Cruise Log #21, Santa Rosalia to Bahia de Los Angeles
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July 23rd to August 15th
Updated 6 September, 2005.
Route map from Santa Rosalia to Bahia de Los Angeles.
SolMate is closing on the summer cruising grounds of Bahia de Los Angeles (BLA), where Puerto
Don Juan will provide a refuge from hurricanes, and the village of Bahia de Los Angeles will
provide provisions. Twenty to forty cruising boats are expected to congregate around BLA
this hurricane season. We'll be flitting hither and yon around the bay for the
next couple of months, visiting the twenty anchorages that are within striking distance of
both protection and food.
This leg of our journey covered 130 miles. We only stopped at six different anchorages, but it
still took us three weeks to finally drop anchor off the village of Bahia de Los Angeles.
Just six miles up the coast from Santa Rosalia, in Caleta Santa Maria, a rip-roaring elefante
produced an overnight episode of "Sleepless in SolMate." Elefantes (aka Santa Anas or Chinooks)
scream downslope from the west - dry,
hot, katabatic winds that can build up quite a head of steam, from out of nowhere. Sitting
behind the Santa Maria loading dock, lethargically sipping our beers and watching a steamer take on a
load of gypsum, our gentle, cooling easterly suddenly morphed into a honking, hot westerly.
One minute we were lounging in the cockpit supervising the steamer's crew, the next minute we'd
swung 180 degrees and SolMate was straining at her anchor chain, stretched out to its max.
The wind-o-meter readings hovered in the high twenties, occasionally sneaking up into the thirties,
all night long. We were nervously up and down the companionway all night - Stan gave up and
catnapped in the cockpit with Gale. It wasn't the gypsum conveyers running the whole night,
squeaking and groaning, that kept us wide-eyed - it was the concrete pylons threatening SolMate's
beautiful bum just 300 yards downwind.
A positive note, the elefante carried the huge dust cloud boiling off the conveyor
out to sea. SolMate was grit-free when we escaped Santa Maria early the next morning.
Clearing the pylons and rocks, we breathed a sigh of relief as we headed out to the safety of open water,
little knowing that our next stop was going to produce yet another "Sleepless"
episode.
Loading gypsum into the hold in Santa Maria, downwind of our anchorage in the elefante.
Our stop at Punta Trinidad not only included an elefante repeat, but the
wind gods teamed up with the sea gods and threw in a lumpy southerly swell to peg the discomfort
meter. After our close encounter with rocks and pylons the night before, we parked SolMate way,
way out in the bay, clear of anything that could go bump in the night. From the back forty,
we only left the mother ship once, braving the swell in our trusty little
dinghy for an exploratory trek ashore. We were able to beach the dinghy behind a protective
hook near the point - waves were breaking all the way around the rest of the bay, but we managed
to scoot into shore in a quiet corner where
the local fishermen camped - they'd already launched
their pangas and gone fishin'.
By day two in Punta Trinidad the swells had grown to an occasional eight footer, rocking us
rail to rail.
Wallowing around on the anchor
wasn't much fun, so we beat feet 40 miles up the coast to San Francisquito, where we enjoyed
a welcome relief from wind and sea.
Fish camp in the corner of Bahia Trinidad. SolMate is
the
teeny-tiny white speck way off in the distance.
SolMate joined seven other cruisers in Bahia San Francisquito, 65 miles north of Santa
Rosalia. The cozy inner bay provided one
of the most protected anchorages we've enjoyed thus far. Because of the bumpy seas,
it was jam-packed - we weren't the only ones looking for uninterrupted sleep. It was so
crowded, we were prepared to anchor outside in
the big bay, but then we received a personal invitation to join the crowd...with valet parking.
As we approached San Francisquito, SolMate was skipping and jumping along under her
poofy blue and yellow sail, 18 knots of breeze and following seas - one of those days
when we were wishing we could keep on sailing. However, when
the bay opened up to port, we reluctantly doused the spinnaker. As soon
as we turned toward San Francisquito, broadside to the swell, the going got rough, and
the swell was refracting clear into the main bay, breaking on the beach right where we had planned
to anchor.
Fortuitously, as we were eyeballing the beach, Darryl on Overheated called to tell us that they
could make
room for us inside the inner bay if we wanted to snuggle up and enjoy the calm. Heck, yes!
He buzzed out to meet
us and then escorted us through the skinny opening and the maze of boats already anchored
inside. We thankfully settled in for a week of group
hiking, paddling, snorkeling, card games, and movies - plus special entertainment provided by the
Mexican Navy.
A strange little Navy boat frequented the inner bay...strange looking and acting, especially their
anchoring technique, which consisted of throwing a Danforth off the stern and then letting out just
enough rode for the anchor to touch the bottom. They seemed so surprised when they didn't stick and
the current carried them
away. Darryl, always helpful, paid them a visit as they were floating by in frustration.
He tried to explain
the concept of "scope," letting out enough
rode to allow the anchor to bury itself in the sand. They didn't get it (Darryl's Spanish is
nonexistent)...they just kept
dragging that anchor around until they finally gave up and sheepishly chugged thier funny
little boat out of the bay.
There was also a little Army camp in San Francisquito. The story going around was that
these guys were part of a drug interdiction force. The rest of the story was that a bunch
of drug thugs had recently killed four of them during an operation just a little way down
the coast. Thankfully, the most action we saw around their camp was on their rocky little
soccer field.
The Mexican Navy practicing their anchoring skills in
front of the Army's beachfront
soccer field.
SolMate finally extricated herself from San Francisquito's fun and games and deep sleeps, and headed off to Isla Salsipuedes. We nosed into the little island's two southern anchorages, but found them very confining, steep cliffs with big hard rocks all around...too spooky, so we opted out and headed around to the north cove. The north cove felt a little better, like there was a little more wiggle room, so that's where we dropped the hook...at high tide. After the hook was set, Stan snorkeled around the boat to check out the black shadows underwater. He discovered a whole string of rocks right off our stern. It was weird seeing him stand on top of them, waist-deep, so close to the boat, but it was even weirder when those jaggedy nasty things poked out of the water as the tide receded. Thankfully, the weather stayed calm all night so we were never in any danger, but we left the next morning. Eyeballing the wind and the current pushing us towards those hungry rocks all night long was too stressful.
Rocks behind SolMate in Isla Salsipuedes (salsipuedes, meaning "leave
if you can," referring to the
current rather than the rocks).
One night in Salsipuedes was quite enough for us - we caught the incoming tide the next morning and rode it ten miles north to a nice roomy bay of soft sand on the north side of little Isla Partida. Ah, the kind of place we like to settle into... big curving bay, lots of room and protection, and nice clear-water. We snorkled the bay and hiked on the island - Stan even helped the carnivores on Rhythmic Breeze gather their dinner. He also learned how to clean and prepare seafood for the frying pan. One never knows when that skill may come in handy. Then the swell came up, the anchorage got bumpy (hm, is this a familiar theme?) and we moved our entourage to Puerto Don Juan.
Don Juan is an enclosed natural harbor with a dogleg entrance protecting it. The bay can accommodate about 30 to 40 boats with lots of swinging room...a good thing because this is where we'll all gather in case a hurricane decides to visit the northern Baja. Twelve boats ducked into Don Juan with us - the swell came up and they all bailed out of the less protected anchorages nearby. A bunch of cruisers gather, what do we do? potluck on the beach, with Milagro, Dos Brisas, Overheated, Scarlett O'Hara, Rhythmic Breeze, Sarana, Sea Angel, Crystal Wind, Narwal, Mandan, Iwa, Spirit, and Dream Weaver (or some combination, there-of) in attendance. They bent over backward to cook up vegetarian dishes - Rita's carrot cake was the topper.
