We made it to Mexico, which feels like a significant milestone. We woke up at 1am to depart San Diego in hopes of arriving Ensenada in the daylight. It’s always nice to enter an unfamiliar harbor in the daylight, unless Tim’s going to park the boat, then I’m fine arriving in the dark :-) We motored until sunrise, when the wind kicked up and we raised the sails. We were able to sail the rest of the way to the Ensenada breakwater, about 8 hours on a run with just the jib up. As we pulled into the harbor, it turned out that there was a sailboat in our assigned slip, so it was certainly helpful to arrive in daylight. We did a quick U-turn and pulled into an available side-tie to sort out the confusion and then pulled into our new slip. The Mexican Health department was there as we tied up the boat to take our temperatures and ask Covid questions before we were allowed off the dock. I was impressed.
The next morning we completed our entrance formalities, which involved almost three hours of paperwork and much stamping of stamps. With that step finished, we were free to roam the town and it was fun to see, hear and smell the sensations of a foreign country. Oswaldo, an employee from the marina who drove us to the Port Captain’s office in town, gave us a brief tour of town on our way back to the harbor. Of significance, he pointed out the enormous Mexican flag in town and proudly told us that it is the 3rd largest flag in Mexico. We also asked him for a restaurant recommendation and were disappointed to hear him suggest a pizza place. We redirected him to advise us on a Mexican place and he pointed us to a great little restaurant where we went that night. Nothing fancy, but it seemed like really good, authentic food.
Back at the dock, we ran into a minor celebrity, Gary Webb. You’ve probably never heard of him, but he’s the man who, along with Patrick, built our boat. Gary did much of the welding on our steel hull. I don’t have much experience with welding, but I am reminded of Gary’s skills every time someone with an eye for welding comments on the impressive job he did. Gary lives on his boat (also a steel hull) in the Ensenada Harbor. He seems to be a part of a significant ex-pat community of sailors in the Ensenada area.
It feels to me like we have turned up the adventure by a notch now that we have left the US, with fewer resources like weather forecasts and internet access, cultural differences and language challenges. International travel frequently reminds me of how good we have it in the States. From little things like the quality of the sidewalks (there are gaping holes here, ready to swallow your lower leg on every block) to the pervasive military presence on city streets to the baffling level of bureaucracy. It makes me appreciate how lucky we are in the States.
After two nights in Ensenada Harbor, we headed south about 100 miles to Bahia San Quintin, one of the few reasonably sheltered bays along this coast. We are currently riding out a storm while at anchor in this wide bay. Last night we were up several times during the night to assess and adjust our anchor in the 25-knot winds. The storm continues today and we are bobbing and swinging in continued winds. The forecast suggests that the storm will fade around sunset tonight which could afford us a night of better sleep.
One of the exciting events on our way to San Quintin was the catching of our first fish! We picked up our fishing licenses while in Ensenada (in Mexico, everyone on board needs to have a license, not just the person fishing) and on our first time trolling the line behind the boat, we caught a Skipjack Tuna. The landing of the fish was highly comical, since none of us really knew what we were doing. As someone mentioned to us several weeks ago, one way to kill the fish once it is on board is to pour gin into its gills. So we grabbed the gin bottle and dutifully poured some into the fish’s gills with questionable success. Tim thought the gin method was the most humane way to kill a fish. Given the free and plentiful liquor supply, the fish probably thought it had died and gone to college. With the fish still flopping about, we also used a winch handle for a more traditional method of subduing it. Afterwards, up on the foredeck, Tim had the filet knife in hand while I read step-by-step instructions from The Cruiser’s Guide to Fishing. Sue was surprised by our lack of experience and mentioned, “What kind of boys are you? You don’t know how to filet a fish.” We had a delectable dinner that night.
Wow! This is all so cool! Death by Gin actually sounds like one of the worst way to go…
Congratulations on making it to Mexico!