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.