Day 3-7 of the Third Voyage: In which nothing ever goes to plan and you only have yourself, the universe, and a fire extinguisher to blame.

The crew of S/V Raven has been in a better mood. The optimistic “woo-hoo” we felt at the start of the journey had the ever-loving crap beat out of it. And we’re not really sure what we did to deserve it.

It’s a long stretch of coastline between Ensenada and Cabo San Lucas—over 700 nm—and we knew it wouldn’t be easy, but we didn’t think it would suck the life out of us so soon. The original plan was to leave Ensenada in the morning on the 22nd for Cabo Colonet—a 65 nm journey—anchor there overnight and do a leisurely 45 nm to Bahia San Quintin the next day. You know, ease into it. But did we stick to the plan? Hell, no! The winds were favorable, we felt ready, and we were raring to go. So we opted instead to leave in the early afternoon of the 21^st and make the 110 nm trek directly to Bahia San Quintin—a journey we estimated would take 20 hours under sail and get us there around mid-morning. I think we were about eight hours in when it became apparent that we may have been overly ambitious. For one, it had been well over seven months since we’d done that long of a voyage and an overnighter at that and we were severely out of whack. And for another, we were really rusty at our weather skills. Because even though the weather forecast called for winds out of the NW at 15 mph and 4 foot waves at 12 seconds apart we should have known that really meant winds out of absolutely everywhere at 20 mph and 6 foot waves at 6 seconds apart. So what started out as a nice sail, quickly turned into a Cape Flattery flashback—the waves would push us way over one way and slingshot us back the other turning the inside of the boat into a rock tumbler, the wind changed direction so often that the sails became useless even as a stabilizer and we were forced to motor through the chop, and the temperature dropped into the 50’s which necessitated so much layering we could barely put our arms down. Adding insult to injury, the unusually strong current put us at the anchorage early. Namely three in morning. So we got to anchor in an unfamiliar bay in the dark. Fun times.

We wouldn’t do that again. Next time we would stick to the plan. We decided we would haul anchor at 6:00 am the next morning, do an easy sail about 56 nm up the coast to Fondeadero San Carlos, spend the rest of the day on the hook, and head out the next morning for Cedros Island. After a night at anchor there, we would sail a few short hours more and make our triumphant entry into Bahia Tortuga (Turtle Bay)—the unofficial halfway point between Ensenada and Cabo San Lucas. Alas, time, tide, and dodgy weather forecasts threw the plan out the window as when we reached Fondeadero San Carlos, the wind had picked up so much—about 15 mph more than what was predicted—the anchorage had become unsafe. So there was no choice but to make for Cedros Island, another 80 nm away. However, about three hours in, that plan seemed dubious as well when it became apparent that our arrival time would be somewhere between 1:00 and 4:00 in the morning. Not something we were keen on doing as these anchorages were not the easiest to negotiate even in broad daylight. So a new plan: put the balls to the wall and make for Turtle Bay—a good 50 nm beyond Cedros. We fired up the engine, kept the sails flying a la jib and jigger, and hauled ass—at one point maintaining a pretty impressive 9.5 knots. Seemed like a good plan except that—barring a few hours when passing by Cedros Island—the seas were not very kind. Eight foot waves, coming at around six seconds apart (for the lubbers, think of getting hit by an eight-foot tall punching bag, then only getting a six second break before it hits you again. Yeah, it’s as fun as it sounds.), spray over the bow, the wind just relentless. The constant pounding took a toll. And when Turtle Bay came into view just as the sun was rising, the talk on board was not about being relieved, fulfilled, or even happy. It was more along the lines of, “are we really sure we can do this?” And when the engine suddenly decelerated several times, even after turning on the fuel pumps (this problem has been our nemesis—it’s the one quirk that none of our mechanics have been able to figure out), the disposition on board went from doubtful to depressed.

But the day was not done with us yet. We had planned to anchor, put away a few things, and sleep. However, something had happened in the first patch of rough water outside Bahia San Quintin that defies explanation. It was either a miracle, a poltergeist, or Edgrrr grew opposable thumbs and exacted his revenge on us, but somehow the fire extinguisher in the passageway to the back cabin came loose from its locking bracket, tore away its safety tie, pulled out its pin, and proceeded to empty its contents all over the back cabin. Halon—an incredibly fine powder—covered everything. How fine of a powder? So fine that when I started the shop vac, it sucked it in one side and immediately blew it out the back, covering everything in the pilothouse as well. It took three hours to get the worst of it; it’ll be weeks – or maybe even months - before it’s finally eradicated.

So we’re feeling a little vulnerable right now. But we’re hoping a good night’s sleep followed by a full day in Turtle Bay to explore, have a hot meal, and put the boat back together will strengthen our resolve. Will it bring back our “woo-hoo”? It might. But I’m not planning on it.

Pictured: Anchoring at Bahia San Quintin in the middle of the night

Not Pictured: San Quintin. We couldn't see it either.

Pictured: Really?

Not Pictured: The fire extinguisher being hung, drawn, and quartered and its remains being fed to a great white shark.

Bahia Tortuga (Turtle Bay)

Turtle Bay is a small town of around 1,200. Although apparently very lively during the height of cruising season, it was a little sleepy during our visit. Not a whole lot open and not a whole lot of people out and about although lots of cars cruising around…and around….and around (we’re pretty sure the same three pick-up trucks passed us a few times each). The town is dry, dusty, and there are quite a few abandoned and boarded up buildings, but the houses are tidy, brightly colored and most come standard with a barking dog. Didn’t get to meet a lot of people, but those we did were extremely friendly. Need anything at all? Ask for Pedro (The one with one arm. Not the other guy.) He’ll give you the hook-up.

A very happy Otter! After three days on the boat, he finally got to do his business “proper-like” on terra firma (none of this “on the foredeck b.s.”). To make up for lost time, he pooped four times and peed so long he got a cramp in his haunches. I know. TMI.

Looking for a bodega? Look for the Tecate Beer sign!

Looking for anything else? Good luck! 

  

The corner across from the clinic is wheelchair accessible. Unfortunately, the sidewalk isn’t.

Pictured: A typical street in Turtle Bay.

Not Pictured: The biggest cockroach I’ve ever seen. At least two inches long, it was ambling along in broad daylight with a look on its face that said, “Go ahead. I dare you.” It was kind of disturbing. I know we’re heading into big-bug territory, but I was kinda hoping for a ramp-up period.

Pictured: A speed bump. No, really. A speed bump.

Not Pictured: Speed limit. I don’t think there is one.