Monday, July 19, 2010

Bashing North: San Diego to Sausalito

July off the coast of California is foggy and cold.  Repair the bilge pump ... repair the boat leaks ... visit Santa Barbara, Moro Bay and Monterrey on course for Sausalito.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Bashing North Along the Pacific Coast: Ensenada to San Diego

Caution … entering the full spin zone … reality is an illusion … truth is in the eye of the beholder ...

It has been a while since I have been out to sea.  Little things and big things in life get in the way; the campaign is on hiatus for now; no big obligations, work or otherwise; the sea is calling me.
Jim took Sea Villa to Mexico last fall on the Baja Ha-ha.  It has been a difficult bash north to the US and hard to get crew; the crew he has cannot enter the US; I head south to Ensenada to help out.  
It has been three years since I was in Ensenada.  Not a lot has changed; the big old news is the cruise ship port and the tourist trade.  Even with the Carnival Paradise in town there are few shoppers.  The economy is difficult everywhere.  Shops row on row with the same tourist goods.  The barkers persuade the curious into the strip joints; I head for the fish market … really.
The best catch of the day here is the heart of the local marine economy.  Restaurants across from the market serve any variety of local dishes.  Barkers with cleavage exhort the passersby; the barker at Nortenos is the best sales woman (without cleavage); she gets the crowd while the other shops are empty.  I sit down and have a shrimp cocktail (I never look into the kitchen at a restaurant I will eat at).  Mariachis play for tips.  The customers are mostly local Mexican nationals in these ramshackle abodes; the tourists from the cruise ship take photos and walk by.  A motorcycle pizza delivery entrepreneur brings his semi-warm delight to the fish market workers and is a hit; fresh fish versus pizza??? Oh well, life is diverse.

Walking down the Malecon, the hawkers want to take me on a fishing trip or a 2 hour sea cruise.  Instead, I am embarking on Sea Villa.  Jim and Max come back to the boat with parts; Gerardo is busy working to fix the fuel gauge when the battery charger cycles up and the smoke billows from the engine … we will not have a fuel gauge; Max is installing a new fuel filter system because the engine stopped coming up from San Quitin.  Anyone who has been around boats knows that the repair work never ends … never.
You set out to sea with the boat you have, rather than the boat you want.  A risk assessment is made and cleared.  Besides, someone …??? … never checked in with the Mexican authorities and the marina just presented us with a letter of notification … we leave mid morning in heavy over cast with the wind on the nose running north for the border.  Four knots up the coast will dwindle to two as the winds increase and the waves crash on the bow.  The steering wheel wobbles side to side with sixty degrees of play under load; it is difficult to hold a course into the wind.  I knew there was no autopilot and I signed on anyway … two hours on/four hours off all night makes one miss Auto the Pilot.

The coast of Mexico is alive with lights from homes, industry and automobiles.  We keep off shore enough to avoid any obstructions … not too far so as to run into the Coronado Islands … GPS is accurate to nine feet; Mexican charts are accurate to two nautical miles … best to keep our distance from anything more solid and larger than our plastic boat.

Sun rise at the border; the lights along the fence are still bright in the false dawn light.  The coast guard did not meet us today out at sea … they must know by now that I am a personal friend of Dick Chaney.  We head for the SD buoy; Point Loma light is in the distance.  There are no good photos coming into San Diego this time of year.  The morning overcast clings to the city and above the sea.  Visibility at sea level is good; we pick out the red and green buoys and carefully hold our course to stay clear of the destroyer heading out for maneuvers; if I were to suddenly turn to a ramming coarse who knows what would happen … the crew is manning their guns to prevent another Cole incident. 

We end up at the Harbor Police dock to call Homeland Security; it is always good to know that they are on the job … protecting us from Osama Bin Laden.  While one agent grills Jim on his boat registration, I am chatted up by the other agent; this will be a sixteen hour day for him; he was called in early to cover for someone who is absent … this OT happens often and on rotation.  I am careful not to reveal anything … we all have something to hide! ... A constant watch for the drug cartels; the dogs are not working today and an Islander 37 is not a good drug ship, so we are finally cleared and can go up to use the bathrooms … the terrorists are winning … they should turn us old guys with suspect prostates loose on them.

Off to see Don at the fuel dock; Don saved my 2006 Viking II trip to Mexico by helping us with repairs; I will always be indebted to him; I always fuel up there and say hi.  We settled into Southwest Yacht Club where Jim has reciprocity … this may be an upscale cruise yet … a hot shower can be better than …