Off We Go!This morning we leave Stone Island behind and venture into new territory. Of the three boats that are leaving - "Panache" a 43' Hans Christian, "Tica" a 38' Cabo Rico and our own "Pacific Jade" a 41' Seawolf ketch, none of us have ever sailed past this point.From my place in the cockpit I hear the rumbling of the anchor chain as Joe (with the help of the windlass) draws the anchor from the sandy bottom. "Tica" has just radioed us from around the corner and we are at the ready along with "Panache" to fall in as they round the point.

Now, free of the bottom we steer toward "Panache" for a short pow wow then out to the sparkling sea to rendezvous with our friends.As we leave Stone Island there is no wind and the glassy surface reflects our sturdy hulls. Wow! 5 foot wide manta rays leap clear of the water flapping their wings? arms? fins? well whatever, in a farewell frenzy. I'm sure it's good luck and bodes well for the souls aboard our vessels.

Leading the way, "Tica" is a beautiful sight with the morning sun bathing her port sides , her bow wake frothing before her and nothing but the gentle roll of the ocean beyond. A long row of pelicans, wings outstretched and bellies almost touching the gently rolling expanse search the beneath for unsuspecting snacks.

In the early afternoon dimples begin to form on the glossy surface, a clear sign that the wind is beginning to pick up, Then a ripple appears and the rolling becomes more pronounced. The wind has arrived. All three boats turn off the noisy motors and raise the sails.The sails are full, the boats heel over and but for the sound of the water rushing past the hull, blessed silence reigns.For a few hours we sail in relative comfort under a reefed mainsail, the small mizzen sail aft and the billowing genoa flying before us.

As late afternoon approaches the roll of the seas becomes more pronounced and it becomes necessary to hold fast even while sitting in the cockpit. Pitch, roll, yaw, roll, yaw pitch. OK, so it's not a major storm. Even a kiddie roller coaster can be too much after the 6th or 7th hour and this is no kiddie coaster.

Up goes P.J., down goes my stomach, Down goes P.J. up goes my stomach. Soon it's impossible for me to spend more than a few minutes below, the mal de mer is tolerable when I stay outside and watch the horizon. Fortunately, Joe has a stronger constitution and can easily amble about above or below so most tasks fall to him.

We bounce onward and the short, steep waves increase making it diffficult to stay in the cockpit. By cleating our lifejacket and lifeline clad selves securely into the cockpit we thwart the seas unfriendly attempts to toss us overboard.

Unable to sleep in the heaving cockpit I extract a vow from Joe that he won't venture forward without first waking me and go below to squeeze myself into our hastily made sleeping quarters on the stateroom floor. Joe has assembled a cushion between the drawers and wall which is just wide enough to tuck myself into. Sandwiched in my makeshift bunk as snugly as the cream filling between the biscuits of an oreo cookie I finally sleep for just over an hour without fear of falling off a bunk.

When I awake I first peek into the cockpit to ensure that my mate is still there. While it doesn't happen often, stories of partners waking for their shift and finding their partner is no longer aboard, having gone overboard during their solo watch never to be recovered, causes an unholy fear to descend upon all cruisers. Most couples have a pact that they will not leave the cockpit for any reason during their watch. How would you ever sleep otherwise?

Happy to see him sitting quietly in the moonlight I check the previously prepared thermos and prepare a cup of cocoa to warm me during my short shift and send him down for a sleep shift. If my stomach felt better I'd rebel against my tiresome plight and eat a bag of cookies but alas the cocoa will have to do. I do a short watch while Joe catches a few winks below and mercifully relieves me.

Joe has certainly carried the brunt of the load on this trip and just as he was feeling the pressure and telling himself that this overnight watch thing isn't much fun, a pod of about 20 dolphins appears and accompanies Joe and P.J. for 40 minutes or so. Cavorting alongside they'd seem to disappear then race to catch up and playfully dive under the boat and pop up on the other side.

At 0430 hrs I wake and peek into the cockpit again and begin the sunrise shift with a cup of now lukewarm cocoa. The seas have quieted and I'm feeling much better. Where are those cookies?

This is a watch I love. Beginning in the darkest part of the night the sun attempts to surprise us with the arrival of morning but gives itself away with a rosy glow from its hiding place behind the horizon. A bright neon crescent emerges and it's arrival nudges the darkness from it's throne as a fresh day dawns. The best part of the day in my opinion is sunrise when the world looks scrubbed clean and somehow more vivid than at any other time.

P.J. rocks very gently now and when Joe wakes we are able to brew a pot of coffee below without fear of the boiling pot being flung across the galley by the sea's temper. A hot breakfast in our bellies with the help of the sun's rays, coax the chill from our tired bodies and we begin to strip the heavy layers of clothing off. That's better, down to shorts and T-shirt again we drift toward the almost deserted anchorage where "Tica" and "Panache" await.

The only overnight leg of this journey is complete as the anchor rolls to the bottom of Mantenchen Bay and suddenly we're feeling pretty smart. Our friends greet us from the deck of their boat and once we've stowed our underway gear we pack a dry bag and leap into the bay and swim to "Tica" for happy hour.

Supper and to bed early because the next leg begins at 3:00 a.m. so that we arrive at Punta de Mita in the daylight hours.
G'night.

The Big Day has arrived. After dreaming and working toward a life cruising on a sailboat we depart today to begin our first cruise down the Mexican Pacific coastline.

Pacific Jade is all abustle with activity as we stow and clean. Last minute weather forecasts have been listened to and interpreted and friends pop by every few minutes for a last visit. Many goodbyes we've said to our salty friends but this is the first time we've been on this end of the farewells.

Today we plan a 2 hour sail to Stone Island (la isla de la peidra) where we'll anchor for 2 nights awaiting our buddy boat "Tica". On Monday morning we'll pull anchor and sail alongside them overnight to an anchorage just outside Puerto Vallarta. We'll rest there for a night and refresh ourselves in the warmer waters and from there we'll head into Puerto Vallarta for a few days.

After that we plan to live swinging from our anchor for a few months in exotic places we've never laid our eyes on and commune with nature.

This time we'll be standing on the departing deck of Pacific Jade waving to our friends on the dock. As Pacific Jade boasts her gleaming white topsides and chugs happily past the docks filled with our friends calling "Fair winds and following seas to you" we'll wave back, and remember. Then look onward, and anticipate.

Monday was the day we had reserved for acquiring our fishing licenses. We had been warned to reserve the whole day for the process and with good reason.

It starts with a bus ride on the Cerritos Juarez bus ( pretty drive) to the Sorianna store. From there we change busses to the Parque Bonfil bus. No one told us we should catch the one that said "directo" on it. We showed the bus driver our piece of paper with the name of the building we sought (or so we thought) written on it and with a nod he was off.

Apparently we had boarded the milk run bus. The driver negotiated narrow streets barely avoiding colliding with cyclists and palm trees while rounding tight corners. Down barely paved residential alleyways and over bumpy intersections. Sometimes in his own lane and sometimes with one hand on the horn and one on the steering wheel down the opposite lane.

The driving rules here are simple, if a bus is coming toward you in your lane while blasting his horn, get the heck out of the way. And they do.

We continued around and about 'til we had not a clue where we were or where we were bound. Finally we arrived in a more populated industrial looking area and after several more turns the bus driver indicated to us that he wanted to look at the paper again.

After much squinting and head scratching he asked the only other passenger (a young woman) if she knew where the building was. No, she said. Undaunted, the bus driver continued 'til he approached a pick up truck and handed the truck driver the paper. Needless to say we were getting a little worried by now.

The truck driver gave some directions to the bus driver who translated them to us in his best English and left us standing, bewildered, on the street.

We started back in the direction he had indicated and by chance came to be standing in front of a building that displayed a name other than the one on our piece of paper. Because it was a 3 storey building (which we knew we were looking for) and the word pescar (fishing) could be made out among the titles painted on the edifice we gave it a try and voila' there, on the second floor was the shabby government office responsible for selling sport fishing licenses.

The friendly, middle aged secretary asked us to sit in the rickety chairs provided and between her broken English an our broken Spanish we were able to piece together that we required 4 fishing licenses. One for Pacific Jade, one for the dinghy, one for Joe and one for me.

The cost for the licenses was 2,150 pesos (a little over $200. Canadian Dollars) but not to be paid to the secretary because that would be too easy. The fee was to be paid to the bank that was a three block walk away.

We took our number, 284 and looked up expectantly at the electronic indicator to discover that number 255 was currently being served. Oh, I said to Joe, that would be what the chairs are for. The waiting customers occupied chairs that were lined up in rows like they were at a movie theatre where the main feature was the 4 busy tellers attending to one client after another.

Once our enormous fishing license fee was paid we trekked back to the fishing license office and took up residence in the rickety chairs while the friendly secretary painstakingly typed forms and finally our 4 fishing licenses. No computers in sight here. The only technology being a battered typewriter and numerous sheets of carbon paper all residing on the rusty metal desk.

Finally we were the proud and tired possessors of 4 fishing licenses that allowed us to keep the fishing gear on board without fear of having our boat confiscated if the navy boarded us. A day long process.

Don't get me wrong, the apparent lack of progress is part of what we love about Mexico. If you're in a hurry you'll miss half the fun. As another cruiser said, manana (sorry, no tilde) doesn't necessarily mean tomorrow, it just means not today.

We didn't have the camera with us so I've posted a picture of a boat at the marina on a typical morning.

Joe and I knew nothing of sailing or even boating for that matter when we chose this lifestyle. We made the decision on the spur of the moment and haven't looked back since. It began while we coaxed the knots from our muscles during our nightly soak in the hot tub. Before we left the tub that night we had decided that we would learn to sail and buy our own boat within 5 to 10 years. Because we knew absolutely nothing of sailing (or boating) the learning curve was steep and long and continues even now.
We considered several factors that led to the choice of sail over power. Sailing keeps a body active and demands that a brain remain engaged due to the skill required to employ the power of the wind. Also, being propelled by the wind is free and it's use has no negative impact on the environment. Sailing is quieter and less smelly than powering. A gentler and less expensive method of exploring the world that requires a close (and hopefully friendly) relationship with mother nature.Being self sufficient held great appeal for us both after years of rising heating fuel, gasoline, electricity and water costs.

Wind generators harvest the power of the wind and almost every cruising sailboat sports a solar panel or two to collect and store energy for use on the boat. Watermakers turn the abundant sea into gallons of potable water and kerosene lanterns adorn the living areas below so that one can live comfortably without the ubiquitous expenses that plague life ashore.
Cruisers are, after all a thrifty lot few of which have unlimited funds
We still have a diesel engine that can be used when the winds refuse to co operate and we must be somewhere, but it is only one option and we are rarely in a hurry. The diesel engine also supplements power aboard when the solar panels and wind generator can't keep up. The more electrical equipment aboard the more power required. The refrigerator (most of us have one) eats the most power and you can get by without one, but hey, we like a cold beer as much as the next guy and there are some sacrifices we're not willing to make.

When I look around our marina the abundance of masts and rigging is evidence that most cruisers down here are of the same mind as us. Above are pictures of life on dock 6. Pacific Jade currently occupies a slip half way down on the right.