July 1, 2026-Spring Cruise and Adventures in the Sea of Cortez
BANDERAS BAY REGATTA
The wind was up and the line was crowded but we weren’t afraid. Yes, the big boats were out in force: five boats in the start ahead of us, five in our start, and nine in the start behind. All together nine out of 19 were bigger than us, and supposedly faster.
So what?
Third week in March was the Banderas Bay Regatta, out of the Vallarta Yacht Club, and we sent it. Why not? The crew, a great crew, was ready, the boat was ready and we were excited.
swanFun images
And the racing was good. Three races and the wind never stopped. We won the first two. Our biggest competition was Swan Fun and they were tough but we got them. But they got us, both Swan Fun and the wind on the third day when we tried to carry the kite on a tight 20kt reach. We were over powered and kept rounding up. (What? No pictures? Who’s taking photos when you’re trying to survive). Swan Fun made the perfect call: At the jibe they dropped the kite and finished with a small jib. By the time we got our kite down they were long gone. I wish I know who made that call, it was brilliant. Was it Joe?
But we won the regatta, and being first on the podium felt really good.
GOING CRUISING TO SEA OF CORTEZ
But immediately after the BBR Sandy and I got back to work getting ready to cruise to the Sear of Cortez.
It was hard work and we didn’t have much time. It’s been like that since November: we work like hell to get ready for a race, then we race as hard as we can, then work like hell to get ready to go cruising. Rinse and repeat. That was the racing season. We had 23 races and two multi-day offshore deliveries jammed into four months.
Sandy In the Dingy
Then we headed off for a three month cruise and that wasn’t any vacation. In fact the cruise was another 12 weeks or frenetic work: sailing every day, changing crew every few weeks, new problems every day that needed to be fixed and finally sailing back to La Cruz with an injured crew.
Crossing to Baja was mostly motoring but it wasn’t trouble free. We broke a fan belt and discovered a broken bolt on the alternator bracket, which we drilled out while sailing (fun). And the AIS was found not to be transmitting (it received, we could see the ships, they couldn’t see us) and a handful of other issues. But we got to La Paz. Yay!
The big issues were still to come.
The two problems which really hit us early in April hard were a complete failure of the dingy and complete failure of the refrigerator.
The dingy went first. A big woosh and air tubes split open. The dingy went suddenly flat. We tried to repair them but it didn’t work. It would hold air, briefly. We took a pump everywhere. The dingy could be used but not trusted. Crew were coming for further cruising but how could we continue cruising without a reliable dingy?
But then another problem cropped up: the refrigerator stopped working. Completely.
THE SAGA OF THE $5000 REFRIGERATOR REPAIR
On a boat, most boats anyway, the refrigerator is taken for granted. It keeps beverages cold, and veggies fresh, but most of all, it keeps meat frozen. Some salty sailors living it rough go without refrigeration but the guests I had coming were not expecting to live that rough. I never told anyone when they signed up that we wouldn’t have a refrigerator. Without refrigeration it made the possibility of enjoying a cruise for three more months pretty much unthinkable. At least that’s the way I looked at it. So I went shopping, online.
Compressor units for my fridge were hard to find. But after a lot or Internet research, I finally found one, only one. Not in Mexico. It was in California. West Marine had one. But it would take two to three weeks to ship it to Mexico. No Bueno. I had guests arriving and anyhow, I couldn’t stay in the marina for that long. But Mike and Judy from Honu lived nearby the West Marine store and could go and pick it up. Then they were flying to La Cruz in four days; that might work. I called them. Done! It was small and they could bring it in their luggage.
But wait, Wings was in Puerto Escondido, 500 miles from La Cruz.
No problem, Sandy and I would just fly to La Cruz and bring the refer back. So we booked tickets, round trip. It took five separate flights but we could do it. And while we were there we could attend the annual Yelapa trip for Mike Danielson’s memory.
John agreed to take us to Yelapa on Edwina.
This would be a holiday.
We thought.
Off to la Cruz we went by air. Checked into Hotel Edwina. Sailed to Yelapa and back, had a good time. Got ready to take the refer back to Wings, which was still in Baja.
But wait! We missed our flights and our connections!
At the ticket counter the lady said, “No Sir, you missed your flight. No more flights until tomorrow.”
How does that happen? I got the date wrong. Oh Shit!
So that was three flights, for two people, that we trashed. And a couple of unplanned hotel stays. Money!
Well we bought new tickets and boarded the plane the next day. We got to Tijuana, where we were supposed to make a connecting flight to Loretto. (By the way, I want to point out that Sandy had an International flight to catch from Loretto to Charlott South Carolina the next day and Dulce Marie, my next crew, was flying in. Things were getting tight.)
“I’m sorry sir, you cannot take that compressor on our aircraft, No way.”
We couldn’t fly. Another two tickets trashed. More Money!
Well Damn! What do we do now? We’re in Tiajuana Mexico with a refrigerator compressor and need to be in Loretto the next day and can’t fly.
Sandy said, “We should rent a car.”
So, we got a car for a one way car rental to Lorretto, extra fee, $1500 USD. Even more Money!!
The drive from Tiajuana Mexico to Loretto in Baja is 14 hours. It was hell. We left Tiajuana at 3:30 PM and drove all night. It was really hell. Two lane road not well marked. Big danger of northbound trucks roaring out of the darkness with lights blazing. God, I don’t know how we made, it. We should have died but we didn’t.
Sandy
Sandy made her flight to South Carolina, I met Dulce Marie who came into Loretto at the same time, and I got the refer compressor to Wings. The new compressor worked! It all worked, but it cost me, all up, $5000. Dang!
Another crew change in La Paz. Dulce helped my find a new dingy then she flew out and Kelsey came in. The month with Kelsey was good. Lots of sailing and few boat problems. Then she left and Rene joined.
Oh yeah, Rene and I continued to find a few little boat problems, but not until the middle of June did things go really wrong again. On Monday the 15th of June, while we were anchored in La Paz charging batteries with the engine the alternator shorted out and caught fire. We caught it right away and shut down the electrical system, but the damage was done. The alternator was ruined and quite lot of wiring nearby was burned or melted. It could have been worse. We replaced the alternator with a spare and put in new wires and were good to go. Wow, was that close!
From Baja Rene and I crossed to Topolobampo on the mainland side and sailed up the long shipping channel into that neat little town. I’d been there before and pointed out all the familiar landmarks and anchorages and we navigated that tricky last little channel to the marina without any issues. Yay!
Topolobampo was fun. We walked everywhere. We even took an uber to Los Mochis that week for shopping, bought some fan belts for the engine and had a great lunch, very Mexican. But sailing out after four days later was challenging. The onshore breeze filled and got stronger as we tacked out of the channel and we had slow progress going from buoy to buoy as the wind, waves and current against us made it a slog. We reefed the main. We watched the depths whenever we approached the side of the channel. We had to stay high, and the windvane couldn’t do it. I took off the windvane and steered.
Finally we reached the outer marker on port tack and felt we had enough sea room to tack onto starboard and head south. But the Sea of Cortez wasn’t done with us.
I called out, “Ready to tack?”
“Ready” answered Rene on the jib sheets.
“Tacking”, and I put the helm down.
Wings swung its head through the wind and then stopped for a second. We had flown off a wave then hit the next one head on and it jolted us. Rene was just turning to tail the new jib sheet and she was thrown forward towards the open hatch and landed on her back against the corner of the hatch opening. I heard a shriek and looked to see her lying next to the winch. The jib was flapping.
I said, not knowing she was hurt, “Pull in the jib”.
But Rene couldn’t move. She couldn’t even breathe.
“I think my rib is broken”, she said when got her breath back.
Oh fuck!
Now what? Turn and go back to Topolobampo? It was 15 miles in rough conditions and not easy to do singlehanded. And what then? There didn’t seem be any medical facilities in Topolobampo. We’d have to take a long taxi or uber ride to Los Mochis. For what?
Keep on course to Mazatlan? That was 205 miles to the south, but it was easy sailing, open water and no hazards. Rene thought we should go to Mazatlan. I sent her below to rest and began single handing south.
Rene felt she would survive and that she could do a little to help sail the boa, at least stand watch when I had to sleep. We sailed onward.
This episode brought back to reality something I’ve known forever but never really faced before: When you go to sea in a small boat you are playing for keeps. Rene broke a rib. She could have been killed. Or I could have been killed or thrown off the boat. There is no doctor out there, no rescue services, not even a Coast Guard to call.
But none of those things happened. They haven’t happened to me in 50 years of sailing. We get complacent. But the danger is out there, just waiting.
THE FINAL LEG BACK TO LA CRUZ
Sailing was easy from then on. We spent long days making great time broad reaching towards Mazatlán and nights motoring. It was good for Rene who needed to rest and let her rib stop hurting a bit.
By the time we anchored in Mazatlán’s old harbor we could breath a little. We were close to home.
We lazed around in the anchorage at Isla Santa Maria near Topolobampo for three days, waiting for southerly winds before resuming our trek northward, relaxing and enjoying the quiet, sheltered, waters and happy to sit on the boat and do nothing. One day we motored into town to buy fuel and top up our Internet, but we returned to the same anchorage.
Finally, on the fourth day we launched the dingy and drove along the shore, surveying the area with a lead line. We also went to the beach to explore the dune, running around on the hot sand until it burned our feet and we had to splash into the water to cool off. We watched our footprints being erased by the blowing wind. It was fun.
But on Tuesday the wind came in from the South, unexpectedly a day early. The anchorage at Isla Santa Maria is protected from all westerly winds, including NW and SW, but it is open to the South where the wind was coming from and the waves grew big. We didn’t think the south wind would last all day, and I am sure we could have stayed and toughed it out, but we don’t like rough anchorages even for a short while. After breakfast we raised the anchor and moved four miles to Punta Copas, another sand dune. To my eye this anchorage is even more beautiful the Isla Santa Maria; it is a gently curving north-south sand bar with still, deep water right up to the shoreline. We’d seen this place as we passed at least four times and I always wanted to try it. It would poor in a northerly but perfect in winds from the southern quadrant. A fishing boat was there already and we anchored near them.
This was just an overnight stop as, we planned to leave on Wednesday, and we didn’t even go ashore, but we enjoyed sitting on deck that afternoon watching the peaceful surroundings. A pair of swallows immediately found us and started building a nest in our boom. I chased them off but they were persistent. By Wednesday morning there was a pile of stick and twigs on the aft deck where they dropped them if I was too close. This has happened in other harbors in Mexico during May. The swallows always find our boom with its good openings and cozy inside. Too bad for them we don’t stick around.
Wednesday the South wind was back and we departed at noon for Santa Rosalia, 197 miles away.
We stand at the navigation station on board Wings and review the charts and the weather forecasts. We plan an 11:00 AM departure from Altata Estuary.
First we’ll motor the 5 miles to the Altata ocean bouy, then make our departure NW up the coast to Isla Santa Maria, 97 miles away. We want to be at the ocean bouy by 12:00 Noon.
We plan a 24-hour passage and expect good upwind sailing conditions.
The flooding tide, with current is over two knots, delays us more than we expected. We’re at the sea bouy at 12:40, forty minutes late, but it’s not a problem; we have extra time built into the other end. There is no wind despite a forecast of 7-8 knots. It is calm. We turn to our course and continue to motor up the rhumb line.
By midafternoon a light wind arrives and with it a strange choppy sea. We look at the sea conditions and the sky and we both think stronger wind is coming. We set the number 4 jib and start sailing.
We clear the decks and prepare for rougher weather. The awning is stowed below. A reef line is led to the winch. Everything is made ship-shape on deck and below. Within an hour we have 15 knots of breeze and bigger waves but the boat is making great time upwind, going 6.8 knots. By nightfall the wind is blowing 17-18 knots and the waves are yet bigger. The boat is sailing fast but we’re taking a pounding in the waves. The noise of the hull hitting the water as we fly off of one big wave after another is loud. It happens about once every 30 seconds. We don’t like it. Heavy water lands on the deck and washes over the dodger. It floods the cockpit and a hatch which was not dogged down lets water into the aft cabin. Our bed is wet. We dog the hatch and straighten things out. It’s been a while since we sailed in these conditions. We’re rusty.
Now we settle in for a long night standing three hour watches and wondering whether the wind will continue to increase. It does not. 18.6 knots is the peak. Later the wind drops to 12kts and the seas flatten. There is a full moon. We’re still going fast and we like the conditions better than earlier. At 3:00 AM however the wind returns with a surprising suddenness; Bang! 17 knots, and a shift to the right which favors starboard tack. We tack over from port to starboard and settle in again. Now we are back into the pounding. If anything it is worse than before, but at least the boat is not taking as much water over the bow. Perhaps the waves are just a little different. The off watch sleeps uneasily in the pounding.
On my watch I notice the dingy fuel tank on deck by the mast is moving around. I harness up and go forward to secure it. While forward I look at the mast. It’s pumping a bit much for my liking. I return to the cockpit and increase the pressure on the babystay to hold the mast better. I wish I’d noticed it earlier; it must have been doing this for hours.
Later I hear a sharp “Ping” and then something metallic hits the deck. I look aloft with a flashlight, then forward. I see the babystay connection has broken. The baby stay is swinging wildly. I go below and find a heavier bolt as a replacement for the pin which failed, return to the foredeck, reconnect the baby stay and go back to the cockpit.
Through the night we’re going 6.5 to 7 knots and pointing 36 degrees to the wind, which is quite good and we don’t know many other cruising boats that could do this. We don’t particularly like it but we’re happy the boat can perform like this in these conditions.
Daylight finds us 20 miles out from Isla Santa Maria, near Topolobampo, and we make a final tack. We have overstood and can to crack off a bit to the entrance. The boat speed is now over eight. It looks like we’ll be pretty close our projected ETA of 12:00 Noon at the sea buoy.
12:15 we sweep past the sea buoy going in excess of eight knots. The wind is 17 and above, same as the last time we sailed into this port. Does it always blow here?
As we come abeam of Isla Santa Maria we round up into the wind and Judy pulls down the jib and ties it off. She is stressed because she is on the foredeck instead of being back in the cockpit where she can watch the chart plotter and depth instruments. Plus, it’s hard work. I am thinking about that and I don’t know any other cruiser woman who can do what Judy does at age 68. Or any age.
The wind is 19 – 20 knots now. We are sailing under mainsail alone into an unknown anchorage. The chart looks wrong. Now we’re both a little stressed, but we are sailing slowly with the main and the water is 36 ft deep, so we’re OK.
We find a spot behind the big sand dune and drop the main. Judy pulls it down and secures it while we anchor under power. She goes forward and lowers the anchor. For 30 feet of water she lets out 150ft of chain. I back down hard, it holds. She signals that it’s good, we can kill the engine. I turn off the engine.
We are anchored at Isla Santa Maria, outside of Topolobampo. It was a hard sail, but a good one.
Part One
We were going to leave at 10:30 but since there is no wind. I decide to wait. I climb up on the boom with the binoculars and look around. What breeze I can see is spotty.
From my vantage point I notice the water around the boat. It is crystal clear, the clearest it has been since we anchored here. It looks inviting. I go for a swim.
Once in the water I decide to clean the propeller. If we have to motor to Topolobampo it would be nice to have a clean prop. I go back aboard the boat and get my mask and fins and a scraper and jump in again. The water is nice. I enjoy my work.
By 12:30 the wind is starting to fill so we decide it is time and we weigh anchor. We put up the main as soon as the anchor is stowed. We set the jib right afterwards. By the time we are clear of the harbor we have some wind and we are sailing. We sheet in and go close hauled. The boat heels and picks up speed. It feels good. I turn for one last look at the harbor and I can still see two boats anchored there.
I wonder if they watched our departure.
It takes three hours to beat around the top of Isla Carmen but the sailing is nice; flat water and enough wind. We watch the scenery pass slowly by and make our offing from Punta Lobos at 3:30 in the afternoon.
As we expected from the forecasts we find the wind is shifting steadily to the right. We settle in on starboard tack and sail the lift. The breeze is less than eight knots, we’re only doing four’s and fives. It’s slow, but it’s smooth, steady, and quiet and we are enjoying it. We relax. We watch the sunset and see the islands and Baja California slowly disappear behind us.
I bring up the ETA program and it says that at 4.5 knots we will be in Topolobampo at 2:30 PM the following day, Thursday. I think the wind will pick up and our speed will increase, but I do not run the numbers; it doesn’t matter. Anytime on Thursday will be fine.
The watermaker stops. This is the third time in a week. I go below to take another look at it. Judy does not want me to get into it right now; she sees a dark cloud and worries about the weather. She wants me on deck. But I think I can take a few minutes. This time I check the salt water supply pipes. They are good but the pump still isn’t able to pull salt water in. I’ve already replaced the filter. What can it be? I take off the fitting to the selector valve and look through it: Plugged! I show Judy. She nods her head. In a few seconds I have the blockage cleared and re-connect the pipes.
Now the water maker works. Judy says the output is the best it’s been is a long time.
The weather remains mild, the dark cloud went away.
It’s my night watch now. I decide I am hungry. I go below and rummage around in the refrigerator. I find a hamburger patty with melted cheese from the previous day. I get two pieces of bread, smother them with mayonnaise and make a sandwich. It seems dry. I am thirsty. I pour a glass of chilled white wine and go on deck with my meal. The wind has started to pick up. The boat speed has increased; we are doing six knots.
I am happy: Meat and cheese, bread and wine, and six knots of boat speed.
Perfect.
Part Two
The crossing has been uneventful. The wind has been mild. But as we close with the mainland the wind increases and it continues to go right. Our speed begins to pick up. Now we are doing seven knots.
We are one hour ahead of our ETA. That is good.
I observe that when we turn into the long shipping channel we will be going onto a close reach. The wind and waves will be ahead of the beam. The wind is already 18 knots. The shipping channel is nearly twelve miles. It will be fast and wet.
We prepare the boat ahead of time for this leg. We flatten the sails and clear the decks. We put on back stay and baby stay. We check below for loose gear.
As we round the sea bouy and head into the channel I have already disconnected the wind vane and taken over steering.
I bring us up onto the course and we sheet on the sails. The boat surges. The speed reaches eight knots, then higher. On some of the waves we surf. I love the feeling as I pull on the tiller and the boat accelerates. I am having fun.
In an hour and a half we are approaching the harbor. We need to think about getting the sails down. Judy will have to do the take-down of the jib. She puts on her knee pads and goes forward and prepares for the dowse. I see that there is a dogleg of the channel coming up which will give us an opportunity to ease the pressure on the sails and steering. I tell Judy, “I can put it on autopilot and go forward to take the jib down, do you want me to do that?”
She answers, “Yes”.
I connect the autopilot. “Auto.”
She touches the button and replies, “Auto.” The autopilot takes over.
I run forward and she releases the halyard. The sail comes down and I pull it to keep it onboard we have it bagged before the channel turns back into the wind.
Now the boat is slower; things are easier. Getting the main down is next. We look for some shelter to drop it.
There is a ship loading grain at the wharf and we cut behind it into the lee of its high sides. There is shelter there but grain blows on us like snowflakes. We ignore them. We quickly drop the main and fold it.
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
Crew Celebrates
Sandy In the Dingy
Refrigerator Compressor
The Forbidden Package
Sandy
The New Dingy
Bye Dulce
Happy Hour for Kelsey
Parked in Topolobampo
Fred is happy
Judy and the Sand Dune
Boy! That Sand is HOT!
Motoring
Sailing North
Night Running
Sailing to Windward
Isla Santa Maria
Judy on the Foredeck
Pangas In Topolobampo, and Bahia de Ohuira.jpg)
