We'd ordered our car for 5:00 PM and it showed up right on time, a nice little Nissan Tsura, whatever that is. We took it to dinner. After a little looking I found the Arboretas, a restaurant we'd really enjoyed when last here, but it was closed for lack of business. A girl there told us that it might open again in September, but we didn't feel like waiting. She told us that another good restaurant was the Caballo Blanco near the CCC. OK, I knew where that was. Well we hunted and hunted and finally, after asking several different people, discovered that there are two CCC's and we were near the wrong one. Once we found it, the White Horse was good -- good food, good service, and reasonable prices. Nice last dinner with our buddies.
The 215 kilometer drive to Cabo from La Paz is prettier and more varied than much of the route north of here. After about twenty miles of relatively flat terrain covered with desert brush and cactus, you start over the Sierra Lagunas, a mountain range with a wide variety of geological features. We stopped at several small towns on the way, none of which looked like they'd ever seen a Gringo before. El Triunfo was the first where we followed a bumpy dirt road to an old smelter which processed the silver mined there in the 1800's. A 100 foot high brick smoke stack still stands in good shape, looking like it could go to work at any time. At San Antonio we wandered up and down steep, stone paved streets, past the ever present central plaza and the not-so-often-seen town jail, dodging chickens and children on the way. At San Bartolo we stopped and had a beer in a cantina sitting at a wooden table in a bare room, then just a half mile down the road discovered that we should have waited for a pretty outdoor garden restaurant. The first sign of tourists came as we reached the sea near Buena Vista, a sportfishing center which we've been told produces more marlin than anywhere else in the world. There, several hotels and condos are scattered along ten miles of coastline.
About 10 miles south of Buena Vista we passed a six foot high stone sphere which marks 28 degrees, 23 minutes north latitude, the Tropic of Cancer and the northern most latitude of the sun's yearly journey. Another ten miles and we were a bit startled to see a large sign on an apparently deserted stretch desert announcing the airport. It's 9 kilometers north of San Jose del Cabo, the big hotel center, and 35 from Cabo San Lucas itself. Approaching from the south you can see the terminal building but from the north there's nothing but the sign until you're there. We didn't stop, but kept on driving, hungry now and looking forward to some good tacos at our favorite place in Cabo, the Taqueteria El Chef which we hoped would still be in business. It was -- and still served the same super delicious rolled flour tortilla tacos that we remembered. Jose, the owner/operator/sometime chef, puts out big bowls of guacamole, salsa, jalapinos, slaw, plus three different kinds of hot sauce for you to put on the taco in which one of several kinds of meat is rolled. He charges 3,500 pesos for one, or 10,000 for three. We ordered twelve of different kinds and then three more to make sure we didn't miss anything. By the time we got that down we all were stuffed.
From there we drove out to the sportfishing pier, watched the first of them come in with the catch of the day -- a marlin, a sailfish, several dorado, and one big wahoo -- wandered around in the tourist sales pavilion, then drove back to the city center and parked the car. Everybody who comes to Cabo has to have a Margarita at the Giggling Marlin so we did, served in huge glasses which took us almost and hour to polish off. The Giggling Marlin is kind of a fun place to watch other tourists and the big parrot which sits uncaged on his perch, occasionaly bumming a treat from a passerby. The rest of the afternoon was spent poking though the shops of this artsy craftsy town. They do have a wide selection of goodies from all over Mexico and Central America, although their prices are a bit high -- a bag we bought in Guatemala for $15.00 was $50.00 here.
By 4:00 we decided we'd better get Bob and Kris back to the airport and so piled in our little car again and said goodby to Cabo. With the traffic on the road it takes almost an hour for the drive but we got there in plenty of time. We had a snack at the airport bar, then bid a teary-eyed goodby as they left us at the gate. We'd planned on staying the night at a hotel in San Jose; but when I got to thinking about the drive back, and trying to find a room so late in the day, I decided to head for La Paz instead. The drive at night actually went a lot faster. It's only about a hundred miles from the airport and there was very little traffic. The only scary thing was the livestock on the road. At one point a whole herd of horses decided to run across just in front of us making me slam on the brakes. We were back at the boat at nine o'clock, the trip having taken just a little more than two hours.
After our experience with the Mexican navy the other day, and since we had the car, I decided that it might be a good idea to go through the check-in/check-out process. It went just about as expected; first to the Port Captain, then to the Port Operations office about six blocks away to pay our 16,500 port fee, then to immigration which has moved to the malacon at the far end of town, then back to the Port Captain. With the car it was easy -- I even gave some other foot weary yachties a ride from immigration to the Port Captain's -- but for the normal wheelless boater it's a pain. I think the authorities are in cahoots with the taxi companies. In the process of running back and forth I made side trips to Banamex, where again the Visa cash advance turned out to be a simple stop at one window, and the Quaker State agency where I bought a 5 gallon pail of oil. By 14:00 I was back at the boat where Lois had gotten all our other junk put away and was into the laundry.
We couldn't think of anything else to use our car for, so I went to work on the boat, moving all the stuff we'd taken out of the forward stateroom and stored temporarily in our room back and then changing Gimmy's oil. We probably could have gotten everything done today and bailed out in the morning, but decided to give ourselves another day on the dock to be sure we had all the preparations done. I still haven't found the source of our water in the forward bilge, although I'm very much beginning to suspect a leaking line between the fresh water tank and the pump. We've been picking up air in the water lines which can only come from a leak on the suction side. That will be my project for tomorrow. It's a real pain because the lines around the water tank are almost inaccessable.
Had dinner at La Panga, the restaurant here at the marina. Contrary to what our friend Mike had told us, the food and service was very good -- and the price reasonable.
Other than for reaching that unpleasant conclusion, it was a very nice day. The Metz is sitting on the drier vent so I helped Lois hang out the wash on the lifelines. She hates to do that in a fancy marina -- says it makes us look like a Chinese laundry. Why Chinese I don't know. Clothes dry fast here in the desert air of the Baja, even on a relatively cool day. We went out to dinner again at La Panga. It'll be a while before we get another chance.
09:45 We back out of the slip and, because it was a port tie, all the way to the entry channel. Old SEA RAVEN just doesn't like to turn left in a hurry. Backing is sort of iffy too, but this morning she backed straight and true, even consenting to be steered a bit when we got going fast enough.
10:00 Passing Pichelinque. There was no sign of life on the navy vessel as we emerged from the channel this Saturday morning. Maybe they are only interested in incoming boats, or maybe taking the weekend off.
11:00 It's a flat calm sea and we're running easy as we cross the Canal de San Lorenzo. The ferry is just now coming down the channel over an hour late -- sure couldn't have been weather delaying him.
12:30 We pass Caleta Partida, our plnned destination for today; but there are a half dozen boats in there, it's a beautiful day, and a good one for making the twenty mile open crossing to the northern islands, so we keep going.
15:30 Into the deserted bay at Isla San Francisco. It couldn't be much prettier, sitting on the clear turquoise water with the red and green rock walls on either side and the white beach in front. We went to "home" configuration, put the Metz in the water, then just relaxed. Had dorado for dinner -- no, not today. Didn't have a single bite. The dorado was from the freezer, still almost as good as fresh. Sure would be nice to get another. Yesterday we heard on the radio about a guy who caught a 38 pounder in the "waiting room" at Puerto Escodido, a small bay just outside the entrance. That's pretty much a freak at this time of year, but I guess a few dorado do stick around for the winter.
| After our morning tour we came home, had lunch, took a nap, then put on our hiking boots and headed for shore. I'd been kicking myself for not taking the camera the other day when Bob and I climbed the mountain, so today I had it with me. Pulling the Metz up on the soft sand beach at the south cove, we followed the path up to the first knoll, maybe 100 to 150 feet above the bay. You really don't have to go farther than there to get the full benefit of the view, from the islands to the south to the grand canyon like Sierra Gigantas to the west, to the big island of San Jose to the north -- with the lovely bay spead out below. |
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That was about the sum of our day. Oh, I almost forgot! One more thing for the record. This morning Lois, who is very sensitive about such things, called me out on the deck and pointed to the bottom. "Snakes!", she said. Sure enough, there on the bottom twenty feet below, were dozens of black, snake-like creatures about a foot and a half long, each with its tail in the sand as it performed a dance reminiscent of a cobra's response to a hindu flute. I've never seen anything like it before, nor do I remember seeing anything about it in any of our books, including John Steinbeck's "Log of the Sea of Cortez". I wish now I had had the presence of mind to have taken a picture. They were only there in the early morning sun.
The mountain and desert scenery wasn't the only thing making today's ride interesting. We also saw a whale swimming with a group of dolfins, a couple of sea lions, one in the characteristic flipper out of the water posture as it rested on the surface in the sun, a large manta ray which we startled as it lay on the surface with the tips of its wings sticking out, and lots of bonito which tore up the water around us but never consented to get on our hooks. It was truly an interesting ride.
13:30 Into the rock rimmed cove at Los Gatos. We aren't alone here, there were four pangas at the fish camp in the northwest corner of the bay. We were kind of hoping that our friend Manuel would be here with a lobster or two, but these all appeared to be net fishermen, older, younger, or fatter than Manuel. The six of them soon left in three of the pangas without coming by the boat and we saw only one panga come back much later. It had stayed cloudy most of the day, although we got ahead of the clouds just before arriving at Los Gatos; but they soon caught up with us, and the breeze was cool, so we spent the afternoon on the boat reading and enjoying the scenery around us. Hopefully, the sun will shine tomorrow -- I'd like to get some good pictures of this place. I took some pretty good videos three years ago, but no still photos.
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Well, we did just that. The sun rose this morning bright and beautiful and, as the man says, there was nary a cloud in the sky -- couldn't have asked for a better picture taking day. I took a few shots from the boat before breakfast, then we took the Metz over to the south cove where there are the most spectacular wind carvings in the red sandstone. There was a bit of a breeze this morning, and it was chilly, but on the tiny beach where we landed there was none, just the sun's warm rays reflected by the rocks. Lois poked around looking for shells and rocks while I tried to capture the feel of the place on film, probably a hopeless exercise. |
11:00 Hook up and on our way. The shoreline north of Los Gatos is almost as scenic as that to the south. It's not quite so varied, mostly rugged, crumbling, rock cliffs backed by the flat topped mountains of the Gigantas in the distance. Soon after we got going the wind started blowing, coming directly off the mountains to the west and kicking up a pretty good chop even with only a mile fetch. It was right on our beam so after a while I dropped one of the foils in the water to keep the roll down.
13:30 As we approached Punta San Marcial I noted an anchorage just below the point at which we had never stayed and remembered seeing a sailboat in there as we were traveling south in 1988. With today's wind direction it looked pretty good, so in we went, sliding behind a long reef and anchoring in about twenty feet of water in a calm, wind protected cove. It's a pretty place, not quite the colors of Los Gatos but with some interesting shapes to the rock mountains surrounding it and lots of bird activity. There must be a lot of feed in the shallows along the beach because the pelicans kept up a constant dive bombing all afternoon. We took our afternoon naps, then Lois read while I went in search of the wily barracuda. She did better than I did. Using the technique that Manuel showed Paul and I three years ago, and the same lure, I trolled fast along the rocks around the point and then out along the reef. No luck, not even a strike! I passed two fishermen in a panga still-fishing who just shook their heads when I went by, or maybe that was my imagination. They didn't seem to be pulling them in very fast either. Oh well, another day.
Lois had just started dinner -- more of the dorado out of the freezer. Would you believe, we've still got one package left. That was a big fish! -- when the wind took a shift to the north. Now instead of being totally protected, we were getting gusts to over twenty knots and waves were coming around the point causing us to rock and roll and giving Lois a bad time in keeping the skillet on the stove. I could see that I'd put the hook down too far out, so started Gimmy, hauled up, and moved in. That reduced the rolling to a tolerable level, but the gusty winds, contrary to my confident prediction, kept up all night long. I guess a norther is on us and will probably last a few days.
There were four boats in the cove when we got here: one big power cruiser, two conventional sailboats, and a trimaran. Another trimaran came in later so we are six, quite a showing for this far north at this time of year. A guy on the boat just ahead of us, the TANGENT from Bellevue, Washington, called and said he'd admired our boat when it was in Santa Rosalia three years ago. I'm always a little surprized when that happens -- there are very few boats which I would remember for that long a time, but I guess SEA RAVEN is one of them.
We fooled away the afternoon while the wind howled. We didn't really make much improvement in the comfort of the anchorage over the bay around the point -- there's still quite a refracted wave coming in here -- but Lois is happier with others around her. We cleaned out the lazarette and then I changed the Racor filter again -- does seem that the starboard tank has gotten a case of the algaes. I can't think of anything else which would tend to plug up the filters so fast. For every hour we run we filter about sixty gallons while burning three, so every ten hours the whole 600 gallon tank should be filtered. Whatever is causing the problem must grow pretty fast. In the past we've been able to get about 200 hours on a filter; now it's about 50 and I only have two left. Don't know where I can find them in this part of the world. Uno mas problema!
On the way back from INSPIRATION we stopped by the little trimaran, GALADRIA, that came in yesterday and discovered that it was skippered by Terry, the diving nut whom we'd met three years ago. He still has his dive boat, EROTICA, but is out for a sail with his girlfriend in this boat. They were just getting ready for a dive on the solitary rock. Terry said that if they got lucky, he'd bring us some yellowfin. That didn't happen, but it was fun seeing him again anyway.
INSPIRATION hauled up and headed out about noon and, when they did, we moved up into the cove a little farther. It was just enough to stop our roll completely, so I decided to clean up my maintenance chores. I changed all the Fram fuel filters, a nasty job, and serviced the Evenrude, which still has never been in the water. The set of Frams on Gimmy's fuel line were pretty dirty, so I cut the replacement time on my computer tickle file down to 400 hours -- maybe it should be even less. Got to find a source of filters!
09:30 Into our favorite little hole in the rock just south of Punta Candelaros. There were no other boats there -- there's really only room for one to swing comfortably -- but three pangas were on the beach and five men were busy butchering fish. We anchored, watched for a while, then a guy in yellow rain pants who seemed to be sort of the boss came roaring out in one of the pangas. He spoke a little English and I a little Spanish and he asked if we had any bread. It seems they'd been out for several days and had nothing but canned beans left. He said they were going in to Loreto today but would appreciate some bread. We gave him half a loaf, all we had, forgetting that we had lots of tortillas which would have probably gone further. Off he went. We watched as they ate their breakfast of cold beans and bread, finished butchering the fish -- they had a bunch of what I identified in the book as Shovelnosed Guitarfish, an ugly animal that looks almost like a ray from a distance -- and then packed their catch plus all their gear in the three pangas. They waved a cheerful adios as they roared off in the direction of Loreto.
By this time we were through with our chores and ready to hit the beach and ran the Metz over to where the fishermen had been. The birds; gulls, turkey vultures, and one rednecked pelican, were hard at work on the fish remains strewn along the beach but there was lots for all. Dozens of the Guitarfish heads, several yellowtail carcasses, and lots of unidentifiable litter lay everywhere. There was also a huge pile of fairly recently shucked rock scallop shells, most the kind with the pretty spines on the outside. Must be some good diving around somewhere. We poked around on the beach a while and when we got back to the Metz made a startling discovery -- it was completely covered with small, red hornets. There were thousands of them swarming around it, one big bunch crawling over one of the oars almost completely hiding it. I have no idea waht was attracting them. Lois was about to have a fit and I wasn't feeling to good about the whole thing, although I recognized the little buggers as the same type we'd had in Puerto Vallarta, none of which had ever shown any hostile intent, but hornets are hornets and who knows. Screwing up my courage, I pushed the Metz off the beach ready to dive in the water if they were to attack. They didn't and I got the motor started and roared off, shaking the hornets off the boat so that the wind would carry them away. I never got stung -- I doubt if they have weapons -- soon had the boat mostly clear of them, and ran back to pick up Lois. By now she was ready to leave this place, pretty or not.
11:00 (Approximately) Up anchor and on our way again, around the point and headed for Isla Danzante. Again we saw whales as we ran, one pacing us as he stayed for quite a while off our port bow. We ran up the west side, past "Honeymoon Cove" where there were several other boats parked, and Puerto Escondido, then to the south end of Isla Carmen where I thought we might anchor in Bahia Marquer. By the time we got there, though, the afternoon north wind was coming up and it looked like the anchorage would be pretty sloppy so we kept going.
15:00 Anchored in Puerto Balandra where we had the whole place to ourselves. Here we're almost landlocked so the wind can blow from any direction without raising a sea. It's also a very pretty place with the hills close around and the view out the entrance of the mountains across on the mainland. It's where three years ago the killer whale came up almost under the boat while Bob, Kris, and Bryan were visiting.
It was a beautiful day, although still not quite warm enough to make me feel like going swimming; so in the afternoon we went fishing, Lois doing the fishing while I ran the boat along the rocky shoreline. She had one on in the first couple of minutes but it managed to flip off the hook as she was bringing it in. We ran around the point and down to where Paul had caught a couple of barracuda without success; but then on the way back, in the same place as before, she hooked up again. This time I kept running slowly and she pulled in a baby Roosterfish, just a little guy about ten inches long, silvery and pink with the long black and yellow, feathery dorsal fin. I didn't know they came that small. We went back over the same place again and she caught another just about the same size. They both were hooked the lure with which we've had the best success at catching barracuda, a Tady green and crome lure with a fixed hook, almost half as long as these little guys. Several more passes though the shallows didn't produce any more, but those two made a nice dinner for us They have no scales, a very white meat, and a bone structure similar to a trout. Lois just fried them with a light dusting of corn meal and the meat flaked off the bones easily. I used the leftovers for bait and hung a pole off the stern but got no interest at all. The triggerfish that were here before must be somewhere else.
The plus for the day was that a little boat called the HELEN R came in while I was in my blackest mood. It parked off to our right and as soon as the afternoon wind came up started to drag. There was only one person aboard and he was having a bit of trouble getting hooked properly. Well, after I got my work done and had cooled off a bit with a cerveca, I ran over in the Metz to give him a hand. Turned out that he was a real nice guy, Bill Tayor, 75 years old, on vacation from his wife and winter home in Phoenix for a few weeks. He had never sailed the Sea of Cortez before and had put his 27 foot boat in at San Carlos. We ended up having him over for dinner for a very nice evening.
08:30 I had to pull up the "fish" to let us get in near the beach at Loreto -- it's a long, flat, sandy bottom and we anchored in only about 12 feet of water -- the flopper-stoppers hang down 17 feet.
Locking the boat, we ran the Metz into the beach where a young man named Alfonso helped us carry it up and tie it to a post with a palm frond umbrella top. I gave him 2,000 pesos to watch the boat and we headed for Gustavo's house. I was lucky and walked right to it even though I didn't quite remember the way. Gustavo wasn't home but his wife, who speaks not a bit of English, said that she thought he'd be back in about an hour and we'd just started to leave when up he drove in his station wagon taxi. At first he didn't recognize us, but then did a double take and welcomed us into his living room to chat with he and his son, Gustvo Jr. who has turned into a very handsome lad. We talked for a while, then excused ourselves saying that we'd get some breakfast and meet him at the grocery store at 10:30.
From Gustavo's house we walked through the old town to Cafe'Ole' just off the central plaza. Loreto is the site of the oldest mission in Baja, built in 1697 and the first of the chain of Spanish missions extending northward through California. Unfortunately, the museum in the old church, which has never been open while we have been here, was closed again today, Constitution Day. We had our breakfast in the open air dining room of the little Cafe' Ole', just as good as we'd remembered, then strolled around town a bit before heading to the Supermercado. As promised, Gustavo was there before we'd finished with our shopping. We loaded our stuff into his taxi and let him take us to finish the shopping job -- oranges from a street vendor, beer at the deposito, then several stops looking for a 6 volt lantern bulb which we never found. No matter, we've plenty of flashlights on board. By 11:30 we were back at the beach where Gustavo and Alfonso helped us load our junk and launch the Metz. For the ride Gustavo asked 6,000 pesos -- I gave him 20,000.
11:45 On our way again. The trip back was very much like the trip over -- this time I put down the port foil. The wind had just started to pick up but hadn't yet started to kick up whitecaps. As we approached Balandra, we could see a large vessel anchored in the bay which headed out just before we got there. Painted on the bows was SEA LION, a beautiful vessel of 200-plus feet looking a bit like a small ferry. I gave her a call on the radio and the skipper came back, telling me that she was a nature tour vessel which is hired out to groups interested in the wildlife of the Sea of Cortez. He said they had naturalists in their crew and at the present time had a group from Columbia University aboard. They run tours of about ten days. It looked like a first class operation.
13:15 Anchored again in Balandra as the wind started to howl. Another boat had arrived while we were gone, the DIANA ROSE II, a power cruiser with a couple of divers aboard -- they were just coming back from a dive as we anchored.
Bill had lost his dinghy oars on the way down from San Carlos when the ding flipped in some gale force winds, so I dug out my broken pair for the Metz and gave them to him. In a couple of hours he was back rowing his ding -- he had cut off the rotten wood, whittled down the handles, and driven them into the fittings. They should do fine until he can get a new pair. He's a nice old guy -- hope I'm as fit as he is when I'm seventy-five.
12:00 We drop our hook between the pinnacle rocks in San Juanico. Nobody here but we and a few fishermen at the camp on the north shore. In '88 there always seemed to be a few other boats around but it was later in the season. Now we've got the whole place to ourselves. Well, almost -- later in the afternoon three kayakers came through. They didn't come by the boat but stopped on the west beach for a while then paddled on to where I don't know. We made sure we were well hooked, then went to the beach ourselves. The San Juanico "shrine" is still here, expanded a bit with many more carved rocks and trophies of boaters who have been here since 1988. We couldn't find the one we left, and several others which I remember seemed to be missing but might be buried under the newer junk. It's getting so crowded that you can't see it all without tearing it apart. We'd put on our swim suits for the first time since we left Chacala but it was still too cool to invite swimming as we walked down the half mile long beach, so we contented ourselves with wading in the inches deep water which had been warmed by the sun. The sun felt good on our backs but after an hour we decided we'd better get out of it. We've both lost our tans while in the tropical heat of the mainland.
Back at the boat, we read, took a nap, and then Lois fixed a fine dinner, the last of our dorado topped off with a big apple pie -- a fine little birthday party for just the two of us.
With the work done, we took the afternoon off and headed for the beach where we found tracks of the van we'd seen yesterday. I was under the impression that there was no road access to Juanico, but that is obviously wrong. I doubt if the van we saw was a four wheel drive, and there is a pair of lightly used wheel tracks leading back from the beach toward the draw to the west. I didn't follow them far because I was in my bare feet and the goat-heads soon drove me back. The van just came in, turned around and left. Why it didn't stay, and why the beach isn't covered with campers, is a mystery -- must not be much of a road. We poked around on the beach for a while then, having had enough sun for a while, went back to the boat, put on a few clothes, got the fishing pole, and went out to try our luck. It wasn't so good, but we did find a sea lion sitting on a rock who consented to have his picture taken.
Back at the boat, we were sitting having a Bloody Mary when a panga drove up with two of the fishermen from the fish camp. They had a 15-20 lb yellowtail which they wanted to trade for a jig. They showed me the kind of jigs they use, one that looks like the little ones we've used for cod but a lot bigger. We have nothing like that in our fish box. Instead we came up with a half bottle of peach brandy and another of Rompope, stuff we seldom drink but which seemed to make them happy. One of the fishermen spoke pretty good English. His name is Sotero Martinez and he says he's a compadre of Gustavo, our friend in Loreto. The other's is Bone', both real nice guys. The fish was a good one, giving us several packages of fillets. Just in time, we ate the last of our dorado in fish tacos for dinner.
09:45 North of Pulpito approaching Santa Teresa Lois was below and I was sitting half dreaming at the helm when a huge fin rose out of the water, just abeam and going the other way -- a killer whale! I hollared at Lois and she came up, but it only showed the one time. That's only the second time we've seen one in the Sea. The other was at Balandra when Bob, Kris, & Bryan were with us three years ago.
12:30 We round Punta Concepcion, and just in time. The wind was starting to pick up and build enough sea to keep me on my heading until I could turn and run with it toward Punta Aguja. From there on it was a downhill ride into the bay. We ran the six miles down to Bahia Coyote, then picked our way through all the little islands while we hunted for the cove where Peter and Mary live. We were there only once, two and a half years ago, and I hadn't marked it on the chart. All the little coves look much alike -- every one filled with pickups, trailers, and campers, many more than we'd seen before. We cruised along, eliminating them one by one.
14:30 Finally found it around the last point in the bay. This time though, instead of the SANTA MARIA being the only boat in the cove, there were nine others on mooring buoys scattered behind the point, and on the beach the palapas of the trailer village were a solid wall. When I called on the radio Peter answered immediately, welcoming us back and inviting us to come in.
We anchored near the SANTA MARIA, got ourselves settled down, then , after a short nap, went ashore. The Leopole's palapa, which was only partly erected when we visited in '88, is now nicely finished. Their trailer is covered by a palm frond roof which also covers the parking area for their van and the patio. They've built a high bamboo fence at the rear which hides the rest of the park, and their neighbor's wall gives then privacy to the south. On their beach sits a Hawaiian type outrigger sailing vessel, similar to a Hobbie Cat but made of wood and bamboo. I had thought that Peter, who tends toward restlessness, would be tired of it by now but that isn't true. Both he and Mary seem to really love their lifestyle. Last summer they toured the U.S. while the temperatures here reached 110o. We had a nice chat, then Mary fixed what she called a snack -- small fish, mackerel and barracuda fried in a tasty seasoning, plus crisp tortillas and olives. It turned out to be plenty for dinner.
The shock of the evening came when we got back to the boat and I turned on the water to make coffee. No pressure! I checked the pump breaker/switch and it was on, but when I turned in off and then on again the pump came on but didn't pump any water. The pump has a safety feature which turns it off if it runs dry. Is it possible that our entire 500 gallon tank has been dumped overboard through the bilge while we were ashore? Too pooped tonight to check it out, I went to bed and spent half the night worrying.
The sequence of assembly of the pump is something that the Paragon people must have worked out over years. It's something like the Chinese puzzles in which you have to assemble each piece in an order which is not obvious. In taking things apart I had disassembled the pressure switch because that seemed to be the only way to get it off -- the body of the switch was too big to clear the rest of the pump while unscrewing the 3/8" pipe fitting. Of course, as I took out the last screw the springloaded parts inside exploded all over the table -- I was glad I wasn't in the engine room. The first job now was to figure out which part went where; that took about an hour. Once I figured out where each part went, the next task was to get them all put together and the cover on under spring tension. With Lois helping, we must have put the damned thing together fifty times before we figured out a system for keeping things in place while getting the cover screwed on. Then guess what -- yep, I still had to take it apart again to get it screwed back on to the pump. Well, we now had a system so that wasn't too bad, but I'd now spent most of the day fighting with the silly thing, so I set it aside. I'll install it tomorrow. The next time, and I'm afraid that there will be a next time -- the impellers should be replaced, I'll at least know how to go about the job.
Peter went out with his Hooka and gathered scallops this afternoon while I was fighting my pump and they'd invited us for dinner. Lois did her pepper casserole and baked a chocolate cake, so we had another feast. Those little scallops sure taste good, especially when they are fresh out of the ocean, and Peter had a bunch of them. He gathers them in about thirty feet of water right around his mooring buoy. He says they aren'e as plentiful this year as last, but he must have gotten a hundred in half an hour or so.
It was a cloudy morning and flat calm on the bay so we decided to go fishing. No luck there, but we did have an interesting tour of the area. The bay they call Coyote is about five miles long and a couple deep with six small islands dotted around in it and three or four nice beaches on the west side. The transpeninsular highway runs along the shore so at this time of year it is quite populated with campers and trailers which stay in the several low priced parks on the beaches. We trolled around the near bay and a couple of islands, not getting even a strike but managing to sneak up on a sea lion resting in the absurd position they like to take, on his back with head, tail, and one fin sticking up into the air. He didn't move as we trolled slowly by. When we don't catch fish I soon get tired of fishing, so we soon went back, put away our gear, and then went ashore to Peter and Mary's place on the beach.
Peter was braiding a mooring line when we got there but both he and Mary were game for a walk, so we headed off to find the petroglyphs which they'd told us about. About a mile to the north and on the other side of the highway in a draw are hundreds of crude picture drawings carved on the reddish brown surfaces of the bolders with which it is filled. It's very hard to recognize what any of the drawings depict but many of the figures are repeated many times on different rocks. One which we guessed was a turtle appears dozens of times. I had taken the camera and took a lot of pictures but with the flat lighting I'm not sure how well they will turn out. None of the carvings were very deep, maybe 1/4 inch at most, so there's not a lot of contrast in the figures. You sure wonder about the people who had the patience to make these drawings so many years ago.
We had a nice pork roast which Bob and Kris had brought down to us and Peter and Mary were available for dinner, so I got the bright idea that I'd barbecue it. It was a big one, almost six pounds, and barely fit in our little barbecue, but I managed to get it in. It was still partly frozen when I started and the book says thirty minutes a pound for pork so I figured on three hours. Well, I should have known better. When I took it out at 6:00 o'clock it was cremated -- Dad would have thought it was done just right. People ate it and didn't complain, but I considered it a catastrophy. The potatoes and onions and Lois' slaw were good, and Mary brought a Boston cream pie so we didn't starve. Come to think of it we seldom do.
Mulege is a town of about 4000 people, probably a third or more of which are Gringos. Located in a valley fed by a large watershed, it is one of the very few places on the Baja which can boast an actual stream of running water most of the year. As a result the valley is filled with palms and other vegetation not seen in the desert. In spite of this the town, all the streets of which are dirt, is normally a hot and dusty place. Not today -- today the streets were greased with mud and the light drizzle kept us cool as we went from store to store. We went to four different grocery stores, the gas station, and the deposito on our shopping tour before stopping at a nice little restaurant called Las Casitas for lunch. We'd been there a couple of times before, once with Zack and Jodie of the AURONE, and once when Don and Shirley brought Lois down to Santa Rosalia. They serve a good hamburger, something almost nonexistant in the Baja.
By 1:30 we were back on the boat, soaked through with all our goodies dripping wet. We shook things out, started Gennie and turned on the electric heaters. It wasn't really cold, about 62o, but we're spoiled. Guess we need some of this acclimatizing before we get back to the Northwest. We spent the rest of the day on the boat, reading, napping, and doing little chores like changing Gennie's oil and oil filter. If things clear up we may move on up to Chivato tomorrow. More?