All missions accomplished, we made for the beach. We set our gas jugs down in the shade � shade provided by the wreck of a small sailboat. Walking around it I noted that it was about the same size as Faith, and even had the same colors. It looked like it�d been beached for years: completely stripped from stem to stern. �Oh, no,� Jorge explained, �just months. A storm came, phew! Big waves, strong wind. I watched it, the owner he was gone, I was watching for him.� Brian and I traded a surreptitious glance. Jorge took a long swig of his beer, smiled, shaking his head in pitiful remembrance. �Now,� he continued, �it�s my boat.�
Upon further inquiry the story unfolded like this: The boat�s owner had sailed it down from San Diego early in the winter cruising season, then run into some sort of problem. He�d been forced to go back to California and left Jorge in charge of keeping an eye on the vessel. Four or five months later a spring storm whipped through. In the middle of the night fifty knot west winds had blown in, kicking up large swells that grew with the incoming tide. The boat had lost its hold on the bottom and been thrown up on the beach. Jorge frantically called the owner, (�your boat�s up on the beach, what do you want me to do?�) who told him, � Jorge, it�s your boat now.� And so, apparently after cleaning everything worth anything from the hull, Jorge was now lackadaisically shoveling out the sand that each high tide deposited in the cabin. While we stood taking in the wreck he produced a shovel and unloaded a couple spade fulls. Leaning on the shovel he gave the sand a baleful look, then brightened, �You can meet the family!�
We marched up the strand about fifty yards to a single level house overlooking the harbor and the bay. Three generations of Jorge�s family lived there: mother, siblings (of which Jorge was one) and children. The family received us well but I was anxious to get back to the boat � the day was still very young and we could conceivably get the rudder repairs done before dark. Happily, our concierge understood the need for a timely return. He led the way back to the beach, perused the drinking water drop point, �I don�t think your guys are coming,� and taxied us back to the Faith.
After the short ride we interrupted Eric in the middle of clearing out the galley (pots and cooking utensils littered the deck) and hanging out every article of wet clothing aboard � a substantial task following six days at sea. �Eric!� we cried, �good news! We�re moving the boat over to the dock to work on the rudder! Right now!�
The Cook threw his hands in the air in consternation, �Every time I start something��
�No, no, no. This stuff can all stay out, we�re just moving over, tying off and setting some anchors.�
On the way over to the boat Brian and I had discussed the possibility of putting Faith in the shallows with Jorge. He agreed to show us a spot where we could work without having to swim the whole time. Having a decent footing would make all the difference in ease of repair. And I had a plan.
Eventually, we�d have to replace the rudder. But Baja in its entirety probably didn�t contain enough hardwood to build one. Instead we could fashion a metal sheath to fit around the upper rudder rod by bending some of the aluminum sheeting I�d found. Put a few nails through to fasten it solidly. The reinforcement would guarantee that the rudder wouldn�t come off the boat. A few more nails at the back of the rudder for tying our nylon strapping to and we�d have a much stronger version of our temporary fix. Strong enough to get us to Ensenada�.further if necessary. I hoped.
We tied up to the dock and splayed the anchors at the beach to pull the stern in toward shore, locking our position. Then I dug out my tools, mask, snorkel and swimming suit and went to work. First there was the shaping of the aluminum bracket � simple matter of bending the metal around a section of the rod the tiller connects to. Next I pre-punched the holes for the nails (I�ve learned that anything you can do above water to make the underwater part shorter and easier makes a huge difference when you�re trying to hold your breath, line up the project, use a tool, and keep water out of your mask.) Meanwhile, Eric organized the galley and Brian straightened up the decks. I�d been in the water about twenty minutes when the trouble started. Mas problemas for us all.