Sarah: My Birthday

Boat-made Lemon Cake
Boat-made Lemon Cake

On January 11, I turned 12. In the morning there was a swimming group that I had been invited to, it just happened that I came on my birthday for the first time :) The swimming group is around 9 am at one of the beaches close to the marina. I will admit, swimming in the ocean scared me a little bit because I don’t have any experience with it, I’m a pool swimmer not an open water swimmer, but I guess I will have to get used to it! We started off into the slightly chilly morning water on a beautiful start of a day. Jane (the other swimmer in the group who is awesome) told me to shuffle my feet in the deeper water so if I touch a stingray it won’t sting me. They only sting when you step on the top of them. Anyways, we shuffled into the water, slowly getting used to it, then slid in. We swam out to the end of the rocky point, then we swam back and forth for a while. The water temperature was quite nice just about pool temp. That day the water was murky, but I went a day ago, and you could see the bottom 9-10 feet down it was amazing. That was great, just getting to swim again.When we finished swimming, we saw a big school of pretty fish swimming around in the shallows, it was really wonderful getting to see them on the way in.

The rest of the day I did a little school, until dad and Sean came back from solar panel shopping. I got to decide where we went for dinner so I chose my favorite restaurant (The Green Tomato.) we got our usual, DELICIOUS fish tacos, with a side of guacamole, we told them it was my birthday, and the waiter grinned ad nodded his head, we had no idea what we were in for. After we finished our dinner  the big speaker that was playing music stopped for a bit until suddenly they start blasting HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!! (Which we realized was the minions from Despicable Me singing happy birthday, it was really funny) all the while they were setting off fireworks in the street (we were sitting outside) and then they brought a big plate of strawberry ice cream and really good cake with beautiful chocolate sauce over the whole thing. It was really fun, and is one of my most favorite restaurant.


The (real) Green Tomato...the bull is fake.
The (real) Green Tomato…the bull is fake.

We then walked back to the Batu, and ate the beautiful lemon cake that mom had baked homemade, with the strawberry ice cream that Sean got for me, and I opened my presents that were decadently wrapped in moms clothes!

I really enjoyed my birthday, and if you ever go to La Cruz, go to the Green Tomato and enjoy homemade tortillas and fresh fish in a delicious fish taco.


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January 9, 2016 – Interviews with Boat Kids

Happy Cruising Kid
Happy Cruising Kid

At this point the BATU crew has been living aboard for about three and a half months. This is just a short time, but long enough to have a good feeling of what cruising on a sailboat is all about, and to have met many other crews who’ve done the same. I’ve regularly shared my perspective, but I thought it would be interesting to talk with some boat kids to find out a bit more about the voyaging life. To support these perspectives, I’ve included a few photos of life, and wildlife, around Marina La Cruz.


Sean, Sarah & Katya
Sean, Sarah & Katya

PETER: How long have you been cruising?
SEAN (13): Three and a half months or so.
SARAH (12): Three months.
RAQUEL (11): About a year and a half PETER: Where did you start from? RAQUEL:
Seattle
KATYA (12): Four years. We started from San Diego.

PETER: Where have you traveled during that time?
SEAN: Astoria, the Ocean, Morrow Bay, the Ocean, San Diego, the Ocean, Ensenada, the Ocean, and La Cruz, Mexico.
SARAH: I have been to Morrow Bay, San Diego, Ensenada and now La Cruz, Mexico.
RAQUEL: We’ve been cruising around Mexico. PETER: Did you go up in the Sea [of Cortez]? RAQUEL: Oh yeah, yeah.
KATYA: We traveled to Washington, Alaska, Canada, Mexico, North Wales, England, France, Australia (some of these trips were by plane).

PETER: How do you like cruising?
SEAN:I like cruising so far, mostly.
SARAH: I like it. PETER: That’s it, huh? SARAH: Yeah….
RAQUEL: I really like it, it’s really fun. I like the clothes. I take less showers. Now that I’m living on a boat, I like nature more.
KATYA: I really love the boat, cruising, everything about it, except when you’re trying to find something that’s just buried beneath everything else.


Biology - Saving a Pufferfish
Biology – Saving a Pufferfish

PETER: What are some of the best parts about cruising?

SEAN: Best parts are meeting other cruising boats, other kid boats, learning things at our own accord, homeschooling I guess, most of the time, sailing (as long as we’re not motoring), being closer together [as a family], not being extremely poor cruisers. Sunrises & sunsets. PETER: Humm, what do you mean by that? SEAN: I mean we are are middle-class cruisers. PETER: Is that good or bad? SEAN: Well, you know, I wish we had a Halberg Rassy 46, but it’s OK.

SARAH: I like exploring uninhabited places, seeing new wildlife, getting to spend time with you people [the family], getting to know the ocean better and trying new things. PETER: Like what? SARAH: Passages, snorkeling, fresh bananas, papayas, swimming in the ocean. Meeting all the new people and attempting to speak Spanish.

RAQUEL: We see a lot of animals. Like when cruising we see dolphins and stuff. Hiking we get to see deer and birds and squirrels. When we’re in the anchorage, our family comes to visit sometimes.

KATYA: Meeting new people. We met more people in four years of cruising than in the seven years we lived in Denver. You get so open minded, meeting different people and different cultures, seeing the world.


Peligro - Beware Falling Iguanas!
Peligro – Beware Falling Iguanas!

PETER: Cool. What are some of the worst parts about cruising?SEAN: Missing home. Missing [our dog] Rio and being back home with friends, because if we ever do come back it’s not going to be the same. PETER: Why do you think that? SEAN: Because we’re not coming back for a while, so I won’t be going to middle school with everybody. PETER: Ah, that’s a bummer, huh. SEAN: Yeah.

SARAH: Not being able to put something down without having it slide off [laughs]. Haha…meeting new people [laughs]. I dunno, not having an address. I kind of like it though, but it’s difficult if you want something shipped to you. Not having access to as many books, and being away from swim team, and friends and Grandma, and Rio.

RAQUEL: To be honest, I’m not really excited about the Puddle Jump [upcoming passage from Mexico to French Polynesia]. Sometimes I get seasick and I can’t eat, and sometimes when it’s really windy I get scared because the boat is rolling from side to side like this [waves her hands around wildly – laughs] and I worry it’s going to flip over.

KATYA: Sometimes when I need my own space – well, there’s no such thing. You can’t go for a walk when you’re out in the anchorage. Everything you need to find is buried somewhere, and you have to put up with Dad’s swearing when parts break. My Dad has his monthly swear word. PETER: [laughs] like what? KATYA: Oh, like “Jesus wept”, “Holy Mary, mother of God” and just like every other swear word you can imagine.


Independent Study - Fluid Dynamics
Independent Study – Fluid Dynamics

PETER: What are some things about cruising that you didn’t expect?
SEAN: Water conservation – wanting to, needing to and doing it. It’s amazing how much less water we use – making sure to use less than a trickle to wash all the dishes by hand. At home you have a dish washer. Having to replace the refrigerator, and then having it take much longer than expected. Replacing the battery banks. I didn’t expect to get used to living aboard so quickly. It’s not like staying aboard for a weekend – we’re actually at home. The change happened almost immediately, that the boat was home.

SARAH: How much the birds and wildlife change from place to place, and having so much time to do stuff.

RAQUEL: Well, I didn’t know we would see so many animals. We see shrimp and whales and dolphins. and I didn’t expect my dad to curse a lot, but when a piece is broken it’s like…are you kidding me?!

KATYA: To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect, but I suppose I didn’t realize we weren’t going to have a plan for the entire time, and that things were going to break so much. I didn’t realize the difficulty involved. And sometimes…boat toilets really smell.


La Cruz Kid Posse
La Cruz Kid Posse

PETER: What do you think about homeschooling on the boat?SEAN: It’s a lot different on the boat. The idea of going cruising is like going on spring break; exploring everyday and stuff. Now we’re here, but you still have to fit schoolwork into that, you have to balance two lives. We have all-the-time weekend, but all-the-time school as well, so you have to balance things. Plus it’s hard to get internet.

SARAH: Very interesting… [using funny nasal voice – laughs]. It can be good and bad, and sometimes it’s kind of hard getting yourself to do it.

RAQUEL: It’s amazing. My parents are my teachers, so I get mad at them sometimes, but I start school when I wake up, so I’m in my PJ’s and stuff. The projects are amazing! Once we made a volcano! We painted and decorated a papier-mache volcano, and then I think we used vinegar with baking soda.

KATYA: I started school on the boat, then I went to school in Friday Harbor, then back to homeschool. I like the fact that you don’t have a strict schedule. And let’s get something straight; all the kids I’ve met in the last four years, and that’s a lot of kids, trust me, they are friggin’ geniuses! I mean really smart kids.


Music Appreciation - Rocking Out on Air Guitar
Music Appreciation – Rocking Out on Air Guitar

PETER: What would you say to other kids getting ready to go cruising?
SEAN: Well, ‘hang on dude’, you can’t expect anything, just hang on. Make sure to say goodbye to all your friends, and your dog. Have a big get together and say goodbye. You’ll still miss them, no matter what.

SARAH: Have fun! Don’t bring sinkable things, or make sure to tie things down…yup.

RAQUEL: I would say you’re probably going to have to help your parents, and you’ll take less showers, but it’s really cool stuff that you’ll see and the anchorages are beautiful. It’s good if you have a kayak or a paddle board so can explore the places and maybe snorkel or scuba dive so you can see the fish.

KATYA: Be prepared for the best and the worst and get comfortable with yourself and the world. After a while you give up caring what you look like. PETER: is that good or bad? KATYA: It’s a good thing because you get to know yourself better, so you’re more open and honest.

Kids have a way of being brutally honest, and these guys cell ’em as they see ’em. These are some really special kids, and I was honored to hear their insights and get a few clear snapshots into cruising life from a different  perspective. A big thanks to Sean, Sarah, Raquel and Katya! There are probably 20 – 25 interesting, intelligent and engrossed cruising kids here at the moment – I wish we could have included every perspective.  Hopefully these few will give a good snapshot of the voyaging life from a kid’s perspective.


Creative Art Session
Creative Art Session

January 1 – 12, 2016 – Not Dreaming

Today I am in the cockpit watching the swell roll beneath the boat. It forms into perfect azure lines that rise up to break as curling white foam, peeling away from the rocky point just inside of our anchorage. The broken waves stretch out their frothy fingertips to climb up the golden shore as if trying to escape before being pulled inevitably back to the sea. The horizontal plane of beach is fringed with luscious green palms and low slung villas looking smart in their uniform white-washed walls and red-tile roofs, the occasional frangipani adding a bracing shot of magenta as if the scene were not already quite picturesque enough. At the moment the tide is low, very low. We lie in 15 ft of water and the waves begin to break only a hundred yards from the boat. We are safe, but as I write the next set is 4 -5ft and I decide to move to deeper water. It’s starting to look like good surfing. The forecast is for building swell and I don’t want to worry about the boat. We’ve been anchored in this spot for a week. Time has flown by as if on fast forward.


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In news from the fridge department, our well-stocked freezer is running on low between 4 and 9 degrees F – a very, very good thing. It has been almost a month and a half since that evening when our old refrigeration system went up in a puff of electrical smoke. We’ve covered a lot of territory during that time, literally and figuratively.


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Looking back several steps, our old refrigeration was a large, heavy belt-driven system that required engine-running or shore power. It needed to be run 1-2 hours per day. The old batteries were flooded lead-acid, good for taking a charge quickly, perhaps not the best for ease of maintenance or longevity. The whole system was designed around a daily engine run. When asked why we had no solar panels we would try to explain that they didn’t make a lot of sense because of our refrigeration. When we needed new battery banks we chose high-quality sealed AGM batteries for their longevity, reportedly taking 1000 charge cycles or more. What I didn’t realize at the time is that AGM batteries prefer and require a lower, slower charge. I reprogrammed the charge regulators for the charger and the engine-driven Balmar alternator when installing the new banks. When the refrigeration system required an update, the choice was easy – we’ve long envisioned a small, quiet 12v system that didn’t mandate use of the engine and didn’t sound like a jet aircraft departing the runway. However, the energy required to charge the 12v battery banks which give us refrigeration, lights, computers and so forth has to come from somewhere. Currently we run the engine, or more typically, our small Honda 2000eu gas-powered generator to recharge the batteries. Unfortunately this is not an efficient charging tool because the AGM batteries prefer such a long, slow charge. AGM’s are much better suited to the steady stream from solar panels than to a hard, fast engine driven charge. We’ve reached a point where solar panels are not just a nice bonus, but a virtual necessity. As we seek shelter from the persistent sun of the Mexican Riviera I can almost taste those free amp-hours as they stream in through efficient solar panels, rush into our battery banks, and cool me an icy cervesa. So this is the next step for us; to figure out how solar works, what we need, and where to source it. In the states we take it for granted that anything we want is just a few clicks away. Getting specialty items like this in Mexico can be a huge challenge, and UPS and FedEx are not viable options.


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Next to the the boat, another splash! We are dived regularly by pelicans and boobies. I know what you’re thinking, but these are the bird variety. According to the extra-thick guide book we somehow found room for, this one appears to be a masked booby.  We’ve also seen brown and blue-footed boobies diving within a foot or two of the boat. They are chasing fish hiding in the shadow below our hull. We watch them dive on other boats in a similar way. An hour ago a pod of dolphins cruised lazily past, cavorting in the waves, jumping in beautiful arcs. Possibly they were after the same fish as the boobies, but they didn’t come close enough for us to tell. We’ve read that the younger ones are the most playful and inquisitive, while the older ones get more like me, a little grumpy and curmudgeonly. Just now as I look up from writing, two pelicans have come to roost on our bow. Not sure if this is a good idea or not, but it’s pretty cool to see Sean gradually approach them with the camera.


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I must admit, to me this entire scene is a miracle. When I really stop to think about it, it’s unbelievable that we’ve made it here as a well-functioning team, and in good working order. We’ve had our problems, sure, but problems are to be expected. How you deal with problems is the real test. I am so proud of my wife and kids as they rise to these occasions, constantly making our team better.

We have kept our cruising schedule deliberately vague so that we could blaze our trail together as a team. The only concrete plans we had were to spend at least a month here in the Puerto Vallarta area. There are many great options from here. We’re currently beginning to gather info for our upcoming BATU team meeting where we will outline our next steps. We will certainly keep the updates coming.

For now, I swing on the bow in our super-comfy ENO hammock from outdoorplay.com and watch the sun set in an impossible explosion of colors that eventually rolls up into a tapestry of moon and stars. I think to myself “we are here, we are HERE, we ARE HERE, WE ARE HERE! Yop!!”


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December 6 – 26, 2015 – Feliz Navidad!

As December ticks away we carefully remove the old refrigeration and install the new one. Help and advice from the manufacturer, Technautics, is critical. Two final steps remain and for these we call the refrigeration repairmen. It takes some specialized equipment to vacuum down the tubing and charge the system with refrigerant. To ensure success we also ask them to install our new expansion valve, a system-critical fitting that cannot leak. This is a choice we will come to regret, but hindsight is always 20/20. We start up the new 12v refrigeration system on December 14 and begin making plans to depart Ensenada on the 16th. The timing is tight, but leaving on the 16th gives us 8 days to make the 1100nm passage to Puerto Vallarta before Christmas.

We run around town gathering supplies, take an Uber car to Costco for frozen provisions, and fill up on propane. By the morning of our departure it is clear that there’s a problem with the refrigeration. The system is cold, but not getting cold enough. We have two options: a) stay in Ensenada to resolve the issues, or b) leave on passage and fix the problems when we arrive in Puerto Vallarta. We have been in Ensenada long enough. It feels like we’re growing roots to hold us here. Staying means having Christmas in Ensenada, and that prospect is daunting enough that we decide to leave and deal with the consequences, whatever they are. After several calls with Rich from Technautics, we determine that running the refrigeration in it’s current state won’t damage the system, so we depart late in the day – about 3:00pm.

Honestly, we are not quite ready to go to sea. In harbor, life is warm and sheltered. Our sails are prepped and gear stowed, but now none of us is wearing foul weather gear or life jackets. No sooner are we around the jetty than we are in 6-8ft seas, 15-25 knot winds and 20 degree cooler temperatures. Note to self: always put on sea gear before departure. We manage to get fenders & docklines stored, sea gear donned, and sails set in fairly short order. Feeling extraordinarily free we sail West, literally into the sunset, between Cabo Punta Banda and Islas de Todos Santos.


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The passage goes extraordinarily well. Our first couple days are light, but we make 3-5 knots of progress flying our colorful spinnaker in 5-15 knots of wind from astern. By the third day our breeze freshens to 20 – 30 and we hiss along nicely at 7 knots, mostly under 1-reefed main and poled-out staysail. The water is sapphire blue, skies are mostly clear with a few white puffy clouds, and we keep an eye on the dusty taupes, ochres and jades of the shoreline gliding by some 20 miles distant. We see little traffic, just the occasional freighter or cruise ship, Karen’s favorite night-watch entertainment. Most keep a respectful distance away. The colorful cruise ship lights  serve as a poignant reminder of Christmas close at hand. Our kids begin to speculate about whether Santa makes deliveries at sea.


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Knowing that our route passes over several seamounts, we speculate about the prospect of excellent fishing.  After a long stretch of trailing our Steve Wrye signature edition hand line, Sean decides to change to a bright ‘hoochy’ lure rigged on spectra line with our rod and reel. Somewhere mid-afternoon my peaceful nap is interrupted by the zizzing sound of line peeling off the reel and excited cries of ‘FISH ON!’ The sea around us is alive with schools of fish, and dolphins, the air alive with birds, the excitement palpable as we pass from 5000 foot to 200 foot depths over a giant mountain below the surface. Sean is giddy once he feels the incredible power and determination of the fish on the other end of that spectra line. After 40 minutes of strenuous fight, we haul in a 38 lb yellowfin tuna and subdue the beautiful fish with more than a modicum of Lady Bligh’s Coconut Rum. Although certainly not what Lady Bligh (or the fish) had in mind, we eventually dispatch the fish and carve up at least 20 lbs of impeccably fresh, delicious tuna. The next morning we determine that our freezer is getting warmer, a fact that bodes poorly for about half the tuna and several hundred dollars worth of provisions, but for the time being, we eat fat & happy – tuna in butter, tuna in garlic, marinated tuna with garlic-lime aioli.


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Our boat loves the wind. 20 – 30 knots is a very happy spot for the fully loaded BATU and she sings along magically before 4+ days of great breeze. We are thankful for the wind and anxious to make our Christmas landfall, so we bypass all the anchorages, sailing past Turtle Bay at dawn, past Asuncion at sunset, past Mag Bay with a full head of steam and past Cabo San Lucas as well. We sail until the wind stops, some 25 miles into the Sea of Cortez, then we motor across the sea for two full, calm days. The wind returns just in time for a grand entrance into Bahia de Banderas under full sails as we arrive at the quaint Mexican village of La Cruz de Huanacaxtle (pronounced wanna-KASH-lay) on Christmas Eve. A warm Feliz Navidad to all our family and great friends! We are thinking of you fondly.


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We celebrate Christmas modestly with a small round of useful gifts and heaping platefuls of Eggs Benedict, a Christmas tradition started by my brother Mark. The cooking takes some creativity as our refrigerator is now at a balmy 50 degrees – definitely no Bueno. In the coming days we will begin ‘ Refrigeration 201′ as we recharge the system, find and stop the leak and adjust the expansion valve to maintain the proper freezer/ fridge temp. For now though, we are just happy to be here in the tropics ‘living the dream’ as they say.


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November 24 – December 5, 2015 – Excuse Me Sir, Your Dot is Broken

Our original plans were to stay in Ensenada for a day or two, just long enough to check into Mexico and review the weather forecast for our next leg South. Once checked in, we saw an opportunity to schedule our long-overdue haul-out. The Baja coastline is mostly uninhabited until Cabo, and we have no interest in going there, so, although we might stop once or twice, our next leg will be about 1000 nautical miles. We want to be prepared for it.


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Although being on the hard is an unnatural thing for a boat, our yard experience was good thanks to the extremely professional staff at Baja Naval. After a week on the hard, BATU splashed back in the water November 29 with a new salt-water through-hull, new flax shaft packing, a line cutter and a couple fresh coats of Z-Spar B90 anti-fouling paint. She was ready for the tropics, and we were too! With a couple days to provision and prepare, we planed to depart Ensenada and sail for the next seven to ten days, around the Southern tip of Baja and across the Sea of Cortez to Mazatlan or Puerto Vallarta. But life, especially when cruising, turns on a dime.


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Everything changed with an unnerving popping sound and the acrid smell of electrical smoke. A day before our planned departure, our ancient, but very well-built Grunert refrigeration system went *poof*. The shredded interior of our old compressor motor revealed a very worn shaft from a sealed bearing race that had gone bad long ago, but kept rotating anyway due to the power of the system. “No senior, replacement parts not possible. The factory is closed twenty years.”

So, somewhat grudgingly, begins our education on the installation of refrigeration systems. Every dollar we spend means less time cruising, and a lost opportunity to learn self-reliance. We could continue without refrigeration, but to us the extra effort and hassle seems like too much of a tradeoff. If we have to replace the system, we will do the work ourselves. They say the ‘cruising life’ means repairing your boat in exotic locations. While far from exotic, here we are. For those many who are wondering why our tracking dot is no longer moving, that’s the answer.


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At this point we plan to install a new low-voltage compressor system that will pair with our current layout of four holding plates. Still an expensive and complicated repair, this will be far cheaper and better than tearing everything out and starting completely from scratch, as long as we can make it work. We need to rent or borrow a car and drive back to the States to purchase parts. Everything is logistically complicated. Like most boat projects, just reaching the problem is nearly impossible and involves many unnatural and painful positions in tight spaces. This is why we brought kids.

Our dot will move again. At the moment, we are anxious to wrap up this next phase and move on. Although it takes some time to adapt to our new reality, we are out in the world finding our way, and at the end of the day, that’s still a very good thing.

November 11 – 23, 2015 – Ensenada, BC Mexico

Mexico is a different country. This sounds self-evident, of course it is! My point is that the seventy mile hop between San Diego and Ensenada is geographically small, but culturally quite significant. The trip to Ensenada takes only an hour and a half by car, ten to twelve hours by sailboat. Compared to San Diego, the weather is the same, the ocean is the same, even the landscape is pretty much the same. But the the government, the language, the culture, and the rules are very different.


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Checking into Mexico by boat is somewhat complicated and helps to underscore the differences in language and culture. We wanted to be as prepared as possible, so we tried to do most of the permitting work ahead of time. This was frustrating, and not really successful. We found that the best way to check into Ensenada by boat is simply to come here with all your original documents and a boat-load of patience. Check-in involves showing proof of Mexican liability insurance (not your standard policy) and getting FMM tourist cards, Fishing licenses, and a Temporary Import Permit (TIP) for the vessel. We tried to do each of these things in advance with lots of frustration and limited or no success. Fortunately, we knew in advance that we’d have problems with the TIP, so we were able to be proactive about it when we arrived and enlist the help of an agent. We found that the only thing you really must do in advance is to purchase Mexican liability insurance, which we did by phone & email the day we departed the US.

There is a lot of discussion amongst cruisers about problems with Temporary Import Permits. The Mexican government is extremely generous in extending a “free pass” for foreigners to bring their vessels to Mexico without paying duty. This brings a lot of extra tourist money into the economy, but there are problems with the process for cancelling an import permit. When leaving the country, visiting boaters typically leave the TIP in place since it’s good for ten years. But years later, when selling the boat, the TIP appears irrelevant, and may easily be discarded or forgotten. When the new owner brings the boat to Mexico she may find that there is already a TIP on her vessel. Without the original certificate, which goes with the vessel, an old permit can only be cancelled in person. This was the problem we had. After numerous phone calls and emails, and with the help of an agent, we found it necessary to go to the police station in Ensenada and report the original TIP certificate lost. The subsequent process was long and bureaucratic, but eventually we were able to cancel the previous TIP and obtain a new one. The entire saga took the better part of two days, but might have been done in one day if we had known exactly what steps to take before hand. Nonetheless, the bureaucratic mumbo-jumbo is part of checking in by boat. Now that we’re officially in Mexico, we are loving it.


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One interesting aspect about cruising is the element of uncertainty. Perhaps the most significant lifestyle change for us is dealing with far less certainty in our lives. Ashore, things are fairly predictable; meals, activities, bedtimes, even the cast of characters all go more-or-less according to plan. Now, our lives are in constant flux, shifting in response to ever-changing variables that emerge to divert, thwart or simply alter our plans. In general, we try take things day-by-day, and not have too many expectations. But still, I notice the strain of being constantly prepared for change, and of keeping our family safe in an uncertain environment.  I feel alive, but it is a lot of work! By nightfall, I am usually exhausted. Whether or not I’ll have time to sleep is also uncertain.


 

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After pushing hard to get South, we realized that the weather was not suitable for us to make a fast passage to Puerto Vallarta to meet our friends Chuck and Cathy as planned. South of Ensenada, options for hauling out become increasingly limited and far more costly. We decided to stay in Ensenada for an extra week to haul out at Baja Naval, a well-respected yard near the downtown district. This decision gave us time to stabilize the kid’s homeschooling, which had become a bit haphazard as we pushed the schedule along. It also allowed us to catch the Baja1000 off-road race which starts and ends in Ensenada. It was incredible to see insanely powerful off-road vehicles blaze past us (sideways) at ninety mph, and even more interesting to see the Mexican people rally around this event as if it were a national holiday. Uncertainty leads to surprises, some pleasant, others not. Interesting nuggets like this are what we are searching for, and I am thankful to dig for them out here in the world.


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November 1 – 10, 2015 – San Diego

The roughly 300 nautical mile ‘hop’ down the coast was fairly uneventful, all in all. Cautiously we started, again, with a small craft advisory for high winds and seas. While we can’t ignore these warnings to mariners, we are coming to understand that they don’t necessarily mean we shouldn’t go out. We need wind to sail, without it, we’re just a painfully slow motorboat. Fortunately, Batu is ready for sea, and we are ready to go with her. We had a nice sail for half the passage, but despite high wind warnings, once South of Point Conception we ended up motoring through the outer passage of the Channel Islands.


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On the whole, sailors are a superstitious bunch. We don’t take a lot of stock in most of them, but there are a few that are so universally accepted, that to flaunt them seems foolhardy. Afterall, how could so many people be wrong? One such widely accepted superstition is that it’s bad luck to leave on a Friday.  Sadly, an unfortunate side-effect about being cruisers, is that, without jobs, we’re somewhat clueless about what day of the week it actually is. This was the case with our departure from Morro Bay. We were already four hours out to sea before I figured out that we’d left on a Friday. I tactfully explained the situation to the powers that be and asked forgiveness for my clueless, happy-go-lucky attitude. This was apparently acceptable since our passage was uneventful, but all the same, I was on edge until we stopped moving in San Diego.


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Three Amazing Things about ocean passages:

#1) Traveling with dolphins. All down the West coast we have been warmly greeted by various groups ranging from two or three to literally hundreds of dolphins. No matter how rough or calm the seas, these beautiful creatures converge on the boat, taking turns criss-crossing the bow in well synchronized groups. We’ve seen many different types and they are all welcoming, curious, and playful! They seem to love it when we come to the bow to see their acrobatics, even turning sideways occasionally to look directly at us. When the dolphins show up, you just have to smile. They are the ocean’s welcoming committee.

#2) Bioluminescence. The sea sparkles at night. Some areas have more luminescence than others, but all down the west coast we’ve experienced great comfort and wonder in the dark of the night from the firefly sparkles and luminescent glow beneath the surface. Anywhere the water is agitated will glow and spark. With crisp stars above and glowing spark trails streaming away from bow and stern, it’s not hard to imagine the boat moving through the middle of a giant black snowglobe. One particularly dark, luminescent night we experienced pure magic; a pod of dolphins joined us, looking for all the world like fireworks around the boat. You could see their trails criss-crossing from side to side and weaving above and below each other in pairs and threes. Without a doubt, it was one of the most surreal and magical things I have ever seen.

#3) Whales. Thankfully, we have not seen whales too close to the boat. We have seen several whale spouts, backs and flukes as they move along their migratory path, which parallels our route. One evening at sunset we saw an adult whale (we think either a gray or a humpback) fully breach the surface about 300 yards astern. We’re not sure if she was chasing something, or just enjoying the beautiful sunset, as we were, but she breached repeatedly, making huge waves and a staggering splash in the evening glow. The awesome power and majesty is something I will never forget.

After the passage, San Diego itself was almost an anti-climax. It’s a beautiful harbor with many thousands of amazing boats, and just as many boaters, all seemingly in a very big hurry, no matter which direction they are going. Saturday races brought out a fleet of at least 150 – 200 boats raging from 24 to 120 ft long, an amazing sight! Our time in San Diego was spent replacing the batteries and running countless other errands before leaving the states. We were thankful to have the city at our fingertips, and yet glad in the end to see its lights slip astern as, on November 10, we made an evening departure for Ensenada, Mexico, just 70 miles South.


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October 20 – 30, 2015 – The Voyaging Life

An interesting thing about preparing for a journey like ours is that, for quite some time, people have been giving us credit for having made a voyage that we’re still trying to begin. In discussing our plans, most people react with a combination of envy, amazement


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and awe. A few just think we are incredibly stupid. The thing is, we’ve been getting credit for having “sailed around the world” (their simplified phrasing, not mine) before leaving the docks. The truth is, we’re learning to live the voyaging life. Although experienced, and fairly prepared, we are not accomplished world sailors. Not yet.

We have experienced months – possibly years? – of intense busy-ness doing boat projects, preparations, garage sales, packing and pushing to get out of the house. We used to joke that “we’d rest when we went to four-hour watches.” In fact, that is what happened as, stressed and sleep-deprived, we departed Astoria and sailed South. But today was different. Today we woke up in Morrow Bay, CA. Today, time stretches out in front of us in a more leisurely way. There is time for exploring the sand dunes, for paddling, for digging big holes and for cooking a nice meal. It’s a good thing too, because the grocery store is a 25 minute walk! Just now, I feel like we are beginning to be voyagers and, because of the fact that we earned this luxury, it feels hugely satisfying. I doubt it will continue to feel this way, but I am so thankful for what we have right here and now.


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After the continual pressure to save money, ready the boat, ready ourselves and so forth, our peaceful time in the quiet town of Morro Bay was a balm to us, and we soaked it up. Although anchoring is possible in the bay, the tidal flow is so strong, typically ebbing and flowing at 3 – 4kts, and the mooring buoys are so convenient and plentiful, that we choose to lie to a mooring 200ft. off the Morro Bay Yacht Club. This gave us great access to laundry, showers wi-fi and gossip, but with far more privacy than boats tied on the dock. It was a perfect setup for us to try to work the kinks out of our long-range SSB radio and Pactor modem used for email, voice and weather info on the high seas. As it turned out, it was also a perfect way to confirm (or deny) that our battery bank was up to the task of cruising. On the docks we would have been plugged into shore power and may have discovered too late that our battery banks were at the end of life stages. On the mooring ball we were forced to run the engine at least once a day to keep the batteries alive, even with minimal power consumption and the extra boost of a wind generator.


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And so began the next challenge of changing out the battery banks. Our boat is an island  – we generate and store our own power or we don’t have any. With no power, we have no engine and no way to maneuver the boat in an emergency. The batteries are the lifeblood of a cruising boat. Changing the banks to a new system is a technical process and I’ll spare you the technical details, but suffice it to say, its complicated, and everything is a compromise of some sort. Having no car or delivery address is an added challenge not much improved by the fact that we don’t know exactly where we’re going to be be in a few days, or when we’ll arrive wherever we may end up. Everything is determined by the weather and our ability to move peacefully through it. Ultimately, we decided to stuff in 2 Super 8D AGM batteries, total 540 Amp hours, and a Group 31 AGM, 90 Amp hour emergency start battery. We concluded the best place to install the 460+lbs of batteries and cables was San Diego.


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October 13 – 19, 2015 – Free at last!

I wish I could tell you that we were completely organized and ready for sea, but that would compromise my integrity. In truth, we scrambled to get ready to go. After spending all day Monday on projects and stowing, we were starved, wanting nothing more than a cold beer and a nice meal ashore with Granny. Unfortunately, it was so late we had to make several stops before finding a restaurant still open to serve us. The next scene in our comedy opens with Karen, Sean and Granny running through the grocery store grabbing anything they could before the store closed at 11:00 PM. Some might call it haphazard, but honestly, I think we picked up some efficiency points for provisioning for a 7-day passage in less than 10 minutes.


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Tuesday morning dawned crisp and clear with NOAA continuing a small craft advisory for strong wind and large seas. In addition, the Coast Guard had issued a ‘Recreational 40′ restriction on the Columbia River bar, effectively closing the bar to non-commercial vessels 40ft and less. I take the Coast Guard restrictions very seriously, and Karen is a born rule-follower, but careful attention to the weather, the forecast and the current buoy reports suggested that the conditions were perfectly acceptable for us. In fact, it was a great day for sailors! We decided to go have a look for ourselves and anticipated the Coast Guard dropping the warning after the ebb, at the 10:00AM slack. At 10:28 AM we found Clatsop Spit abeam with light winds, excellent visibility and 6 – 8ft seas, confirming the buoy reports. With a confidence and certainty that still surprises me, I called the Coast Guard station and advised them that were aware of the conditions and were proceeding across the bar despite the restriction. On the surface this may come across as hubris, but I swear it was nothing of the sort. I understood the conditions, and had experienced other bar crossings in similar conditions to compare with. At the time I was certain the Coast Guard should have lifted the restriction, and in retrospect, I’m still puzzled as to why they didn’t. Nonetheless, onward we went, and with good reason, as the bar conditions proved to be benign and the ocean beyond was beautiful and blue. By mid-afternoon we were sliding Southward under nothing but blue sky and the power of our colorful spinnaker pulling us along at 5 knots with barely more than a quiet swish-swash of water sliding past the hull.

Our 6 day passage to California was mostly as planned. We spent about 75 – 80% of the time sailing, much of it under spinnaker. Despite our conservative approach, reefing down and setting up for nighttime watches before dusk, ‘things’ always happened at night. The winds would shift, the rain squalls would come, the sails would jibe and all of the ships would come out to play. I clearly remember the disoriented feeling one dark night about 50 miles outside of San Francisco Bay. We were struggling to decide if we should turn East and rest in the Bay, or continue Southward to escape the Fall weather patterns which had begun in earnest. Around 1:00AM the winds backed off and began to swirl. We needed to motor, but were low on diesel, so we left the boat to drift and swirl while we siphoned fuel out of our jerry cans into the tank. I thought of the millions of people sleeping snug in their beds while our track went in circles during that crazy, spinning hour in the darkness. It was later that night, through a radio conversation with a freighter turning across our path, that Karen discovered we were not transmitting AIS signal.

In hindsight, that swirling night was a very good time to transfer fuel because after that the weather became squally, the winds increased and the seas kicked up. The following night found us barreling down the coast in 25 kts sustained with black rain squalls chasing us down from astern. No sooner had I passed off the watch to Karen when, at 1:00AM, the winds picked up to 35kts, overwhelming the self-steering wind vane and jibing the sails. In a defensive move, we reduced sail, leaving us marginally underpowered in building seas. It was a long, uncomfortable night being slapped about and listening to hissing seas all around us. IMG_3775The kids popped heads up in the morning to see us surrounded by messy, breaking 15 – 20ft seas with a very short period. It took at least an hour and a half of careful work on deck to reconfigure the sails so we could go again. But gradually we began to sail, and the faster we went the better the unpleasant surging motion became. We determined that our best bet for safe shelter would be Morro Bay, CA. Some 80 miles away, I knew we would have to light up this rocket ship in order to enter the Morro Bay harbor in daylight. For nearly 10 hours we flew before the wind, double-reefed main and both headsails out, broad reaching in 30kts. We crossed the bar into Morro Bay at 6:28PM and watched the sun splash below the horizon. Exhausted, we rolled into bed and expired.


 

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October 7 – 12, 2015 – Downriver Leg

One of the key tenets of Suburban American culture is constant productivity. We scurry around like good multi-taskers, checking off lists and making the most out of each hour, each minute. While this is one concept we plan to question while living the Voyaging Life, ironically, we chose to scurry while preparing to go cruising. We wanted to leave on a schedule, with our kids, at an age where the cruising experience would add to their formative understanding of the world. So it is that we were so busy nosing-the-grindstone that the reality of what we were doing didn’t quite hit until we actually slipped the dock lines and pulled out of our home marina, looking back at that familiar home vista of the Hood River Valley overlooked by the snow-capped sentinel of Mount Hood. It was then that the sadness of leaving home, friends and good people for who-knows-how-long finally hit me. The weather, seemingly in-line with our feelings, quickly became cloudy and began to rain. Fortunately the sadness, which hit us all, was tempered by the building excitement that this moving environment, the boat, was now home.


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We passed through the Bonneville Locks and on downriver without incident, feeling increasingly peaceful as the hectic pace of life ashore slipped astern. The first night out we spent at Government Island, a beautiful public facility very near the Portland metro area, yet insulated by a nature preserve. The second day we tied briefly to the docks at the Red Lion Inn for a last run, on foot, to West Marine.


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We should have known something was up when, by the end of the second day, everything was working seamlessly. Our plan was to tie up to the guest docks in the small town of Cathlamet. We had gone several extra miles to avoid the questionable, shallow waters of the Eastern entrance, and so we arrived at the town of Cathlamet at dusk, and with a soft thud as the depth sounder went very suddenly from 25.0 ft to 2.5 ft. Batu’s draft is 6.0 ft., and all attempts to motor out of the shallow mud were futile. For the first time in our sailing lives we were well and truly aground. There is a saying that any person who claims not to have run aground is either a liar or not a sailor. No need to feel badly about that saying any more! Fortunately, our intrepid team stepped into action in the darkness. Sean and Sarah launched the dinghy and rowed out about 200 ft astern to drop our large stern anchor. I used a winch to pull tension on the stern anchor while Karen motored the boat in reverse, and just a few minutes after low tide, we eased gently off the bank and into the darkness. I wish I could say that was the end of the excitement, but as we gathered ourselves back together and put the dingy back aboard, we discovered that the Cathlamet Channel is apparently a great fishery during the nighttime hours. The channel was strewn with semi-lighted fishing nets leaving only a very narrow area about 40 ft. wide to squeeze through in the darkness.


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Finally back to the main channel in the Columbia River, we decided to continue on to Astoria, just a few more hours downriver. Things were generally smoothing out, but even here we were confused by a series of net lights strung over halfway across the shipping channel. Although we avoided them, it must be stressful to be a fisherman watching vessels heading for your nets. I’m surprised there’s really a need to string nets in the main shipping channel of the Columbia River. Finding this experience so close to home, I can’t wait to see what we’ll find in less developed countries.


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Ultimately, we pulled into Astoria around 12:30 AM, and were happy to tuck in snug for the night. Our haulout scheduled for the next day, we were anxious to press forward with bottom paint and other ‘below the waterline’ projects before our next weather window, which would undoubtedly be short one the following week. Unfortunately, the weather had other plans, because by noon the next day I was in full foul weather gear leaning into a steady horizontal rain borne by 35 knots of Southwest wind, a clear sign of Fall weather setting into the Northwest. When the gusts reached over 45 knots, my phone rang; it was the boat yard calling to postpone our haul out until Monday.

Some experienced sailors may scoff at this, but to my mind, the Oregon Coast in the middle of a strong Fall cold front is no place to ease your wife and kids into IMG_3730the fun, casual world of ocean passagemaking.  Our original intent was to begin our passage South around mid-September. But projects always encounter snags and, doing all the work ourselves, our production capacity was severely limited. In the end I can’t believe how much we did accomplish in two (long) months, but the fact remained, we were pushing the weather window and this Fall seemed to be coming on strong. We’d heard stories of people getting ‘stuck’ in the Northwest. Once the weather changes, it can become extremely unpleasant and downright dangerous to sail this coast. The earlier vision of Batu heeling at 20 degrees on her dock lines as 45 knot gusts swept the Port of Astoria pressed relentlessly on my mind all weekend. By Monday we had decided to cancel the haul out and take a 2-3 day window of Northwest winds which, as it turned out, was one of the last civilized chances to sail out of the Pacific Northwest this season.

The suburban multi-tasker in me is profoundly bugged by not checking off all the items on my ‘IMPORTANT’ list; organize gear – NO, renew bottom paint – PASS, install line cutter – NOPE, replace flax shaft packing – NADA. But, it seems, part of the voyaging life is learning to accept where you are, and where you want to be, with honesty and humility. There are times when the list must be damned. On Tuesday, October 13 we were keenly aware of the choice we made when we scrapped the list and, despite Coast Guard warnings, set out to sea.