Tag Archives: Mexico

Baja California & Mexico, Bryce's Posts, Educational, Eric's Posts, Leslie's Posts

Lost Two Anchors in Puerto Escondido, Mexico

July 9, 2019 admin

Eric:

I’ve anchored cruising sailboats probably close to a thousand times. Although this time was unusual from the get go, but nothing glared at me with significant warning. Puerto Escondido was shown on both sets of electronic charts as a designated anchorage and the two older cruising guides described it as a place to visit, so I felt assured, although our trusted website guru Noonsite.com curiously was silent. Oddities began to present themselves. 1) the position dedicated as the anchorage was occupied by more than 50 pangas on individual mooring buoys. A local fisherman, fluent in English, approached us on his beautifully painted bright green panga advising us no mooring buoys were public. 2) the depths far exceeded the charts’ descriptions; 12 feet was now 80, and 15 was now 150. Thinking our depth sounder was on the fritz, I had Bryce drop a lead line to verify depth. “Line” is a nautical term used to describe loose rope on a boat, no matter the diameter. The sounder was accurate. 3) we were adjacent to one of Mexico’s primo surf sites, on purpose, and the current swell supported it. 4) with all the pangas on moorings and little room between them and the surf, we had to anchor outside their mooring grounds in 80 feet deep waters. Not our favorite circumstance. And, in addition to our bow anchor, we’d have to deploy our stern anchor to prevent us from swinging into the pangas since would have to let out so much chain due to the deepness of the anchorage.

The onshore breeze made anchoring that afternoon easy. We picked our spot, brought Kandu’sbow around, pointing her in the wind, then idled in reverse while in 85 feet of water, Bryce dropped our 65-pound Mantus anchor, the same anchor we faithfully deployed all around the world (an anchor few other long-distance cruising boats possess but wished they did, if only they knew how great it was). Bryce let out 150 feet of chain before we tested whether it would hold us. Most anchors need a chain to depth scope ratio of 3:1 to test, be we’ve found that the Mantus will grab at 2:1.

Once satisfied, we drifted back deploying a total of 240 feet of new high-tensile marine chain. Several types of marine chain exist, mostly all are steel galvanized with a zinc coating to protect it from prematurely rusting. Through our travels, we’ve learned that the French and Australians typically anchor with 3:1 scope, 4:1 in a blow. Americans, Brits, and Germans anchor 5:1 standard, and 7:1 in a blow. But at a depth of 85’ on a sharply rising seabed combined with the weight of 240’ of chain, we felt secure with 4:1. A rising sea bottom meant that the depth decreased dramatically, improving our ratio should we drift closer to shore, and such an angle advantaged us as well. As is our practice, Bryce attached our Mantus chain hook and nylon bridle, but with 240’ of chain deployed, we were a little too close to shore to let out all 30 feet of the bridle, deploying only half.

Our primary anchor is attached to all chain, 300’ in total. To prevent the chain pounding that can occur when a boat bow dips and rises, we attach a nylon rope to act as a shock absorber. It’s called a “snubber.” Wet nylon stretches more than dry, and the longer the nylon line the greater the stretch as well. We felt we had enough nylon in the water to give us the desired stretch. A bridle provides additional benefits in that two lines are attached, one from both sides of the bow, centering the pull forward off the bow, distributing the load, and adding security in the event one side should fray and give way, having the second to hold us still.

With our bow anchor secure, we set about the task of deploying the stern anchor, something seldom needed in most anchorages and therefore something we only seldom have done. We were not far from shore. Waves broke on the beige sand beach directly behind us, beach-goers Boogie boarding in the surf. To put out our stern anchor, Bryce and I inflated and lowered our dinghy, a task in and of itself, but one we are very accustomed to. With Leslie’s help too, the dinghy was launched in short order and our small, 3.3 hp outboard mounted to its transom. Seat and oars installed and with Kandu’s engine turned on, I boarded the dinghy, ready to receive and deploy our stern anchor. As agreed, Bryce monitored the outgoing line. “Leslie, reverse idle to port.”

Unlike the steel of our bow anchor, our stern anchor, a Fortress is made of aluminum. It’s the only anchor I know of made of such a light alloy, but that’s precisely the reason I like it as my stern anchor. I can easily “throw” it over board with minimal damage to the dinghy or myself. The proximity to shore and the greater than normal depth of the sea bottom made it impossible for us to first deploy the stern anchor from deck – a technic accomplished by traveling further forward to drop the bow anchor, and then pulling back in on the stern anchor line. Under our current circumstances, we needed to transport the 16-pound anchor and 50 feet of chain to the drop point, “toss” the anchor and chain in without damaging our dinghy, like pulling off an oar or puncturing something, and then have someone else on board Kandu take up the slack from the poop deck hoping it sets quickly. The make of our aluminum anchor, the Fortress, does this very well.

Over the next two days, we had to re-anchor the stern because the surf kept moving our anchor. Each time we brought up the anchor was challenging but we were able to pull up the stern anchor twice successfully. Finally, the third day it stuck. In that case, we anchored it much further away, almost at a 45-degree angle from the boat, directly in the surf.

Puerto Escondido surf right next to Kandu

The day before we were planning to leave this famous Mexican surf spot, a charter sailboat showed up, anchored for four hours, tried to pull up his anchor and couldn’t. He called two different scuba divers to free up his anchor and they both gave him the same reply, “No, I’m not going to do it, because it’s swallowed up by the sand and anything I do will be erased in a second by more falling sand. The only thing you can do is cut your anchor.” His anchor had mostly nylon hooked to little chain. I was hopeful that with our experience with the stern anchor and the fact that our fore anchor was all chain, we’d be successful.

Kandu anchored in Puerto Escondido, Mexico.

Bryce:

“Let’s go Trent” said Dad with determination. Initially, Dad and Trent paddled out in the dinghy to pull up the stern line and anchor while I was in charge of monitoring the line, the release and pulling the line/chain back in. Mom was monitoring the helm. “All good.” “Still good,” I yelled as I studied a fishing panga a little distance away to check the swell movements: whether the up and down movements were gradual or quick – the quicker movements indicated especially large incoming waves. “Still good,” I yelled every minute as I continued the pattern of letting the line out, and then pulling it in as some of the chain was released from the sand. “Outside set,” I yelled, and the two quickly abandoned their tugging in the surf and rowed to safety. This repeated at least five or six times when dad declared: “I’m exhausted, you need to take over with Trent.” As with Dad, Trent monitored the line and chain while I paddled out overtop the anchor which was directly in the break of crashing waters. I was worried about sinking and/or damaging the dinghy with too much pressure. When I grabbed ahold of the chain, due to the swell, I had to release or pull-in how much I had: swell decrease = slack, swell increase = the dinghy flying over top of the anchor, like when you spear a whale and it suddenly takes off. I placed my feet as if getting ready for a car crash to lock myself in. I was getting ready for a tug of war, holding on tightly letting the upward motion of the dinghy do the heavy lifting of the anchor. My position in the boat was far more secure than Trent’s because I was holding onto the anchor chain. Poor Trent was being thrashed around in the back of the dinghy like a malfunctioning carousel. Up, down, whipping all around. At one point, I only saw Trent’s legs hanging onto the back transom, and no Trent. Busy holding the chain I heard behind me: “Hey Bryce, I just fell in the water,” while lifting himself up pushing against the two ends of the dinghy. Trent’s torso and head had been completely doused. He looked quite disheveled. Both of us depleted, that was the last time we tried lifting the anchor with the dinghy. But still not giving up while rowing ashore, I decided that I would scope out the anchor with a mask and snorkel.

Dad and I rowed back out with the dinghy bringing up the line and chain as we went in order to attach a buoy, a floating marker. That was needed in order for me to find the anchor once dad dropped the line. I jumped into the pitch black with snorkel and mask and waited for the stirred-up sand to dissipate. Plunging down into the water holding the lead line, my goal was to see if I could touch the anchor. Once I got past all the floating sand, due to the moonlight and bioluminescence I could see pretty far…like there were stars under water, Van Gogh’s starry night! At the bottom of the chain, I couldn’t see or feel the anchor at all and every time I tried to unbury the sand, I would have to go up for breath. Then returning back down via the lead line just 2 minutes later, my unburied work was gone. I was so frustrated. I felt like all my hard work was for nothing…and I couldn’t change the situation. Like building a big Lego spaceship, while bringing it to your parents to show it off, you trip and drop it.

We figured there was forty-eight feet of chain with two feet remaining. The new plan was to pull up the slack as much as possible and during overnight’s largest swell we had experienced up to that point, the tugging of the chain by the boat would eventually pull the anchor out of the sand. At half past midnight, we went to bed exhausted.

The next morning around 7:00 am, we’d hoped to see the aft line slack, but no, the aft line was tighter than ever. I jumped back down into the water to see, and what I discovered was definitely not inspiring. I told Dad and Trent floating nearby in the dinghy, “We’re so screwed! That anchor is buried even deeper than last night because of the crazy swell we had during the night.” Due to the unbelievable current switches, the chain was buried an extra foot and I couldn’t even unbury the hook holding the buoy marker. Instead, I untied the buoy, leaving the entire marker line behind. I swam back to the boat while Trent and Dad in the dinghy, lifted up the chain and unattached the shackle holding the nylon line to the chain. We ended-up leaving all the 50 feet of aft chain plus the anchor. This whole business took about 45 minutes. We really didn’t want to lose our anchor, but we needed to get busy pulling up the forward anchor in order to depart that day. Trent’s flight out of Zihuatenejo was booked…we had a deadline.

Kandu’s aft positioned toward the beach of Puerto Escondido.

Dad was still hopeful that we could bring up the forward anchor because ours was attached to chain, not nylon line. I remember dad saying: “We have to at least try to pull-up the anchor!” However, we had been anchored there for a week…not just four hours!! I wasn’t very hopeful.

Leslie:

After 4 hours of painstakingly raising chain inch by inch, Eric and Bryce working together the entire time in the hot sun, concluded that it was a lost cause. “In the last 4 hours we’ve brought up just 150 feet of chain and it is no longer coming up. The tension is just too intense. The continued pressure will damage the boat,” declared Eric. Regrettably, he pulled out the bolt cutters and hewed the chain in two. We lost 2 anchors, our stern Fortress anchor and our fabulous 65 lb Mantus anchor attached to 130 feet of expensive new chain, plus 12 hours of concerted effort. Darn, darn, darn. However, on the positive side, during our two-day motor to Ixtapa Marina pointing into the swell, we benefitted from a substantially lighter bow!

Bolt cutters posed to cut Kandu lose from the chain.

Fortunately, we have 3 more anchors aboard. In Ixtapa, just before departing for Cabo, Eric and Bryce hooked-up and situated our secondary bow anchor (now our primary anchor), a Plow anchor, in a matter of minutes to line and chain – not Eric’s preference, but good enough to get us home. It took 45 minutes for them to prep the adequate but much heavier aft Danforth anchor for the stern. We also have a 95 lb fisherman’s anchor stored in the bilge to use for massive storms, which fortunately we have never needed.

Example of a very large Fisherman’s anchor

Baja California & Mexico, Educational, Eric's Posts

Southern Mexico’s Immigration Crisis by Eric Rigney

May 16, 2019 admin 4 Comments

I apologize in advance for my soap box moment. Hearing local perspectives is a benefit of travel.

Exploring Southern Mexico near the Guatemalan border, the southern gateway into North America, we hear from locals their current immigration concerns. Apparently agriculture in this region depends on Guatemalan illegal immigration for harvests and households depend on them as nannies, housekeepers, and more. Poorer Mexicans prefer the ease of welfare over the lower paying seasonal farm work or menial domestic care positions. Those Mexicans who do take jobs like these are characterized as less dependable, too often finding reasons why they can’t make it to work some days. Guatemalans in particular share similar values and traditions with the people of Chiapas. A trust bond and working relationship has developed over decades of this symbiotic practice.

Two Mexicans fishing in Puerto Chiapas channel

Over the past 2 years, the character of illegal immigration has apparently changed dramatically in Southern Mexico. Immigrants from Africa via Brazil and other South American countries, immigrants from northern South America, and Cubans have flooded the region. Mexicans don’t know the values and culture of these new illegal immigrants. Never before have they seen so many Africans and Maroons moving through or into their region, most, except for the Cubans and Venezuelans, don’t speak Spanish. But this is not what concerns them. What concerns Southern Mexicans are the “caravans,” waves of El Salvadorian and Honduran immigrants raised on gangland thievery and violence. They attack Mexican police and soldiers who block them from crossing the borders. International pressures caused the current Mexican administration to step aside their police & military and allow the caravans, 9 so far, to enter unevaluated. The dress, tattoos, and language of too many of these immigrants indicate gang members. Towns that had little to no crime are now seeing it. “Protection money” and other mafioso-type payment practices are growing. Hoodlums roam the streets at night, mugging, breaking-in, and stealing. Locals are baffled how their federal government can allow this easily identifiable criminal element to invade Mexico unfettered. When the first caravans came, locals stood by with offers of water and blankets for the families. Now when a caravan enters, locals lock their doors.
As we get closer to California, I’ve been reading more US & British news media. I don’t recall any pointing to the Southern Mexico experience, a warning call to all of North America, something so obvious to those who live on this important international frontier. It reminds me of the myopia that often afflicts nations’ news preferences. Not to belittle other illegal immigration concerns and programs in play, but even here, Southern Mexico offers advice to their powerful US neighbor: instead of spending billions on a mechanical barrier, develop and enforce greater procedures, like Germany today absorbing Syrian refugees (“Show me your papers.”), and really enforce those processes and laws, laws that may already exist within the US and/or may need to be established, and illegal immigration will drop dramatically. Simple principles of supply and demand they say. Crossing illegally into another country, a person only makes such sacrifices knowing they have the likelihood of getting a decent job. If employers, even individual households, were held accountable to the employment laws, illegal immigration into the US would practically die. But just as Southern Mexico depends on illegal Guatemalan immigrants, so does the US depend on illegal Mexican immigrants. Thus enforcement is not put in play. No wall will stop this dynamic, our Southern Mexican friends say. “Just listen to President Trump’s advice,” as they play a college commencement address YouTube video of the President encouraging graduates to overcome any and all obstacles in meeting their economic goals, even a concrete barrier. And if the US is not going to enforce employment laws, and if illegal immigrants are allowed to enter, know from Southern Mexico’s experience, recognizing a gang member is easy, and they don’t cross rivers or walk through the desert, they pass through check points.

Thought I’d share what I found to be a fascinating, for me, a less-heard, perspective from my new Mexican brothers and sisters. Having visited many wonderful countries these past two years, I’ve grown even fonder of my amazing neighbor. Mexican food? Don’t even get me started…

Argovia Coffee plantation, S Mexico. Notice the coffee plants on bottom of photo.

Izapa Olmec Archeological site near Tapachula, Mexico.

Baja California & Mexico, Leslie's Letters, Leslie's Posts

Leslie’s Letters: Old Haunts and New

April 29, 2019 admin 6 Comments

Bill Kohut

Bonjour from Alsace. How timely and professional the Alsace posts are.

We are at the Hubert’s ghost house and will soon visit Colmar.

Bill and Annie

Chers Oncle Bill et Tante Annie,

You two are so busy running around Alsace, it’s amazing you had a moment to take time to read our Alsatian posts. However, I thought you two might enjoy them considering you’re in Alsace right now seeing all the lovely people we so happily visited last July! Our Alsace memories are still very clear and I am enjoying catching a few moments of your family fun there as displayed on your Facebook account.

The Hubert’s ghost isn’t bothering you, is it? hehe When we were there, I was quietly resting upstairs, stretched out on the modern Ikea bed, and I felt the sheet over me jostle abruptly. I strongly felt a presence and spoke out loud to it that I knew it was there and to go away. Unbeknownst to me, at nighttime, Bryce was in the upstairs bathroom video chatting with a friend, and the lights went out; the switch actually turned-off. Bryce got up and turned the light switch back on, then sat back down on the closed toilet. The light switch turned off again. To his friend Cory, he said “Hey dude, I think there’s an actual ghost here!” Bryce got up and turned the lights on a second time – this time they stayed on. After those two incidents, the subject of a ghost haunting the house was brought up to Brigitte – she confirmed that there have been many such incidents and that the house has a ghost. Neither Bryce nor I were aware of this history before the two incidents happened, so we weren’t inclined to fabricate weird tales. Thinking maybe it was all in my head, I didn’t think much of my incident until Bryce mentioned his. Funny business!

Hubert Family home in Merkviller-Peschelbraun

Presently, we are precariously anchored in Playa Escondido’s very deep fishing port which is located next to some of the best surf in the country, hence the reason why we’re here. The entire port is filled with a minimum 100 colorful fishing pangas attached to moorings or beached…this makes it very difficult for boats like 20-ton Kandu, which normally put out a safe 5 to 1 scope, to anchor without actually being caught in the active surf break and hitting the smaller boats on much shorter leashes.

Colorful fishing and tourist pangas of Puerto Escondido, Mexico

Anchored on the outside of the small port, our forward anchor is at a depth of 85 feet. These last two mornings we had to readjust our aft anchor to keep us pointing into the swell as that anchor is slowly slipping due to the sharp beach drop-off and the substantial current and wave action. Fortunately, our forward anchor is holding fine. Of course, we are not complaining, simply explaining. Such is a small price to pay for being in an active, very pretty place – a local’s hangout.

Restaurant umbrellas galore at Playa Escondido.

We much prefer this type of atmosphere for any length of time to a beautiful solitary bay. City people to the core, hearing blaring emergency vehicles at the wee hours of the morning doesn’t bother us. At seven in the morning, listening to happy voices enjoying the beach surf mixed with the raucous sounds of wild birds waking up, is an absolute pleasure.

Surfers and boogie boarders enjoying Playa Escondido’s wave action.

Bryce is headed-off for the day to the southern end of the long beach, two-mile walk, to catch the best surf at the point. Turns out there are numerous international surfers here, about 20 competing for the best waves. Yesterday, Bryce said he was the most advanced surfer except for one guy.

Bryce Rigney ready to swim back to Kandu after boarding the waves at Playa Escondido.

We are looking forward to having Trent with us starting Monday through the following Monday. Bryce has been pining for his best friend, so we decided to celebrate Easter all-together here in Puerto Escondido. Nice!

Kandu’s Yanmar engine has been running ever so faithfully. Eric and Bryce painstakingly polished all the diesel in the tanks before departing Chiapas Marina on the border of Mexico and Guatemala because while arriving there, the engine started to struggle due to dirty fuel. The fuel polisher you assembled for us in Raiatea functioned perfectly.

Kandu’s fuel polisher and transfer pump system

Thank goodness because we will be running the engine from here on out – all the way home preferably when there is no wind and ducking into bays when there is.

Uncle Bill…forever Kandu’s shipwright! We couldn’t have done it without you!

As you know, the prevailing wind and current is southerly – we’re bashing back to California. So far, so good though. Eric and a good friend of ours acting as our weather guru, have been studiously following the wind. Since departing Panama, we’ve mostly avoided contrary weather, making for generally smooth motoring. We want to avoid beating as much for our health as the health of the boat. Don’t need to be dealing with lengthy expensive repairs at the end of our adventure.

So glad you all are having a fabulous time together in picturesque Alsace…albeit you’re feeling a bit colder than when we were there last July!

Big hugs,

Leslie

Eric Rigney having fun in the surf of Playa Escondido, Mexico.

Baja California & Mexico, Bryce's Posts, Experiential

Cool Friends in La Cruz, Mexico

November 3, 2015 admin 2 Comments

April 15, 2015

Saturday April 11^thwe met Merle McAssey, a friendly yachtie accomplished in many individual sports: sailing, surfing, wind surfing, kite boarding, kayaking, and his favorite, mountain biking. He performs most any sport well.

During his mountain biking experiences as a guide in Canada he suffered many broken bones, mainly his collarbones. Over four years he broke at least one collarbone (once both at the same time) every 6 months. His most intense injury was breaking his back while hiking to get help during a kayaking expedition. Over several careful months of healing treatments, his back miraculously healed without medical intervention. To say the least, Merle is a very daring and active person!

The following Tuesday, Merle offered to take us surfing if he could get his car working. He explained that his car had been in a crash and his required Mexican insurance wouldn’t pay to fix the damage, so he didn’t repair it. He called it his Afghanistan car because it was so messed up, like a war zone.

Merle got it working so Trent, Dad and I tied our surfboards to the top of his beat-up car and jumped in. This was the first time going surfing without wetsuits. I was very excited to surf in warm water. As we were driving along, Merle told us his surf plans. He explained that he was going to drive us all the way to a surf spot at the very end of the road called Punta Mita, but if the waves weren’t good, we would go to Burro’s instead. When we arrived at Punta Mita and checked out the waves, Merle decided it was okay, so we paddled out to the wave break and waited for a set; it took almost 20 minutes before a set eventually arrived. Everyone including my dad (who doesn’t even surf) caught waves, but they were pretty small for Trent and me.

After a bit, we got out of the water and walked over to an outside restaurant and ordered lunch. Merle ordered only guacamole and chips with fresh coconut water to drink. Everything tasted mighty fine. When we were done, we packed up our stuff and headed back to the car so we could hit up the other surf spot, Burro’s.

Hiking through the jungle to get to Burros surf spot

This surf spot was excellent. We all had a great time. It was very fun to have my dad out with us catching waves. We planned to go back to this spot again.

A few days later, Merle’s sons, Shandro and Matero, and wife, Allison, returned from vacation in Canada. Since we liked Merle so much, we were excited to meet his family, who we suspected were also cool. We were not disappointed.

Trent, Matero, Shandro, and me at Mexican fair.

We had a lot of fun hanging out with their entire family, getting the inside track of things to do in La Cruz, including aerial tissue workouts.

Working on skateboard after recovering from sea floor

They showed us the best tacos and how to order the best combo of aqua frescas, homemade Mexican fruit drinks.

Home-made Mexican ice cream after a day of surfing

Open-air taco restaurant overlooking La Cruz's central square. — Open-air taco restaurant overlooking La Cruz’s central square.

Shandro, Matero, Trent, and I slept overnight together: once on the dock behind their boat, another time on the beach in front of the marina’s club house (we had a bonfire and danced like crazy wild guys), and again on our boat at Paradise Village where we slid all day down the resort’s huge water slides.

P Nuevo P Village Pool Slide — Paradise Village Resort’s pool in the morning before we can play.

We hope to see them soon in the Marquesas. They said they would be following us in a year. I looking forward to showing them around this time!

Bryce Rigney and Leslie Rigney

Baja California & Mexico, Eric's Posts, Galapagos, Mindset

Tough Lesson

August 18, 2015 admin 12 Comments

The 18-day crossing from Paradise Village, Nuevo Vallarta (near Puerto Vallarta) Mexico to Puerto Villamil, Isla Isabela in the Galapagos was difficult. The weak and variable winds, thunderstorms/squalls, and mixed seas wore us down and consumed nearly all our diesel. Mid-May marked the beginning of the northern hemisphere hurricane season. For us, that translated into high sea temperatures that saturated the humid horizon with afternoon and evening thunderheads. At one latitude, sea and ocean shared the same temperature: 89oF, making refrigeration a full time job. Rain forced us to close nearly all Kandu’s hatches and portlights. Under such aquatic lockdown, internal cabin humidity became oppressive.

Sleeping takes us away... — Sleeping takes us away…

The RADAR scanned for squalls and showers, which formed mostly at night in the beginning, but then bled into the day, such that every hour felt like we were dodging something. Rain appears in red on our chart-plotter, giving squalls a vampiresque appearance. Near the end, we gave up running away and took our wet licks hoping we’d avoid lightening. Southern depressions and east-southeast winds made mixed seas the whole way. We later learned the unusually heavy swell from these southern depressions caused much damage in the Galapagos and in parts of southern Mexico after we left. For us, that southern swell made for an uncomfortable ride. It was difficult to get anything done. Even sleeping was difficult.

Satellite texting was our greatest entertainment, reaching out and communicating with family and friends (and manufacturers). Every time the device chirped, each of us wondered for who the message would be. My long time friend, Deren, did a lot of legwork for me from his Puget Sound home, as we tried to resolve problems while underway. I’d give him the background, he’d do the research and reach out to the manufacturer for support. Our system worked well.

As the winds switched back and forth in velocity and direction, we made such little progress. Normally, over a long distance, Kandu seemed to average about 5.25 knots/hour, or 125 nautical miles a day: our performance when we sailed down the Baja coast from San Diego, and so that’s the basis I used to calculate how long it would take us to arrive in the Galapagos. With little wind and higher than normal seas, we motor-sailed so we could average closer to 90 nautical miles (1 nm=1.167 miles) a day under the keel. As we got closer to our targeted port, the wind and swell shifted toward our nose causing us to have to tack back and forth, so while we passed 90 nm of water across our water line, our distance over land shrunk to 40 nm/day.

As we got closer, we also developed a charging problem: the engine’s alternator was no longer charging the batteries. We were using the ship’s batteries to power our autopilot, chart-plotter, RADAR, and refrigeration. When wind conditions allowed, we’d use our windvane to steer the boat, but that was not as often as we would have liked. The 2kw gas-powered Honda generator didn’t charge the batteries very quickly, so at times we had both Kandu’s diesel engine running while we ran the generator: a veritable cacophony of combustibles.

The slow performance, rough motion, high humidity, and power issues brought me to a point of significant doubt, questioning the whole plan to sail around the world. Having spent more than three years of great effort and financial commitment to get to this point, with no end of effort and expense in sight, with great discomfort to all on board, it wasn’t making sense to continue. My goal was to bring us closer as a family as we explored together the wonders of the world, working as a crew aboard our proud vessel. Why not sell the boat, take the money and rent places in beautiful, remote places around the world instead. At the rate we were going, we could only support ourselves two, maybe three years. And so far, I was having very little fun, and the boys and Leslie were upset that my attention remained focused on the needs of the boat, no time for play and exploration. In Mexico, we missed all the good stuff. We missed seeing and petting the grey whales in Baja by four days. We missed an exceptional festival in Banderas Bay by a couple weeks. We were late in the season to leave Mexico for Galapagos. We were always just shy of experiencing some wonderful event or ideal weather circumstance. I was exhausted and feeling deflated and defeated. How could I have so misjudged what the experience would entail? With my previous experience and years of research, how could I be so off the mark? I don’t recall ever being so wrong. My normal optimistic demeanor seemed more a sophomorically naive character flaw. As the rising sun struggled to light the morning sky, standing at the mast, still days away from a Galapagos arrival with fuel running out, batteries not charging, thunderheads still pouring rain on us, I wondered who I was and if I could do this . . . if I should do this.

Captaining a small sailboat across a couple thousand miles of eastern Pacific ocean with your wife, two young sons, and octogenarian uncle with a few more hundred miles to go before you reach the nearest point of land, . . . one has few options. There is no quitting. There is no room for self-pity. So, I ask, what then is the lesson? What is the reason for all this misery? Why am I at this low point? With such self-inflicted stress and burden, what can be learned? What can I take from this that will make all this loathing worthy? I’m not getting it, the lesson that must be slapping me in the face, the one that shouts at my soul. What is it? What am I supposed to learn from this??? Standing at the mast, I quiet my soul, my brain, my heart, and listen. I just wait and listen for the answer. It doesn’t take long, less than a minute, before it comes. Eric, you must sail the wind you have, not the wind you want, and you must sail it to the best of your ability with what you have, without burden, sans self-pity: realize the terms and adjust accordingly, with resolve and without angst–sail the wind you have, not the wind you want. It became my motto. If I have to tack back and forth for the next week, so be it. If I can do better, I will. If I can’t, I’ll accept that I’m doing my best and receive the outcome without judgment. It is what it is, and I’m doing the best with what I’ve got. What comes of it is good enough, and I will seek to be satisfied with what comes.

About four days later, we reached the Galapagos with less than 15 gal of diesel remaining from our tanks’ original 115. The benign weather normally associated with the bay we entered vanished on our approach, roughing up the bay and flooding the streets. It took two days to get cleared in and approved for landing, a story in itself, and another 6 days before our charging problem was resolved. After that, I enjoyed several days of Galapagos exploration together with the family. For the first time in three years, I was working on being a dad again. I recognize I have a lot of catching up to do, and that I’ll only get there by . . . sailing the wind I have.

Land Ho! Hoisting the courtesy and Q flags.

Arriving in the Galapagos on Uncle Bill's birthday, a lot to celebrate! — Arriving in the Galapagos on Uncle Bill’s birthday, a lot to celebrate!

by Eric Rigney

Baja California & Mexico, Eric's Posts, Experiential

Mexican Edge: Structures

July 7, 2015 admin 5 Comments

La Cruz's Colorful Central Square — La Cruz’s Colorful Central Square

Towns are planned and maintained differently in Mexico than from those of our native California. When it comes to zoning, which type of establishment should stand adjacent another, such seems freely decided by a property’s owners, not city planning. If a residence is found standing adjacent to a butcher, metal working place, or restaurant—so be it. And unlike the U.S.’s Protestant edict of “Cleanliness is next to Godliness,” theirs is a Catholic culture—“If it works, performing its needed function, then consider it maintained. Life is short. Spend your time with family, not fixing property.”

So, as with many Latin American towns, earthly dust covers all and everything within the town of La Cruz, except the most modern of establishments and vehicles, which are typically owned by the wealthier few. The sediment-coated buildings are often incomplete, in disrepair, and/or thickly painted with bright colors, bringing creativity and/or masking imperfections, or both. Stains, cracks, and exposed construction are the norm. The more dusty and disheveled a place, the more authentic it feels. If a property owner strives to manicure too perfectly his or her structure, he or she somehow foregoes Mexican culture, seeking instead to serve those outside the native community. Polished floors behind air-conditioned glass doors seem the domain of visitors and other, more seasonal inhabitants.

Corner approaching La Cruz's Central Square — Corner approaching La Cruz’s Central Square

As an example, take some of the establishments surrounding the town’s plaza. La Cruz’s central square is relatively new, perhaps less than 15 years old. It is joyfully designed and proudly multi-colorful, well used by the community. There is no celebration this week so it is not swept. On its quietist corner resides the town’s church. Bells in Mexico are not decoration. In California, bells hang in the bell tower, but the bells one hears are that of a recording through a speaker. In Mexico they actually ring their church bells, with gusto, long ropes are pulled from in front of the church, on Sundays and for religious celebrations.

Two blocks up, a 7-11 type convenience store, with its glass doors and neatly stacked beverage trays, “Sale” sign adhered, has a beverage-truck driver unloading its U.S. made product.

Back at the plaza, diagonal to the church, on the corner lot, across the main square, a half painted two-story building misses its second-story roof. Only dilapidated brick columns stand above its first floor “roof.” The downstairs is treated like an open-air storage unit of plastic lawn chairs and wooden tables, with what appears to be a misplaced but active cooler. An LED reading indicates its cold Celsius temperature. Its brilliantly lighted door advertises a beverage that’s not contained within its chilled chamber. Is that a kitchen in the corner?

Two doors down, a one-story establishment is painted freshly white. The quiet, likely pane-less windows are closed shut with white wooden planked panels. It looks new. No telltale brown dirt creeps up the base of its wall where it meets the public walkway. What is this place?

La Cruz, like much of Mexico, has much magic about her. Your eyes ignore what is not active, what is not attractive. During the day, corners, small cafes, and shops come to life. But it is at night, when the humid tropical air cools, lifting the weight of its daytime burden, that the town transforms into an enchanted village, her people coming out into the streets, populating the square. What was a motorway intersection is now a communal volleyball court for all to join, rotating in and out, laughing and cajoling under a solitary amber streetlight.

Under the cloak of the evening sky, dust, rust, exposed rebar, and peeling paint are invisible. The tables and chairs stored below the derelict looking storage unit are pulled out into the street and neatly arranged. Downstairs, opposite the simple kitchen, in the corner to the left . . . behind the mop, buckets and brooms . . . spies a hideaway circular cement stairway that brings you to the rooftop, offering a ‘skybox’ view of the volleyball action directly below. The bare columns hold up strings of small circular light bulbs. The overall transformation reveals a romantic rooftop street café. Music fills the square from the now opened windows of the newer, whitewashed establishment, unveiling a restaurant-bar. Live Latin and popular American music emanates from its small lit stage, a bold seascape mural painted on the white wall behind its bar. Gone are thoughts of construction deficiencies—the structures are perfect, their simplicity, enviable. We love this place.

Eric Rigney

Baja California & Mexico, Eric's Posts, Galapagos, Itinerary, Mindset

Remiss

June 2, 2015 admin 7 Comments

GAL Thunderhead — Thunderheads surround and engulf Kandu on way to Galapagos

Since arriving in La Cruz, Bandaras Bay, the push for me has been to get Kandu going and to keep her so. Several unexpected problems of significant proportion required my undivided attention and complete effort: physically, mentally, and emotionally. Delays were compounded by the pressures of the upcoming hurricane season, the French Polynesian visa requirement that we arrive in June, and the disappointment of having to cross so many desirous locations off our list. These demands left little time for visiting Mexico or writing. I went to bed exhausted around 8pm and woke around 5am. The pressure was non-stop. We knew that once we left Mexico, any chance of getting parts would be very difficult, time constraining, and costly. It felt like “now or never.”

Eric on evening watch off Mexican coast aboard Kandu

At one point, it looked like the lack of supportive wind would force us to cross Galapagos off our itinerary, a magical place I really didn’t want to miss. Realizing that the wind would not be dangerous, but variable, light, and rain-riddened, we made the decision to suck it up, spend the fuel, and go for it.

Red marks on RADAR heavy rain and Kandu in the midst.

The sail to the Galapagos was uncomfortable and discouraging. Sailing in confused seas (again), motor sailing often, having to dodge thunderstorms and squalls day and night, all as we passed under the latitude of the sun and its intense tropical heat (sea temp 89^oF), against the southeast trades and current, placed in jeopardy the whole idea of sailing around the world. Rain forced us to close all hatches and portlights, cutting off ventilation. Were it not for the portable 12-volt fans throughout the boat, we would have drowned in our own sweat. I often sleep in the cockpit so Bryce and Trent have easy access to me should they have any question. The last 4 days were the worst, as we tacked back and forth against ever-changing winds, through wet thunderheads, rocking in all directions, while discovering that our alternator charging system (the engine powers the alternator that makes electricity to charge the ship’s batteries) had failed for some unknown reason.

Land Ho! After 17 days, Isla Isabela — Land Ho! After 17 days, rain clouds shroud Isla Isabela at sunrise just below the equator.

Arriving in Puerto Villamil at the southern tip of Isla Isabela, the largest of the Galapagos islands, 17 days after leaving Mexico, we focus on meeting the complex entry requirements. Were it not for the help of our agent, JC DeSoto, we’d not have done so well. Entry permitted, and although many more standard issues beckon, I apply intense focus on resolving the alternator problem. It takes 8 days, more than half of our intended stay. In between the other boat maintenance requirement and preparing for the next, and longest crossing, I visit Galapagos with the family, taking several half-day excursions, land and sea.

Time constraints of the Galapagos and of French Polynesia require we leave now. Instead of sailing to Gambier, a less comfortable sail, we’ve opted for sailing directly to the Marquesas, a more favorable direction with regard to wind and sea. I can’t very much afford another uncomfortable crossing if I want to keep morale up for a 25-day crossing. In Gambier, we’d have to leave after a week or two. In the Marquesas, we can stay a month or longer, providing the rest and stability we all crave. Off to the Marquesas we go.

Marina Iguana Yoga — Marina Iguana yoga position

The intensity of effort to prepare Kandu for the Galapagos and beyond, combined with the power issue that developed along the way, prevented me from blogging. Although I have many stories to share, I’m going to have to wait until we settle into the Marquesas before I can publish. Appreciating that such breaks from regular posting are the death of a blog-site, I hope you’ll bear with us and reap the reward once we are able to share once again on a more regular basis. In the meantime, for those on Facebook and/or Twitter, we have been posting regularly to these sites via our satellite texting device, Delorme inReach SE, which provides not only the text, but a link back to our current position. The same device provides the tracking and map location of Kandu, a link to which is provided on this site’s front page. So if you’re needing your RigneyKandu fix, look for us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/rigneyskandu or me up on Facebook (Eric Rigney) or on Twitter@RigneysKandu until we can get back to delivering more in-depth writing.

Thanks for sticking with us!!!

Eric Rigney

Baja California & Mexico, Eric's Posts, Experiential

Bahia Maria: New Experiences

May 6, 2015 admin 2 Comments

April 7, 2015

A couple of days ago on Thursday, April 2^nd, we sailed to Bahia Maria from Bahia Tortugas. By the way, the Spanish word “Bahia” means “Bay.” We were told that it was a great surf spot. When we got there it was too windy to do much of anything except put the boat away, eat dinner, take outdoor showers, and rest from our 48 hours of sailing. The next morning, Kandu motored over to the other side of the bay to find some good surf. As we were looking at the waves, we saw on the beach some sand dunes. They looked like they could be really fun to slide down. Dad didn’t want us to go right away to the sand dunes because the only reason we were at Bahia Maria was to surf. So we found a nice spot and Bryce and I set off to go surfing. The waves were okay, but after an hour or more, we decided it was time to go sand duning.

Bryce and I paddled back to the boat to get ready for the dunes. Dad motored Kandu over to where the dunes looked the best and Bryce and I headed off on our banana yellow kayak with boogie boards. Once we got close to the waves we waited for a set to go by and started paddling as hard as we could. We looked behind us and we saw a wave forming, so we paddled even harder and faster. Unfortunately the wave crashed right behind the kayak and hit us. We totally failed at staying dry. I jumped off the kayak so it wouldn’t flip over, and started running with all my might, the kayak following right behind me. Bryce also jumped off, but into deeper water. We made it to shore, just a bit wetter than we had wanted. We had a really great time sand duning.