Leaving San Carlos

We motored slowly from Bahia San Carlos at 0715 hours, savoring one last time the magic of the rising sun as it burned its way across the distinctive red hills and golden peaks surrounding the anchorage. By 1000 hours the wind had risen to 12 knots and the following seas were lifting us along downwind at the rate of five knots. By noon the winds were peaking at 22, the seas had grown to about six feet and sloppy, and whenever the wind and swells grabbed the helm and put us on a broad reach for a few moments we pegged the meter at 7.5 knots! We battened the hatches and tightened the running backstays, getting ready to ride the Tayana 37 freight train for the next 200 miles, as a three-day norther was predicted to blow.

Our plan was to get out ahead of the biggest winds, and sail all the way to a port called Topolobampo. This plan worked out pretty well, for the winds were perfect. The sea state, however, indicated that it had already been blowing for quite some time to the north of us, and we swooshed and leapt our way along, propelled partly by the wind, and partly by 6-8 foot swells tossing us forward every four seconds. Surfing our way through and down some of the larger swells, we were happy to be in a very seaworthy boat!

Skipjack for dinner!

By 3am, the wind dropped to where we were only making 1.3 knots, but the sea was still rough. Impossible (for Carla) to sleep, so we turned the ignition key and motored the next 12 hours to reach the open beaches of Bahia San Ignacio outside of Bahia Topolobampo. As we made our way to the anchorage, a mad zzzzzZZzzZzzzzz coming from the cockpit indicated that our cedar plug was doing its job! Ten minutes later Wade had brought in a nice skipjack tuna. Nothing better than fresh fish from the hook on the hook! Fish dinner, a beer, and bed. No other boats except the old bones of a wrecked tanker on the shore.

Sunset smiles after a long 33 hour trip and a fine fish dinner.

We awoke to the urgent rocking of Pelican Moon as she responded to some larger swells making their way into the bay. The winds outside were already up! Since the entrance to Bahia Topolobampo is flanked by miles of shoal banks, we had to exit the bay by nearly 10 miles before we could turn back and make our way through the tanker-infested entrance channel. Well, two were anchored outside, waiting for a more favorable tide, we imagine. So we passed shoulder to shoulder with the one big guy that was on the move, and searched for the blown spume-obscured buoys leading us ten more miles deep into the protected backwater. Feeling more than a little weatherbeaten, we gladly dropped our hook just outside the main channel in 15 feet of water. The winds continued to blow all that day and most of the next night, reaching at least 30 knots that we saw.

Heading out to sea to find the entrance to Bahia Topolobampo.

By the next morning things had temporarily calmed down, and we took advantage of the break in the action to add a second snubber to the anchor chain, which since then has been doing a fantastic job of reducing our motion. The only other cruising boat in the harbor is anchored a few hundred yards away, and he offered us a ride to shore when he took his dog in for the evening walk. Perfect! Not only did we get to enjoy an evening stroll through the small town, talking with kids and a local guy whose rottweiler leaped up onto tall conduit boxes and slapped high-fives on command, but we also got to check out the marina and the slip where we will leave Pelican Moon for a week.

And so, it is Tuesday morning and dry tropical sunlight pours into the cabin. We passed a quiet night and the norther seems to have blown itself out a day early. We’ll pull up our anchor in a  couple of hours on the rising tide, and tie up alongside all the cabin cruisers and fishing yachts, the only sailboat in the marina. Later we’ll take a bus the fifteen minutes over to the town of Los Mochis, where we need to investigate the ins and outs of hopping Mexico’s famous Chepe train through the highlands of the Sierra Madre and along the rim of the Barrancas de Cobre (Copper Canyon), a system of five river-torn canyons covering four times more acreage than the Grand Canyon. We expect to enjoy great views, hiking and mountain-biking. Rising over 8000 feet into the mountains and traversing 36 bridges and 87 tunnels along its 400-mile track, this drier train ride will be spectacular and we are looking forward to a fine adventure!

Can’t quite see the train from ‘way out here…