Brian was not entirely unscathed by the experience. While certainly happy to be below during the tribulations, our knock-over had launched a veritable typhoon of projectiles all about the cabin. About two thirds of them, he estimates, landed on some part of his prone form. Once we'd brought the bucking, galloping steed of a vessel back under control Brian spent the better part of an hour putting the cups, bowls, silverware, clothes, garbage, food and other miscellaneous items back in their places. (I think the experience broke the curse of his seeming to miss the exciting experiences aboveboard, but only time will tell!)
Our tailwind did eventually fade away as we rounded the corner of Guatemala, passing the boarder and entering Mexican waters. We spent a long day, the 2nd of July, pressing once again into light headwinds. Late into the night we swept along the coast, sighting at last the lights of Puerto Madero, the southernmost Mexican port. Well, I should put it this way: Brian and Eric sighted one of the lights of Madero. For some reason all they could find was the green harbor light. The GPS and the landmarks in the guide books confirmed that we were just off the harbor mouth, but where was the telltale flashing red? I was roused by the voices on deck:
Brian: "That's the green, but that can't be the red...it's up on the hill..."
Eric: "I thought that was the red, but it just disappeared behind that rock wall..."
Brian: "Eric, nav lights don't just disappear! It's either there or it's not. Stop guessing, that won't do us any good."
Eric: "Maybe that crane looking thing is it, but the light is broken..."
Me: in my head "Rock wall? Crane thing?"
I came above just as the situation was resolving itself. Dead ahead about ten yards was the end of a cement and stone breakwater with a crane atop it, both silhouettes against the cloud cover backlit by the lights of the harbor. Off our port side about fifty yards was a large ship of some sort (Navy? Freighter?). Brian and I shouted the command in unison � "Hard to port!!! Start the engine!!!" We pulled in the jenny and dropped the main while the bow swung away from the newly constructed extended breakwater. We kept swinging until we faced away from the harbor mouth in order to fall in behind the mystery ship. It flashed us with a searchlight, as if to say, "What are those crazy gringos doing now?" We waved and pointed to their stern. The light winked out and the ship proceeded down the channel. We followed but she outdistanced us quickly. Given the change to the external ramparts of the harbor we could not be confident about what to expect on the inside. Our charts and guides displayed a short entrance channel that split into branches north and east. They also warned of shallows and constant dredging.... The last thing we wanted was another grounding. Visibility was reduced by our unfamiliarity with the harbor as well as a thin mist rising on the banks. Could be worse...could be rainy. And then it was. Progressing e-v-e-r s-o s-l-o-w-l-y we picked out the landmarks (Port Captain's building, the north channel, the east channel) and made an informed decision to take the east channel, find the Navy base, and throw anchor on their doorstep, as it were. Then we could get directions, since it would be shocking if the military didn't take an immediate interest in us. This being an international port of entry the Mexican Navy is obliged to inspect all vessels coming and going. We figured that placing ourselves right under their noses would relax suspicions and give us a good sheltered spot to throw the anchor. We did just that. In the drizzling early morning hours of the third of July we came to rest at the perimeter of the base's waters. And we were right about the interest we generated. Twenty minutes after we'd tossed the hook and gone below a squad of navy personnel, replete with automatic weapons at the ready and a drug sniffing dog, was knocking on the hull.