North Rim Splendor

Once we decided to skip the heat and head for Arizona, Mike needed to take a little puddle jumper flight from Guaymas to La Paz to get the Bronco out of storage and get it back to San Carlos.  After landing in La Paz, he drove to Mulege for the night and then on to Santa Rosalia where he loaded himself and the Bronco on the Santa Rosalia Ferry. Ten hours later, a little worse for wear without much food or sleep, Mike and the Bronco arrived safely in Guaymas and headed to the boat.

Meanwhile, the kids and I had separated out all perishable food items to donate to the local orphanage and we got things pretty spic and span. The kids had one last sleep-over on Friday night with their good friend, Alec and then Saturday morning, we were off.

I was dreading the non-air-conditioned ride that the Bronco was offering up, but we were all pleasantly surprised. Once we got further from the water and headed up into monsoon activity, it was not a bad ride at all. Thanks to my not declaring that we had a grapefruit that I needed to throw away, this border crossing was much smoother than the last. We didn’t actually have a grapefruit this time, but I had learned my lesson to just nod, say we are citizens, hand over the passports and then keep my mouth closed.

We made it my sister’s in North Phoenix later that day and quickly cycled through showers and laundry.  Our next stop was our trailer in Yarnell where a majority of our camping supplies lived and then we were back in Phoenix the following day for haircuts all around. Mike seemed a bit sad to loose his pirate locks, but he looks 10 years younger. I got all of my hair cut off as well. I look just the same.

Looking closer to normal than we had for about the last 6 months, we traveled up to Payson to stay with my dad for a few days and acclimate back to the woods and off the boat.  The kids spent there days building forts and role-playing Marvel Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Mike and I mostly just slept. I think that the altitude was a hit after living on sea level for so long. But, after a few days, we felt once again refreshed and we were anxious to get to the Kaibab National Forest.

 

Vermillion Cliffs on the way to the North Rim

The North Rim is very interesting in that you will find a lot of people from all over the US and all over the world who have traveled hundreds and thousands of miles to see The Grand Canyon from this vantage point. But, you don’t find many Arizonans. It is a few extra hours of a drive compared to The South Rim for most people, but it is worth the additional time and gas to get here. Above 8500 feet, and with thick old growth woods and large sprawling parks of green grass, it is hard to imagine that the desert is so near.

Mike and I had been before pre-kids and then again a few years ago with the trailer. This time, we were just bringing the tent and doing it old school.  Driving in at dusk, we see lots of deer and turkey in the parks with the wild turkey keeping close to the boundary of the woods.

We see only a few camps occupied with RVs and trailers as we head down Forest Road 22 to the west. After a few more turns, we are on 222 and see an old forest road to the left that has been overgrown for years. Mike and I walk down a ways and find an established fire ring and a broad flat area bordered by Ponderosa Pine and aspen that will make a perfect site for us.

First order of business is starting a fire. Are you kidding me?! We did not bring a match, lighter or anything! Amateurs. It has been so long since we went camping, we were missing all kinds of things, but this was sort of essential. Luckily, as Mike says, the forest always provides. We found a spent little miniature Bic blue lighter on the ground. No fuel, but it had spark. A quick setup of the Coleman stove, light up a burner with the spark and use the flame for the larger fire. Voila!

 

Starting up the fire with the basics....again, a Tecate box saves the day

Since we have been here, the days have been flying by. I have been mostly cooking with either the Dutch oven in the fire or with the Coleman. The Coleman stove we have is ancient. The second burner won’t hold flame. The first burner sounds like a jet engine even at it’s lowest setting. We are going through propane like there is no tomorrow. 

The stove might be a pain, but it still produces a hearty gravy portion of a breakfast of Biscuits and Gravy. Good thing we are hiking daily!

In the morning, the kids do their school work. 

Language Arts with the girls in the morning

Then math with Daddy in the afternoon

After school we take hikes and practice archery and shooting. The kids are all doing well with the .22 Cub rifle. Keira got a compound bow that she has been wanting as an early birthday present. Unfortunately, she is just a bit shy of enough muscles to pull it back, but she is getting stronger every day.

Archery practice

Reid taking his gun safety quiz with Dad

The old growth aspen here are magnificent. I measured one this morning with a 5 foot circumference. Stunning. There are meadows ringed with these giants that make you feel like you just stepped into a Tolkien novel.

Our days have been hitting highs in the 60’s due to a few weather fronts, but we are looking forward to hitting high 70’s this weekend.  

The girls' fort

If it looks like the pictures are all from the same day, that is just because the kids wore the same clothes for nearly a week. But, we finally got showers and laundry from the Jacob Lake RV park and we are all shiny now. We also took a ride into Kanab, Utah for some fresh provisions and we got a new Coleman. Yea! I couldn't be more excited if I was discussing a new granite countertop for my (non-existent) kitchen.

We get internet here at the laundry facilities, so we should be checking in next week. Thanks for reading!

San Carlos, Sonora, Mexico

We woke in Sweat Pea Cove, after the night's symphony concluded, and it seemed as if the sound abated for about an hour before beginning up again where it left off. It was beautiful to listen to and experience. We will definitely need to return to Sweet Pea Cove and get some fishing in at a later date. 

This morning, we still needed to find a place for provisions, nothing critical, but we had run out of fresh fruit and vegetables a while ago. Mike and I sit in the cockpit, enjoying our morning coffee, checking his toe, which is healing quite nicely, and listening. The sun is coming up and the heat is starting to get uncomfortable. It is nearing 90 degrees with a clear sky and promises to perhaps hit one hundred. OK, with shade and/or AC, but we have neither. 

The heat and humidity... it is again the main topic of the day. After a long conversation, debating our next move, I cannot wait to do more diving, but we decide to head to San Carlos and put Mangas in a slip for the remainder of hurricane season. It is a difficult decision. We will come back the first week of October, after the heat has broken and finish the year. 

"Where to then?", is the next question. We have a 5th wheel trailer in Yarnell that, since we sold our house in Colorado, we now call home. We could take that on the road. Mike asks where I would like to go since this is my sabbatical year. We explore many places, but all of them seem way to expensive to me given our budget and given that we will need to pay for a marina for the next two months. 

Finally, we settle on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. Mike and I have camped there before and it is just gorgeous. Located in the Kaibab National Forest, it will be getting monsoon activity this time of year, which will mean that under the green pines and blue spruce, there will be a thick undergrowth of flowers and ferns. Decision is made, that is where we spend the months of August and September.

We head an hour north into Santa Rosalia to get a few items and it is hotter than hot. There is really no other word for it. Every chrome piece on the boat provides a potential for burns when touched and the teak deck is so hot, it requires shoes to be worn on board. 

We anchor just outside the breakwater at Santa Rosalia and dinghy to the Fonatur dock and head to the office to pay any docking fee. In the office, we run into 4 other cruisers who are taking a break from their two sailboats to enjoy the air conditioning in the office. We linger and chat, enjoying the adult conversation and the cool room. The nice agent behind the desk just charges us 10 pesos each for Mike and I. I give her a 20 and we head out to get beer and ice cream. 

One of the big treats in Mexico are the American Thrifty Ice Cream parlors popping up everywhere. We find one in town and get a cone for everyone to cool down. Summer promptly drops her bubblegum flavor onto the floor. After a quick cleanup, we head out. 

As we wander through town, I see the tell-tale signs of a nearby mining property. The buggy whips on the back of the ubiquitous white Toyota trucks, the gleam of reflective tape on pants and shirt sleeves and the picture badges hanging off pocket flaps of workers who come in to the Thrifty, seeking some reprieve from the heat themselves. The old copper mine in Santa Rosalia has been purchased by a Korean consortium and there is a flurry of work to get it to production. They may actually be already producing. I love the mining culture and it does make me a bit worksick for mining and I can't help but wonder where I will end up in 2015. The wealth it has brought to this town is obvious and you do not see the closed businesses or shut up homes, resulting from the recession, as you might see in other places. 

Putting our Spanish to work, we get the location of the mercado and head there for our provisions. The store is well stocked and we find everything we were hoping for. 

At only 75 nm, we will leave for San Carlos when we return to the boat, and should arrive in the early AM. We pull anchor and head out, motoring at about 6 knots. We have to make a pretty straight shot and there is no wind to really speak of, so we are likely motoring the whole way. We will later learn that experienced cruisers do not head out until about 1 AM, at which time they look across the sea to San Carlos to see if there is any storm activity. If they do not see lightening or thunderheads, they head out. Being newbies, we just went for it.

We have the autopilot set for course and I throw a cushion on deck so Mike and I can tag team the journey over. I go first, but when it is my time to give up the helm, I cannot possibly sleep. Usually, on these night passages, we will be far from any land through the course of the night. This time, we will be getting into the bay near Algodones at about 2 AM. If we fall asleep, or nod off, Mangas would just keep going until we ran aground right up the beach. I can't sleep. 

We see the lights of San Carlos and we see some lights from pangas off shore doing night fishing. On the radar, I see a large line about 500 meters off our starboard to the southwest, but it is complete darkness over the water. It is moving and getting closer. I hope that it is just a panga, but not being able to see something that close is a bit disconcerting. 

We have a large outcropping of rocks that turn into small islets jutting out of the water to the north that we cannot see, but we have put their GPS coordinates in the plotter to make sure we avoid them. We proceed in slowly to the bay and realize we have it all to ourselves. At 2 AM, we drop anchor and hit the sack. 

Bahía Algodones

 We join the local cruiser net on the radio the following morning and get some information from other cruisers on marinas and haul outs. As always, are unique consideration is our draft of 2.6 meters. 

We took our dinghy to Marina Real that lies in the corner of Bahía Algodones and we visit the office to check availability.  She has a slip that can take our depth - Yay! She asks how long we are looking for and we say until October and then there is big pause before she shakes her head. Right now, the high tides are gaining about 1 meter. For many of the channels that sit at 6 or 7 feet as they approach marinas, that means that we need to go in at high tide. In October, those high tides will drop to 1 foot. No bueno for our 8 1/2 foot draft. We can get in now, but we won't be able to get out again in October. Even at full moon and new moon, there is no guarantee that we will get the depth we require.

We return to the boat just in time to tie up the dinghy and sit out a chubasco that has built up in the afternoon. Chubasco's are a result of the monsoon activity on shore and the blow it creates off shore can be quite a thing for boats. This particular chubasco seems to hit gusts of around 30 knots, sustaining winds of about 25 knots. I watch as a shrimp boat comes in from the sea to seek refuge from the winds and swells. It rocks ominously starboard to port and back again as it navigates into the bay. 

Pangas soon join the now anchored  shrimp boat and everyone takes a siesta to wait out the chubasco.

Waters look deceivingly calmer than what we were experiencing

Meanwhile, we are contacting other marinas and haul outs trying to find a place for Mangas. We are disappointed that we will not be able to stay in Algodones, the green mountains and red rock are spectacular, we feel right at home here.





After the chubasco dies down, we decide to head out and over to San Carlos to anchor so that we will be closer to other options that we need to check out. We ask a local cruiser weather contact about the swells and they say they are dying down, so out we go.




OK, those swells did not die down. We are pushing through 15 foot swells and trying to hit them at a good 40 degree angle to ride them up and back down, but every now and again, I have to head into the trench to keep our bearing. On one particular turn, a huge swell hits us broadside and we heel over with the starboard side of the deck hitting water. OK, let's not do that again. 



We pull into the bay, and again, it is simply stunning. The monsoon rain activity has resulted in a desert that is popping bright green. We get on the radio and inquire about the mooring balls. We are told that you need to test them, but it should not be an issue for us to attach to one for a couple of days. We pick up a ball and get hooked and then head in to the marina to visit with old friends that we have not seen since Mazatlan. 

Mooring ball and anchorage area outside of Marina San Carlos

Another view of the bay with the sea beyond the saddle in the picture above.

So, problems with staying in San Carlos:

1. No one has slip availability for our depth
2. The haul-outs all all trailers, except for one, which has a travel lift
3. The one with the travel lift is in the back of Bahia San Carlos where all entries drop to 6 feet depth in October, November

We call Fonatur in Puerto Peñasco and they have no space. We call Fonatur in San Felipe and they have space. Great! But, San Felipe is 275 nm to the northwest. That will mean another 4 days of travel in 100+ degree heat. Top that with tales that chubascos this year are particularly prevalent, more than anyone can remember in recent memory. The possibility of getting caught in chubascos of 70 knot gusts on our way to San Felipe does not sound great. Stories abound of particularly bad chubascos in 2007 that caught three sailboats near the same island group we would have to pass through. That storm resulted in one broken mast and several busted spreaders on the other two boats. 

Another San Carlos option might be the mooring ball. We learn that some are managed and available. Mike is not sold that a mooring ball will hold Mangas during a hurricane, but I am sold on the $100/month price tag.

Luckily, on day two, we speak to Marina San Carlos and learn that someone has just vacated a 65 foot slip that is at the edge of the marina where the depth is 12 feet. Yay!! 

I am not excited about the price tag, but I am excited to not be making a fast run over to San Felipe. San Felipe itself was not necessarily smooth sailing since the difference between low and high tides is an awesome 22 feet. We would have to stay about 2 miles off shore and then come in at just the right time to avoid getting hung up. Yikes. 

We slip in the following morning and find another Wauquiez on the same dock. Two other sailboats on our dock have full-time residents, and we quickly get a great network of fellow boaters.

Now the prep for the boat to get her ready to be shut up until we return in October...

Santo Domingo Bay and Sweet Pea Cove

The white sand beach of Santo Domingo with the entrance to Bahía de Concepción on the opposite shore

Heading out of Escondido, we decided to get up to Bahía de Concepción, another 70+ nm to the north. That meant a night sail and we had good winds for it. We set the sails and got another good port tack that would take us out for a bit at about 5.5 knots. As we passed near Loreto, we heard the familiar zzzzinnng on the ugly stick fishing pole hanging off the back. Mike turned us into the wind and did a heave to maneuver to slow us down. 

We have become very efficient at heaving to, and it has come in quite handy on many occasions. When we do this, we are folding the genoa jib sail in the front sort of unto itself. So if we are on a port tack, which means the wind is coming over the port (or left) side of the boat, our genoa and our main are both on the starboard side to catch the wind. By turning to a starboard tack, but keeping the genoa set for a port tack, the wind is now blowing on the outside of the sail cloth, but the main is now on a starboard tack. This creates two competing forces and as a result, voila! the boat slows down to a near stop and you can do what you need to do. This can be a necessary emergency tactic for strong storm winds, but luckily, we have only used it when we need to be taking care of something that is difficult to do if we are underway. 

OK, back to our little fishy. So we start to reel it in. Everyone is excited. Is that a yellow color on the tail?! What is it? Yellow Fin? Dorado? And, inevitably....it's a skip jack. I feel that we are cursed to only pull in skip jack and at this point I am starting to wonder if the only break to this curse is to actually eat one. We actually soaked our last ones in milk, as recommended by the local fisherman, but ended up having to give it to someone else. They did later eat it and said it was good. Still skeptical. I still remember the taste from that skip jack in 2000, and I am not in any hurry to repeat that culinary experience. We pull it in as we debate whether to keep it. The kids are voting to keep, of course they do not have to clean it. Mike and I are looking at each other like, are you going to be the first to say, let's throw it back? As we are waiting for the other to say what we are both thinking, this damn thing is flopping all over, spraying the inside of the cockpit with blood. Ugghh!  I finally break, "Throw it out!" We do and it swims off on its merry way. Meanwhile, it has managed to spray every inch of the cockpit. It seriously looks like a Chicago slaughterhouse onboard. Blech! That's it! From now on, skip jacks are strictly Catch and Release!

We release the sails from the heave to and continue on. 

The night was uneventful, but had great wind for the majority that scooted us along at about 5 knots or so. There were a few hours where we needed to motor, but the batteries can always use a top off and fresh water can be made at the same time.

Morning dawns and we can see the land ahead that marks the tip of the entry to the bay. We look at the guide and see that there is a nice beach on the north of the tip called Santo Domingo and we decide to head into that. Wind takes us nearly all the way, but as we approach, we bring down the sails and start the engine to allow for more maneuverability. There are two sails and one motor vessel already in the bay, but it is a large area so we swing around and approach from the northwest to avoid the shallow shoals. After a bit of shuffling around, we find a spot at about 18 feet that allows us to just barely tuck back far enough to get some protection from winds that whip around the eastern point of the bay. The water is crystal clear. You can see everything along the bottom and the kids immediately jump in to retrieve clam shells they can spot down below.

Sonoran vistas surrounding Santo Domingo

The land has received a lot of rain and the desert plants are lush, fragrant and green. Lots of critters abound and Mike captured a nice snap of a most particularly curious fellow below.

A young Desert Jack Rabbit with those lovely big ears

Bay to ourselves with Mangas in background

The following morning, the other boats had pulled out and we had the cove to ourselves.
We took the dinghy on to shore with all of the snorkel gear. We found lots of long narrow rock shelves just under the water that were teeming with little fish. Floating over the top with a snorkel, just letting the current carry you over the small rocks and sea weed patches and then further over the large boulders with some reef life is so peaceful. There were many wrasses with their bright pinks and blues and yellows and many starfish. The reef area itself is not very healthy, but it is hard to tell if it is declining or coming back. I saw a bright parrot fish scrapping off nibbles from the rocks and many triggerfish and bass. We could have easily floated out there all day.

Snorkling crew in the crystal clear blue

Mike decided it was high time to get out his speargun and bring home some dinner. He headed out over the reef area and quickly came up with a good 12-inch grunt fish. Dinner! We sent him back for another and he rose again with a 10-inch grunt and all smiles. Nice to know we can bring home fresh fish when the ugly stick fails us. 

Mike with the smaller of his two grunts getting ready to filet

He is anxious to get out again to spear the following morning. Unfortunately, that night, as Mike was securing the deck for the night, I hear a rain of obscenities from topside. Mike has ripped open his pinky toe on a latch setup for the line bags. 

I bring him down and take a look. He has ripped it right along the seam at the inside base of the toe where it meets the foot. I quickly grab our first aid kit and get out the hydrogen peroxide, antibiotic gel and bandages. As I lift the toe up to look underneath, I see a gaping hole and much of the inner workings of the toe. Blech. I am debating whether we need to seek medical care for stitches and, meanwhile, telling Mike it doesn't look too bad, it's fine. Luckily, he can't see it from his vantage point. 

There is blood, but not a lot because the way the pinky toe naturally curls, it keeps the gash closed. I pour the hydrogen peroxide and squirt in copious amounts of antibiotics. Then I try the steri-strips, but the gel and the position of the wound won't allow them to adhere. I wrap it with gauze and tape it with water repellent tape and call it good. Due to its location and the fact that the skin gap is naturally closed by the toe's position, we decide that stitches are not going to do any better. Being that it is the foot, we start him on a course of antibiotics just for good measure. He will be out of the water now for at least a week.

As gorgeous as it is in the bay, it is hot. "Biloxi Blues" keeps playing in my mind with Matthew Broderick marching and bemoaning, "This is hot, this is like Africa hot". We need to stay undercover from about 9 AM until about 6 PM because the heat and the cloudless sky makes for a very uncomfortable day. Mornings and evenings are awesome, but we are beginning to wonder if we can take the oppressive heat for the next 2 months before it breaks. Unfortunately, Mike cannot even get a break with a swim since he is now boat bound. 

We had planned to get a bit of provisions at the tienda in Bahía de Concepción, but learn that provisions are scarce there outside of the cruising season. We decide to head north to Santa Rosalia for the provisions.

It should only take us a day to get up to Sweet Pea Cove just outside of Santa Rosalia where we will anchor. Wind is great for half the day and then nothing in the afternoon and we are forced to motor. Coming along the eastern side of Isla San Marcos we look to its eastern shore line to see if we can spot an anchorage, but quickly decide to stick to the original plan and motor over to the western side and Sweet Pea Cove. The flying fish are also active. We saw hundreds of these on our recent crossing and we really enjoy watching them  - although we do not enjoy when they actually make it on deck. They go incredible distances, hundreds of yards flying along the surface. They look like little bright silver metallic birds skimming along the swells. As we near the tip of the turn and are about to make a west heading - zzzzziiiinng! The ugly stick sounds off and we have something on the line. 

Mike quickly gets not the reel and starts to bring it in. "What is it?!"  The kids yell. Skip Jack, I think. It suddenly flies out of the water and lands on its side. OMG! Is that what we think it is? A Dorado! Woohoo! Finally. 

Dorado! (aka Mahi-Mahi)

We pull him in and he is absolutely beautiful. We know that he will provide some fresh fish meals for a few days to come. We quickly put him in the cooler and the kids keep checking to watch his colors change. The fish is no longer alive and its scales go completely grey, then Reid adds water to cool it down and it turns green again. This keeps the kids entertained for most of the afternoon. 

Fish secure, we head around the north tip of the island to Sweet Pea Cove. Already in the cove are two boats that had been at Santo Domingo and we quickly chat it up with them on the radio to announce our big catch. They both had luck with Dorado that day as well, so everyone is well stocked.

After setting anchor at 30 feet, Mike gets down to the business of cleaning the fish. Once the kids are past the initial wonder and excitement induced by the cleaning, they join me on deck and watch the incredible water show in the cove. 

Future fish cleaners getting a lesson

This cove is just a flurry of activity. There are schools of large fish being chased to the surface and jumping out to avoid, who knows what, everywhere you look. There are at least 30 or so small rays slapping the surface all over the cove. Together these activities create a cacophony of sounds that reverberate off of the cove walls. It is really loud. Not sure what is lurking below and driving all the activity?  The kids and I decide to skip the evening swim. 

Once the filets are ready, it is already quite late, so I soak them in lime and tequila and prepare them for the next day. Instead, we eat a quick pasta meal and call it a day. We throw all of the cushions on deck and get our sleeping arrangements organized. It is about 11 PM by this time and the activity on the water has not abated. In fact, it seems to be getting even more frenzied. Even larger fish are flying out of the water avoiding something or some things. The rays are slapping harder, or probably just seems that way. And then, there is another sound. In the darkness, it sounds like a diver breaking up through the surface and taking deep breaths of air before heading down again. It is a disconcerting noise, until I realize that the noise is coming from sea lions who have come to feed. Everyone else is asleep, but I cannot help staying awake, looking at the stars and listening to all of the crazy and spectacular sounds. 

Back on the Baja

Lightening on the horizon

Our first night anchor after crossing was in San Evaristo. This small fishing village has a great cove that is protected from most winds and swells, except those coming from the east. With the southerly blows we were having, we knew it would be fine. San Evaristo also has a couple of small tiendas and I was dying for a Mexican Coca-cola. I rarely drink soda in the states, but there is something special about Mexican cokes. Maybe it is the old fashioned cane sugar rather than corn fructose? Maybe just a different recipe altogether, but whatever the reason, they are especially refreshing. Yum. 

We pulled in and immediately got the dinghy out and headed for the beach and the mini-market beyond. Luckily, she did have a few sodas, but since it was way past the usual cruiser season, she didn't have much else. No worries, coke in hands, we trotted off back down to the beach. 

It was hot, really hot. The water is so warm right now that it is feels good to be in it, but coming out feels like you never actually got in. Thankfully we did have some wind in the evening, which helped. The cove is really beautiful this time of year. It might be hot, but they are getting rain, so everything is popping up green.  We tried our hand at fishing, but only those damn puffers seemed to chase the hook. 

I was really looking forward to staying put for a few days after the 3 night passage, but the following day, the winds started to pick up from the north and Mike wanted to take advantage of it and get some good sailing in, so we headed out about 11 AM.  And, he was right, it made for wonderful sailing. We headed off on a port tack taking us straight towards Isla San Jose across the channel. We were soon doing 8 knots over water with very minimal heeling as we held a beam reach point of sail. We tacked a few times to make it out of the channel and made good time, but a storm was building behind us and we needed to seek an anchorage before nightfall. We headed for Timbabichi. We had anchored here before in the winter, but our trajectory on the plotter had been lost, so we headed in with an eye on the depth finder. We must of come over a sandbar, because it got as shallow as 10 feet and freaked me out a bit. After maneuvering around a bit, however, we found a nice 20 ft drop spot and let her go. 

We fished for a while and had a great front row seat to a spectacular lightening show to the south around San Evaristo, where we had just left. We felt really lucky not to be in the middle of that. At 65 feet, our mast is typically the tallest in every anchorage. Not sure that comes into play with lightening, but we feel very vulnerable as a result. A lightening strike on a boat is not good. 

Honeymoon Cove

The following day, we headed to Puerto Escondido, the aptly named Hidden Port to the north. They had fuel, which we needed, and hopefully a stocked tienda.

Heading in is interesting, if you have never been in before, because it really is quite hidden. The first place you hit is the Waiting Room with the breakwater to the port just beyond. A deep cove, this area has mooring balls that apparently are private. Not sure how that works. The small breakwater entrance into the main port, and where we find fuel, is only about 10 feet deep, so we need to be cautious. We cruised through the Waiting Room to see if we could find an anchorage, but at 65 feet, we did not feel comfortable putting out that much rode in such a small area. Instead, we headed across the channel to Honeymoon cove on the Isla Danzante.

We found a great little spot and had the cove all to ourselves. As we dropped anchor, the rays came out in full force, slapping the waters surface as they jump in and out. Have yet to find a definitive reason for this behavior in my research, but, if I had to guess, it would appear that they do this slapping on top of schools of small fish. Do they stun them with the slapping? The slapping resonated on the canyon making for loud cracks throughout the evening. We put up our tent, which covers most of the cockpit and the deck to the mast, and then placed all of the cushions and pillows up top for sleeping. It was still too hot to try to sleep below. 

It was a beautiful evening with thousands of stars. We were able to view the Hubble telescope as it glided its way across the sky. We also caught Mars and Saturn as well as a number of constellations we were still not familiar with. 

In the morning, we had some protection from the early sunrise from the cove walls to the east. It made for a very pleasant morning and we looked forward to hanging out in the cove for a few days...and then...

At about 9 AM, we saw a bee. Now the standard rule around here is to make sure to kill any single bees. These are reportedly scouts and when you see one, that means others are sure to follow. Unable to get the little sucker, we quickly dried up all water along the sink, made sure there were no standing dishes and were not very concerned. About 30 minutes later, there were 4 bees. Keira, as per normal, immediately got stung - poor thing. She is a magnet for bees and jellyfish. An hour later there were hundreds. We sent the kids down below with a fly-swatter and all the portholes closed, while Mike and I pulled up anchor as fast as we could and scaddadled! The tent was still up, but we had to get out of there. I was dancing at the helm, trying not to get stung and Mike stepped on a bee and got stung in the foot. We pulled up anchor fast and motored out to the channel as quickly as possible. When we finally got a safe distance, we opened up the companionway and let the kids out. Coming out of our cabin, Reid looked like a little warrior with his neck dripping blood where he had been stung and our little fly shaped fly-swatter in his hand, minus its antenna and 3 plastic legs from one side. He was exhilarated to tell us that his last count was 28 slain! The girls, Keira's sting behind her, were unscathed. The galley area looked like a war zone. Lots of little black carcasses scattered everywhere. 

Despite their casualties, the bees had definitely won and we decided that we needed to bite the bullet and head into the port. 

Not knowing if the breakwater channel was deep enough, we pulled into the Waiting Room and pulled up an unoccupied mooring ball. The thought being we would dinghy in and check depth before scooting Mangas through. 

We grabbed a ball and got hitched without a problem, and then the radio came alive. 
1st Cruiser: "C_, C_, M_" 
2nd Cruiser: "This is C_, go ahead M_" 
1st: "Channel 17"
2nd: "17" (We turn to 17, believing this exchange and our arrival was no coincidence) 
1st: "Hey, wanted to let you know that someone has taken one of your spots" 
2nd: "Oh, OK, thanks for looking out for me"

Good grief. I quickly got on 16... "This is a call out to any cruisers in the waiting room, Mangas, Mangas" a moment later...
1st Cruiser: "Mangas, this M_, how about 17?" 
Us: "17" 
1st:" Hello, are you who just pulled in and moored?" (Like they did not know...:) ) 
Us: "Yep, we are hoping to get information about depth before we go in for fuel" (Nice as pie voice as I can muster)
1st: "Oh, I see, yea, it is high tide you can go in no problem" 
Us: "OK, great, thanks for the information, Mangas back to 16" 
1st: "Back to 16". 

If you are not familiar with VHF, that is pretty much the syntax for all communication. But, the context of this particular exchange is pretty funny. They were really put out when they first called back to us, but after they realized that we were not out to squatter on someone's ball, they relaxed and actually got friendly. Who are these people? How does one get a private mooring ball in Mexico in a cove in the middle of nowhere? When half of them are unoccupied, why do they care if someone uses one? Good grief...it is our common refrain in these situations. 

We got into the fuel dock with no issue, unfortunately, we found that the tienda and restaurant were no longer here due to the higher rates they were faced with last May by the government run Fonatur, which manages this port. So, with fuel no longer an issue, we continue north towards Bahia Concepcion.