We look at this totally flat water and wonder how it can possibly be blowing a gale on the bay, but every time we turn on NOAA weather, we hear the same thing: small-craft advisories, gale winds to 40 knots out of the southwest, seas 6 to 16 feet. The boat's ready to go, and we're ready to go, but Mama Nature says, "Forget it," so here we sit, wondering if we'll ever get away from here.
Did the laundry and went to the Post Office. Roy continued working on the boat. It was comfortably warm today. Thunderstorms are predicted for tomorrow.
At nine o'clock this evening, I had just gone to bed when I was startled by a loud noise. It sounded like a rock hitting the side of the boat. It WAS a rock hitting the side of the boat. A bunch of kids on the bridge were celebrating Halloween by throwing rocks at the boats in the marina. The boat next to ours had a window broken, but there doesn't appear to be any damage to the Jofian. Roy immediately popped up from the main cabin to the cockpit, and the kids took off. Roy grabbed a flashlight and went after them, but they were long gone.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Sunday, October 30, 1994 - New Bedford, MA
Back on Standard Time. This is a beautiful, clear, sunny, fairly calm day. It's hard to believe it's blowing 20 knots on the Bay.
Roy continued working on the boat. I rode my bike to the grocery store for a couple of things. A little before two, we walked to the Chinese restaurant for a buffet lunch. In the evening, we went for a little stroll.
I phoned my friend Marilyn to let her know we were leaving. She took me for a nice drive a few weeks ago. I also tried to phone Linda but only got to talk with her answering machine. Roy phoned his daughter Laura and talked with her.
Roy continued working on the boat. I rode my bike to the grocery store for a couple of things. A little before two, we walked to the Chinese restaurant for a buffet lunch. In the evening, we went for a little stroll.
I phoned my friend Marilyn to let her know we were leaving. She took me for a nice drive a few weeks ago. I also tried to phone Linda but only got to talk with her answering machine. Roy phoned his daughter Laura and talked with her.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Saturday, October 29, 1994 - New Bedford,
I've had a minor but annoying physical problem for two or three weeks. I knew I should see a physician, but I kept trying over-the-
counter remedies, hoping they'd work, and for a while, I thought they had. I felt great all day Thursday, when I went to Boston, and most of yesterday, but yesterday evening, here came my problem again, so I made up my mind I would definitely go to the doctor in the morning.
I'm always leery about walk-in clinics. I had a bad experience at one in Milpitas, and Roy went to one in Port Townsend that wanted $140 up front before they'd even talk with him, so he left. On the other hand, the walk-in clinic I went to in Morehead City was excellent, so I hoped for the best. Early this morning, I walked to the clinic in Fairhaven, hoping the doctor would speak English and have some vague notion of what he was doing. As it turned out, he was a native-born speaker of English and an excellent physician. He was about sixty years old, so I wasn't his first patient. He had a good sense of humor, took his time, and inspired my confidence. He gave me two prescriptions, which I filled on the way home. I feel better already.
Wow! What a terrific invitation we've received! "Crazy Eddie" Longo, the owner of the marina, has a waterfront vacation home in Aruba, and he's invited us to anchor in front of his house! We're really looking forward to that. Warm, clear water, excellent swimming and diving, a great place for our friends and relatives to visit us -- terrific! We'll probably spend several months there.
After our haulout was canceled, Roy and I had hoped to leave tomorrow morning, but the wind won't be favorable. It will be blowing 20 to 25 knots out of the southwest -- right on the nose. Roy has plenty to do on the boat, anyway, so he was busy all day, and I plotted our course to Newport.
counter remedies, hoping they'd work, and for a while, I thought they had. I felt great all day Thursday, when I went to Boston, and most of yesterday, but yesterday evening, here came my problem again, so I made up my mind I would definitely go to the doctor in the morning.
I'm always leery about walk-in clinics. I had a bad experience at one in Milpitas, and Roy went to one in Port Townsend that wanted $140 up front before they'd even talk with him, so he left. On the other hand, the walk-in clinic I went to in Morehead City was excellent, so I hoped for the best. Early this morning, I walked to the clinic in Fairhaven, hoping the doctor would speak English and have some vague notion of what he was doing. As it turned out, he was a native-born speaker of English and an excellent physician. He was about sixty years old, so I wasn't his first patient. He had a good sense of humor, took his time, and inspired my confidence. He gave me two prescriptions, which I filled on the way home. I feel better already.
Wow! What a terrific invitation we've received! "Crazy Eddie" Longo, the owner of the marina, has a waterfront vacation home in Aruba, and he's invited us to anchor in front of his house! We're really looking forward to that. Warm, clear water, excellent swimming and diving, a great place for our friends and relatives to visit us -- terrific! We'll probably spend several months there.
After our haulout was canceled, Roy and I had hoped to leave tomorrow morning, but the wind won't be favorable. It will be blowing 20 to 25 knots out of the southwest -- right on the nose. Roy has plenty to do on the boat, anyway, so he was busy all day, and I plotted our course to Newport.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Monday, April 12, 1993 - Puerto Madero & Friday, October 28, 1994 - New Bedford
(Still 3 weeks before Panama, but have also returned to New Bedford, so this is last post for now to Panama and also first post of preparing to sail in the Caribbean.)
We made it! We crossed the dread Golfo de Tehuantepec! And it was a piece of cake. Even the one little Tehuantepecer we ran into was a very mild one of short duration. Most of the time, there was either no wind at all or a nice sailing breeze. This afternoon was perfect. We turned off the engine and zoomed along at 6-7 knots. Boy, that felt good! So now all we have to do is dodge the pirates of El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua, the papagallo gales of Costa Rica, the muggers and pickpockets of Colon, and the malarial mosquitoes of Belize. After that we're home free.
We arrived at Puerto Madero shortly after sunset. Unfortunately, a ship was coming out just as we approached the breakwater, so we had to stop and wait for him to get out of the way. That cost us 10 or 15 precious minutes of daylight. By the time we got into the harbor, it was too dark to find the yacht basin, so we dropped anchor in the outer harbor. I had a feeling we weren't supposed to be there, but Roy said we were in 12 feet of water, so there was no danger of big ships coming that way. I felt sleepy, so I lay down on the foredeck to take a nap, but before I could get to sleep, the sound of a motor roused me. An unlit panga with three guys in it pulled up next to the Jofian. It was too dark to see them clearly, so we assumed they were fishermen come to offer us fish. I asked, "Pescado?" (Fish?) That was a mistake. They turned out to be "Armada de Mexico", Mexican Navy, telling us we couldn't anchor there. They didn't speak English, but their Spanish was plain enough. I told them, "No podemos ver" (We can't see), but they didn't care. They knew one word of English and they used it: "Move! Move!" So we pulled up the anchor, and they zoomed off.
According to our chart, there were two basins off the main harbor, but it was too dark to see the channels that led to them. A brightly lit dredge happened to come in at that moment, so we decided to follow it, assuming it was on its way to the large ship harbor, but it only went a short way and dropped anchor. We couldn't see if there was enough room to squeeze by him, so Roy started going around in circles. We were afraid we might have to spend the night circling, but then the Navy panga came zooming back, shouting, "Move! Move!" Again I said, "No podemos ver!" They indicated we should follow them, and they proceeded slowly ahead of us. Since they had no light, I stood in the bow shining the searchlight on them, so Roy could see where to go. It was a pitch dark night; we had no idea where we were going. For a while, I was afraid they were going to take us outside the breakwater and make us anchor in the ocean, but soon we could make out the outlines of other sailboats at anchor. The Navy guys said, "OK aqui," and zoomed off, so we dropped anchor, still not really knowing where we were.
We'd no sooner anchored than two boys in an inflatable chugged up and asked if we wanted diesel. We asked how much, and they told us 1200 a liter, which works out to about $1.60 a gallon, which is pretty high. We said, "Manana," and they left.
Fortunately, Roy only wanted a light supper, so we ate some soup and canned peaches. Then I collapsed into bed and zombied out.
Friday, October 28, 1994
Hello again. Roy returned yesterday, looking hale and hearty. Hard work must agree with him.
He didn't have a clue that I was going to meet him at the airport. I wanted to surprise him -- and I sure did! But I was surprised, too. He was supposed to arrive at 3:02 p.m. on Flight 1234 from Denver. I got to the airport at twenty to three and looked at the Continental monitor. No Flight 1234 was listed, no flight from Denver was listed, no flight scheduled to arrive at 3:02 was listed. Panic thoughts flashed through my mind: the plane had crashed, the flight had been canceled, the plane had gotten in an hour early and Roy was already on his way to the boat. Naw, whoever heard of a flight getting in early!
The line at the ticket counter was a mile long, so I went to the First Class counter, which was only one deep. The clerk informed me that Flight 1234 from Denver had been replaced by Flight 1216 from Cleveland, which was due in at 4:10. She checked on the computer and found Grabenauer, so that was a relief. (Sometimes it helps to have a name that isn't Smith or Jones -- or Holt!)
At four o'clock, I rechecked the monitor. Flight 1216 was now due in at 4:27. Par for the course.
When the plane landed, I hid behind a big square pillar, where Roy couldn't see me. As soon as he walked past, I sneaked up in back of him and asked, "Do you have a feeling you're being followed?" Talk about a double take! He looked at me as if he'd never seen me before in his life; then he recognized me, and we both burst out laughing. Passersby must have thought we were a couple of escapees from the local loony bin. We were both very glad to see each other again.
On the way home, we got caught up on conversation. During our weekly telephone conversation last Sunday, Roy had asked me to make a reservation at Kelley's Boatyard for a quickie haulout. He wanted to inspect the hull, replace the zincs, and install the new cable for the Sumlog. So on Monday, I rode my bike over there and talked with the Operations Manager. Their prices were a little high -- $5 a foot for the haulout, including the return, $2 a foot for the pressure wash, and $1 a foot for laydays -- but we could live aboard, and Roy could do his own work, so I made what I thought was a reservation for next Monday. I wanted to set a specific time, but the manager said to phone him one or two days before the haulout to set the time. He assured me there would be no problem hauling out on Monday.
Today, Friday, Roy busied himself putting away all the tons of gear he had shipped back from California and figuring out where to install the new diesel heater. I pulled the wagon over to the Post Office and brought home the last of the boxes he had shipped. We also checked some other yards, but Kelley's was the cheapest, so I tried to phone the Operations Manager, whom I had talked with last Monday. It turned out he had the day off. The woman in the office said I'd have to talk with Mr. McLaughlin, but he was on the other line. I called back later, and McLaughlin was busy in the yard. Roy and I wanted to look the place over anyway, so we rode our bikes over there to talk with him in person. It turned out the Operations Manager had never said one word to McLaughlin about hauling out the Jofian, and they were booked solid for Monday. In fact, the earliest they could haul us was Wednesday, so we said, "Forget it." There's nothing urgent about hauling out here; the boat hasn't leaked a drop, so we'll just head south. We're going to haul out in Norfolk, anyway.
This evening, the wind died down. Roy wanted to take advantage of the calm to turn the boat around, so we'd be headed out. He got all the lines ready but forgot to cleat the stern line, so the boat nearly got away from us. Fortunately, there were a couple of other lines attached to the boat, so we were able to salvage the situation. Jofian is now tied to the outside of the dock, ready to leave as soon as we get a weather window.
We made it! We crossed the dread Golfo de Tehuantepec! And it was a piece of cake. Even the one little Tehuantepecer we ran into was a very mild one of short duration. Most of the time, there was either no wind at all or a nice sailing breeze. This afternoon was perfect. We turned off the engine and zoomed along at 6-7 knots. Boy, that felt good! So now all we have to do is dodge the pirates of El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua, the papagallo gales of Costa Rica, the muggers and pickpockets of Colon, and the malarial mosquitoes of Belize. After that we're home free.
We arrived at Puerto Madero shortly after sunset. Unfortunately, a ship was coming out just as we approached the breakwater, so we had to stop and wait for him to get out of the way. That cost us 10 or 15 precious minutes of daylight. By the time we got into the harbor, it was too dark to find the yacht basin, so we dropped anchor in the outer harbor. I had a feeling we weren't supposed to be there, but Roy said we were in 12 feet of water, so there was no danger of big ships coming that way. I felt sleepy, so I lay down on the foredeck to take a nap, but before I could get to sleep, the sound of a motor roused me. An unlit panga with three guys in it pulled up next to the Jofian. It was too dark to see them clearly, so we assumed they were fishermen come to offer us fish. I asked, "Pescado?" (Fish?) That was a mistake. They turned out to be "Armada de Mexico", Mexican Navy, telling us we couldn't anchor there. They didn't speak English, but their Spanish was plain enough. I told them, "No podemos ver" (We can't see), but they didn't care. They knew one word of English and they used it: "Move! Move!" So we pulled up the anchor, and they zoomed off.
According to our chart, there were two basins off the main harbor, but it was too dark to see the channels that led to them. A brightly lit dredge happened to come in at that moment, so we decided to follow it, assuming it was on its way to the large ship harbor, but it only went a short way and dropped anchor. We couldn't see if there was enough room to squeeze by him, so Roy started going around in circles. We were afraid we might have to spend the night circling, but then the Navy panga came zooming back, shouting, "Move! Move!" Again I said, "No podemos ver!" They indicated we should follow them, and they proceeded slowly ahead of us. Since they had no light, I stood in the bow shining the searchlight on them, so Roy could see where to go. It was a pitch dark night; we had no idea where we were going. For a while, I was afraid they were going to take us outside the breakwater and make us anchor in the ocean, but soon we could make out the outlines of other sailboats at anchor. The Navy guys said, "OK aqui," and zoomed off, so we dropped anchor, still not really knowing where we were.
We'd no sooner anchored than two boys in an inflatable chugged up and asked if we wanted diesel. We asked how much, and they told us 1200 a liter, which works out to about $1.60 a gallon, which is pretty high. We said, "Manana," and they left.
Fortunately, Roy only wanted a light supper, so we ate some soup and canned peaches. Then I collapsed into bed and zombied out.
Friday, October 28, 1994
Hello again. Roy returned yesterday, looking hale and hearty. Hard work must agree with him.
He didn't have a clue that I was going to meet him at the airport. I wanted to surprise him -- and I sure did! But I was surprised, too. He was supposed to arrive at 3:02 p.m. on Flight 1234 from Denver. I got to the airport at twenty to three and looked at the Continental monitor. No Flight 1234 was listed, no flight from Denver was listed, no flight scheduled to arrive at 3:02 was listed. Panic thoughts flashed through my mind: the plane had crashed, the flight had been canceled, the plane had gotten in an hour early and Roy was already on his way to the boat. Naw, whoever heard of a flight getting in early!
The line at the ticket counter was a mile long, so I went to the First Class counter, which was only one deep. The clerk informed me that Flight 1234 from Denver had been replaced by Flight 1216 from Cleveland, which was due in at 4:10. She checked on the computer and found Grabenauer, so that was a relief. (Sometimes it helps to have a name that isn't Smith or Jones -- or Holt!)
At four o'clock, I rechecked the monitor. Flight 1216 was now due in at 4:27. Par for the course.
When the plane landed, I hid behind a big square pillar, where Roy couldn't see me. As soon as he walked past, I sneaked up in back of him and asked, "Do you have a feeling you're being followed?" Talk about a double take! He looked at me as if he'd never seen me before in his life; then he recognized me, and we both burst out laughing. Passersby must have thought we were a couple of escapees from the local loony bin. We were both very glad to see each other again.
On the way home, we got caught up on conversation. During our weekly telephone conversation last Sunday, Roy had asked me to make a reservation at Kelley's Boatyard for a quickie haulout. He wanted to inspect the hull, replace the zincs, and install the new cable for the Sumlog. So on Monday, I rode my bike over there and talked with the Operations Manager. Their prices were a little high -- $5 a foot for the haulout, including the return, $2 a foot for the pressure wash, and $1 a foot for laydays -- but we could live aboard, and Roy could do his own work, so I made what I thought was a reservation for next Monday. I wanted to set a specific time, but the manager said to phone him one or two days before the haulout to set the time. He assured me there would be no problem hauling out on Monday.
Today, Friday, Roy busied himself putting away all the tons of gear he had shipped back from California and figuring out where to install the new diesel heater. I pulled the wagon over to the Post Office and brought home the last of the boxes he had shipped. We also checked some other yards, but Kelley's was the cheapest, so I tried to phone the Operations Manager, whom I had talked with last Monday. It turned out he had the day off. The woman in the office said I'd have to talk with Mr. McLaughlin, but he was on the other line. I called back later, and McLaughlin was busy in the yard. Roy and I wanted to look the place over anyway, so we rode our bikes over there to talk with him in person. It turned out the Operations Manager had never said one word to McLaughlin about hauling out the Jofian, and they were booked solid for Monday. In fact, the earliest they could haul us was Wednesday, so we said, "Forget it." There's nothing urgent about hauling out here; the boat hasn't leaked a drop, so we'll just head south. We're going to haul out in Norfolk, anyway.
This evening, the wind died down. Roy wanted to take advantage of the calm to turn the boat around, so we'd be headed out. He got all the lines ready but forgot to cleat the stern line, so the boat nearly got away from us. Fortunately, there were a couple of other lines attached to the boat, so we were able to salvage the situation. Jofian is now tied to the outside of the dock, ready to leave as soon as we get a weather window.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Easter Sunday, April 11, 1993 - On way Puerto Madero
When I lay down yesterday, I thought Roy would wake me at ten, so we could eat supper and leave, but he let me sleep, bless his heart. I didn't wake up until after five this morning. That was quite a nap.
We got a favorable weather report from Port Control, so right after breakfast, we left.
As we were leaving the bay, another U.S. sailboat, the "Ossuna", hailed us on VHF. They had spent the night in Salina Cruz and were about 2 miles behind us. They're also going to Costa Rica, so they'll be following us quite a ways. They don't plan on stopping in Puerto Madero, however.
Delightful breeze this morning. Perfect temperature. Had all four sails up, but also used the engine for extra speed. Around noon, the wind died down, then shifted to southeast, so we were able to continue motorsailing.
Heidi on the Ossuna called us on the VHF and chatted for a few minutes. A very calm, peaceful day.
We got a favorable weather report from Port Control, so right after breakfast, we left.
As we were leaving the bay, another U.S. sailboat, the "Ossuna", hailed us on VHF. They had spent the night in Salina Cruz and were about 2 miles behind us. They're also going to Costa Rica, so they'll be following us quite a ways. They don't plan on stopping in Puerto Madero, however.
Delightful breeze this morning. Perfect temperature. Had all four sails up, but also used the engine for extra speed. Around noon, the wind died down, then shifted to southeast, so we were able to continue motorsailing.
Heidi on the Ossuna called us on the VHF and chatted for a few minutes. A very calm, peaceful day.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Saturday, April 10, 1993 - Bahia Ventosa, on way Puerto Madero
Motored peacefully all night. In the morning, a perfect sailing breeze came up--45 degrees, 15-20 knots. So we turned off the engine, raised the sails, and enjoyed the best sail we've had in quite a while.
The Gulf of Tehuantepec is one of the windiest places in the world. Northeast winds in the western Gulf of Mexico sweep across the isthmus, gathering momentum on the way. By the time they reach the Gulf of Tehuantepec, they're usually at gale force, 40 to 50 knots, and are known as "Tehuantepecers". The safest way to cross the gulf is by staying close to shore, having "one foot on the beach," as they say. The Tehuantepecers can come up at any time, without warning. Many boats have been lost trying to cut straight across the gulf instead of going the extra 30 miles along the coast.
We had been hugging the coast as we should. There was a freighter behind us, going the same speed we were. The land fell away to the west, so I was going to turn to port and continue following the coast. Unfortunately, just then the freighter turned to port. Apparently, he was going to cut in back of us and pass us on our port side. I didn't want to confuse him by changing course, so I kept going straight ahead, getting farther and farther from land. The wind is just as strong no matter where you are, but the waves haven't had a chance to build up close to land. The farther out you are, the bigger the waves, and they're what do the damage. Suddenly, we got hit by 30-40 knot winds from the northeast. We waited until the freighter had passed; then we dropped the sails, started the engine, and headed straight towards land, bouncy, bouncy. We rounded a point and anchored in Bahia Chipehua. It was so windy, it took me half an hour just to get the anchor ready. I had to practically crawl out to the bow on my hands and knees. Waves kept slapping over the bow, giving me a shower. By the time I was through, my hair looked as if I'd set it with kindergarten paste while standing in front of an electric fan, using an egg-beater for a comb. But that's ok; the beauty contest isn't until next week.
We could see a lot of people and palapas on the beach. A panga with about eight guys in it came alongside and asked us in English where we were from and where we were going. We told them, and Roy gave them a bag of candy, which made them happy.
We ate lunch and rested a while. Talked with Salina Cruz Port Control on the VHF and got the weather report: 25-35 knot northeast wind, as we knew. I wanted to stay where we were until the wind died down, but the anchor chain was being jolted violently and frequently, so Roy decided to head north to Bahia Ventosa (Windy Bay) to get out of the wind. Okay.
Expecting a long, rough trip, I went below to take a nap. To my surprise, when I woke up two hours later, we were already at Salina Cruz! I don't know how we got there so fast.
Salina Cruz is a hot, dry, dusty, ugly industrial port. There's an oil refinery there and a lot of tanks. It's the sort of place no one would live in unless he was born there. A person would have to be totally desperate for a job to deliberately move there.
We didn't want to go into Salina Cruz, so we went around the point and anchored in Bahia Ventosa, where it was relatively calm and peaceful. We could see a lot of people on the beach and hear music playing.
We got an update on the weather from Port Control. The wind would be dying down that night, so we decided to leave at midnight. Roy lay down in the main cabin to take a nap. I updated the log, washed the brine out of my hair, and lay down in the aft cabin to take a nap.
The Gulf of Tehuantepec is one of the windiest places in the world. Northeast winds in the western Gulf of Mexico sweep across the isthmus, gathering momentum on the way. By the time they reach the Gulf of Tehuantepec, they're usually at gale force, 40 to 50 knots, and are known as "Tehuantepecers". The safest way to cross the gulf is by staying close to shore, having "one foot on the beach," as they say. The Tehuantepecers can come up at any time, without warning. Many boats have been lost trying to cut straight across the gulf instead of going the extra 30 miles along the coast.
We had been hugging the coast as we should. There was a freighter behind us, going the same speed we were. The land fell away to the west, so I was going to turn to port and continue following the coast. Unfortunately, just then the freighter turned to port. Apparently, he was going to cut in back of us and pass us on our port side. I didn't want to confuse him by changing course, so I kept going straight ahead, getting farther and farther from land. The wind is just as strong no matter where you are, but the waves haven't had a chance to build up close to land. The farther out you are, the bigger the waves, and they're what do the damage. Suddenly, we got hit by 30-40 knot winds from the northeast. We waited until the freighter had passed; then we dropped the sails, started the engine, and headed straight towards land, bouncy, bouncy. We rounded a point and anchored in Bahia Chipehua. It was so windy, it took me half an hour just to get the anchor ready. I had to practically crawl out to the bow on my hands and knees. Waves kept slapping over the bow, giving me a shower. By the time I was through, my hair looked as if I'd set it with kindergarten paste while standing in front of an electric fan, using an egg-beater for a comb. But that's ok; the beauty contest isn't until next week.
We could see a lot of people and palapas on the beach. A panga with about eight guys in it came alongside and asked us in English where we were from and where we were going. We told them, and Roy gave them a bag of candy, which made them happy.
We ate lunch and rested a while. Talked with Salina Cruz Port Control on the VHF and got the weather report: 25-35 knot northeast wind, as we knew. I wanted to stay where we were until the wind died down, but the anchor chain was being jolted violently and frequently, so Roy decided to head north to Bahia Ventosa (Windy Bay) to get out of the wind. Okay.
Expecting a long, rough trip, I went below to take a nap. To my surprise, when I woke up two hours later, we were already at Salina Cruz! I don't know how we got there so fast.
Salina Cruz is a hot, dry, dusty, ugly industrial port. There's an oil refinery there and a lot of tanks. It's the sort of place no one would live in unless he was born there. A person would have to be totally desperate for a job to deliberately move there.
We didn't want to go into Salina Cruz, so we went around the point and anchored in Bahia Ventosa, where it was relatively calm and peaceful. We could see a lot of people on the beach and hear music playing.
We got an update on the weather from Port Control. The wind would be dying down that night, so we decided to leave at midnight. Roy lay down in the main cabin to take a nap. I updated the log, washed the brine out of my hair, and lay down in the aft cabin to take a nap.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Friday, April 9, 1993 - Hualtuco, on way Puerto Madero
Passed Puerto Escondido in the middle of the night. Passed Puerto Angel right after breakfast. At one p.m., we dropped anchor in the harbor at Hualtuco. This is the last place to hole up before entering the Gulf of Tehuantepec. We expected a tiny fishing village. Instead, we found the hub of a grandiose resort development that will take 30 years to complete! Already there are several first-class hotels and an inner harbor that is well-protected by two sturdily constructed breakwaters and has an attractive promenade all around it. There are a number of clean, sandy beaches. Thousands of Mexicans are here for the Holy Week vacation. If I were a Mexican, I'd a lot rather spend my vacation in Hualtuco than in that crowded, noisy, expensive Acapulco.
We ate lunch, and then Roy replaced the impeller, while I stayed out of his hair by going swimming and paddling. It was a very great sacrifice on my part, but I managed to bear up under it.
When he was through replacing the impeller, Roy got ready to go paddling, too. There was a lot of dirt and goop on the hull from Cabo San Lucas, so he went to get a brush to scrub it off with. I was still in my Royak, so I got out my sponge and began wiping off some of the goosh. There were a zillion pangas and jet skis and skidoos and whatnot zooming around, churning up the water. I was leaning over the side of my Royak, wiping Jofian's hull. A bunch of waves came along and flipped my Royak, which was fine--the water was warm, and I had my swimsuit on. I righted the Royak, got back in it, and continued washing the hull. A couple of minutes later, the same thing happened again. Unfortunately, this time Roy saw it. He got all excited and started yelling, "Turn your Royak over! Turn your Royak over!", which made me mad--as if I didn't have brains enough to know I needed to right my Royak. Anyway, I turned it right side up, got back in it, and paddled after the cushion. After I retrieved the cushion and bailed the water out of the back compartment, I turned back towards the boat and was delighted to see a Royak that had pulled its line loose and was drifting merrily away on its own. So I had the last laugh as I paddled after and retrieved Mr. Royak's Royak. Yuk yuk.
There were three other U.S. sailboats here, so we paddled over and talked with some of the people. They gave us a lot of valuable information, especially that we could get weather reports from Salina Cruz Port Control in fluent English. We could contact them on VHF channel 16 or 6, or on single sideband, 8242.8 transmit, 8792.8 receive. We haven't been able to get the nets clearly since we left Puerto Vallarta, so it's good to know where we can get weather information.
Paddled around for a while. Then ate supper and enjoyed the delightful evening breeze. Around 8 o'clock, we pulled up the anchor and headed northeast into the Gulf. As we were leaving, Roy shone the searchlight on the water, and a thousand fish jumped into the air! Amazing sight!
We ate lunch, and then Roy replaced the impeller, while I stayed out of his hair by going swimming and paddling. It was a very great sacrifice on my part, but I managed to bear up under it.
When he was through replacing the impeller, Roy got ready to go paddling, too. There was a lot of dirt and goop on the hull from Cabo San Lucas, so he went to get a brush to scrub it off with. I was still in my Royak, so I got out my sponge and began wiping off some of the goosh. There were a zillion pangas and jet skis and skidoos and whatnot zooming around, churning up the water. I was leaning over the side of my Royak, wiping Jofian's hull. A bunch of waves came along and flipped my Royak, which was fine--the water was warm, and I had my swimsuit on. I righted the Royak, got back in it, and continued washing the hull. A couple of minutes later, the same thing happened again. Unfortunately, this time Roy saw it. He got all excited and started yelling, "Turn your Royak over! Turn your Royak over!", which made me mad--as if I didn't have brains enough to know I needed to right my Royak. Anyway, I turned it right side up, got back in it, and paddled after the cushion. After I retrieved the cushion and bailed the water out of the back compartment, I turned back towards the boat and was delighted to see a Royak that had pulled its line loose and was drifting merrily away on its own. So I had the last laugh as I paddled after and retrieved Mr. Royak's Royak. Yuk yuk.
There were three other U.S. sailboats here, so we paddled over and talked with some of the people. They gave us a lot of valuable information, especially that we could get weather reports from Salina Cruz Port Control in fluent English. We could contact them on VHF channel 16 or 6, or on single sideband, 8242.8 transmit, 8792.8 receive. We haven't been able to get the nets clearly since we left Puerto Vallarta, so it's good to know where we can get weather information.
Paddled around for a while. Then ate supper and enjoyed the delightful evening breeze. Around 8 o'clock, we pulled up the anchor and headed northeast into the Gulf. As we were leaving, Roy shone the searchlight on the water, and a thousand fish jumped into the air! Amazing sight!
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