The ocean that rocks the cradle.

Well, we didn’t make it in time for our dinner for 2 in La Peska after all. Instead of succulent seafood, we had Fish in a Bucket à la O2. I thought the dessert -freshly baked pancakes neatly rolled into a burrito and sprinkled with rum, lime and brown cane sugar – a worthier dish for the occasion. 

The wild, wild Pacific caused some delay. We agreed that the channel in and out of Marina Ixtapa first needed to calm down a bit before we could continue on our journey up North. The entire Ixtapa coast was one long stretch of tumbling foam. The few tourists who ventured knee-deep into the water were immediately stopped in their tracks by the loud urgent whistles of the lifeguards. And as the reckless daredevils were reluctantly stumbling out again, they received a serious lecture about the treacherous ocean, riptides and death by drowning. One wonders how the sea turtles manage to get their eggs on shore.

When the red flag was finally lowered, we were warned to time our exit well. And that’s how we got out the way we got in: with a splash. 

On our way up North, the wind was fickle while the swell was constant. Close to the coast, waves kept thundering in and crashed with deafening booms onto the beach. This turned the anchorages into rather noisy roller coasters and our bed into a rocky cradle. 

As we were making way, our different weather programs started to warn us about a serious depression which was developing on our route: “onda tropical número 22” . This – combined with the leftovers of Hurricane Grace which had made landfall in Yucatan and then in Veracruz on the Atlantic side and whose weakened claws were reaching overland all the way to the Pacific side – would bring along high wind speeds, torrential rain and over the top ocean swell. Hurricane Grace was now called Tropical Storm Marty.

Luckily for us, Marina Puerto Barra de Navidad was the perfect shelter from the storm. It is part of a fancy resort with a great swimming pool, it lies well protected in a beautiful lagoon and there’s a miles long walk along the beach from Barra to Melaque. Pure heaven, were it not for the heat and the blistering sun.

The villagers of Barra have put their faith in “El Cristo del Ciclón“, aka “El Cristo de los Brazos Caidos“. We couldn’t have docked O2 any place safer. Legend has it that on September 1st of 1971, while the whole village was praying in the chapel for the stormy winds to calm down, Jesus on the Cross suddenly lowered his arms with a loud crack and all went quiet outside. When hurricane Patricia visited this part of the Pacific coast in 2015, it was again Jesus With The Lowered Arms who kept the village safe from bodily harm. So, where else could we be better off when a storm is building.

The village of Barra de Navidad itself had a lot of “couleur locale”. To our Western eyes, it couldn’t be more Mexican. And in spite of Covid 19, everything was “muy tranquilo”.

From Barra de Navidad, we continued up North on day hops. Muy despacito. On the way, My Captain kept his fishing line out, but the tuna didn’t bite. We are also still trying to find out the name of the river that flowed into the Pacific with an estuary not unlike the Amazon. From a distance we even mistook it for a beach which was not supposed to be there, according to our charts. It suddenly appeared on the horizon as a brown line that stretched for miles and when we approached debris and even whole trees started floating our way.

And now we have reached the Bay of Banderas, Puerto Vallarta. We are safely docked in our hurricane hole until the end of October in the Marina of La Cruz de Huanacaxtle. But first, O2’s treasure chest needs some replenishing. So in between the excursions on land, My Captain will put on his architect’s cap, turn the AC up ( the heat ! the humidity !) and get his boat office running. And I will finally book that table at La Peska.

Although we are looking forward to our many projects on land, we are already missing the ocean.