Category: Sail Tales

San Jose del Cabo Delivers

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I’ve been to San Jose a few times: twice on my own and once for my nephew’s wedding. It’s a super cute little town, and it has unsurprisingly developed quite a bit in the last decade. While it still has an artsy vibe, it’s considerably more upscale now. We knew almost immediately that one week just wasn’t gonna cut it. 

Day two we broke out the folding bikes to tour the town and scope out the local pickleball spot (shout out to Club Huerta!). Rode my bike there — a few intermittently hairy miles away — every other day-ish … and when my tires weren’t flattened by the sketchy road conditions. True confession: I am totally addicted to pickleball. I’ll admit that I’m an enabler, too. There, I’ve said it. Not apologizing, just sayin’. It’s just so. much. fun. I play for hours at a time and love every minute, win or lose. I of course prefer to win, but any good game works. And it’s always entertaining to see that while the names and hometowns change, the characters are pretty much the same: you’ve got your bangers, droppers and spinners; those who take the game entirely too seriously and those who pretend they don’t; the (usually male chauvinist) ball hoggers; the drivers who refuse to play close to the kitchen; the flagrant cheaters and the ones who almost always call a close ball out; the swearers and apologizers; young and old; all sizes, shapes, colors, and backgrounds. It’s truly a great equalizing sport, and the fact that you can go solo and get your fun, cardio, and socialization on for as long and hard as you want … chef’s kiss. Since T will play with me only under duress, and only enjoys playing with particular people, he’s always thrilled when he doesn’t have to sacrifice his time, jeopardize his body and ego (he has experienced some totally-not-funny-but-so-ridiculous-you-can’t-help-but-be-a-terrible-wife-and-chuckle court misfortunes), and inflame his plantar fasciitis just to indulge me. 

OK, moving on … Mexican food has not historically been my jam. But T got me into fish tacos a while ago and I’ve been hooked ever since. I’m happy to report that San Jose del Cabo did not disappoint in the taco department. The best we had were at La Lupita Taco y Mezcal downtown: not cheap, but both the tacos and mezcal were worth every peso and did the joint’s name justice. We did a repeater visit at their other location on Valentine’s Day and the sequel was just as good as the original. We also went on the perennial Thursday Art Walk (enriching and entertaining; a lot of incredible galleries here), biked to the local beach and christened our chairs and umbrella (the latter will require some future finessing), watched the Eagles destroy the Chiefs in the Super Bowl (sooooo satisfying), saw a movie (Absolution/Implacable. didn’t realize it was all in Spanish — with no subtitles — so didn’t get everything but was 100% clear that it was totally depressing and the absolute opposite mood we were going for at the time of viewing), did some puzzling, gave my nails and toes some much needed attention, visited the beautiful Gypsy Soul House (a decadent pampering indulgence that kicked off with the “nordic spa experience”: champagne, nuts and cranberries, followed by body exfoliation, outdoor shower, barrel sauna, cold plunge, sauna, shower, more champagne … all before a delicious 90-minute deep tissue massage. YUM). Groceries are about the same price as in the U.S. (how do the Mexicans afford it?), but spa treatments are bizarrely inexpensive. T got a haircut (long overdue), and also took a side trip to LA to visit friends and replace our busted water heater and poop tank. So our bucket squatting and cold water dishwashing days are numbered … hallelujah! 

One of the coolest things about cruising is the ability to alter your itinerary whenever and however you like. We ended up spending three weeks in San Jose vs. the originally planned one, and enjoyed our stay immensely. Next stop: Los Frailes, en route to La Cruz de Huanacaxtle — La Cruz for short — on the Riveria Nayarit.

Do You Know the Way to San Jose?

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We left Asunción for another three-day sail, this time to San Jose del Cabo … if they’d have us. All the marinas we checked with were full, so TBD. At minimum, we needed to find a place to take a proper shower, as the hygiene situation was getting pretty dire. Suffice it to say it was a good thing we didn’t have guests on board and the funk was confined to the family.

Chef T had prepped cranberry muffins, potato leek soup, and clam and garlic pizza for the journey. And when the weather window looked good, a huge pod of seemingly hundreds of dolphins assembled to bid us farewell. The seas were infinitely kinder to us on this passage, and our sailing to motoring ratio is improving. (It’s sooooo nice when the engine is off and everything is quiet.) T also hooked the water maker up. The good news: the install worked. The bad: water’s leaking from multiple hoses. We were running low on water, totally out of Topo Chico, and my eight-glass-a-day intake was taking a hit. So, totally inconvenient timing for that little convenience, but that’s a fix for another day. In the meantime, we were hardy and hydrated enough to eke out a few days of minimal H2O intake.

Night one was relatively (and blessedly) uneventful, with the exception of some drama I slept through: Apparently the pin sheared and fell out of the traveler, so the boom was totally free (no bueno). That said, the boom break mitigated what could have been a total disaster (muy beuno), and Captain T was able to get it under control and save the day (night) yet again. 

On day two, we debuted a new cockpit platform T constructed that gives us more lounging space. Divine. We also set out our fishing line for the first time, eagerly awaiting and discussing the preparation of the catch that never came. Day three was no better. Turns out we lost the lure on the virgin run, but no such excuse for the chaser. I’m sure that big catch is right around the corner, and will be all the more delicious for the wait. Finished Jo Nesbo’s The Leopard and Close to Home by Michael Magee. The former was a little disappointing (gratuitously convoluted), and the latter a good debut read from an unknown (to me, at least) young Irish author. Also finally read one of our daughter’s favorites: Instructions for Dancing, a sweet little love story by Nicola Yoon.

When we finally sailed into San Jose del Cabo, we were shocked by the weather change — like 20 degrees — and quickly changed from long johns to tank tops. This was after we recovered from wanting to kill each other upon arrival (combination of three days of less-than-ideal sleep, no slip reservation, hopeful and finally answered marina calls to check availability, confirmation that best marina option had never received our original documentation, scramble to resend said documentation with uncooperative scanner, wait for call back and ultimate thumbs up on slip availability, plus the ever-present anxiety around docking for fuel, blasé attendants necessitating three boat position changes, then final docking in a new marina slip, trying all along to rush but also not rush …) It was … well … a lot. After all that, the office offered us the option to get picked up for check in, but when we gave the thumbs up they informed us that our ride had run out of batteries. Huh? So we walked for what seemed like an eternity (actually 4,000 steps, but still … really? Just to check in and take a shower??) Turns out there’s a shower right next to our boat, so thank the gawds for that positive future note. We stopped for some extra crunchy (solid euphemism for shingle) fish and chips and ice cold Topo Chico when our business was done, and then made the extremely wise decision (cue the self back pat) to get a golf cart (OK, now the battery issue made sense) ride back. Settled in for some solid makeup sleep almost immediately. And with that, day one was successfully in the bag. Six more to look forward to.

Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad …

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We set sail from Ensenada to Asunción, a three-day cruise and our longest to date. Chef T made a delicious array of waist-busting carbs for the passage: saucepan cookies, banana bread, spaghetti bolognese, and fresh baguettes. Hoping at some point we’ll be slim again, ‘cuz we’re definitely currently on the fat track. 

No wifi or cell signal, so no feeding my obsession with New York Times Spelling Bee (serious, followed by, Wordle, Connections, and Strands. Not gonna lie, I go through a wee bit o’ withdrawal when I can’t get my games on …) Instead, alternating between Jo Nesbo (with his gratuitously complicated and macabre plots, The Leopard is par for the course), the ever-bizarre and thought-provoking Haruki Murakami (this time short stories, Men without Women), and a dash of Wordbubbles. It’s both disconcerting and liberating and to be forced out of connection when you’re in the middle of the ocean.

We were pumped that we avoided a nasty storm at the outset. The sea was glassy, the horizon stunning, skies clear, stars bountiful and bright. A day in and we finally turned the motor off. Immediate zen. We tried the Monitor windvane for the first time, too (an autopilot that uses wind vs. power). Averaging six knots, all three sails out, two reefs in the main … oh yeah, baby. 

Of course when everything’s going perfectly, the pendulum is bound to swing … and swing it did. Mightily. Unbeknownst to us, we were experiencing both the literal and proverbial calm before the storm. Whereas day 1 was heaven, day 2 was pure hell: nausea-inducing waves for a straight 24 hours. Went to bed feeling sick and woke up sick (just one slice of banana bread all day, so unsatisfying dry heaves on both occasions. TMI I know, but UGH). We finally broke outta that sh*t middle of day 3, The sun came out and the waves mellowed like they hadn’t just traumatized us. Regardless, we were thankful. Chef T whipped up some tasty pork fried rice and all was right again with the world. 

Arrived in Asunción and anchored without further incident. We ended up staying a week there. It was too windy to venture out sooner, and since we were still PTSD’d out after leg two of our previous passage, we didn’t want a preventable repeater. It meant that we couldn’t easily go to shore either, though, so we were landblocked most of the time. T went out with a local guy, Larry, one day to get more fuel, and pleasantly surprised me with a delicious mesquite-grilled chicken on the way back. (The man knows the way to his woman’s heart is through el pollo.) A couple days later the weather was relatively calm and we ventured into town to see what was what. Not a lot, honestly, but the people were super nice. We stocked up on our increasingly beloved Topo Chico mineral water, limes, relatively good looking meat, and some ginormous chicken drumsticks. I don’t know what they’re feeding their chickens in Asunción, but i’m not mad at them. T baked them with some vegetable paella, and feast we did — heartily and thankfully. I also made some banging pesto pasta with shrimp (yes, i do lift the occasional culinary finger). 

We also made two unfortunate and simultaneous discoveries in Asunción: leaks in the poop tank and in the hot water heater. The poop sitch is manageable. We just have to pump the goods regularly, which is no problemo. We’d been advised to replace the aluminum tank with a plastic one, and unwisely ignored said advice. Alas. So now we’ll have to try to get one mailed to Mexico and hope it reaches us some time this century. The hot water heater, on the other hand, will be annoying for more than a minute. Cuz … like … dishes? showers?? I was lamenting about both to a sailor friend, who said she didn’t use hot water unless she’d been sailing and the engine heated it up. I asked, “So how do you shower and wash dishes?” Her reply: “We take a swim in the ocean and rinse off in the cockpit, and sometimes the hose even gets warm from the sun. And we wash our dishes with salt water and rinse with fresh.” I was shooketh. And immediately knew she was more hardcore than I’ll ever be. She didn’t agree with me, but I need me some hot water. Stat. Not to mention a fresh mani: My nails are tragic.

Blissful Baja via Scrumptious San Diego

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We sailed 14 hours from Avalon to San Diego, and another 12 from San Diego to Ensenada. Both trips were delightfully uneventful, although the stretch to Mexico was pretty rolly.

San Diego is the epitome of California living. The weather is perfect, the people friendly, the entertainment accessible, and we were able to handle our business efficiently. We were told that we needed to stop here for exit paperwork (turns out that wasn’t necessarily the case, but the marina insisted on it in case we had an existing and therefore dreaded TIP — temporary import permit — on our dinghy). We had originally planned to sail straight to Mexico, but made the San Diego stop per our Ensenada marina’s request/mandate. We know people who weren’t able to enter the country because of an uncanceled TIP, so we were OK with taking the precaution.

So Cal makes you realize just how small San Francisco is.. We rented a car since San Diego is huge, which turned out to be a great decision. We did all of our exit paperwork, saw Nosferatu on the big screen, soaked in the decadent marina hot tub, provisioned (including the fiercely addictive Trader Joe’s cheese puffs and cheese crunchies, along with the mandatory chicken I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to find enough of in Mexico). I got a great mani/pedi and played some excellent pickleball at Waterfront Park, both a short distance from our marina. We finally got my critical puzzle deliveries (missed the drop off in Avalon), and put an exclamation point on our last day with a large order of Five Guys french fries (plus a double cheeseburger for T). Suffice it to say that our fitness journey is currently not a linear one.

We arrived in Mexico without incident and ultimately found our marina and slip. A little bit of confusion post docking when they hadn’t reserved us for 50-amp electrical, but we were exhausted and really didn’t; want to move. Luckily they finally let us borrow a 30-amp and all was well. We successfully handled all our business with the port captain the following day, and met up with Rodd and Shelly (S/V Tasi) for some fish (shark!) tacos and gab. T beat the pants off me at pool (it’s OK, he has to be able to win some game against me.

Got an excellent body scrub and 80-minute massage at the hotel spa. I usually request men since women tend to give wimpier massages, and when this tiny little Mexicana showed up my heart sank. But sistahood put a hurt-so-good deep tissue massage on me that left me muy, muy satisfied. Then my buzz was killed by the Texans losing to the cheater Chiefs in the playoffs. We hosted a sweet couple — Judy and Gene, who came to Ensenada four years ago and never left — for cocktails. One thing that’s great about living in a small space is how little time it takes to clean up before you’re expecting company. So even if I’m feeling like our place is not presentable for socializing, it doesn’t take long for it to be (excuse the obvious pun) shipshape.

Happy Holidays!

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We sailed from Ventura to Marina del Ray without incident, a little over 10 hours. We were here for only four days, but super nice marina again (yaaas!) and a great location overall. We went to an awesome happy hour at Salt, got the boat holiday ready, did some Christmas shopping, got my mani on. T met up with his childhood friend Philip from Massachusetts, who later joined us on the boat. They’d talked, but hadn’t seen one another for 30+ years. 

We decided to spend the holidays on Catalina Island, so sailed to Avalon. Kicked off a lovely Christmas with Chef T’s famous coffee cake — which never disappoints — and then ice cold champagne, the afore-mentioned Trader Joe’s cheese puffs, and bouillabaise for New Year’s Eve dinner. It was overcast and a bit chillier than expected, but nice when the sun was out, Since we were at anchor and trying to conserve water, showering wasn’t as accessible. Public showers ($3/5 minutes) were functional but nowhere near posh. Flip flops a must, and not a place you’d want to linger. Nevertheless, they did the trick and defunkified us.

We also played mini golf at one of the most beautifully landscapes courses I’ve ever seen. I won – as I love and tend to do — and pulled off 3 (!) holes in one, thank you very much, It was actually a close game, but the queen reigned victorious at the end. We also watched the 49ers play (and lose again) at Fix Biergarten, a cute little outdoor bar. Oh, and heads up: If you want to have a package delivered to the Avalon Post Office, don’t have a deadline.

Onward!

Ventura: Random … In the Most Delightful Way

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Kinda bizarre that I’ve lived in California most of my life and have rarely visited So Cal. The traffic is not for the faint of heart, but the weather makes you realize why California is such a popular destination.

Ventura is a sleepy, beautiful, and somewhat odd little town. Temperatures are mild and super pleasant. We rode our folding bikes and our Burley trolley (expensive but crazy handy) for grocery runs: just clip that bad boy on the back of your bike and you’re good to go. Got some excellent pickling in: four times a week at Harry Lyon Park. In retrospect it would have been much more cost effective to rent a car vs Ubering to the courts, which were not within biking distance, but hindsight and all … Met a super nice, welcoming, and age-diverse group of players. will really miss playing with them.

We stayed in Ventura for a minute. Docked there for about a week before and during Greece (September and October), then back in November through mid-December. Got comfortable with easy Amazon delivery, a variety of grocery stores, convenient bike riding, movie theaters, regular pickleball sessions, mani/pedis, laundry, showers, restaurants (big shout out to Baja Bay Surf ‘n Taco: they say they have the world’s best tacos, and I wasn’t mad at them …) Let me repeat: not a marina hater. At all

We’ve also found that the sailing community is relatively small and exceptionally friendly. We’ve socialized with more people since we moved on our boat than we had in all the years we lived in San Francisco. Our Ventura stay ended with the Parade of Lights — a lovely lighted boat show that culminated in fireworks rivaling any Fourth of July display — all of which we watched with unobstructed views from Sabine and Thomas’ slick catamaran Selador.

From Monterey to … ?

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Monterey is super cute and chill. Picturesque bike ride to some excellent pickleball (shout out to Via Paraiso Park!), great food, solid and much needed manicure … what’s not to love? We spent a few days there, then off to Morro Bay for our first overnight sail. I had been dreading this for obvious reasons, but it was infinitely less terrifying than I had envisioned, The auto pilot was working beautifully thanks to Captain T, and there were no other boats in sight. Bonus: the night wasn’t the pitch black I was expecting thanks to the moon and an abundance of stars. So in the morning, these salty sailors decided to keep going past Morro Bay and head straight to Santa Barbara.. When that wasn’t so bad either, we just kept going like the rock stars we are to our final destination: Ventura. We knew that Point Conception could be gnarly, and since we rounded it at night during a pretty good weather window, we went for it. Two back-to-back all day/night sails and we arrived safe and sound. After topping off our fuel, we took our lucky newbie asses straight to our slip. And with a little (OK, a lot of) guidance from T, I guided us in with no (physical, at least), damage done. Yaaaassss, queen.

Sidebar: I know we’ll primarily be at anchor (or “on the hook” since, you know, we use sailor terminology now), but I’m not ashamed to say that I do not hate a marina. No dinghy to wrestle with for shore excursions, no water or electricity restrictions, nice shower facilities, unlimited wi-fi … Exponentially more expensive, but sooooo worth it.

Setting Sail … For Real for Real

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Well, we did it.

After four (4!) years of prep and fret, we finally untied our Bay Area lines.

Boat prep? Check. Myriad friends and family rendezvous and final pickleball games with my favorite peeps? Check. Mail forwarding service and new boat cards? New cockpit cushions and purple crocodile interior mast cover? Frantic Amazon purchases, mani/pedi/brows/lashes/haircut? Check check and check. You get the drift. … and can perhaps sense the potentially misplaced priorities of this author and first mate. 

Whatevs. Don’t judge. The point is that we were both as ready as we were going to be, T had wisely both reserved our slip in Ventura for August 26 and booked our September trip to Greece out of LAX … which meant we had to get outta dodge. So we packed the farewell care package that my mom had assembled (complete with my favorite foods and a tear-inducing pile of cards), and we sailed out of Marina Village Yacht Harbor for the last time.

Everything was such a whirlwind: turning in our keys, picking up my mom and giving her our car, leaving her on the dock with her equally sad and brave visage hidden by suspiciously large sunglasses … And then we were off. This was the moment we had dreamed of for years, and it was actually happening. Totally surreal. Our first leg was seven hours — all motorsailing — to Half Moon Bay, My sister-in-law/partner in crime/pickleball partner Jude visited and we all indulged in fat sandwiches, freshly grilled sardines, and my famously stiff double vodka tonics. We rested for a day and them headed to Monterey, where the whales ruled the seas (and while cool and all, were a little too copious and a lot too close to our boat for comfort) while the sea lions ruled the docks with their loud braying, shameless lazing, and super intense funk.