Our First Cruise, Mazatlan to La Cruz

 

As we backed out of the slip, our 43 ft sailboat turned sharper than anticipated.  With rocks closer that way, we had a moment of fear, but she turned sharp the other way as we motored forward and into the marina channel.  El Cid Marina in Mazatlan lies near the mouth of an estuary that dumps into the Pacific.  The channel is narrow, and dredge equipment is parked on the north side, so we proceeded cautiously.  As we neared the Ocean, we met waves crashing across the channel mouth.  Depth was only 10ft, so there was concern we might rub bottom if we fell deeply into a trough.

Once out of the marina, we kicked up 2500 RPMs on our 55hp Yanmar  and sped to 5.5 knots.  We were expecting better than 6.  Captain John informed us that even 3 weeks of growth on the bottom can slow a boat half a knot.  A ship in a harbor is safe from wind and waves, but still at risk from UV and barnacles.  Sailboats need to be sailed.

That’s right.  We hired a captain.  No sense wrecking her the first time out!  Captain John rode a bus up from La Cruz to accompany us on our trip.  If you're thinking of Captain Ron from the movie, you have the right idea..

We raised the main (the back sail), unfurled the geneoa (the front sail) and the staysail (the middle sail), shut down the engine and sped up.  We weren’t breaking records, but she comfortably sailed 6 knots.

We sailed and then motored through the night.  I took the helm from 6 to 9.  T followed me from 9 to midnight.  John took the midnight shift, and I replaced him at 3.  T enjoyed a whale show at sunrise.  We arrived at Isla Isabel that morning and dinghied ashore.  We hiked for a few miles amongst 100’s (1000’s?) of blue-footed-boobies and frigate birds.  

Boobies nest on the ground, and they called out as we walked by.  Once away from the beach, we passed into frigate bird territory where red-scrotum throated males, black and white females, and downy white chicks nested on short trees.

Our outboard sucks.  It’s a 3 hp Nissan, and we had to punch a break to get off the beach.   Making it worse, it doesn’t have a transmission---the prop just spins.  For reverse, spin the motor around backwards.  So while I was standing behind the boat trying to start the finnicky engine with waves breaking across my butt, I had to make sure the prop didn't eat my ankles.

Beers, bed.  At sunrise we pulled anchor and headed east-southeast through another whale show.  Waving fins, diving tails, and full-on breaches.  We must’ve seen 20 of them.   We set sails for a broad reach (wind on our rear quarter) and hauled ass at around 7 knots.

San Blas is a sleepy little town along a river and estuary.  We anchored in 12ft of muddy water and headed into town for dinner.  The town has a quaint square complete with a really old church and lots of locals enjoying the evening.  We watched a bit of the chief’s game in a local bar.

Winds on day 3 wind blew on our beam as we scooted southeast along the coast to Chacala, an open anchorage.  Frustration gripped us after our first and second attempts to set the anchor, but we managed ok on a charmed third try.  A Pacific swell rocked us to sleep.

We ran the motor on the final day.  As we sailed east into Bandaras Bay, we flew the head sails wing-on-wing.  We anchored with 50 or so other boats in the anchorage outside La Cruz marina, and we parted ways with John.

Overall, the trip was splendid.  It’s more tiring than I expected.  Living on a rocking boat requires constant use of muscles not used so much on dry land.