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Out and about in the Hauraki Gulf

Apr 15th, 2013
by Sara.
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Rangitoto summit boardwalk, Auckland, New Zealand

After three months of being tied to our Auckland dock, we found ourselves staring at the long Easter weekend on our calendar and knew it was time to head out. While the temperature has cooled a bit here, the days continue to be long and sunny with the occasional rain squall thrown in just to remind us we are still in the South Pacific ocean. It took me a week to stow away all the land-life things that littered the boat: library books, school bags, art projects, shoes. Good Friday arrived and we munched on hot cross buns for breakfast (racks and racks of them were on sale at the grocery store and I guessed — accurately — that they were somewhat of a tradition here). We took off the sail covers, heaved off the docklines and returned to our sea-life.

Holly's lost her sea legs

Holly’s lost her sea legs

The wind was light and blowing directly into Waitemata Harbour so we worked our way out by (sigh) tacking. Going upwind displeases Wondertime so but she sailed on anyway. There was a little chop due to the opposing current, both of which slowed us down even more. But as there was only 8 nautical miles or so to go to our planned anchorage we didn’t mind.

After a dozen tacks we were finally free of Auckland’s inner harbour and officially in the gulf. Now, a little background might be in order here: it was morning when we arrived in Auckland last December after our overnight sail down from the Bay of Islands. I was still asleep after my dark early-morning watch and Michael didn’t call me up on deck until we were right off the city’s downtown. Michael himself had only been concentrating on our route through the channel and avoiding shipping traffic and hadn’t fully appreciated the view. This was the first time we’d really seen the Hauraki.

Our first thought was, now we could see why all our marina neighbors went out sailing every weekend! We were in a totally protected inland waterway, chock-full of sailboats but with plenty of room for us all to glide around. We were surrounded by islands indented on all sides with cozy anchorages; clearly the most difficult part of sailing around here was choosing one. It reminded us very much of the San Francisco Bay area but with volcanoes.

Islington Bay, Rangitoto Island, Auckland, New Zealand

Which is where we pointed our bow to drop our hook, in Islington Bay off Rangitoto Island, home of Mount Rangitoto which last erupted only 700ish years ago. The girls joined us in the cockpit for our final tacks toting a packet of crackers with them, both of them looking a little green after watching a movie in our bunk during the sail.

We still had an hour or two to go until sunset when we dropped the anchor in the crowded, but thankfully roomy bay. Michael and I cracked a couple of cold beers and relaxed in the cockpit, taking in the fresh and lovely view around us. Suddenly we were giddy like we hadn’t felt in months, like anything was possible. Here was our family right in our ever so familiar home but surrounded by a completely new world. I don’t think we’ll ever get tired of that paradox.

Exploring the Rangitoto lava caves

Exploring the Rangitoto lava caves

The original plan was to explore several anchorages in the gulf, maybe to sail over to Waiheke and see if it was really true that you could take your dinghy to a wine tasting. We’ll have to find out next time though as we spent all three of our nights at Rangitoto. The entire island is a nature reserve and is covered with tracks; we did our best to explore just a tiny portion of them. We were successful at reaching the summit with amazing views all around, including our new home-for-now city of Auckland. One of the things that has blown us away time and again in New Zealand is the quality of the public parks, tracks (hiking trails) and facilities and Rangitoto’s summit paths, lookouts, boardwalk and information signs were no exception. We peered into the volcano’s crater, currently covered with vegetation and wondered when it would erupt again. We crept through the dark lava caves formed from the last eruption– like something out of Indiana Jones, or well, Lord of the Rings I should say!

Mostly though we just enjoyed the peace and fulfillment of sitting at anchor in a place we had sailed ourselves to. Why do we seem to forget how much we enjoy this? But isn’t it wonderful that sailing only a handful of miles in a couple hours away from what is becoming familiar can seem so exotic and exciting. Maybe it’s the remembering why we like this so much again and again that keeps us exploring. And the feeling that all is right in our little world.

 Video: Sailing in the Hauraki Gulf

Rangitoto hike, Auckland, New Zealand

Leah sketches the Rangitoto summit marker

Leah sketches the Rangitoto summit marker

Wondertime family at Mount Rangitoto summit, Auckland, New Zealand

I think we’ve summited our first mountain!

Raft-UP: Staying Sane in a Floating Closet

Feb 17th, 2013
by Sara.
2 comments

Best friends, 99% of the time.

I’ve just joined in with the Raft-UP writing group; each month a group of sailing bloggers muses about a specified topic which is a great way for readers to get a whole bunch of different perspectives on aspects of the sailing life. This month we’re writing about maintaining relationships onboard our boats, which amounts to getting along in a space the size of a large walk-in closet, oftentimes with nothing around but miles-deep water.

This is not easy.

I’m not going to lie to you and say things like “we love living so close together each and every day” and “our girls never fight, they are always the best of friends.” That is just silly. We all fight on certain days, we all need our space at times. Michael and I have lived aboard sailboats together for the better part of the past 14 years and have become pretty adept at giving each other space (whether that means physical or mental) for a few hours when either of us needs it. Even though we need a break from each other at times, after only a few hours apart we miss each other terribly and reunite with a freshness that causes us each to spill over with all the news that the other has missed out on.

But sailing with two young kids has added a whole other complexity to the “getting along in tight quarters” conundrum. The problem is that kids need their space too and coordinating the needs of four separate people’s space and time to recharge has proven to be the most challenging aspect of sailing as a family.

Like any family ashore, it can be difficult to find the balance, as well as the timing, of having family time together as well as personal space and time for our own interests. We recognize that we are a family of introverts (although time is proving that Holly might be the first extrovert in generations!) and it is essential that each of us takes the alone time necessary to recharge our spirits.

Unlike a lot of families ashore we find that we have ample time together as a family but have trouble getting the necessary time in to ourselves. The biggest difficulty is proving to be the actual timing of each of us getting some recharging time. Just because I really need a few hours to myself doesn’t mean that the rest of the family does (more often than not it seems these are the times they need my attention the most!) The girls might be working happily on a project or reading on their own but sometimes that has to be interrupted to make an appointment or get to a shop or office before it closes. What happens is the time we need by ourselves gets pushed into the future until it gets to a critical point and tempers explode.

Leah and Michael spend a memorable day hiking together (Kitekite Falls, Waitakere Ranges, NZ)

Leah and Michael spend a memorable day hiking together (Kitekite Falls, Waitakere Ranges, NZ)

Over the past 18 months, here’s what we’ve been working on to make sure our family/alone time is balanced:

We take the time to recharge on our own rather than putting it off. As I mentioned before, it’s all too easy to put off alone time when there are so many amazing things to do and see together as a family while cruising. But we’ve learned that you can’t do it all; I hate missing out on beach explorations or snorkeling expeditions with the girls but find that I’m a much happier mom if every now and then I let Michael take them exploring for a few hours while I read or write or just putter around the boat on my own for a bit. We even have code words for this now: I tell everyone I need to “clean” and Michael says he needs to do “engine maintenance” and the rest of the family is happy to get out of the way for the afternoon.

Ditto with dates. Michael and I usually get out on a “date” about once a year and frankly, this is just not good enough. We need time with just the two of us to connect to each other and recharge our relationship as a couple, not only as parents. It’s difficult though to find people we trust with the kids since our neighbors are always changing as we travel. We’ve found that if we are presented with the opportunity to leave the girls with trusted friends for an evening to jump on it as we may not have the chance next week. As the girls get older too they are having more opportunities for slumber parties away and time with their own friends. Ahhhh!

Michael and I each need to spend time with Holly/Leah on their own. Recently we’ve been seeing the value of spending “alone time together” which means that Michael spends time with just Leah and I spend time with Holly and vice versa. The girls (and their parents) truly treasure this time to connect individually without the rambunctiousness that can happen when the four of us are all together. The girls don’t have to compete for anyone’s attention – she gets it 100% for a few hours and we all treasure these special times.

Helping the girls respect that her sister needs time on her own. With the girls getting older, this seems to be coming up more and more. For example, Leah is now an avid reader and enjoys spending quiet time in her bunk looking at books. Of course, Holly loves to hang out with Leah in her bed and look at books too but we’ve had to explain to her that Leah just needs some quiet time on her own. The corollary of this is that the girls have learned to state “I need some alone time!” which usually is only a few minutes in which to recharge while we respect her wishes.

Acknowledging that we are all going to have disagreements/tempers/heated emotions, but we need to deal with these respectfully. When we don’t get the time we need to recharge/connect/relax/be heard tempers can get pretty ugly around here. All four of us are working on respectful signals to use whether it’s time by ourselves we need, time with a parent or just pure-fun time with all four of us.

Of course, now that we are back in working/school mode we are finding plenty of time for ourselves and have joined the rest of society in missing our time together as a family.

 

Mom's Night Out, Carnaval de La Paz, Mexico (OK, the kids were around somewhere; the dads were in charge)

Mom’s Night Out with Windy of Del Viento, Carnaval de La Paz, Mexico (OK, to be truthful the kids were running around somewhere nearby on the dark & crowded streets; the dads were in charge)

 

Check out what other Raft-UP writers have to say this month:


Transitioning to the world of to-dos

Jan 3rd, 2013
by Sara.
5 comments
Wondertime girls at Roberton Island, Bay of Islands, New Zealand

Wonder. Time.

I realized yesterday what it is that has been driving me crazy lately. Anxiety has been creeping into my soul once again, a sense of hurry that starts as soon as I open my eyes each morning. The feeling that there is not enough time in the day. Going to bed each night thinking of what I didn’t get done that day and wondering if I can get it done tomorrow.

It’s my new to-do list.

One of our most favorite places in Auckland so far? The library!

One of our most favorite places in Auckland so far? The library!

I haven’t had a to-do list for well over a year now and as we head out of cruising mode and into – what? – work/school/errand/shop/whatever-you-call-this-not-moving mode I’ve starting making the lists that ruled my life before we spent all our days exploring little bits of land by sea. It seems there’s a lot to do to fit in to city life, and more importantly, make and spend money which is mostly what every metropolis seems about. I’ve got lists of things to buy, places to explore, homeschool activities to sign up for, items to complete for our work and student visas, books to read, blog posts to write, boat projects, appointments to make….

Did I not have these things before? What has changed exactly? Sure, some days were busy during our time in the islands. When we got to town there were provisions to buy, laundry to drop off, ice-cream cones to eat. Emails to write. Um. Hmm. I guess that’s it. Must be why I hadn’t had to jot down any tasks – there really weren’t any.

But we must have eaten a lot of ice-cream because here we are working on that cruising kitty again. And doing that in a new country requires a bit of red tape. And the price of not having a to-do list for a while simply means that quite a few things just got pushed into the future and we’ve finally met up with them. Then again, I just like making lists and tend to jot down any old thing that crosses my mind to do.

But then those lists tend to rule my days: I check my daily tasks in the morning and plan out how I’m going to get them done. The girls beg for pancakes but I make oatmeal again because pancakes take too long to make and clean up. I feel anxious when the girls want to get out the paint when I’m planning on heading out in an hour to the laundromat. Everyone wants to walk to the playground but I am struggling with the fact that I have 10 starred emails in my inbox…. By the end of the day I am exhausted and – of course – I check my to-do list and defer the four undone items for tomorrow.

Pt. Erin Community Pool

We love hot summer December days at the pool

One of the lessons that cruising has taught me is to take the lessons that cruising has taught me and bring them to the life we live when we are not moving. This one: that the best days are not the ones where I get the most things done. The best days are the ones without a list leading the way, where we just let the day unfold and explore the world however we feel that day and let whatever happens, happen. They are the days when we take the time to wonder.

We had such a day last weekend: Saturday morning dawned with a list of things we needed to do to go visit friends who live several hours up the coast for the weekend. We packed, made a treat to bring, showered. Out in the parking lot we found a screw embedded in the front tire of our car and drove out to a tire shop on the way out of the city (resulting in four brand-new tires to replace the bald ones). At noon, we found ourselves sitting in northbound traffic with the rest of Auckland’s residents heading out for a long New Year’s weekend. After taking nearly two hours to travel what normally takes 20 minutes, we phoned our friends and regretfully made plans to visit after the holidays. We felt terrible.

Nothing to do!It was a beautiful sunny summer December day so we headed over to the community pool for an afternoon swim. On the way home we got an invite from some new friends for a BBQ dinner at their Auckland home and drove over that evening. The wonderful visit and dinner culminated with a night stroll under the full moon to a park reserve near their home. We walked in the dark into the trees which led to rock caverns that were illuminated with the tiny fairy-lights of glowworms. It was absolute magic, an unforgettable evening for everyone. I couldn’t have planned that day if I tried and tried.

So this morning when I woke up I did the best thing I could think of to reduce all the weight these to-dos have been putting on my soul and our days: I started deleting them.

The view from our cockpit - our new playground!

The view from our cockpit – our new playground!

With her rust stains, chipped paint and bowsprit, Wondertime sticks out like a sore thumb amongst all the other slick and fast New Zealand boats. But we love her anyway.

Here’s Wondertime in her new Auckland slip. With her rust stains, chipped paint and bowsprit, she sticks out like a sore thumb amongst all the other slick and fast New Zealand boats. But we love her anyway.

 

Big Wind at Big Mamas

Nov 10th, 2012
by Sara.
4 comments

If there’s one thing we’ll always remember Tonga for, its the wind here. Glassy calm days, at least during this southern hemisphere springtime, are few and far between. If nothing else, it really makes us regret not putting a wind generator on the boat.

Anchored off Big Mama’s in Nuku’alofa, Tongatapu is not exactly the ideal place to ride out a major tropical depression. The bay is huge, 1.5 miles south to downtown Nuku’alofa and 5 miles of fetch to the west of us. The good thing is that the holding here is superb; it took quite a bit of muscling to crank our Rocna out of the sandy muck when the blow was over. There is an inner harbor with a breakwall you can stern tie to, Tahiti style, but we kept picturing boats piling up like dominoes as bow anchors dragged in the undoubtedly fouled harbour and chose to ride it out in the anchorage. (Thankfully, all the cruising boats whether in the harbour or anchored out  survived just fine with mostly just frazzled nerves.)

The photo to the right was taken on Tuesday afternoon. Here, you see cruisers playing Scrabble and riding the rope swing. One the far right side, just out of the picture are people swimming, taking shelter from the sweltering heat. Behind the picnic fale is a ping-pong table and volleyball court where we also spent time waiting for the weather to arrive. Mostly what we’re doing is talking about just that, the weather. A number of us were halfway to Minerva and turned around, wondering if this thing was going to materialize after all. Was it going to pass right over us as the models were predicting? How will the boats underway hold up? When will our weather window finally arrive? We are all very very anxious to finally reach N Zed.

The predicted tropical depression indeed arrived the following day. The typical SE wind shifted to the north as the depression approached Tongatapu but the wind was no biggie at around 15 knots. We sat below listening to boats underway south of us check into the Drifter’s net. Friends were starting to see winds in the 30-40 knot range. Our emotions were conflicted: we were very glad that we weren’t out in it but at the same time worried for the comfort and safety of the other vessels out there.

While we were reveling in the warmth of our safely anchored home, we heard the wind pick up outside, suddenly. Michael ran up to grab a bucket we’d left on the side deck. The next thing I knew he was shouting down at me “It’s blowing 50 knots out here!”

Here’s the story from our log book:

Noticed wind picking up here a few minutes before 1800 then suddenly a wall of wind hits us along with absolutely deluging rain. Can’t see a thing outside – everything white, spray and mist covering the surface of the water. Run around turning on GPS (off because listening to radio and it causes interference), depth sounder, engine. Boat absolutely pummeled by wind. Solar panels break free from tie down lines, flapping up and down. Dinghy hoisted alongside boat flies up against rigging as we’d feared it’d do. Wind hits starboard side, heels WAY over to port, rail underwater! Shit flying across boat below (totally messy from day in – not prepared for this type of blast at all!)

Wind then catches us on port and stuff flies in other direction, including HP laptop onto floor! M. finally gets oriented and motors into wind, but anchor appears to have held (have all 300’ of chain out in 60’ of water). Yell out to girls in forecabin if they are OK, they yell back they are fine, both in Holly’s bed. Tell them to stay put. M. is outside, soaking wet, securing solar panels and lines that got washed over. Rain leaking in ports, pours down back hatch when I open it to look out at wall of white.

Wind shifting from N to S to W so quickly. It’s probably only 5 minutes of crazy wind then calms to ~25 from W. Boats talking back and forth on VHF; everyone OK and in good spaces still. Aleris reports highest windspeed was 74 knots! Lightening now passing directly overhead, very scary.

Get busy cleaning up crazy mess now that worst is over – broken glasses on floor, entire bookshelf dumped on floor in forward cabin, toys, food, all covered with layer of rainwater. Counters had been emptied, cupboards flown open that we latch while sailing. Incredible!

Help M. secure sun cover flapping around but huge lightening flash overhead and we quickly jump below. Girls have moved into our bunk, playing with puppets and flashlights (now getting dark). They are just giddy with all the excitement.

What happens next is really eerie and kinda freaks out all of the boat crews. The wind dies down within an hour and it is completely still. The wind ceases, the sky clears and the stars come out. Like nothing had happened at all. Apparently the low passed right over Tongatapu after all and here we are right in the middle of it. What would happen next?

By 2 am however the wind indeed picked up again, and right from the west too as was predicted. With 5 miles of fetch the waves built quickly and by daylight Wondertime was bucking up and down unpleasantly in the 4-6 foot wind waves. We had 30-45 knots the whole livelong day. While I was cooking breakfast there was a pop and a shudder at the bow: our snubber had parted after holding our anchor chain for nearly 18 months straight. Michael and I spent the next two hours fashioning a replacement bridle-type snubber (our snubber attaches at the waterline to a bow eye and had simply exploded due to age and/or strain). The strain on our bow was immense and we had to get the replacement snubber lines just right so they wouldn’t chafe on our bowsprit whisker stays or bobstay. Long story short, it was a long long day constantly checking the snubber for chafe while being doused with sea water spraying over the plunging bow.

Happily the wind started to subside by dinner and we awoke the next morning to another peaceful sunny day with only a light SE wind rippling the water around us. We made it.

Tonight, the crews of at least 15 boats gathered again at Big Mama’s. While the shorter crews of the six (!) kid boats here chased each other around the palm trees, this time the adults chatted about how we’d fared during the big blow and celebrated making it through safely. And of course talked about the coming weather: it looks like a fantastic week to sail to New Zealand has finally arrived and all of us will be heading out tomorrow or Monday. We wished each other good luck and made plans for our reunion in Opua.

Both our bow snubber and our Tongan courtesy flag have seen enough wind, thank you. Besides these two items, the only other casualties onboard were two glass drinking glasses that broke. Our dinghy, solar panels and even our cheap old HP laptop (which I’ve wanted to throw to the floor myself many times) survived just fine. We later learned that the 75 knot wind blast was likely a microburst.

Making Friends With Uncertainty

Oct 1st, 2012
by Sara.
12 comments

Family and friends keep asking what is next for us, when this jaunt across the Pacific comes to a halt in New Zealand sometime in the coming weeks. We keep saying we don’t know, which is exactly true.

Right now, there are a few things we know for sure however:

  1. Cyclone season is upon us soon and it’s time to get out of the way
  2. We are really, really, really anxious for a draft IPA, jeans, a hike in the woods, and a real supermarket
  3. Our cruising kitty is down to its final dregs and it’s time to go back to work for a while

For a couple of people who like to have at least the next few years of our life mapped out, that’s not much of a chart.

We have far more questions than answers: will we be able to find work in New Zealand and then get the proper visas? Will we like NZ enough to want to stay for a few years? Forever? Will NZ like us? What city will we be living in? How is Leah going to adjust to regular school after a year of free-roaming school? How will we adjust to wearing socks again? Having cell phones? Having bills? Will we want to return to the Northwest and if so do we want to sail back or sell the boat and fly ourselves home? If we sail back, can we swing by Mexico? (I really really want a taco.)

We’ve been around long enough to know that the answers to these questions will be sorted out in time. Decisions will be made for us, things will happen. And we’ll have to make some tough decisions, too. We haven’t always been comfortable with so much ambiguity about the future; in fact, a few years ago we would have been a nervous wreck with so much uncertainty ahead. But now it feels rather invigorating, exciting even, at the unknown adventure that lies ahead, still.

Maybe it’s because we’re getting older and hopefully a little wiser. But I like to think that cruising has shown us how to be flexible, to go into the unknown without expectation and with an openness for whatever happens next. Most importantly, having faith that everything will turn out all right.

There is another thing we know and it actually surprises us a little, after being so positive a few months ago that we’d have had our fill of sailing after all these miles. We’ve been here in Tonga, spending a lot of time looking back over the past 16 months kind of disbelieving that we are practically at the end of this journey already. We’ve enjoyed the introspection that comes with being perched on the brink of the unknown. I thought for sure I’d be done with this ocean sailing traveling thing by the time we got here. But our quiet time in Tonga, with so much more of the world to see (Fiji! Vanuatu! Thailand!) just over the horizon has shown us that we haven’t got our fill at all.

Maybe what little we do know for certain is enough: that with a few more coins in our pocket, we could keep going and going and going.

365 Days Later

Jul 1st, 2012
by Sara.
6 comments

Wondertimers in Moorea (Photo by Tucker Bradford, S/V Convivia)

A year ago today, we woke up at anchor off Hope Island, our first stop after departing our former home of Olympia, Washington. This morning, we woke up at anchor 4000 miles away, in Cook’s Bay, Moorea.

What a year this has been.

Departure day, 29 June 2011

We spent some time tonight looking back at some of the photos from a year ago. I was taken aback at how young the girls look. Holly has grown from a toddler to a busy, funny, imaginative little girl who absolutely adores her big sister. Leah especially has changed to me; her 6-year old self is so much more mature, more wise than the 5-year old we left with. The more she discovers about this world we are traveling through the more she wants to learn about it. We keep lists of things to look up on Google when we are away from the internet. She has struggled with the goodbyes that come with this life, trying to make sense of why we should leave such good friends behind. It used to take a while for her to warm up to new people but now she can make a fast friend in a heartbeat and strike up an interesting conversation with just about anyone. She adores her little sister, too.

Only time will tell how this journey will truly affect the girls, all of us, in our futures. We get clues every now and then as to how this time of traveling on the sea, seeing all the different – and similar — ways people live and speak, is shaping how they see the world.

Sailing on our way to Tahiti from the Tuamotus Holly asked me: “Mama, when are we going to be home?”

“What do you mean?” I asked her, a little puzzled.

“What I mean is, when are we going to be anchored?”

I realized that Holly, at 3, has already learned the lesson that it’s taken me 37 years to learn: that home is wherever the people who love you are.

Our current home, Cook’s Bay, Moorea

Our Pacific Crossing in Photos

Apr 15th, 2012
by Sara.
7 comments

We finally have been able to hook up to internet here in Hiva Oa and read all the comments you have left while we were at sea. Oh my goodness I had tears in my eyes so many times while reading them. Thank you thank you thank you for all the kind thoughts and words you all left on our blog. We couldn’t read them at sea but somehow, during the times we were so so alone out there we could feel all the people thinking about us and it was so comforting.

Here we go…a few photos of our 26 days at sea. (Hover over a photo to view the description, click on it to view in full size.)

Ready for the big old Pacific Ocean

Mar 8th, 2012
by Sara.
6 comments

Our friend and crewmember Matt, along with his wife Kristin, arrived in La Paz last weekend. This means several things: (1) the cockpit finally got cleaned out so they have a place to sleep, (2) the girls adore them both which has left Michael and I more time to prepare for the crossing, and (3) it’s nearly time for us to start our life-changing passage across the Pacific Ocean.

Kristin and Matt, our crew

Kristin will travel with us over the next week to San Jose del Cabo where we will check out of Mexico, complete a run to Costco, and load up our fresh produce. Matt will stay onboard with us for the next 2700 or so nautical miles to Hiva Oa. Having our friend along will be an enormous help, as each of us will take only one 4-hour watch at night, allowing us to get at least 8 hours of sleep a day for ample energy to cook, sail and take care of and enjoy time with our girls. Matt also likes to cook, splice and he is a much better fisherman than we are so we plan to put his skills to use. He is also hilarious and we already enjoy his (and Kristin’s) fresh company onboard.

Yesterday afternoon we motored out of La Paz in calm waters. We’d had a slip at the dock for the past two weeks while we got the boat ready and piled on six heaping grocery cartloads of food. It was quite like the day we left Olympia over eight months ago; we knew we were ready to go but kept feeling like we’d forgotten something, along with the knowing that we were starting out on something really really big. Our friends on Del Viento tossed our docklines onboard and I was torn between the sadness of not wanting to leave our good friends who we shared so many fantastic times with over the past few months and the excitement of us each going off on our own adventures and meeting up to share our stories in another year or two.

A few packages awaited us at our friends’ home in San Diego

We are now anchored one last time at Bahia San Gabriel at Isla Espiritu Santo showing our friends one of our favorite beaches ever. There are a few things remaining on our list of things to do before we step off the continent but today we are enjoying the chance to wind down after a truly whirlwind last three weeks of final preparations. At the end of February, we flew to San Diego for the weekend to pick up a number of items we didn’t trust to ship across the border (i.e. a new autopilot, our repaired HAM radio as well as a used spare purchased on ebay, a New Found Metals portlight to install at the end of our bed which opens into the cockpit, South Pacific guidebooks and charts, and most importantly: pounds and pounds of Trader Joes dark chocolate).

Back in La Paz we checked the boat over from top to bottom, installed the new autopilot and portlight, fixed loose stitches on our sails, got dental cleanings, fillings, a crown, and an eye exam, enjoyed five crazy days of Carnaval, filled the propane and dive tanks, went to meetings with the other La Paz Puddle Jumpers, helped with the girls’ bake sale for Baja Dogs, picked up more clean, dried and folded laundry, shopped for, piled on and stowed food, food, and more food, paper towels, toilet paper and sunscreen.

Even so, we definitely found ourselves on Mexican time: by 5 pm every day we’d wrap up our work, go and find Leah who was off playing with her girlfriends, and meander down the malecon to our favorite beach restaurant. Here, the margaritas were excellent and, more importantly, had an impressive playground right in the sand for the kids to run around in while their parents unwound.

It was sitting here two nights ago that I realized how truly much we are going to miss warm, easy Mexico. We’ll be back. But for now the Pacific is calling and we’re on our way.

Stella’s in La Paz: a restuarant in Mexico that serves amazing Italian food and wicked margaritas, complete with a playground on the beach. It does not get any better than this.

Leah and Frances, being 6. Leah is going to miss her good friend and so are we.

It took me three days to stow six grocery carts of food. And we haven’t even been to Costco yet.

Stories from the Sea of Cortez

Feb 19th, 2012
by Sara.
5 comments

We are now back in La Paz after spending three magical weeks exploring the Sea of Cortez a hundredish miles north of here. While our To Do List Before Crossing the Pacific consumes us now, we tried to put it out of our minds during our time up north and just enjoy exploring this stunning desert wilderness. Not having access to the internet certainly helped, and when our HAM radio went out with a pop and a puff of smoke in Agua Verde blogging and emailing ceased completely. We didn’t mind too much as it gave us even more time to soak in the beauty around us. Stories have piled up, as have memories of simply being together in the Sea.

A Surprise Reunion With Our Sailing Gurus

We waited in Ensenada Grande nearly three days for the northerly winds to die down which had turned us back while enroute to Isla San Francisco. We tuned into the Southbound Net one evening hoping to hear from our good friends that we’d last heard were on their way to Banderas Bay from San Carlos. Then we heard it, a booming check-in “TILLICUM!” that was so loud it was like they were right next door.

Turns out they were – just north of us at Isla San Francisco Robert and Rose on S/V Tillicum had made a surprise stop in Baja on their way south. Hailing from Sidney, British Columbia, we’d originally met these inspiring voyagers ten years ago while on our way to Mexico on our Alberg 35 and have kept in touch over the years. Two days later we were anchored right next to them at Isla San Francisco, where we’d also anchored together nine years ago, only this time of course we had our young girls to join us for tea in the afternoons. The crew of Tillicum, now well into their 60s, continues to inspire us with their endless youth and energy. They are now planning their fourth trip to the South Pacific — or maybe this time across the Atlantic — and shared hours of advice and stories for us as we plan our first.

Leah Turns Six

We officially celebrated Leah’s sixth birthday at Isla San Francisco. Earlier in the week at San Gabriel, we’d had a little beach party with our friends on Del Viento where all four girls ran around making sand dams and salty rivers for hours. At Isla San Francisco, we brought chocolate cupcakes over to Tillicum for another quiet celebration with friends.

A few weeks before, Leah was inwardly upset that there would not be a large gathering of her friends and a big party organized as we’d done in years past. But as her actual birthday approached, she was perfectly happy with our small celebrations of just a couple close friends, her family, a few small goodies and a day of sunshine and feeling special and loved. Another birthday to remember.

In Ague Verde, We Meet More Inspirational Canadians

Ken and Francesca are a retired couple from British Columbia who drive down from Canada to the little village of Agua Verde each winter. Their truck and camper was parked in an inconspicuous shady nook on the beach as it has been every winter for the past 10 years or so. We met them while wandering down the playa on our first day in the village. They took us under their wing, bringing us along on visits to their local friends’ homes, inviting the girls to visit the village preschool and personally showing us the painted caves that lie above the westernmost side of the inland valley.

Hiking our way up the cliff side to the aforementioned caves, Ken and Fran scrambled up the rocky hillside with ease while we huffed and puffed following behind. How we want to be like them, now and when we are approaching our 70s ourselves: full of life and smiles and energy and still excited to experience the new after years of exploring.

Holly’s First Day of School

The night before the girls visited the little preschool at Agua Verde, Holly could hardly sleep. She was so excited to be going to her first day of school, so giddy.

We woke up early that morning, ate bowls of hot oatmeal, got dressed in the finest school clothes we could find, piled in the dinghy and surfed into the village. We met the teacher at 9 am at the little one-room schoolhouse; she told us that there are usually 10 kids in class everyday and they are aged 3-5. At 6 they move on to the primary school on the other side of the village.

The room was small and simple but bright and had everything you’d expect in a preschool: tiny tables and chairs, walls plastered with the alphabet and numbers, a table of books, an art and science station. Over the next two hours the kids made a craft (painting glue over their printed name then scattering sand over it). The topic for the day was transportation; Teacher Sandra showed pictures to the kids of planes, trains, trucks then they gathered into a circle and played charades. Leah got to pretend to be a rocket, Holly a hot air balloon. The kids then cut pictures from magazines of things that moved and pasted them on a board, sorting by sea, land and air.

While 6-year-old Leah was quite frustrated at not understanding the language and was exhausted at morning’s end, Holly, at 3, didn’t mind it at all and asked when her next day at school was.

Perspective

We were anchored in Agua Verde when an enormous 160’ motoryacht joined us in the bay. Nearly half of the boat’s stern was dedicated to water and air toys: at least three powerboats tucked in several deck layers topped with a small helicopter. We were kind of awestruck at the arrogance of someone flaunting such wealth in front of a village of pangueros, with families living a life of such simple means.

The next day Ken and Francesca invited us to visit the home of their friends, Lenora and Alejandro, in the village. It was a lovely cozy home, painted in all my favorite shades of blue with a cool covered front porch where the family was gathered and a small garden out back. Francesca told me it was actually one of the larger homes in the village, with four rooms (a kitchen, the main bedroom/living room and a bedroom for their daughter and one for her son). Their home, like most others in the village, had a small 80-wattish solar panel and battery outside to power their lights and radios in the evenings.

Sitting in the cool shade of the front porch, we chatted with the family in our rudimentary Spanish. Michael, Ken and Alejandro talked about the solar panels most families now had in the village. “You are the velero with four panels, yes?” Alejandro asked us. We nodded, blushing with the knowledge that even our simple boat was adorned with excess.

The Los Gatos Hermit Crabs Come for a Visit

We spent a week in beautiful Agua Verde and could have easily stayed much longer but the time had come to boogie on south back to La Paz. Happily, while we had motored just about all the way up to Agua Verde we finally got to take advantage of all the nice northerly wind in the Sea to sail back.

The weather was fine to stop at Los Gatos, which is surrounded with the most amazing, smooth, bright red sandstone. It is just stunning and the rocks are perfect for scrambling around on.

Los Gatos is also home to herds of land hermit crabs and three of them came to Wondertime for a visit. Coco, Hermie and Sweetie enjoy raisins, carrots and most of all our leftover arracharra beef from Rancho Viejo here in La Paz. Our crabby friends will return to Los Gatos via our friends on Del Viento who plan to head up that way in the next few weeks.

One More Day at San Gabriel

We had 25 knots of wind blow us down the San Jose Canal and Bahia de La Paz back to Isla Espiritu Santo. It was a downwind boogie board ride that reminded me that (1) 10 foot waves are best spaced more than 10 feet apart and (2) these kinds of days are great for getting the counters and shelves cleaned off.

Anyway, we pulled into San Gabriel for the fourth time. I think this is our favorite beach ever; there is a salt water lagoon lined with mangroves that fills up at high tide which turns the beach into salty rivers as the water runs out with the tide. The girls can splash, and float, and build and bury themselves here silly. The sky is blue blue blue, the sand blindingly white and our favorite spot is edged with green mangroves with pink hills farther in the distance and the girls are just a blur, dashing and darting all over in pure play.

Our last morning at San Gabriel, before sailing to La Paz later that afternoon, I just stood on the beach here and took in the view around me, trying to remember all the details so I can return here again and again and again.

Hello, Good-bye La Paz

Jan 20th, 2012
by Sara.
1 comment

I’ve been meaning to write to you about the week we spent on Islas Espiritu Santo and Partida after we crossed over from Mazatlan. These are the two stunning desert islands dressed in layers of pink that lie just north of La Paz. I was going to write about how we were the only boat anchored at Bahia San Gabriel, how “winter in the Sea” stills feels like the hottest NW summer day, how we played in the clear turquoise water that was — admittedly — a little too crisp for venturing out of the shallows. How we buried each other in the soft powdery sand, hiked through giant cactus, and generally just lazed around in the sun admiring the view. I wanted to remember the feeling of our souls recharging, and feeling immensely grateful for being able to visit this very special corner of the earth together as a family.

Until now, we’ve been busy in La Paz this past week getting our chores done so we can head back out again which is exactly what we’re doing in the morning. So we can get back to this:

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