15 Knots South

It’s been a few weeks, we set south from San Diego with an old sailboat we bought a year ago for 3200 dollars with 3 other good friends. If you told me then I’d be sailing the same boat south in one year toward the turquoise waters of the equator, it would have been to much for me to handle. The days role by out here like these waves, they just go on their own, I can’t keep track, and there’s no need to keep track. Right now I’m sitting next to the cockpit, starboard side, facing the stern. The froth in “Flo’s” wake is floating steadily to the horizon, our speed is great, not top speed, but maybe 5 knots (almost 6 MPH.) With the wind at our back, we’re on a southbound “Manta-Ray” tack (our blood red spinnaker sail is full on the port and our white mainsail is full on the starboard.)

Behind us is Cedros Island, rising out of the ocean 4000 ft, slightly green with low growing chaparral. We left Cedros this morning at 6:30 AM. I was sleeping in the v-berth bed, when I heard, “hey Mark, the wind is great, and there’s no waves, wanna head south?” I jumped out of bed uncharacteristically awake, “let’s sail!” I shouted. While I took the sail cover off and cleared the deck Jordan paddled the yellow kayak to shore with our charcoal bag to collect the remains of last night’s beach fire for future BBQ’s on our boat, it was mostly ash. Twenty minutes from the time I woke up, our anchor was pulled, our mainsail hoisted, and without turning on our engine we drifted south, no jarring engine noise to pollute the perfect beach with 5 date palms clumped at a spring.  We could still hear the gentle gushing of the waves on the beach and the frogs croaking in the spring as we said hasta luego to the historical anchorage called Las Palmitas (the little palms.)

It’s now 3 PM and the island is 30 miles behind us, thanks to the 15 knot winds. Jordan is at the helm, La Sierra trucker hat, orange tinted blue blocker glasses, and a pastel pink, blue and green striped tank-top hanging around his nose, mouth and chin like a bandit, keeping the sun from his skin that has evolved for the northern woods, not the sun-soaked Mexican ocean. A week ago I wouldn’t have believed that I would be able to write in these 4 foot swells without getting sick, I guess I’m adjusting, and what a relief.

Ten miles to our east lies desolate Baja California, various shades of light-brown and dark-brown bony earth are illuminated by patchy sun. The sky is mostly covered by clouds, and to our east the sun is blasting through in a fan of silver rays, salmon colored horizon indicating the coming of night. After listening to the weather report we decided to shoot past a common anchorage for cruisers (Turtle Bay) tonight and just sail down the coast. We can’t resist a week of 15 knot wind coming from the north, and the south is calling. I don’t know what’s ahead, but I’ve got a good feeling as I take over the helm.