They Had a Big Adventure ... cont.
...CABO TO L.A.
After night closed in, and it got quite cold, we moved to the lower station.
Out of the wind it seemed better for a brief while, but with the pounding 6
ft. waves and bucking up and down, I started to feel very ill and was soon
seasick. Graham took over while I deposited everything I had into a plastic
jug, and retired to the bunk in the main salon. At the end of Graham's 2
hr. watch I tried to relieve him, but everytime I stood up I was violently
sick, so Graham continued. At the point of his exhaustion -10 hrs.
straight of steering the boat, I had to take over to try and let him get
some sleep. Those few hours were as bad as I can recall to that point and I
was wracked with dry retching and my stomach and shoulder muscles were just
cramped.
We survived the night but next morning, with 60nm to go and closest landfall
at about 50nm, Graham asked if I could take a look below the morse controls,
as there was smoke seeping up. I grabbed a torch and went into the bow
cabin locker and when I opened it, was repulsed by a toxic smoke. I ran to
the fire extinguisher, then grabbed the EPIRB - not quite knowing if I
should activate and if so, which one. We then agreed we should lift the
flooring over the engines and when this throat clutching smoke had cleared
some, I was able to see the starboard battery box had pulled off the rotten
plywood and the box with the 3 batteries had fallen into the bilge floor
where the wires had touched and were burned all the way back to the
breakers. For some reason the breakers didn't trip and the fire did not
ignite anything else, despite running through ply partitions, nor stop any
systems!
So once more 'Graham' to the rescue. While I reduced speed and tried to
keep us heading into the waves, Graham righted the battery box and taped
some of the wires. We continued on to Mag Bay as we were to thirds of the
way, believing we would surely get help there. Another thing of interest
which we didn't find out about until later, was that our Single Side Band
radio is not relaying correctly. We can hear callers, but our relays are
garbled, so even if we'd had to use a MAYDAY or SECURITE call, it may have
been unintelligible. VHF might have worked if boats had been close enough,
but we had not seen any on that stretch.
So, wearily we made it into Mag Bay just on dusk. 'Chief', the boat we had
expected to see, had moved on, so we weren't sure of the anchorage. The bay
has many shoaled areas, so we tried to keep to the channel and then head
directly to the little township of Magdalena. We anchored in calm water and
promptly retired as both of us were exhausted.
Next morning Graham began to assess the damage and list the repair materials
he thought would do the job. We had little idea how we'd get the stuff -
our best hope seemed to launch the dinghy and head for San Carlos, 30 miles
away. While we were deciding, a large Panga, with worn lettering 'Capitan
Del Puerto' approached our boat. It was the Port Captain and he'd come to
check our paperwork. This much I gathered, though he spoke no English. I
explained our problem and in my limited Spanish, told him we needed 14G
marine cable, tape etc. He shrugged as if to say, 'so what', then had an
inspiration! 'Mi esposa en San Carlos'! As she was returning that
afternoon, he would radio to her to see if she could get the materials. His
radio wasn't working and his outboard wouldn't start, but finally he got to
shore and made the call and miraculously the parts arrived at 2.00 p.m.,
along with a huge (and I mean HUGE - 2 feet long/wide) Squid! So while
Graham rewired - he'd remounted the battery box on new ply during our wait -
I cleaned the squid which was enough for about 6 meals. We dubbed the Port
Captain 'St. Gregory' and gladly showed him our papers and paid him for
everything.
Another aspect of this drama which needs to be told is that during our
sojourn in La Paz, Graham contributed his reading glasses to the
sight-impaired somewhere around town. Most likely in one of the several
shops he visited, hellbent on getting the best gifts for his family. Or
perhaps he was still in shock somewhat as he had previously faced the
prospect of residing permanently 'en Mexico'! During port formalities,
which included a visit to the immigration authorities to get clearance to
continue to Ensenada/San Diego, Graham had been unable to locate his tourist
Visa, which as I'd previously pointed out was more valuable than his
passport in clearing the country. Fixing burned cables, leaking engines
whatever, didn't bring him out in anything like the sweat pouring forth as
he frantically searched his paraphanalia for the elusive document. All in
vain! - He even mildly suggested he'd given it to me for safe keeping and
any body that knows my filing system (as you do only TOO well) would say he
would be a bigger fool just suggesting that!
I know God forgives (white) lies when you're helping your helper, so I came
to his rescue and rather adeptly (almost as if I was practiced in the art!)
suggested that 'Mi Amigo had not had his visa returned by the last looker'!
Despite some consternation, and a statement in Spanish that sounded like
'He's a liar, but his explanation is passable,' he and his supervisor signed
us out and a much relieved Snr. Graham was on his way.
SO, all of his intricate rewiring was done by FEEL not SIGHT. It causes one
to wonder whether he's done this sort of thing in the dark before, or just
all that practice under the bed clothes.
Next morning we were ready to roll - again, and you'd better believe it! We
were only proposing to go about 20 miles up the coast to what was supposed
to be a magical bay. Scallops, oysters, crays etc. Well, we made it
without any problems, but a S.E. swell of 8 ft - 10 ft. was roaring in,
creating its own spindrift and wind, and breaking on the rugged shoreline.
Another yacht had stayed overnight but was now standing off as he had
dragged his anchor and kept watch all night and didn't want a repeat. Had
he known, as he was southbound he could have tucked into Mag Bay where it
was tranquil - no waves, no wind. I was feeling great, but it was too late
to start out for Turtle Bay and intermediate bays, so took a break and
prepared for an early start.
Dawn was just breaking as we rounded the head in company with another
trawler - 'Patience' - single engine, 6-7 knots, sturdily built. They had
flopper stoppers to help against the swells in the bay but had hoped for
more relief, as their crew had been horribly seasick too, coming from Cabo.
They were choosing a direct route to Turtle Bay - we were going to do it
in 3 hours (as it turned out it must have worked for them - unless they
sank - as we didn't see them again!) We turned northwards at the point,
which brought us beam on, to our destination of Juanico. The seas were
quite confused, but then one of the swells picked us up, about 10 ft and we
started to slide down the other side in the broach position.
Rarely have I made an executive decision more quickly. I said to Graham,
notwithstanding another overnighter, we were heading to Abrejos or
Ascuncion, which would head us into the waves. During that night we reset
our course for the more northerly Ascunsion Bay, but somehow we didn't point
up high enough and next morning at dawn I realised we were too far south and
headed past Abrejos and then on to Ascuncion.
Now to put this into perspective.
When I talked to Jim Ploughman about maritime charts, for the price of
dinner he said I could have all of his, including the Sea of Cortez, up as
far as San Francisco. When I pulled these out, chart by chart en route,
there was a gap from Mag Bay to Ensenada. I was aware of two rather
detailed road maps retrieved from the crashed Cadillac and sure enough, they
had long/lats which I had to use, guestimating the intermediate coordinates.
Truth is, this was the only time we miscued. Ingenious, eh?! Stupid, YES!!
So at Ascuncion, we waited out the day because we'd read in Charlie's charts
that fueling at Turtle Bay was the most exciting activity offered in the
remote township. AND SO IT PROVED! We watched the previous vessel power
away from the pier, narrowly avoiding damage to its sterm. I'd determined
we would take our time and reverse in slowly to the steel piers, after
setting the hook well out. I took forever, much to the amusement and
annoyance of the fuelers. After tossing stern lines up, we were thrown the
fuel hose and nozzle and had started to fuel (the nozzle was too large for
the aperture which meant it was slow going) when everybody started shouting
and hollering. The stainless steel anchor had lifted and AKII was flailing
its swim platform and transom on the piers. The fuel hose had to be thrown
up, the boat pushed off, the engines started, the anchor pulled - it seemed,
all at the same time. Fortunately some of the amused onlookers fended off
and I started the motors while Graham hauled chain and with only some
bruising and paint scrapes, departed the wharf, and so we started all over
again, with more rode and as much care in the swelly conditions, to try and
get stern to and fuel up. It took about an hour in all and then we anchored
out and I took a Panga in to get some fresh provisions and fax home. Graham
kindly gave me his phone number to fax - not very helpful, at a cost of US$6
a minute - so Mum got a confusing fax addressed to Smiths phone #, thinking
it was relayed by Helen who had actually never received it. (Helen's
birthday greetings from Graham!) Then the sole Panga operator believed he
was on a sure thing and demanded US$10 for the 1 km journey to the boat.
Little alternative but to pay the 'Bandito' - my remonstrations failed to
convince him he was injuring Mexico's unblemished, uncorrupted tourist
industry. Another interesting thing about the refuelling was their payment
system. Before they'd cast you off, they tossed into the water a can with a
lid on it with a string through the bottom, into which you placed the money
(almost US$200 in notes) and then they hauled it up, checked it and released
the mooring lines. It seems its been this way since Magellan crossed the
Straits and will continue no doubt.
All the while I'm getting more impatient as we needed to make Cedros Island
that day. Graham had everything ready to go when I clamboured on board,
cursing and dusty from my long walk through town. We were soon underway and
too soon in turbulent broken seas off the mainland between two islands. We
were pointing into the waves - not really the direction we needed to go, but
to try avoiding the rolling around and beating to the boat which it was
taking. Graham was at the helm and found it very tricky, admitting when we
finally got across that it was the worst stretch of seas he'd ever had to
navigate. So every time he got a break in the wave pattern he'd lay it off
as quickly as he could, to get pointed to the island. Just when it looked
as if we were on our way to Japan or Hawaii, the seas gave some ground and
we made the calmer water and were able to make Cedos town and anchored invery rolly seas for the night.
Things seem to be a bit better after a shot of Tequila and some dinner, so
we headed to bed - Graham exhausted from his adventures had already got a
head start at the dinner table!
After an hour's deep sleep, I woke with every nerve in my body 'alive' and
my skin scalding hot. I scratched and itched like a person possessed and
then realised my extremities were swelling. My face and mouth started to
tighten, my eyes closed and my tongue thickened. I decided I'd get up and
have a look in the head mirror to see what was happening, since my breathing
was becoming restricted. Not much to see through slitted eyes, but I also
felt whoozie and nauseous and when I stood up I 'flaked out'. I awoke to
find I was wedged in the doorway and knowing I was in trouble, groped my way
back to bed, but collapsed again into the pile of deck chairs stacked in the
bedroom, as we'd had to clear the upper decks. I came around sometime
later, with a piercing pain in my ribs, under my heart, which was caused
when I fell onto a chair leg. Knowing now I had to get Graham's help, I
stumbled back to the companionway door before losing it again. When I awoke
this time I had my head on the step and just couldn't make it further
.Through 'Lubra' lips, and restricted throat, I hollered out to my
oblivious, snoring saviour, who DID finally respond and helped me back to
bed. 'No pulse though', was his helpful diagnosis - a glass of water - a
mopping of the brow and a kiss goodnight saw me succumb to my stupor!
Graham monitored me during the night, very obligingly waking me every few
hours to see if I was alive. By morning, normalcy reigned and apart from
just feeling 'a bit crook' I was over it. Graham had taken notes in case my
condition deteriorated or returned (gratefully it didn't and hasn't) and in
the event he had to somehow evacuate me to land - a nigh on impossible job
for one person, given you had to launch the dinghy from the top deck and the
outboard motor from the fishing cockpit.
Having declared myself fit enough to continue, about 10 a.m. we decided to
move only the 20 miles along the Cedros coast to position ourselves for the
notorious crossing from the island back to the mainland coast. Set to go,
we couldn't get the anchor up. The clear water enabled us to see down the
20 or so ft. where the chain had wrapped under/around a large rock. By
manouvering the boat, fortunately in the right rotation, we were able to
break loose and mooched up the pleasant, sheer coastline in calm water. Now
Cedros is almost 4,000 ft. elevation, rising from nowhere in the ocean, and
the Pacific winds roar down 'Arroyas' - gulley-like funnels and every now
and then you'd get into one of these and immediately you would be in white
caps and everything on board would flap and beat.
We found our anchorage, which was between 2 arroyas, but it did not offer
much protection and at least 3 times during the day we had to re-set the
anchor as we had dragged out to sea. The good book, C.C's says you have to
anchor REAL close, so our last attempt late in the day was to set the hook
in the surf line 15 yards from shore. This coastline is home to the largest
populatiuon of sealions known to man and the noise they make is akin go the
racket at a Purdie-reunion. Now, if you think this all puts a crook
skipper, with an uninsured boat at ease, you're not thinking straight. In
addition, I was apprehensive about our next leg, as I'd heard so many
stories from other cruisers about the battering they'd experienced and the
number who'd made multiple attempts before getting safely over. I elected
to sit watch until we departed at 2.00a.m. since we were even closer to
shore as the tide receded .
Another vessel arrived at dusk and his anometer was recording wind speeds of
28 mph - not exactly what we wanted for a smooth crossing!
During that afternoon we'd had a visit from a Panga, loaded with locals,
offering 2 large lobsters in exchange for fresh meat and chicken. All of
our offerings of canned stuff etc. were rejected, so forlornly we ate our
squid - yet again. This squid was the most tender we'd tasted, but tallk
about SALTY! No matter what we did - strain it in fresh water, whap it - we
couldn't get it to taste like anything other than salt lick! We did
disguise it with various sauces, and mixing it with Graham's pasta and rice
concoctions, it was edible. No need for salt tablets for cramp while we had
this squid on board. This was not the only place we had a visit from the
local 'fishing laddies. Another time they came with a 44 gallon drum
collecting water. We gave them some and then a bag of candy for 'la
ninas!'
You would have thought they'd just been presented with the World Cup as they
whooped and hollered gleefully. Like to guess how many kids got candy that
night?
At 2.00 a.m. then we motored up the remaining few miles of Cedros and then
struck out for knowing that if conditions were too bad, our
fallback was to some 30 nm south. We bucked and tossed
until dawn - the wind falling -with- night- myth again proving to be the
opposite. Radioed at dawn back to the other boat that conditions were
bearable, just as they were starting out. And so the day played out, not
pleasant, but surely progress was made. The wind picked up in sight of land
and was gusting to 40 mph (our estimate) which was severe enough to blow our
bimini over the side, taking with it our GPS antenna and splitting the new
VHF one. It held on despite the contorted stays and framework and once more
Graham came to the rescue with his good knot tying skills, enabling it to be
secured sufficiently while we limped into the fallback bay where we started
disassembling and recovery efforts. We worked feverishly in strong winds,
not realising that again we had driftd several miles while we were absorbed.
The bent bits were lashed behind the dinghy out of the way and as we decided
it was too late to make the other anchorage, we also changed the anchor
which had consistently caused us problems and then re-anchored for the
night. Odd as it seems, as its a lighter anchor, we never had another
problem.
So, for the next few days we continued up the remote coast in milder
conditions without mishap until we reached our final Mexican port of
Ensenada. Actually this was a neat place. We anchored out in a placid bay
and radio'd for the water taxi to take us ashore for a spot of last-minute
shopping and a good meal. I was some excited, that a pleasant day's
cruising on the morrow would see us cross the US border and make San Diego
in good time. In my mind I was already conjuring up the things I'd say to
Mum when I finally could speak to her after a month of furtive faxes.
Graham had serviced the engines and although a little low on fuel, we
figured we could make it with 'no worries'.
Up on time next morning and ready to start the engines. A twist of the keys
produced a sluggish whir, but the engines didn't fire. It was inconceivable
that on our very last day that the critical element - our start batteries
were low or flat. Think for a moment of the consequences had this happened
in some of the remote places we'd been where there was no way we could get
help or our batteries charged. Thinking our house batteries might have some
kick left, we attempted a start by wiring to one bank, but no joy. We
figured the marina boatyard would open at 8.00 a.m. so commenced calling,
only to be told the yard was closed SUNDAY and that we should call
tomorrow! Somewhere we'd lost a day as we thought it was Saturday. Our
only explanation is that we dropped a day during one of our night crossings.
So rather than wait a day, we decided on hauling out the start batteries,
(launching the dinghy and hooking on the motor) and carting them to the
shore power where we would hook them to the boat's battery charger.
Some 7 hours later, we had a good reading, so lugged them back to AK,
re-installed them and fired the motors. During our wait on shore we did
some shopping and came upon an incredible fish market. A huge variety of
fresh fish offered in a building with 3 rows of stalls, each 100 - 150 ft.
long. We bought some sword fish, tuna and smoked tuna at really good
prices. Great sword fish steaks for dinner that night.
Next morning - not as early as we'd decided prudence was our best course, we
headed to the Corral Hotel's fuel dock, fueled up and set out for San Diego.
An uneventful day with the highlight being our crossing of the Mexican/US
border mid-afternoon. We gave each other the 'high five' and then
ceremoniously dumped an exhaust(ed) elbow (required by Mexican customs to be
retained for 20 years) over the side. Just as if we wiped the dust off our
feet!
There are other bits to tell - getting Graham legalised in the U.S., (- 4
hours and more lies), avoiding customs duties on the repairs to AK etc.,
deciding not to stay in San Diego nor Newport and finally delivering AK to
Marina Del Rey. But ONE should be told and that is our inglorious end.
I'd researched brokers to handle the sale and marinas to store the boat, and
having decided on the Yamaha Marina, headed over on our penultimate day,
prior to leaving, to the berth we'd been allocated. With perfect alignment
we made our way into the slip where AK became firmly wedged mid -ships. The
slip was 13'10", our beam 14' and there we left it, like a ground hog
peering out of its burrow!
What more can I say - it was a memorable adventure. I thank God for the
prayers for safekeeping of all those who cared for our return - they were
answered. And for my first mate/co-captain without whom the saga might
never have been told.
To which Matt replied:
"Your Dad's lucky as shit!"
All adventure credit must go to the author Kingsley and his fearless crew