Covid-19 isn't over in Mexico, not by a long shot. But the people here, like everywhere I suppose, have grown weary of the precautions. So they are sliding.
What it means is that La Cruz is going through a restart. Restaurants are re-opening. Bars too.
We now begin to hear live music around town.
And the streets are filling up with people again. No Masks, no distancing.
It's not the same in the major stores. The regulations are being followed there, but in the local shops...not really.
The silly thing is that the danger of catching Covid here is just as bad as it was in May, worse maybe.
People are still getting sick, still dying. But the population has just decided to take the risk.
We've been going out occasionally the whole time, since we got back from our cruise. Shopping once a week, and we've had a couple of nice meals at La Pesca too.
Today we decided we wanted Tacos. It was Taco Sunday we heard.
So we went to Tacos On The Street. Prime Rib tacos Mexican style.
We got a table on the side walk. It was good.
So maybe there is a restart of life in Mexico this October. We hope it does not end tragically.
We went for an art walk on the streets of La Cruz to photograph the fantastic murals which have just been painted as part of the Cuidad Murals project.
Amazing! We ended the day at Octopus' Garden to watch Parasite
There are a lot of activities here in La Cruz in January and February but for us racing is at the top of the list. So when I stood at the trophy case of Vallarta yacht Club reading the names of the past winners of the Vallarta Cup and seeing Wings’ fourth place this year it was a bit of a shock, especially considering our first overall three times in the previous four years. We’ve been sailing hard this year and having fun doing it, and in the opening regatta of the year, as we wrote previously, we were first, dominatingly so, but this time the results weren’t there.
How do we explain that fourth place?
The truth is that we are sailing against a small group of really good sailors who all want to win as bad as we do. This year everyone has been sailing well and they deserve to win.
And this year we had some problems.
For one thing we’ve had some personnel issues. Four people are out for the year due to injuries, three shoulder injuries, a back injury, and another with arm injuries. None of these have occurred on the boat (it seems that walking around in Mexico is more dangerous than sailing on Wings) but we’ve had to find replacements nevertheless. Also we’ve had people take off to go cruising on their own boats, so we needed more replacements. And some of the replacements have not worked out. The net is that there has a lot of been crew turnover.
As for ourselves, Judy and I have remained committed to our workout regimen and think we are pretty fit, but even we have found that our old bodies are showing signs of stress. This week Judy has started treatment for a shoulder injury herself.
Our constantly rotating crew is doing their best and they are pretty good; a few are real stars but some boat handling problems have occurred which cost us time and these can be traced partially to inexperienced crew.
A complicating factor is that our tactics and helming have suffered while we try to deal with on-the-job training of the crew. It is hard to stay focused on tactics while you are trying to watch what 10 other people are doing.
Putting it all together, facing tough competition, rebuilding our crew, and less than stellar tactics…it’s not surprising that we are behind the curve this year.
Still, in competition there will always be winners and losers. The good thing is that we love to get out on the water and always try to do our best.
Despite our racing performance sailing has been good with good winds and good friends aboard and otherwise life in La Cruz has been pretty nice too as it always is this time of year. The weather is glorious, the music scene in La Cruz is booming with great new bands and live music playing somewhere every night, usually at more than one place. Sometimes we have to force ourselves to cut back and not go out every night. Local activities have also been fun. If our sailboat racing has been less than stellar, the La Cruz Kids Club has been able to put on a terrific regatta with toy boats built out of scraps and trash. wingssail images-fredrick roswold
Boat work, car work: We’ve been making progress against our project lists and keeping up with occasional mechanical problems. Keeping our old Chrysler in good shape has required some investment. A total front end rebuild has helped with the speed bump issues, and we have some other fixes completed and more upcoming. The boat, of course always provides repair opportunities. At the moment we have two water tanks out and new ones being built. The good news on both the car and the boat is that the repairs cost less here in Mexico then they have elsewhere. We’re happy that we feel that we can keep our vehicles in good nick.
The busy social life we fall into each year in La Cruz is in full swing.
Of course we’ll be sailing a lot now that sailing season is here and have already started that, and there is pool Volley Ball, and Mexican train Dominos. More on these later.
It seems like a while ago, but it was only last month, we dressed up and went to the Halloween Party at the Tree House Bar. The costumes were not prize winners but scary enough.
And Sunday Market has started, which is always a combination social scene and shopping trip, (if you can get out of bed early enough on Sunday Morning).
Then there are always opportunities to take a land trip or two. We drove with Deborah to Tepic. She had business at the couthouse there and we just wanted a ride.
The forecast was good for an afternoon thermal and when we came out of the marina we saw ripples on the bay that looked promising so we put the small jib on deck and set first the mainsail and then the jib.
The thermal never came in and the wind stayed light but we were sailing and we enjoyed a slow and pleasant sail to the west, tacking along the rocky coast in the warm sunshine. Some other boats were out and not doing much either and even with our small jib we soon put them behind us except one which we decided was Southern Cross, the Westsail 42 owned by our friend Steve. He and Janet had a huge genoa out and a full main and they were making surprisingly good time up the coast in the light air but they were sailing outside, away from the coastline. We preferred to sail inside, close to the shore, which usually gives good results against boats outside.
Each tack we made I thought would put us ahead of Southern Cross as there was a right hand shift and current too which was against them but their wind was a little stronger and they kept their distance ahead. Finally I told Judy we had to tack out and catch the breeze even though the best strategy here is normally to stay in. We’ve won a lot of races by staying in close along this coast but today it looked like going out would pay and so we tacked onto starboard and held on until we passed behind Southern Cross. When we felt the wind increase we tacked back.
Soon, however, the thermal came as forecast. It was late, but it came and we then had a nice, building, west wind. Soon it was 20knots. With our small jib and everything tight we started to climb out to weather of Southern Cross. Meanwhile with their big genoa they were soon over powered. As we made distance to weather on them we also benefitted from the right hand shift which occurs along this shore.
Southern Cross was far to leeward when we finally tacked into the bay at Punta Mita. I think they might have beaten us if they had sailed closer inshore. Anyhow, it was a good sail for all.
Going up the coast here, from La Cruz to Punta Mita, is one of my favorite sails. We race this route several times each year, sometimes to one of the Beer Can marks which can be placed along the way, sometimes all the way to Mita and we quite often beat other boats who are sailing against us. By now we know each rocky outcrop and each cove and bay and where the wind always shifts and where the current runs. We know the best strategy for sailing it and I never tire of it, and still after five years here doing this, almost every time we learn another subtlety or little trick. It’s really fun.
Let me tell you how it works:
In this chart image I have made notes about what works best.
First of all the route is about 9 miles and the wind almost always is westerly when we first sail out of La Cruz, or Southwesterly to be more accurate. Going to Punta Mita, therefore, is a beat. There is always a choice one can make on this beat. You can sail long tacks far out into the bay or you can short tack the beach. Because the wind, which starts out southwesterly, consistently shifts to the north the farther along you go, which presents as a right shift, it pays to stay to the right. You can see our track (in yellow) on this chart. I’ve put the starboard tack headings on each tack. You can see we start out sailing 198, then 220, then 254, and on the final starboard tack we get a huge lift from 254 up to 284. (I didn’t show the headings after point “E” because there we were taking down the sails as we approached the anchorage.) This is a 90 degree shift and occurs on any day when there is a thermal wind. If you are racing, staying to the right side is essential. Boats that go outside sail a much further distance. Even on the track we took there were places we could have saved more distance and time. Note the blue lines, one set at point “B” and the other set at point “C”. If we had tacked back in at both of those places, following the blue lines, we’d have cut significant distance off the course. The extra tack from point “C” to “D” and then to “E” would have saved nearly ½ of a mile alone. Since we were not racing that day we just took it easy and didn’t do all the tacks we could have.
How far in do we go and how soon should we tack back when going out? Mike Danielson knows this strategy too and he just likes to stay on the “shelf” which extends out to about the 70’ depth line so he tacks back when he reaches that depth. We prefer staying in closer than that. Going out we always tack back towards the shore as soon as we have a good line to clear the next rocky point. There are several of these points and they have off lying rocks lurking under water as extensions of what you can see. We tack in when we know that we can clear the next point and sail into the cove beyond it. You should stay away from the points but you can sail quite far into the bays and we often go into 20 feet of water there, which seems very close but there are no dangers. The water is clear enough and you can see the color change as you approach the shallow areas.
Also, going out puts you into the current. There is a clockwise flowing current in Banderas Bay which seems to be present regardless of the state of the tide. On this beat from La Cruz to Punta Mita you are sailing against that current. The current is less close to shore and at some places there are back eddies which actually help you go against the prevailing flow.
When we race here there are almost always some boats which try to go outside. It’s understandable because often the wind is stronger outside and when they hit that wind the boat speed goes up and they heel over and it feels really great. But when it’s time to tack back in they see that they will come in behind the boats which didn’t go out.
Finally, the best part of this wind shift is the final leg to Punta Mita when your starboard tack is one long lift which can actually carry you right up into the anchorage. You must be in close to get the most out of this lift. On the shore just west of where I have marked “56 Beer Can X” there is a square white house right on the bluff behind the beach. You must be in close at that house. Be careful to stay out of the surf line but go in close on port tack at this point and then when you go onto starboard you will have the best of all worlds: Nice lifting breeze and a flat water.
Next time we will discuss the spinnaker run back.
Enjoy.
Click here for more photos (and a repeat of the sailing strategy.
Deborah and Kelly invited us to their house for the Super Bowl and everyone pitched in to make Tamales. Well, then Kelly had to go to the USA so he missed it, but never mind we had fun making tamales and eating them at half time, plus, the Super Bowl was fun, even without Kelly.
We always like going to Deborah and Kelly's place, it is almost like being outdoors, the kitchen is open to the outside patio and the colorful walls inside makes everyone as happy as Deborah always is. Maybe her house makes her happy. Plus Kelly always has plenty of good stuff to drink and he even left it for us when he couldn't be there.
But that tamale making! That is a project. Judy and Elinore and Janet and Lynne and Deborah all worked on it making ingredients the day before and then putting them all together on Super Bowl day. We had four kinds of filling but once the tamale is wrapped in the corn husk you can't tell what's inside, so they tied the tamales with different numbers of knots. The we couldn't remember if three was chicken or veggie, well you know, there was some tequila going around.
But it was all good and with two big screens to watch the game on we all had good seats.
After 79 days in the Sea of Cortez Wings returns to La Cruz, in Banderas Bay on the Mexican mainland coast.
Most of our sailing days on this cruise were upwind days, tacking against contrary winds which were usually coming from exactly the way we wanted to go. Upwind or not we enjoyed it; Wings is great upwind and the weather was nice on those sailing days, cool and clear. The Sea of Cortez, especially on the Baja side during Springtime, is refreshing and rarely too hot. But coming back to La Cruz we left the clear, cool, dry, weather of the Baja and returned to the heat and humidity of Banderas Bay. In Baja, on the day we left, we could see land 48 miles away from us. In Banderas Bay land is lost in haze only 12 miles distant. But La Cruz is home to us now and we are happy to be returning, heat or no heat, haze or no haze.
And the wind was at last behind us. Coming into Banderas Bay we caught the afternoon thermal and we set the kite, our old and scraggly Eddie Fracker kite from 1990, but it still works. In 16 knots of wind, dead downwind, we marveled at the nice sailing conditions which we love in this place and the lush green jungle covering the land, and, yes, even the heat.
Welcome home Wings
We have not yet finished editing the photos, we'll catch up with that later.
The days of August slid by. They were sweet days because we’ve continued to go to the gym and the hard workouts leave us with a glow which lasts through the rest of the day. They were slow because other than go to the gym we didn’t do much. We did a few small projects but not many worth mentioning. There were a lot of naps.
There were some things which we had on the list and which we wanted to do that didn’t even get started. They are still on the list. There were sewing projects and we’ve been waiting for materials to do them. August was supposed to be a sewing month. The material was ordered in June and it still has not been delivered. We’re learned the hard way not to depend on others to bring things into Mexico for us. It’s better to use a shipping company and pay the customs duty.
It’s been a rainy month and we enjoy that. When the dark clouds move in and the mountains are lost in the lowering gloom, somehow that makes us content, and there is something about being down below in our boat when the wind and rain thrash around outside which makes us feel cozy and safe.
We’ve taken a few day trips around the area, like up to the dam on the River Amica. We thought we might see some pleasant countryside and even get up into the mountains. We took the camera. But a flat tire which had to be fixed gave us a late start and by mid afternoon, before even getting far up into the foothills, we turned back. The weather looked threatening and we’d already crossed several low spots on the road where streams flooded the highway. We worried about getting back down that road if the rain came in heavy, which is not unusual this time of year. The overall grayness spoiled the photo ops a bit too, but the dam was interesting.
Another trip to San Pancho for lunch was pleasant enough. Lynn went with us and while our favorite BBQ restaurant was closed we found another one, had a nice lunch and afterwards got margaritas to go.
One thing I’ve been working on, just for fun, has been a boat design project. Inspired by a photo I saw on the wall of a restaurant once long ago, and remembered ever since, I decided to replicate it in a modern boat, not replicate the boat itself, just do the design. Learning a new CAD/CAM program and working out the details of large sailing yacht has kept me busy for many hours this month. It has been fun and it is getting close to being finished, at least to a point. I’ll share it when it is. Judy has been observing and offering suggestions through this process and her input has improved the design.
Now it is September, hurricane month. We have been watching the storms march up the coast and then turn away before they reach Banderas Bay all summer. But in September they can get stronger and sometimes stay closer to the coastline. We have to watch them closely.
Other than that it is workouts, boat projects (if we ever get our materials), and time to start thinking about the arrival of the winter sailing season.
Mike Danielson, owner of PV Sailing and North Sails rep, is an artist as well as a sailmaker and a great sailor. He is well known among the deep sea fishing set for his fantastic art prints of large game fish.
I caught up with Mike recently at the annual La Cruz Sports Fishing Tournament where he was preparing to make prints of some of the largest game fish including one of the tourney winning Black Marlins. This giant fish, at 198 kilograms, was a beautiful specimen, and the fishermen who brought it in were justifiably proud. By creating an exact art image of the fish it's power and beauty can be retained for years to come.
On the top of the breakwater around our marina there is a promenade called the Malecon.
It is a place that is enjoyed by families of this community out for a walk in the evening, a run, to do some exercise, or just to view the Bay and the mountains beyond.
The Malecon is part of the scene where we live. It goes with the small town of La Cruz, the blue ocean, the mountains in the distance, the birds, sea life and the quiet docks where our boat is moored.
From the deck of Wings I can watch the activity on the Malecon. On some evenings, and there are many of them, I go on deck to use the BBQ and I watch the Malecon.
I take a glass of scotch, put on some music, and while my steaks cook I watch the chicas jogging with their ponytails flying and the kids zooming along on their skateboards, or the parents pushing a stroller and the fitness students straining their muscles while their kids play nearby.
There is something about watching the Malecon which I love.
I can see the palm trees gently waving, the birds circling, the tall mountains in the distance and all the people living out a rich part of their lives.
jldigitalmedia images Working the Beach in BBR
We've been busy the last few weeks with races, practices, sail repair and work on the salvage of our friend's boat. Now we're catching up with four new stories.
Click here to read about the loss of Rage, Barry Ruff's beautiful Wylie 39. A sad day.
Click here for a report of our intense practice days.
Click here to read about the end of our great old golden racing sails.
We came face to face with Connie. She was distraught.
“Fred, Fred, Can you help us? It’s Barry, he’s aground!”
“Where is he?” I wasn’t overly concerned, after all lots of boats touch bottom once in a while.
“Just outside the marina, next to the channel”.
“Ok I’ll see what I can do.” Connie ran off.
I walked, in no particular hurry, down to dock 11 where I could see the entrance channel. What I saw then struck me in the heart like an ice cold knife blade. There was Rage, in plain sight, completely on her side in the surf to the east of the channel. This was not a grounding, it was a wreck.
Now I moved. I whirled around. Nikk was there. I said, “We have to get out there, Barry needs help.”
“We can take the electric dingy,” he said.
Better than nothing. We ran to his dock and took off in the little Avon with the electric fishing motor on the back. It was painfully slow. In 5 minutes, 5 very long minutes, we got to the scene. Rage was in the surf. Two Mexican boys were on the bow trying to get lines attached and two fishing pangas were standing by to try to tow it off. There were three of four other dinghies hovering around, outside of the surf line. I could not see Barry on board his boat.
“I’ve got to get in there but not in this Avon,” I said. No way could it negotiate the surf with its pitiful little electric motor. “There’s Eddie, take me to Eddie.”
“Eddie, Eddie,” I yelled, “how is that motor? Is it strong?”
“Yeah, it’s good.” He asked, “Why?”
“Eddie, I have to get to that boat, will you take me?”
Eddie looked skeptical, but he said, “Well, I have to get rid of this anchor.”
There was a 75lb plow and about 500 feet of heavy line in his dingy. We transferred it to Nikk’s boat, and I gave Nikk my phone and wallet, and Eddie and I and headed into the surf.
“Do you think we can make it Fred?” Eddie was looking at the white water.
“Yes, we can do it.” The force of my will was irresistible; there was no way Eddie could stop me from going there. It was as if my intensity moved his hand on the tiller. All I could think of was Barry on that boat, in trouble.
“Wait until a wave goes past then gun it in there, just don’t get caught sideways to one. If a wave comes, turn into it.” We roared off toward Rage.
We got along side Rage between waves and I jumped onto the foredeck. I turned to Eddie said, “Now get out of here and if a wave catches you, jump onto the bow tube.”
Just then a good sized breaker came rolling in and as his boat stood on its end I saw Eddie leap to the front tube and he got his boat over it then floored the engine. Before the next wave came he was well out past the breakers waves and going like hell.
But I’d already turned away.
Rage was grounded on its side and moving in the waves, there were rocks, big rocks everywhere. Things didn’t look good, but I didn’t see Barry. The boat was unmanned except me and the Mexicans who were soon to scamper off. (Once the cavalry had arrived they were happy to depart, anyhow, it was clear that no pangas were towing this boat anywhere.) Then Barry came wading out through the surf and climbed aboard. He couldn’t row his Redcrest through the surf. Tomiko, from the yacht Landfall, was right behind him. Barry unlocked the door and he dropped into the leaning boat’s interior. Tomiko followed him. There was sea-water inside and it rushed in and out with each wave.
“She’s a goner,” Barry said.
I asked, “Is it holed?“ Of course it was.
Tomiko looked up at me and said, “I’m standing on a couple of big rocks, there is no side here.”
She handed me her handheld radio and I climbed to the top of the overturned boat and keyed the mic.
“This is Fred on Rage. All you boats in the vicinity who can get here we need a lot of help.” By now more people were wading out. Mike Ferguson came in through the surf with his kayak.
I said, “Watch out for that rock,” and he swerved just in time to avoid getting dashed on a big boulder which was next to Rage. Then he climbed aboard.
Mike Danielson, of PV Sailing showed up on the beach and came up on the radio, asking for any boats that could help to come to the beach.
“Mike, this is Fred. I’m on Rage, I’ll coordinate from here on the radio.”
Then I turned back to Barry, “Barry, you have to start thinking about what you need to get out of this boat before it breaks up.”
Barry just muttered, “Shit, shit, shit.”
“Mike, we need people out here to carry stuff off, maybe buckets to put things in.”
Mike relayed that. Now there were several people making their way out through the surf. It was about waist deep, but the waves were two feet higher than that.
“Barry, we have to get stuff off the boat.”
“I heard you the last time!” He shouted, but it was like he was paralyzed. All he was doing was turning this way and that, looking at the destruction.
Barry’s big red kayak was on the foredeck and Ferguson launched it. Somebody threw some bedding into the kayak. I realized that was a good idea.
“Form a line, like a bucket brigade, and pass that kayak to shore then send it back out.”
“Mike, we need more kayaks, see if you can get some kayaks here.”
“Right, Fred.”
Soon there were four kayaks being passed back and forth and piles of stuff from Rage were accumulating on the beach. Nobody though was even thinking that there was any way we could save the boat. It was two hundred feet from shore and two hundred feet inside the surf line the other way. You couldn’t get to it with a barge or a land based crane. Dragging it across the rock would pulverize it even further.
But we worked hard, probably 50 people were helping and a few trucks and ATV’s were on the shore, having come down through the resort properties. Mike D was sending loads of stuff offsite. I stayed on Rage working the radio. I kept looking down inside to see how people were doing. They were in the gloom, standing in the surging sea water, pulling things out of drawers and cabinets, which they passed out the hatches into the waiting kayaks. Ferguson was unscrewing electronics. Barry was working now, harder than anybody.
One of the dinghies offshore rigged a long line and a big kedge anchor to hold the boat. Barry’s anchor was already there but obviously it was fouled in its own chain and wasn’t going to hold anything. That was how the boat got here in the first place. Somehow, on what was a pretty normal day with winds under 15 knots, Rage’s anchor just let go and she just took off down wind. It’s happened to me; they go fast when they go like that. Nobody got to it before it was in the surf. We didn’t know what happened. The anchor was good, the chain new, there was plenty of scope for 20 feet of water, and Barry was on the boat most days checking it and he re-set the anchor often. On the day it was lost his friend Ferguson had been there 30 minutes before it started to drag. It was fine.
Then it was gone. The chain must have wrapped around the flukes.
This anchorage is bad, the holding isn’t particularly good and the wind shifts direction about 180 degrees twice a day. Every month somebody’s boat drags here, but someone always grabs them before they get shore. Not today.
By 7:00PM the light was starting to fade, I radioed Mike, “Mike, we’ve got to start getting people off this boat, it will be dark soon.” A few kept working but mostly people started to turn away and wade back to shore.
I had been there since 4:30, I was the first guy on the boat, and now I was the last to leave at 7:30, after everyone else got off. I had to drag Mike Ferguson out of the interior where he was still removing electronic equipment.
In my bare feet I could not walk across the boulders and rocks. Somebody grabbed each of my arms and helped me ashore. Barry was already gone, I didn’t know where, but Barry was shattered, I was to find, and he could not face this scene. He left that night and was not to come back to the beach where Rage lay wrecked. I guess I understand that, after all, he built the boat by hand and it was his home. It would take Barry a lot of time to come to grips with this loss.
Over the next few days we had several work parties and removed all of Rage’s equipment, everything, including the engine, and finally, after the surf had washed the hulk all the way up to the sand, we got a crane close to it, and after we removed the keel and mast, the hull was lifted up the beach and dropped gently onto the sand in front of a house. It was still precious.
Finally one day we went back to carry the mast away, 12 men hoisted it onto our shoulders and carried it the mile down the beach to the road. That was when the tragedy of this loss finally struck me.
I walked through the hole in the side of Rage. It was like a cut-out for some kind of morbid display, her bones open for inspection. I looked in the forward cabin; it was littered with sand and debris. I’ve seen wrecks before, you look at them and they seem so ruined and discarded. It is usually hard to imagine them in better times. But this was different. I knew this boat. Rage was, just a few days before, a beautiful, living, creature, all varnish and shining wood. It danced lightly at its mooring, ready to go sailing, wanting to go sailing. Now it was just bones in the sand.
The summer in La Cruz was long and the days were hot. We moved slowly during those hot days. We had work to do on the boat before the start of racing season but that seemed far in the future and we never really felt much pressure about the work; there were many days in which to do it. In all that heat and humidity we were happy if we did at least one thing constructive every day but we let siesta take up most of the afternoons. July rolled by, August, September…October. October? Oh my gosh. It hit us that there wasn’t much time left. Now, all of a sudden, racing season was almost upon us and we were just barely getting the boat ready. Or were we even doing that? There were still some issues, big ones.
So when October came we knuckled down to work. First, the cockpit. The cockpit sole was soft and had been for a while. The balsa core was rotten. Replacing it was a job we’d been putting off, for years actually, but it got worse over the summer. We began to worry about the possibility of someone crashing through the sole to the main salon below. We attacked it with a grinder and a cutting blade. We ripped off the fiberglass skin. We ripped out the old balsa. Then we replaced it with new wood, good Mexican wood, and plenty of epoxy, and put all back together. What a job. Well now it’s done, it’s plenty strong, and it looks good.
We also got the primary winch fixed. The drum on starboard primary winch broke one afternoon. Like a sailor with scurvy it started losing its teeth. The aluminum teeth were falling out like crazy. Remedying this took some decision making. We could buy new drums from Allen Hutton in Australia, at a price which was pretty high for us, or we could buy some used winches, sight un-seen, on EBay. We decided instead to try to get a local machine shop to fix our broken one with new stainless steel gear teeth. I’d almost rather have gone to the dentist. It took nearly a month to complete this work and there were several return trips to the machine shop to get it right. I won’t say it’s perfect yet, even now it clangs like a cow bell when free-wheeled but we think it will work.
Then there are the sails. The heavy #1 genoa was cupping in the leech and needed a bit of a recut. The mainsail also needed some minor repair work on its leech, but to increase the longevity not to change the shape. We took them both into the loft earlier in the summer and got them back in October. Jim Slosson, my old college buddy, went sailing with us to take a look. The jib was good and it we knew it will help us this year but the main still needed more work. Back to the shop it went. This was getting old. When it came back a second time and still wasn’t right I did some sewing on it myself. But it’s ready now.
All this last minute stuff was somewhat nerve wracking; the first race was scheduled for November 25 and we weren’t ready. We would have gone out, ready or not, even if we had to use the Dacron main, but on top of everything else crew was an issue. So we were relieved when the race was cancelled.
Actually, as of that first Wednesday race, we didn’t have a crew. Last year’s bunch has largely broken up and moved on. We needed a new group. Finding them was one task we couldn’t do much on during the summer; there isn’t anyone around here to recruit from then, although I tried. We did line up a team for the second race, which was Dec 2, and we sailed. The new crew turned out to be terrific. In fact they were great. Now if only we can keep them. Most of this bunch are cruisers themselves and cruisers tend to move on so we don’t know. Right now things are still fluid. By January we hope to have a solid, well trained, regular, crew.
That race on Dec 2nd was our first of the season, and it turned out pretty good. The wind was light, almost nonexistent, but we sailed well in it and kept moving. We led most of the way. The finish was close and Blue, the J-160, which finally overtook us on the last leg, beat us over the line so we finished second. But we believe they didn’t finish properly so in that case we won, but, of course, that was argued for hours at the after race party, to no conclusion. We’re happy anyway.
Now we’re in the boat yard, hauled out for bottom paint and a new propeller, so we’ll miss the next race, but after that the season will be in full swing and we’ll be back at it...
The Day of the Dead. It’s three days of holidays honoring the dead in Mexico and it kicks off on Halloween. We heard that the locals would be building private altars using sugar skulls and marigolds and placing on them the favorite foods and beverages of the departed. We also knew there would be Halloween parties at some of the local expat bars over the course of the weekend, but nothing seemed exciting enough to get us in the mood to venture out. On Friday night, to top off the gloom, it was raining. We planned to stay home the whole weekend.
But at 6:30PM Friday a sudden radio announcement broke the silence: “A Day of the Dead ceremony will be held at the altars to the dead, in Marina, at 7:30. Dancing of the Dead Catrinas will be featured.”
This was a surprise; we hadn’t heard anything about it, and it was pretty short notice.
And what ARE the Dead Catrinas? We looked it up: “La Catrina has become the referential image of Death in Mexico, it is common to see her embodied as part of the celebrations of Day of the Dead throughout the country;” There were photos of skeletons dressed as women.
I said that it might be a good photo opportunity despite the rain (it was still raining pretty much cats and dogs).
Judy said, “Go ahead, I’ll do the dishes and get a movie ready.”
So I pulled on some long pants (just to honor the dead), put a long lens on the Nikon, and headed off to town in the rain.
Well, I found the altars and the favorite foods and beverages and the ceremony which was already in progress. It wasn’t much, just a few dancers braving the rain and the “Dead Catrinas” huddled under a tent nearby. What with the dreary weather and the late notice there wasn’t much of a crowd either. And, from a photographer’s point of view, there wasn’t much in the way of light. There was music, there were dancers, but there were darn few lights around. I started shooting anyway; maybe I could get a few shots.
The lights that were there disappeared when the first act packed up their stuff and left and I realized that any more photos were going to be pretty much impossible. I wondered if I should rethink my abhorrence of artificial light and buy a flash unit someday; there are times, I thought.
I used the light on my phone once or twice. Well, I tried, it seemed feeble.
I’ve always been impressed by the size of the outboard motors on many of the sports fishing boats seen around the marina. Big V6 Mercury Verados and bigger V8 Yamaha’s with 300 or more horse power are common, and I know from my powerboating days that one of these would be sufficient to push a 30 open boat at 30 or 40 knots and out on the water they are usually seen chuffing along with wives and kids going about 25. So why all the power? Ok, there is a safety issue at work: dual motors gives a “get home” security if one fails. But if it was just about safety how about two 175 hp motors? Nope you never see that. You see twin 300’s or twin 350’s. I guess it’s just machismo. Apparently no self-respecting Mexican boat owner would settle for less than two huge motors as long as his buddy down the dock has two. So we see rows of these boats with dual monsters on the back. Top Dog
But I was blown away to see the yellow Everglades 32footer with THREE Yamaha 350 V8’s on the back. Now that’s some lot of power, 1050hp, $60,000 worth of motors, and they weigh 800 lbs each! I have no idea if the owner has them set up and prop’d to extract all that power, but if so I’d image we’re looking at a 100mph fishing boat. Hardly seems likely.
But it’s toppable.
Wow!
When in Malaysia I spotted in Telaga Marina a big rib purportedly owned by Mahathir Mohamad, Malaysia’s Prime minister at the time, which went one bigger.
Puerto Vallarta staged a taco festival in old town last Sunday where local restaurants set up booths to sell samples of their tacos. It was going to be free admittance, featured some folk dancing, and lots of good Mexican beer would be on hand. The taco prices were to be 10 pesos ($.55) so we thought we’d go and sample some of our favorite Mexican street food, drink some cervesa, and shoot photos of the dancers. It was also a good excuse to go to old town, which we love and don’t get there too often.
Well, we’re glad we went, the expedition to old town was nice, but the taco fest was a bust. First of all it was packed and the lines were 20-30 minutes long. Even then they could not keep up with the demand. We picked the place with the shortest line, and got what we deserved: second rate tacos. Plus it was an unbearably hot evening, the sun absolutely stung us, and there was no place to sit down. We fled to a nearby bar, ordered two pints of Modelo, and sat in the shade until the sun went down.
Oh, the dancing? Well, it was pretty nice, but the light was bad and the photos were pretty much impossible. One thing I could have done was to shoot photos of the crowd and the taco cooks, but the heat just put me out of the mood. We went home early.
In 1993 I bought a sewing machine. I fixed Judy's shorts and then I made a mainsail. My sailor friends, looking up at that main, said, "That took some balls", but it worked.
Then I made a dodger. That was a bit harder. Professionally built dodgers were running three thousand dollars back then. The good canvas people get paid well for their skills. The dodger I made cost me about $200 in materials and four days of work and it wasn't pretty. However it did the job.
The sewing machine is now over twenty years old but it still works and I'm still making dodgers; I just finished the forth one for Wings. Also we have a lot of the supplies which I bought with the machine. Supplies like thread and tapes and spare bits of sailcloth and especially canvas snaps and fasteners. I've done a lot of projects over the years besides those dodgers and it's amazing that the cache has lasted this long. And the cost to make a dodger is still under $200.
But, even after twenty some years to practice, I'm still making dodgers for Wings which aren't pretty. I guess they work. I have to say, though, I am disappointed in the latest dodger. Geez, I thought I'd get it right sooner or later. But this fourth one isn't much better than the first one. A sail maker once told me that if we screw up on a sail or a piece of canvas we'll have to look at it for years. How true.
Maybe there is an convergence happening here. As years go by I learn more about what needs to be done so the graph of that knowledge slopes upward. At the same time I get older and my capabilities decline. Where the declining line crosses the upward line is where things start getting worse. Maybe that has already happened.
Well, I finished the dodger and we'll use it and it will be fine. I hope I never have to make another one, but I could if I had to. It would remain to be seen if it would actually be better.
There was one nice little miracle which occurred during this project. Right in the middle of it the sewing machine broke. Not a little failure, a total failure; the rotary hook assembly broke. We weren't doing another stitch. I started to think about how to get another rotary hook assembly down here from Sailrite. Wouldn't be fast, that's for sure, and there would be expense out of proportion to the size of this little, but critical, part.
Then a light bulb went off somewhere in the dark folds: I remembered a bag of parts which I've been hoarding for twenty years. What's the chance of one of these assemblies being in that bag?
I dug it out and held the plastic up to the light. Nope. None of the parts inside were anything close to a rotary hook assembly. Then I saw a little white cardboard box sealed with packing tape. Bingo!
So I had one and in a few minutes I'd replaced the broken one and was back in business.
That made my day. It even made up for the somewhat crummy finished product I rolled out two days later.
Last week's clouds and thunderstorms made us think that with the coming of summer the good sailing was over but recent days have shown us that even in June the Banderas Bay thermals can still occur given a clear sky and a bright sun. In those conditions the bay continues to be great for sailing.
Sunday was one of those days, and when the breeze started to fill at noon we decided we'd go out. It was a snap decision. No planning, no discussion, just go.
I guess we just can't get enough sailing because just the day before we had competed in the "Downwind Umbrella" race, part of the marina's Summer Sailstice festival, not in Wings but in Mike's old yellow snark, which we borrowed and sailed to a clear victory. We had a new umbrella (from Walmart), color coded shirts, and hell, we even practiced the day before, so maybe we should have won, but it was Judy's faultless steering and the boat itself which gave us the victory; the snark has a centerboard and a rudder, and when the race turned into a reach the kayaks and dingys just slid off to leeward. Judy held us high and we glided to the finish line first.
video footage-rick flucke
Downwind Umbrella Race Video
It was all part of the grand Summer 'Sailstice' festivity put on the marina and organized by Katrina and by Mike Danielson of PV Sailing. Oh, it was fun! Paddle board racing, giant paddle board racing, live music, Thai food cart for those who feel Mexican isn't hot enough, prizes galore, musical chairs competition, and the headline event, the downwind umbrella race for any dingy, kayak, or other craft powered by an umbrella or other homemade wind capturing device. Wally, from the yacht Stella Blue, sewed a square sail out of women's underwear and rigged it on his kayak, which looked cumbersome to me with all of its top/bottom hamper and rigging and sure enough, he and Antoinette, his crew, broached spectacularly right after the start. They got the wipe-out prize.
But we got a prize for first place, Judy got second place prize for her speed and agility in musical chairs, and we ate Thai food and drank beer and had a good time. Thank you Marina Riviera Nayarit and Mike and Katrina.
Sunday was spectacular. Clear and hot, totally blue sky, beautiful blue ocean with white caps showing, and a great breeze in the high teens. The conditions were stunning. There is nowhere as beautiful for sailing as Banderas Bay on a nice day. We set sail and sheeted in on starboard and sailed upwind along the north shore. We held a big lift all the way up to Punta de Mita. After a pass through the anchorage there we turned downwind and set the spinnaker, executed a perfect jibe, and reached for home. The wind built to the low twenties and with the pole on the headstay and a long swell we were charging. The high speed for the day was 9.25 knots and I made Judy nervous by steering with one hand while taking photos with the other. But it was alright and when we got back to La Cruz we'd covered 27 miles. A good day's sailing!
Well, they say life is a reach and then you have to do a take-down. "No problem," I said. We turned downwind and put the sail in the lee of the main and dropped it on the foredeck. It went perfectly until I took the halyard off and then a wind gust blew the whole sail over the side into the water. We had to turn upwind to slow the boat and pull it back on board, and of course besides being soaking wet there is a pretty good hole in it. Dang! Well, I have a few sewing projects on the list already, I'll add that one.
Oh, then the engine overheated. Whew, another item on the project list.
So that's the report from La Cruz, despite everything, it was great.
It’s getting hotter here in La Cruz but we’re doing fine; we’ve lived in hotter places. Like everyone who has chosen to stay here during the summer we spend a lot of time sheltering from the heat.
Mornings and evenings are cooler however, and cloudy days are also good, and we do what we need to do outside, even on the hot days. Normally, however, we hang out where there is an air-conditioner, in Wings’ cabin, for instance.
We also know that sailing will be rare for us this summer because it is really a lot of work in this heat, but we’ll go out occasionally despite the heat if it is a perfect day and we know we’ll like it when we do.
Some days I grab the Nikon around sunset and venture out. That’s when the light gets good for photography. I am often surprised at how many people are out at that time. During the day it is a ghost town around here but in the evenings you find Mexican chicas jogging along the Malacon with their pony tails flying and Mexican families playing in the surf over at the beach. There are always the boys playing soccer. The locals know how to cope with the heat. To that extent, I guess we do too.
Meanwhile we have hurricanes to think about. This is hurricane season and they have already started brewing. Blanco went by already, and Andreas before that, and both missed us. The local experts say that the hurricanes always miss us in Banderas Bay, but Carlos, the next one, seems to be curving right towards us. People are preparing. We are watching closely. So this season will be interesting I guess.
Click here for more photos, including the projected track for Carlos!
The cruisers sail away one by one, off towards the South Pacific or north into the Sea of Cortez. By May the anchorage at La Cruz has largely emptied out and the marina has a surplus of available slips.
It’s quiet in the town as well, more so since the week-long festival that wasn’t really a festival ended last Sunday. The festival activity, what there was, was mostly at nighttime. During the day you could walk the streets among the idle carnival rides and closed street stalls and the dogs sleeping in the shade barely looked up when you stepped over them.
The Kite Surfing contest in Bucerias was one; Eighty kiters, mostly from elsewhere in Mexico, were coming for closed course racing and free style competition. I thought I would photograph the event and I arranged a ride on the committee boat but somehow we got our wires crossed and he never came to pick me up. So Judy and I thought we’d shoot it from the beach but the sailors went the other way and we didn’t see much from the beach either. And anyhow, the traffic disruptions due to the police actions taking place over the holiday reduced the turnout.
When we came back through La Cruz on the way home there was a crowd just breaking up. Apparently some big show had happened in the square and we just missed it. Our neighbors told us there were horse shows, beauty contests, and beautiful folk dancing, happening right when we were over at the beach waiting for the kite surfers who mostly didn’t show.
So the expected photo opps were pretty much a bust for us this time, but next year…then we’ll know exactly what to do.
I am a sailor, born of a nautical tradition passed to me by my father and my Grandfather Alfred. I’ve spent most of life on my passion which is the sea and the vessels which go upon them. I have had many such vessels and now I live on and sail on the sloop WINGS.
which I acquired in 1986 with my wife Judy
who shared my passion. For ten years we lived on Wings in Seattle and sailed, including racing. Then we left the Pacific Northwest and voyaged across the world, across the seven seas, to faraway places, and made them our own.
For thirty-eight years I have lived and loved this life. I still live on Wings, in Mexico, and sail and race often. Judy passed away in June, 2023 and I miss her but you can still join us and sail the seas as we did for all those glorious years. Fred Roswold, SV Wings, Mexico
Taco Sunday
Mural in La Cruz
Wings in Racing Trim
Judy in the Dr's Office
Judy and Kelly on the roof-top bar
Water Tanks
Fred Finds a Halloween Mask
Run! Judy, Run!
Meeting Friends at the Market
Mexican Fishermen Harvest Shark Fins
Dona Marie
Road Trip to Tepic
Fred Sailing
Sailing fast to Punta Mita
Sailing Strategy
Making Tamales
Sailing Into La Cruz
Rain in the Marina
Bloodhound, William Fife II, 1910
Mike and a beautiful fish print
Applying Paint
Community Activity on the Malecon
Three Girls on the Malecon
Malecon
Runner
Working the Beach in BBR
Fred & Judy
Rage
I cried
Cockpit Floor Repaired
Jim & Fred enjoy a nice day
Fred Scares Mike Danielson
In the boat yard
Another Season Starts
Dancing in the Rain
Big Motors
Top Dog
Wow!
Blue Dress
Working on a new dodger
Marina Scene at Sunrise
Volkswagens
Judy Trims the Jib
Flowers and Still Water
Judy
Hurrican Blanca
Business, La Cruz Style
Man with Foiling Kite Board.jpg)
