Chacala

We're anchored in Chacala.  It's an open roadstead to the west, but the Pacific swell is manageable tonight.  The beach is lined with seven or eight thatch roofed beach bars.  It's a steep beach, with a sudden, somewhat violent break.

We arrived after motoring all day; we couldn't buy a breath of wind.  We tried to motor sail for a while, then we took the sails down to prove they weren't helping.  It was a successful test.

We dropped the anchor in 28 feet of water and let out 130ft of chain placing the boat stern to the beach.  Then we dinghied a second anchor towards the beach another 80ft and pulled it tight.  It's comfortable to stay square to the swells.  So far, it's working.

For dinner, we rowed ashore.  We tried motoring into smaller surf a couple nights ago,  and didn't like it.  And...rowing....rivers! We're experts.  While I eyed the surf with a grin, Theresa said, "I'll row!"  "Ok," I said, with disappointment and concern.  She rowed great.  We came ashore with one break, and I should've jumped out and pulled us up the beach, but I didn't.  The next break came and we got sideways, oars flying and a natural high-side.  We got out and landed safely.  

Pizza with champiñóns y ajo for dinner, along with a view of folks enjoying the beach and our boat in the background and music from a brass band; it was magic.

After dinner: game time.  I moved the seat in the dinghy from the back to the middle of the boat.  We positioned the oars, waited for a large break to pass and tugged the dinghy into the foam.   The oars are shitty...only about 5 ft long, and I rowed like a hummingbird.  We clearly knew squat about reading waves because the next three were monsters, each one bigger than the last.  Three times we climbed straight up and broke over the top.  Once clear of of the froth, I said, "I'm not sure that was a good idea!"  Somehow it was.

Now we're back home aboard.  Showers.  Wine.  A little writing.