Four Points East of South

Anna anchored in the inner lagoon off Barra de Navidad.

ANNA SLIPPED OUT OF THE NORTHERN SEA of Cortez under a full moon and slid directly down the exact center of the Sea on a direct nonstop, deep broad reach to Mazatlan - four hundred nautical miles, four nights, south by southeast. We saw no other vessels the entire time until our approach to Mazatlan, when a passenger ferry crossed our bow at dawn.

We decided to take the fast track to Manzanillo, nine hundred nautical miles SE of Guaymas, with a stop along the way in Mazatlan, a city we like to visit when the opportunity is at hand.

Mazatlan from our anchorage off Isla Venedos.

Anna left the northern Sea a bit early, that is, about a month before the official end of hurricane season, according to NOAA and local knowledge of Mar de Cortez.

Late season East Pacific tropical storms and hurricanes force us out of a sense of complacency and compel us to keep a close eye on weather data as we move purposefully southward, toward the lower latitudes, toward the Equator.

We stopped briefly at Mazatlan to pick up a couple of electrical parts for Anna that needed replacement and took the opportunity to stay at the inexpensive no shore-power dock across the channel from the marina at El Cid. A convenient and free water taxi shuttled us back and forth whenever we needed a ride. El Cid includes, in the cost of moorage, a couple of wonderful pools to soak in. One is hot, one is cool, and there are caves to swim through. Showers and hotel facilities are included in the cost of moorage (about $20 USD by the day, or $12 USD per day, if taken by the month.

The zig-zag breakwater at the entrance to El Cid.

Condos near Mazatlan's north end.

The beach access inside the breakwater at El Cid.

After a brief rest at Mazatlan Anna moved right along to San Blas, where we spent a quiet night anchored alongside a primitive estuary, catching up on sleep. Our five-hour on/off watch schedule, supplemented by a two-hour nap can be tiring on one- to four-night passages. It takes some time for a body to adjust. On longer passages - five days or more - the biological clock tends to adapt.

Wash day for both Anna and our laundry
 at the dock, across the channel from El Cid.

Before stopping at another of our favorite, gritty industrial ports along the way, Manzanillo, we slid into Bahia Tenacatita, twenty nautical miles to the north, to do an oil change and to reroute and replace some of our older sanitation hose - which we won't go into in any detail, as it is something that we are trying hard to forget. Anyway, it was a dirty but necessary job - but worth the effort.

We saw our friends, on Windarra, as they
 were making their way past the rocks at Tenacatita.

Tenacatita has clean, warm ocean water (even in mid-November). And so we took a swim where we were anchored, in a modest ocean swell and finished cleaning up with a cool, freshwater solar shower, on deck. Cool water is a luxury when the ambient temperature and humidity are high as it still is here, even in late fall and early winter. A dolphin came by to explore Anna's keel.

Shrimper, off Mazatlan.

We stayed anchored out one extra night in Tenacatita to relax before drifting down to Barra de Navidad, to top off the starboard diesel tank and to pick up a few provisions in nearby Melanque.

Melanque mercado.

The onion vendor at Melanque.

Pesca sculpture, Barra de Navidad.

Barra de Navidad is a contrast between first world and third world culture, which reside side by side. Splendid opulence, juxtaposed to a life of bare necessity.

The Grand Bay, Barra de Navidad.

Splendid opulence, Grand Bay.

We anchored in the inner lagoon, a large stretch of protected, shallow water a mile or two from the town of Barra. Water taxis ferry us to and from Anna. The panga drivers zoom along at high speed with their over-sized outboard engines. The surroundings are a blur at these speeds. Water taxis are available twenty-fours a day. The cost is twenty-five pesos round trip per person. It's entertainment simply to take the ride, especially at night when the waters are pitch black and the pangas are running full out through the shoals (the Italian tune up).

On our way in to the lagoon, with Anna, we asked a panquero with local knowledge to guide us through the unmarked entrance and shoals to the back part of the lagoon. The shoals are tricky to navigate as the waters are not charted. Even with a guide in, we saw depths under Anna's keel of less than two feet. When we leave the lagoon we'll re-trace (reverse) our route in at extreme high tide.

The Grand Bay at night is a blur on a high-speed panga (water taxi)
 ride from Anna's anchorage to the docks at the village.

We are currently situated twenty nautical miles NW by NNW of Manzanillo, where we will stop for a few days before once again moving toward the south and east and on our way to Huatulco (southernmost Pacific Mexico). Logical stopovers south of Manzanillo would include Zihuatenejo and Acalpulco, before arriving at Huatulco.

French bakery makes an emergency delivery
 of baguettes to Anna, in the lagoon.

Once there we'll look for a weather window to make the crossing of the Tehuantepec, a nasty stretch of water to negotiate under the wrong conditions. We could get hung up in the Huatulco area for a while, waiting for a break in the weather - basically, anything that isn't a raging full gale with steep, short-period seas (typical weather patterns in that area during the winter, locally known as T-peckers).

The alternative to coastal-cruising Central America (Guatemala, Nicaragua, El Salvador, Honduras, Costa Rica, enroute to Panama) would be a 1,500 nm offshore leg directly from Acalpuco to Panama. This would be our preference if weather and seas were favorable. But it's no milk run. It can be difficult with opposing winds and currents and calms and squalls. It's a mixed bag of ocean conditions, which is probably why ninety-nine percent of vessel traffic in this area take the coastal route and try to time the crossings of the Tehuantepec and Papagayo regions to coincide with low pressure on the Carribean side of the Isthmus.

With a dominant low pressure system in effect the more typical high-pressure, gale-force winds and seas abate somewhat making possible the crossing of the Tehuantepec without the all the fuss. So, we'll make that decision - whether to take the coastal or offshore route - as we get closer to Acapulco and Huatulco. It's been a strange weather-related year so far. It's been hotter and drier than usual in this part of the world. Also, an El Nino climatic event is still possible this winter, and it could alter wind and current direction and strength. As of now the NOAA discussion calls for a neutral to weak El Nino event this winter. There are mixed signals, however,  making an accurate prediction rather difficult.

Local panqueros collect oysters and
 chocolate clams in the lagoon at Barra de Navidad.

Simple casa in Melanque.

Splendid simplicity, a shack (fish camp)
 on the lagoon off Barra de Navidad.

We want to make Panama during the course of the dry season (January through April), spending time at the Perlas Islands, as well as Panama City and possibly some of the coastal jungle along the way before heading to Ecuador, where tropical storms, hurricanes, lightning and high humidity all promise to disappear - or so we are led to believe.

That's a broad sketch of our intentions for the upcoming season. Of course anything can happen to change our plans and Anna's course. You can always track us on our blog to see our current position, which reflects our current thinking.

***

It was just past sunset in Mentachen, five nautical miles to the south and east of San Blas. In the morning Anna would point her bow WSW past Punta Mita and then due south past Banderas Bay and Puerto Vallarta, and then southeast, skirting Cabo Corrientes on her way to Manzanillo.

Anchored off Mentachen, one and one-half miles from the breakers at the edge of the deserted beach and reefs the local panqueros burn coconut husks to repel the biting jejenes. The smoke wafts our way. It is pleasing. The air is steamy, balmy. The breeze is our smooth, comforting reward. And the mild swell in the calms reminds us of where we are.

Coconut-carved lanterns illuminate the street in Barra.