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Having accepted an invitation to a 4-day sailing trip in Mexico, I found myself on board the sloop "My Darling". The plan was to cross over to Baja California, a distance of 70 miles and do some cruising and fishing there and on to Mulegé and Bahía Concepción. We were a party of four; two experienced sailors and two novices.

We motored out of the marina and when hoisting the mainsail, a bird’s nest fell out of the sail. Three little birds fell out with it. One little fellow flew out to open sea and after 30 feet dive-bombed into the water and went under. One was caught and put in the cabin to fetch for itself. By trying to catch the other fledgling, it also flew to open sea and drowned. As a sailor, and therefore being superstitious, I saw this as a bad omen. Two bad omens!

Under full moon we motored to Santa Rosalía, where we arrived early next morning. I released the only surviving bird near some trees and wished him luck. Even at this early hour the weather was already stifling hot and humid. We did some sightseeing and of course visited the metal church designed by Gustav Eiffel, the designer of the Eiffel tower in Paris, and then on to Mulegé, where we dropped anchor at 8pm. On the way we trolled 2 fishing lines and caught one fish after the other. All big dorado’s. The dorado (called mahi-mahi in Hawaii) is a colorful fish. Top part is dark green and the lower part is light green. It changes its color to blue when dying and turns white when dead. At Mulegé we rowed ashore and took a taxi for some sightseeing. The first thing the cabdriver did was handing out beer and he took one for himself too. I thought if you could drive with a cell-phone in one hand you can also drive with a beer in one hand. Until now the trip was without any problems, but this was about to change soon.

Next day found us motoring into Bahía Concepción, a beautiful bay with nice view and coves and calm water. All of a sudden, everything thing turned quiet, the engine had quit running and we were without the use of the engine. We needed a tow back to Santa Rosalía. While trying to tack out of the bay, the Capitán was on the VHF radio asking for assistance. There were not many takers.

Ultimately one tow took us to Punta Chivata, which was in the wrong direction, but at least we had a safe anchorage there. Finally we made contact with the Port Captain of Santa Rosalía, who promised to pick us up the next morning, which to our great surprise and delight, he did. The tow back to Santa Rosalía took 4 hours; the time was killed by more fishing. The crew members on the towboat were also fishing and used their bare hands to haul in the fishing line; no rods were used.

At Santa Rosalía we planned to have the boat towed back to Guaymas by a Pemex oil tanker, after all, we had a Pemex (Petróleos Mexicanos) manager on board and he could surely “arrange” things for us. And for ourselves, we would take the ferryboat back. For whatever reason, things didn’t work out the way we had planned. Because there was some wind in the air we decided to try to sail back to Guaymas; after all the boat was a sailing vessel.

We refilled the water-tanks and took some ice on board. At this time of year the heat is oppressive, but more so is the humidity. During this trip our clothes were drenched with sweat most of the time. At last we were sail-ready or as ready as we were ever going to be.

The distance to Guaymas as I stated before, is about 70 miles and we expected to arrive there at noon the next day. After 4 hours of sailing, while being two miles from the island of Tortuga, the wind completely died down. We were becalmed for hours under a full moon, but too close to that island to really relax. After hours trying to catch some wind with a spinnaker, the wind suddenly picked up. And picking up it did, it grew stronger and stronger and turned into a full-fledged “chubasco”. Lightning was everywhere, it started to rain and the wind started to howl. During this storm we clocked wind speeds of 45 to 50 miles an hour. We were being pushed in a northerly direction by wind and by a following sea with huge waves. We were running under bare poles and steering like mad.
El Capitán did a great job steering the boat with the waves coming from behind and now in total darkness. Now and then the boat listed so much you had the chance to slide overboard. How we longed for daybreak. In daylight things look less threatening. The storm kept us pushing northward; we could not change direction and we couldn’t slow the boat down. Sometimes we did 8 knots and that without sails.
On the chart we saw that we had plenty of sea-room ahead of us without any danger of lurking rocks or islands. The way the boat was heading we had 80 miles of open water ahead of us.

When daybreak came we noticed the color and size of the waves. Dark blue waves and big ! The boat would surf down a wave and would be lifted up again violently. A constant wild roller coaster ride! We were now without sleep for 24 hours and getting tired. At noon we were still being pushed northward. Via the radio we asked for assistance in case we were getting too close to the shore, but nobody was willing to venture out into this wild sea. Quite understandably.

At one time, while I was steering, I saw a herd of whales coming straight at us, about fifteen of them. A collision with one of these huge creatures could be catastrophic. One swipe of their tail and it is all over. One whale came so close there was no water between him and the boat. I could have stepped on him for a ride. But they swam by peacefully.

The open sea-space ahead of us grew smaller and smaller, we were heading towards Tiburón Island. The waves had changed color; they were now greenish, indicating less deep water. If we could just make Kino Bay. Via the radio we asked if anybody could tow us into this bay, but again no takers. There was a panga (small fishing boat) waiting for us inside the bay and willing to take us to the shore. But getting ashore once inside the bay was not the problem. The problem was that we would not be able to turn into the bay and that we would be pushed passed the entrance, between Tiburón Island and the mainland into a straight called “Canal del Infiernillo”, or Hellish Canal! I am sure there is a reason it is named that way. While the waves were still pushing us from behind we dared to raise the jib in order to get better steering. With the jib up we made it around Punta Kino and anchored inside the bay. We had now been without sleep or rest for 36 hours. We had made it and survived this trip thanks to a well-built boat and the skills of the captain.

I’m sure we wouldn’t have run into so much trouble if we had only been able to rescue those fledgling birds at the beginning of the trip.

In November 2006, "My Darling" while being towed from Guaymas to Ensenada,
sprung a leak while rounding Cabo San Lucas
(at the tip of Baja California)
and sank.

A nice sailing vessel is no more.

Crossing the Sea of Cortez aboard "My Darling"
In June 2001, the four of us decided to cross from San Carlos on the mainland of Mexico to Santa Rosalia on the Baja California side and do some cruising from there. For those not familiar with this area; this part of Mexico has one of the most beautiful sailing areas in the world and that just 300 miles south of the border. My friend, the captain, owns a 40 foot sailboat, sloop rigged. July is not the best time of sailing there or of even being there; hot and humid, however this was the time convenient to all four of us.
This is our story of pleasant cruising with some close calls!
CROSSING ! Having accepted an invitation to a 4-day sailing trip in Mexico, I found myself on board the sloop "My Darling". The plan was to cross over to Baja California, a distance of 70 miles and do some cruising and fishing there and on to Mulegé and Bahía Concepción. We were a party of four; two experienced sailors and two novices. We motored out of the marina and when hoisting the mainsail, a bird’s nest fell out of the sail. Three little birds fell out with it. One little fellow flew out to open sea and after 30 feet dive-bombed into the water and went under. One was caught and put in the cabin to fetch for itself. By trying to catch the other fledgling, it also flew to open sea and drowned. As a sailor, and therefore being superstitious, I saw this as a bad omen. Two bad omens! Under full moon we motored to Santa Rosalía, where we arrived early next morning. I released the only surviving bird near some trees and wished him luck. Even at this early hour the weather was already stifling hot and humid. We did some sightseeing and of course visited the metal church designed by Gustav Eiffel, the designer of the Eiffel tower in Paris, and then on to Mulegé, where we dropped anchor at 8pm. On the way we trolled 2 fishing lines and caught one fish after the other. All big dorado’s. The dorado (called mahi-mahi in Hawaii) is a colorful fish. Top part is dark green and the lower part is light green. It changes its color to blue when dying and turns white when dead. At Mulegé we rowed ashore and took a taxi for some sightseeing. The first thing the cabdriver did was handing out beer and he took one for himself too. I thought if you could drive with a cell-phone in one hand you can also drive with a beer in one hand. Until now the trip was without any problems, but this was about to change soon. Next day found us motoring into Bahía Concepción, a beautiful bay with nice view and coves and calm water. All of a sudden, everything thing turned quiet, the engine had quit running and we were without the use of the engine. We needed a tow back to Santa Rosalía. While trying to tack out of the bay, the Capitán was on the VHF radio asking for assistance. There were not many takers. Ultimately one tow took us to Punta Chivata, which was in the wrong direction, but at least we had a safe anchorage there. Finally we made contact with the Port Captain of Santa Rosalía, who promised to pick us up the next morning, which to our great surprise and delight, he did. The tow back to Santa Rosalía took 4 hours; the time was killed by more fishing. The crew members on the towboat were also fishing and used their bare hands to haul in the fishing line; no rods were used. At Santa Rosalía we planned to have the boat towed back to Guaymas by a Pemex oil tanker, after all, we had a Pemex (Petróleos Mexicanos) manager on board and he could surely “arrange” things for us. And for ourselves, we would take the ferryboat back. For whatever reason, things didn’t work out the way we had planned. Because there was some wind in the air we decided to try to sail back to Guaymas; after all the boat was a sailing vessel. We refilled the water-tanks and took some ice on board. At this time of year the heat is oppressive, but more so is the humidity. During this trip our clothes were drenched with sweat most of the time. At last we were sail-ready or as ready as we were ever going to be. The distance to Guaymas as I stated before, is about 70 miles and we expected to arrive there at noon the next day. After 4 hours of sailing, while being two miles from the island of Tortuga, the wind completely died down. We were becalmed for hours under a full moon, but too close to that island to really relax. After hours trying to catch some wind with a spinnaker, the wind suddenly picked up. And picking up it did, it grew stronger and stronger and turned into a full-fledged “chubasco”. Lightning was everywhere, it started to rain and the wind started to howl. During this storm we clocked wind speeds of 45 to 50 miles an hour. We were being pushed in a northerly direction by wind and by a following sea with huge waves. We were running under bare poles and steering like mad. El Capitán did a great job steering the boat with the waves coming from behind and now in total darkness. Now and then the boat listed so much you had the chance to slide overboard. How we longed for daybreak. In daylight things look less threatening. The storm kept us pushing northward; we could not change direction and we couldn’t slow the boat down. Sometimes we did 8 knots and that without sails. On the chart we saw that we had plenty of sea-room ahead of us without any danger of lurking rocks or islands. The way the boat was heading we had 80 miles of open water ahead of us. When daybreak came we noticed the color and size of the waves. Dark blue waves and big ! The boat would surf down a wave and would be lifted up again violently. A constant wild roller coaster ride! We were now without sleep for 24 hours and getting tired. At noon we were still being pushed northward. Via the radio we asked for assistance in case we were getting too close to the shore, but nobody was willing to venture out into this wild sea. Quite understandably. At one time, while I was steering, I saw a herd of whales coming straight at us, about fifteen of them. A collision with one of these huge creatures could be catastrophic. One swipe of their tail and it is all over. One whale came so close there was no water between him and the boat. I could have stepped on him for a ride. But they swam by peacefully. The open sea-space ahead of us grew smaller and smaller, we were heading towards Tiburón Island. The waves had changed color; they were now greenish, indicating less deep water. If we could just make Kino Bay. Via the radio we asked if anybody could tow us into this bay, but again no takers. There was a panga (small fishing boat) waiting for us inside the bay and willing to take us to the shore. But getting ashore once inside the bay was not the problem. The problem was that we would not be able to turn into the bay and that we would be pushed passed the entrance, between Tiburón Island and the mainland into a straight called “Canal del Infiernillo”, or Hellish Canal! I am sure there is a reason it is named that way. While the waves were still pushing us from behind we dared to raise the jib in order to get better steering. With the jib up we made it around Punta Kino and anchored inside the bay. We had now been without sleep or rest for 36 hours. We had made it and survived this trip thanks to a well-built boat and the skills of the captain. I’m sure we wouldn’t have run into so much trouble if we had only been able to rescue those fledgling birds at the beginning of the trip. But then, I'm just a superstitious sailor ! June 29, 2001 Jan Fokkema Tucson, Arizona In November 2006, "My Darling" while being towed from Guaymas to Ensenada, sprung a leak while rounding Cabo San Lucas (at the tip of Baja California) and sank. A nice sailing vessel is no more.

CROSSING !