A Life in the Making

2007-01-11T08:57:00.000-08:00

To view our most recent travels aboard Pacific Jade please visit our new blog at

http://pacificjade.blogspot.com/

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

2006-12-03T10:27:00.000-08:00

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

2006-10-18T11:11:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-09-25T10:16:00.000-07:00

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?

2006-06-22T08:32:00.000-07:00

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.....

2006-05-11T08:25:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-04-09T07:55:00.000-07:00

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 .

2006-02-28T09:44:00.000-08:00

A Trip to Puerto Vallarta

It's time to check out Puerto Vallarta which is actually in a different province even though you never leave the Banderas Bay area. A 30 minute bus ride on two busses takes us from Nayarit to Jalisco. The first bus is what a friend would call a sofa bus. Sofa busses are air conditioned and have comfortable, often reclining, seats. They are clean, fairly new and more expensive than chicken busses. Chicken busses are none of the above. Although I have never actually seen a chicken on one of these busses if I were going to bring a live chicken home (for whatever reason) this is definitely the kind of bus I would choose. I never feel more like I'm in Mexico than when I'm riding on a chicken bus. Bouncing along in the standing room only bus we come to our first stop, a little cigar shop that Bill and Joanne are anxious to show us.

The shop is run by a family who grows the tobacco and cures then hand rolls it. Oh yeah, they make tequila too, that they share with their favourite customers. While we sniff the various hand rolled cigars and make our selection (Joe seems to have forgotten that he just quit smoking cigars). Out come the tiny shot glasses. Much nodding and smiling ensues while we sip the smoky concoction. Now any fragment of memory that may have been lingering in Joe's mind about the not smoking thing has just flown out the door as he pays for his selected package of cigars. He swears that he's figgered out how he gets hooked on them and he's not going to do that again. (I thought that it was smoking them that got you addicted but apparently not)

We mosey down the streets (carrying our bundle of cigars) stopping to look in various shops selling everything from home woven tablecloths to pottery and glassware to clothing. Making purchases from time to time and keeping some shops in mind for the future. The rule of thumb about bartering here is if you're in a store with prices marked on items, they rarely negotiate the price downward unless you're purchasing multiple items. If you are buying from a vendor on the beach, ask the price of an item that interests you and start by offering half of the requested price. I usually have a price in mind that I'm willing to pay for a given item before I begin negotiating. I am also aware that this is how they make their living and I want to pay a price that's fair to both of us. On the other hand I have no trouble walking away (often with the vendor in pursuit agreeing finally with the price I am willing to pay) when it looks like I won't get close to the price I'm willing to pay.

Food stands dot the cobbled streets and serve hot tacos, tostadas, chilis relenos and the like. Contrary to all the warnings we have recieved, none of us have become sick from eating at these primative stands and their food is delicious. We each order 2 fish tacos (fish tacos have quickly become a favourite of ours) with pieces of battered deep fried fish folded into a fresh taco. Onions, lettuce, salsa and hot sauces are available with which to garnish your taco and we sit eating them on the steamy street corner with the juices dripping down our chins and hands.

After a little more shopping the guys think it's time to stop for a drink, and we must keep the guys happy. It's amazing how much more animated they become when we're looking for a beverage rather than a table cloth. Giddy as 2 boys they lead the way 'til we find an enchanting little bar that has a pina colada special, 2 for 35 pesos or about $3.50. The breeze wends through the open space while the overhead canopy of greenery provides welcome shade. We settle our hot bodies down for a break and all order the pina coladas which are whirred in a blender to a slushy consistency. Soon the 4 of us are clutching our heads to try to relieve the freezer brain.

Once refreshed our quest leads us across the swinging bridge that spans a shallow, tumbling stream. An open air market shaded by huge trees awaits us on the other side. This is a bartering market where much good natured negotiation takes place and real bargains can be found. As Joanne and I shop our way through the marketplace, Joe and Bill move from one shaded bench to another to keep us in sight.

Another refreshment stop then a walk along the malecon (sea wall) stopping here and there to purchase necesseties, snacks and drinks. Before we know it the sun is taking it's nightly dip in the pacific and the welcome cool settles upon us. With our knapsacks full of the day's treasures we climb onto a chicken bus and begin the journey home.

2006-02-06T13:00:00.000-08:00

At sun up we weigh anchor leaving "Tica" and Punta de Mita behind. "Tica" has reservations starting tomorrow so will remain at Punta Mita another night before making their way in. Christmas is only 3 days away and all reports are that there is no room at the inn (or marina in this case). Having no idea when we would leave we were unable to make reservations until it was much too late. Undaunted we chug hopefully toward firm holding at one of the 3 marina's . The sea is much more kindly today as we set a course that takes us directly toward the rising sun. P.J. is bathed in the shimmer that the sun casts on the water as though our destination were some mystical unseen place over the fiery horizon. Again picking our way through the fishing boats that dot the bay this time it's the sun making it difficult to see the boats.

"There's a whale! Get the binoculars!" " Forget the binoculars, get the camera that one's just the baby." "Holy cow would you look at the size of that mama." As she surfaces for a huge lungful of air we're filled with awe, the camera forgotten in Joe's hand as we gape at her seemingly endless expanse. Mother and baby feeding in the visible line where current meets current, ignoring our presence as they sustain their mass on the sea's abundance. Looking fore, aft,starboard and port for the next glimpse when they submerge for a time. As we squint at the undisturbed surface coasting in neutral our course unimportant for the moment, mama surfaces close enough to alarm us, her young charge close beside her. "We're going to hit her, put the boat in gear" Joe shouts from his post on deck. Of course the whale knows exactly where we are by the thrumming sound of our engine and is in little danger of an unwanted collision. In all liklihood she's enjoyng the shouts of alarm their presence produces.

About an hour out I call the harbour master at Marina Nuevo Vallarta and ask if he has a place for a 40 foot sailing vessel. The answer, as expected, is no. OK, plan B. With fingers crossed I ask "Do you have a place where we could tie up for the day?" Pause, "Yes Pacific Jade you can tie up at the concrete wall on the west side for the day" Yay, this means we can get a start on our check in, buy fresh vegetables and other necesseties. We'll anchor at la cruz for the night if we must. At the helm Joe smiles and sets our course. We have a destination if only for a few hours "Thank you Marina Nuevo Vallarta, we'll be there in an hour".
Juan, the harbour master meets us a the dock and informs us that we can stay the night if we wish. Happy news for us, we'll be able to do a little Christmas shopping as well as the tedious paperwork. We quickly tie up and rush to get a start on the paperwork and Christmas preparations.

It turns out that there is no rush. Our 1 day stay becomes a 17 night stay. During the night a powerful surge makes the harbour entrance treacherous and a creaky night ensues as our fenders grind noisily against the dock. Joe is up numerous times adjusting lines and fenders to keep the heavy encrustation of oysters, barnacles and mussels from raking the side of our boat.

During our stay here the tides grew to 7 feet (7 foot difference between high and low tides) and keeping P.J. from being ground to a pulp or crushed beneath the concrete dock as the water level fell lower than the concrete became a constant job for Joe. Eventually he kedged us off with 2 anchors (set anchors out to the side to keep P.J. away from the dock) but even they required constant adjustment.

Our friends aboard "Tica" are unable to come in the next day. At anchor in Punta Mita they barely sleep in the rolling seas hoping their anchor holds. By the next day (Dec.24th) the entrance is once again navigable and a joyous margarita reunion takes place. Christmas eve is spent sipping margaritas (Bill has now perfected his recipe) beneath the banana and coconut palms and jumping from the hot tub into the cool crystal pool. We have the entire pool area to ourselves since everyone else has been here long enough to make other plans and Bill and Joanne are docked right next to the pool area.

Christmas morning dawns sunny and warm and we dig out the special coffee and foods that we've hoarded for this day. While sipping our hazelnut coffee we unwrap our gifts with delight. Even though we shopped for them together 2 days ago and know what each package holds we feel like a couple of kids and try on our clothes and play with our gadgets.

After our special Christmas lunch aboard "Tica" the 4 of us tuck our boogie boards under our arms and head for the beach.The afternoon is spent playing in the surf 'til our tired muscles can barely support us.
Christmas supper consists of Canadian tacos aboard "Pacific Jade" with all our favourite toppings. The merriment lasts until about 8:30 when exhaustion overtakes us all.

Our friends putt home in their dinghy with the phosphorescence twinkling behind them and we fall into bed thankful for a fabulous day and thinking of our family and friends in Canada.

2006-01-02T12:14:00.000-08:00

Reluctantly I drag myself from the toasty bunk to greet the early morning darkness. Coffee happily perks in the galley while the engine warms. I, on the other hand, am not as jolly as the bubbling bean juice. At this time of the morning it takes considerably longer for joy to overtake me. Joe is disgustingly perky as he prepares for day two of our south bound journey.

Our buddy boats, still dark, are barely visible through the blanket of wet fog that has tucked itself into the cove while we slept. Because our boat is heavier and somewhat slower we've opted to leave 2 hours earlier than "Tica". "Panache" is in no hurry and we may not see him again for days or weeks.

Once again free of our holding on the bottom, me at the helm and Joe below at the radar screen we guide our vessel carefully through the clutch of fishing pangas that dot the sheltered bay. Their tiny lights peek through the fog just as we near them, insufficient warning to negotiate around them. It's rumored that these trusting fishermen often sleep in their puny boats waiting for the fish to bite and we feel a crushing responsibility to pass by without harming them. Without the radar picking out their presence P.J. would now have a collection of Mexican fishermen adorning her bow. We strain our eyes to avoid colliding with them, our bowsprit pointing this way then that as we navigate around them in the dark and damp.

Not a breath of wind whispers as day breaks and we travel down the coastline. The waves have gentled some today and we're getting used to being at sea. Our feet have not touched land since we departed Stone Island nor will they 'til we reach Puerto Vallarta and complete the final strand of red tape. Officially, P.J. has not yet entered the country as a Canadian registered vessel. That final piece will be completed once we reach our destination and until then we'll not step on Mexican soil. It's a tangled but necessary step toward changing the country of registration.

To our left (to port) Mexico's rugged spine rises through the ubiquitous shoreline haze and appears to be as adrift as are we. The tops of the nearest peaks are clearly outlined against the sky then layer upon layer fading into the smoky distance. It's a mystical sight and one that many a camera lens has successfully captured.

Chugging through the windless day we're accompanied occasionally by small pods of dolphins. Sea turtles appear swimming lazily on the surface and off in the distance the spouting of three whales catches our attention. We scramble for the binoculars but catch only a glimpse. The water has taken on a more greenish blue cast and it is evident that we've moved into a more tropical climate. Shorts and T-shirts are all the clothing required. Up til today warmer clothing was almost always necessary when we were on the water.

Bugs are more of a problem down here and one must ensure that screens are in good repair to keep the little beggars on the outside of the boat. An abundance of palms nod their welcome as we near our destination of the day.

It's a little spooky as we come in closer to shore because the charts in this area can be as much as a mile off. When trying to avoid shoals and rocks as we approach our next anchorage the computer charts show us travelling on land.

Even though it's evident to the eye that we're definitely still on the water it's hard to trust the charts and you can't help but keep an ear tuned for the devastating crunch of the hull coming into contact with a hidden rocky outcrop and the subsequent rush of sea water filling the cabin. Fear of sinking our vessel causes us to chicken out and add an hour to our trip and go well around the hazardous area.

Right on schedule we arrive at Punta de Mita. This huge anchorage is at the northwestern corner of Banderas Bay which houses Puerto Vallarta and numerous snug anchorages. I would not describe Punta de Mita as a snug anchorge. Although it could accommodate hundreds of boats only a handful are actually resting here this evening. We drop the anchor a mile off the shore in the rolly bay and begin to cook a hot meal and await the arrival of our buds.

Just as we are about to sit down to supper in the cockpit "Tica" comes breezing by tooting a tin horn and shouting happily to announce their arrival as they circle "Pacific Jade" and anchor within calling distance. After our reunion we finish our wine in the cockpit while the sun sets, call goodnight to our friends across the water and retire below.

I've been having trouble loading the images at times. Soon you will have an image gallery to check out at our web site http://www.sailing-vacations-web.com/ Happy New Year everyone!

2005-12-27T14:18:00.000-08:00

Off We Go!This morning we leave Stone Island behind and venture into new territory. Of the three boats that are leaving - "Panache" a 43' Hans Christian, "Tica" a 38' Cabo Rico and our own "Pacific Jade" a 41' Seawolf ketch, none of us have ever sailed past this point.From my place in the cockpit I hear the rumbling of the anchor chain as Joe (with the help of the windlass) draws the anchor from the sandy bottom. "Tica" has just radioed us from around the corner and we are at the ready along with "Panache" to fall in as they round the point.

Now, free of the bottom we steer toward "Panache" for a short pow wow then out to the sparkling sea to rendezvous with our friends.As we leave Stone Island there is no wind and the glassy surface reflects our sturdy hulls. Wow! 5 foot wide manta rays leap clear of the water flapping their wings? arms? fins? well whatever, in a farewell frenzy. I'm sure it's good luck and bodes well for the souls aboard our vessels.

Leading the way, "Tica" is a beautiful sight with the morning sun bathing her port sides , her bow wake frothing before her and nothing but the gentle roll of the ocean beyond. A long row of pelicans, wings outstretched and bellies almost touching the gently rolling expanse search the beneath for unsuspecting snacks.

In the early afternoon dimples begin to form on the glossy surface, a clear sign that the wind is beginning to pick up, Then a ripple appears and the rolling becomes more pronounced. The wind has arrived. All three boats turn off the noisy motors and raise the sails.The sails are full, the boats heel over and but for the sound of the water rushing past the hull, blessed silence reigns.For a few hours we sail in relative comfort under a reefed mainsail, the small mizzen sail aft and the billowing genoa flying before us.

As late afternoon approaches the roll of the seas becomes more pronounced and it becomes necessary to hold fast even while sitting in the cockpit. Pitch, roll, yaw, roll, yaw pitch. OK, so it's not a major storm. Even a kiddie roller coaster can be too much after the 6th or 7th hour and this is no kiddie coaster.

Up goes P.J., down goes my stomach, Down goes P.J. up goes my stomach. Soon it's impossible for me to spend more than a few minutes below, the mal de mer is tolerable when I stay outside and watch the horizon. Fortunately, Joe has a stronger constitution and can easily amble about above or below so most tasks fall to him.

We bounce onward and the short, steep waves increase making it diffficult to stay in the cockpit. By cleating our lifejacket and lifeline clad selves securely into the cockpit we thwart the seas unfriendly attempts to toss us overboard.

Unable to sleep in the heaving cockpit I extract a vow from Joe that he won't venture forward without first waking me and go below to squeeze myself into our hastily made sleeping quarters on the stateroom floor. Joe has assembled a cushion between the drawers and wall which is just wide enough to tuck myself into. Sandwiched in my makeshift bunk as snugly as the cream filling between the biscuits of an oreo cookie I finally sleep for just over an hour without fear of falling off a bunk.

When I awake I first peek into the cockpit to ensure that my mate is still there. While it doesn't happen often, stories of partners waking for their shift and finding their partner is no longer aboard, having gone overboard during their solo watch never to be recovered, causes an unholy fear to descend upon all cruisers. Most couples have a pact that they will not leave the cockpit for any reason during their watch. How would you ever sleep otherwise?

Happy to see him sitting quietly in the moonlight I check the previously prepared thermos and prepare a cup of cocoa to warm me during my short shift and send him down for a sleep shift. If my stomach felt better I'd rebel against my tiresome plight and eat a bag of cookies but alas the cocoa will have to do. I do a short watch while Joe catches a few winks below and mercifully relieves me.

Joe has certainly carried the brunt of the load on this trip and just as he was feeling the pressure and telling himself that this overnight watch thing isn't much fun, a pod of about 20 dolphins appears and accompanies Joe and P.J. for 40 minutes or so. Cavorting alongside they'd seem to disappear then race to catch up and playfully dive under the boat and pop up on the other side.

At 0430 hrs I wake and peek into the cockpit again and begin the sunrise shift with a cup of now lukewarm cocoa. The seas have quieted and I'm feeling much better. Where are those cookies?

This is a watch I love. Beginning in the darkest part of the night the sun attempts to surprise us with the arrival of morning but gives itself away with a rosy glow from its hiding place behind the horizon. A bright neon crescent emerges and it's arrival nudges the darkness from it's throne as a fresh day dawns. The best part of the day in my opinion is sunrise when the world looks scrubbed clean and somehow more vivid than at any other time.

P.J. rocks very gently now and when Joe wakes we are able to brew a pot of coffee below without fear of the boiling pot being flung across the galley by the sea's temper. A hot breakfast in our bellies with the help of the sun's rays, coax the chill from our tired bodies and we begin to strip the heavy layers of clothing off. That's better, down to shorts and T-shirt again we drift toward the almost deserted anchorage where "Tica" and "Panache" await.

The only overnight leg of this journey is complete as the anchor rolls to the bottom of Mantenchen Bay and suddenly we're feeling pretty smart. Our friends greet us from the deck of their boat and once we've stowed our underway gear we pack a dry bag and leap into the bay and swim to "Tica" for happy hour.

Supper and to bed early because the next leg begins at 3:00 a.m. so that we arrive at Punta de Mita in the daylight hours.
G'night.

2005-12-17T09:19:00.000-08:00

The Big Day has arrived. After dreaming and working toward a life cruising on a sailboat we depart today to begin our first cruise down the Mexican Pacific coastline.

Pacific Jade is all abustle with activity as we stow and clean. Last minute weather forecasts have been listened to and interpreted and friends pop by every few minutes for a last visit. Many goodbyes we've said to our salty friends but this is the first time we've been on this end of the farewells.

Today we plan a 2 hour sail to Stone Island (la isla de la peidra) where we'll anchor for 2 nights awaiting our buddy boat "Tica". On Monday morning we'll pull anchor and sail alongside them overnight to an anchorage just outside Puerto Vallarta. We'll rest there for a night and refresh ourselves in the warmer waters and from there we'll head into Puerto Vallarta for a few days.

After that we plan to live swinging from our anchor for a few months in exotic places we've never laid our eyes on and commune with nature.

This time we'll be standing on the departing deck of Pacific Jade waving to our friends on the dock. As Pacific Jade boasts her gleaming white topsides and chugs happily past the docks filled with our friends calling "Fair winds and following seas to you" we'll wave back, and remember. Then look onward, and anticipate.

2005-12-09T07:59:00.000-08:00

Monday was the day we had reserved for acquiring our fishing licenses. We had been warned to reserve the whole day for the process and with good reason.

It starts with a bus ride on the Cerritos Juarez bus ( pretty drive) to the Sorianna store. From there we change busses to the Parque Bonfil bus. No one told us we should catch the one that said "directo" on it. We showed the bus driver our piece of paper with the name of the building we sought (or so we thought) written on it and with a nod he was off.

Apparently we had boarded the milk run bus. The driver negotiated narrow streets barely avoiding colliding with cyclists and palm trees while rounding tight corners. Down barely paved residential alleyways and over bumpy intersections. Sometimes in his own lane and sometimes with one hand on the horn and one on the steering wheel down the opposite lane.

The driving rules here are simple, if a bus is coming toward you in your lane while blasting his horn, get the heck out of the way. And they do.

We continued around and about 'til we had not a clue where we were or where we were bound. Finally we arrived in a more populated industrial looking area and after several more turns the bus driver indicated to us that he wanted to look at the paper again.

After much squinting and head scratching he asked the only other passenger (a young woman) if she knew where the building was. No, she said. Undaunted, the bus driver continued 'til he approached a pick up truck and handed the truck driver the paper. Needless to say we were getting a little worried by now.

The truck driver gave some directions to the bus driver who translated them to us in his best English and left us standing, bewildered, on the street.

We started back in the direction he had indicated and by chance came to be standing in front of a building that displayed a name other than the one on our piece of paper. Because it was a 3 storey building (which we knew we were looking for) and the word pescar (fishing) could be made out among the titles painted on the edifice we gave it a try and voila' there, on the second floor was the shabby government office responsible for selling sport fishing licenses.

The friendly, middle aged secretary asked us to sit in the rickety chairs provided and between her broken English an our broken Spanish we were able to piece together that we required 4 fishing licenses. One for Pacific Jade, one for the dinghy, one for Joe and one for me.

The cost for the licenses was 2,150 pesos (a little over $200. Canadian Dollars) but not to be paid to the secretary because that would be too easy. The fee was to be paid to the bank that was a three block walk away.

We took our number, 284 and looked up expectantly at the electronic indicator to discover that number 255 was currently being served. Oh, I said to Joe, that would be what the chairs are for. The waiting customers occupied chairs that were lined up in rows like they were at a movie theatre where the main feature was the 4 busy tellers attending to one client after another.

Once our enormous fishing license fee was paid we trekked back to the fishing license office and took up residence in the rickety chairs while the friendly secretary painstakingly typed forms and finally our 4 fishing licenses. No computers in sight here. The only technology being a battered typewriter and numerous sheets of carbon paper all residing on the rusty metal desk.

Finally we were the proud and tired possessors of 4 fishing licenses that allowed us to keep the fishing gear on board without fear of having our boat confiscated if the navy boarded us. A day long process.

Don't get me wrong, the apparent lack of progress is part of what we love about Mexico. If you're in a hurry you'll miss half the fun. As another cruiser said, manana (sorry, no tilde) doesn't necessarily mean tomorrow, it just means not today.

We didn't have the camera with us so I've posted a picture of a boat at the marina on a typical morning.

2005-12-03T12:30:00.000-08:00

Joe and I knew nothing of sailing or even boating for that matter when we chose this lifestyle. We made the decision on the spur of the moment and haven't looked back since. It began while we coaxed the knots from our muscles during our nightly soak in the hot tub. Before we left the tub that night we had decided that we would learn to sail and buy our own boat within 5 to 10 years. Because we knew absolutely nothing of sailing (or boating) the learning curve was steep and long and continues even now.
We considered several factors that led to the choice of sail over power. Sailing keeps a body active and demands that a brain remain engaged due to the skill required to employ the power of the wind. Also, being propelled by the wind is free and it's use has no negative impact on the environment. Sailing is quieter and less smelly than powering. A gentler and less expensive method of exploring the world that requires a close (and hopefully friendly) relationship with mother nature.Being self sufficient held great appeal for us both after years of rising heating fuel, gasoline, electricity and water costs.

Wind generators harvest the power of the wind and almost every cruising sailboat sports a solar panel or two to collect and store energy for use on the boat. Watermakers turn the abundant sea into gallons of potable water and kerosene lanterns adorn the living areas below so that one can live comfortably without the ubiquitous expenses that plague life ashore.
Cruisers are, after all a thrifty lot few of which have unlimited funds
We still have a diesel engine that can be used when the winds refuse to co operate and we must be somewhere, but it is only one option and we are rarely in a hurry. The diesel engine also supplements power aboard when the solar panels and wind generator can't keep up. The more electrical equipment aboard the more power required. The refrigerator (most of us have one) eats the most power and you can get by without one, but hey, we like a cold beer as much as the next guy and there are some sacrifices we're not willing to make.

When I look around our marina the abundance of masts and rigging is evidence that most cruisers down here are of the same mind as us. Above are pictures of life on dock 6. Pacific Jade currently occupies a slip half way down on the right.

2005-11-30T10:28:00.001-08:00

Above is a photo of how a sailing regatta looks from last place. In all fairness this was taken from a vessel with a heavy displacement that was not built for racing. In fact she was entered in the regatta only to shake her down before entering the next leg of a cruise down south. That and to give the guys a chance to swap stories while winching and hoisting and otherwise bonding.

As the sun came up this morn we sipped our coffee and watched as "Serenity" loosed the bonds that held her fast to the slip immediately behind us.

Like magic, activity on the docks ceases as she creeps past those of us left behind calling our farewells and standing in a puddle of our own thoughts.

As the wanderers pass by Pacific Jade, Debi, at the helm calls back to us "We'll look for you south" and with a wave of her hand another new friend is carried out of sight. Then, like a spell has been broken we take up the tasks that bring us ever closer to our own departure.

Maybe we'll see them again and maybe not. Such is the nature of the lifestyle, never knowing when or if you'll again encounter those who go before you or those you leave behind.

Good byes are a daily event as are hellos. No sooner was "Serenity" out of sight than the owners of "Spirit of Sidney" came rolling their possessions down the dock and the greetings and welcome homes rang out as they passed by old friends on their way to taking up residence once again at the end of the dock.

2005-11-27T13:52:00.000-08:00

Today, we relax. Joe has offered up his services as crew in the local sunday regatta with some fellow cruisers. The guys have broken loose from dock 6 for a day of sailing, sunshine and good old carmeraderie. Oh yeah, they're racing too. I wonder if they remember that. I got the distinct impression that the regatta was just an excuse to do some swaggering aboard.

I have stayed behind to read and write and enjoy the solitude provided by being more than 10 feet away from my beloved for a whole afternoon. A rare occurrence when we're living on board .

It's quiet on the dock today. The fish periodically hurl themselves clean out of the water, as though in some unseen fish olympics, leaving an ever widening circular ripple on the surface. As I sit below I can clearly hear the crackling noise of the sea life beneath us. A sound usually only audible as we lay down for the night. Occasionally I hear the ringing click of a winch hoisting a trusting captain aloft to attend to some maintenance up the mast.

But mostly it's silent and peaceful. A sleepy day at the marina following our huge pot luck and shrimp feed last night.

Joe will return sun browned with his beer drinking arm well exercised and we'll both feel renewed from the break. Tomorrow we'll tackle the next project and move ever closer to our departure day to hopefully meet our friends on Kelp Fiction in Tenacatita.

Above is a photo they sent us and what we're heading to.

2005-11-23T12:52:00.000-08:00

Well here we are on our boat in Mexico. It occurs to me as we sand and fill and paint and polish that one of the upsides of chartering is that someone else does all the grunt work.

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade this lifestyle for any other but those who think that it's nothing but fun fun fun all the time are misinformed.

I suppose that if you own a new boat the work is minimal but our boat is 30 years old and sports a wood cabin top and cockpit. Constant attention is required to keep her ship shape. And we want her to be proud and happy.

It isn't just us, the marina is bustling with sailors readying their boats for the winter leg of their journeys. Boats from the Baha ha ha are arriving here in Mazatlan from their departure point in San Diego daily.

From here some will jump the puddle and make the long trek to the South Pacific, many will head south to Puerto Vallarta, Barra de Navidad, Zihuatinejo and Central America. Buddy boating with like minded sailors to explore tiny fishing villages and exotic anchorages along the way. This is what makes all the work worthwhile and it can't be done on a charter yacht.

In the meantime, between coats of paint, we'll enjoy visiting with friends old and new and basking in the sun and sea.

Now, to decide what to do today. Lets see, we could dinghy through the canals that meander through the golf course or maybe walk barefoot along the beach til we've reached our favourite margarita bar, it looks like a good day to boogey board in the surf, perhaps we'll lunch under a palapa.................

2005-10-04T16:56:00.000-07:00

The plane leaves for Mexico in less than 5 weeks and our thoughts are on making ready for our 6 month stay on the boat. I'm literally writing the pages on "packing for vacation" as I make our preparations.

As I leave (permanently this time) my long time job as an EMT, my reflections are bittersweet. I have loved this job.

But then there's Pacific Jade our 41 foot sailing ketch. We'll be living aboard her on the west coast of Mexico for the winter. She's in Mazatlan right now so that's where we're headed.

We'll go where the wind blows us, probably down the coast a ways. Embrace old friends and welcome new ones. This is the dream and I can hardly believe I'm living it.

So, yeah I'm a little sad but I'll probably get over it.

I'll keep working on the website while I'm away and posting periodic blog entries when I have access to the internet. I'll also be snapping photos to share on the website and blog. Always thinking of my visitors.