Papagayos

We had 300 miles between us and Costa Rica when we waved goodbye to our pilot after steering us through the labyrinth of deltas to exit El Salvador the morning of December 19th. We cruised with steady wind the first day logging 110 miles and catching a couple Dorado. On the trip down to El Salvador, I had carved a wooden lure after a marlin took my only other surface plug. I colored the new plug red white and blue, and named it “The American.” The Result:




The evening after a strong day, we entered the Gulfo de Papagayos. We had no idea what Mother Nature had planned for us the next two days. In an age of modern technology, man can still not accurately predict the weather or the winds the locals call Papagayos. The first night, we hit 3.5 knots of current pushing us out to sea. Day 2: The waves. Swells picked up to about 10-15 feet with very short intervals. With every inch forward, we slammed into waves pushing us miles away from Costa Rica and straight out to sea. The second night and 3rd day were a blur. Walls of waves crashed over the boat. We surely would have been swept overboard without tethers. Determined to see our family for Christmas, we clawed forward as Mother Nature displayed her power. There are moments in time that stand out:

-The rigging on the port side holding the mast up broke in heavy winds. Angels must be looking over us, because the mast bent at what I can only guess to be 35 degrees and did not break. Running on no sleep for 30 hours, Bret had a brilliant idea to ratchet it down. Two 900lb break load ratchets later gave way simultaneously under the strained conditions and the backup rope attachment salvaged our mast once again.

-The night we were repairing the rigging and nearly immobilized, we had a close call with a tanker. Turning on all lights and in high swells, Bret ran down to hail the “Large vessel close to 11.10 N Lat, 87.31 W Long” on the VHF radio. The captain radioed back and informed Bret that we were not on his radar, but after the call, had seen our lights off his starboard bow.” Assured we would not be plowed over by the tanker, Bret came back up to continue the fight against the papagayos.

-Our jib sheet lines became tangled against our rigging (again jeopardizing the mast). In 30 knot winds a battle ensued to free the lines. The wind tossed the first knife over my left shoulder into the sea. Remembering my knife fighting lessons, (Thanks Mark Bradley) The second attempt was successful.

-The wind ripped through two sails and we turned to our engine for salvation. The engine immediately overheated after requesting more than 1500 RPM’s. (We would later find out monofilament fishing line had tangled around the propeller). We sailed on a ripped mainsheet as wind, waves, and current pushed us away from our destination for hours.


We limped the last two days on a strained engine, ripped sails, and wrecked sailboat. All said and done, we were blown 100 miles off-course. With our wind gauge, we recorded up to 50 knots of wind with a consistent blow of 30-35 knots. We took on thousands of gallons of water and everything not ratcheted down on deck was washed overboard. December 24th we have safely arrived in Costa Rica and look forward to spending Christmas with family.

El Salvador

El Salvador welcomed us with open arms. Clearing the boat through customs and immigration was cake, and we had an entire resort to ourselves for a few days at almost no cost since we were hooked onto a mooring. A little further inland, the landscape boasted thousands of acres of sugar cane fields as we headed into the town of Usulutan. A bustling mercado de national was in progress as locals scrambled to complete their Christmas shopping lists. The only grocery store looked like a club in LA, as people waited in a long line and security only let people in while others came out. Items in established appliance stores had Christmas present bows on them, as guards with shotguns stood at the entrances. The people were friendly, and little girls kept grabbing Chad and I by the arm to drag us into their stores. There were a disproportionate amount of sun aged men missing one arm, presumably caused by the harvesting of sugar cane.

The place we stayed in looked like the Amazon, and included swarms of mosquitoes and crocodiles. We took a short hike through the jungle in search of monkeys with no luck. Makai felt at home in the wilderness and learned to howl in the jungle, breaking the dead silence the night before we left.

Long Leg to El Salvador

We left La Cruz the morning of December 2nd and were blessed with strong easterly winds out of the Bay of Banderas. The next few days were painfully slow as we averaged about 35 miles a day. I felt like strapping on a harness and towing the 18 ton vessel to gain some extra mileage on the windless days. A race proposal for one person to run on land to Costa Rica while the other person sailed was made, but never materialized. As if the sea chose to answer our calling for wind, we were hit by a squall on day 4. With no other structure on the water, lightning is attracted to a boat at sea like birds flocking to a fishing trawler. The winds gave us a few quick lessons on how to handle the Broken Compass in rough weather, and we all came out unscathed. With built up confidence, and falling behind our scheduled arrival to Costa Rica, we decided to roll the dice with the tehuantepeckers. The Gulf of Tehuantepec is infamous for heavy weather and with average weather conditions at Force 6 on the Beaufort scale, tehuantepeckers are known to push cruisers out to sea some 500 miles. Avoiding all advice from books and other cruisers was the best thing we could have done.

We saw more wildlife, caught more fish, and had more wind than we had at any other place in Mexico. Dolphins, flying fish, squid, turtles, and whales frequented the boat as the big eye tuna kept the reels screaming and provided for some of the best sashimi we have ever had. A 100+ lb sea monster tested our fishing tackle. It was an epic battle before we realized we had snagged a turtle, and quickly released her from the line. At night, entertainment was found surfing down waves as 30 knot winds allowed us to make some good headway.



The night after crossing the gulf (Day 11), we had our usual cocktail for sunset and polished off the rest of a slender tuna caught that morning. Keeping a distance of around 25 miles offshore, a low flying plane with no lights flew directly overhead. Heading northwest, it was more than likely on its way to deliver drugs to Mexico.

We just pulled into the small town of Jiquilisco on the coast of El Salvador. The area is rich with fisherman and tropical plants and animals. Sandwiched between the ocean and a mountain range, the isolated area is the type of place you could see yourself staying for a few years. A pilot helped navigate the sandbars and currents through the mouth of the bay. We thought we were making decent speed until we realized 4 knots of it was the current coming in the other direction. I’m sure it is quite common, but watching the pilot (in a speedy panga) slow down for us as we chugged along at 1 knot for 4 hours was kind of humorous.

Some pics of tuna and subsequent meal below:

The Lost Week in La Cruz

Similar to the shipwrecked inhabitants that populate the small town of La Cruz Mexico, Bret and I found ourselves stuck for a couple more days than planned. After barely making it through Thanksgiving we decided that we should obtain the proper paperwork before leaving the country. This entails: finding the port captain of an international city, paying your taxes, getting an international Zarpe with signatures and stamps at every checkpoint. Adopting the Mexican work schedule, we successfully cleared customs, immigration, and the port captain in just under a week. Friday was killed working on the boat which included welding our ongoing leak, engine maintenance, cleaning the bilge, and obtaining the final vaccinations for Makai.. Saturday was a day in Buscerias which is a quaint town a couple miles south of La Cruz with fresh fruit stands, open markets and a nice stretch of restaurants on the beach. We attended an open patio restaurant that evening where we struggled to keep up with far more experienced salsa dancers. We have met some great people here including a cute girl from Seattle named Nicky. On Sunday Nicky joined us as we trekked 13 miles across the bay in our “Dingy” for some snorkeling at Los Arcos which is a couple of miles south of Puerta Vallerta. Bret and Niki enjoyed the tropical views and colorful fish topside as I headed deeper water to score some dinner.



The venture proved rewarding boating three decent game fish I mistakenly branded as rooster fish. They have yet to be identified, but they were pretty good. We stayed in port yesterday as a thunderstorm rolled through and obtained the final piece of documentation for departure just two hours ago on Tudesday December 1st. Bret needs to pick up one more Mexican burrito before we say goodbye to our friends here in La Cruz. We set sail at sunset for on our estimated week long voyage to El Salvador.

Thanksgiving Day

It is 3:20 AM on Thanksgiving as I stare upon the countless stars above the rocking Broken Compass. I click the stop button on my watch and smirk to myself. As Chad is still sleeping at his battle station, I thought I would share our most recent humorous story.

It began yesterday morning with typical high spirits and optimism about a super productive day including boat work, refueling, filling the water tanks, internet, getting Mexican departure papers, and a sailors charity event in the evening before pulling anchor and leaving La Cruz. A cup of coffee each were drunk to provide caffeine aided energy. The water for the coffee came from the dock in Cabo San Lucas, where I specifically remember a Mexican saying, “Agua no drink.” The coffee was consumed with confidence in our immune systems’ abilities to cope with bacteria. Unknowingly, the water was the last of the tank. Our theory is that most of the toxic bacteria live on the surface of the water, leaving last of the water tank supply carrying a potent dosage (not sure if this is accurate at all).

Chad immediately fell ill as I drug him ashore to grab lunch and internet. He left early and picked me up with the dinghy at 6pm. With my stomach already disagreeing with my lunch, and seeing my sweaty pale faced brother pick me up wearing nothing but a towel, I realized it would be a rough night. I motored us back the boat, tied her up, and joined Chad’s call to vomit over the port side of the Broken Compass. Knowing persistence and endurance is the greatest weapon against these bacterial beasts, I pressed the start button on my watch.

It was a beautiful scene: As the sun burst with color across the sky taking its last breath of the day, Chad and I disrupted all the surrounding boat occupants perfect evening with noises only made when one sounds as though they are dying.



For the better part of the night we split up on deck with Chad taking starboard, myself port and Makai uncharacteristically quiet in the back. Ignoring our beefed up medical cabinet out of pride, we both devised separate strategies. Chad downed vinegar with water and overused antibacterial soap to speed up the recovery. I focused on moderating convulsive bouts, kept an eye on my watch, and occasionally sipped water. I enjoyed the company of the Broken Compass every 30 minutes or so as the bilge reminded me of our yet to be repaired leak, emptying herself out into the same waters as I did myself.

Chad just woke up and seems almost fully recovered. Thanksgiving will be spent here in La Cruz for a cruisers potluck and turkey provided by a local restaurant owner named Philo.