Costa Ricissimo!

We had hoped when we finally tucked in behind Cabo Sant Elena (Costa Rica) the seas would die down in the lee of this cape ...

Not so.

The past several days have delivered winds averaging in the high 20s (alternately ducking into the teens and gusting into the mid 30s) with square short-set waves sending spray everywhere. The hatches are dribbling, we have been living on our ear – life has been tedious. Showering: non-existent. Cooking: difficult. Using the bathroom: heinous. Sleep: trying.

For some strange (?) reason – despite boisterous wind from an excellent angle – we have continued motor-sailing: BANGING into the seas at full throttle ... and the slamming has been intense. Sadly we zipped past Nicaragua (as well as Guatemala and El Salvador) missing their colorful cultures and primeval landscapes ... As if to punish us for the slight, Nicaragua sent us her worst Papagallo winds, and we huddled beneath the dodger or slept below decks, during the worst of these blasts.

Making landfall in Bahia Culebra, Costa Rica - past Islas Murcielagos and the reef jutting out east to west – the winds continued ‘til the last possible moment; and then finally there was calm ... ahhhhhh .... We motored to Marina Papagayo at the northwestern corner of the bay, where we’ll remain “quarantined” (at the pool / bar / gym / resort / game room ) until we get approval from customs & immigration ... then we’re released to explore the 13 anchorages here in Bahia Culebra before heading south to rendezvous with additional crew Dec 12 at Jaco.

We have well survived the Bahia Tehuantepec: a 900-mile voyage ... but are ready for some well-deserved R&R (Rum and ??? ) Enjoying the celebration of a successful passage, to a new port-of-call :-) Over & out xoxo

Festival of Lights

Dec 5
Shooting stars ... distant lightning ... bioluminescence ... flashing strobes on fishing pangas ...

We had our own magnificent 'festival of lights' last night, heralding the holiday season :-) Lightning flared over the towering volcanic peaks of Guatemala, illuminating the entire sky. Stars fell. Humble fishing boats (that didn't show up on radar) signaled their whereabouts with erratic strobe lights. Dolphins dashed around the boat, creating meteors of bioluminescence in the water, while staccato bursts of the neon-greenish light suggested schools of fish and other mysterious sea creatures. At one point we scared up a flock of seabirds, whose white bellies glowed red in our port bow light as thy took flight. It was magical, enchanting, and I literally squealed with joy and surprise at every new spark of light above and beyond.

Today those small birds (Petrel of some sort? Although they look like undersized Boobie birds, so we have started calling them 'A-cups') kept us company - and amused - for quite a while. They gathered in small flocks - 3, 4 or 5- and swung towards the boat, poised to land .. their raspy chirps chiding each other as if to say 'You go first!' - 'No, you!' - 'No, YOU!' ... only to abort at the very last instant. I paid keen attention to their antics, as God talks to me through the birds (yes, yes I know - you think I've lost the plot, who cares) I will explain more, once I have internet and am not sucking up all the sailmail minutes. Just sayin', we had a beautiful day at sea today: sunshine, dolphins, and plenty of fish!

We caught more Mahi than we can possibly eat - and after taking two & releasing two more, we reeled in our lines. Tonight Sharon is doing her magic with the fillets :-) Last night was my turn: stuffed the cleaned fish with julienned ginger, carrots and onions, and a dab of mayo, sealed in an envelope of foil schmeared with butter, and steamed on the barbie 20-30 min. Oooh la la!

Life onboard is good - we're standing watches, eating well, got the a/c on right now; we are off El Salvador and HOPING to get to Puesta del Sol Nicaragua tomorrow (Mon) by nightfall - if not we'll standoff til dawn. Stay tuned. LOVE YOU MUCH xoxo Mom / Betsy

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Sea-Saw

RIGHT OUT THE GATE the seas foretold what was to come: leaving Marina Chahue's slender rock-framed channel, the seas were rollin'. We seesawed out into the bay and turned left on a northeast track toward the apex of Bahia Tehuantepec. Everything was stowed, battened down, lunch and dinner made - so I napped ... until the seas were so steep I was airborne in my bunk and sleep was no longer an option. The autohelm was on, so I relieved it - hoping by hand I could avoid the worst of the 'slammers'.

The wind was still negligible. We were hugging the coast, in the lee of the point, hiding from the big wind: t we could see it coming. White horses romped in the dark blue seas to starboard, and kept getting closer .. it was as if we were on the on-ramp for the Windy Freeway: with the median between FRC and the windline growing narrower every minute. Within half an hour the wind was 20k and building. It as exciting to helm (and wet); the anemometer racking up the windspeed as we tacked in and out of the bays to avoid the worst of it, until we got around the point and could avoid it no longer. We were in the thick of it - the Tehuantepeccers - where the tremendous mountains fade to lowlands at the middle of the isthmus, and let the stiff cold breezes of North America blast through.

Hours later the excitement had worn off: living on your ear (the wind just skimmed 40k), rocking and slamming through the dark night, isn't much fun. But it was tolerable. As is common practice crossing the BofT, you hug the shore ("one foot on the beach") so the blustery weather doesn't have as much chance to build up big wind waves. It adds miles, and concern about hitting land, buoys, unmarked rocks or other traffic ... but we kept good watch all night and everything was fine.

1-3AM the night was moonless, dark; the stars dimmed by the perpetual haze - but a-plenty. I realized my confusion in finding familiar celestial friends: we were travewling east! Now, as a California Girl, I have sailed south, southwest, south-southeast, and even north (when it's time to take the boat home) but rarely do e sail east in California! (the desert gets in the way). The wind vacillated from 12-38 at whim, and the sails went up - down - in - out accordingly. The seas are willy-nilly - just all over the place and short set. There is not rhyme or reason to their patterns, in this vast fishless sea (no, we haven't caught anything lately!!).

Later, after the sun had risen, I admired the magnificent coast with its layer upon layer of mountains; conical shapes, spires, crags, notched peaks: towering high - boasting the miracle of creation. Clouds hug the highest summits: it is thrilling to think the Atlantic is just over the other side!!!

It is now 1030AM Saturday - and naptime. Over & out xoxo Betsy-Mom

** I LIED - WE JUST CAUGHT A BIG MAHI! woo hoo! We cross into Guatemalan waters tonight **

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on the eve of departure: 'less than ballistic'

We are all cramming in our last internet fixes - knowing we'll be out of touch the next five days ...

... the first of which looks to be Hades. After reviewing the latest weather forecasts Chewey sends out an email to his friends saying 'The wind hasn't totally abated, but we hope it will be less than ballistic.'

'Less than ballistic.' Looks like an a** kicking to me.

Having finished my chores in the a.m. I spent my last afternoon in Mexico luxuriating at Playa Chahue and the nearby hotel pool. The same wind that is likely to hammer us tomorrow afternoon made the beach delightful – slightly less humid, with a fresh, gusty breeze. After a while I left my lonely patch of playa – its pale, fine grit and tumultous crashing surf – for the hotel. Again I was the only one swimming, so I splashed and played and lapped the length of the pool (skirting the knobby seats at the swim-up bar) in the cool delicious water, and floated on my back looking at the frigate birds circling overhead. I continue to puzzle about why I’m here, what I’m doing – but my advisor tells me I’m ‘on the right track’ so I happily keep moving forward: even though the steps are wobbly and I can’t for the life of me see my destination. Some sort of passage or pilgrimage: I guess. Faithfully I move on -- I am eager, even excited, to experience what lies ahead!

Holy Molé

Dec 1 –
For the second time in a month I’ve had an amazing molé (last time in Cabo, this time in an authentic Oaxacan eatery) ... this is something I definitely need to learn how to make ;-) you could douse an old shoe with a good molé and it would be a gastronomic sensation ...

Marina Chahue is new, remote, and – for a marina – fairly clean. Thousands of silvery baitfish reside in the channel, drawing throngs of frigate birds (“friggin’ birds” we call them) that swirl overhead like vultures, hunting the fish ...

There’s a Capri (reminds me of fun times on Sue & Barry’s first boat) on the hard in the adjacent yard, named “Plum Crazy” - love it ;-)

A new condo-hotel opened just yesterday across the highway: I implore them to let me use the pool ... ahhhhh! It’s cool and refreshing and all-to-myself ;-)

We’re holed up in Marina Chahue (pron: Cha-way) waiting for the Tehuanapeccers* to relax a bit. (*these are the prevailing winds that blow this time of year - being ‘Gale Season’ while the rest of you are enjoying ‘Holiday Season’) across the Gulfo Tehuantepec** (**I think the loose translation of ‘Tehuantepec’ from the ancient Mayan term = wind-that-blows-balls-off-of-bulls ). Winds here originate from a high-pressure system over Texas, and whip down and across the Gulf of Mexico through the narrow isthmus – just 125m across – where a tmesis in the Sierra Madre provides a gap (the Chivela Pass) for the winds to whistle through. The venturi effect boosts the breeze to an average of Force 4: right now the forecasts are 30-35k ... we were hoping for something a tad lighter so our ears don’t get wet, but we will probably leave Friday at dawn ‘come hell or high water’ (in this case, the cliché being literal, not figurative) as we have a canal to cross (Panama) before Christmas! Other fun facts: the average temp. is 95F, the annual rainfall is 156”. This is one steamy place (malaria is rampant on the opposite / wetter coast) occupied predominantly by the indigenous Zapotecs: a matriarchal society.

We learn that from here – Huatulco – the wind is expected to be on the nose ‘til Salina Cruz; then we crack off for a hearty beam reach (30-50k) across Bahia Ventuosa (Windy Bay). The situation and place names are making me think of a new country western song: High Pressure Over Texas, Windy Bay, Solo Dios (One God); ‘Pomperos & Papagallos & Tehuantepeccers – Oh My!’ (sung to the tune of ‘Lions & Tigers & Bears – Oh My!’) ...

Much of what we do in port is prep for the next leg, and (among other things) that means re-provisioning! I love the local markets, where you buy whatever looks good - including sometimes strange foods :-? Yesterday’s shopping trip reaped tomatoes, onions, lettuce, green beans; zucchini, eggplant and peppers for ratatouille; we have a load of avocados, chayote, oranges, papaya, and ‘granadillas’ (I can’t remember the Castellano name ...) These tart wrinkly fruits remind me of the do-it-yourself-safari in South Africa with Scolby, KTB & JennJenn, when monkeys broke into our rondavel and zocked* our granadillas (*stole - in a very messy sort of way) – so of course I buy a sack of them, to rekindle that delightful memory :-D

Dec 2

The latest (8AM Thursday) passageweather.com forecast confirms our departure tomorrow morning Dec 3 at the high tide, and when there's enough daylight to see the rocks sprinkled throughout the harbor entrance. Winds are forecast to be in the 20-25 range so that is tolerable, and will get us on our way! We have nearly 900 miles to cover before we get to our next destination – Puesta del Sol, Nicaragua – which will take approx. four to five days: with much of that aft of the beam ;-) But the days are getting shorter, and the moon will be slight; so please keep us in your prayers for a smooth passage (and lots of fish)!! XO

Wa-HAKA!

We are cruising along the picturesque Oaxaca (wa-HAKA) coast, making about 8k on flat blue seas toward Huatulco. Having left Acapulco on Saturday, we weren’t sure of making it to Huatulco by dusk Sunday, so we ducked back to Puerto Angel for the night. Actually, we have no clue what time it is, what time the sun rises or sets ... we are traveling east so much we are crossing time zones and every day it is different. So – unaware of the times for sunrise/sunset/tides – Puerto Angel seemed the prudent destination. And it was gorgeous! A compact little harbor with rugged headlands on either side, and a stretch of palapa-peppered main beach that curves from north to southeast, connected to the beach in the northwest corner by a stone malecon carved out of the cliffs. I wish we’d had more time and been able to go ashore ... alas at the crack of dawn we were underway again.

Along the way we were dodging sea turtles by the hundreds. The beaches of Oaxaca are prime nesting grounds for turtles and they appear to ‘stand by for breeding’ in the waters off the sandy shore. Their shiny wet backs glisten in the sun, so they are easy to see – bobbing in the waves, creating a slalom course for FRC.

** Just arrived in Huatulco (29 NOV 1045HRS accd’g to the torture watch)! Glad we waited ‘til bright daylight ... the harbor entrance is hemmed by rocky reefs and the marina channel is narrow – with waves breaking against the foreboding cliff that holds the red beacon.

Sunrise over Aca-poo-poo

There are things that tip you off to an arrival, when you're otherwise dead asleep after a mid-night watch. An obvious change in course (that alters the motion of the boat) ... the sound of the main coming down . the purr of the engine coming on (or if you're motoring -a welcome decrease in RPMs) ...

I woke up to a pink Saturday morning as we approached Acapulco: the crimson sun rising through the haze making everything rosy: the first of the fishing fleet quietly peeling lines in the glassy sea. EVerything south of Zihuatanejo is 'virgin territory' for me: I've sailed the Pacific coast from SF to Z-town (and back & forth to Hawaii) and the Atlantic coast from Florianopolis, Brazil to Punta Arenas, Chile - and now have a chance to 'fill in the blanks' on FRC.

Last night was ultra dark, which made the bioluminesence all the more spectacular. Tiny sea creatures winked neon green in our wake,and dolphins shot glow-in-the-dark contrails alngside our hull. When the moon did rise over the distant towering mountains, it was smoldering amber and half-open, like a cat's eye. The night was pensive and mystical and I enjoyed the serenity of the sea. Now we're tied up waiting for the PEMEX dock to open (at 9AM) and perhaps spend a night (or two) in Acapulco.

ADDENDUM: By noon we were leaving Aca-poo-poo: a truly inhospitable place if there ever was one, from price gouging at the fueldocks to the haughty staff at the yacht club. Crumbling buildings and skyscrapers stretch as far as the eye can see: we were glad to go. We're heading direct to Huatulco (or maybe Puerto Angel if we can't get there by nightfall tomorrow): it is steamy and still, so a day at sea - even if we are motorsailing - will be welcome.

Our travels have taken on a relaxed cadence: we are all getting on well, are comfortable, and churning away the miles toward Panama (*extra line handlers are wanted for the canal crossing, if anyone is inclined!). I too am churning away the miles, or as Iris would say 'putting wheels on the pavement' - letting time and distance do their magic. I am about 1,300 miles into my journeys (SD - here) and starting to feel more like myself again ... and have even rediscovered the ability to laugh at myself, and at the present time am writing a sordid sad country song ;-) -- but that will have to wait for another email.

Sending love and blessings from the blue blue sea XOXO Betsy / Mom

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