This is the summary of a long and sometimes grueling and sometimes beautiful drama of motorless sailing from Manzanillo to Ixtapa.
The engine quit at sunset (two days ago?). None of the slow down/speed sup/slow down dying associated with filters in my past experience. It went from running normally to dead in one second.
I acted as if I weren’t concerned, and I just simply sailed through the night until the wind gave out entirely. And then I bobbed like a cork — quite alone in the world. It isn’t the solitude as much as the vulnerability of having no control over weather, winds, direction of travel or ability to get out of someone’s way (like a freighter) that grabs you.
Nothing, anywhere, except the separation sea and sky
With the advantages of morning light and flat seas I pulled the floors, inspected every engine connection, and finding nothing wrong I then changed the primary fuel filter. Still I couldn’t get the engine to speak to me (no start). Next I changed both secondary (on the engine)fuel filters. And again, no start. I tried for hours to clear air from the line — with no better results. So I just kept on sailing with a goal to get to Ixtapa where the resources to fix it might be.
I arrived at Ixtapa Bay after dark last night — but judged it not a good idea (partly because the winds were flukey and then died) to stay in the bay or attempt another bay anchorage nearby. Larry and Lynn Pardy came to mind and their years of sailing into harbors without a motor. It’s different!
Favoring prudence, I sailed about 5 miles off shore all night (and hove to for several hours and grabbed some sleep).
The Mexican Gold Coast runs 315 NM Southeast from Cabo Corrientes on the north, marking the south end of Banderas Bay, to Ixtapa and Zihuatanejo Bay. It would be another 112 nm south along a rugged coast to Acapulco with only a couple of unexciting intermediate stops (to be missed). We are fully content to explore the entire Gold Coast, but Acapulco is further can we choose to reach on this trip, considering we wish to return to Seattle by Memorial Day 2016. Major intermediate stops along the coast include Bahia Tennacatita (not to be missed), and nearby Barra de Navidad and Manzanillo. Further south is Lizardo Bay (definitely to be avoided) as the Guide Book delicately puts it: “don’t count on help from highway 200; this stretch is notorious for banditos.” Caleta de Cammpos is reputed to be friendlier and then the reward of Isla Ixtapa, Ixtapa bay and Zihuatenejo bay bunched together.
Manzanillo Wednesday February 17
It was a delightfully uneventful sail and motor-sail from Teninsnicatita, passing Barra de Navidad and sailing or motor-sailing on to Manzanillo. The goal was Las Hadas marina, a small Med-mooring yacht basis and fuel dock, bounded by The Fairies Spires, a grand hotel of the sixties comparable to the one in Navidad.
With one major difference: “a small Med-mooring yacht basin”. After taking on 400 liters of diesel fuel at the fuel dock, and getting all the information I could about their Med-mooring procedures, I departed with Victor on board for guidance. Raven’s Dance has a severe case of “prop wash”. For those who haven’t experienced it, the short version is she backs under control to starboard (having a left-hand engine) but has her own obstreperous opinion about just how proper backing to port is. In summary backing RD has its challenges.
We accomplished it, more by me following Victor’s instructions than by leading. You might say this was the first time I’ve ever had a port captain on board, or given up control of RD to him (who I’ve known for 10 minutes). I think I trusted him because he spoke English, and also seemed experienced, and reassuring.
Like most things in life, the fear (fear of what?) was not realized, and we didn’t die and the worst-case scenario was not realized. We had willing dock help to control our stern lines, and I’d give us a B for our first effort — good enough to not have a more dramatic story. But no doubt, Med-mooring is the most complex of the various docking maneuvers, and it’s easy to botch it and incur insulting joy of the on-lookers, who are ever-present!
Two days of living hell break the spell of paradise. The sun has set and finally it’s time to rest; and now I can’t sleep. It had been a frightful two days.
This morning I awoke at the same place I put down the anchor in the dark last night – which is always a sailor’s first blessing of the day. I was at a depth of 40 feet offshore the broad open Santiago Beach.
I had once again broken a rule: no going into a foreign port after dark. But the sea gods favored me with a mill pond and reflected light, and that plus skill and luck brought me safely to anchor.
After breakfast I literally held my breath wondering if the engine would start. It did, and I motored around the bend to Las Hadas Marina, picked up 400 liters of diesel fuel, and then did my first Mediterranean Mooring – something I had only read about (wedged between boats with a fore and aft tie with the stern tied to the dock).
It was a bit clumsy, but successful.
And I achieved a goal I had longed for several days – tied safely to a dock with no more anxiety about the safety of RD.
We had been threatened for the past two days. But I’m telling this story backwards in time, so I’ll switch.
Saturday morning Feb 06
I awoke in fine spirits and a plan to sail the 10 miles from Tenacatiti to Barra, where I had made arrangements to take a slip at Barra marina. That would give me a pass to watch the big game at the Barra de Navidad Resort. I departed around 9 am and I was motor-sailing about 1 mile from the anchorage when the engine suddenly quit.
Silence is the one thing you don’t want to hear either when you are flying or motor-sailing… especially so when there is pounding surf and fiberglass-eating rocks to your left and to your right.
Real uncharted rocks
When fuel doesn’t flow in the engine, adrenaline flows in your body.
My first action was to head out to sea. I coaxed RD from a starboard to a port tack – no where near the direction I wanted to travel, but only one thought was paramount – get far away from those fiberglass-eating rocks with pounding surf. Then I set RD on beam reach on auto pilot. Contrary to what you might think, for the sailor the open sea is safe. Only near shore can the devil come up and grab your hull. With RD safe and stable on her own, next I turned my attention to my engine. All attempts failed to get a restart. Now what? I had several options – each one with a risk I’d like to avoid. The most prudent option was to return to the Tenacatita anchorage I had left a half hour ago. But Tenacatita for all its beauty is a remote isolated place without any services. I could retrace my path on the track on the chart-plotter, I knew the anchorage, and the winds would allow me to safely sail there. And so I silently sailed into the anchorage, picked my spot, lowered sails, and set the anchor – all single-handed. It worked exactly as I had rehearsed it, and in fact a neighboring boat complemented me on my seamanship. No matter how dire or complex the circumstances, ego still plays its role. I must confess to some muted pride in pulling that off as routine as parking a car.
I spent the rest of the day deep in the bowels of RD inspecting the fuel system and changing fuel filters – a tedious messy job made more unpleasant by 80 plus degree heat, the smell of diesel fuel, cramped quarters and sweat dripping profusely on to my glasses just at the moment I needed to see plainly. Late in the evening I had the engine running and was cautiously optimistic about her performance. But residual worry kept me from sound sleep.
Sunday Feb 07
The world stops for the Super Bowl, and so I took a respite from my engine problems (see separate blog).
Monday Feb 08
My suspense an anxiety (not about the Game) continued the next morning. The engine started, I up-anchored and motor-sailed for one-half hour out of the harbor between the fiberglass-eating rocky shores, and the engine quit again. It was a nightmarish repeat of the previous attempt.
Now I decided that I needed professional help. So this time I elected to sail the 30 miles to Manzanillo, where services were available. I set a new course and soon the chart-plotter informed me that if I kept up my current speed I would arrive at sunset. But two hours later the wind gave up and left me bouncing like a cork with no propulsion.
Parenthetically I was three miles off shore and in plain sight of the bulk carrier Los Llanitos (see my blog Wreck on the Rocks) that was driven to the rocks by storm wind and waves. It was a vivid reminder that should winds continue to be still and currents running in the wrong direction that I too could suffer the same fate on a clear day.
With nothing else to do but bob aimlessly about I went to work on the engine. After another three hours of sweat and diesel in the bilge (this time add the unpleasantness of a rolling sea) and changing gaskets I got the engine started.
Now the chart-plotter informed me that I would arrive near Manzanillo at abut 10 pm. And there I was again faced with going into a foreign port for the first time after dark. Not a best bet!
And that brings me to this moment of trying to explain the hours of emotional high alert, the sweat and perseverance that it took to get here. I had an adventure I didn’t want; I was not happier than I’ve ever been. But perseverance, and skill and knowledge to outwit the foibles of the Lehman engine and a lurking devil brought me to safe harbor.
So I have the sailor’s version of ‘jet lag.” I guess I’ll just have to wait until sleep catches up with me. Until then I’m comforted with an old saying:
GrandAdventuresAboardRaven'sDance 