Panama or BUST!

First Leg 559.73 miles - Barra Navidad, MX to Huatulco, MX

 Departure Date Friday, March 18, 2005

We depart Barra at 7:45 am with clear skies and calm seas.  Winds are minimal at under 12 kts and we are looking forward to some smooth sailing.  Our itinerary is to be four days running 24/7 to arrive at Marina Chahue' on Tuesday morning.

The first 24 hours goes well and besides some increasing winds and what turn out to be rather annoying following seas, things are good.  Then, during one of Fred's engine room inspections, he discovers that the engine room blower has gone out, again.  This latest motor has less than 150 hours on it after Fred had to replace the first one in La Paz.  This is beginning to look like a "design" flaw as Fred likes to say.  We're forced to open the engine room door and the floor hatch located in the salon in an attempt to keep the heat down in the engine room.  Biggest problem with this is that it is LOUD.  That and the high probability that someone is going to end up going through the hole that's been created by removing the hatch in the middle of the salon floor. Where's those orange construction cones you used to steal as a teenager when you need them?

4:00 am, Sunday - I wake to take my shift to hear Fred whisper those five little words you never want to hear, "Houston, we have a problem".  The autopilot has died and Fred's been hand steering for the past hour.  The following seas are running about 6 ft and it's creating a real issue trying to keep the boat on course.  Kinda like riding a drunken cow in a barrel race...slow and swaying all over the place.  Not only is steering a problem, but we have no pilot chair in the wheelhouse, so it's standing room only for the duration of your shift...shit!  This is complicated by the fact that Thor likes to sleep stretched out on the pilot house floor directly under the wheel.  So, if you're not stepping on him, he's laying on your feet.  So standings not bad enough, but now you've got a 90lb lab sleeping on your toes.  Talk about foot strain.

Somewhere along the way (the days and times just start running together) Fred notices some smoke coming from a mountain.  After grabbing the binoculars and checking it out, we think that this is actually a volcano having a small eruption.   It could of been someone sending smoke signals, but we're holding with the volcano story.  The picture is not very good as we were about 15+ miles offshore, but you get the idea.

We arrive in Acapulco Bay and have to decide our next course of action.  We know that wherever we stop, we're going to have to stay put until we can get parts to fix both the autopilot and the engine room blower before continuing on.  We've been on "manual" for about 10 hours now and we're both a bit drained.  Neither of us are too interested in holeing up in Acapulco, but Huatulco is another 48 hours away which is a long ass time standing...what to do, what to do??  After some discussion, we decide to just keep on and head for Huatulco.  Point of interest, we also encounter a "red tide" outside of Acapulco, which if you've never seen one is very weird.  Didn't get any pictures of this due to both hands on the wheel as it was my shift, but there are these huge reddish/brown patches in the blue water...very weird.  You're not sure if some sort of major slaughter has just happened by or what.  These "red tides" are apparently created by sudden temperature changes in the water or by some sort of algae bloom or something.  I have no web access at present, so I have no way to verify any of these theories.  If anyone knows for sure, drop me an email as I will probably not go back over this webpage to make certain of any of the theories before uploading it.  Remember my disclaimer...

After additional review of the cruising books, we find that there is in fact an anchorage 140 miles south of Acapulco.  We decide to head for Punta Galera and get some rest.  Normally, several days of 24/7 wouldn't be a big deal, but the constant standing and manually steering are starting to take their toll on us.  What can I say...we're just not "old salts", at least not yet.  That and the fact we'll need to time our arrival in Marina Chahue for morning light, so we've got some time to kill.  Amazing... you can be two days away from your destination, but you still need to either stop or slow down so that your arrival is inline with the sun, the moon or the marina opening.  So much for let's hurry up and get there.

The winds are howling a bit and anchorage at Punta Galera is to say the least, a bit rolly.  No matter, we're beat and look forward to having some quiet time.  We plan on staying about five or six hours before heading off again.  Enough time for a shower, some sleep and some grub.  Another anchored trawler hails us on the VHF and asks if we have any weather info as they are trying to head north and have been in this anchorage for three days waiting out the weather.  We thought we had issues.  These guys had lost their autopilot and along the way, both engines had quit. They had gotten one back, but were having several other mechanical failures.  They've apparently been 'cruising" for 24 years.  TWENTY-FOUR YEARS!!! Shit, sometimes I don't think we'll make it another 24 days, hours or minutes.  That's commitment...either that or sheer lunacy.  The weather faxes show that things are actually suppose to settle down over the next 24 hours so we decide to hang out, getting a full night's sleep, but more importantly, partake in that wonderful ritual of "happy hour".   With that carrot dangling, no further discussion of whether we should stay or not is needed.

During our passage the previous night, we had been hosts to several un-welcomed frigate birds who showed their gratitude for the free ride by shitting all over the boat.  Not only have the foredeck and Portuguese bridge been bombed but the paravane arms are disgusting.  With no easy way to clean those in a marina, Fred shimmies out, hose and scrub brush in hand for a little clean up work.  Of course the way this works is you wet down the poop, scrub it a little, and then rinse, to watch it all run down the paravane arm you're laying on, right into your shorts.  Boat cleaning done, weather consulted and time travel calculated, we head for the flybridge with Don Julio in hand and call it a day.

Tuesday morning and the water is dead calm.  Fred's concerned that we possibly have missed our weather window and that the calm seas might be short lived.  We head off and even with the paravanes out are still making 6.5+ knots.  Flying!!!

The vacancy sign is apparently lit up again and this guy along with about 100 or so of his closest friends decide to drop in for a visit.  We're 15 miles offshore so a swarm of bees is a bit unexpected.  Fred is fighting them off with a dish towel until they start landing on his head, arms and start crawling on his legs.  Enough is enough and we're forced to take cover inside the boat.  Problem is it's too hot inside the boat to close the doors and we still need to vent out the engine room heat, so the upper portion of the pilothouse doors stay open.  This is enough of an invitation that several of these bastards start flying in.  Now, I know what you're thinking, geez...it's just a few bees.  But I'm telling you, these are not like the bees in the states.  I got stung by one in Mazatlan and my leg swelled up for four days and itched for almost a week.  These little bastards are alot more aggressive than the bees we're used to.  After some investigation, we found out that these are Africanized Mexican bees and they have an attitude.  It's almost sunset and Fred informs me that they'll be gone at sundown.  Why???  Do they have a curfew or something?  Do they turn into pumpkins when the sun goes down?  No, it has something to do with the ultraviolet rays and their flying.  Okay, Marlin Perkins...whatever.  As long as they go away I don't care what the reason.  Sure enough, shortly after sundown they depart but leave the decks littered with dead bodies.  Not sure if these are the casualties from Fred and his dish towel, a planned mass suicide or what. Doesn't matter, we're just glad they're gone.

With neither of us looking forward to another night of standing watch and necessity being the mother of invention, DiveAdx introduces the "Ghetto Pilot Chair".  Just perfect for those cruisers with limited space, limited budgets and no other options.  So what if you need a booster seat to actually see out the windows?  That's why we've got radar, right?  Who needs those fancy $8000 helm chairs with their plushy leather seats, comfy footstools and cool cup holders?  The Ghetto Pilot Chair - Get yours today!                       

                            Available at all major discount stores where folding chairs are sold! 

We arrive in Huatulco around 1:00 am and anchor in a bay outside the marina to await its opening.  We receive a warm welcome from Enrique the harbormaster here at Marina Chahue'.  By far, the most friendly, accommodating and professional harbormaster we have met to date.  There's not much here other than the docks as the facilities are still under construction, but Enrique makes up for the lack of niceties with his personable demeanor and willingness to help with anything you might need.  Thanks to Enrique we were able to get both our engine room blower and our autopilot fixed (finger's crossed).  On a scale of 1-10, Enrique gets a 12 in our book!

On one of our morning walks, Zeus got a smooch from a pooch we met along the way.  Zeus spotted this "pooch" and just went nuts.  It was love at first sight!

We depart Marina Chahue' on March 29th as our weather window has opened to cross the dreaded Gulf of Tehuantepec, where gale force winds are capable of blowing a 120' freighter 300+ miles offshore.  Force 8 winds average 140 days a year here...yikes!  Huatulco is our last stop in  Mexico until crossing the Canal and heading up along the eastern coast of Mexico.  Hasta luego Mexico!