Have a wonderful time, Broon!
Bon voyage et au revoir , pas adieu.
WOW! You are
Broonadventuresome!
Have a great trip!
I’m Zenderanvious.
Two more hours. I am logging off in a minute, will have last proper shower for a month or more and then will cast off the lines. Weather will be a nice 15 knot NW wind (cold) and seas around 6 feet most of the way to Guadelupe Island around two days away. Fisrt couple of days will be tough.
That’s it. Bye.
BroonAvante
Left Ensenada on 16th March. All was well for first 5 days then huge weather system swept down from the north near Point Conception and we were about 200 NM south of Isla Guadelupe when it hit. So bad had to heave to for 4 days (2 on wrong tack). On the 3rd day of being thrown around like a bloody rag doll in seas as high as the boat is long a wave twice the normal height came in from 45 degrees off the normal swell direction hitting the boat beam on knocking us down 90 degrees but she righted herself. Time stood still. In fact, almost out of any power and with no signs of it abating, I hit the distress on the SSB. This was picked up in Taiwan (funnily enough), I learned later, relayed to the USCG and then to the UK. I went outside and saw the mast was still there and so was everything else including the solar panels and wind generator and dinghy and therfore decided to cancel the DSC distress alert. This happened in the early hours on the 24th March I think. Later that day, I gybed the boat and decided to sail out of the storm. I could not start the engine because the batteries had drained and the generator did not work as the boat was being tossed about. So, under double reefed main and staysail, headed back east towards Mexico, over 500 nautical miles away. At this point the boat had drifted nearly 200 miles further south. It was a hair-raising sleigh ride to 120 degrees west when it began to abate but the seas were still huge and confused. Fortunately the windvane worked beautifully and the boat steered herself so we could tidy up the mess below. Slept in foulweather gear on the cabin sole as it was the most comfortable. After 4 days sailing, increasing sail all the time and clocking over 10 knots at times (and in the first 24 hours of sailing out of the storm clocked up about 140 nautical miles), the generator managed to get the engine battery charged and after a bit of spluttering, she started and I kept it going for the next 20 hours to get power back and to get the radios working again. About 35 miles from Bahia Magdalena (big bay on Pacific side 150 miles north of Cabo San Lucas), I contacted the cruiseship Carnival Splendor who informed the UK coastguard of our position, that we were alive and heading for shore. After standing offshore that night dawn broke with the entrance to Magdalena Bay in front of us, right there. This was done with a paper chart of the South Pacific as we had no detailed Mexican charts on board and a handheld GPS. I have never been so bloody relieved in my life. I hung over the guard rail and sobbed. It was the most spectacular sunrise I have ever seen. It was land. For two weeks we had seen nothing, only a blip on a radar the night before which was the cruiseship. We motored into the bay escorted by dozens of dolphins and the water turned flat calm. We headed directly to the naval station at Puerto Cortes and dropped the anchor behind a small frigate. The ‘Armada de Mexico’ boarded the boat and offered to take us ashore where we could shower. After that we moved to anchor outside a small village called Puerto Alcatraz, ate langoustine given by the local fishermen, drank beer and tried to put some weight back on.
After 10 days there, we moved across the bay about 20NM to Puerto Magdalena and anchored with three other boats. After three nights there, we all left for Cabo San Lucas. All was well until three a.m about 70NM miles from Cabo when the engine died. It was a fuel problem as the knockdown may have dislodged some debris in the tanks and this starved the engine. I got it going again for 4 hours after taking a nap and drifing a bit, maybe 20 miles, then 16NM from Cabo Falso, on a lee shore, she died again. We were motoring to make the best of a weather window but at that precise moment, it got worse. Fortunately, I had managed to catch up to another boat and made contact via radio and it turned around to throw us a line. That manouever in a heavy swell was pretty difficult but it went well first time. We then entered Cabo San Lucas under tow. As the bay there is full of idiots on jet skis and tour boats, we had the port captain issue a “securite” to stop all boat movement in port until we had got the anchor down as the wind was howling. The swell coming around the Cape where it meets the Sea of Cortez is not nice. Anyway, because of the DSC distress alert some weeks earlier, the Port Captain knew of our boat as the cruiseship had also informed the Mexican Authorities. The Port Security then tied alongside and pushed us into a restricted anchorage just off the beach and at the entrance to the marina area. Coincidentally one of the boats we left Mag Bay with, has the same make and model (Perkins 4-108) and we spent a bit of time trying to fix the problem. It turned out to be dirt in the fuel system dislodged by the storm. We did manage to get the engine going briefly but only for a short while but while sitting ata waterfront bar in Cabo got to know of a decent mechanic who could polish the fuel. There then followed moments of anxiety as two pangas pushed the boat into the marina in Cabo which is very tight and full of American owned sportfishing boats whizzing past showing no consideration whatsoever. The mechanic managed to get the engine going changed fuel lines and we left the following day with another boat, attempting to motor up to Cabo Los Frailes as the wind was right on the nose. Despite some surging we made it and anchored down for the night. The next day was a 50NM motor up to Bahia de los Muertos where we anchored just after dark. The third day was a 55NM motor sail round to Balandra Cove about 10 NM from a Paz in Baja California Sur. After a strong southerly Corumel blew in that night the wind settled and we motored through the narrow channel to Marina de La Paz, a hot shower and a sit down meal in the attached restaurant.
So, that’s it really. Bit of an adventure. BUT, that storm showed that the boat can take a battering and pull through. She looked after us and it lived up to its reputation as a tough boat. The experience has not put me off but I must confess to shaking a bit as I write; perhaps delayed shock and fear until we reached somewhere that looked like civilization. I have to admit that at times the terror was so overwhelming that I felt on the verge of madness. Going out on deck to do what needed to be done, with a sick crewmate below it was all one could do not to freeze as seas as high as the boat is long bore down on one. It was a struggle to not put the situation in any kind of perspective; to not think that there is absolutely no one around, to not imagine or have an image of a small sailboat being thrown around in confused seas and make a connection between that image and your own situation. Dwelling on the at times seeming hopelessness just threw one into the ever willing arms of despair. Strangely, night brought some respite as not seeing the walls of water coming at you reduced the fear a little but all the while you just waited for the end. For days we ate nothing, drank very little and could feel the strength ebbing. At times the boat was eerily still, sitting quietly in a trough. Then you would begin to count and the pummelling would begin again. The noise from outside was truly deafening but only the noises inside my head were louder…the verge of madness. Sleep, fitful though it was brought on dreams and memories that were so far recessed in the mind I would awake astonished at their clarity. These dreams of childhood were so clear, it was as if I was trying to re-live my life. Part of the mind was preparing itself for the end, I thought. Waking up the nightmare continued. We were out there for days and yet have little conscious recollection of how the time was passed. It just did. Prolonged periods of fear followed by lethargy, fatigue and occasional bursts of activity as neccessity deemed. The decision to gybe 270 degrees through huge seas was the riskiest manouever I have ever done but was the only option. Standing in an exposed cockpit facing 30+ foot seas deliberately putting the boat in a vulnerable position just to try and get moving was a desperate move but it did work otherwise we would not be here. For all the electronic gadgetry on board it was a 40 year old rebuilt mechanical windvane that was the life saver. This thing (an Aries) once set will steer any boat on any chosen course. After choosing to head directly east, it steered the boat effortlessly and freed us up to rest. My crew was still bed-ridden at this point and could not stand watch. Neither did I. We sailed blind with no lights, hoping to God that no one else was out there. I could only really guess as to the exact location of any shipping lanes but as long as the boat was moving, we didn’t care.
Of the limited human contact we have had, I have to say that the Mexican Navy and officials have been most friendly and fellow yachties have been very generous with assistance. We are all on our own so we share and trade stuff. An eclectic bunch and we have had some great times too. That first night in Bahia Magdalena watching the sun go down, cold beer in hand was one of the most relaxing of my life.
So, it looks like a potter about the Sea of Cortez until the end of the hurricane season and a new route is planned down the central American coast to Panama before beginning the Pacific crossing again via the Galapagos early next year.
It has made us more determined than ever but in the interim, life here in La Paz is great. Cold beer, excellent food, a safe harbour and a lot of lessons learned as well as a good few sea miles.
BroonArribo
Wow! Wow! Just Wow!
:bravo: 
:bravo:
Good to hear that you’re safe. Thanks for the update and good luck on the trip south. The Galapagos Islands are fantastic! One of the best places i’ve ever been, and one of those places where you don’t need more than a 50mm lense to take great wildlife shots. You are going to have many more thrills I am sure.
zenderagradecido
Wow, Broon, what a story. Sounds amazing and completely terrifying. Good on you for keeping it all together.
Be careful, OK?
Whoa! Glad to hear you’re well, if somewhat shaken! Please keep it that way, well less of the shaken would be good.
HG
You made it! Stirred, but hopefully not shaken.
Welcome to passagemaking. Once you’ve done something like that, you’re essentially seen about the worst there is. You’ll know you’ve come a ways when as heavy weather is approaching, you head out to sea to avoid all the idiots in the harbor.
PS: Don’t bother with running lights offshore - those ships won’t see you anyway. Save the amps.
Aboslutly WOWmazing! I’ve been reading bits of the Kon-Tiki with my class, Brun, and I’m goint to take your account into class today and really dazzle some eight graders! I’m glad you’re well! God speed!
It could hardly be any worse than a good Saturday night at Carnegies.
Glad you made it, you verbose bastard. Smiling trades to you. See you in the South Pacific. Get your nappy-changing skillz honed.
'Course, if you’d been fortunate enough to come from the right side of the UK and far enough north, you’d have been content with:
“Wee bitty blaw. Turned aroond. Noo oan the peeve doon sooth. Back oot again soon enough.”
Ta.
BroonAbbreviates
Wow, what an adventure! :bravo: Well told too. Best of luck to you.
Fabulous - thanks for sharing.
I have been pretty damn scared on boats a few times, either in bad storms, engine troubles, hitting rocks/going aground, or navigating heavy, heavy barge/tug/freighter/fishing traffic and careless 'effing pleasure boaters, but never have I had to endure that fear for such an extended period of time. You have certainly challenged the limits of your endurance.
Glad to hear you are safe and relaxing!
Good to hear all is safe and secure.
Getting off the coast of Mehico can be a problem. Perhaps you should have made a northerly track and just followed in the wake of usual traffic.
Read the charts, follow the weather and stay safe.
Not quite TC, but thanks for the concern.
The wind direction was fine for heading offshore from the Mexican coast; from the NW, we were heading SW so a nice beam reach to 3 degrees north, 128 west (that was the intention anyway). Problem was it shifted to a much stronger northerly bringing a nasty front down with it. The intention was then to take a 180 degree course to 3 degrees south across what should be the narrowest part of the ITCZ then pick up SE trades on a nice reach again to the Marquesas. So, at this/that time of year ‘usual’ traffic is as above: south-ish. Soon though, the prevailing winds will be from the SW which bring hurricanes. At this time of year a northerly tack would be against the wind and anyone going north has to do the Baja Bash; against wind and current which along the coast runs at about 1.5 to 2 knots. The engine problem and hence the need for a tow was because the wind at that moment it picked up from the west making Baja a lee shore. After the storm, the winds were NW again (prevailing) making the return to Baja a relatively easy broad reach with the seas and taking advantage of some current.
My weather indication at the time of departure didn’t indicate the change nor the strength and anyway, the wave that knocked us over was double normal height and came from a different direction. It would have been OK had that not happened although it wasn’t exactly comfortable. The decision to return was the only course of action to take as the power failure meant that there was no access to updated weather information. The only number in my head was 120 degrees west heading east as that line traditionally marks an easing in wind strength if the weather is northerly. At the time of knockdown we were about 121 degrees, 55 minutes west (about 115 nautical miles away). It became a hallowed number and once she began to track east, I steadily increased sail as the wind diminished (but the seas were horrendous and confused) and it was a wet sleigh ride and, I have to admit, at times quite exhilarating sail once out of my own area of perceived immediate danger to vessel and the two lives on board. The boat was pushed in so many ways but she withstood the whole lot and right now, sitting here in a hot calm marina in La Paz, I am proud of her and know that she can take it. Ditto my great female crew member.
Though unexpected and not what was intended, I am glad that it happened as we know sooooooo much more about the boat and where mistakes were made by ourselves and will be much better prepared next time around. At least, we didn’t hit anything and communications were re-established by the time we hit the shipping lanes. In those areas you must have running lights at night and the radar was indispensible (although I confess that prior to the storm, I didn’t use running lights for amp-saving reasons and that area is devoid of shipping traffic). The ships, particularly the cruiseships heading directly for Cabo San Lucas were very obliging when requested that they steer well-clear as I cut 90 degrees across across their tracks. I am also grateful to Carnival Cruise Lines for agreeing to contact the UK coastguard in Falmouth to report our position, heading and well-being. At that time we were hundreds of miles away from the position they received when I activated the DSC distress alert. When I told the Mexican navy where the knockdown occurred they knew exactly just how bad the weather in that spot was. I was just talking today with another bloke who had to return to Mexico due to autopilot failure and he was in the same area only a week later and also said that the weather was nasty. I am beginning to conclude that Isla Guadelupe seems to be a problem as far as bad weather is concerned.
So, in the end, it turned out well. The only system on board that needs looking at is the fuel, the tanks and the filters. The sailing rigging and everything else I spent a year putting together seems to work fine.
BroonAnchorage
:bravo:
Sorry, Chewy is busy right now so I am filling in. 
On a serious note - great to hear from you. Reading your account made goose bumps appear all over my body. I sincerely hope you are keeping a diary and please keep us up to date with your journey.
Miss you. Play safe ok?
So glad you made it out of there in one piece…This may be of little solace, but all of the dive operators running cage diving operations for Great White Sharks on the lee side of Guadelupe Island have a very, very healthy respect for the ever changing sea state in that area, and these are 25-40meter long converted open ocean fishing vessels.
It’s also the area where the California (cold water) and Equatorial counter-currents (warm water) meet and move out westward together.
Just out of curiosity…What was the ocean temp when you ran into weather? (realize you might not have had time to stick a thermometer in the water while fighting for your life, but had you already crossed over into the Equatorial counter current?)
Some of those run out of Ensenada. As to the water temperature, I honestly didn’t really bother checking or noting in the log but I do recall 21 degrees celsius near Guadelupe by accident as I was trying to re-set the units on the speed/log/temp display because it kept switching from nautical miles to kilometres each time I compared boat speed with speed over ground but your assertion may be correct and I’ll look at my pilot charts and check.
I do think that more should be mentioned about that area (otherwise I may have made a note and taken a different route) because it does seem to have a greater than average number of storms. But then again the only people who go there really are the shark boats and the very few yachts taking the direct rout to the Marquesas. The local fishermen tend to stay very close to the island itself. Oh well…at least I have no plans to go anywhere near Guadelupe again: lesson learned.
BroonAware