Guava Jelly Travelogue Update
Received via email
May 28, 2006

After two seasons cruising i am finally prepared to depart Mexico. Sailing solo since Bahia de Banderas, i have had some practice in preparation for the more involved crossing of Golfo de Tehuantepec.

Most of the sailing down the coast has been pleasant with lots of spinnaker runs and wing on wing sailing. There have been a few windless stretches which has worked the volvo. I rarely run the diesel above 1500 rpm (her sweet spot) but with 75 hp i have the extra juice when necessary. Being i am comparatively late in the year for this section of coast i have seen very few other vessels. The most traffic has been when buddy boating with other cruisers tho i have done very little of this also.

So as i nervously approach the infamous bar crossing to Bahia del Sol, El Salvador i will divulge the story of the past 100 hours, soloing, from Bahia Huatulco to El Salvador.

Staging in Marina Chuhue in Oaxaca was easy enough. Xenos (Slater and Julie) and i had been together, on and off, since Barra de Navidad. We both worked diligently for two nights prepping the vessels for the T-Peck crossing. Cruisers are very familiar with this leg. It has built a reputation for kicking alot of ass. Experienced captains and their boats have been lost in this section. Geographically the southern isthmus of Mexico, dividing the Pacific Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico, provides a perfect windtunnel for weather from the northeast. For most days of the year this section produces gale force winds. Most people wait for the "weather window" , which means no wind, and punch it across with one foot on the shore. Sailing close to the beach will reduce the size of the waves if the wind picks up unexpectedly. Another approach is to rhumb line it straight across to the next desired destination. The latter is the course i used. Being solo i would need to sleep on this 450nm 4 day passage. Closer to shore i would have a more difficult time with naps with all the hazards present like......THE SHORE, other boat traffic, fishermen and their lines and nets. So offshore for me! I was crossing my fingers a t-pecker wouldnt kick up or worse a tropical storm or hurricane. Last year Adrian, the first of the season in the middle of may, formed off the T-peck and blew east, straight to El Salvador...across my proposed course.

Guava has seen very little marina time so i took advantage of the time in Huatulco to give my big girl a spa day. Lotsa scrubbing and loofaing for her....and she deserves it. Also knocked a few items off the ever growing list of projects.....some small some well.....as they say in Mexico, manana. I did manage to learn alot more about the motor. Noticing loose wires, corroded hoses and other issues, while changing the oil, i addressed them. Keeping it tight!!

Wednesday comes and Xenos and i are ready to cast off. Hang on...its full moon so we decide to wait until the bucking current subsides a bit and we plan to leave in the afternoon. Xenos, a Brent Swain 32 steel sloop, is a tad slower than Guava so she gets a head start while i button up a few more things. A couple of hours later i start Guava and step away to get my last dock hose shower and say goodbye to new friends and return to the boat mysteriously not running and the ignition key buzzing? What the ??? I try to start her again and only the thirsty sound of rrrrrrarararrrrarrrarr. Nothing. Now for years i have always said upon turning over the engine "Guava starts better than my car" so this was a surprise. This is no way to start a 4 day passage. After much investigating, checking parts, pumps, wires, hoses (things always break after i spent time fixing them before they broke!?!&%%@#*!!) I bled the fuel system and she was fine. Coincidentally i had on my project list to get a lesson in bleeding the fuel system. I would have preferred a lesson from a diesel guru, with a couple of beers, in the shade and not at night, immediately before shoving off on a treacherous journey but it all worked out. It was actually easy once i correctly diagnosed the problem.

I get a nap and shove off at 5am, 12 hours behind Xenos. So they got their head-start. Of course i tried to hail them on the radio immediately after my glitch arose but they were out of range. Thats how it goes sailing....everybody helps, advises, assists but in the end it is really every boat for themselves. So the moon was down and it was pitch black upon exiting the marina. The bay is peppered with a large reef as well as many scattered islets. Following my track in made it easy to negotiate the hazards and once beyond them i set a course for 104 degrees and this didnt change.

With sunrise, nervous and excited about things to come, i set the fishing gear. Using the old rod and the newly aquired hand line from Xenos i plan to catch lunch. Not 2 minutes upon deployment i hook a small bonito. Big enough to feed me but i opt, as per usual, to throw this fishlet back. Again set line and 2 minutes later......fish on. Same procedure. I go thru this 3 more times and then hook the beautiful dorado (mahi mahi). After a small fight i bring him to Guava and it is his lucky day. While licking my chops my next meal, in a last gasp for survival, dislodges for the hook and lives another day. Good for him and well......quesadillas again for me. For the remainder of the journey i managed to hook another 5 (bonitos)but released them all.

I guess this is the chance to tell the big tuna story. It wasnt on this passage but last week, on the way to Huatulco i landed the largest yellowfin tuna (see photo) of this year. Perfect timing to reunite with Xenos who arrived in the marina earlier and have a monster feast.

Back to the crossing. The next 2 days were relatively uneventful. Small bits of sailing interspersed between long hours of motorsailing. I was amazed how pool-like the ocean was. Full moon, flat calm and no swell. It really looked like a gigantic pool. Stayed busy accomplishing easy projects, reading, writing and lots of thinking. It is baffling how one can stare at the horizon, sky, sea for hours on end. Not quite like watching a flamenco performance, sports or The Sopranos but surprisingly entertaining. I constantly reminded myself to not temp Neptune, Buddha, Poseiden, God, Harry Wappler or whomever controls the weather, to change things. I had to be careful with my requests for some wind. You just might get what you ask for.

Someone received my semi bored vibe because on the third day i noticed my, twice repaired, altenator was not charging. Now there is something to do. I have been suspect of this system for awhile. Engine repairs at sea are to be avoided if possible but inevitable. Calculating the amount of battery power i have remaining and the distance, actually time, still to travel i opt not to work on a hot engine in the 100 heat while wallowing at sea. I would wait for some wind, raise the sails and switch out my small, but adequate, original spare altenator, hopefully at pre dawn.

Another day passes with little or no wind and i decide to make the change. Slightly worried about complicating things, the engine IS running, and the last forecast i received from a passing boat, t-pecker on the way, i look at my dwindling power supply and roll up my sleeves (actually i have been naked, except for a hat, for that past 3 days. Similar to the last time i changed it at sea it goes without incident and upon turning over the engine i am imediately pumping in 25 delicious amps. 30 minutes from when i started i am again on my way while juicing the batteries. This is great but i would much rather have the motor resting and be underfull sail in 15 knots of wind.

With dusk approaching and still little wind i feel i should drop the genoa (light wind, extremely large headsail) and reef the main, but what the hell....ive been motorsailing with this sail plan for days and it does relieve the volvo a bit. After dark, a chubasco (high winds, lightning and torrential rain) emerged from nowhere. It went from very light wind to 20kts in a matter of minutes. I luckily managed to ride out the first part of the storm with this sail plan. While in the relative calm of the eye of the storm i dropped the genoa but alone, with winds rising and lightning striking all around Guava i didnt have time to safely reef the main. With assistance from the motor i managed to sheet out and reduce pressure on the main. For a couple of hours i sat in the cockpit in awe of the forces of nature. The seas built to an uncomfortable level, the winds maintained at a surprisingly "calm" 25 kts, but the lightning was truely awesome. I felt very vulnerable but with no option, 40 miles from shore, i just sat in the cockpit, drenched but somewhat nonchalant about the situation. Fear, hopelessness, frustration.......not really. Mostly indifference to the hand i was dealt. I wasnt thinking about the "angry" sea. I felt a huge respect but tried to imagine the palmed lined beach that awaited me. These words can no way accurately express what i felt but thats the story. For the duration i sat and watched brilliant bolts touch the water all around me and hoped (ok...prayed a little) that i would not get struck. An incredible night and the first rain, of any kind, i had seen since departing Seattle in october. This occured on may 13th.

In relatively calm weather i push towards to plotted coordinates of Bahia del Sol entrance and am happy to be arriving sunday dusk at high slack tide...perfect for the dangerous, tricky bar crossing. I plan to pull in immediately, drop the hook and the next morning prepare the dinghy, head to town, fix the alternator, provision, rest, and quickly be on my way down the coast. Tarazed, the gatekeepers, cruisers who stopped here for a few days 4 years ago, assist with the bar crossing. They have watched the waves for years and have a great sense of when it is best to cross. Well they tell me this is not a good day and to drop the hook in the exposed roadstead and wait until high tide tomorrow. Dissapointed but that sounds simple enough.

Well i am writing from the same spot and it is saturday. Yes almost a week later and i still have not passed the bar. I talk with the boats inside on the vhf daily and feel like i know everyone already but have not actually seen anyone. I dont know what my previous record for not seeing another human being is but i surely broke it because it was over a week between the solo crossing and the added time waiting here. Strange feeling but somehow i have managed to stay busy. The week anchor has been potentially boring but surprisingly busy.

I wont recap all the projects i have completed here in this rolly anchorage but the list is extensive. Also read a few books and some good napping. Meals on the otherhand have suffered. Aside from being too hot to cook, Guava is rolling so much, nearly dipping the rails constantly, all day long. Impossible to boil spaghetti and frying eggs is a chore. This makes those projects very difficult also. Hell.....just sitting is a workout. I am sore from counterbalancing all the time and sleep is no different.

I do have one unique incident to share with you. The day my friends Xenos arrived i was very happy to see them. First we had not been in contact since their head-start from Huatulco the week before so i was a little concerned where they were. They had their own difficulties with the crossing, mostly nightly chubascos and an ridiculuosly expensive night in Guatemala, checkin and marina, when they were just seeking refuge and only wanted to anchor. So as they do a fly by where i was anchored i was all of the sudden swarmed by bees. At first i thought the hundred or so were going to be a small problem but within the next 10 minutes there were thousands swarming and landing in the cockpit. I camped at the bow and watched as they all settled in around the sail cover where it meets the dodger in the cockpit. (see photos) They were not really bothering me but they definitely were parked and here to stay. The mass formed a hanging bee-blob that was actually swinging from the dodger with the queen apparently buried somewhere inside. There was no way i could live with this so i carefully entered the cockpit and put the boards in to close up the inside (amazingly there were very few inside) gathered my fins and mask and swam to Xenos thinking they would leave in a bit. No chance! I could see them from their boat and had to address this problem. Upon returning to Guava i start by using the boat hook to "sweep" them away. Immediately there were thousands of agitated bees airborn and i am forced into the water. Climbing back aboard after they return to the same spot i douse them with buckets of sea water, jump in the water, climb aboard and repeat this process with no results. I wasted a full fire-extinguisher on them and this didnt phase them at all. Frustrated i decide on a more agressive approach......let the swatting begin. Worried this would backfire i approach the pack and with a fin smack directly in the middle, smashing hundreds and sending the others into a frenzy. Back in the water until they settle down i repaet the process many times. After 3 hours i feel i am making some headway and continue the massacare. Locating the queens, which i assumed were in the middle of the half a dozen bee globs strewn about after breaking up the core, and throwing them overboard was the turning point.

The biggest hazard was the sea state, which i previously described, during this debacle. Running around the deck in lurching seas, wildly swinging a swim fin, slipping, sweating, it was amazing i didnt break my back. During this 6 hour ordeal i only managed to be stung 15 times. Most of those were on my hands and feet from grabbing hold and stepping on them respectively.

The aftermath was awful. Dead bees all over the deck. I really felt bad about this but you just cant reason with a swarm of bees. I kept thinking they would 'get the hint' and take their business elsewhere. So dousing the deck with buckets of water only managed to plug up the scuppers (drains) with bee parts. Now dark i spend most of the next day dismantling the drain hoses, washing from under the cockpit floorboards, cleaning the bilge, all of which were full of bees. I hope that is the last experience like that. I had bee nightmares that night.

Now, anchored in the estuary of Bahia del Sol, after a relatively benign bar crossing, i hold the record for the longest wait on the outside.....7 days. This is a badge of honor i would have given up for a week on the inside.

Email Rick