The mercury sea gleams as it rolls in a long easy stride. From my perch in the cockpit A turtle back occasionally dots the smooth surface, head periscoping left then right then disappearing under the blue green water. There was a smidge of wind at sunrise but less now. The main and mizzen sails are flying but only for the purpose of steadying P.J. as she rolls along the surface.
We left Ipala about an hour before sunrise and expect to arrive at Chamela in the late afternoon. This'll be our last long day for a while. Once we reach Chamela the rest of the anchorages are relatively close to one another.
The weather is definitely more tropical here and the heat of the sun defies the breeze's feeble attempt to cool us. By afternoon we've removed all but our hats in an attempt to allow the air to move over our toasted skin (sorry no pictures)
Mexico's coast is a pencil thin line dividing sea and sky 10 miles in the distance. No other boats are visible from horizon to horizon Never have we been so secluded and self dependent. Reading, ruminating and relaxing fill the morning and early afternoon. "Uncle Otto" our trusty auto pilot, mans (or persons) the helm.
On mornings like this when the seas are benign and the new sun warms my skin a feeling of well being settles upon me. It is the very feeling that mankind is constantly trying to replicate with various potions.I posess this feeling now as Pacific Jade conveys us to the next destination and a gentle breath caresses my face and bare limbs. I am deeply grateful to be in this place at this time.
The fishing line Joe has in the water catches three mackerel who are all thrown back after a quick reference to the fish book deems them "poor edibility". The zinging of the rod draws our attention to a booby bird flapping and splashing along at the end of the line. After numerous attempts she has caught the prize at the end of the line .. or so she thinks. Joe drags the booby to the boat, untangles the frazzled and frightened bird from the line and releases her. Once free she immediately begins stalking the lure again. Boobys are not known for their amazing intellect.
Once, the radio crackles to life with the familiar call "Pacific Jade, Pacific Jade this is Defiance " Just a friendly phone call from the power yacht that had anchored just behind us at Ipala, the only other boat we've seen today.
Late afternoon we coast into Chamela a beautiful and spacious anchorage where as many as 50 boats can rest. The lovely protected bay is almost surrounded by a semi circular sandy beach that stretches in a curve miles long. Small islands dot the bay and provide shelter for 1 or 2 boats here and there.
We anchor in a place where we hope to have some privacy for deck showers on one side and quickly stow the underway gear and set up house. We plan to spend a few days here so the dinghy gets splashed into the water. We cook our evening meal (sadly not fish) and retire.
This morning we're dinghying to shore. We've never landed the dinghy in the surf before but how hard can it be? Although there is definitely a surf it looks fairly small from the deck of our boat.
The surf that looked easily manageable from the boat looks much bigger as we approach our selected landing area. We had asked some fellow cruisers as they floated past our boat in their dinghy where to land the dinghy. Cautiously we make our way to the specified area and watch as the surf crashes onto shore. Inching our way forward we approach the shore and the sea rhythmically lifts the dinghy and drops us downward then lifts again as the next wave of seawater passes beneath us. Once you pass the point where the waves start breaking you have passed the point of no return and you'd better scramble. We know that now but as we approach, caution is our main concern avoiding the rocks scattered over the bottom.
As we hesitate for mere seconds the dinghy turns itself side to the waves and there's a big hummer coming.....fast. We have just enough time to realize what's going to happen before the rushing, cresting wave slams against the side of the dinghy, lifts the port side and completely turns the boat over, dumping us into the churning surf.
Without missing a beat before the next wave has a chance to come crashing over us we're up and have the dinghy turned and are running up the beach one dragging each side of the dinghy. Then dripping and wearing one flip flop I wadedinto the water to retrieve our stuff and gather what little is left of my dignity Unable to find my other shoe I leave the one in the dinghy (right side up of course, so not to attract any bad luck, more salty superstition), and we carry on barefoot.
A knot of Mexican fishermen look on barely able to keep a mirthful expression from tugging at their features. One even offers these helpful words "you don't do it like that". That much we had already figured out.
A most undignified landing brings us tumbling onto the beach in Chamela but hey, we met some new friends, Erik and Terry on the beach. We're anchored next to them and they gave us some much needed dinghy landing tips... and, I was planning on a swim today anyway.....
We left Ipala about an hour before sunrise and expect to arrive at Chamela in the late afternoon. This'll be our last long day for a while. Once we reach Chamela the rest of the anchorages are relatively close to one another.
The weather is definitely more tropical here and the heat of the sun defies the breeze's feeble attempt to cool us. By afternoon we've removed all but our hats in an attempt to allow the air to move over our toasted skin (sorry no pictures)
Mexico's coast is a pencil thin line dividing sea and sky 10 miles in the distance. No other boats are visible from horizon to horizon Never have we been so secluded and self dependent. Reading, ruminating and relaxing fill the morning and early afternoon. "Uncle Otto" our trusty auto pilot, mans (or persons) the helm.
On mornings like this when the seas are benign and the new sun warms my skin a feeling of well being settles upon me. It is the very feeling that mankind is constantly trying to replicate with various potions.I posess this feeling now as Pacific Jade conveys us to the next destination and a gentle breath caresses my face and bare limbs. I am deeply grateful to be in this place at this time.
The fishing line Joe has in the water catches three mackerel who are all thrown back after a quick reference to the fish book deems them "poor edibility". The zinging of the rod draws our attention to a booby bird flapping and splashing along at the end of the line. After numerous attempts she has caught the prize at the end of the line .. or so she thinks. Joe drags the booby to the boat, untangles the frazzled and frightened bird from the line and releases her. Once free she immediately begins stalking the lure again. Boobys are not known for their amazing intellect.
Once, the radio crackles to life with the familiar call "Pacific Jade, Pacific Jade this is Defiance " Just a friendly phone call from the power yacht that had anchored just behind us at Ipala, the only other boat we've seen today.
Late afternoon we coast into Chamela a beautiful and spacious anchorage where as many as 50 boats can rest. The lovely protected bay is almost surrounded by a semi circular sandy beach that stretches in a curve miles long. Small islands dot the bay and provide shelter for 1 or 2 boats here and there.
We anchor in a place where we hope to have some privacy for deck showers on one side and quickly stow the underway gear and set up house. We plan to spend a few days here so the dinghy gets splashed into the water. We cook our evening meal (sadly not fish) and retire.
This morning we're dinghying to shore. We've never landed the dinghy in the surf before but how hard can it be? Although there is definitely a surf it looks fairly small from the deck of our boat.
The surf that looked easily manageable from the boat looks much bigger as we approach our selected landing area. We had asked some fellow cruisers as they floated past our boat in their dinghy where to land the dinghy. Cautiously we make our way to the specified area and watch as the surf crashes onto shore. Inching our way forward we approach the shore and the sea rhythmically lifts the dinghy and drops us downward then lifts again as the next wave of seawater passes beneath us. Once you pass the point where the waves start breaking you have passed the point of no return and you'd better scramble. We know that now but as we approach, caution is our main concern avoiding the rocks scattered over the bottom.
As we hesitate for mere seconds the dinghy turns itself side to the waves and there's a big hummer coming.....fast. We have just enough time to realize what's going to happen before the rushing, cresting wave slams against the side of the dinghy, lifts the port side and completely turns the boat over, dumping us into the churning surf.
Without missing a beat before the next wave has a chance to come crashing over us we're up and have the dinghy turned and are running up the beach one dragging each side of the dinghy. Then dripping and wearing one flip flop I wadedinto the water to retrieve our stuff and gather what little is left of my dignity Unable to find my other shoe I leave the one in the dinghy (right side up of course, so not to attract any bad luck, more salty superstition), and we carry on barefoot.
A knot of Mexican fishermen look on barely able to keep a mirthful expression from tugging at their features. One even offers these helpful words "you don't do it like that". That much we had already figured out.
A most undignified landing brings us tumbling onto the beach in Chamela but hey, we met some new friends, Erik and Terry on the beach. We're anchored next to them and they gave us some much needed dinghy landing tips... and, I was planning on a swim today anyway.....
posted by Debra Anderson at 8:32 AM
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