmin.com/sjcox/

We've sailed 303nm so far and have crossed the halfway point to Cabo. I'm enjoying being back on Intermezzo and in the Sea of Cortez. The weather is lovely, sunny and just-hot in the afternoons, cool enough for a blanket at night. I love the remoteness of this sea and the wildlife. As I keep pressing onward, I remind myself to take it all in, appreciate the beauty, acknowledge that I might never be back, be grateful for how lucky I am.