s.v.Indigo

Sweaty, Sandy, Salty....

2012-02-05T12:40:00.000-08:00

We've been anchored for nearly a week at Tenacatita, a large, shallow bay embraced by a perfectly curved beach, and protected from the northwest swell by rocky islands and headlands. We've fallen into a daily routine. Daytime exertions include kayak trips into mangroves (green herons, reddish egrets) and around rocks where the surf crashes (oyster catchers, black vultures), rowing ashore for beach walks (outboard motor not working), and swimming off the boat. Mid afternoon we are melting with the heat, and hose off with fresh water on the stern steps. Naps happen; how still can you stay, what tiny breezes can you find.
Evenings are blessedly cooler, providing time and energy for ambitious cooking. Breezes, a near-full moon, a bottle of wine. The occasional get together with other boaters.
Mornings are best. At first light the local fishermen are all around us, throwing out nets for the small bait fish that hide under our boats. Bottle-nosed dolphins surface, breathe, and dive again and again, weaving through the anchorage. Gradually we rouse ourselves, and gear up for another day, becoming steadily more sticky, sweaty, sandy, salty.

Costalegre

2012-01-28T19:28:00.000-08:00

The Mexican mainland coast south of Puerto Vallarta and Bandares Bay is called the Costalegre, which can translate as the happy or light-hearted coast. Our experience, exactly, since we have found the living - and the sailing - to be easy here. The water is warm, the winds are light and steady, the days sunny and hot, and the evenings cool. There are a chain of good anchorages, close enough together so that the passage from one to the next is an easy daysail. The seas have been calm, allowing us to set the spinnaker and make long downwind stretches under sail. Once at anchor, we swim off the stern, and enjoy gentle evenings and mornings.

Most of our anchorages have been adjacent to small Mexican towns, but we had one memorable anchorage off the community of Careyes, where our crew member Doug has family. Careyes was built by Italians, and mimics resorts along Italy's coast, with homes and hotels hanging off the steep shore. We anchored among tall rock outcrops, and rowed to shore through the surf to enjoy lavish hospitality.

In this calm, sunny stretch of ocean, we have had clear views of whales, sea turtles, and a range of dolphins and fish. Mac had one memorable tug of war when he caught a big fish. It took him twenty minutes of hard work to reel the fish in so that we could identify it as a Crevalle Jack - not good for eating, but a beautiful fish nonetheless. We have high hopes that we will catch something we can eat soon!

A week out of Bandaras Bay, we pulled into Barra Navidad, where Doug - very reluctantly - jumped ship and returned to Seattle. He was great crew, and also lucky, as the Costalegre has easily been the most pleasant, scenic, and warmest stretch of sailing in all of our travels on Indigo.

Note - there are new photos posted on Flickr. Click on the link to the right that says "Photos from Indigo's Crew".

El Otro Lado....

2012-01-20T20:43:00.000-08:00

We have crossed over from the Baja Peninsula to the Pacific Coast of Mexico. The crossing from San Jose del Cabo to Mazatlan - about 160 miles - was easy with great stargazing early in the night passage, and a moon rising about midnight that resembled an orange section. The light just before dawn, near Mazatlan, illuminated the sails so gently.

After a few days moored in Mazatlan, our longtime friend and sailing companion, Doug Bayley joined us. Reunited, we sailed south and east to San Blas, the historic home port of the Spanish Pacific fleet. These days, San Blas is a small, but vibrant coastal fishing town, but once it was the starting point for Spanish exploration that ranged as far north as Sitka, in what is now Alaska.

While tied up in San Blas, we hiked up the high hill where the Spaniards built their fort and garrison. The photo above is the interior of the church that was part of the garrison. It was first built in 1769; the stonework stands nearly untouched.

This mainland coast of Mexico is dramatically different than the Sea of Cortez. Vegetation is lush; the vegetation along the shore is jungle, with palms and mangles. We are moving south quickly, now located at La Cruz in Bandares Bay, and ready to set sail towards Barra Navidad. We are in expedition mode with a great crew of three.

Perfect Crew

2012-01-07T20:48:00.000-08:00

We have just finished up a week of travel with the perfect crew. We might be biased, and we might have made this claim before. Regardless, our son Sam and his wife Kate seem like the perfect crew on Indigo. They are continually cheerful and enthusiastic, they fit in the rather small forward veeberth, and they are undaunted by wind and heavy seas.

With them, we sailed from La Paz on New Year's Eve, traveling to Ensenada Grande on Isla Partida. Fair weather and light winds made great conditions for hiking to the high, eastern ridge of the island.

Calm mornings allowed kayaking in the shallow water, which was an amazing green color.

The true mettle of all four crew members was tested by our passage down the East Cape of the Baja Peninsula, with stops at Bahia de los Muertos and Los Frailes. We were blessed with northerly winds at our backs, but the seas were boisterous, and the wind stayed in the 15 to 20 knot range. We made good speed using only the jib.

The high point of the trip was off Punta Colorado, when we hooked a big fish. The Captain has been taking advice from trusted cruising friends, and has geared up for open ocean fishing. This was our first trip with fishing gear out, so it was a learning experience to hook and bring in the fish....made more difficult by the brisk 18 knot breeze over the stern, so that we couldn't slow the boat below 4 knots. Mac and Sam persisted, and netted the beautiful fish - a twenty inch tuna we identified as a Mexican bonito, which is not great to eat, so the guys released it. From that point, the excitement abated, as we sailed to the anchorage at Los Frailes, and then on to Los Cabos, where we had to say goodbye to our perfect crew.

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Colorful LaPaz

2011-12-28T16:39:00.000-08:00

This is our final week in La Paz, where the streets are quiet - many businesses are closed between Christmas and New Years, and the traffic is light. Great conditions for exploring the streets, and discovering amazing color juxtapositions. The small work boats in the Sea of Cortez - called pangas - are traditionally painted some shade of blue, but not just one shade. Where a bunch of pangas are pulled up together, there is a study in blue.

Virtually all the buildings in La Paz are constructed of concrete and finished with plaster, which is then painted. The colored plaster surfaces mellow quickly in the bright sun, and shadows are interesting variations on the color of the fully sunlit walls.

And if that's not enough color for you, there are the sprays of Bougainvillea draped over walls and escaping from courtyards.

Some of these color events found their way into paintings - see them here: http://sailingstudio.us/news

Colorful LaPaz Christmas

2011-12-25T19:48:00.000-08:00

We have had a crazy, mixed up Christmas here in LaPaz. We have observed a few treasured family traditions: baking and sharing Orange Teas, the favorite Christmas cookie; taking a long, long walk on Christmas morning; and preparing a savory Christmas feast (Leg of Lamb, braised in wine and vegetables).

On the other hand, we have been cut loose from lots of other Holiday obligations. Clearly there have been fewer trips to odd stores, less gift wrapping, fewer holiday parties. Can't say whether one Christmas is better than another, but we do confess to having a transitory feeling of lightness about the holidays.

Plus an accompanying feeling of missing all of you whom we would see during the holidays. Merry Christmas to all!

Blue Footed Booby

2011-12-18T11:07:00.000-08:00

Let's get down to some serious stuff here. This is our best yet view of the Blue Feet on the Blue Footed Booby. I love it when nature delivers something so colorful and funny. If you want to see those feet in action, check out this YouTube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oYmzdvMoUUA
More serious funny stuff: we've uploaded new photos on Flickr - click on the link to the right for "Photos from Indigo's Crew.

Punta Tintorea

2011-12-14T19:13:00.000-08:00

We took a few days off from chores in La Paz, and sailed north the twenty-odd miles to Isla Partida, where we anchored at Ensenada Grande. This anchorage, in fairly calm seas, provided an opportunity to ease back in to the kayaks, which had been disassembled and stowed under the forward v-berth since we left Barkley Sound in British Columbia.

It also gave a a chance to hike up into to desert shoreline, where we discovered a host of wildflowers blooming, almost certainly as a result of the recent rains. These dark blue morning glories were growing next to oyster shells, which were abundant near the beach. In some places, there were piles of shells like middens - it must have been good eating at some time in the past.

The skies have been unsually gray for the past few days, but early Tuesday morning, as we were pulling up the anchor to head back to LaPaz, the first rays of the sun illuminated Punta Tintorea, the northernmost point of Ensenada Grande, providing the odd and wonderful light in the photo above.

Settling in La Paz

2011-12-10T14:02:00.000-08:00

We have been in La Paz for a little more than a week, and we are slowly adjusting to a new kind of schedule. We are tied up in friendly Marina de La Paz, and the Captain's days are spent on myriad boat chores amidst the general chatter along the docks. The Mate has rented a small studio, and her days are spent tucked away in a small, second story space, trying to relearn the discipline of painting.

We are happy to return to LaPaz, and fascinated to see what has changed (more middle class homes, more gringos, some interesting new venues for art and music) and what is the same (the old part of the city retains its frontier infrastructure, even while individual structures are being renovated). Lots of north wind this time of year, and lots of dust. It is a small city where cruising sailors can tie up for awhile and relax into the routines and adventures daily life.

Summing Up: Stats from Our Southbound Journey

2011-11-23T18:09:00.000-08:00

We ended up with an extra layover day in the marina at Cabo San Lucas, due to some questionable fish tacos that we both ate yesterday. It didn't take much of our depleted energy to add up all the numbers from our trip from Astoria to Los Cabos. Here are the basics:

Miles traveled: 1884
Average speed: 6 miles per hour
Days spent traveling; 23
Overnight passages: 8 nights
Harbors where we encountered storms that were described as "unseasonable" or "very unusual": Astoria, Eureka, San Diego, Turtle Bay.
Wildlife highlights: Risso's dolphins in Monterey Bay; pilot whales off Bahia Magdalena; puffins off the Oregon Coast; tropical frigate birds off Cabo Falso.
Books heard via iPod by the mate on watch: 5 volumes in the Patrick O'Brian Master and Commander series.
Books heard via iPod by the Captain while on watch: 0 (He is definitely wiser, deeper, and more familiar with the stars as a result.)
Culinary highlights: Tomato and Corn Pie made from Farmer's Market in Astoria; fresh caught tuna in fruit salsa in Turtle Bay.

Will you still need me, will you still feed me....

2011-11-22T19:40:00.000-08:00

Early on Saturday morning, we reached the southern tip of the Baja Peninsula, and turned east, past Cabo San Lucas. By midday, we were anchored at Puerto Los Cabos, near San Jose del Cabo. Sunday was the Captain's birthday; even if he has reached the ripe old age of 64, he is still needed and worth feeding. His birthday brunch, at a farm based restaurant called Flora's Field Kitchen, included a wonderful cocktail made from Hibiscus grown on the farm.

We are very pleased to be finished with the long journey down the coast. We are spending our mornings hiking on the beach and in the estuary near San Jose del Cabo, and afternoons dealing with chores and provisions. But all of this is done in brilliant sun, gentle breezes, and a sense of Mexican homecoming.

Warm Water, Tropical Birds

2011-11-17T11:11:00.000-08:00

Finally, we have reached the Baja Mexico that haunts the winterbound Oregon imagination: brilliant sunshine, warm dry air, and water temperatures reading about seventy degrees. We are in beautiful Bahia Maria, a big, calm water anchorage sheltered from the Pacific by a mountainous peninsula called Punta Hughes. Just south of here is the entrance to the much larger Magdalena Bay.
We arrived in Bahia Maria in the mid afternoon yesterday after a thirty-one hour downwind passage, more than half of it under sail. We used every combination of downwind rig: spinnaker; wing on wing with the jib poled out; jib alone, and mainsail with a motor assist. So, even though this was a shorter passage than some we have made, we ended up bone-tired last night, and were asleep by 7:30.

Turtle Bay Shoreline

2011-11-13T12:23:00.001-08:00

We are still in Turtle Bay, having weathered rain and a fairly big blow yesterday and overnight. Enough rain fell to wash the decks and rigging free of the salt. Now the big power boats have departed to muscle into headwinds and big seas. Some of us sailors are waiting for the swell to die down, and for the wind to swing back into its usual northerly direction.
East of Turtle Bay there are a ranges of low mountains that boarder the great Vizcaino Desert. As the storm cleared, some rays of sun illuminated the mountains, while the clouds still brooded overhead. Wonderful Baja colors.

Mexico by Moonlight

2011-11-11T12:13:00.001-08:00

We are now in Bahia De Tortugas, about halfway down the Baja peninsula. Most of that distance we accomplished in a 285 mile passage over 48 hours - our longest passage to date. The two nights, although a wintery twelve hours long, were lit bright by the full moon. The photo above shows the full moon rising over the coast south of Ensenada at sunset. The days are anything but wintery, with bright sun and some good sailing winds, including hours on the spinnaker.

San Diego, Que Haceres

2011-11-04T21:28:00.000-07:00

There is a real storm passing through San Diego today. In the past hour we have had winds clocking to 35 knots in our Shelter Island moorage, and pelting rains. The temperature is a chill 58 degrees, more Portland than San Diego. Just exactly the kind of weather to spawn a rainbow with the first sun break.

We arrived in San Diego on October 26th in fog and generally gray conditions. Within hours, the fog abated, and we have had mostly brilliant sun and warm weather ever since. Great weather for....

chores? In Spanish, "que haceres", which you could translate "what to do". We had a long list of things to attend to - normal boat maintenance, some updates for this boat - now into it's seventh year of service, some new acquisitions to make the sailing life better. We figured we would only be able to accomplish a few of the things on our long list. Little did we know that San Diego's marine services industry would make (gulp) virtually anything possible.

So - new boat carpets. The crew shows up at 8:30 am to make patterns for the new carpet pieces. At 1:30 pm, they are back with nine odd-shaped pieces, perfectly cut and bound, and have them installed by 2:00. Engine service - can do (the Captain tries to get the mechanic sign on as crew). New mattresses - four days. Troubleshooting our aging dodger - no problem. Restitched with new plastic (strata glass) in a week. Wetsuits for the crew - accomplished in an hour, leaving time for a SoCal classic, the In and Out Burger.

Catalina Island

2011-10-25T22:20:00.000-07:00

More about Catalina Island. This photo shows 'Indigo' in Isthmus Cove, one of the Two Harbors that nearly cut the western end of the island in two. ('Indigo' is the boat at the bottom left.) Catalina is large - about 22 miles long, 75 square miles. Mountains rise to just over 2000 feet. Avalon, the famous tourist destination is at the east end of the Island, a little more than 26 miles from Los Angeles. Two Harbors, although a bit closer to LA, is less developed.

Still, this is a place that knows its tourist business. Every cove has well maintained permanent mooring buoys, and the Harbor Patrol will help you anchor and give you a lift ashore if you don't want to use your own dinghy. The water here is crystal clear, great for snorkeling (although too cold for us now at 56 degrees - we need wetsuits!). There are a few places to eat, a single hotel, some guest houses, and a big campground. Passenger boats come and go from Los Angeles frequently, with many visitors. They seem to disperse to rent kayaks, or stand-up paddle boards, or maybe they just turn around an go back to LA.

We chose to hike, and walked the dirt road that meanders from cove to headland - back and forth - for miles. The cursed fog lifted, and we were deliriously happy in the brilliant sun. There were an extraordinary number of birds, and great views from the headlands.

Among all the places we have visited on our two (all-to-brief) trips down the California coast, the Channel Islands are extraordinary. Californians know them, but maybe the rest of us do not. They are immense and critical sanctuaries for so many species. We were a bit reluctant to let loose the mooring and head for San Diego.

Mystery Bird

2011-10-22T10:22:00.001-07:00

We traveled from Ventura to Catalina Island yesterday, and had a number of small birds land on the boat. Most we could identify - Yellow-Rumped Warbler, California Towhee. But this little black fellow has us stumped. Anyone know what it is? Our best guess is a young Lark Bunting. It was 5 -6 inches long, and its feathers were scrufty and, naturally, windblown. There was the faintest hint of a light patch on its belly.

Hoping for some more informed opinion.

...Continuing South

2011-10-20T20:23:00.000-07:00

We made more progress south, and are writing this from Ventura. We've had lots of fog, but only take photos in the sun, so you have to imagine long periods of gray inbetween each of these sun-filled images.

The lighthouse above is at the entrance to the broad bay that acts as the anchorage for San Luis Obisbo (the actual town of San Luis Obisbo is much further inland.) We took this photo at the end of a long, sunny spinaker ride downwind from Morro Bay. We also enjoyed the afternoon and evening at anchor off the pier at Avila Beach, an pretty little beach resort, listening to the sounds of kids playing in the surf.

The following morning, we pulled up the anchor and headed south in the fog. Quite soon, this random traveler, a small Flicker, landed on our mast. He stayed with us for a fifty five mile run down and around Point Conception. This photo was taken when he first sniffed land as the fog cleared; he flew off to shore moments afterwords.

We went on to anchor at Coho Anchorage, just south and east of Point Conception. This was like a pilgrimage for us, since we had read for years about the early explorers and cartographers who had used this anchorage as a base of operations.

We were lucky to have this view of the shore alongside the Coho Anchoreage. Accounts from the mid nineteenth century talk about a large cattle ranch here, but now it is quiet. Except that the train - the Amtrak Coast Starlight - comes past this point a dozen times each day.

On Shore, Offshore

2011-10-15T18:32:00.000-07:00

Monday we traveled from Half Moon Bay to Monterey, the entire trip in the fog, and the second half of it sailing with the spinnaker. The fog lifted as we tied up in the harbour, and the sun shone steadily for the next two days.

We spent these sunny days on shore, visiting with our old friends Dennis and Catie, who have just moved to Pacific Grove, adjacent to Monterey. We toured, hiked, picnicked, and explored all along the coastline, from Monterey to Big Sur. We were dazzled by the scenery and by the great enthusiasm of our friends for their new home in their native California. Dennis was adamant that we stop and admire the Bixby Bridge along Highway 1, just north of Big Sur.

Thursday we finally persuaded ourselves to resume boat travel and left Monterey midday. Late in the afternoon, we passed the Bixby Bridge, and got a view of it from the oceanside. The O'Leary enthusiasm is infectious, and we were quite transfixed by this view of the coast from offshore. This photo is for you, Dennis!

Point Reyes

2011-10-10T17:42:00.001-07:00

We sailed 'Indigo' south from Eureka on Friday and Saturday - a boisterous thirty hour trip with favorable northwest winds and following seas. For much of the time, the wind was so strong that we could make good time on the jib alone. Clear skies gave us great views of the coast, and of the stars and moon overnight. This is the image of Bodega Head, the last headland before we ducked into Bodega Bay to spend the night on Saturday. I know that rocks and vegetation along these headlands make such incredible colors, on shore, but I had never seen areas of this ocean showing this purplish brown.

Sunday morning we continued south past Point Reyes and Drake's Bay, one of our favorite places along this coast. This is how it looked yesterday morning:

OK, this is an iPhone photo, but you get the idea. We were sorry not to be able to see this scenery. To remind myself of what we were missing, I dug out the file of the small painting I made after our first site of Point Reyes from the water:

From Point Reyes, we sailed in a straight line to Half Moon Bay, passing by the entrance to San Francisco Bay. The fog cleared, and we had a clear view of the shoreline north and south, and of the busy and confusing shipping traffic entering and exiting the Golden Gate. Now we are moored in Half Moon Bay, catching up on our sleep and cooking and interneting, while the rain and fog drip drum on the boat.

The Lost Coast

2011-10-03T16:46:00.000-07:00

The same friendly NOAA forecasters who explained to us about the Stratus Surge also told us about a pair of winter-type rainstorms that were coming our way. South winds and rain discourage southbound sailors. So we decided to take a break from the boat, and explore the coastline by land.

We decided to explore the Lost Coast. This is the sixty odd miles of the California coast south of Eureka which remains virtually undeveloped. There is no Highway 1 here; Highway 101 runs through the Redwoods, a good twenty to thirty miles inland, and only a few fairly primative roads provide access. The King Range has some of the tallest peaks along the California coast, and the mountains seem to push out into the ocean, as at Cape Mendocino (the westernmost point in the lower 48 states) and its neighbor Punta Gorda. The image above is the view south from the base of Cape Mendocino.

We drove the length of the area, through ranch land and forests, and then stayed for two nights at Shelter Cove, a resort and fishing community south of both the capes. The beaches here are at the base of massive cliffs, and are made up of black rock or black sand, a hint of the origin of the nearby mountains in volcanic activity. Under gray skies, with fog or rain, this is a somber place, awesome and very, very wild.

Stratus Surge

2011-10-01T14:59:00.000-07:00

Thursday morning we left Eureka, and crossed the bar at the entrance to Humboldt Bay by 9:30. It was a beautiful, unusually warm morning, with sunshine softened by the marine air, a low swell, and very light wind from the south. We motored south, confident that we would make it around Cape Mendocino by early afternoon.

Just before noon, we saw the wind build from about five knots to gusts up to 25 - all in the span of fifteen minutes. The Captain took over the watch at noon, and within another fifteen minutes, we were plowing into building seas and winds gusting to 35. Our speed was reduced drastically, and we began to take salt spray over the bow. We quickly decided that these were not conditions for rounding notoriously nasty Cape Mendocino, and that we would return to Eureka. With the wind behind us, we were able to sail comfortably on the jib alone, and were back at the dock in Eureka by late afternoon.

Several other sailboats experienced the same odd winds, and also returned to Eureka. It happens that there is a NOAA forecasting office a very short walk from the marina where we all moored. On Friday morning, a group of skunked sailors marched over to NOAA, and had a chance to sit down with one of the forecasters in front of his semicircle of four computer screens. This cordial weatherman told us that we had experienced what is known as a "Stratus Surge", and he was able to bring up the string of satellite images for the hours when it formed and hit us the day before.

The image above is of a similar event - this one along the southern California coast - and shows the funny finger-like leading edge of the thick stratus clouds.

Sensory Deprivation

2011-09-26T12:17:00.000-07:00

We made a thirty hour passage from the Charleston Harbor (near Coos Bay, Oregon) to Eureka California, with dense fog during the entire journey. It was an easy trip in other respects: relatively little wind, a quiet sea. But the overwhelmingly gray world played on our spirits, and left us feeling a little sad, a little bereft.

I have never tried to photograph the effect of fog when offshore, but the Japanese photographer Hiroshi Sugimoto made a practice of photographing seascapes all over the world with a large format camera; his photograph "Ligurian Sea, Saviore" gives some sense of what that monotone world is like.

On the other hand, once we arrived in Eureka, the fog cleared, and we were delighted with the bright sun, vivid color, and delightful fraqrances of Northern California. We once again rented a car and hiked in the wildlife refuges around the fringes of Humboldt Bay. After that spell of sensory deprivation, we were nearly giddy as we hiked the marches and beaches!

Offshore Stargazing

2011-09-22T10:32:00.000-07:00

Monday and Tuesday we made the thirty hour passage from Astoria to Coos Bay, Oregon. The seas were calm; the Pacific Ocean swell, although ever-present, was under six feet, and the boat motion was generally comfortable. And the sky - brilliantly clear! Although there was some fog now and then, for most of the night the stars and the waning crescent moon were bright and beautiful.

The mate, it seems, has spent most nights of her life asleep indoors, so she hasn't learned much about the stars. The Captain, on the other hand, spent many nights awake, but most of those in hospital corridors and operating rooms. But now we have a built-in opportunity to make up for lost star-gazing time. Long watches offshore, nothing much else to do, night vision clear since the navigation instruments and minimal belowdecks lighting are all shifted to nighttime red lights.

But it's damn hard to read a star chart on a boat that rocks in the swell. I started with the Pleiades and Orion, which even I can recognize (they show up above on the detail of the start chart I was using). Where do we go from there?

My next plan is to turn to my favorite book about the star, The Stars and How to See Them, by H.A. Rey. (Yes, he also wrote and illustrated the Curious George books). This is his illustration of Orion. I figure maybe I can learn to hop from Betelgeuse to Rigel and on across the sky from one bright star to the next.

Waiting Out the Storm

2011-09-18T22:14:00.000-07:00

After so many weeks of calm weather, the rain and wind that hit Astoria (and a much larger portion of the Pacific Northest) today was like a wake-up call. Autumn is here, and this may well be the classic 'Equinoctal Storm' - the first of the long series of storms bringing southeast winds and rain. It dictates that we delay our departure from Astoria.

Given that we are staying in Astoria, we made a visit to the farmers' market, where we found fresh corn, and a variety of fresh chilis that make it obvious that there is a robust Hispanic population here these days.

We had come from Portland with a largess of tomatoes from our friend Ron, whose love of tomatoes goes deep into his California youth. We bought a few fresh Poblano peppers from the market, along with some fresh corn, and returned to the boat. Still gray, still raining.

Combined all these ingredients to make a Tomato Corn Pie, with a Buttermilk Crust. Made a bloody awful mess, the kind of chaos that seems impossible, and then proves to produce wonderful food.

A Break from Boat Travel

2011-09-17T14:46:00.000-07:00

Indigo has been tied up in Astoria for a week, while the crew took a break from the boat. The mate traveled to Cascade Head, near Lincoln City on the Oregon Coast, and painted for four days around that remarkable headland. The painting above features one of the huge sitka spruce trees that grow there, with the dry, yellow grasses of the high seaside slopes in the background.

Meanwhile, the Captain solved a slew of small problems in Astoria. We met up in Portland, and had brief, but satisfying visits with family and friends.

Now we are both back on the boat, provisioning, cooking, and organizing in anticipation of the passages south. An early fall storm means we will wait until at least Monday to leave here, but we hope it won't be much longer.

Swell Kayaking

2011-09-04T17:08:00.000-07:00

Last two days in Barkley Sound - perfectly clear weather, hot sun, calm mornings. Perfect for paddling out to the edge of the islands to play in the ocean swell where it rises and falls among the kelp and rocks.
We head for Astoria in the morning.

Barkley Sound

2011-09-02T11:44:00.000-07:00

We have spent the past three weeks in Barkley Sound, which tops the list of our favorite places to "cruise". Cruising means some days under sail - whenever the wind blows, some days tied up in beautiful Ucluelet (pictured above) or wandering around the Long Beach Peninsula or Tofino.

But most days, we are at anchor, among the cluster of islands called the Broken Group. Given that it has been "Fogust", many mornings there is fog - sometimes dense and all encompassing, but more often drifting here and there. Wonderful effects occur when the fog begins to lift and the clear sky emerges

And then there are the evenings when we are occasionally treated to a sunset like this one, or to the full dark sky that lets us see the Milky Way. We'll spend a few more of these late summer days at anchor here, then head south for a stop in Oregon before we continue along to Mexico.

Orca Drive-by

2011-08-15T11:47:00.000-07:00

We had a close encounter while traveling yesterday that I can only describe in driving terms. We were proceeding south about three miles off the west coast of Vancouver Island (off Flores Island on our way into Clayquot Sound). The sky was gray, and the sea was almost calm, with just the mildest ocean swell; there was no wind, and we were motoring along at our regular 7 knots. We had seen many whales in the distance during the day, some we could identify as Humback whales, and others, closer into shore, that looked like Orcas, or Killer Whales. But nothing out of the ordinary.

Now here’s the driving analogy. In conditions like this, driving the boat is like driving on a stretch of highway through very large desert, at 7 miles an hour. The mate was at the helm (in the driver’s seat), and the captain sat facing the helm. We were chatting about something inane. All of a sudden, two orca whales surfaced just beyond the captain, at a distance of ten or fifteen feet. They were traveling the opposite direction, and it was as if they were in the next lane. The dorsal fin on the larger whale was probably six feet tall, and his back a beautiful black curve. Sort of as if a beautiful black Maserati were to appear next to your car without warning, as you were driving slowly through a very large, deserted desert…..

Always slow, the mate just gaped, speechless, and pointed, and gaped some more. The Captain finally turned to see the group – we think there were four – calmly surface, then submerge, then surface again as they continued their northward journey. There were several different fin forms, and several quite small Orcas, so we imagine this may have been a family group. The photo (not ours, but credited to a Tofino based whale watching boat: www.stubbs-island.com) does a good job of showing what we saw - only our whales were several lanes closer!

The Brooks Peninsula

2011-08-11T09:24:00.000-07:00

Indigo is making her way down the west coast of Vancouver Island. The largest obstacle to smooth sailing along this stretch is the Brooks Peninsula, which projects out about twenty miles from the otherwise rather steady northwest to southeast direction of travel. Solander Island, which sits off the western tip of the Brooks, records some of the highest winds in the Pacific Northwest. (Read what our favorite meteorologist has to say about Solander Island: http://cliffmass.blogspot.com/2011/03/nw-hurricane-and-secrets-of-solander.html) Rounding the Brooks Peninsula is a big deal, as the winds and waves pile up here, intensify, and generally make passage uncomfortable. We have done this three times before, always encountering fog, rough seas, and howling winds, and reaching safety south of the Peninsula bone tired.

This time we adopted the strategy of ducking into the anchorage that would make the journey as short as possible. We chose the Klaskish Inlet, which is one of the tiny coves at the very top of the chart. This was a magical place, entered through a passage no more than 30 feet wide between tall rocks, but then opening out into a calm bay at the mouth of a coastal river. This is what we saw looking back after we had departed - that little hole in the trees is the only sign that the passage exists!

Luckily, we had a clear, relatively still morning, and the winds, generally 10 to 15 knots higher than the surrounding area, were perfect for a comfortable sail around the Brooks Peninsula. Plus, on this clear day, we got a great look at Solander Island, its rocky sides and weather reporting stations. We sailed, mostly downwind, riding the mild swells, and reached our Bunsby Island anchorage (the islands show up at the bottom right hand side of the chart above) by noon. That was good luck.

This is It!

2011-08-04T10:57:00.000-07:00

This is what we were aiming for. This is the reason for packing away all the furniture, for moving onto the boat, for spending weeks sailing up the coast.

The picture shows a very low tide on a perfect sunny day (locals tell us it is just about the first of the summer) up at the north end of Vancouver Island. The tide has just begun to flood back in, and the Captain has found a tidal pool. The brightly lit water at the center of the photo is in a low spot; the rocks around it mean that the incoming tide is held back a little. What you can't see in the photo is the waterfall formed by the rising tide returning to the low pool.

This is an exciting discovery because just around the corner from here is the now abandoned Indian village of Mamalilaculla. This tidal pool would have provided great foraging for the First Nations People, who surely gathered shell fish from these rocks. Maybe they used the pool as a fish trap, spearing the fish who swam in and then were caught when the tide fell.

Maybe it's an exaggeration to say that this is the only reason for what we are doing. But a day of kayaking on sunlit water does give the illusion that the world makes sense.

April Point

2011-07-28T21:50:00.000-07:00

After six years traveling on Indigo, we have discovered that sailors develop irrational fondness for the various marinas and anchorages we encounter. We are currently tied up at April Point on Quadra Island. We are about two miles across the water from Campbell River, which is the largest town on this middle region of Vancouver Island. The water between Quadra Island and Campbell River is alive with fierce currents - flowing four knots north at the ebb tide, then turning and flowing just as strong at the flood. But here at the marina inside of April Point it is nearly always calm.

This marina is owned by the Oak Bay Group, a very large corporation which runs fishing lodges all up and down the BC coast. The April Point Lodge, which sits right at the edge of the swift water passage a half mile from here, is a busy destination for fishermen and tourists. But the marina is quieter, mostly because it is mainly occupied by huge yachts, which sit here with crew on board, waiting for owners and guests to arrive for the occasional visit. Some cruisers on small boats find this intimidating or offputting. We have adopted the opposite attitude, since this marina is in an incredibly beautiful location and is remarkably peaceful.

Thinking back, I wonder if our fondness for this place comes from our first visit. Fifteen years ago, we ducked into this marina when a storm was developing. The Captain was disabled by a back injury, and our son Sam and I were worried about getting him back home as quickly as possible. It was clear that we couldn't travel while the storm raged, and we were so grateful to be tied up in a place where we could all rest and feel safe. For whatever reason, I have always felt at home here since then.

Turn Point Again

2011-07-26T20:39:00.000-07:00

There have been blog posts here before about Turn Point (click here then scroll down to see all entries about Turn Point) . We hiked out to Turn Point on a sunny Friday morning, thinking it fitting that this beautiful spot overlooking the boundary waters that constitute the border between the US and Canada be our last stop before leaving the country. The BLM, the Coast Guard, and a non-profit support group are doing a great job of keeping the buildings here in good shape. This view looks through the forest at the roof of the Lightkeeper's Quarters and the waters of Boundary Pass beyond.

Since crossing into Canada, we have been moving quickly north and west, so that we are now on Quadra Island, about half way up Vancouver Island. We have had long stretches under sail, and some on the motor. When not on watch, I have been working on iPad paintings like this one. The little machine is wonderfully convenient for short spells of work. No water or solvent to spill if we hit rough seas!

Seattle Saga

2011-07-19T22:46:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Seattle last Wednesday. having covered 400 miles via water to reach a spot that is roughly 180 miles from Portland. Yes, it's the long way around. But, as always, we have a good time in Seattle, visiting old and new friends, and enjoying city delights.

We came to Seattle in order to have some boat work done. As is often the case, this took longer than anticipated. One by one, problems were solved - refrigeration, toilet, computer issues. One problem resisted all troubleshooting - our watermaker kept telling us it wasn't getting a satisfactory intake level. Every bit of the system was taken apart, examined, and put back together over the course of several days.

Coincidentally, these were days when the mate, who is superfluous to most of these repair efforts, had lots of time to paint. But every time I set out paints and paper, I was told I needed to move. Eventually I resorted to painting on the iPad, which takes up no room at all. The painting is shown above. The iPad really might be the ultimate portable studio!

In the end, it turned out that a thin disc of plastic, the size of a nickel, was caught in the intake for the watermaker. Of course, it was the last thing that was checked. So we got all the problems fixed, just took the long way around.

Disappointment to Flattery

2011-07-11T20:18:00.000-07:00

It sounds just like the chapter title in a romance novel. But, no, its the description of the passage from Astoria and Cape Disappointment, up along the Washington coast to it's northernmost point at Cape Flattery. This is the passage from the Columbia River up to the Strait of Juan de Fuca, and hence to the Inside Passage waters which extend from Puget Sound all the way to Alaska.

We started our trip on Sunday morning at Astoria, passing by Cape Disappointment as part of the fourteen mile trip out past the bar of the Columbia River. Then we motored north in the open ocean, with only the most distant views of vague land forms until Monday morning, as we approached Cape Flattery. This Cape marks the southern entrance to the Strait of Juan de Fuca, and this morning it was all shrouded in cloud and fog, as is often the case. In fact, although we have come close to Cape Flattery a dozen times, we have never seen it clearly.

But with some patience and a little deviation from course, we were able to creep close to the Cape and to Tatoosh Island, the rough bit of rock and island that makes up its most most extreme point. A nineteenth century lighthouse sits on the prow of the westernmost rock. It - like all the U.S. lighthouses - is long abandoned to remote control. But it does still sit proud among these amazing, storm sculpted rock cliffs.

Adios

2011-07-03T21:48:00.000-07:00

We are docked at St. Helens in the Columbia River, about twenty miles downriver from Portland, and poised to slip the lines and head downriver in the morning. We have a distant view of Mt. Hood at dusk, which we are using to say adios to Portland and our past eighteen months "at home". This is an embarrassment of riches: we have reveled in living in Portland, close to family, friends, and the riches of a city life. Especially wonderful has been the spaces and opportunities to work - studio space for the mate, and a part-time return to the medical community for the Captain.

And now we can return to an itinerant life on the boat. It's irresistible, although not entirely easy. We have spent most of the last month arranging, packing, and placing in storage most of our possessions. Tonight it is all accomplished, and we are entirely settled on the boat. Early Fourth of July fireworks are popping around us, and a very clear, midsummer sky is beginning to show stars. Tomorrow we will celebrate Independence Day as sailors who have slipped the lines.

It's a Book!

2011-03-19T13:46:00.000-07:00

As birth announcements go, this one is kind of late. The mate "gave birth" to this book in December, and reports that it was an unexpectedly moving experience.
This book is a log of our sixteen months on Indigo in 2008 and 2009. The pages were cut, preprinted with lines, and folded into folios before we left Portland. Then as we traveled, the mate made entries at odd intervals, illustrating these with the occasional sketch and thumbnail photos pasted in. Here are several sample pages:

Last fall the mate studied bookbinding techniques, and learned the steps to bind the pages together and encase them in a cover. It actually was kind of thrilling to see a stack of paper transformed into a physical book, to be able to flip through the pages and then thump it shut.

You can see more photos of the book, plus other bookarts projects and paintings done by the mate at this new site: http://www.sailingstudio.us/

If you have been thinking that it is about time for the crew of Indigo to get up and go again, you are thinking along the same lines we are. We anticipate casting off from Portland around the beginning of July.

Summer Paintings

2010-08-08T15:42:00.000-07:00

This is the first summer we have spent on land in six years, and the mate has been delighted with the opportunities to set up the easel on surfaces that are neither swinging at anchor or pitching in the swell. The painting above is a remembered image from the kitchen window at a Colorado family reunion. The one below is close to home, looking through the nearby shipyard to an urban landscape.

The Spring Freshet

2010-06-15T13:07:00.000-07:00

This past weekend we finally eased 'Indigo' out of her slip and traveled all of five miles or so to anchor at the mouth of the Gilbert River, where it flows out of Sauvie Island and into the Multnomah Channel. We were confident of having enough depth to tie up to the dock there because recent heavy rains had raised all the streams ten to twelve feet above normal. For three days, we used the boat as a home base, and made expeditions via kayak into the middle of Sauvie Island. Lots of this low-lying island were under water, and we paddled through groves of Ash Trees, eased over big patches of blackberry bushes, and took shortcuts that usually require portages. Along with everyone in Oregon, we rejoiced in finally having some sunny weather!

Spring Storms

2010-06-15T12:11:00.001-07:00

This April, May, and early June have been remarkable for the endlessstring of storms that have rolled off the Pacific Ocean. This spring weather pattern usually means clouds, wind, and rain stream up towards Portland from the southwest. The view from our current highrise camp provides a sweeping storm sky panorama. Thes are two in a series of cloud paintings done this spring.

At Home on the Water

2009-11-29T19:32:00.000-08:00

The crew of Indigo is taking an extended break from boat travel. Unexpectedly, we have washed up in temporary digs on the shore of the Willamette River in hometown Portland. Although we are most definitely land based, we have a daily dose of water as we overlook the sweep of the river south of downtown Portland.
I have scorned bloggers who go months without a post, but now I am one. We beg forgiveness. Since tying Indigo to the dock on Labor Day, we have been busy. We have moved into new digs, rearranged work and living spaces, seen our son Sam married to his entirely wonderful partner Kate, and renewed old friendships. The Captain has become the proud owner of one artificial knee, and the mate has resumed a schedule of painting in the studio, outdoors, and now from our 15th floor apartment.

A word about where we are living. As you can see from the photo above, the "South Waterfront" is an entirely new neighborhood, built on land that was previously industrial just south of downtown Portland. Our first Portland house, a hundred year old Victorian, was in an neighborhood a half mile from here, but infinitely further in concept. Our current neighborhood is entirely planned, and five highrises were mostly complete when the economy tanked. Adjustments were made, new construction put on hold, and some buildings intended to be sold as condos - like ours - were converted to apartments. This is a weird place, but oddly convenient for us: I bike or walk a mile to my studio at our son's house; the Captain walks four minutes to the aerial tram that takes him to work at the medical center. The same four minute walk takes us to the streetcar, which gets us downtown in a flash.

What I like best is that we live here on the 15th floor much like we did on the boat, watching the weather, the water, the sky, and the activity around us. We always have the binoculars at hand, and again see eagles, cormorants, herons, and gulls. Now the winter storms are beginning to sweep up from the south and west, and we have the sense that we know the oceans and patterns from which they come. Sunrise and moonrise demand our attention, and we are absorbed by the shift in color as the cottonwoods turn to gold with the onset of winter.

But - new place, new spectacles. Hummingbirds come constantly to the feeder on our fifteenth floor terrace. The odd Coast Guard or Police boat comes by, although we can never imagine why. The Fire Department saunters over and tests its hoses. Recreational boaters come by - rowing, sculling, kayaking, dragon boating, Polynesian canoeing, even a few paddling surf boarders. We relish the few bits of commercial boat traffic, and wonder why there isn't more. At some point the river traffic nearly died, and resuscitation hasn't yet been effective. Could we help breath a bit more life into this urban river landscape? Do we know something about waterfronts and boats and living marine landscapes?

Passage to Oregon

2009-09-03T22:08:00.000-07:00

Early on Tuesday morning, September 2nd, we left foggy Bamfield and rounded the lighthouse at Cape Beale in a rough, uncomfortable sea. From there, we set a course due south for the overnight passage to Astoria, Oregon. We've made this trip along the Washington coast six times now, and this passage was the easiest, maybe because it started out rough, and got more and more settled. For a few stretches, we had enough wind to use the sail to steady the boat in the ocean swell, but never enough to sail. So we were a motor boat, encountering clear skies by mid afternoon, and enjoying the light of the nearly-full moon until just before dawn. And, before nightfall on Tuesday, we reaped the reward for traveling twenty miles offshore in the Pacific Ocean - a great sunset.
Now we are in Astoria, about to head up the Columbia River to Oregon. Even the Captain, who, with a willing crew, would sail around the world, seems to enjoy the sense of homecoming we get when landing in Astoria.

Forty

2009-08-29T09:40:00.001-07:00

We celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary with a long paddle among the islands of Barkley Sounds Broken Group, and a picnic on the beach. We can't imagine how forty years can have passed. We wonder what we have learned. A few things:

You can't play a good game of scrabble without a big honking dictionary. Negotiation and compromise don't cut it.

Cooking and eating good food is a great glue in a marriage. As Greg Brown puts it: "When the kitchen is happy, love has a chance". Ditto for the galley.

Good luck and hard work are a great combination. So are downwind sailing and time to go slow.

Summer Symphony

2009-08-18T15:35:00.001-07:00

July: Andante.
Languid, hot days in the Gulf and San Juan Islands. Lazy hikes on headlands covered with grasses toasted golden. Lingering outdoors late into the evening. Downwind sailing even slowly entire days when sailing is a state of being, and destination is wherever.

Early August: Allegretto
Quick, foggy trip across the Strait of Juan de Fuca to Port Angeles. Brisk road trip to Portland. Frenetic hunt for a winter apartment. Lavish visiting, happy celebrations. Rapid return to the boat. Intense radar and radio, fogbound passage to Barkley Sound. A few rainy days and transition to cruising speed.

Mid August: Andante cantabile.
Sunshine sparkles on rocks and water, warms and dries us in Barkley Sound. Spinnaker sailing. Beach hiking. Herring and salmon jumping; whales splashing. Moon dark sky with endless stars and galaxies and clusters.
(New photos loaded on Flickr are available here)

Backing Down

2009-07-21T21:11:00.001-07:00

Gray dawn early last Tuesday we rousted ourselves to sail around the north end of Vancouver Island. First, though, we listened to the latest weather report, which had been revised and predicted strong southerlies for days in the future, very unfavorable for rounding Cape Scott and the Brooks Peninsula. As he is prone to do, the Captain mumbled something about the wind always blowing in our faces. Something in the mate snapped - I said, OK, let's just sail downwind. We could ride the northwest wind, still strong on the east side of the island, back down the way we came, with the added bonus of a return to the warm waters at the north end of the Georgia Strait.
So we backed down, a move with a spectacular payoff. We had two long Spinnaker runs coming down the Johnstone Strait, a wonderfully quiet and comfortable way to sail, and perfect sunny weather to boost. Since then we have had five more warm and sunny days, with fine sailing each day, and afternoons back to the shorts and barefeet we enjoyed in Mexico.

Fog

2009-07-13T10:47:00.000-07:00

We have reached the north end of Vancouver Island, where we have encountered fog, rain, and cool temperatures. After an astonishingly sunny and warm May and June, this is not cause for complaint. But it does make things feel quieter, make one more contemplative. After traveling in a fog whiteout for an hour or two, the appearance of a shoreline seems miraculous. Sensory deprivation whets the appetite, and the fading in and out of elements of scenery have a hypnotic effect. I think about how I might paint the trees in fog, and imagine layers and layers of thin, transparent oil paint.

But when the fog lifts, it's back to excitement and high spirits. Chores and repairs are almost done. Time to round Cape Scott and head down the west coast!

Malaspina Galleries

2009-06-30T21:25:00.001-07:00

We have been staying at the docks in Nanaimo for several days, hoping that a very strong and persistent northwest wind will die down, allowing us to make headway in a northerly direction. Yesterday Linnea, a friend we made in Mexico who is a Nanaimo resident, entertained us by taking us across to Gabriola Island, the furthest north of the Gulf Islands. The last stop on our explorations were the rock formations called the Malaspina Galleries. The photo above shows the Captain just at the entrance to the Galleries.

The Galleries proper are sculpted limestone, so eroded by wave action that they overhang, looking like waves themselves. They were observed by the very first Spanish explorers to visit these islands. Their expedition in 1792 was led by Galiano and Valdez. The Galleries were named after Malaspina, the commander who had ordered their journey. Jose Cardero, who was the ship's artist, sketched the rock formation. Later, back in Spain, his sketches were reworked and much exaggerated for a report on the expedition, hence the black and white image above.

In the 1920's E.J. Hughes, a young local artist, won a commission to paint murals for a new resort in Nanaimo called the Malaspina Hotel. The scene of the Spanish viewing and sketching the Galleries was one of the subjects chosen. That mural has recently been heroically restored and installed at the Nanaimo convention center. Last evening at sunset it was easy to understand how these rock galleries, in their wild and beautiful location, continue to capture the imagination.

Up Close

2009-06-29T10:05:00.001-07:00

Several weeks now of mostly warm, sunny weather. Much of our time spent on the deck or in the kayaks, in the protected waters of the San Juan and Canadian Gulf Islands.

Mid-June brought super low tides, exposing sea critters like these starfish. Indigo managed to find an uncharted rock in Blind Bay on Shaw Island, and held tight for an hour or so until the tide came back in. The first time she has run aground.

The season of the wild roses is almost past, but now is the very fleeting flowering of Ocean Spray. These clusters of tiny flowers are white for only two days or so, then they turn brownish. Maybe that's the reason for the name - what could be more fleeting than the white spray blowing off a wave on a windy day?

Coming Unraveled

2009-06-24T16:29:00.001-07:00

No matter how meticulously maintained, every new boat will eventually show its age. The teak will get dull gray, the hull scuffed and dirty. And the pristine, perfectly ordered wiring, hidden for the early life of the boat behind cushions and panels, will have to be exposed and reworked. After five years, Indigo has come to that point. In Mexico several months ago our inverter, which converted power from the batteries into regular 120 volt "plug in" electricity, failed. Now we are having a replacement installed, and the Captain and the energetic and good-natured guys at the boatyard in Anacortes have spent hours teasing out the secrets of how the boat is wired.

A project like this turns ordinarily shipshape Indigo into a disaster area. Innumerable access panels are unscrewed and much of the floor is lifted. Buckets of tools and parts are scattered everywhere; one or two male humans are squeezed or contorted into small spaces as they troubleshoot and eventually complete installing the new inverter. Success! Gradually order is restored, the floor and many panels put back into place. The boatyard guys go home, and we sit down to a late dinner. But what's this - now the stereo doesn't work! A project for tomorrow.

Sailing in Circles

2009-06-22T10:24:00.000-07:00

For the past month we have been sailing in circles, but not entirely aimlessly. Instead we have been stopping here and there in the San Juan and Canadian Gulf Islands, in Sidney on Vancouver Island and Port Townsend at the mouth of Puget Sound, with the express purpose of visiting with family and friends. The choice protected anchorages are relatively unpopulated during this early summertime - places like Garrison Bay on San Juan Island (shown above, with "Indigo" in the center of the photo) offer great hiking on shore and good kayaking amongst the islands and passages. The weather has been unusually warm and sunny, and there have been plenty of good days for "messing around in boats"

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After a brief stop for boatwork in Anacortes, we will straighten out our act, and resume expeditionary mode by heading resolutely north and then around the West Coast of Vancouver Island.

Currents

2009-06-02T22:25:00.000-07:00

The moment we left the harbor in Nanaimo, we noticed that the water sounded different than it did in Mexico. For one thing, the water in the Sea of Cortez is quite saline, hence a bit "thicker". But more important is the current. While there are only mild currents in the Sea of Cortez, the waters around Vancouver Island burble and swirl with strong currents, especially during the new moon and the full moon. Prudent, sensible sailors (like us) plan passages to take advantage of favorable currents. Even so, there are still moments like the one photographed above, when whirlpools and tide rips push and pull the boat first one way, then another. Fortunately, 'Indigo' is large enough and has enough engine power to buck most currents.

We really experience the currents viscerally in the kayaks. We figure we can paddle at a speed of five to seven knots, at least for a short burst, so crossing or paddling against a current of 2 knots is OK for a short distance, but it can be exciting, and the moving water is always noisy. A bonus is that the plants and animals that live where the current is strong are much more varied, more plentiful and more interesting - kelp, anenomes, starfish.

Around some tiny offshore rocks this past week we encountered Harlequin Ducks bobbing in the swirling tidal streams. These birds love fast moving water: they breed and raise their young in the rapids in mountain rivers. Once the females are on the nest, the males come down to the coast, so this time of year we see them in large groups. You know - "the guys" - hanging out at the beach, riding the rapids.

Changing the palatte

2009-05-21T14:04:00.000-07:00

On May 2, we flew out of sunny, hot La Paz, landing late in the evening in Vancouver, BC. We went to sleep in the airport hotel, and woke very early to this vista, painted in a palatte of gray and green that had become entirely unfamiliar. We rented a car and drove down to Portland, stunned by florescent yellow green of the spring foliage and the wealth of flowering trees and shrubs. We visited with friends in Seattle and Portland, and began to readjust to living, shopping, and doing business in the land of unlimited choice.

We also made a trip to the Oregon Coast and were fascinated by the beaches and vistas on this rugged stretch, especially impressive for having seen it from the distance of ten miles out in the ocean.

Early on the cold, rainy morning of May 13th, we were in Nanaimo, British Columbia, to meet up with the Dockwise ship, and reclaim 'Indigo'. The photo shows the Captain amidst the boats on the ship while it is still dry. Shortly thereafter, we all climbed ladders to get back on our boats, and waited for some long, chilly hours while the rear of the ship gradually filled with water and we were able to sail away.

Over the week since then, we have cleaned up and reprovisioned the boat, and reorganized ourselves for travel in the Pacific Northwest. We are reveling in the beautiful, still evenings and the dusk that lasts until nearly ten; in the astonishingly fresh and varied produce in the stores; and in the routine of sauna and piles of quilts to ward off the overnight cold. I guess we must be home.

A New Experience

2009-05-02T08:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we left La Paz along with half a dozen other sailboats, and motored the ten miles to Bahia Falsa, where we encountered this odd looking ship, called the Super Servant Three. In the photo, taken looking at the bow, you can see that the ship is low in the water. It's stern portion, which is like two long docks (thus the shipping company's name, "Dockwise"),is opened up and nearly submerged, so that boats can sail in and out. In all, fourteen boats gathered, waiting to load. We circled near the stern of the ship, and one by one the Super Servant's Load Master called us on the VHF radio and gave us instructions to come in.

Once we were alongside the "dock", the ship's crew helped tie us up and secure each boat to the ship's framework with various ropes and straps. It was slightly eerie to encounter this crew: all tall, strong young men in orange jumpsuits, and all speaking Russian. But communication was accomplished, and quite soon we locked Indigo's hatch, and boarded a launch back to La Paz.

Through the afternoon and evening, while we were sipping Margaritas, a gang of divers worked underwater to set up cribs and stands to support all the boats. Probably about the time we were eating dinner, the Super Servant's crew closed the two rear portions of the ship (thus creating a watertight stern), and proceeded to raise the entire ship by pumping out the water where the boats floated. Once the water was out, as we were sleeping soundly, a gang of welders constructed metal cradles to support each boat, and welded the cradles to the deck. About now, as we finish up our breakfast, the Super Servant is leaving Bahia Falsa for the trip to Nanaimo in British Columbia.

This is a new experience for us in many ways. For one, we have become part of a fleet, as we have gotten to know the other boats which were loading on the Dockwise ship. Maybe this is what it is like to belong to a Yacht Club. For another, we've given over the care of 'Indigo' to someone else. We are very glad that we won't be responsible for every one of the 2200 miles of upwind sailing between here and British Columbia. I think we'll take a walk and think about the Super Servant rounding the tip of Baja California!

Returning

2009-04-29T18:35:00.001-07:00

This week we are tied up again in Marina de La Paz, readying 'Indigo' and ourselves for a return to the Pacific Northwest. But our return journey won't make a perfect closed loop, but maybe something like the odd spiral imprint made by shells on rocks in the Sea of Cortez.

On Friday, we will sail a few miles north to the port of La Paz and load 'Indigo' onto a large yacht transport ship. We promise to post photos of this interesting loading operation. On Saturday, this crew of two will fly to Vancouver. We hope to then make a short driving trip down to Portland, and return north to Nanaimo, British Columbia, in order to meet meet the transport ship around May 11th. Once reunited with 'Indigo' we hope to spend the summer sailing in the Pacific Northwest before a fall return to Portland for a long spell on land.

Meanwhile, here in La Paz, as in all of Mexic0, schools, museums, and libraries are closed because of the swine flu scare, and many people are wearing protective masks. Baja California is very removed from the rest of Mexico, and there are, as yet, no reported cases of the flu here. Yet the streets are inordinately quiet, and we wonder if we will have difficulty leaving Mexico or entering Canada or the United States. What an odd twist to our return journey, and what a contrast to our oblivious travels of the past few months.

Villages by the Sea

2009-04-25T13:26:00.001-07:00

All along the shores of the Sea of Cortez, there are fishermen working out of camps on shore, minimal shelter to clean and pack their catch and give them a place to cook for themselves and sleep. But in the stretch of islands and bays between LaPaz and Loreto, there are a number of year round villages where families live permanently. Many - like the little settlement called Nopolo shown above - can only be reached by boat. I am fascinated by the life style, by their arrangements for getting the basic things they need, but most of all by the way the small concentrations of man built structures cling to the rocks, and are dwarfed by the surrounding mountains.

Maybe the most dramatic of these villages is on Coyote Island, an abrupt rock wedge of less than an acre. Is the unlikeliest place imaginable for a village. It is eight miles from the nearest settlement, and many hours from the nearest paved road, but in the midst of wonderful fishing grounds. A few dozen people live here year round. When we kayaked to Coyote Island a few days ago, men and women were cleaning fish on the beach, and up the hill another woman was cooking the local dish called Machaca from freshly caught Manta Ray.

2009-04-22T13:05:00.000-07:00

We are in the last week of our travels in the Sea of Cortez, heading slowly south. We've now reached Isla San Francisco. Yesterday we ran out of orange juice, and cooked the last of the meat. Today we put the last of the beer in the refrigerator. The weather has been wonderful - hot and clear during the day, with bright stars at night.

We have been watching the Magnificent Frigatebirds circle over our boat since we first entered Mexican waters. They are big birds and they have a greater wingspan (upwards of 7-8 feet) in proportion to their weight than any other bird. But because they fly so high, and because there is a striking angular shape to their wings, they seem like calligraphic marks in the sky. I have been trying to photograph them, to see if I could capture the sense of their slow loops above a bay. Maybe it requires the drama of movement, or maybe I just haven’t gotten the right photo, but I haven’t yet done them justice.

Elefante over Los Gigantes

2009-04-16T07:30:00.000-07:00

We woke up yesterday morning to this sunrise view of a cloud bank capping the range of mountains known as Los Gigantes. The Baja Peninsula, although mountainous, is so narrow that occasionally strong winds on the Pacific side seem to spill over into the Sea of Cortez. Occasionally this causes strange cloud formations known as Elefantes, because they look like the trunks of elephants. Although this may not have been a real Elefante, we did have a great west wind for sailing south, and we are now back in beautiful Agua Verde.

Books

2009-04-13T12:53:00.000-07:00

The longer we stay on the boat, the more we read. It is now almost six months since we left the U.S. – a long time since we could choose from a large selection of books in English. We’ve had some wonderful books brought to us by friends and family, but we have read through nearly all of those. When we have energy and focus, we still have the heavy reading: Tolstoy, Octavio Paz, some dense histories, and books in Spanish to work through. But for light reading we are now dependent on Book Exchanges.

Informal book exchanges exist at nearly every port where cruising boats congregate. They are located in cafes, laundromats, marina offices, or clubhouses. They consist of impossibly random collections of the books that previous travelers have left behind. Naturally, they are heavy on pulp fiction, the best sellers, which occupy the greater portion of shelf space. But amongst the common, there are the rare gems, which provides the adventurous sailor/reader a chance to dip into an author or a subject which would never be considered in the land of unlimited choice. It is strange to pick up a book that is dusty, even grimy, and totally unknown, take it back to the boat, and discover a wonderful story in the slightly moldy, foxed pages. It is one of the lessons learned from travel - be open to odd serendipity.

Around Loreto

2009-04-11T12:36:00.000-07:00

We’ve spent the last week exploring the islands in Loreto Bay. We climbed the volcanic peak on Isla Coronado (the photo above shows the Captain on the lava flow next to one of the odd trees called the Elephant Tree), watched the moon each evening as it passed through the full moon phase, and weathered several nights at anchor when a weird west wind blew up and created uncomfortable swell. Because it is Semana Santa – the week leading up to Easter – it is a holiday for many Mexicans, and there have been lots of boats out, many with big, boisterous family groups. We thoroughly enjoy sharing the beaches, especially when there are kids around.

Aside from the great and varied island anchorages, we like this area now that we have perfected the provisioning stop in Loreto. We have twice had luck on calm mornings anchoring off the small harbor there, and taking the dinghy into the shallow waters and the pier. It’s an easy walk to several shops and the supermarket. In less than two hours we can be back on the boat with fresh produce and everything else we need for another few weeks of cruising. It’s like a raid on Loreto, except that we are perfectly well behaved.

2009-04-08T12:34:00.000-07:00

I am reluctant to confess how much time we spend watching birds, imagining that people will think we have nothing better to do. But it's a great variety show, with pelicans swooping and diving into the water, osprey chittering back and forth at each other, and at us, while the frigate birds glide silently overhead. Sometimes there is even a close encounter...

We are now moving back south down the sea of Cortez, and are currently anchored off the small volcanic island called Isla Coronados. Last evening we went ashore for a stroll along the beach on a isolated spit of land. But the minute we stepped ashore, the gulls began a mad squawking, and they were slow to yield space. Ignoring them, we began exploring the beach and dunes. The gulls increased their racket, and began to fly at our heads. Just then, the Captain discovered one perfect gull egg in a nest. I kept my hat on while I took a quick photo, then we escaped.

The other bird news is that there are hundreds of Eared Grebes around here, and they are currently hanging out in very tightly packed rafts, like a solid brown patch on the water. Both males and females are getting their breeding plumage, which includes a bright tuft of yellow and red feathers on each side of their heads. We wonder if they are getting ready to fly north. I wish a proper bird expert would read this and tell us, but then a proper bird expert would probably have something better to do!

Crossing Over and Back

2009-03-31T09:29:00.000-07:00

This messages comes from the middle of the Sea of Cortez. We are crossing back to Baja after a short trip to Guaymas and San Carlos on the mainland side. We explored the San Carlos area a little, traveled to Guaymas to get some additional groceries, and sailed thirty miles north on the mainland coast to anchor for several nights at the pretty Bahia San Pedro, where all the rolling swell from the entire Sea of Cortez seems to concentrate itself at night. Despite its spectacular rocky shoreline, the charms of San Carlos mostly eluded us. Maybe because the only other time we had been there was exactly 40 years ago. As college seniors on a spring break escapade, we camped on the beach, and the deserted Mexican coast seemed to go on forever undisturbed. Obviously lots has changed since then, but what has grown up is a weak hybrid, neither very Mexican or entirely North American.
Fortunately, we are recovering our good spirits with some good sailing. Today we have an excellent Northwest wind of about 15 knots, giving us a perfect sail across the sea. That's the Captain in the photo, taken a few days ago sailing wing on wing with a following wind, and munching on a chicken and bean burrito. We are on our way back to the quiet of relatively undeveloped Bahia Concepcion.

Pinturas Rupestres

2009-03-27T17:48:00.000-07:00

With the boat safely tied up in Santa Rosalía, Indigo's two-man crew caught a bus last week to travel forty miles south to the village of Mulegé, where we met up with a guide in order to visit the painted cliffs in the nearby Guadalupe Mountains.
There are hundreds of sites of prehistoric rock paintings in this central area of Baja California. Further north, there are caves with displays so tall and wide that they are called murals. Although there are some similarities between the art in all regions, there are variations that continue to challenge interpretation. What is constant among all the rock painting sites is that there are very few artifacts or traces left from the civilization that created the art. Dates suggested for the paintings range from 7000 B.C. to 1000 A.D.

The other commonality among the sites is that they are very remote. To reach the paintings near Mulejé, we drove for an hour up a sandy wash into the Sierra, hiked and scrambled over rocks for another hour, then hiked and swam through a narrow river canyon. The paintings we encountered were not murals, but individual paintings, often layered one over the other, as if they were painted at different times. The "Trinidad Deer" shown above is one of the best preserved paintings. Besides game, these painters certainly treasured the fish they took from the Sea of Cortes, about fifteen miles distant from this cave.

If you are interested in seeing more of these paintings, click on the link on the right hand bar which reads "Photos from Indigo's Travels".

Company Towns

2009-03-22T10:20:00.000-07:00

Our travels up the Sea of Cortez have brought us to the town of Santa Rosalía, which looks and feels different from any other place we have visited in Baja. Santa Rosalía was a center of copper mining and smelting in the late 19th and early 20th century, an operation owned for most of that time by a French corporation. Nearly all the buildings in the town are constructed of wood shipped here from the Pacific Northwest. The simpler buildings look like something out of any old Western town in the states; more elaborate buildings have balconies, verandas, tall windows, and other details that show the French influence.

The most famous building in town is the little church made of sheet metal (shown above), which was designed by and fabricated for Gustave Eiffel, who hoped it would be a prototype for French mission churches in remote, tropical locations. Although the design won a prize at the 1889 Paris World Exposition (where the Eiffel Tower was also featured), the idea of a prefabicated metal church didn't catch on, and the owner of the mining company bought the pieces and brought them to Santa Rosalía, where they were reassembled. It's a surprisingly pleasing structure, with handsome detail pressed into the metal cladding.

But French influence aside, Santa Rosalía reminds us of company towns we have encountered in our travels - from Ocean Falls in remote British Columbia to Samoa on the shores of Humboldt Bay in Northern California (both pulp mill towns); from Butte, Montana to Bisbee, Arizona (mining towns). These places get built up and organized and inhabited with great energy and investment, and they develop an air of purpose and prosperity. Then the timber or the ore on which they depended gets used up, and jobs disappear, leaving only the shell of the purposeful operation.

Santa Rosalía has survived well, and the town is still energetic and densely populated. Every tiny wooden cottage seems to be inhabited, and bursts with flowers, as if the small graceful French details inspire a different aesthetic than is found in most small Baja towns. Best of all, there is still a French bakery, with baguettes fresh every morning.

Isla Carmen

2009-03-12T08:54:00.000-07:00

We are anchored in Puerto Ballandra on Isla Carmen, about eight miles off the town of Loreto. This is a large island, and the hiking inland is wonderful. There is more vegetation than we have seen in other places in Baja, signs that there is a little more rain. On a long hike we encountered a fair number of plants in bloom, including the Passion Flower in the photo. We've seen brightly colored birds - cardinals and orioles, plus large white winged doves. A great place to stretch your legs and drink
in the exotic.

Agua Verde, Puerto Escondito

2009-03-10T09:26:00.000-07:00

At anchor or underway along this section of the Baja coast, we are always at the base of amazing mountains, rising up very steeply, rugged, dry, seeningly unapproachable. They make everything else - snorkeling, sailing, visiting with other sailors, hiking - seem inconsequential. The less said the better.

On the Move Again

2009-03-02T13:58:00.000-08:00

We have left La Paz behind, and are heading north for several months of exploration in the Sea of Cortez. It seems unlikely that we will have real internet access, but we will continue to post to the blog via the single sideband radio. We will also update our location, so you can check on the link on the right side of the blog that reads "Indigo's Recent Locations".
We have come about forty miles north, back to a favorite anchorage at Isla San Francisco. Today we had calm water in the morning, and were able to kayak around the island. Highlights included a Manta Ray with a 4-5 foot wingspan leaping twice from the water a few yards from our kayaks, and the largest Osprey nest we have ever seen, populated by two splendid osprey. The sky is virtually always clear, and the weather here varies mostly in terms of how much of the cool northerly wind is blowing. It
is a win-win situation: a hot, hot sun and a calm sea or a rough sea with great sailing and cool air. We are bearing up very well under the strain.

The Sign as Art

2009-02-24T12:23:00.000-08:00

We are just finishing up two fine weeks in La Paz, and the city is celebrating Carnival, with music, parades, carnival rides, and general chaos along the waterfront. If I was more of a crowd enthusiast, I would post photos of the bright costumes and gaudy carnival vendors. Instead, I am indulging in my latest passion: the hand lettered signs that adorn the buildings in La Paz. It is a great tradition, a successful marriage of building and signage, and, I am afraid, a dying art.

Virtually every building here is constructed of concrete, which is then covered with plaster and painted. The surface becomes a blank canvas, until the sign painter arrives and begins adding the information that identifies the business - it's name, what it offers for sale, the hours of operation. The sign above apprears on one of La Paz's busiest tortilla factories.

At their best, the signs accentuate the architecture of the building, like this one on the butcher shop we have adopted as our own. Sadly, most new businesses around here sport computer generated signs, printed on plastic with muddy colors and cluttered with graphics and words in a jumble. Once hung, they block out any architectural detail, are difficult to read, and tend to make one business look like any other.

So the occasional encounter with well done traditional lettering is especially impressive. It is a reminder that letter forms and the careful use of other ornaments of calligraphy can have a graphic impact far beyond the message they deliver - a strong argument for simplicity in design. How could you possibly say "eats and sweets" with greater elegance?

Still, the Mexicans excel in color extravaganzas, and I admire places where they have gone overboard with color in the letteringand still managed to get their message across. I'm hoping this great tradition won't disappear altogether.

Las Islas

2009-02-10T08:07:00.000-08:00

We spent the past two weeks among the islands, ranging as far as Isla San Jose, forty miles north of La Paz. The shore of the Baja Peninsula in this area rises steeply into a range of mountains called Los Gigantes. The photo above shows the tiny fishing village of San Evaristo at the foot of one of these mountain peaks.

Mountains and islands both provided plenty of opportunities for hiking and exploring on land. We made many attempts to climb, but never got as high as we wanted to go - frustrated by the steep slopes covered with loose rocks, and by the fact that we can no longer dance from rock to rock like young goats. But we got some great bird's eye views none the less, like this one of Isla San Francisco.

We also found opportunity for exploring in the water. On Isla San Jose, at Bajia de Amortajada, we explored a maze of mangroves in the dinghy We saw a host of egrets and herons. The most amusing was this Reddish Egret, which did some strange jumping and dancing moves in the shallow water to scare up fish for his brunch.
Exploring the tide pools on Isla San Francisco, we found we could creep up and catch a good look at the Blue Crabs, which are both beautiful to look at and good to eat.

This was certainly the longest unbroken stretch of sunny, warm weather we have ever spent on 'Indigo'. Midday it was desert rat hot, but mornings and evenings were cool. The star show overnight was awesome, and the vistas created by the colored bands of rock in the mountains and islands were endlessly impressive. Along about the tenth day, we began to feel almost - spiritual? Then along came this sunset, which just plain left us speechless.

San Antonio

2009-01-24T07:59:00.000-08:00

Last Sunday we visited San Antonio, a small town in the mountains near La Paz, once a much larger center of gold and silver mining. Many of the oldest buildings were open for touring as a part of a fund raising effort. It was especially interesting to move through the dark, cool interior rooms and then out into the courtyard gardens around which the houses are built. Interior and exterior space merge in many ways; the use of space is perhaps much more a factor of shade and shadow.

And of course as always in Mexico, color brings alive even the most mundane details. The modern palette has vivid colors; in this almost forgotten, faded place, the colors were much softer and quieter.

San Antonio sits on the lower slopes of the Sierra de la Laguna, and consequently recieves a bit more rain than La Paz. There are particularly rich stands of vegetation, and one nearby place is fenced and set aside as a Cactus Sanctuary, where we saw some wierd and wild prickly plants.

Peppers and New Photos

2009-01-17T16:05:00.000-08:00

Shopping for food here in La Paz provides an opportunity to try out new recipes. We're trying to understand the characteristics of all the various chilis. Our current favorite, and the chile most easily found here, is the Poblano. Our best new recipe is a Corn and Poblano Chowder.
We have posted lots of photos to a Flickr page. Click on the link to the right of this page that reads "Photos from Indigo's Travels". There is some significant family news included in these photos....

Leaping Manta Rays

2009-01-09T15:40:00.000-08:00

It's true - leaping Manta Rays. On video, actually. But first, let's put this in context. We returned to La Paz yesterday after a week spent traveling with our son Sam and his lovely Kate in the mountains and then on the boat in the islands north of here. It was a great visit, and we were sad to see them leave for home today.

We had all kinds of weather - some calm and sunny and hot; some downwind sailing in near gale force winds, a few mellow hours sailing with the spinaker. There was some great hiking, including this ridge walk on Isla San Francisco.

Sam and Kate explored the anchorages by dinghy and kayak, finding that the water temperatures are cooler now. We all cooked and ate like kings - the chicken with guajillo chili sauce is getting better, and Sam and Kate introduced us to an amazing pasta dish. There were many scrabble games, and the Captain and I learned that loosing to Sam and Kate was made easier by shots of tequila.

The wildlife highspot of the trip came when we were anchored in Caleta Partida at the north end of Isla Espiritu Santo. We had seen a few odd creatures jumping out of the water, and had guessed they were some sort of ray. Late one afternoon, we heard quite alot of slapping and splashing, and found that our boat was surrounded by at least a half dozen rays, and that they were leaping three to five feet out of the water.

We still don't know why they were jumping, but we were able to see them well enough to identify them as Manta Rays. Friends Steven and Darusha, shown here on their sailing vessel 'Scream', took this video (click here to view the video) of the rays around Indigo.

La Paz in a Norther

2008-12-27T15:46:00.000-08:00

We are enjoying our first weekend in La Paz, and our first opportunity to really explore the city. Coincidentally, La Paz is experiencing a Norther, a strong wind that arises with high pressure in the intermountain west of the US, and gains strength as it is funneled down through the Sea of Cortez. The wind here in the marina is gusting up into the low twenties, and we are rocking a bit. The many boats anchored out in the harbor are getting tossed around by the everchanging dance of wind and strong current. The temperatures are also a bit cooler, but no Oregonian could complain about temperatures of 75 degrees between Christmas and New Years. The Captain is laid up with a sore knee, and we are streaming the blues live from KPLU in Tacoma - always grateful to John Kessler, Blues DJ extraordinaire.
Christmas morning in La Paz was quiet, and we paddled the kayaks around the inner bay and along the mangroves on the low sandbar, known as the Magote, that encloses the inner harbor here. We saw this fine Ibis there.

Sierra de la Laguna

2008-12-21T19:44:00.001-08:00

We have just returned to La Paz and the boat after a weekend exploring the edges of the Sierra de la Laguna, the mountains that create the central spine of the tip of Baja California. We had driven around these mountains, which straddle the Tropic of Cancer, on a recent weekend road trip, and were interested. The mountains rise to over 7000 feet, get more rain than the surrounding desert, and have been declared a Biosphere Preserve. We read about the wide variety of plants that flourish here, and about palm trees, waterfalls, and trails.

With help from Linnea and Carlos, both acquaintances from school, we found all of the above - beautiful rivers and waterfalls, trails, and an amazing variety of green trees and shrubs. Since the peninsula is only about forty miles wide here, views from the mountains lead right to the ocean. We were able to swim in the river, and hike among beautiful rocks.
It is the winter solstice. Our friend, Jane Kyle, wrote to us from Portland, saying that they understand the solstice sun is directly over the Tropic of Cancer*, and asking if they could please have it back. Portland is buried in ten inches of snow; our son Sam has been skiing down the steep streets around the corner from his house. No, amigos, we cannot send you the sun, but we do send you our love.

*Sailing friends, who have the big picture clearly in mind, point out that the solstice sun is over the Tropic of Capricorn, way down south of the equator. Even here in Mexico, the sun is low in the sky. Regardless, we can only send our wishes for better weather to friends and family in the Pacific Northwest.

Posadas, Pinatas, Pangas and Possibilities.....

2008-12-19T19:13:00.000-08:00

December in La Paz has been anything but quiet. We have attended Spanish Class for four hours Monday through Friday, and filled the rest of the daylight hours with exploring this small city, shopping, cooking, and chores. The evenings go just as quickly, with Christmas lights in the cockpit, Spanish songs, and culinary experiments with chilis, tomatillos, and unfamiliar vegetables. Daily we make only tiny gains in our ability to speak Spanish, although it seems as if we can read and understand more easily.

December celebrations in La Paz have made the long winter evenings a festival of lights. Early December brought the celebrations for the Festival of the Virgin of Guadalupe, with dozens of small parades. Now we are embarked on a string of Christmas parties, called Posadas, that feature great food, and high spirits. The Pinata, stuffed with candy and other prizes, is an essential feature of each Posada, with blindfolded guests taking turns trying to hit and break open the Pinata.

We had a wonderful break from this routine when our friends Christian and Georgia came to visit. After a few days in La Paz, we took the boat back north twenty miles to the islands, and anchored again at Caleta Partida. We had three days of sunshine, kayaking, snorkeling, exploring on land, and an overall fine time.

Christian, who lived in Mexico as a young teenager, revived his excellent Spanish to talk with the local fisherman in his blue and white panga. It was hard times for the fisherman, because there was no market for the few fish he was catching this year. He was considering selling his panga to pay for a Christmas celebration.

Christian is about to begin his first full term as a Representative in the Oregon Legislature. And today we read that our college classmate, Jane Lubchenco, will be tapped by President elect Obama as head of NOAA. It is amazing to think that people we know to be energetic, intelligent, and far sighted will be participating in government, and beginning to tackle the immensely complex problems we face. We will be holding our breath and looking for small ways to help in the balancing act that will follow.

Convergance

2008-12-07T18:09:00.000-08:00

Our first week in La Paz has flown by like a shooting star. We have spent four hours a day in Spanish classes, and more hours learning our way around the city and catching up on chores and connections.
Mid week, we had three nights where we could see this wonderful convergance - the new moon in the west seemed to be hanging above Venus and Jupiter - beautiful from dusk and for several hours after dark. Although at the edge of the city, the sky here is comparatively clear and unpolluted. Click on the photo above to see the photo in more detail.
We have posted many more photos from the last six months of travel on Flickr. You can find the Flicker page by clicking on the link at the right that says "Photos from Indigo's Travels".

Old Friends in New Places

2008-12-01T13:55:00.000-08:00

While kayaking along the south shore of Isla Partida, we came upon a dozen or so herons, along the waterline or perched up on the tumbled, eroded rock faces. We assumed immediately that they were an exotic, Mexican heron. But on close inspection, they turned out to be the familiar Great Blue Heron – Portland’s city bird!
Looking at the photo, you’ll have to admit that this isn’t the setting we Pacific Northwesterners are accustomed to. Red rock and cactus don’t immediately suggest Great Blue Herons.
Bird watching is a lazy man’s sport from a boat at anchor, and we spent one long afternoon watching an unfamiliar bird that fished by diving from great heights, straight down into the water like an arrow. After several hours of work with binoculars, bird books, and beer, we discovered we were watching Blue Footed Boobies. New friends in an exotic setting.

El destino

2008-11-28T13:57:00.000-08:00

We have reached our destination. Geographically, we are just a dozen or so miles from La Paz, where we will spend the next few months. But before surrendering to the security of the marina, we are spending a few days anchored in a bay between Isla Partida and Isla Espiritu Santo. It feels just right, it must be "el destino", the place we have been heading for. The water is turquoise and very clear. Beaches of white sand run along the shore. Steep cliffs rise up several thousand feet to our north and south, made up of reddish lava rock, with sparse cacti and brush here and there. Kayak expeditions take us to heron hangouts and reefs alive with fish. Crazy winds blow up at sunset, mocking our sense of security and laid back comfort, but bouncing the boat only gently now that we are protected from the swell of the open Pacific.
Yesterday, we celebrated Thanksgiving with a dinner made out of our now depleted stores - pumpkin flan was the closest we could get to traditional, but we were very thankful, none the less for this fine 'destino'.

Happy Birthday, Captain

2008-11-21T13:54:00.001-08:00

We reached the southern tip of the Baja Peninsula yesterday. Coincidently, it was the Captain's Birthday. Since shopping for a gift wasn't an option, we made the entire day his birthday present.
At 1 am, when he came on deck for his night watch, I gave him a waning moon that looked just like an orange section. At 4 am, he got the tropics, as we crossed the Tropic of Cancer off Todos Santos. At eight, he got the headlands called Cabo Falso, at nine the rocky shores off Cabo San Lucas. In the afternoon, after we had tied up at a marina near San Jose del Cabo, he got a beer, a shower and a nap. After the sun went down, he received the traditional travel birthday cake, which is a Pineapple Upside Down Cake. He was a happy man.

Abreojos!

2008-11-15T10:29:00.000-08:00

Late morning now, Indigo is sailing upwind at about five knots in a very light breeze. It is perfectly clear, and the temperature must be about 75 degrees. The sea is quite calm, the motion of the boat quite smooth.
We've been having conditions like this for several days now, and we can't quite believe it. Are we really awake? We've just left an anchorage off the little seaside village of Abreojos, which means open your eyes. The name comes from the reefs and rocks that make the approach to the anchorage a bit tricky. You must pay attention! But our eyes are open and this isn't a dream.

Madrugada

2008-11-11T08:00:00.000-08:00

Dawn in my favorite moment during these long passages, and madrugada, which means dawn, is one of my favorite Spanish words. The watches at night, especially when it is cloudy and dark, can be a little grim, a little frightening. We've had two night passages when the wind has been strong, and called for sail changes, so that neither of us got much sleep.
When dawn breaks, we can see the land masses and the sea often settles down. Everything seems a bit more manageable. Optimism returns.
We are now about a third of the way down the Pacific Coast of Baja, anticipating our anchorage at Bajia Tortugas, which is protected from the swell and should allow us a few nights of easy sleep.

In Mexico

2008-11-07T12:44:00.001-08:00

Indigo and her crew are now in Mexico.
We crept out of San Diego in the dark very early yesterday morning, and sailed most of the day in a gusty, Santa Ana type east wind. We arrived in Ensenada mid-afternoon, and spent a few hours yesterday, and a few more this morning, completing the paperwork necessary to check ourselves and the boat into Mexico. Now we are off to the nearby Guadalupe Valley to sample some of the good food and wine for which the place has become famous.
Tomorrow we will head south. From here to Cabo San Lucas there is not much in the way of ports, so we expect that our communication will be limited to what we can accomplish via the single side band radio. We are delighted to be back in Mexico, and find that our little bit of Spanish is bubbling to the surface. Gracias a Dios!

Sitka to San Diego

2008-10-30T21:16:00.000-07:00

Indigo has now carried us from Sitka to San Diego!

In 2004, the first year we sailed Indigo, we traveled as far north as Sitka, on beautiful Baranoff Island, in Southeast Alaska. The summer sun didn't fade until nearly eleven, we were fascinated with totem poles, the sea sparkled, the air was brisk, and hot springs were our greatest delight. We covered lots of miles, and explored dozens and dozens of anchorages, and determined that we would travel more slowly in the future.

This year, we have sailed Indigo as far south as San Diego. The days are short, but the warm air persists into the evening hours and the Southern California waters have their own sparkle. We are interested in cactus, and are more likely to soak in a hot tub.

If we had sailed directly from Sitka to San Diego, it would have been a trip of about 1800 miles. But our log tells us that we have covered nearly 15,000 miles since we set out on Indigo. This says alot about our favored mode of travel.

We do plan to continue south without going around in circles. If all goes as planned, we will leave San Diego after Election Day, and travel down the Pacific Coast of Baja California, hoping to reach La Paz, Baja California Sur, by December 1st.

Anacapa and Catalina

2008-10-26T18:49:00.000-07:00

As we've traveled south down the Pacific Coast, we've been reading the nineteenth century Coast Pilots, the book of sailing and navigational directions first published around 1880, and now in its 37th Edition. The first photos of coastal features appeared around 1900; before that mariners relied on hand drawn coastal views, like the one above, to confirm their locations. Last week we passed by this very spot at the east end of Anacapa Island, one of the northern Channel Islands, and had a chance to compare an old coastal view with the present day coastline.

We were interested in differences between the drawing and the same cliffs and rock arch one hundred and fifty years later. There may have been some imprecision in the original artist's sketch and its translation by the engraver (in this case, interestingly enough, a young James Whistler, then a recent graduate of West Point). But it is clear that the sea has eroded and changed the rock formations.

From the northern Channel Islands, we motored south sixty miles to Catalina Island. We spent a night at anchor in Catalina Harbour and explored the Twin Harbours area on foot, then sailed around the southwest side of the island, a wild and scenic coast with virtually no sign of habitation. Dramatic rock formations, like the one above known as Ribbon Rock, show layers of geological history.

We moored for several days and nights at Avalon on the eastern tip of Catalina Island. Avalon is unique; from the harbor, it looks for all the world as if you are in a Mediterranean Port, with its villas climbing up the steep hillsides, and a fine waterfront esplanade. There were relatively few boats tied up when we were there, and the shoreline was beautiful at night, with lights twinkling in the warm, still air. The tile fresco, found on the shore of the harbor, is of the Casino which dominates one end of the harbor, and still looks much like this. We think we could profitably spend months enjoying the Channel Islands, and hope to return.

A Perspective on Voting

2008-10-26T13:14:00.000-07:00

We tied up at the Channel Islands Harbor in Oxnard for a few days, and made forays by rental car to Ventura and into Los Angeles. We experienced the hot, dry Santa Ana winds, a closeup view of a wildfire, and awe-inspiring traffic. We also managed to catch up with our mail ballots from Oregon (many thanks to the mate's cousin John Ridgway). Once we posted the ballots, we left Oxnard, and crossed back to Santa Cruz Island. Today we are making the fifty mile crossing to Catalina Island.
The photo above is of the oil rigs in the Santa Barbara Channel. Although it is just one of dozens of issues in this campaign, off-shore drilling for oil has become to be sort of an indicator issue for us. We are hoping for a change in leadership, a move away from the kind of short-sighted, easy fix that increased off shore drilling would represent. We are holding our breath and hoping this election brings a new kind of leadership.

Channel Islands Pilgrimage

2008-10-21T21:17:00.000-07:00

We have just finished up six days exploring the four northernmost of the Channel Islands, twenty miles off the coast south of Santa Barbara. Although tonight we are sitting in a very civilized marina in Oxnard, we both feel as if we have been on a pilgrimage to a holy place, one that is wild, scenic, majestic, and challenging.
Almost all of these islands are now a National Park, although Santa Cruz Island is partly owned and managed by the Nature Conservancy. For many years prior to park designation, they were ranch land. We anchored for several nights off of Smuggler’s Cove on Santa Cruz Island, where there was a beautiful grove of olive trees and an old ranch building.

The shorelines of all the islands are steep and rocky, the cliffs and peaks colored with rock that is yellow ochre, deep brown, reddish, and even blue. Some swell and surf surges along the shore in virtually all the anchorages, and we never did manage to land in a place where we could hike. This only whetted our appetites for a return trip.

Even if we didn't get to shore, we had days of wonderful sailing amongst the islands. We are still amazed that we can be sailing in a brisk breeze, and not be cold. As you can see from this photo of the mate, the sunshine and warmth are a delight. Our southerly travels along the California coast have been full of rewarding surprises. A few weeks ago, we knew nothing of the Channel Islands, and now we wonder if stumbling into a holy place can constitute a pilgrimage.

Getting More Interesting?

2008-10-15T11:53:00.000-07:00

Looking around, we notice that the scenery is different, that the weather is changing, and that we are encountering new critters. Things seem to be getting more interesting, if only because we constantly moving into new territory.
So we are trying to ramp up the quality and frequency of updates. We are trying to keep up to post more often to the map that shows our current location (which you can access by clicking on the words "Indigo's Recent Locations" on the right of this page). We are also posting photos to our Flicker Page (click on the Flickr badge, also on the right hand bar). You can also see larger versions of most of the photos recently posted to the blog and those on the Flickr page by clicking on the photo itself.

Point Conception

2008-10-15T09:22:00.000-07:00

Monday we came around Point Conception, the place where the California coast turns from a north-south direction to an east-west direction. Although this point is notoriously rough, we encountered it on a calm, sunny day, and we continued on to Santa Barbara under sunny skies.
Talk to anyone who has traveled south along the Pacific Coast, and you will hear that everything gets better after you have rounded Point Conception. Everyone agrees that the weather gets warmer and sunnier and the sea calmer once you are south of Point Conception. After three perfect days in Santa Barbara, we are believers.

Point Conception is also the "place of beginning", the point where the US government survey of the west coast began. The first group of surveyors camped on Point Conception in 1850 to determine exact latitude and longitude with sightings of the sun, stars and moon. Because of the frequency of fog, it took them 50 days and nights to get the exact location fixed, and all future surveys and sightings refered back to the baseline shown on this map, running from the top of Cape Conception down to what is now known as the Coho Anchorage. How different for us today, with the GPS updating the latitude and longitude every few seconds.

Morro Bay

2008-10-10T12:51:00.000-07:00

We made the overnight passage south from Santa Cruz Monday and Tuesday, under sail for twenty hours. Now we are moored at Morro Bay a unpretentious small town with its own personality. I think the sign in the pawn shop window said it all: "funky yet unrefined".
The bay here is lovely, its entrance marked by the dramatic Morro Rock, and by a large, largely mothballed, power plant. It is sheltered from the open ocean by beautiful sand dunes, is quite large and shallow, and teems with birds. With fine weather, we have enjoyed kayaking, especially at the beginning and end of the day when the light is good and the wind dies down. This Great White Egret occupied an especially nice spot, where grasses and shrubs gave way to bare sandy dunes.

Santa Cruz

2008-10-05T12:53:00.001-07:00

A few days in Santa Cruz have convinced us that the locals take their recreational activities very seriously. The Small Boat Harbor where Indigo is tied up teems with every type and size of
watercraft. The streets are crowded with bicycles, and there are a unusually high percentage of slim, fit, tan citizens.

The wonderful old amusement park on the waterfront reinforces the image of a fun-loving place. We have been trying to fit in, but can't help but gawk at the tall palm trees against the blue, blue sky. We are still newcomers here - it seems miraculous to us that the sun shines all day every day. Ah, California!

Feeding Frenzy

2008-10-03T12:31:00.000-07:00

We left San Francisco Bay three days ago, and made two day trips to arrive in Santa Cruz. The weather has been nearly perfect, and conditions mild. We were able to sail for half a day as we approached Santa Cruz, so we were a quiet presence as we approached this feeding frenzy. Three or four Humpback Whales, a herd of California Sea Lions, dozens of Brown Pelicans, and the odd gull were all circling and diving and leaping from the water, apparently feasting on some dense concentration of fish. There was no sign that any of these creatures were aware of our boat, so we steered clear, awed by the intensity of noise, churning water, and bird calls.

Adios, Oakland

2008-09-26T23:41:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow we plan to leave Oakland, where we have been tied up for a few weeks, within sight of the very impressive shipping facilities pictured above. The Panamax (meaning ships that are too large to transit the Panama Canal, and mainly serving the trade between China and the US) port of Oakland is a tiny piece of the rich stew that is Oakland. While we have been tied up at the Jack London Square, we have enjoyed great farmer's markets, the odd mix that is Old Oakland, the ferry service to San Francisco, the haunting sound of Amtrak trains passing by just a block away, and impeccable marina facilities, including high speed internet. This last has been a mixed blessing, because we have been able to spend hours reading online and learning more than we ever knew we wanted to know about the financial markets in the US and worldwide.
But, still, we have to leave because we are in danger of loosing our sea legs. While moored here, we have rented cars, spent days at a time off the boat with treasured old friends, and soaked ourselves in the pleasures of city life. The particular combination of perfect California Indian Summer, great food and wine, and deep connections to people and places is like an opiate. We can tell we are straying from our purpose, which is to make progress toward the south. So adios to Oakland and our Bay Area connections.

A Different Perspective

2008-09-11T20:34:00.000-07:00

We sailed into San Francisco yesterday morning, passing the Marin headlands and then through the Golden Gate and under the bridge. It was a gray, overcast morning, and the tides and winds were mild and in our favor. Even so, it was exciting to pass through this rugged and much loved gateway.

Arriving from the sea provided a new perspective on places along the shores familiar to us from when we lived here thirty-five years ago. In fact, in thinking about it, we couldn’t figure out which element provided the greatest change in perception – the unlikely, low-angle, watery view that accompanies an approach by the sea, or the changes in the way we see things now that we are in our sixties as opposed to then, when we felt so very sophisticated at twenty five.
Leaving philosophy aside for the moment, we tied up the boat in Sausalito, went to the movies and ate sushi for dinner

Purple Haze

2008-09-08T17:46:00.000-07:00

We were in Eureka for more than a week, and came to appreciate the special qualities of life in Humboldt County. It first struck us when we went to the farmer's market and discovered beautiful produce, much of it multicolored: kaleidoscopic carrots, multicolored cauliflower, poly chrome peppers. The Humboldt creamery is well known for its Purple Haze goat cheese.
There is definitely a thriving agricultural scene here and many small farming operations. We understood this better when we came upon an article in a recent New Yorker about California's medical marijuana law, which can make growing the weed legal under certain circumstances. This accounts for the half dozen thriving storefronts in Eureka advertising agricultural equipment and plant nutrients. There was a palpable aging hippie vibe, as if many people ended up here, a sort of Hotel California place.
For a few days, when the weather refused to change, we feared that we, too, would end up in Eureka forever, but the winds and waves finally diminished, and we are now anchored in Drakes Bay, just inside Point Reyes, and will head into San Francisco tomorrow.

Humboldt Bay

2008-09-02T12:04:00.001-07:00

We have been at the dock in Eureka for a week, exploring Humboldt Bay by kayak and on land. Humboldt Bay is the second largest bay on the California coast, and resembles San Francisco Bay in that it has northern and southern arms. Eureka is in the north arm, a mixture of industry, shallow mud flats, and sloughs and channels. Kayaking early in the morning, before the pesky wind develops, we have explored the nearby islands, and seen dozens of water birds. We took advantage of a rental car to get to the south slough, much of which is a wildlife preserve, and found more birds, and more varied wetlands and salt marshes.
We owe our stay in Eureka to a weather pattern of very high winds each day, and resulting high seas. Even the local fishermen are staying at the dock. We are secretly pleased that we have had this opportunity to explore.

Coastal Passages

2008-08-28T14:48:00.000-07:00

We have brought Indigo south to Eureka, California, accomplishing this in three coastal passages of about thirty hours each, traveling between five and thirty miles offshore. On every passage there are moments of despair, of wishing we were snug at home on land. When seas are rough – as they frequently are off the coast of Washington, Oregon, and Northern California - it feels as if the boat is a frisbee being tossed around in the ultimate game. At night and in fog we get damp and cold. Occasionally there are minutes of panic, or long spells of boredom or mild mal de mer.
But, so far, there have been plenty of incredible moments where I say to myself, “this is worth the price of admission!” Like seeing the rugged Southern Oregon coast in the light of a summer sunset. Who gets to see the coast from this perspective? Or the midday encounter with a half dozen sea critters who we at first thought were Orca whales. On closer inspection, we discovered they were Risso’s Dolphins, a species we had never heard of before. They share the Orca’s upright dorsal fins and are nearly as large, but are paler in color and play near the surface in groups.
Maybe my best moment came at the end of a three hour, middle of the night watch in very rough water and high winds off Crescent City, just south of the Oregon boarder. As the Captain roused himself to take over, I sat under a star-studded sky in the cockpit and watched a crescent moon rise over the Northern California coastal mountains. It was large and yellow and looked exactly like a big banana in the dark sky. A rare sight, and definitely worth the price of admission.

Splicing and Storms

2008-08-21T18:21:00.000-07:00

We sat out a two day storm moored in Astoria. While the wind howled and the rain pelted down, we accomplished a host of chores and projects. The most impressive accomplishment was the Captain's: he mastered the art of making the end-to-end slice necessary to create the continuous loop of rope which furls and unfurls our mainsail. It turns out that the fids and pushers used in splicing rope have some similarity to the tunnelers and grafts that are the tools of the vascular surgeon.
Now that the storm has past, we will continue our travels to the south. We will leave early tomorrow for a two-day passage to Coos Bay.

Spinning South with the Elephant

2008-08-19T11:08:00.000-07:00

A week ago, we picked up our sails in Port Townsend. Our jib, main, and storm jib had been repaired and reinforced, and we added storm trys'l. But the most spectacular addition is a colorful cruising spinnaker, also called a spindrifter.
We spent a morning hoisting and furling our "white sails", then turned to the Spinnaker, sitting on the dock in its bag. This is a big sail - 1284 square feet of purple and blue ripstop cloth. We stared at bulky thing, and determined that it should be called the Elephant, since it was the largest thing we had ever had to stow on the boat. With some creative rearranging, we were able to free up the deck locker on the bow, giving the beast a place to live.

The following morning, we motored out into the Admiralty Inlet in brilliant sunlight to try out the spinnaker. In six or seven knots of wind, we pulled the Elephant, packed in a tube of light cloth called the snuffer, from its locker. The Captain hoisted the long tube, then pulled back the snuffer. The wind filled the big, big pachyderm of a sail, and the boat picked up and ran downwind at nearly five knots. We practiced snuffing and releasing the sail happily for hours.
Since then, we have transited the Strait of Juan de Fuca, and made the trip down the coast of Washington state. We had light winds as we began the offshore passage, and sailed with the spinnaker for several hours. The wind increased suddenly, and we learned that snuffing the Elephant offshore in an eight foot swell and fifteen knots of wind is a little more difficult, but still possible. We had a windy and foggy twenty-seven hour trip to Astoria, sailing most of those hours and sad only because we couldn't see the full moon.

Familiar Waters

2008-08-11T13:47:00.000-07:00

We cast off our lines and left Anacortes this morning, the first step in our trip south down the Pacific Coast toward Mexico. We passed out of the Guemes Channel, down the Rosario Strait, and past Deception Pass. We know these waters well – where the current is strong, where the underwater rocks lie, there the tide rips are treacherous. It occurred to us that we were leaving behind the comfort of familiar waters. This made me think of Mark Twain.
As a young man, Mark Twain worked on river boats along the Mississippi, eventually earning his license as a Steamboat Pilot. This entailed learning every bend, bar, and port along the river. He later wrote:
“The face of the water, in time, became a wonderful book, a book that was a dead language to the uneducated passenger, but which told its mind to me without reserve, delivering its most cherished secrets as clearly as if it uttered them with a voice. And it was not a book to be read once and thrown aside, for it had a new story to tell every day. Throughout the long 1200 miles there was never a page that was void of interest, never one that you could leave unread and lost, never one that you would want to skip, thinking you could find higher enjoyment in some other thing. In truth, the passenger who could not read this book saw nothing but all manner of pretty pictures in it, painted by the sun and shaded by the clouds, where as to the trained eye, these were not pictures at all, but the grimmest and most dead earnest of reading matter.”

Leaving Canada

2008-07-28T17:15:00.000-07:00

We dropped Sam and Kate off in Ucluelet yesterday at midday, then sailed late into the evening in order to stay ahead of bad weather. Our reward was this sunset view, accented by fog, off Carmanah Point, just at the entrance to the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

This passage was a bit sad because we are leaving Canada, after five happy years of part-time residence there. The coastal waters of British Columbia have become like a second home to us; we know the ports, the passages, the anchorages, and the weather. Or we have begun to know them, in the way that any visitor claims acquaintance after the second visit. We will miss the sense of returning to familiar spots, and guess that we won't see many anchorages or passages as pristine and unspoiled as those in British Columbia.

In anticipation of further journeys, we are gathering the items we will no longer be needing on the boat. We are accumulating a pile of books, charts, and navigation information specific to Canada. A look through our stores reveals how attached we have become to a few Canadian goods. The Captain is grim at the thought that he will no longer be able to buy Canadian maple syrup, and I will miss my PeekFreans ginger cookies. But I won't give up my Canadian baking powder! I've stocked up so that my galley will never be without poudre MAGIC!

Indigo Under Sail

2008-07-25T20:45:00.000-07:00

Finally, after 12,000 miles of travel, we got a few photos of "Indigo" under sail. We accomplished this with the perfect combination: it was a sunny day with a light but steady wind; we had our son, Sam, and his partner Kate Gigler on board; and Sam is an experienced dinghy driver. This is the kind of messing around in boats that has characterized our month in Barkley Sound.

A postscript: we tried to post this blog entry using the single sideband radio, and the photo didn't find it's way to the blog. Now that we have a good internet connection, I am posting the original photo and one more. We are becoming aware that there is a world of difference between the beefy internet that is called broadband (the norm in most of the wired world these days)and the simpler forms that support messages of around 300 to 800 bytes to be sent from remote locations. For comparison, check your normal email, remembering that kilobytes are bytes times 1000!