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This blog will continue as a blook but our most current pages will be found at the above site

The Club Med complex that had been unwelcoming to cruisers in the past has now closed and is currently abandoned. Through a wide break in the rocks peaks a view of the tiny bay just two hundred metres away. Their beach is a pristine crescent and we can't resist a visit.

Cruisers are a curious lot so it doesn't surprise us to see that ours isn't the only dinghy on the club med beach when we land.

The complex is huge with patios, pools, gardens and dance halls surrounded by a half moon of hillsides and a labyrinth of stone walkways. Ever ascending stairways lead to hundreds of rooms tucked in the hillsides.

We speak to each other in whispers, partly because of the feeling of interloping where we shouldn't be and partly because our voices echo eerily in the silence. Poking around the pool and bar areas we open doors and check out the abandoned nooks and crannies.

Giant 12 foot doors lead to a completely empty dancehall except for a disco ball still suspended from the ceiling. Stone and tile benches are tucked here and there throughout the gardens, and around the pools and bar areas.

As we begin our ascent up the labyrinthine stone and tile stairways we wonder how the club medders ever found their way back to their own room after a night of partying. The view is spectacular from the top, too bad we don't have a camera with us.Near the top we find a tangerine tree, the near ripe fruit tart but edible .

We retrace our steps, our pockets bulging with almost ripe tangerines as we negotiate our way downward. Back at the coral littered beach we jump in the dinghy and paddle out to the deeper water then putt back to PJ.

As we're sipping cocktails in the cockpit while supper sizzles on the Barbie we note a dinghy preparing to make a landing in the moderate surf ( we tend to carefully watch dinghy landings these days for techniques we might want to adopt).

The dinghy driver points his dinghy at the spot on the beach where he intends to land and drops the wheels at the stern. After a couple of revs the driver gives 'er on the throttle, the engine snorts to life and the dinghy jumps forward. Rapidly picking up speed the driver keeps it wide open as he approaches the beach, not slowing one iota he splashes though the frothy break onto the beach.

We thought he'd let off once he'd made the beach but no, over the wet sand and all the way to the dry powdery stuff he goes, finally coming to rest beside a palm tree 40 feet up the beach. Calmly the boater steps out of the dinghy ties it to the palm tree and heads to the restaurant with not a drop of briny sea water on him.

I don't know but it could be a little hard on the rubber dinghy bottom. Maybe we won't try that one. It looks exhilarating though.

Tomorrow morning we leave for Tenecatita.

* Please note: Our 2006 - 2007 travels will be recorded on a new blog site. This blog site will continue as a blook. New blog address ~ http://pacificjade.blogspot.com

Mija hailed us on the radio to ask if we saw the panga being sunk off our stern this evening.Nope, didn't even notice it. The day we got here the mexicans sunk several net bags of something heavy near our boat and now a panga. 2 Mexican Navy boats have been anchored among us and rumors of a possible drug bust are enough to get us going the next morning.

Up rolls the anchor while we savour our second cup of morning coffee and we leave the main harbour behind.

The plan is to anchor at one of the small islands a short sail away but the seas are unfavourable when we get there and the weather man is talking about the wind picking up later.

We stay at the tiny island anchorage long enough to prepare the boat for a trip out to sea and make some lunch for when we're underway then pull up the anchor for the second time today.

We'll head for Careyes (Kar ay es) a tiny anchorage about 4 hours down the coast. Since there's only room for 3 or 4 boats to anchor at Careyes we want to arrive fairly early.

Close to our destination we feverishly study the cruising guides and charts. Careyes is a relatively tricky entrance scattered with rocks awash, their presence revealed when the rolling sea churns through them. Rocks always make me nervous.

Following the cruising guide instructions we wait til we see the striped tower and line up our compass points and true to their promise we safely navigate our way into the cozy anchorage.

We drop an anchor off the bow and back up to a mooring buoy and tie the stern to the buoy. With the bow and stern anchor preventing us from swinging and holding us into the oncoming roll we set up house.


Once we're settled, happy hour begins aboard PJ and we sit in the cockpit with our cold cocktails and take in our new surroundings. We're the first to arrive and this is the way we dreamed it, quiet solitude, unobstructed views, schools of fish shimmering under the surface. Colorful houses and palapas dot the hillside and the surf slides gently ashore.



Minutes later the next boat arrives and drops a bow and stern anchor beside us. A big power boat that obscures our view and begins to unload their sea doo's. We grumble and roll our eyes then wave politely thankful for the quiet moments we had.

After supper and a swim we enjoy a nightcap and catch the lingering breeze in the cockpit.In the darkness from the deck of PJ the light from the point illuminates the seething rocks we had avoided. A chill rises up our spines as we observe the brightly lit, toothy maw we had avoided on the way in. We're safe for now ~ held fast at stern and bow but we still have to negotiate our way out of here in a day or so.



From shore, a pic of PJ with powerboat anchored alongside.

We stay and play in Chamela for 3 days swimming and dinghying and walking the beach. Fresh provisions are low so a walk into town (just a block from the beach) is on the agenda .

Choosing the hottest afternoon (or so it seems) to turn ourselves toward town we venture away from the beach. Up over the sloping embankment a sandy pathway takes us to the main road which looks completely deserted. Of course the Mexicans are smart enough to not be out walking on the scorching pavement at mid day.

We've heard that there is internet access at the hotel and turn right as we were instructed and trudge in the oppressive heat a block to the closed doors of the hotel. We knock and the door is answered by a young woman who speeks only Spanish. In our best Spanish we eventually make her understand that we are looking for internet. She informs us with much head shaking and pointing that the only person who knows how to do the computer stuff is in Guadalajara and will be back late in the day. (at least that's what I think she said). So much for e-mailing our families to let them know we're safe.

Still trudging down the dusty road about a block farther on our left is a little tienda (store). No fresh provisions but they do have a cooler of blessedly cold water. We've walked the equivalent of two blocks and each of us drains a litre . And if a little of the chilly water dribbles down our chins and shirt fronts, so much the better.

Seven blocks further down the road we find the tiny butcher store and purchase a roasting chicken, all cleaned and pimply.

Making our way back toward the beach and our dinghy we stop at various tienda's and purchase limes a pineapple, potatoes and salad vegetables. Oh yeah, and beer.

All the provisions fit neatly in the backpack which is slung over Joe's back. Thankfully the road we've been on runs parallel with the beach. We take the beach route back and cool our steamy feet in the ankle deep water. The sea breeze makes the going easier and the pineapple top poking out of the backpack sways rhythmically as Joe gains speed. The promise of a cold beer under the shady palapa awaits.

The stagnant heat of the street is almost forgotten as we squeeze a juicy lime into our frosty beer. From here we can pursue one of our favourite passtimes. Watching Pacific Jade as she rests at anchor in the bay. No time to dawdle though, we must get our provisions home.

Cooler now, we push the dinghy off the shore execute a perfect launch into the surf and head home . We're learning.

I just have one question. What do you do with the chicken feet?

The mercury sea gleams as it rolls in a long easy stride. From my perch in the cockpit A turtle back occasionally dots the smooth surface, head periscoping left then right then disappearing under the blue green water. There was a smidge of wind at sunrise but less now. The main and mizzen sails are flying but only for the purpose of steadying P.J. as she rolls along the surface.

We left Ipala about an hour before sunrise and expect to arrive at Chamela in the late afternoon. This'll be our last long day for a while. Once we reach Chamela the rest of the anchorages are relatively close to one another.

The weather is definitely more tropical here and the heat of the sun defies the breeze's feeble attempt to cool us. By afternoon we've removed all but our hats in an attempt to allow the air to move over our toasted skin (sorry no pictures)

Mexico's coast is a pencil thin line dividing sea and sky 10 miles in the distance. No other boats are visible from horizon to horizon Never have we been so secluded and self dependent. Reading, ruminating and relaxing fill the morning and early afternoon. "Uncle Otto" our trusty auto pilot, mans (or persons) the helm.

On mornings like this when the seas are benign and the new sun warms my skin a feeling of well being settles upon me. It is the very feeling that mankind is constantly trying to replicate with various potions.I posess this feeling now as Pacific Jade conveys us to the next destination and a gentle breath caresses my face and bare limbs. I am deeply grateful to be in this place at this time.

The fishing line Joe has in the water catches three mackerel who are all thrown back after a quick reference to the fish book deems them "poor edibility". The zinging of the rod draws our attention to a booby bird flapping and splashing along at the end of the line. After numerous attempts she has caught the prize at the end of the line .. or so she thinks. Joe drags the booby to the boat, untangles the frazzled and frightened bird from the line and releases her. Once free she immediately begins stalking the lure again. Boobys are not known for their amazing intellect.

Once, the radio crackles to life with the familiar call "Pacific Jade, Pacific Jade this is Defiance " Just a friendly phone call from the power yacht that had anchored just behind us at Ipala, the only other boat we've seen today.

Late afternoon we coast into Chamela a beautiful and spacious anchorage where as many as 50 boats can rest. The lovely protected bay is almost surrounded by a semi circular sandy beach that stretches in a curve miles long. Small islands dot the bay and provide shelter for 1 or 2 boats here and there.

We anchor in a place where we hope to have some privacy for deck showers on one side and quickly stow the underway gear and set up house. We plan to spend a few days here so the dinghy gets splashed into the water. We cook our evening meal (sadly not fish) and retire.

This morning we're dinghying to shore. We've never landed the dinghy in the surf before but how hard can it be? Although there is definitely a surf it looks fairly small from the deck of our boat.

The surf that looked easily manageable from the boat looks much bigger as we approach our selected landing area. We had asked some fellow cruisers as they floated past our boat in their dinghy where to land the dinghy. Cautiously we make our way to the specified area and watch as the surf crashes onto shore. Inching our way forward we approach the shore and the sea rhythmically lifts the dinghy and drops us downward then lifts again as the next wave of seawater passes beneath us. Once you pass the point where the waves start breaking you have passed the point of no return and you'd better scramble. We know that now but as we approach, caution is our main concern avoiding the rocks scattered over the bottom.

As we hesitate for mere seconds the dinghy turns itself side to the waves and there's a big hummer coming.....fast. We have just enough time to realize what's going to happen before the rushing, cresting wave slams against the side of the dinghy, lifts the port side and completely turns the boat over, dumping us into the churning surf.

Without missing a beat before the next wave has a chance to come crashing over us we're up and have the dinghy turned and are running up the beach one dragging each side of the dinghy. Then dripping and wearing one flip flop I wadedinto the water to retrieve our stuff and gather what little is left of my dignity Unable to find my other shoe I leave the one in the dinghy (right side up of course, so not to attract any bad luck, more salty superstition), and we carry on barefoot.

A knot of Mexican fishermen look on barely able to keep a mirthful expression from tugging at their features. One even offers these helpful words "you don't do it like that". That much we had already figured out.

A most undignified landing brings us tumbling onto the beach in Chamela but hey, we met some new friends, Erik and Terry on the beach. We're anchored next to them and they gave us some much needed dinghy landing tips... and, I was planning on a swim today anyway.....

As always 0200 arrives early. This morning finds us both bustling around the boat preparing thermoses of hot chocolate and coffee to warm our bellies in the damp, cool, darkness. All the safety gear is brought to the cockpit, life jackets and harnesses are donned and jacklines are strung along the length of deck. The engine thrums as we sip steaming coffee while we make our underway preparations.

True to our plan the anchor rolls onto the bow rollers at 0300. I take the helm, steer us out of the anchorage and point south while Joe finishes the stowing. Destination Ipala, a tiny fishing village just a few miles south of cabo (cape) corrientes . Having never traversed it we approach with utmost respect.

As we make our way across Banderas Bay we spot a speck of light off our starboard bow. We continue on course keeping a close eye on the ever growing light til we're pretty sure that it's a cruise ship going in to P.V. and that we are indeed on a collision course. Joe goes below to hail "cruise ship, cruise ship this is Pacific Jade off your port bow do you see us?" " Pacific Jade, this is the cruise ship, yes, we have you on radar" "Cruise ship are you heading into the bay?" "Yes Pacific Jade we are heading to Puerto Vallarta" "Thankyou cruise ship we will alter course at this time and pass on your stern, Pacific Jade clear" "Thank you Pacific Jade, Cruise ship clear"

We make a slight course change to avoid colliding and the enormous, brightly lit ship passes harmlessly within a mile of us. Two very different ships passing in the night.

A pale glow in the east heralds the beginning of daylight as we approach the cape and the sea, although a little choppy and rolly, is really quite friendly. As the day moves toward us we stretch out in the cockpit, the sea's motion has tipped Joe into a doze and lulled me into a trancelike state. Pitch, roll, up, down, pitch, roll, up, down, nudge.........Nudge? Wait a minute! That's not right. The break in the monotony wakes Joe and brings me to attention and we both kneel looking over the stern in time to see the giant wing of a manta ray stroking the air as he rolls out of the way.

Manta rays grow to as big as 20 feet across and carry enough bulk to render a noticeable nudge to a 36,000 pound boat. He must have been dozing on the barely lit surface when we hit him. Hope we didn't hurt him.

Just as planned, we round the cape at sunrise before the wind wakes and makes the rounding less than pleasant. late night or early morning passages generally make more pleasant roundings and some sailors pay more attention to the time of day than the weather when planning .
Once clear of Cabo Corrientes the wind picks up and we sail downhill toward Ipala in the bright sunshine. Congratulating ourselves on a relatively uneventful passage around the cape we glory in the freedom of having made it to Mexico's Gold Coast area. The scariest part of the trip (or so we think) safely behind us for now. It's all downhill from here. Til we have to go back that is, but we won't think about that now.

Where is it? It's supposed to be here Joe says after checking the charts and our position. We find ourselves facing what appears to be an unbroken line of reddish bluffs. Joe takes a reading from the GPS and determines a course " the GPS says go 046". I alter course to 046 on the compass and we proceed as the bowsprit proudly points the way to a break in the bluff that forms a small anchorage. A cozy little fishing village unfolds as we round the rocky point.

There are no other pleasure craft anchored in the small bay although there is room for 5 or 6. The first boat to arrive, we drop the anchor in 33 feet of water and survey our surroundings. Fishing buoys strung along the left side of the bay hold nets afloat and a number of pangas bob, riderless, among them. Fishermen, their morning catch cleaned and stored, sit in small groups on a jetty laughing and drinking beer or coke while mending their nets. Their children, happy to be near them, playing at their feet. A handful of adobe and cement houses lie scattered along a red dirt road that winds up a dusty, cactus dotted, hillside. Primitive, open air structures serve as restaurants close to shore. Between the rock and dirt bluffs a patch of sandy beach glistens as the surf slides back toward the sea.

"Catch the Wind", with whom we made radio contact when we were about 8 miles out comes in 30 minutes or so behind us. By mid afternoon there are 5 boats anchored in the bay that offers good holding and shelter from the north.

Ipala is ideally located between Cabo Corrientes and Chamela (the next good anchorage) for sailors to wait out weather when going around the cape and to take stock and rest when going south. Some 20 years ago, the story goes, the residents discouraged sailors from taking refuge here by opening gunfire on the boats. Yup, that would definitely be a deterrent.

They're much friendlier these days and by the time 4 boats have dropped anchor a panga full of children came alongside each of the boats. Juan, the swarthy fisherman who is driving offers to pick us up later and take us to his family's restaurant on the beach. Yay, that means we can go ashore without unloading the dinghy. It's been a few days since we've been off the boat and we'd really like to stretch our legs. We make arrangements to have Juan pick us up in an hour so we have time for a walk on the beach and a little exploring before supper.

Below, we find some pencils and paper and distribute them to the thankful children before they make their way to the boat next to us. School supplies, clothing, ball caps, small toys and candy are all coveted gifts among the villagers. Next time we'll be better prepared.

Along with our 3 new friends Sam and Suzie from "Catch the Wind" and Vic from "Procrastinate" we have a fabulous fish supper and swap tales 'til after dark. Our bellies full and weary from a day at sea, Juan deposits us at our respective boats in the starlit anchorage.

Chamela is our destination tomorrow and we intend to spend a few days there. We make preparations for an early departure. It's been a long, wonderful day.

After 17 days tied up to the wall it's time to head south. Bill and Mary Jane on "Gray Max" watch as we make preparations to leave and call on the radio to offer assistance. Joe removes the bow line and Bill and M.J. maneuver their dinghy between the concrete wall and PJ and nudge the pointy end of the boat out into the harbour. This makes the turn in the confined space much easier. Joe lets the stern tie go as I put the engine in gear and with a wave we were off again, sorry to leave behind new friends but happy to see the last of the stinkin' wall.

Once I navigate our way out the harbour entrance we feel as free as the dolphins that greet us along the way. From this point we have no real schedule and we don't plan to dock at a marina for at least two months. We hoist the sails and set a course for the tres marietas (the three little marias) a trio of tiny islands that lie at Banderas bay's entrance. Although not suitable for overnight anchoring this is a wonderful stop for a day sail.

The word around the marina is that the whales are very active right now and before P.J. has even warmed to her journey we sight them waltzing on the waves. Their massive backs gleaming as they gracefully surface then submerge , dark dorsals prodding the air then dipping into the dark blue brine. Breathy exhalations clearly audible in the quiet morning as steamy geysers spew skyward.

The air stirs just enough to keep the sails full and propel us slowly across the bay and the waves slurp softly against the hull. Trailing along behind is Joe's fishing line (maybe we'll catch a really slow fish). The distant pop, pop, pop of a helicopter punctuates our bubble of silence .This is bliss, traveling at the whim of the wind and weather and making our plans on the go. A large swell and crashing surf make it unwise for us to leave the boat and go ashore when we approach the tres marietas. We take a look at the inviting beach and caves carpeted with sugar white sand and reluctantly turn our vessel away and head for safe anchorage at Punta Mita.

As we leave the Marietas behind our attention is caught by a large patch of creamy green water just off our starboard bow.We veer off sharply thinking that an uncharted rock lies there. Holy s**t! (pardon our spanish) we yell as a humpback whale rises completely out of the sea at our stern remaining suspended momentarily while we view his exposed speckled belly then tips slowly sideways and falls crashing into the broth, leaving a patch of creamy green sea behind.

WOW! In every direction we cast our eyes there are whales spouting, surfacing, displaying fins and flukes and rising out of the waves, crashing and splashing as PJ bobs among them like a crunchy crouton in a briny bowl of whale soup. The antics continue through the afternoon and even once we're anchored at Punta Mita we continue to be entertained by whales leaping in the distance.

With our anchor resting on the sea bed 24 feet below, we wait for weather that will make for a relatively comfortable trip around Cabo Corrientes, the cape that extends off the south point of Banderas Bay. Almost any cape needs to be approached with caution as the winds and seas can build to dangerous heights at these outcropings. Corrientes means currents and these along with the wind can make this point uncomfortable and even dangerous. When heading south or north this is one of the points where patience can make the difference between a comfortable or uncomfortable passage or even making it at all. Punta Mita is a jumping off point and more than half of the boats anchored here are waiting for suitable weather to head north, south or across to the Marquesa's.

It's going to be a day or two til a good weather window arrives, enough time to get some boat projects done. Joe masks up and goes over the side with a scraper and boat brush to clean the bottom and scrape the propeller. Schools of small tuna startle and scoot away as Joe makes his noisy entrance.

We've noticed a vibration while motoring underway and hope that scraping the barnacles from the prop will minimize it. Even a couple of weeks in these tropical waters allows a slimy growth to adhere to every surface beneath the water line. The murky waters of marinas and lagoons speed this process and the very murk that creates the problem is a deterrant to submerging ones self and addressing the problem while there. Give it a month or two and crusty creatures can set up entire colonies.

While Joe scrubs the bottom the school of tuna slowly filter back to the boat surrounding him and offering colorful companionship. I stay on top and pass and retrieve various tools and brushes. We talk and pass the time during Joe's brief rests between dives. His longest time under the water is 20 seconds ( probably those cigars) .

Swimming, cooking, boat projects, playing and planning the trip fill the day and a half spent waiting. Joe dangles a line over the side trying to tempt a tiny tuna with a bare hook. Laughingly I tell him "those little fish aren't going to bite ". Still, he persists and a couple of hours later, disappointed, he brings the line in. With a splash and a plop an 8 inch bit of silver and yellow lands on the deck just minutes later. "I got one!" Joe whoops as he rescues the slapping fish from his shallow puddle , quickly determines that he's much too small and returns him to the sea. Yep, sometimes they just jump right on the boat. Hope the whales don't try that.

The weather is ripe for the passage around Cabo Corrientes.

To bed early, we'll leave around 0300 hrs .