Ixtapa to Manzanillo -- Sailing as good as it gets

As ridiculous as it sounds, we decided to take a short break from our extended break. We needed to get some various spare parts and stand on terra firma for a bit, so we flew to Tampa, Florida to spend a few days with Naomi's family. There, we were joined by her brother Dan, his wife Erica and precocious 3-y/o son Austin, and we saw friends Jennifer Garlick and Darren Wilson (congrats on the new baby, Darren!)

While in Tampa we literally absorbed all the things we'd been missing while in Mexico...sushi, chinese food, good beer(chimay, IPAs, etc.), football (how 'bout that Cardinals v. Eagles game?), and movies (we saw the excellent Slum Dog Millionaire and Gran Torino, both highly recommended). With all the food choices, I felt like the proverbial "mid-80s Russian who comes to America and goes to a supermarket and goes crazy with the selection" and we both came back at least a few pounds heavier.

After a long trip back to Marina Ixtapa (involving two flights, 3 cab rides, and a 5 hour bus ride) we got going North for the 200 nautical miles to Manzanillo. We had a bit of an argument about "passage making strategy"...I wanted to sail the whole way through in one shot, whereas Naomi wanted to break up the trip into shorter segments, as we had done on the trip down.

The problem I had with the latter strategy is that the marginal anchorages in between were very rolly and subject to huge swells...it's hard to sleep when the boat pitches every which way, and my thought is that it's actually more comfortable to keep going than stop. In other words, the forward motion of the boat makes for more predictable and thus more comfortable motion, whereas at anchor the boat pitches in erratic fashion. Both can be severe, but somehow, for me at least, predictable rolling makes for a better night's sleep.

Anyway, I 'won' the argument (a rare thing) and we decided to go the distance. As luck would have it, this turned out to be a great call, as we had an excellent tail wind for most of the journey, and ran with the Monitor windvane doing much of the steering.

We had also taken the time in Ixtapa to switch our headsail (the jib) from the standard, working sized one to the massive "170". 170 means 170 percent; to illustrate, 100% means the most-aft part of the jib extends all the way to the mast, and thus a 170 goes well past the mast; it's a massive sail, also called a "deck sweeper". Frankly I had a little trepidation to use it, since in SF we would never use a a sail that big for risk of being overpowered and out of control. I guess you could say after a decade of sailing reefed down most of the time, I have a distrust of huge sails.

But this choice ended up working out well as well, and we literally flew up the coast. It was really excellent light air sailing, and our gal Hurulu showed her colors. And amazingly enough, we got in ahead of schedule-- a first for us! We had anticipated a roughly 50 hour sail, but ended up arriving instead about 12 hours early. We were guided into the crowded dark anchorage by our ever-present pals on La Palapa. We hung around with Roger and his very nice and funny friend Sarah at the resort, where the drinks are strong and the pool refreshing.

We also continued our pattern of catching NO fish, but to compensate, this leg was very "dolphin rich"...around sunset on both days we had 20-30 spotted dolphins come and swim along with us for upwards of half our or so. Also, during my 3 am to 6 am shift, I had a dolphin tag along with me and jump 3 feet out of the water at least a half dozen times. Fun stuff, and it breaks up the night passages nicely.

He also lit up the water with phosphoresence. This is something that needs to be seen to be understood. But basically, on moonless nights, when you get away from land and population centers-- basically away from any ambient light source-- it's really really dark. I think we forget how black the night can be, since we're so rarely in true darkness. The phosphorescent light, which looks like a stream of stars, trails behind the boat from the propeller, and it also streaks from any moving object, like my accompanying dolphin. I think I mentioned this in a previous post, but the dolphins swim right at the boat, and since you can only see the bright phosphorescent trail, it looks freakishly like a torpedo headed for the beam. (Perhaps this is enhanced by the delirium of the 3 am watch, but regardless it's a very cool 'special effect').

Getting back to the story, we spent yesterday at the Las Hadas resort hotel, lounging by the poolside. I took a walk over the hills and explored some abandoned/derelict houses with million-dollar views. I've noticed that throughout Mexico, there are a huge number of either half-finished or abandoned mansions and villas, presumably because their owners ran out of money. Kind of fun to explore.

Here in Las Hadas we are now doing a few boat projects and awaiting my good friend Susan, who will accompany us for a few days up to Barra de Navidad and possibly Tenacatita. I'll post again after the always-jovial Susan and I tear up the town...