Bashing up wind isn’t for the weak. Ever heard the saying “gentleman don’t go to weather”? It’s cuz they’re smart and plan it so they don’t have to. After leaving San Jose Del Cabo, Brian and I had a great beam reach, full sails, hull speed….unfortunately it only lasted for about 45 minutes before it turned on our nose, poo. Not going very far in 7 hours, we pulled into an anchorage, Los Frailles, and slept for an hour or so, the sun went down, the wind settled a little and we were off again. Next stop La Paz. We took 2-3 hour turns at the helm. Couldn’t have planned it any better with the full moon, beautiful! I took pictures but they just don’t show how beautiful it was. I came up from a snooze around 2300 and it was dark…WTF? Where’d the moon go? No clouds…..stars were out. The moon couldn’t have gone down already! Holy cow, no one had told us that there was a total eclipse of the moon that night! Sick! It lasted for quiet a while and than the moon came peaking back out, all the stars going back in hiding. Was really cool and a bonus to our night out.

Now I’m off to Santa Cruz. Leaving Loki all alone tide to the dock, feels unnatural. I spent the last couple days doing chores and cleaning Loki, hanging around the dock in La Paz with the other cruisers. Met some great people, all with their own stories how they got there and where they were going. Some up into the Sea Of Cortez, some south to Mazatlan, some just staying there hanging out in La Paz. I really like La Paz, great food and sunsets too. If you ever go there hit me up and I’ll let you know where to go for great tacos.

Amelia wasn’t around so I had to hire a local guy to oil the wood on Loki, about three hours worth of work and it cost me 500 pesos (don’t tell Amelia I’d pay for it) Gabe wasn’t around so when the head started squeaking I had to lube it myself. And Fireball wasn’t around either so no fresh fish. Time to go home I suppose and look for new crew, hopefully one who has a good work ethic, doesn’t mind staying up at night, won’t hit anything with the boat and cooks great!

Tor out

Haven’t written in awhile, people keep bugging me to update so here it is….all the days have been running together so bear with me, I’m just going to write in general terms…no dates because I just don’t remember 😁

I was really sad to send Gabe and Amelia off to the airport, they were headed home to Washington and ready to get back to their “real” lives. LOKI has been in San Jose Del Cabo for just over a month, that’s when those two flew home, a month ago. Torauni came down from rainy California and met us here when we first arrived. After spending a few nights on the boat I left for La Ventana with Torauni and the Fireball and promises of kiting. It was perfect timing as Fireballs uncle Kurt was in La Ventana for a week. They stayed together and had a nice visit generally goofing off and even took turns playing drums in the local band. The wind cooperated and we got some great days on the water. Fireball tried foil kiting for the first time and everyone was blown away because he was staying upwind on the thing after only an hour, I guess a rare feat. Torauni was in the transition of selling her house in La Ventana so we spent a lot of the time cleaning and organizing, getting the house ready for the new owners, who were headed down soon. We headed back to the boat for a few days and picked Fireballs girlfriend, Jamie, up and all headed back to La Ventana for more wind. Hmmmmm its all kind of a blur, kiting, getting the house ready, great tacos, beer, runs on the beach, more kiting….you get the point. So…we came back to the boat, Jamie flew home, Fireball flew home and then Torauni flew home all on different days. The Fireball is off to Salt Lake City, living with Jamie and going to get EMT certified, YAY! I’ve been here alone on LOKI for about a week I guess, working on the boat, running on the beach, making new friends, and eating great tacos!

Admiral was going to come sail with me for a week, taking the boat to La Paz, but had to cancel because of family issues. Fortunately Brian Friedmann is showing up today and we leave tomorrow for a 26 hour run up there. Our weather window doesn’t allow us to spend anytime exploring anchorages, hence the straight shot. The wind blows from the north pretty hard this time of year and sailing into that wouldn’t be any fun.

I’ve reserved a slip in La Paz, so when we get there, I’ll tie up to the dock and fly home. LOKI of course really doesn’t like this, like a wild horse in a stall longing for open pasture. I have to fly home to deal with some stuff. Than the plan is to head back down in the middle of March and cruise up into the Sea Of Cortez April and May….than who knows, haven’t figured that one out yet, suppose four months is as far as I can think. My options are to leave the boat in San Carlos for the hurricane season or, more likely, bash back up to Santa Cruz. Not sure I can be without my beautiful boat all summer. I’ll be in Santa Cruz for the summer and the thought of LOKI being all alone in Mexico isn’t sitting well with me.

I really miss my crew, three of the most perfect young adults one could ever want on a trip like this. Not sure who got the better deal…they got to sail, in two months time, from California to the tip of Baja, a great experience for anyone. I got to coast as they did most of the work! There was never an end to what they came up with to entertain themselves always looking for a good laugh, which of course I thoroughly enjoyed.

One thing I knew before but has really been driven home is that I’m a social person. I really enjoy sharing experiences with those I love. I don’t want to be on my boat alone. I long for my friends and family.

Tor out

Well. Loki’s tied to a dock, first one since Ensenada over a month ago. I know I’d rather be anchored out where it’s way less stuffy. Loki feels the same. First thing we did when we arrived was to wash everything. I can see through the windows again! All the built up salt, washed away. And showers! Two in two days and I’m finally clean. Filled the water tanks without dragging the water maker out. Walked to the store without lowering the dinghy, than to a restaurant where they hand delivered cold beer and tacos. Some simple things you miss when on a boat. Fireball and I even gave all our really dirty laundry to a woman and she washed it for us. Nine loads! Good thing too, because I was down to one not-too-dirty shirt.

After a couple of days here, the boat is getting back to a state of organization. I enjoy fussing around my boat. Being on the move all the time, and living in close quarters, things get shoved in corners rather then put away where they belong.

Gabe and Amelia left yesterday, sad face, so it’s Fireball and me on the boat until Torauni shows up this afternoon, happy face. It’s been quiet without the other two “kids” on my boat. Way less chaos; much of the time, the three of them together are like a tornado out of control. I miss it. I really miss it. I miss watching the three of them playing, constantly playing. It seemed as if the only times they were serious was when I was barking orders after the wind picked up and we had to reef. Or when we had a fish on the line and the fight was on. Or when it was time to eat: Those boys can eat! Some of their “have fun no matter what” attitude has rubbed of on me: I wish more of it had. They had fun raising and lowering the dinghy, making any silly game they could outta it, and chores! They made chores fun. They snorkeled a lot and always together, for hours. They would surf together usually unless it was to big for Amelia, than she would dinghy back to the boat. She only left them far from the boat once while the sun was going down. “They said they’re going to paddle back”. I had to go get them in the pitch black, & I wasn’t happy. Boys will be boys.

I don’t miss the “that’s not my dirty dish” or “who drank the last cold beer and didn’t put any more in the fridge?” It’s kinda nice making tea in the morning without having to worry about waking the sleeping Stark three feet away too. I already miss the help though. Cheerfully, Gabe would do any chore I threw at him, and believe it or not, clean up and put tools away too. He’s a really good mechanic. Amelia took after her father as chef. She cooked 90% of the meals, everything except the fish, because that was Fireballs department. And clean the boat, she would put her earbuds in, dance around singing, and clean absolutely anything that got in front of her.

I’m clean and wearing freshly washed clothes and Loki isn’t swaying back and forth with the tide, all salty from the ocean spray….feels weird…not sure I’m liking it. Fireball’s out with his speargun right now looking for our dinner, hoping for fish on the BBQ tonight. Some things don’t change.

I’m leaving the boat in San Jose Del Cabo until the middle of January, than The Admiral is coming to help me move it to La Paz where the dockage is much less expensive. We’re in La Ventana now, kiting for a few weeks, change of pace,something to mix it up. I woke up the past four nights with no clue where we were, wondering who’s on watch, how come the boats not rocking….? Panic until I realize everything’s ok. I’ve been sleeping very soundly, something different than when we’re at anchor.

The plan, as of now and that could change, is that I’m flying back to California to refill the coffers until mid March. The wind will be settled down in the Sea Of Cortez by than, & the water will be warming up, so more fish will be here for the catching. We’ll sail around aimlessly for a few months, April, May and June, before having to make the decision to leave the boat in San Carlos or bash back up to Santa Cruz. Putting decisions off until they absolutely need to be made.

But for today, we’ll kite La Bahia De La Ventana with reckless abandon, and embrace the food groups crucial to any Mexican vacation: fish tacos, cold beer, shot o’tequilla, repeat.

Tor

After 38 hours of travel, and I call it travel not sailing because we motored most of the time, we arrived at Cabo San Lucas. We dragged the fishing lures the entire way and ate canned corn and top ramen but no fish. As the sun was rising we were an hour out from Cabo, fishing boat after fishing boat after fishing boat passed us to go froth the water further out. Not sure how the fish have a chance with all those lines crisscrossing the water. We got here at 0900 and it was pretty quiet, things hadn’t heated up yet as we would soon find out.

We passed a 965 foot cruise ship in the middle of the night and were watching the movie they were playing on deck with our binoculars, Moana, a good one. After anchoring here in Cabo another monster cruise ship came in after us and anchored 200 yards behind us. The water is really deep here so we’re all nestled together close to the shore. Soon the boats started to show up, first a few “glass bottom/taxis” then the jet skis anchored in a line next to us waiting for a tourist with the fat wallet. Then they started dragging people up into the air on parachutes behind boats, at one point I counted 8 dangling people two hundred feet above the water at once. Of course the beach was filled with sunburned gringos drinking fancy over priced cocktails and wearing perfectly matched beachwear.

This morning we snorkeled out by the famous arches near the entrance to the bay….with about 50 other snorkelers, 30 scuba divers, people out of control in rented kayaks, standup paddle boarders, sail boats wizzing by and one entrepreneur making tacos. It was amazing, probably the best snorkeling I’ve ever seen, all kinds of fish and they were not afraid of us at all as it’s a protected area. To bad Fireball couldn’t bring his speargun, we would be eating well tonight.

As the sun started going down, things quieted some, jets skis were dragged back and parachutes packed away for tomorrow’s daredevil. Until……the party boats came out! Big ones. Two pirate ships, catamarans, sailboats and power boats. One with fire dancers, one with a live band playing ‘80’s rock and roll, all with blinking lights all colors of the rainbow, blaring fast paced music and most with a DJ screaming “DrinkDrinkDrink!” We sat on our little sailboat in the middle of all this awestruck at the debauchery of it all. Remember where we’ve been these past two months: mostly small fish camps where they gave us just caught lobsters. The all mighty dollar has really changed this place to an adult Disneyland playground. We couldn’t hear the shore life, even though it was close, over the music in the bay. I’m sure it was hopping also, prying dollar bills from the pockets of all who were there.

I woke up with a start this morning to loud close noises. Another huge cruise ship was anchoring behind us. Its small ferry boats already launching, before it even stopped moving, to bring waiting tourists to shore to purchase stuff. It’s now 1:30 and it’s pulling up anchor, ready to move on to the next port with rare trinkets to give family back home. The last of the ferries is just being tucked back up on deck. Next stop: Mazatlán by morning. The wind just picked up and we watched a string of seven jets skis float by after dragging anchor. I guess the bent rebar didn’t hold. They missed our boat by 20 feet, Gabe really wanted to go “rescue” them hoping to get free rides for all. They got almost to the cruise ship before one of the jet ski guys with a Santa hat went after them.

Let’s just say there’s lots to observe here. Tomorrow moving to San Jose del Cabo to drop Gabe and Amelia off, they fly home Friday. Sad face.

Tor

Left San Jaunico, aka Scorpion Bay, after getting some really fun waves there, two days ago. We left that morning, dragging the lures, as always. I was just settling down for an afternoon nap, the boat was sailing along under full main and jenny nicely, making good time, when the fishing line started screaming. Gabe was the first one to it and by the time I made it on deck he was fighting what seemed like a monster. Fireball coaching him “tighten the drag….play him…not too much!” The line was zipping off the reel, thought for sure he was going to spool us, run out of line! I pulled in sail to slow the boat. Then the other line we had out started screaming! Fireball jumped on it and started playing a second one. I pulled in all sail and started the engine.

We’ve caught 10 bonito tuna on the way here, a good fish, decent fighter and yummy on the BBQ. Fireball, our hunter, got 2 mackerel at anchor one night and could have filled the boat with them but we weren’t sure if they were good eating, they were delicious. He has taken with his speargun 3 perch, 3 calico bass and 2 sheepshead, all great eating! We’ve also been given 11 lobsters from the local fishermen and in return threw them cold beers. We can’t take lobsters ourselves, as it’s not only illegal for us to but it’s thier lively hood. However, we sure have seen a lot of lobsters in the water. Almost all the spots we’ve been snorkeling with or without our speargun the locals have come out to make sure we’re not taking lobsters or abalone. Usually a friendly “pescado solomente” is all it takes and they’re on thier way. We were asked to go back to our “ship” once by a group of nervous young guys who came out to check us out. No worries, we’re here as visitors and didn’t want to cause any bad feelings.

So now, we’re out in the middle of the ocean and I have Fireball fighting a big fish on the port side and Gabe fighting, what seems to be a bigger fish, on the starboard. I’m keeping the boat pointed into the wind mostly but maneuvering so the fish don’t go under the boat. Fireball’s fish is coming closer and I get a first glimpse of a yellow fin tuna, a fish that’s on my bucket list to catch. It’s quite a bit bigger than the bonito we’ve been catching and we’re all really excited! They’ve been playing these two for about 20 minutes so far. I gaffed it and we got it onboard, holy cow that thing is big and still not wanting to give up, Fireball put a knee on it and quickly dispatched it. Wow, what a beautiful fish, 29” and about 25lbs. Biggest fish we’ve ever caught, any of us , anywhere, anytime. Gabe is tiring as we’re watching him, Fireball takes over because Gabes left forearm is cramping. It takes Fireball another 15 minutes to bring this one in close enough to gaff him, and he’s in the boat. 36” and about 40lbs! OMG we’re eating tuna for the next few days.

It took Fireball two hours to clean these two fish. One of the fillets as big as an entire bonito. What a beautiful thing, living, somewhat, off the land. My poor hunter hasn’t been able to spear anything here in Santa Maria Cove because we need to finish the tuna first. He’s pointed out there’s all kinds of fish just rite over there that look delicious. Having tuna again on the BBQ tonight with the Admirals homemade teriyaki, yum. Two local fishermen just stopped by offering lobsters, no thank you we’re having tuna.

Tor

Well, sorry I haven’t posted in awhile, there hasn’t been WiFi in these small towns we’ve been in. We’re in San Jaunico now, known as Scorpion Bay. Been surfing really fun waves!

That was Tor, now it’s Amelia. He loves to pawn off blog activities on unassuming children. We out here!!! Tor, Gabe, and I are sitting at a restaurant in the shade drinking beers, waiting for our fish tacos. Tucker stayed on the boat to sleep. He’s pooped from surfing with Gabe for three and a half hours this morning. The past three days we’ve gotten into a routine of morning surfing, then tacos and beer in town, naps back at the boat, then sunset surfing. We haven’t had service for over a week now, which makes it difficult to post, but is pretty frickin nice.We’re burning through all of our books. And eggs. We buy at least 60 eggs every time we come into town and they disappear in a couple days. Still playing Polytopia. Gabe spent $6 the other day to get new levels. Tucker and I tried, but it didn’t work, so we all just try to get Gabe’s phone.

We just finished our food, and our second orders of tacos and beer. Now we’re off to buy more eggs!

I most definitely have had my share of high highs and low lows on this trip. And it’ll switch in a matter of minutes. Example: I’m lying in my birth last night at 0300 tossing and turning, not able to sleep, I’m responsible for these three young adults on my boat and I take that very seriously-or at least my anxiety does. We’re doing an overnight, which means we’re sailing all night, in this case 22 hours, until we get to the next anchorage. We’re taking turns being awake, two hours on, six off…unless you’re me, the captain of the boat and the one with all the weight on his shoulders not sleeping because he’s thinking of all the “what if’s” …..ugh! What the fuck am I doing here? THIS is my “dream”? Not sleeping all night long worrying? Low low! I head up top to have a look see….Amelia is on watch, it’s absolutely beautiful out, half a moon shining, stars everywhere, we sit together and a couple shooting stars go out, the boats moving along nicely, all quiet except for the sound of the water passing over the hull. Not another boat in sight, in fact nothing in sight, just water. Absolutely beautiful! Tears in my eyes. Happy. I’m here and I’m alive experiencing this with my niece. High high!

Now, I did my first official overnight just six weeks ago, on the first night of this trip. My good friend Admiral was with me, the kids hadn’t gotten to the boat yet. I played it off like no worries, I’m all good, but in truth, I was thinking “What have I gotten myself into!?” All the noise of the boat down below, creaking and groaning, is that water coming into the boat? What was that sound, that’s new! Why am I here? Low low. When it was my turn to drive, Admiral had been up for three hours, the moon was full, all sails up, perfect wind from behind. All by myself, steering my beautiful boat that I’ve put so much work and money into. I’m doing it, really out here, living the dream. Again tears in my eyes. High over the top high.

Coming into a new surf spot/anchorage, watching all three kids on the bow jumping up and down at seeing the surf, Gabe going nuts with excitement! High high.

Getting hit with the un-forecasted dreaded Santa Annas, my crew doing exactly what I yell at them over the 30+ knots of wind noise, reducing sail. Most excellent crew. High high. Three hours later pulling into the so-called good anchorage, sun setting, still blowing 30+ knots off shore. What am I doing this for? Why am I here? Low low. An hour later the wind shuts off completely, the water turns to dead glass, look where I am, no one else here, beautiful! High high.

Surfing the first overhead waves I’ve ridden in 15 years, taking off on the first wave, just like riding a bike. Just us, no one else in the water! High high.

I break the macerator pump, operator error. Now a poopy job to fix. Low low. I have Gabe to fix it. High high.

Locals stopping by in their panga to offer us lobsters, with not a thought of anything in return. What? We’re not in the USA anymore. We throw them a couple cold beers.

Not seeing my sweetheart for six long weeks, are you kidding me? Why? Fortunately she’s meeting us in Punta Abreojos in five short days, yay!

Yet another absolutely amazing sunrise, while I let the kids sleep in and I get the boat moving. Quiet, peaceful, beautiful.

Watching Tucker so enthralled with everything fish, hunting them, killing them, cleaning them and cooking them, and all of us eating them.

Another Monday and I’m not working for the man again today!

I’ve slowed down enough to even consider writing. Me? Really? Whoa things have changed.

I guess I’m just an emotional man. One moment I’m selling this freakin hole in the water where my money goes, the next I’m madly in love with my beautiful boat and considering new gadgets. Not sure what I was expecting but I really wasn’t expecting this, perhaps something in the middle every now and then would be fine, but until then this is what I have. And the high highs are out numbering the low lows.

Tor

Gabe was frothing to get some good waves, so he forced Tor to start the engine and pull the anchor and head towards a surf spot called Quattro Casas. Upon arrival we were greeted with the beautiful site of a peeling right point break with good size. Gabe, Tor and I put on our wetsuits and started paddling over after dropping the anchor. We had a killer session with pumping south swell at three feet at sixteen seconds. We met two guys here, one from Colorado and the other from Seattle. Both dudes were camping in their trucks on the cliffs above and we stoked to share the spot with them. We surfed till we couldn’t paddle any longer and headed back to the boat. As the tide and sun dropped Amelia, Gabe, and I went back out to the lineup and snuck in a sunset session. Today was surfing and boat maintenance. Amelia cleaned the entire inside of the boat and it looks immaculate. We’re headed to San Quintin tomorrow at six.

We leave Puerto San Jose towards Cabo Colonet around seven thirty in the morning. I’m awoken around eight by Tor yelling “Fish on, fish on!” as loud as possible. I clamber out of my couch bed in the galley up to the top deck where one of the reels is screaming. I immediately start gathering line and working the fish all while trying to wipe my eyes awake. Tor and I manage to hook, reel, land, and dispatch our catch within ten minutes. Every time we get faster and more efficient. Our catch is a skipjack tuna, twenty eight inches in length, and a very muscular fish. These fish have some serious teeth and are real fighters, so we use thick gloves when dealing with them. They have beautiful dark markings streaming down their flanks with blue and green colors all over their bodies. Just as we were finishing off the first fish, the other reel started giving tons of line. I told Tor to start working on the other rod as I finished securing the first fish. Another skipjack tuna, around the same size as the first. I grabbed the gloves and started to hand line the fish to the boat and up onto the deck. Another fish successfully landed. No less than fifteen minutes later the wind took a sharp rise and began gusting to 20 knots. Tor told me to batten down the hatches. As I was walking down the steps, we were hit by a huge gust and thrown sideways. Everything flew off the shelves and came crashing down to the floor. Amelia leapt up from bed and helped secure the boat. Seconds later Gabe came stumbling out of the forward birth saying, “The surfboards just landed on my head, what’s going on.”

We went from cruising at ten knots to being overwhelmed by 30 knots in five minutes.

Gabe and I were called to the top decks and were given orders to put a reef in the jib. Putting a reef in a sail means pulling the sail in to make it grab less wind to be more in control if there is too much wind. It took me and Gabe to pull in the jib only five feet, where it usually is easy with one person. The jib is the sail that hangs over the bow in front of the main sail. After we finished that Tor wanted to put a reef in the main also. We had to heave in order to put the main sail down just a couple of feet. A heave-to is where you point the boat up into the wind and let the jib just slightly pull the boat forward so there isn’t any pressure on the main sail. So while Tor steered, Gabe and I grabbed the sail at the base of the mast and pulled it down about ten feet, secured it, and headed back to the cockpit. Amelia was down below making sure nothing was going to breaking or leaking. As soon as we turned back down wind, gallons of water poured over the bow and streamed along the sides of the boat, soaking everything. We were still too overpowered, even with a reef in each sail, so Tor decided to take the jib away completely. Gabe and I pulled the jib in. We were sailing with just the main and were still going fast but it was manageable. This was a Santa Ana, a strong wind storm that always blows offshore in Southern California and Baja. It took us by surprise. Normally we wouldn’t be out in these conditions, but we all worked together and performed perfectly.

We came around the corner of Cabo Colonet and were relieved to see that it was protected. Exhausted, we set anchor and I began to work on the fish. Four giant fillets were for dinner. We couldn’t finish it all, so tuna for lunch tomorrow.

We’re anchored in 15 feet of water in Puerto Santo Tomás. First thing after setting the anchor Gabe jumps into his wetsuit, crashes into the bathtub saltwater and tears off towards some waves. One to three foot waves are peeling one-hundred feet from our starboard side, right next to a small fleet of ten pangas. Amelia and I are close behind him, eyeing a small patch of kelp forest to go snorkeling in about one-hundred feet south of the waves. We see a plethora of Garibaldi curiously swimming towards us to investigate the new creatures who appeared from above then darting away as soon as we get to close. Garibaldi are bright orange in color about the size of dinner plates. I haven’t looked into why, but these fish are on the no take list so even though I have a speargun in hand it is not pointed at the Garibaldi. We keep swimming in about ten feet of water looking for something that’s moving but no luck. Amelia’s done with the barren sea floor and heads back to the boat. I swim closer to shore hoping for some more activity and sure enough I come across a small school of Opal-eye perch. The fish are tucked under a ledge of kelp grass about twelve feet below the surface. These are good eating fish and there are a few that are good size. I take a deep breath and dive down to a ledge about six feet deep, holding onto the rocky outcropping I aim the spear and tag a good sized perch. I pull the spear back to myself and dispatch my catch under the water. I am ecstatic that I am finally figuring out how to move through the water with a forty-five inch speargun and actually hit something with it. I wave my hand in the air above the surface and dad comes over with the dingy to tow me back.

When I arrive at the boat Gabe’s still catching surf and the break looks like it is really working well. Him being the only out there and catching every wave seems to good to be true, so Tor and I grabbed our boards and headed out to meet him. The waves were small but you cannot beat having a spot all to yourself in the middle of nowhere.

That night we had fresh tuna, perch, and cold beer after a mellow surf session off the coast of Baja.