Oleaje!

We have just surfed into the Marina of Ixtapa. Yihaaa! And My Captain was very relieved once we were in but he is still looking a whiter shade of pale now. They closed the harbor by raising the red flag the moment we made it. A pair of flip-flops, crocs and hiking boots as well as a pail all got washed overboard. But all was retrieved by a friendly Mexican in his panga. Our spectacular entrance didn’t go unnoticed. Ixtapa is a touristy place and a guy on his balcony shouted out his respect for My Captain’s steering skills with a big grin and both thumbs up. We also agreed that it was not to be repeated. 

Marina Ixtapa is our first harbor after we left Huatulco 6 days ago. On the way we admired cinematographic coves (also the one featured in “Y tu mama también”) but we zoomed past Acapulco which appeared in the moonless night like a shock of light. 

After some deliberation, we had agreed that the famous cliff divers were not seductive enough to lure us in. So instead of checking out the past glories of a now notorious big city we carried on thru our second lone night.

Thanks to our radar and My Captain’s navigating skills, we were able to dodge all major “chubascos”. This doesn’t mean that we weren’t drenched to the bone when – once again – we had procrastinated to put our Jurassic Butterfly back in its cocoon after a glorious 8 hour stretch of pure downwind sailing.

During the day we were called twice over the VHF to please mind the fishing gear bobbing on long lines in front of us : “Al Capitan del barco veleiro, tenga cuidado dos buoys por favor.” We certainly did. 

During the night, the sky lit up with continuous lightning, but lucky for us the accompanying thunder rolls were always more than 5 “mississippies” away. And to be on the safe side, all of our electronics were stowed away in our cage of Faraday, aka the oven.

It was also the first time that the bioluminescence was so bright that at first we mistook the flashes of green for the torches of alarmed fishermen signaling us in the night not to run them aground. But it was just the dolphins, torpedoing towards O2 like so many green sabers of light.

Also, the fact that hurricane season is in full force in the Northeastern Pacific, cannot be ignored. A storm named Kevin was number eleven so far. Fortunately, the majority form above open water miles away from the coast and that’s where they also die out. But before they die, they sometimes cause floods and storm driven surf, “oleaje “.

Storm systems whirl counterclockwise in the northern hemisphere. Which means that the northerly wind which usually blows suddenly loses its power. Which means we sometimes can sail up north on the very outer wingtips of a storm that’s raging far off in the Pacific. “ Oleaje” permitting, of course.

In another week we will hopefully have reached La Cruz de Huanacaxtle, our hurricane hole until the end of October. We are already getting into a festive mood. It was the year 1991 of August 16th that My Captain and I officially stepped aboard together. Which means that 360 full moons later our boat is still afloat and the the occasional mutinies have been successfully defused. It has been quite the voyage. 

A table for two at La Peska is what we have in mind and expectations are high. We will let you know whether Tripadvisor had got it right.