01-June-2011 our life. daily. santa cruz.
Today was to have been the day we left Santa Cruz in our wake. We were just going to pop across the bay to Monterey and wait out a storm front moving through. So anyway, we cast off the dock lines and headed for the breakwater. Not a hundred yards outside I heard the engine hesitate and thought, “Oh shit.” Five seconds later we were dead in the water. The wind was on our nose and so was the swell, putting us on a lee shore. It was a pretty ugly spot to be in. We quickly dropped the anchor, which grabbed and bought us a little time. I went below to try and bleed the fuel line again, and Ali got on the VHF to alert the Harbor Police that we were just outside swinging at anchor in the swimming area. I failed in my attempt to get the boat running again, and within a couple of minutes the Police were alongside of us throwing a tow line on.

If I felt like a complete jerk-off last time, this time I’m not even sure what words to use to explain how stupid I felt. I really was sure I had fixed the engine problem. Anyway, they pulled us back in, we tied up to a dock with a lot less swell than the fuel dock, they blew out their steering hose in the process, and Ali and Ouest immediately disembarked and headed for the beach.

I went through everything again. Removed all the hoses, checked they were clear, replaced all three filters, drained the pre-filter, and did pretty much anything else I could think of even remotely related to fuel. When I finished I bled the line again. And this is where I discovered where I went wrong last time.

When I bled the line last time I pumped and pumped right up until a smooth flow of fuel came out of the bleeder valves. It’s how I’ve always done this job, and looking back this is probably why I’ve had air in the fuel line problems a few times before. So today when I was bleeding them I pumped and pumped until the smooth flow began, and then I pumped a few more times. And wouldn’t you know it, big air bubbles came popping out again. This happened two or three times before the fuel really ran through clean. I repeated this for both fuel filters and the injector and then fired her up. First turn, as always. And then I let it run for a good hour at different RPMs in gear and in neutral. It all seemed pretty good until I noticed a small leak coming from the bleeder valve bolt on one of the filters. This may be why I’ve been getting air in the system all along. Tomorrow I’ll go to the store, get a new little copper washer, bleed the system again, run the engine, and then, hopefully, call it good.

This has been a less than auspicious start to the trip. I believe our per day average is somewhere around eleven miles at this point. It’s going to take a long time to get to Mexico at that rate.

02-June-2011 bumfuzzle.
A lot of rain is in the forecast, so today we made a mad scramble to remove and then reseal one more window. Leaks are the bane of our existence on boats. Nothing puts Ali in a worse mood than water dripping inside the boat onto her undamaged teak. And nothing puts me in a worse mood than Ali’s worst mood.

I also went back to work on the engine today. I knew it was going to need to be bled again because yesterday I spotted a leak in one of the filter’s bleed valves. I started pumping but couldn’t get any flow. I eventually figured out that the Racor primary filter was half full of air and there was no fuel at the level of the fuel line. So I poured fuel in there and began pumping again.

I got the first filter bled, then opened up the Racor, topped that off again, bled the second filter, topped the Racor off again, bled the injectors, topped the Racor off again, and then bled them all again just for good measure. Now this time I know for sure that there is no air in any of the filters, in the injectors, or in the lines. Everything is plum full of diesel.

I ran the engine again for a good hour and everything seems good. I haven’t spotted any leaks this time around. We’ll run it for another hour or so before we head out again to be sure.

02-June-2011 our life. daily. santa cruz.
Considering we had no intention of even stopping in Santa Cruz, the fact that we’ve now been here a week seems unbelievable. We’ve been here so long in fact that today we had to lug laundry a mile up the road to the laundromat and go to the store for more milk. Now that we’re on a new slip further inside the marina, and the holiday weekend rush is over, this place seems a whole lot better. However we still need to get moving. We can’t stop until we can ditch the sweatshirts.

03-June-2011 bumfuzzle.
This morning we woke up ready to head to Monterey once again. I ran the engine for another hour, making a total run time of some three hours since the last bleeding. Everything was good. We pulled away from the dock and motored a couple hundred yards to the gas dock and pump out. Filled up, ran the engine for another fifteen minutes, joked with the Harbor cop that it didn’t look like he’d have to come get us today, and then pulled away. Not fifty yards from the dock the engine died.

I am completely lost. I mean obviously the fuel system is sucking in air somewhere, but how in the heck can it run for over three hours? In gear, out of gear, high RPMs, low RPMs, no problem. Enter the channel and dead in the water.

It was calm with not a breath of wind so there was no danger involved, but being in the middle of the channel is not a cool place to be, so once again the Cops came up and pulled us back to our end tie a few docks back.

I called a mechanic but was told he was three weeks out. I asked for names and he only had two. Said they were both swamped with some sort of government repower program. He gave me a few ideas and said good luck.

So this afternoon I took off the hoses again, plumber taped them again, tightened them again, removed the fuel filters again, replaced the rubber gaskets again, took special care in getting them to seat properly again, and then bled the whole darn system, AGAIN.

I ran the engine for a half an hour and then went to bed. We’ll see what shakes out tomorrow.

03-June-2011 our life. daily. santa cruz.
Just because we can’t seem to make ourselves cruisers again doesn’t mean we can’t at least look the part. That means draping Ouest’s stroller with all of our laundry and lugging it a mile up the road to the laundromat where next door we’ve discovered Betty’s Burgers. Not many hamburgers can get me excited, but man these are good. Ouest has been getting into sauces lately too. She got her first taste of salad dressing a couple of weeks ago and immediately took a liking to that, including eating the salad. Then today she reached across and stuck her finger in the ketchup. Game over. Salami, cheese, oranges, melon, pickles, they all got ketchup. A forkful of ketchup? Why not.

04-June-2011 bumfuzzle.
First thing this morning I cracked open a bleeder valve on one of the filters. No loss of fuel in there. So that’s a good start. I then ran the engine for another hour, in gear and out of gear. We’ll take a look again during Ouest’s nap.

Now this evening we’ve completed this process three times today, running the engine for a couple of hours in total and checking the bleeder valves for air every time. They all look good. No air that I can detect. I open the valve, peek inside, see the fuel at the top, put the bolt back in, give the pump one squeeze, watch the fuel come flowing out, and quickly tighten the bolt back up. As far as I know this is all that can be done. I can’t see any problem whatsoever. That’s not to say that I’m feeling a hundred percent that I’m right. I could be completely missing something that I’m just not aware of. I’ve pretty much learned everything I know about diesel engines on the fly and by trial and error. And that’s all this really is as well. Though I sure hope I’m right this time.

04-June-2011 our life. daily. santa cruz.
It’s fifty-eight degrees, it’s pouring rain, and the weather.com headline reads, “Unusual California weather continues.” Brutal. It’s eighty in Minnesota today for crying out loud. It’s June in California and I haven’t gone a single day since last October without wearing a sweatshirt at some point.

So with all that loveliness going on outside we made our way to the shopping mall via the only bus line that runs by the marina. This marina seems like it is in a prime location and would be surrounded by all sorts of good things, but in truth it is really isolated and there is hardly anything within a mile or two radius. The nearest grocery store is a mile and a half away. Not a big deal when you’ve got a car, but when the closest thing to a mode of transportation you’ve got is a stroller, it can take two or three days to get psyched up enough to make the trek.

At the mall Ouest went crazy in the kids play area. She was climbing things that she would have never made it up before. The peer pressure of watching the fifty other bigger kids do things she wouldn’t have tried before pushed her right over the edge. We ate lunner, bought nothing, and came home, somehow hitting a break in the rain.

We browsed through a Borders for kid’s books today and I had to marvel at the fact that they were trying to charge full list price for these things. Who in their right mind buys a kid’s book for eighteen dollars? God bless the internet.

05-June-2011 bumfuzzle.
Ever notice that when monohullers are trying to argue the merits of a single hull they invariably mention that, “If it flips over at least it will flip back.” I have to say, for me at least, this argument means nothing. Either way, if my boat, cat or mono, flips over, my sailing days are done. I mean how many women are going to be okay with their boat flipping over, the entire contents of it, including themselves, being thrown from the floor to the ceiling and back to the floor again? No, the rolling over argument does me no good.

Back to the engine. So again, I had tightened a bunch of fittings, reseated the fuel filters, and ran the engine a bunch of times. I checked for fuel in the line each time and didn’t find any. Ran the boat in gear pretty hard tied to the dock, let it sit, checked again, still no air in the line.

Then just to be sure I decided to crack open the Racor filter and see if it was topped up still. It wasn’t. It was empty right down to the level of the fuel lines themselves. I poured diesel in and filled it up but then watched as it ran right back down to the fuel line level again. I did this three or four times but couldn’t for the life of me figure out where that fuel could possibly be going. I checked the bleed valves on the filters and injector again and still no air.

Then it hit me that the fuel must be backing up the line instead of down the line. I closed the fuel shut off valve (at the moment only the port tank is open) and poured fuel in the Racor filter again. This time it didn’t drain away but instead stayed filled up. Open the fuel shut off and again the fuel disappears back down the line leaving the Racor half full of air. Air which I assume will eventually get sucked into the fuel line when the engine is running, causing it to stall out once again.

So I don’t understand how the fuel can do this. It’s running uphill. Albeit not very far uphill, only a few inches in fact, but still it is uphill. The only thing I can think is that somehow there is some sort of back pressure built up that is sort of sucking the fuel back into the tank.

It’s Sunday and I can’t get anything done around here, but tomorrow I’m going to go buy a longer fuel line (two actually, one for each tank), a new fuel shut off valve (just because these two are looking pretty old), and run the fuel line down a foot or two off the Racor filter and then back up to the highest point I can. Maybe even put a loop in it? I’m not sure what the best solution is. But I would think that would do the trick in getting it to stop flowing backwards into the tank.

At this point I am wide open to suggestions from those more knowledgeable than I.

UPDATE: Okay, got over fifty e-mails in just a couple of hours. And that’s on a Sunday. I’m in trouble if I don’t update this now and head off the “I’m back to work so let me check in on my blogs” crowd. The consensus seems to be a clogged vent hose. So that’s where I’ll start tomorrow morning. A few people also suggested the Racor filter itself has a leak. I’ve got more gaskets and seals for that one so I’ll replace those as well. Another suggestion that has come up often has been to pressurize the system with a 12v fuel pump in the line in order to try and find the leak, if there is one. I’ll revisit that if nothing else works. I will quickly mention that the other day when fueling up, the starboard tank had fuel come spilling out of the vent. The port tank did not have this issue. Anyway, thanks for all the suggestions. I’ll get cracking on it in the morning and let you know what turns up.

05-June-2011 our life. daily. santa cruz.
As of this morning we still thought there was a good chance we were getting out of here tomorrow. That meant another bus ride to the grocery store. And since the grocery store was across the street from the mall that meant another trip to the kid’s play area in the food court. If we are stranded in Santa Cruz much longer we may just start sending Ouest to the mall by herself and tell her to be home before dark. I don’t think she’d mind.

Tonight when putting Ouest to bed she had a breakdown of monumental proportions. Totally out of character for her. She usually goes to bed with no issues, but tonight she got upset. I tried to calm her but the crying continued, then she started calling for Mama, then the crying escalated until she could hardly breathe. Neither of us could get her under control. None of us, including Ouest after a few minutes of this, had any idea what was the matter. For an hour this went on until she finally fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion. She was still snuffling in her sleep thirty minutes later. Poor little girl. I’m glad this is not a regular part of bedtime.

06-June-2011 bumfuzzle.
All right, so this morning the first thing I did was check the fuel vent lines. Turns out both fuel tanks t-off in to one vent line going outside. Once I was in the engine compartment I could see immediately that there was a problem. The vent line dipped down to about the level of the bottom of the fuel tanks before going back up and outside. So I went outside, unscrewed the vent hose so that I could reach it and gave a good blow. It was full of fuel sitting in the low hanging line. As I blew I could hear all the fuel going back into the tanks and then on the next blow the air came rushing back out to me. I went back in secured the line up higher, went back out and gave one more blow down the hose to be sure, and called it done.

With fingers crossed I started the engine. I started it with the fuel shut off valves both closed. After starting I immediately opened up one tank. My hope was that between doing these two things we would have stopped the reverse flow of fuel once the engine was stopped.

So ten minutes later I shut it down and opened up the Racor filter to have a look. The fuel had dropped again. Not good. I then shut the fuel shut off valve and topped up the Racor with diesel. It stayed filled. I opened the fuel shut off (I did this with both tanks separately) and the fuel immediately began to flow back down the line.

Disappointed now, I decided to move on to something else and drop the Racor filter down a few inches to get it below the level of the tank. Not that I really thought this would do any good, but I figured it also couldn’t hurt. As I undid the four mounting bolts fuel began to drip on my hands. I looked closer and discovered the diesel was now dripping pretty quickly out of the seam in the casing that holds the top and bottom sections together. I don’t know how my loosening the four mounting bolts could have made this start to do this, but it seems fairly clear now that this is where air was getting in. Why fuel wasn’t getting out previously I’m not sure, but either way this is a leak that needed to be fixed. I took one long look at this twenty-odd year old filter and decided that I’d throw some money at a new one instead of trying to fix this thing.

So next I wandered up to West Marine. Wander. West Marine Santa Cruz is located over two miles from the harbor. They never put these stores near the water. Of course they didn’t have the unit I needed so I ordered it and will have it tomorrow. In the meantime I decided to replace all of the old fuel lines and fuel shut off valves as long as I was in this project up to my elbows anyway.

While I was looking at the fuel filters another guy was doing the same thing. We got to talking and it turned out his boat is two slips away from ours. When he heard me moaning to the West Marine employee about their store’s location he immediately offered me a ride back. Nice. Turned out he was having air in the fuel line problems himself but had no real idea how to go about properly bleeding the system so when we got back we hopped on his boat and got him squared away. I thought the coincidence of us running into each other, me needing a ride, and him needing somebody to show him how to bleed a line, was a pretty good one. Win win.

So anyway, tomorrow I’ll know more. If I don’t solve this soon Ali is going to kill me. And not because she cares about the boat problem so much but because we now have well over a hundred e-mails in the inbox.

07-June-2011 bumfuzzle.
I truly hate West Marine. Sure they are all super friendly there, but I swear that too many of them just can’t do their job. Meaning of course that my fuel filter didn’t arrive today as promised. The real problem with that is that the weather is absolutely perfect for sailing down the coast and around Point Conception in the next couple of days.

So today instead of doing nothing I decided to just bypass the filter completely and see what happened. I put in a check valve and an inline fuel filter, bled the system, and then ran it. All looks good. I may still hang around and pick up the filter tomorrow, but at least now the boat appears to be up and running.

07-June-2011 our life. daily. santa cruz.
Our new friend Mark showed up on our doorstep this morning and offered to run me around town. First stop was West Marine where we found his part had arrived as promised, mine had not. Then we went to The Hose Shop which was about the coolest place ever, with every single fitting, hose, and clamp ever invented. I had them whip me up a new valve for my as yet to be delivered filter. A valve for the two fuel lines to come in and then enter the filter as one. Seems simple when you are at a place like that, but try piecing that together working off of the West Marine or Home Depot shelves and it will never be right.

After that we swung by the laundromat where Ali and Ouest were hard at work. Last night was a wet diaper overflow night so the sheets and blankets had to go in today. Then back to Betty’s Burgers where we have quickly become regular fixtures. That’s really about all our day entailed. Ali and Ouest played at the beach while I plugged away at the engine, and then we all had a drink out on deck before dinner. Beer for me, N/A beer for Ali, and water for Ouest. The party most definitely is not on our boat these days. Total cost so far for the fuel/engine woes $393 including the new Racor filter that I haven’t hooked up yet. Not including the extra days spent here at the marina in Santa Cruz.

08-June-2011 our life. daily. at sea.
So this morning started out like this. We woke up at six, finished packing a suitcase for Ali and Ouest and then said goodbye when the taxi showed up. They were headed for the Greyhound station to take a bus down to Oxnard/Channel Island Harbor where they’ll spend the next two nights in the luxurious Hampton Inn.

I on the other hand will be at sea. We didn’t mention this plan B to anybody for two reasons: one, we weren’t interested in hearing anybody’s opinion on the matter, and two, I didn’t want to be forced to say no when a bunch of people offered to come along with me.

Frankly, what has happened is that the sailing season has gotten away from us. We are about five weeks behind where we had hoped to be at this time. In fact we had hoped to be in Puerto Vallarta by this week. At this point Ali is just too far along in the pregnancy to be at sea with me. She doesn’t have an exactly risk-free pregnancy going because of her full placenta previa. If she were to go into labor with this condition while at sea her and the baby could be in serious trouble. The other reason we’ve decided to go this route is that she really is not able to help out with boat handling anyway. I’d essentially be single handing the boat with her and Ouest onboard.

So anyway, the plan assuming this 260 mile passage goes okay is that I meet her in Oxnard and we then sail together down to San Diego. From there I’ll be taking the boat alone to Puerto Vallarta. Obviously this isn’t what we wanted or had hoped for. We wanted our trip south to be an enjoyable time and a fun story to tell the next little one someday, but this is the best we can do for now. We just want to get our home to Mexico for our soon to be two kids to live happily and care free in the sun and on the beach.

Noon: I’m halfway across Monterey Bay, motorsailing with a west wind at eight knots and about a five foot swell on my beam. Making an easy seven knots. Leaving Santa Cruz I was a bundle of nerves. Twice we’ve left there only to be towed back in with our tail between our legs. So today, even though I was confident that it wouldn’t happen again, there was just no way for me to be sure. I dropped the docklines and left one stern line wrapped around a cleat as I climbed aboard. The surge carried the bow out into the channel and I easily slipped the line through my hands until free. I motored out at very low RPMs, as the other two times the engine had died as soon as I gunned it to head out. I motored out so slowly and quietly that I had to whistle at two kayakers in the channel who were sort of aimlessly paddling right down the middle. I cleared the breakwater and then held my breath as the waves broke on the beach just fifty yards to my left.

Obviously I made it without incident. Once I was a mile out I felt confident enough that even if the engine crapped out I could sail myself out of trouble. Put the fenders away, tidy up the docklines, and hey, I’m on my way. My first ever single-handed sailing excursion. Twenty-four hours from Point Conception. I’m feeling salty.

13:00 Just spotted a couple of whales. Pretty far away unfortunately. Engine water temperature at a steady 130 degrees and oil pressure steady at 50 p.s.i. Everything looks good.

18:00 I’m starting to wonder how those guys that sail around the world alone do it. It’s boring not having anybody to talk to. All I’ve done for six hours is read and snack, read and snack. The swell is behind me now and so is the little bit of wind I’ve got. I’m still motorsailing. At over seven knots I might add happily. I feel no shame in motorsailing. Outright sailing to me is more for crossing oceans, not barrelling down the coast from one marina to the next. This trip has essentially become a delivery and I plan to make it as quickly as possible.

19:00 Ali must be getting Ouest out of the bath and into her frog pajamas right about now. I hope they had a good day. Seven hours on a bus isn’t a lot of fun, but I imagine the seats are quite a bit better than they are on a plane. And tonight they’re in a room overlooking the harbor that I will pull up at in twenty-five hours according to the charts calculator. I’d planned on two nights, but with this swell and a bit of wind I might just make it in one. The total mileage for this run is 264.

20:00 I’m really pleased with the dinghy davits set-up. On the cat it was always a struggle for me to secure it so it wouldn’t move around. On this boat I seem to have nailed the right combination of lines on the first try. That thing does not budge.

21:00 It’s night now, the boat seems to be swinging around more than during the day, but considering the conditions are the same I doubt that it really is. Night just seems to amplify everything on a boat. The noise, the movement, the feeling that if something will go wrong it will do so in the dark. It’s just the nature of night sailing. Speaking of which, this is the first time I’ve been sailing at night in nearly four years. It’s like riding a bike. Wind is at twenty knots from behind. Easy.

22:00 Ali and I had to have a talk before I left about when she would report me missing should I not show up. It’s sort of weird not having any means of contacting her. We never really got around to deciding what to do about e-mail on the boat, so we just skipped it for now. Anyway, we finally decided that four days seemed about right.

09-June-2011 our life. daily. at sea.
06:00 The sky is gray, and the ocean is black. The NW swell continues to push right up my arse and so does the light wind. I’ll be rounding Point Conception about noon.

The night was really uneventful. Not a single ship to be seen which kind of surprised me. I would have figured at least a few make the run up from Long Beach to San Francisco. I managed to shred pretty much all the skin off two of my knuckles doing something unexplainable with a jib sheet. It made me realize just how much I could use a couple of those line locking blocky things. I have no idea what they would call them, but I know I need my lines to run through them.

The engine stalled out at two o’clock when the port tank ran dry. My jury rigging bypass of the filter could only include one fuel line at a time. This arrangement doesn’t work all that great because the fuel return line only runs to the starboard tank. Thus, my port tank empties quickly if the starboard tank isn’t full. If it is full there is a line connecting the two tanks that would send the overflow back to the port tank. Anyhoo. Bleeding and restarting wasn’t nearly as easy in the rolling sea as it was at the docks. It’s amazing the force a rolling boat throws you across the floor with.

I did manage a little sleep during the night, grabbing fifteen minutes at a time. I laid in bed with the egg timer right on my chest and every fifteen or twenty minutes up I’d go to have a look around. Nothing going on. Back to bed.

10:00 Dolphins. First time they’ve come over and joined me in the bow wake. I can’t wait to share that experience with Ouest.

11:00 I’ve decided that I find the slow-rolly motion of the monohull to be rather comfortable. When I’m sitting down. It’s when I’m cooking, or more accurately, making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, or when I’m walking around that I don’t care much for it. I’m realizing that there is a distinct lack of handholds for those in the three-foot tall range. I foresee some seriously banged up heads in this boat’s future.

I’m making the turn around Point Conception right now. I’ve got no sails up, the wind is three knots, and there is about a five foot swell running in from behind. Couldn’t have better conditions in my opinion.

Unfortunately I’m not going to make it in tonight before dark. Probably looking at somewhere around midnight. I’ll have to decide at some point whether to go in at that time or slow the boat down and wait for dawn.

15:00 Sun is out. Fifty miles to go. About eight hours. Getting tired and hoping that when I hail the Harbor Patrol at Channel Islands Harbor that they tell me to come on in, the entrance is flat and easy to negotiate, and that they’ll come down and help me tie up. More likely I won’t get any response to my calls and I’ll go in with just my cruising guide sketch to lead the way.

One of the things I really like about this boat is the freeboard. This thing sits regally like six feet off the water meaning that, in following or beam on seas not a drop of water comes aboard. Actually that’s not true. I was lying in the cockpit earlier with my eyes closed when I felt a drop of something on my cheek. For some strange reason my first thought was that a bird had crapped on me. It took me more than a few seconds to realize I’d gotten a little splash from the sea.

19:00 Pretty excited to be in SoCal finally. Though it is still ridiculously cold out (I wore long john pants all day today) and the water temperature is still hovering right around the freezing mark. I can smell Mexico from here.

Ouest is going to bed right about now. Wish I could have made it in time to surprise her. Just twenty-five miles short.

10-June-2011 our life. daily. channel islands harbor.
At just before midnight last night I pulled in to Channel Islands Harbor. The harbormaster had me tie up at his dock then told me to wait fifteen minutes before coming inside to check in. So because I officially arrived after midnight my first night of sleep was on the house. After checking in I moved the boat down to the transient slips, tied up, sent an e-mail to Ali who was sleeping about a hundred yards away, and went to bed.

This morning I walked over to the hotel, reunited with my girls, raided the hotel breakfast bar, and scalded myself in the shower. Every landfall should be so welcoming.

Ali and Ouest had a pretty good couple of days. The Greyhound lived up to it’s stereotype and was dirty, ran two hours behind schedule, and was filled with winos and weirdos. It’s too bad actually. We’d been fooled into thinking they had sort of reinvented themselves, but it turns out all they really did was gloss up their logo a little bit and update their website. Next time we’ll take the train.

The marina, as it turns out, is not much of a place to be stranded without a car. It’s a sprawling place with not a whole lot to offer. We had originally planned to make this run to Santa Barbara, but upon checking into it we found that this weekend is the UCSB graduation and hotels were either booked or had jacked up their already high rates. Over two hundred dollars a night for a Holiday Inn anyone? This place has a stuck in the seventies feel to it. Almost like it is paying homage. It also feels as if whoever is in charge stopped caring about the same time. I’ve never seen so many empty slips in a marina before. Something that really surprised me based on the location. It’s a fine place for an overnight rest, but that’s about it.

A Bum friend stopped by this afternoon. We’ve been talking with Rodger by e-mail for years so it was great to put a face to the name. He brought me his copy of Jimmy Cornell’s World Cruising Routes and when I asked him when or how I could get it back to him he just said, “Just give it to me when you get back.” As in when you get back from sailing the world. Pretty nice.

Anyway, despite the loneliness of not having anybody to talk to and share with, I enjoyed the single-handed sailing. I didn’t feel it was any more taxing than normal. And from the looks of the weather for Baja I should continue to have some nice downwind days ahead. Perfect for sailing on your own. But before then we’ve got a few more days together including a couple of long day sails on our way to San Diego. Feels good to finally be south of Point Conception and into an area where the weather is much more stable and friendly for those of us headed in a southerly direction. Best of all, in just a few days I may actually be sailing shirtless. I dare to dream.

Our budding photographer.

11-June-2011 our life. daily. two harbors, catalina island.
After fueling up we left Channel Islands Harbor and headed southeast for Catalina Island. The weather was reminiscent of our Alaskan summer, slate gray, drizzle, and cold. And that’s how it would remain but for a two hour pinch near the end of the day.

The swell was kind of a mixed bag, which combined with the very light winds made for a rather uncomfortable start to the morning. Ouest as usual didn’t care to stay topside for long, wanting instead to retire below to her normal morning routine. It wasn’t long before her color changed and we were rushing her back out the door while she threw up. We’re really going to have to force her to spend more time outside when we leave on these early morning passages. She bounced right back though, and spent the rest of the day in happy blissful ignorance to the conditions. The hardest part with her is trying to make her understand why she is confined to the cockpit. We had more than one good cry result from keeping her from going forward to play on the front of the boat. I’m sure the whole thing is just confusing to her at this point.

We pulled up to Two Harbors Cove around five, had Bum friends out to the boat before we’d even gotten the mooring lines secure, eventually got dinner made, got Ouest to bed, and then fell asleep myself before eight o’clock had even rolled around.

12-June-2011 our life. daily. avalon, catalina island.
We went ashore at Two Harbors this morning for breakfast and to stretch our legs a bit. There isn’t much to the place other than a restaurant, a general store, a smattering of rental cabins, lots of hiking trails, and a couple of hundred mooring balls. It’s kind of sad actually that this is the best Southern California boaters can do as far as “getting away from it all.” Not that it isn’t a nice enough place, but seriously, hundreds of moorings spaced just a few feet apart. It has the distinct feel of a shopping mall parking lot. One of the unique things about their mooring fields is that each mooring is attached to two lines, one fore and one aft, meaning they can squeeze in even more boats than normal.

After all three of us had a nap we motored just two hours away to Avalon, queen of the shopping mall parking lot mooring fields. Not that there weren’t a few little cubby holes we could have tucked into and anchored at, there were, we just weren’t looking for that right now. Avalon on a Sunday isn’t all that bad a place. There was plenty of action going on in the water to keep us entertained as we kicked back with a beer and enjoyed the very first warm rays of sunshine we’ve experienced in California in as long as either of us can remember. San Diego is a long day sail away and at the moment neither of us is much in the mood. Avalon may just get another day out of us.

One of my favorite things about Ouest at this age is the utter lack of fear. Nothing is too dangerous or too gross. Today she carried around a couple of half dead mushy crabs that any four year old girl would run shrieking from. Then later on she managed to get herself totally wedged into her toy baby stroller while attempting some sort of impossible climbing maneuver. Every day is like this.

13-June-2011 ouest lill. eighteen months.
Wow. This is like a milestone birthday. Eighteen months. I don’t really know what to say about this month. It’s been a blur of activity really. Despite all of this living on a boat this is the month where you finally became a sailor. Blue water and all. The Golden Gate. It’s pretty cool. I love sharing these sorts of milestones with you.

You’ve exhibited a bit of seasickness, but have been just fine at times as well. I think the biggest problem is that you like to be downstairs reading books rather than out on deck watching for ships. There are worse things I suppose.

The words are starting to come now. You never showed much interest in talking before but now when we ask you to say something you do your best to repeat it. You’ve got a very sing-songy kind of voice and I doubt that any little girl has ever said Papa quite so beautifully.

We talk to you about the baby in Mama’s belly but I seriously doubt you have any idea of what we’ve got in store for you in just a couple more months. That palatial suite we built you, yeah, it’ll be gone soon, somehow converted into a room for two. Someday you’ll thank us for giving you a sibling. Right?

You’re a big strong girl who has already outgrown her size sixes and comfortably wears two year-old clothes. I’ll be amazed if you don’t grow to be a tall young lady. You’re smart, you’re sweet, and you’re a little shy around strangers. You always say bye to everyone we meet, but usually not until they’re walking away and out of earshot. The book Goodnight Moon now has us saying goodbye to every item in the boat before bed as well.

Bedtime is at seven still. You wake up once around midnight in need of a quick hug and lay down from me. Usually only a couple of minutes, which is a fair enough trade-off for having you sleep right through until seven in the morning. Nap time is around eleven and lasts like clockwork for ninety minutes. The rest of the day you’re free to roam.

Anyway, we’re in Southern California now and by next month you’ll be comfortably settled into life back on Mexican soil. The future looks like a lot of fun and we’re both glad you’re here to enjoy it with us.

Love, Papa

13-June-2011 our life. daily. avalon, catalina island.
Had a nice day hanging out in Avalon. Touristy, yes, expensive, you bet, but all in all not a bad place to spend a day walking around in the sun. When the sun finally came out that is.

In the morning Ouest took a header off of a cabinet door, while playing with Ali I’m happy to say, and gave herself her worst looking forehead lump of purple to date. No tears shed with this one. Somehow the worst looking injuries always seem to hurt her the least.

14-June-2011 our life. daily. san diego.
We slipped the mooring lines at seven this morning and motored out into a horror movie gray sky and matching ocean. It was also calm as can be with just the slightest hint of a swell. Not bad conditions really considering we had an all day seventy miler ahead of us.

We’d gotten a lot of advice telling us to put up the mainsail even when there was no wind in order to reduce the rolling motion of the boat. And what do you know, it worked a trick. It really did deaden the motion onboard. And as an added bonus, when a few knots of wind did show up we picked up an extra knot as well.

No seasickness for Ouest today which was great news, especially as she continued to want to spend 99% of her sailing day below decks. Granted, being confined to the cockpit up top really limits what she can do outside anyway, but still, the girl just loves her books and toys. No exaggeration, we read at least fifty books to her between the two of us today.

After close to twelve hours we sailed up the channel to what have to be one of the best bargains in all of California cruising, the San Diego Harbor Police docks. Ten bucks a day, a nice slip, and every store a cruiser could ever ask for, all within walking distance.

15-June-2011 our life. daily. san diego.
It seems lately that wherever we stay we are at least two solid miles from the nearest… Anything. While the Police docks may be cheap they are also located at the very far end of the Shelter Island peninsula. Back in the day a five mile round trip to the grocery store wouldn’t have been quite so daunting, but nowadays? Well let’s just say that is a little more daunting than before.

Along the route to lunner today I did manage to score the exact fittings needed for the Racor filter, and I did so in the very first marine store we walked into. By this time tomorrow we should have a proper fuel system up and running once again.

By the time we got back to the boat we had determined that if we were going to get anything accomplished in San Diego we were going to need a car. Enterprise? They’ll pick you up. Tomorrow we’ve got wheels again and the list checking off can commence.

We had always been under the impression that the fine people of San Diego lived in a world of perpetual sunshine and eighty degrees. However here it is the middle of June and we’re fully decked out in winter attire and the only sunshine we saw today was located a few miles away shining brightly on the downtown skyscrapers. It was weird actually. It never seemed to move off of them.

16-June-2011 bumfuzzle.
Back in the Bay I was getting my rigging done pretty much for free. Those days are behind us though, so today I put to use a small skill that was taught to me by my favorite West Marine riggers, whipping a line. Yep, riggers charge four bucks a pop to whip the end of a line, I did four in twenty minutes. Was it time well spent? Not really, as I have a ton of far more important things I should be doing, but it was still oddly satisfying. Give me another five years and I just might learn how to splice one of these things too.

16-June-2011 our life. daily. san diego.
Today was a non-stop day of getting things off the list. We picked up a rental car in the morning, spent a couple of hours at the laundromat, returned to the boat for Ouest’s nap, I left during the nap for the marine stores, off to lunner when Ouest woke up, internet at McDonald’s to get Ali’s flight to Mexico booked, then out to Target, back to the park for some playtime, Ouest’s dinner at the boat, then her bedtime, and finally a little bit of boat work. Non-stop for fourteen hours. After a day like that we should be able to take it a bit easier the next couple of days.

In the midst of all of that we had some Bum friends do a drop-in. I don’t think either of us really understood just how many Bum friends we’ve got out there now until we moved down to the Bay, and now especially since we’ve gotten underway. We have yet to be in a place that people haven’t stopped by to say hello. It sort of feels like we’re living in a small town. One where everybody either knows your name or at least recognizes your face. The boating community is small enough I guess that after being involved in it for a few years now we’re those small town faces. It’s flattering, though it does tend to make us feel as though we should at least try and tame our rat’s nest hairdo before going outside. I’m sure Ouest is just wondering who the strangers are in her living room all the time.

One of my earliest childhood memories is of going to the shoe store at Sun Ray shopping center by our house. We’d go in, buy me a new pair of shoes to replace the pair that my big toes were sticking out of the top of, and then I’d prance out of there raving about how high my new shoes could jump. I can still picture that little local store perfectly in my mind, from the shiny steel sliding foot measurer to the mirrors on the floor. Ouest doesn’t get that experience just yet, but even at this young age she understands completely the kind of magic powers a new pair of shoes can give you.

17-June-2011 our life. daily. san diego.
San Diego has been a nice stop. This morning we met with some Bum friends for breakfast. Liveaboards with a ten month-old and plans to set off on their own circumnavigation in a couple more years. We had a good time meeting them and letting the girls check each other out. Later on we finally got together with some other friends who just happen to be in the slip right next to us. It’s been fun for us to put faces to the names.

Preparations continue for our impending travel dates. Today we got a condo booked for Ali and Ouest in Puerto Vallarta. It’s obvious that not many people want to be in PV this time of year because we were able to book a beautiful place at just one third of the regular high season rates. We’ve got it for a month so after I arrive we can all kick back and enjoy the pool and air conditioning for a couple of weeks.

Today we went grocery shopping as well. It’s pretty easy shopping for food for me to prepare for myself. I have zero desire to use the stove which leaves me with really only one good possibility. Sandwiches. Mounds of meat, cheese, and bread. Make sure there is plenty of peanut butter onboard and I’m good to go.

I haven’t talked much about the trip south but that hasn’t stopped the cruising chat room experts from weighing in. One idiot said the trip would take me thirty-five days if I were to stop every night to sleep. Huh? Seriously, this guy has thousands of posts. These are the kind of “experts” on these forums. Stop every night to sleep. Like I’m driving a car down the interstate. “Well that was a good day, looks like the sun is starting to go down, I suppose I should pull in for the night and get some rest.” Remind me, have I ever mentioned just how highly I think of the people who spout off on these chat rooms?

Anyway, the trip from San Diego to Puerto Vallarta is about eleven hundred miles. First day is easy, from here to Ensenada, Mexico where I’ll stop to get cleared in to the country and get all my paperwork in order. Spend the night there and then head out again. After that there are only a couple of bays that I might consider stopping at along the way depending on the timing as I get near them and depending on my need for fuel. Or I may just continue on without stopping. Won’t know until I’m out there. Figuring an average speed of six knots I’m looking at about eight days if I were to sail straight through with good weather. Add in a stop or two along the way, and you’ve got ten days. Of course weather could always throw a crimp in the numbers too.

As for the weather, there has been a ton of boats filing through the marina the past few days, all returning north after a season in Mexico. And without fail they’ve said it has been a bash. Nice. Everyone has been getting fifteen to twenty-five knots of wind right from the NW, which will put it right behind me for a glorious downwind sail. The forecast at the moment shows nothing but these beautiful winds. I’m anticipating a nice, comfortable and fast passage.

18-June-2011 bumfuzzle.
Today I put the finishing touches on the Racor filter install. With the lines bled I fired up the engine, and as I watched it start up I also watched as a cloud of exhaust came shooting out of the engine as well. I shut it down and thought, “Well that explains the smell the last couple of times we’ve driven the boat.”

I took a look and found that the two hose clamps holding on the huge exhaust hose weren’t on very tight and in fact one of them broke as I tightened it up. So with those replaced and in the right spot I fired her up again. And got a cloud of exhaust in return.

This time I took a closer look and it didn’t take long to find the source. A hole about an inch long and a quarter inch wide had rusted right through the exhaust manifold. I cleaned it up, got out the JB Weld, and it should be good to go again by morning.

Glad I discovered this but wish I had found it right away. I had attributed the smell to all of the spilt diesel that had been getting on the engine the past couple of weeks as I bled and rebled the lines. Anyway, never a good thing to have exhaust fumes filling up the house.

19-June-2011 bumfuzzle.
I got the charting program to talk with my autopilot so the two of them can coordinate with each other in an effort to steer me down the coast of Baja without running into anything. Or better yet, without me having to check every so often to confirm just how far we had drifted off course and then go outside to make the correction on the autopilot. Now the two of them can do that themselves. My job for the next week or so is just to raise the sails and make sure I don’t run into anything.

19-June-2011 our life. daily. san diego.
The past four days have been a blur. I can’t believe that in just a few hours we’re headed to the airport together and then splitting up for ten days or so while I go off sailing. This has been a stressful time and a hard decision for us to come to. We really would have liked nothing more than to have been here in San Diego about six weeks ago, before Ali got quite so far along, and before the hurricane season officially kicked in. But it is what it is, and two weeks from now it’ll all just be a memory, we’ll be happily melting in Mexico, and we’ll be just days away from welcoming another little one into the family.

As for hurricanes, a second named storm has popped up in the last couple of days. This one looks like it may just tap Cabo a few days from now, long before I get to the area. I’m not really worried about coming across a storm, but there is that possibility at this time of year. I guess the biggest issue is simply that I don’t have e-mail or a radio on the boat, meaning I won’t be getting weather updates unless I stop somewhere along the way or happen across another cruiser headed north. Judging by the number of cruisers that have been filing in here this week I’d say that’s probably my best bet.

Really the hardest part of this trip will be being away from my girls for so long. The sailing bit will be the easy part. We haven’t seen the baby in the belly in three months now and Ali will be getting to see him or her without me in just a couple of days. He/She has been active and growing yet I’m anxious to hear that everything is alright. Ali’s belly is much different this time around. Her belly shape is much more uniformly round than with Ouest. With Ouest she was all lumpy and crooked, but this baby looks like it has installed itself right in the middle of a basketball. This of course leads to all sorts of theories as to what it all means. Boy? Girl? Do we care? We’ve got a lot of pink stuff that we won’t be replacing, so either way everyone is going to think we’ve got a girl. Poor boy. Or girl. Whatever.

Anyway, we both need to get to bed. Big day tomorrow.

20-June-2011 our life. daily. ensenada, mexico.
The whole family was up at four-thirty this morning ready for a big day ahead. I brought the girls to the airport, found the parking area under construction and moved, dropped them at the terminal, drove all over to find parking, ran to the terminal, found that they had just gotten inside because of a fire alarm, rushed with them to security, gave them one last squeeze, and they were on their way.

After that I drove to Home Depot and picked up a carbon monoxide detector. Then I returned the car, got a ride back to the docks, picked up the boat, got the computer ready, threw off the lines and got underway. All by eight-thirty. Five minutes later I was hard aground. I have been exhibiting some rather poor seamanship lately, I’ll be the first to admit it. This was just another example of it as I cut the corner heading for the deep water channel. I was rushing all morning and was still rushing when I put the boat in the mud. Fortunately the tow boat had just finished another tow and was just five minutes away. It took zero effort for him to pull me maybe fifty feet back to the deeper water and I was on my way again.

Had light winds and a small following swell all day. Really very nice. Could have sailed alone at about four knots for a good chunk of the day but was rushing to get down to Ensenada before dark so motorsailed all day. Low RPMs and still well over a six knot average. I’m really really liking how fast this boat is motorsailing. The cat couldn’t motor over four knots, so to make a sixty some mile day like today would have required leaving in the dark early in the morning. I can count on much bigger runs in this boat.

Should mention that my JB Weld fix held up today and that the carbon monoxide detector didn’t go off once. I’m happy about that. It’d be nice if this could just hold up for me until PV.

Pulled in to Coral Marina about an hour before dark tonight. Too late to get anything accomplished. This marina is about two miles north of the normal city marinas here, but it has a fuel dock and if you spend the night they knock like fifty cents a gallon off the price. Meaning diesel is about two bucks a gallon cheaper here than in San Diego.

Ali and Ouest had a good day. Flights were on time, they got good seats all to themselves, and Ouest even managed a long nap. They got to the condo no problem, picked up a few groceries where Ali reports Ouest was the star attraction. She said the kids just went nuts for her. I can’t wait to get us settled in down there and for her to learn Spanish as quickly as she does English. It’s going to be so fun to see her running around talking and playing with the local kids.

Anyway, tomorrow I’ll get cleared in to Mexico, get fuel, and get back out to sea. Tomorrow Ali will be getting hit by the edge of Hurricane Beatriz. Fun, fun.

21-June-2011 our life. daily. baja coast, mexico.
So Coral Marina it turns out is about the least Mexican place I’ve ever been. But the nice thing about it is that it has diesel for just three bucks a gallon if you spend the night, and they’ll give you a free ride to the office to get your paperwork done. So that’s what I did this morning.

Clearing in to Mexico is pretty unbelievable. In a good way. I mean I doubt there is another country anywhere that would allow you to just show up, pay fifty bucks, and have an official document saying it is just fine for you to leave your boat in their country for the next ten years. Ten years for fifty dollars. Awesome.

All the offices are in one tiny building so clearing in is about as easy as it gets. The only hitch I ran into was that I needed to get a copy of my tourist card. The girl had a copier right behind her, but she of course couldn’t do this for me. I needed to walk a few blocks up the road to the pharmacy to get that done. After that we were golden. It took about an hour to get everything taken care of, but now both the boat and myself are officially in Mexico.

Back at the boat I quickly e-mailed Ali, untied, got fuel, and set out.

13:00 I was just making the turn between Islas Todos Santos and the mainland when the most awesome thing happened. I was in the middle of unfurling the Yankee, with a line in each hand when I heard what sounded just like a breaking wave over my right shoulder. In a split second a shot of adrenaline ran through me as there was only about eight knots of wind, no white caps on the water, and I was sailing through a rocky area.

But as I turned my head all I saw, maybe a hundred feet away at the most, was the giant curving back of a Humpback Whale. I could see every scratch on his body, every change in color, the texture, everything, as he slowly arched and slid back under. A moment later that unmistakable smell hit me. He never reappeared. Apparently I wasn’t as interesting as he had hoped.

It’s hard sometimes to remember that we are actually sharing space in this world with creatures such as these. And I don’t know why but whenever we have encounters with whales I never feel fear. I know they’ve been known to sink boats, but they just seem so docile, so well meaning, that you’d swear it must just be some misunderstanding when they hit a boat.

17:00 It’s going to be a long week. Not that the sailing isn’t wonderful. Fourteen knots of wind and small quartering seas have the boat moving at a steady five knots. Not bad for a big lug with sails that look like old ladies knickers.

19:00 All day I’ve been slowly sailing my way further offshore. As darkness falls tonight I’ll be about fifteen miles off and the miles will slowly tick up from there. That should give me a fair enough cushion should anything go wrong.

Whales surrounded me all day though nothing else came closer than about half a mile. At any given point today I could scan the horizon and witness the tell tale spray from the whale blow.

Of course immediately after writing this last paragraph I went outside and found another whale just a couple hundred yards off my bow.

22-June-2011 our life. daily. baja coast, mexico.
03:00 Well this just went from a sailboat delivery to a motorboat delivery. I was lying in bed when I noticed the motion of the boat change. I went up on deck, took one look up at my sail, and thought, “Oh boy.”

The mainsail tore right in half just above the second reef. Completely unusable. Guess it just couldn’t take the flogging in the light wind.

I knew this day would come and that I was simply pushing my luck with this old worn out sail, but man I sure was hoping for a little more use than this. Just a few more days at least. But oh well, it is what it is, nothing to be done but to trudge onward. Wind is only eight knots and the seas aren’t too rolly right now. Forecast shows that continuing for a while.

06:00 First night is out of the way and I actually got a ton of sleep. I’d set the egg timer for twenty-five minutes, fall asleep, wake up, walk outside, look around, and repeat. Probably got six hours of sleep like that. And of course not a ship in sight. If I were crossing the Pacific myself I’m pretty sure I’d just go right to sleep through the night without waking up.

Now that it is light out I pulled out the main to have a closer look and see if there was anything that could be done. I was hoping actually that I was mistaken and that the tear was below the second reef. It’s not. It’s ripped straight across from a foot above the reef right to the sail track. To be honest now I’m just sort of thankful that it didn’t get hung up in the rigging.

By noon tomorrow I should be pulling in to Turtle Bay where I can top off the diesel, check the weather, and hopefully continue my motor south. Right now I’m rolling along in seven knots of breeze with a tiny swell behind me. Five point five knots an hour clicking away easily.

12:00 My nice easy downwind sleigh ride has gotten considerably more uncomfortable and rolly since my mainsail defection. It’s noon and despite poking my head outside every now and then I’ve been most comfortable just lying in bed with a book. Hell, I even read my first Pardy’s book, Cruising in Seraffyn, and didn’t half mind it. Can’t really summon the energy for much more than that.

16:00 Well it took me the better part of the day but I eventually snapped out of my funk. I went outside and did some sanding for a while then came in and shaved. I know, serious stuff. I’m really a go-getter.

19:00 Just a dreary gray day. It’s looked the same outside since six o’clock this morning. Still sweatshirt weather which makes it hard to believe that in just a few days I’ll be cursing the heat and humidity. Eight knots of wind from behind and a northwest swell rolling along.

23-June-2011 our life. daily. turtle bay, baja, mexico.
08:00 Enjoyed another quiet night with only light winds from the south and a small swell pushing from the northwest. This morning the wind is gone and I’m motoring wobbly along towards Turtle Bay in gray cool weather. Looking forward to getting to town there and checking e-mail. It’s hard not knowing what is going on with my girls. Grandma should be there with them now so I’m sure they’re having a good time and have forgotten all about the old man on the sea.

Slept good again last night but found that a couple of times I slept right through the noise of the egg timer. Not for long, but still, not good. Ali took the alarm clock with her so I don’t really have any other options. I guess as long as I’m pointed out to sea and a good three hours or more offshore I won’t worry about it too much. Have only seen one ship in two nights out here. Thought I’d see more, and maybe even a few sailboats.

13:00 I noticed a big disturbance in the water about half a mile away so I turned that direction to check it out. A few minutes later there were hundreds of dolphins streaming towards me. A couple dozen stopped to play in the bow wake while the rest just flew on past down both sides of the boat. I was shooting video as they came up and then they left so quickly that I didn’t even get a picture. Love the dolphins. Oh, and the sun finally came out.

Ten miles to Turtle Bay. There’s a lot of funky currents around here. And weird things going on with the turtles too. I motored right past a group of about six young turtles all at the surface of the water with one flipper pointing straight up. Not sure what that was all about, sort of a one finger salute to me as I went by. I don’t think I’ve ever seen turtles hanging out together before.

17:00 Anchor is down and I’m in Turtle Bay. Dusty little place. Will get e-mail, check weather, get diesel in the morning, and be on my way again.

21:00 Being at anchor without Ali is the strangest feeling ever. There is something just not right about all of this.

24-June-2011 our life. daily. baja coast, mexico.
09:00 Back underway. I didn’t do much in Turtle Bay. Walked around the town, checked e-mail, had a couple of beers on the waterfront, but couldn’t bring myself to go sit in a restaurant for dinner. I don’t like the life of a lone ranger. Missing Ali and Ouest terribly. I think this would have been our kind of grubby little town if we were together. Alone it was just a place to get fuel and a good night of sleep.

El Gordo the fuel guy pulled alongside right on time this morning. The boat only took 25 gallons, which is simply amazing to me. That means I only burned half a gallon an hour, and that includes whatever was lost to my leaky tank. I’m still not one hundred percent sure that that is right, but should be able to tell now at the next fill up for sure. That’s the same fuel consumption we had on the cat running one twenty horsepower engine and moving at maybe four knots. With this boat we’ve got eighty horses and are getting five and a half knots. Much nicer.

I asked El Gordo while he was filling me up, “You must be very busy during the Baja Ha-Ha?” The rally each November in which a couple hundred boats buddy boat their way down the coast. I was trying to imagine him in his little fuel boat running around filling all those cruisers up in one or two days. His reply was simply, “Oh, much drinking. Much drinking.”

I changed the oil this morning and now have a bit of a concern. I think I’ve got a leaky head gasket. Remember, I just learn as I go, so I’m still figuring engines out, despite the experience I do have. Anyway, there are a number of things bothering me and they seem to point to the head gasket. White smoke in the exhaust. An oily film on the top of the coolant in the reservoir. And a slow oil leak which appears as if it could be coming from the head gasket, but looks more like it is coming from the rocker arm gasket. I don’t know. I’ll continue to monitor the oil level every few hours. In the meantime the engine is still running perfectly, the temp is normal and the oil pressure is normal. Fingers crossed.

It’s a glorious day out. Sunny blue skies, and cool air off the water. Sitting around in underwear with a book and a view of the mountains rolling by.

14:00 Saw two north bound boats today confirming that I’m not the only one still out here during hurricane season. Granted they’re heading away from it while I continue blissfully into the heart of it. I can’t wait to get to PV and settle in for a few months. I’m still having a hard time comprehending that we’ll soon be a family of four.

Photos taken by attaching the camera to the boat hook with a JOBY GorillaPod and duct tape.

18:00 Some wind showed up and amazingly enough this boat sails. The engine has been off for a couple of hours as we trundle along at over five knots with just the yankee out in fifteen knots of breeze. Very nice.

I’m struggling a bit tonight with the mental side of singlehanding. I’m surprised by just how challenging it is to be all alone in the world. To be without communication with your loved ones or even to receive any sort of outside stimulation at all. It’s just me, my thoughts, and the unceasing, uncaring ocean. I’m really longing to be there right now and having a hard time comprehending five more nights before I am.

20:00 Had a bit of a scare when I went to turn on the engine as the wind died away again. I turned the key and absolutely nothing happened. Some really ugly scenarios ran through my head for about ten seconds before it occurred to me what the problem was. There is a wire on the starter that is directly above the oil dipstick. If I’m not careful when I remove the dipstick I end up knocking the wire loose as well. Fortunately that’s all this was. I also discovered that checking the oil level on a moving monohull is not actually possible.

25-June-2011 our life. daily. baja coast, mexico.
04:00 Alright this is going to be hard for me to admit to. I often write about the mistakes I make and usually don’t think anything of it. We all make them. But this one, this one was so stupid I can’t believe it. About eight hours ago I turned on the engine. A few minutes later I checked my course and went to bed. Not giving any thought to my speed. I checked my course every twenty-five minutes as the alarm went off and noticed that I wasn’t making very good time. Four knots at best. I’d heard about a north running current along the coast so I assumed that I’d run into it. In addition to the slow speed the boat was drifting off course a bit.

Anyway, at four o’clock in the morning here I wake up and find I’m just making three knots. With eight knots of wind, a swell behind me, and the motor running at pretty low RPMs. Something is not right. As I stand in front of the steering console thinking about the possibilities I happen to notice the problem right there in front of me.

I never put the engine in gear. F%#@ me!

Needless to say I’m making much better time now. I wonder sometimes if I’ll ever stop making stupid boat mistakes.

And yes, normally I’d be thrilled to be making four knots in light winds. This however is not a normal time. I’m just trying to boogie on down this coast as quickly as I possibly can to get to my girls and while I’ve got good weather.

07:00 It was another quiet easy night out here on the coast of Baja. The moon rose up all bloody red over the desert, gradually becoming so white that it appeared to be close enough to reach out and touch. I saw two northbound sailors pass by. I wonder if they checked their compass as we passed just to make sure they were headed the right direction still. My funk has passed though I suspect after another long day alone it will return with the night.

09:00 Dolphins just joined me to say hello. If there were just one single reason worth being out cruising for, this would be it. Being so close to these guys never ceases to amaze.

13:00 Halfway there. I left San Diego Monday morning, it’s now Saturday, and I should arrive in Puerto Vallarta on Wednesday. Nine days. Wouldn’t be a bad passage if it works out that way.

15:00 I just cleaned the floors like I’ve seen Ali do a thousand times, with a tiny sponge. And man, that’s gross. I know I’m a fairly hairy guy, but come on.

I’m reading Peter Jenkins’ A Walk Across America right now and it’s already got me planning another little adventure. Oh these poor kids of ours, they’ve no idea what’s in store for them. I’ve read a couple of his other books and always wanted to read this one, but the way it works with us these days is that we don’t read anything until we stumble across it in a used bookstore somewhere. This one was finally discovered in Berkeley last month.

I also got to thinking about the Pardey’s book a little more. In it they said they spent $340 a month to cruise for a couple years. This was in the 70s. Tack on a three percent inflation rate and that comes out to $1000 a month today. Anyway, I just found it surprising that they were heralded as these super frugal cruisers based on these numbers. I guess I just would have thought cruising Mexico and Central America back in those days would have been infinitely cheaper than that. Seems to me they were living it up pretty lavishly, only on a twenty-four foot boat with no toilet. Did I actually just say “lavish” in the same sentence as “no toilet”?

It also makes me think that all the cruiser wannabe’s that think they are going to cruise on five hundred bucks a month are completely off their rockers. It simply is not going to happen. They’re going to have to cruise on just half of what the Pardey’s spent. Good luck with that one.

19:00 Long day. Nothing changed all day long today. The wind stayed a steady ten knots, the swell stayed small on the stern quarter, and we charged along motorsailing at seven knots. Good mileage. I’d considered stopping at Mag Bay, but I’ll be passing there in the middle of the night so that’s not an option. Meaning the next stop will be Cabo, where I should be pulling in first thing Monday morning. I’ll get a little fuel there just to be on the safe side as running out of diesel with nothing but a headsail could present some rather serious problems for me. Just a quick fuel stop though and then back at it for the trip across to the mainland. I can’t tear my eyes off of the route countdown clock on the charts. Puerto Vallarta on Wednesday morning at this rate.

20:00 Just spotted a couple whales about half a mile off. Right before dark. I wonder, for every whale I actually see how many dozens do I miss? And at night how many close calls are there really?

Cruise ship out on the horizon all lit up like Christmas. I wonder if I put out a Mayday if he would come pick me up? I hate myself for even thinking it, but man would it be nice right now to be warm, fed, and half-drunk onboard that monstrosity.

26-June-2011 our life. daily. baja coast, mexico.
01:00 Wind completely gone again leaving me with rather rolly seas, but still making excellent time south. Just watched as the first ship of the trip passed by headed north. I’m glad I didn’t waste money on AIS at this point. It’s just such a rare occasion that we spot a ship and can’t determine it’s heading by simply watching it for a minute. Will maybe reconsider once we’re ready to leave Mexican waters again, but if it was just me I still wouldn’t bother.

07:00 Around four o’clock last night my speed dropped off about a knot and a half. I didn’t give too much thought to it, the wind had died away completely and the seas were sort of sloppy, so losing a little speed didn’t seem unusual. Then at first light this morning I caught my first unhappy glimpse of the buoy dragging behind the boat. A big hunk of styrofoam fifty feet behind the boat with still more line trailing off into the distance.

My initial thought was that this was no big deal. This must have happened to us ten times on the last trip. I’d just grab my knife and hop in. But then the reality of being on a big tall monohull all by myself hit me. This is not nearly the same thing as before. On the cat I just knelt down on the swim platform and stuck my head under to have a look while we were still chugging along. Not possible from five feet above the water on this boat. Still, I thought, with the right preparation I should be able to get this done. So I stripped, got a long line tied around my waist, put the swim ladder in with another line tying that onto the boat, shut off the engine, grabbed my knife and mask, and waited. Waited for the boat to stop moving. Two knots we were still laboring away at. Ten knots of wind, small seas, and a small swell all conspired to keep us moving at close to two knots.

Two knots doesn’t sound like much, but it is. I climbed down the swim ladder and then slipped into the water, still holding on to the ladder. Immediately me and the ladder were trailing alongside the boat at what felt like great speed. I could barely even get a look at the rudder. All I could see was a big steel leader line wrapped around it, another small styrofoam buoy tucked in against it, and a fish head as big as mine trailing a few feet back. Not cool. By the time I scrambled back aboard I had a cut on my hand and a nice gash on my knee. And I hadn’t even let go of the boat. This is an all together different ball game than the catamaran. And being alone doesn’t help matters one bit. At least with Ali I could let go of the boat and know that if I were separated she would come get me. Now if I get separated I’m dead. Two very different outcomes to the same situation.

In the end I dragged the line up on the boat, cut off the big buoy, and then tied off the remaining line to a cleat. This keeps the stuff still in the water from getting wrapped up in the prop, and eliminates the bulk of what was dragging us down. The speed I’m making now makes it seem as if nothing is down there. And as long as nothing is in the prop I should be okay.

One other thing. I’m two-thirds of the way down the Baja Peninsula and the water temperature still took my breath away.

17:00 Had a nice run today. Same conditions as always, light following winds, following seas, and not much swell to speak of. The blue skies and sun have been out in force the past few days and now that I’ve browned up a bit I can enjoy it more than when I first set out. We’ve got no canvas outside so there is no hiding from the rays out there but when I need a break the pilothouse is there, and stays surprisingly cool considering the sun above and the engine under the floor.

As I write this the wind picked up to 15 knots and I was able to shut down the engine, giving me quiet for a change, but also the worst motion of the trip. The quartering seas roll me around quite a bit without the extra thrust of the engine to keep me facing straight as those seas pick the boat up and try to turn it just that little bit.

Overall though I’m finding the motion of the monohull to not be nearly as awful as I expected. You just sort of get in the groove and go with it after a while. Losing the mainsail was a bummer not because of the sailing performance but because of just how much it helped to keep the boat heeled ever so slightly over and stop the rolling motion. The key to the monohull really seems to be in getting the boat to heel, not in trying to keep it from heeling. When it is heeled it is at it’s most comfortable because it isn’t flopping from one side to the other. So while obviously the catamaran still wins in the sailing comfort category it isn’t nearly as large a blowout as I expected it to be.

27-June-2011 our life. daily. baja coast, mexico.
07:00 Another perfect night of sailing. Ten knots of wind, nearly flat seas, not another boat in sight all night long, and lots and lots of sleep for me. The only hiccup is that my running lights zapped out on me. They started dimming on and off and then suddenly everything in the house started to dim. I shut them off immediately thinking that the wire must be shorting out somewhere. I searched but couldn’t find the problem, but gave up rather quickly since it was ten o’clock and I was ready for some sleep. I flipped on the spreader lights and continued on through the night with the boat all lit up that way instead. Today I’ll have a better look and see if I can’t track the problem down.

Currently twenty miles out of Cabo. I’m going to stop, take on a little diesel, hop in the water to untangle that fish head from my prop, check e-mail, and be on my way again.

09:00 This last couple of hours is painful. Even though I’m only staying an hour I am going crazy with the anticipation of it.

16:00 This is going to sound like a joke. It’s not. Ten minutes after that last update I was in the bathroom shaving. Getting cleaned up for the big landfall and all that. Shaving away and I suddenly here a click clunk. I knew something bad had happened, though the engine still sounded perfect.

I opened up the compartment and was looking around, everything looked okay, but then I noticed the boat slowing down and the motion getting rockier. I looked further back at the transmission and there it is. The shaft coupling snapped. The prop shaft was no longer attached to the engine, and couldn’t be.

So there I am, fifteen miles from Cabo with twelve knots of wind at my back and nothing left to propel the boat but the Yankee. There actually is a jib, but it’s so worn out that just the yankee sheets rubbing against it for five minutes wear holes in it. Anyway.

There really isn’t anything to be done about it, just sail on in to Cabo and see what shakes out. The wind picked up to twenty knots which was nice and I flew along the coast just a half mile off. The wind was coming off the land which was also nice, as I wasn’t exactly on a lee shore that way.

I cruised along enjoying the scenery, it really is a beautiful place to sail up to. Once you arrive it’s a different story, but that coastline is magnificent. And then right at the end of the cape are the rocks. The famous Arch that anybody who has ever been to Cabo has seen. I sailed right past that and all the tourists, cruised around the corner, up into the wind, doused the sail, and waved at the first sportfisherman to go by. He came right over, I mimed that I had no prop, he said to throw him a line, and he towed me right up to the beach. His American customers got a kick out of the whole thing. As we approached the beach he motioned for me to drop the anchor, and as I did he threw off the line and left. That was it. He didn’t ask for anything and I didn’t even get a chance to give him a proper thanks. Really nice.

I got anchored and dove down on the prop to see what was happening under there. My initial thought had been that that fishing line had gotten tangled up and somehow snapped the shaft loose. But when I got down there I found it just like I had left it. And the line that I thought was steel was in fact just a thick fishing line. The fish head was still attached. So I was happy to know that my failing to get that off hadn’t caused the problem. The prop and shaft had slid straight back into the rudder, but everything looked just fine. I grabbed the prop and was able to shove it forward a few inches, so it didn’t look like there was any damage underneath.

With that done my next job was to get out of the anchorage and into the marina. I flagged down a water taxi and had him bring me in. The marina folks were very nice, and fortunately the off-season rates were less than half of normal. Normal being over $170 a night! I figured they’d have a big dinghy that could come out and tow me in, but they didn’t, so I hired two water taxis to do the job instead. They each had 75hp engines and we tied one up on each side, raised the anchor and slowly came inside. Smooth as butter I was tied up.

Back at the marina to check-in where they called Octavio the transmission guy. He told me he’d be out in two hours. So I grabbed a quick bite to eat and headed back to the boat. He was already waiting for me. This has all happened, from sailing around that rock to meeting him at the boat, in two hours! Crazy. So at least all this stuff is going well.

He gets in the engine compartment and pulls the first piece out. The piece looks slightly different, but it is essentially the same piece that we had to replace twice on our catamarans starboard engine. It is this big metal casing with a thick rubber dampener inside it that holds the shaft and keeps it from vibrating when you put the transmission in and out of gear. Well the rubber had completely disappeared. When that happens the bolts start to take all the load and boom, the two pieces coupled together suddenly snap apart.

Crazy thing about that is I never felt any vibration or heard any weird noises. It just went, all at once.

Anyway, the first big piece comes right off. Then there is another piece on the shaft. That piece has two thick bolts pinning it onto the shaft itself. You could see that those two bolts were off kilter. They’d bent. When he tried to remove them they quickly snapped in half. Bummer.

So there were two options. One, try and drill the bolts out, weld the two pieces together and bolt it back on. Or two, use a different coupler that he is sure will work and that he uses on “all these boats.” For this one to go on we don’t need to save the old piece and will just use a big old saw to cut the broken piece off the shaft. This will take some delicacy but he is sure he can do it, and doesn’t seem fazed by the prospect. I like the guy and trust him. Worst case, this doesn’t work, I have to order the new parts from the States, I fly to PV and wait for them, then fly back here, install them, and take off. At least I hope that is the worst case scenario.

Best case, he shows up in the morning, cuts the old piece off, fits the new coupler, it works perfectly, and I motor out of here by the afternoon. We actually drove to the store to pick up the new piece but despite the stores hours posted on the door, they were closed.

What a week. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was when this happened. I wasn’t even nervous about the prospect of sailing in with just the one sail or getting into the marina with no engine. I was just disappointed that I knew I was going to be delayed from seeing my girls again.

To top it all off I get here and find out that Ali’s dad had gotten in a motorcycle accident and her mom had left her two days early. He’s banged up pretty bad, but he’s a tough guy and will be all right. It’s just amazing all the family drama going on.

Now on to the good news. Ouest was sick the first day they got there, but they think it was the heat, and she is doing great now. And Ali went to the baby doctor today and everything is looking good. The baby is growing and strong. Ali’s placenta has moved up a bit, making it just about the same as her last pregnancy. So her placenta previa is not worse than last time like we had thought it was. Anyway, her and the babies are all doing fine, but are just as anxious as I am to be together.

28-June-2011 our life. daily. cabo san lucas, mexico.
09:30 Okay so Octavio just arrived with a friend to confirm that what he was thinking of doing would work. His friend readily agreed that it would. They are going to cut the big thick hunk of metal casing off of the shaft and replace it with a different one piece coupler.

His last question to me before running off to get the tools was, “Uhh, you have, uhh, fire extinguishers?” Extinguishers. That’s plural. “Si, tengo.” I answered, resigned to the fact that my boat is going to go up in a spectacular ball of flames.

Notice there aren’t a lot of masts to be seen here. The nice thing is that there is a large sport fishing fleet that needs to be kept up and running and there are more than enough marine supply stores around to handle it. The stores here are nothing like West Marine either. They are so much better. Instead of only stocking shiny nonsense they stock the things that are actually required to keep a boat running. Novel concept.

16:00 A while ago I bought one of those water accumulator tanks. Today I finally installed it and wow, why didn’t I know about these things years ago? No more water pump, pump, pump, pumping away, no more weak water spitting out of the faucet, just pure powerful smooth flowing water. What a wonder to behold, and all for about seventy bucks. Ali is going to be well and pleased with this little addition.

So this morning we got that big old piece of metal cut off of the prop shaft. Lots of sparks, but no drama. It was over in just a few minutes. With that done we drove off to the chandlery to check out the replacement couplers. We bought one that we had hoped would work, but after bringing it back to the boat we found that it was just a little too small. The bolt holes couldn’t be made to line up without some extracurricular drilling that seemed a bit iffy.

Back to the stores we went. This time we found one that the mounting holes lined up perfectly with the transmission. Unfortunately it was for a weird cone shaped prop shaft of a different diameter. But hey, we’re in Mexico, parts compatibility is just a theory down here.

Off to the machine shop. After some discussion there was universal consensus that it wouldn’t be a problem to drill out the right prop shaft diameter, lop off an inch from the end of the new piece, cut out a rectangular key to lock the shaft in place, and drill and tap two mounting bolt holes. Sure, why not?

Granted in the States I could have just had factory replacement parts overnight, but I kind of like experiencing the challenge, and the ingenuity of the Mexicans, over making a simple phone call back home.

My man Octavio will be here tonight at six with the part in hand, we’ll pop it on, and with just a teensy bit of luck I could be on my way before dark. Okay, a lot of luck.

20:00 Success! It is truly amazing what they can accomplish here in Mexico by using what is available. We essentially fabricated our own transmission coupler in one day. Awesome.

This coupler was longer than the old one so I had to go in the water and yank the shaft back a couple more inches. To get it on we had to turn the rudder just so and twist the prop just so until everything was completely maxed out. We didn’t have an eighth of an inch left when we slid that thing on to the shaft. Once it was on I then had to dive underwater and use a big hammer to pound the shaft all the way forward again. It took a good hour, but once it was in position there was nothing left but to tighten a few bolts. It’s really a pretty basic concept in design and the way it is now I can’t imagine this ever causing us a problem again.

Now that I look at this picture I think maybe bolts a half inch longer might be a good idea.

When it was finished we took the boat for a quick spin around the marina, found both gas docks closed, and came back to the dock.

So at six in the morning I’ll get the diesel I need and be back on my way. All in all about a thirty-six hour delay, and ten of that is because of the fuel dock. Not too shabby for a busted transmission coupler. I wanted to grab my buddy Octavio and give him a big man hug, but I think he sensed it was coming and kept his distance. Seriously though this guy went out of his way for me simply because he knew how important it was to me to get to my family. I’m really thankful right now. And can’t wait to get underway.

21:00 I don’t talk a whole lot about my trading but Ali just asked me how much this whole thing cost and it sort of ties in. All told, including hiring water taxis to tow me in, parts, mechanics, marina bills, this will have cost over seven hundred dollars. So this morning while I was waiting for the guys to show up I was watching the stock market. A stock I like had been getting knocked around a bit lately so I placed a lowball bid right before the open to buy some call options. The order got filled somehow, and the stock immediately went up, along with the rest of the market today. Within fifteen minutes my sell order got hit, and the market backed off a little bit. In those fifteen minutes I’d bought the low of the day, sold the high of the day, and made enough to pay for this whole debacle.

Some would say luck, but I prefer the saying about luck being when preparation meets opportunity. In this case I just happened to have a wifi connection while waiting for somebody to show up. Instead of reading blogs I made a trade. Now the funny thing is that if I hadn’t broken down I’d have been at sea and wouldn’t have made the trade. So financially we are no better or worse off than we would have been had none of this happened. Weird the way the world works sometimes.

29-June-2011 our life. daily. en route to puerto vallarta, mexico.
07:00 I’m back on my way and can’t even begin to express how excited I am. I weathered what was easily the most difficult portion of the trip this morning, the fifty meter motor from my dock to the fuel dock. The dock opened at six so I was up at five-thirty ready to go. At quarter to six sport fishing boats began filing in by the dozens, jockeying for position on the now opening docks. Controlled mayhem to them, boating madness to me. I eventually got one of the attendants attention and he kept a space cleared for me so I could drop my lines, put the engine in gear for five seconds, and float with the breeze straight across to the dock. Smooth.

One of the things I noticed while under the boat the past few days is that there isn’t a speck of growth on the hull. Nothing. This boat hasn’t been hauled out and painted in at least twelve years and the bottom looks like it was painted yesterday. Granted it sat in fresh water for many years, and now it has been cruising in cold Pacific waters, but still nice to know I’m not being dragged down by a large garden growing under the waterline.

Anyway, it’s an absolutely beautiful morning and now that I’m a few miles off the cape the water is mellowing out a bit too. Should have an easy motorsail with nothing but light following winds predicted all the way to Puerto Vallarta.

09:00 Wind. Fifteen knots of it actually showed up and I’m sailing again. I could sail all the way around the world again with conditions like this. Quartering seas, not too big, but enough to give a little boost, and just enough wind to keep me moving over five knots with a few degrees of heel to keep the whole big tub from rolling around. Fantastic.

11:00 I have to say that after sailing the coast of Baja I really don’t understand why anybody would want to sail it in a group like the Baja Ha-Ha unless they were just looking for a group to party with. That was by far some of the easiest sailing I’ve ever done. I use the word sailing loosely as if I hadn’t been in such a hurry I would have done four to five knots with no problem. As it was I was looking to keep my speed upwards of six knots and get down here as quickly as I could. But that’s beside the point. The point is that this coast almost always sees perfect conditions like these if you just watch and wait a little bit. So I can’t understand the reasoning of wanting to set off in a big group on a set date regardless of weather conditions and forecasts. I guess no matter what I’ll just never understand the group travel mindset or the reasoning behind it.

19:00 In twelve hours I’ve banged out eighty miles. A very good day. I’ve also found that all the issues that I was having with the engine have disappeared. Now that I hear and feel the engine running properly it is obvious that before there was excessive vibration. I didn’t notice it before as not being normal because that is how it had always sounded and vibrated since the day I’d first gotten it started. But now, with the new coupling I can’t believe how smooth the engine runs. There is no vibration whatsoever on the boat. It sounds better and feels better.

It was much hotter today. I’m sweaty, tired, and ready for bed. In fact I can’t wait for the sun to go down so I can go to sleep. I sleep like the dead in these calm conditions with the engine purring away. I’ll set the alarm clock for thirty minutes, sleep walk up to the companionway, have a close look at the horizon, and be back to sleep inside of two minutes. Haven’t seen a boat all day and have only seen one ship on the entire journey south.

30-June-2011 our life. daily. en route to puerto vallarta, mexico.
07:00 Nights out here have been beautiful. The wind always seems to go right to ten knots and stay there, the seas flatten out almost completely, the sky lights up with a million stars, the air cools off to perfect sleeping temp, and there isn’t another soul on the water. If I didn’t force myself to wake up and look around outside I think I could sleep twelve hours continuous.

One hundred and forty miles to go now which should put me in at first light tomorrow. I am so excited I can hardly contain myself. I just want to squeeze my little girl forever.

13:00 It’s a scorcher today. Amazing how the weather changed between the Baja coast and making that turn into Cabo. It was like an instant twenty degree heat up. This boat needs some shade.

14:00 I was just having a look over the engine and discovered that one of the injector lines is spitting out an almost imperceptible mist. I tried to tighten it but it didn’t move. Beyond that, and with only a hundred miles to go, I’m not messing with it. Unless it suddenly gets worse. It’s the line furthest to the back of the engine, where the mechanics had to squat to do all the work on the transmission. I imagine the line got bent just a little bit and is what is causing it.

I really can’t stop watching the clock today. I am so ready to dock this boat and get off of it for a few days.

15:00 Ninety-nine miles to go. Ninety degrees inside the boat.

21:00 Motorsailed all day long in really light winds. Now as the sun disappeared the wind dropped all the way to three knots. Seems to be the norm at night out here. Can’t wait to wake up in the morning with only twenty miles to go.