Photographs From Our Travels

I really didn't blog much about this latest round of traveling, and to be honest it probably wasn't that interesting anyway. I mainly wandered around small Mexican towns and rode on buses while Vlad took the boat to the next location. Not really action packed. But we did take some pics of Barra de Navidad and Zihuatanejo, both beachside towns that we really enjoyed, tourist bits and all.

Vlad's Adventures in Single Handing

Meet Chirp, the new first mate aboard Bettie

We were pretty surprised when we tallied up the mileage Vlad sailed solo, in which I'm including our first try at Acapulco where for a week Vlad sailed the boat and took care of me while I threw up. He went about 1,300 miles or close to halfway across the Pacific. We are pretty sure the major ocean crossing passage would have been more pleasant journey, however. For one thing, he could have slept more than 20 minutes at a time, and for another it's theoretically a much better sail, despite crossing the doldrums.

People have asked him what it's like single handing, and he always replies that it's exactly the same but with less sleep. Being close to the coast near heavy shipping lanes and the occasional fishing fleet means that sleeping for long stretches just is not happening. Of course, people have to sleep some, or they begin to make bad decisions (not good on a boat!!) or even go a little nuts. To combat fatigue somewhat, Vlad would set an alarm for anywhere between 20 and 30 minutes depending on conditions and would then wake up, scan the horizon, check the course and maybe the radar as well if he had it turned on. He also swung out to sea more at night just in case the alarm failed.

Mostly, he motor sailed up the coast, partly because going north up this coast is against the prevailing winds the majority of the time and partly because he wanted to make it to the wedding. You know, priorities.

This last passage, from Barra de Navidad to Puerto Vallarta, was the roughest to date, with high winds, big seas and what looked like a major storm front looming. Plus, he was running on a major sleep deficit from a month of on again, off again single handing. But thankfully he had Chirp, the new first mate he picked up after the old first mate so rudely abandoned ship. Chirp wasn't much of a navigator, but she did stay at the helm pretty much the entire time, despite the rough weather.

The foul weather he had near Cabo Corrientos, which is the cape you have to go around before entering Banderas Bay, stayed with him for about eight hours and then just disappeared. We think it might have been the catalyst weather system for a tropical storm that formed the next day far out in the Pacific.

Also, he docked the boat by himself, anchored in a crowded, windy harbor by himself, was surrounded by massive dolphin pods and fought with a freighter that tried to run him over twice in broad daylight (every time he got out of its way, it turned straight for him again). Plus, he read some of Bernard Moitessier's The Long Way, though thankfully did not decide to follow in his footsteps!

In the end, he safely got our boat all the way to Puerto Vallarta, never complained, never seemed particularly nervous and has now had a couple well deserved days of sleeping.

The Insanity Is Over

Back in the day when we used to travel together

Yesterday, Vlad pulled into the marina in Puerto Vallarta at 3:00 p.m., and I stumbled in a couple hours later off the bus from Barra de Navidad. Somehow, against all odds, we are actually going to make it to our wedding in Sayulita in a week.

I can honestly say that I have never been so happy to reach a location. We've both had some decent times on our respective journeys - Vlad single handing up the Mexican coast and me cold chilling on the bus - but we both agree that in general the whole separate traveling thing just plain sucks. It takes away from the whole point of us traveling together. You know, the together part.

For instance, who do I make quips to when I see a sign out the bus window advertising conejo for 75 pesos a kilo? (That's the going rate for rabbit outside of Acapulco.) Or who helps Vlad feed the random birds that land on Bettie during passages? We're pretty much alone on all the myriad of little things that make traveling fun.

Granted, it was much tougher for Vlad because he was completely by himself for two to three days at a time, getting very little sleep and living on cheese sandwiches. He can handle this type of arrangement for a surprisingly long time, but after nearly 1,300 miles of solo sailing, including the 450 miles of our failed Acapulco attempt where I did nada, he was ready to be done. That's close to half the distance across the Pacific and a way harder passage to boot.

Comparatively, I was living in luxury - tacos any time, walks on the beach, fresh squeezed orange juice for breakfast and the occasional hot shower. I shouldn't be able to complain, but I will anyway. Mainly, I felt pretty guilty and kept trying to weasel my way back on to the boat. But Vlad was pretty insistent that that was a bad idea even though I had stopped throwing up. He said it was too much for him to sail the boat and take care of me if I got sick again and that it was just plain selfish. We only have one chance to incubate this baby properly, and it would be a shame to not give it the best we can.

But we're finally done!!

Acapulco: Pessimism Versus Optimism

On a boat, Acapulco is certainly a mixed bag. The anchorage is blessedly still but crowded with mooring balls and is very deep. The city has a lot to offer - major spots to provision and plenty of marine services - but good luck getting to those places if you can even figure out where to go. From the anchorage at night you're surrounded with sparkling lights reaching far into the hills. It's actually quite stunning, but walking around town can be a dirty and, unfortunately for my ultra sensitive snout, a smelly proposition.

Several things broke while Vlad was on passage that we needed repaired in Acapulco. Our water pump that bring in salt water to cool the engine and our primary bilge pump bit the dust at the same time while he was underway, which created a situation where seawater was coming up almost over the floor boards. Vlad managed to cobble together a working water pump by beating in the spare water pump's bearings and seals with a mallet. The spare water pump was also not working, by the way, though fortunately the spare bilge pump was! Luckily, Vlad's machinations worked, but we had no idea how long they would last. We were both pretty pessimistic about finding either a new water pump or spares and a machine shop here in Acapulco. We were pretty sure they existed, but who knows how many days and how many cab rides it would take us to find them. Enter Nacho.

For those of you who came to visit us in the San Blas or who have been to Nargana yourself, you might recall Federico, the Kuna man who did just about everything for cruisers - laundry, water procurement, guided tours, help with propane or whatever. Sure, he was occasionally drunk, but he always came through. Well, Nacho is kind of like the Acapulco Federico.

Shockingly, he got both water pumps repaired, got us a set of spare bearings and seals, our propane tank filled, the exact giant bolts that we need to secure the water pump and the bilge pump motor working, though it still has a broken plastic gear that we are going to try to find a replacement for in Puerto Vallarta. For all of this - the repairs, parts, propane, taxi rides and his time - we paid $160. And we didn't have to spend five days lugging water pumps and propane tanks all over town, which was especially nice since I got food poisoning from eating something on the bus ride. (And, no, it wasn't from the iguana tamales that some lady was selling. I did not eat them, I swear.)

Shockingly again, I think Nacho may have actually saved us money when you consider all the fruitless bus and taxi rides we would have racked up trying to find all these odds and ends. Add another point for optimism.

Really, the only straight up negative aspect of cruising Acapulco is the absurd dinghy docking situation. It is a laughable 350 pesos a day - or 29 dollars!! - at the Yacht Club, 100 pesos at the marina and dangerous to leave your dinghy along the public seawall without anyone watching it (mainly because there's not a good place to lock it). We found, through some lovely cruisers we met on S/V Brio (thanks for the cheesecake!), a dock to keep the dinghy at for 50 pesos a day, which is still outrageous but a downright steal in Acapulco.

But all pessimism aside, I will forever look fondly on this once bustling tourist town that is now one of Mexico's most dangerous cities. It gave Vlad and I a whole week to hang out together with almost zero vomiting on my part. We got to cook, make attempts at cleaning the boat (it's a big job at this point), take walks, fix stuff, enjoy the perfect weather and meet some nice and some strange people. For that, I tip my hat to Acapulco.  

Puerto Angel

Bettie amongst the pangas.

This sleepy little coastal town treated us like family. Exhausted after seven long days at sea, we pretty much fell into its arms, getting a place to stay, working out our diesel dilemma (Puerto Angel doesn't have a gas station, much less a fuel dock) and just generally recovering. People were exceptionally friendly with lots of "holas" to go around. Here are just a couple of examples.

1. We had to beach land the dinghy, which wasn't a big deal since there was little swell, but there wasn't a good place for us to put it as the beach was literally covered with fishing pangas. We asked a family if we could leave it in front of their house, and they agreed. Well, overnight the swell kicked up, and monster waves were crashing on the beach, and the family literally dragged our dinghy onto their patio to make sure it was safe. How incredibly thoughtful!

2. Getting diesel to the boat with the sometimes 12-foot waves that were crashing on the beach was Vlad's big excitement for the next day, but he wound up making friends with all the fishermen who helped him load up the diesel cans, push the dinghy into the water when there was a break in the waves and then help him time the waves to get back in. Despite the looming threat of having the dinghy flip in heavily breaking seas while filled with diesel cans, everyone seemed to have a good time, and I think Vlad became something of a legend around town. Seriously, for the following two days we couldn't take a walk without hearing someone shout, "Amigo!" and then proceed to discuss the sea state with us for several minutes.

3. It was a great place to stay by myself. The town is almost absurdly safe, like a more colorful and Spanish speaking Mayberry. I walked all over town, explored little markets and stores and had a decent time, despite missing Vlad. Plus, there was a surplus of watermelon those few days, and I reaped the benefit. Mmm, sandia agua fresca.

The only bad thing about Puerto Angel is the anchorage. It looks decently protected on the charts but in reality it's an open roadstead anchorage with occasionally large swell and not the best dinghy access.

P.S. Vlad made it to Acapulco on Saturday, and I joined him via bus. Way to go, single hander!

To Acapulco and Back Again

The harbor at Puerto Angel. Never a more welcome sight.

This was our biggest sailing pickle to date. We left Puerto Angel, which is about 200 miles south of Acapulco the Sunday before last and arrived back in Puerto Angel the next Saturday, turning a two-day passage into a week-long slog. Here's the play-by-play of our less than fortunate journey.

Day One: Threw up all day. Vlad sailed the boat.

Day Two: Threw up less. Vlad continued sailing the boat. We are getting close to Acapulco.

Day Three: Vlad informed me that we got stuck in a current the night before. We continue fighting the current. Twenty miles outside of Acapulco, we run out of diesel. I start throwing up again. For real.

Day Four: Vlad was up all night hand steering, trying to make headway. Our tacking angle was almost a straight line, and by midday, we had made 4.3 miles. We radioed the port captain in Acapulco and asked him if anyone would bring us out some fuel. He told us to standby, and that's the last we heard from him. We decided to take a long tack out to sea in the hopes of getting a better angle on our approach to Acapulco. Unfortunately, there was a 20 knot wind blowing out of the northwest, higher than expected waves at 6 to 9 feet and still that vicious current that seemed to stretch all the way to Hawaii. And we were beating against all of it. At this point, Vlad was exhausted and I was wondering why I ever thought a job shuffling papers in a cubicle was somehow unfulfilling. At least an office doesn't move. Plus, we are starting to worry about dehydration. As I am throwing up my last few sips of water into the galley sink, I felt the sun on my back. Vlad had turned the boat around, so instead of going against the waves and the wind and the current we finally just went with them.

Day Five: We made great time at 5.5 knots, and I had almost completely stopped puking. Downwind sailing isn't so bad after all. We were heading to Huatulco where there is a marina, some measure of stability for us and the boat so we could put things back together again. Plus, it was the closest fuel dock.

Day Six: We heard on the radio that the wind in the Gulf of Tehuantepec had picked up to 45 knots, making us nervous about trying to get into Huatulco without an engine. We adjusted our course to Puerto Angel, which is a cute town but a totally unprotected anchorage. We were once again about 20 miles away and the wind died.

Day Seven: Still no wind. We managed to drift within 6 miles of Puerto Angel when Vlad decided to use the dinghy. There wasn't much swell, and he tied the dinghy to the side of Bettie, somehow got our aged, temperamental  6-horsepower Johnson motor going and proceeded to drive us into port using the outboard as propulsion. Though it must have looked ridiculous, it worked pretty well except for the occasional big wave that came through, and then the dinghy would catch some air. Meanwhile he got the engine primed and ready because we did have five gallons of diesel left (it turned out we had more like 25 gallons left in the tank but the seas were so big that air kept getting in the fuel lines), and when we got close to Puerto Angel, he turned on the engine and drove us into the anchorage.

Did I mention that during all of this he took care of me, cooked all the food, washed all the dishes and just generally made sure that we were safe and sound despite the crap circumstances, and all with only 20-minute cat naps for seven days?? Well, he did. He still questions his decision to turn around, adding another 400 miles to our trip when we were within 15 miles from Acapulco, but part of wisdom is knowing when to cut your losses, knowing when to say enough. And we all made it safely to port. No one was hurt. No one had to be air lifted to the hospital, and I finally got some stillness in the form of a hotel room.

Two by Land And Two by Sea

I haven't posted since we left El Salvador, not because there's been nothing to write about but because things aboard Bettie have changed and we weren't quite ready to broadcast that change on the internet. But I'm tired of letting the blog fall into disrepair just because I don't know how to write around the big goings on aboard. So here goes.

We are having a baby! It's a bit unexpected but incredibly exciting and wonderful, except for one slight problem. I'm kicked off the boat. Most of you will recall my proclivity for vomiting while underway unless under the influence of anti-nausea medication. Well, mix in some morning sickness and the inability to take drugs and you have a savage combination. Basically, I have been throwing up since we left El Salvador. I threw up crossing the Gulf of Tehauntepec. I threw up from Puerto Angel to 20 miles outside of Acapulco and back again (will explain in a subsequent post).

Basically, I have spent the entire time we were on passage curled up in bed or vomiting into the galley sink. And to make matters worse, the anchorages at Puerto Angel and Huatulco, which should have provided some relief, were so rolly even with a stern anchor that I was in a perpetual state of queasiness. In the end, I craved a world that was totally and completely still. A world, you know, like land.

During my vomit-a-thon, Vlad did everything. I kept up a night watch (until the passage to Acapulco) so he got a few hours sleep, but other than that he pretty much single handed on top of doing all the dishes, cooking for me when I could eat, making sure I kept drinking liquids and fixing anything that broke. He is amazing. Completely amazing. But after our last passage that ended safely but back in the same place we started after a week at sea, we decided that maybe the baby didn't need to be mildly to moderately dehydrated for days on end and that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to take a pregnant woman who is projectile vomiting animal crackers out in the ocean at least for the time being.

Now, the baby and I are staying in a hotel in Puerto Angel, and Vlad and the hedgehog left Wednesday for Acapulco. He should get there today or tomorrow. I feel kind of guilty for chickening out, mainly because I don't want Vlad to have to do be out there by himself. But I feel sooooo much better and have been able to eat healthily and exercise and drink plenty of fluids, pretty essential stuff that I haven't been able to do for weeks. So while the situation is not ideal, it's the best one we've got.