Thursday, March 4, 2010
Knee deep in the Pliocene
Wow, where to start? Peter just departed in the back of a pick-up truck bound for the Loreto airport. We are docked at Puerto Escondido, the best hurricane hole in the Sea of Cortez. Thankfully, it's not fixing to blow a hurricane. There is a gringo yacht club here called "Hidden Port Yacht Club." Apparently, we can join and then flash our cards at places like the 'Real Club Nautico de Barcelona' or the 'Yacht Club de Monaco' and get reciprocal privileges. Might be worth considering.
We had a fantastic week with Peter aboard. Having Pete along made light work for us. He toted all the barges and lifted all the bales. Unloaded the boat and loaded it up again. Washed dishes. Pulled the boat out at night and swam out first thing in the morning to pull the boat back in. Rowed when we needed rowing. Sailed when we needed sailing. And taught us a lot about sail trim and balancing the load. We will miss him, not just because he was a hard worker but for all the talk and companionship. I told him yesterday he seemed to get younger every day with us. He got more and more like a kid as he got farther and farther from work and the demands of life back home. He'll be back down here March 20th with his son Ben and one or two of Ben's friends.
Tim picked up Peter at the Loreto airport a week ago. Tim ran the last errands, filling the propane tank and the water jugs, buying fresh food and cold beer. Then a friend we made, Norm, drove our shuttle for us, dropping Peter and Tim off at San Bruno, where Tim and I had been sitting out a big blow from the north. We organized food and gear and set off from San Bruno the next morning bound for Isla Coronados, about 9 miles away. It had been blowing for days out of the north, perfect for cruising down to Coronados, but by the time we left San Bruno it started blowing from the south. So we beat upwind all day to Coronados. We found a magnificent camp reminiscent of the Caribbean on the southwest side of the island--an idyllic little cove with a white sand beach and aquamarine water. The cove faced south, making it iffy for a blow from the south, and sure enough the wind picked up in the middle of the night and Peter and Tim had to move the boat to a more protected part of the cove. Fortunately, they had a full moon to work by as it would have been hard to row around the rocks and set the anchor again using headlamps. From the warmth of my sleeping bag, I could see their two full moons moving around the boat. I was praying I didn't have to get out and help.
The next day, we set out for Isla Carmen, about 13 miles away, including crossing a wide channel between the islands. We first had to clear a long sand spit on the SW side of Coronados. As the wind was pretty slack, Peter rowed. The water shoaled as we approached the tip of the sand spit. In the distance I could see, through the binoculars, a stripe of rough water from the spit all the way to the channel over to the west. As we got closer, we realized it was a tide rip. As we approached, the current picked up, pulling us toward the rip. As we got into the rip, all of a sudden the current was against us and we started surfing like crazy to the west. Where the two tidal currents, one from each side of Coronados, came together, they collided and water was forced to go sideways. It was surreal, seeing rocks in the sandy bottom flash by. We cranked up the motor and pushed through to the other side of the rip. We motored along for a while along the south shore of Coronados, hoping for wind to help us across the channel between the islands. Slowly, the wind picked up and we started across. By the time we got to Isla Carmen, it was really blowing a stiff breeze and we were flying along at 5 knots with waves splashing over the bow. We could really see how kayaks get in trouble doing that crossing. You start out in calm conditions and the wind blows up and builds big waves and it's a toss-up whether it's better to go forward or back.
We sailed along the north shore of Carmen, at this point a lee shore with the wind out of the north, looking for a campsite that I had read about in the kayak guide. We couldn't believe we were going to find anyplace where we could land and unload. The whole coast was nothing but cliffs and crashing surf. We keyed into what looked like the spot, based on the satellite imagery in the kayak guide and the GPS locations. And finally a narrow little slot opened up with a white beach at the back. The entry looked dicey, and Peter later told us he was highly dubious about going in there, but Tim and I were all for doing it. After all, there weren't many options, and we had made some difficult approaches before. We got in there fine on the jib and mizzen and finally oars. Dropped the hook and rowed to shore. There was quite a surge on the beach, causing the boat to rise and fall rather dramatically. We worried about getting dropped on a rock but it never happened. The beach was phenomenal, a strip of white sand backed by a huge dune in the middle of a small canyon. The waves rolled up the beach and made loud reports as they came up under ledges lining the cove. Peter swam out early the next day to get the boat back in and loaded before we missed the rising tide that would help us get around our next point, Punta Lobos. The exit from our protected cove was hair-raising. The long narrow shape of the cove causes the incoming swell to reflect off the walls, creating a confused sea. We bounced and yawed our way out, under power, until the waves got more or less predictable, and then set sail for the point.
More later. I need to set up some electronics for recharging while Tim hikes up the road to the Modelorama store for fruit and vegetables. OK, now I am sitting in the yacht club with electronics plugged into all the available outlets. We are having issues with our camera. No photos for the last week. I finally figured out how I can download photos to my laptop without using the camera itself, which is big. I still can't figure out why the camera batteries won't charge. We may have a large gap in our photo coverage while we wait for Peter to bring a camera down to us on March 20. Next, a couple photos from along the way.
We have had some incredible camps on this trip. The top so far was Arroyo Blanco on Isla Carmen. Another slot in a cliff that only revealed itself at the last second as we approached. The walls of the slot were white. They are Pliocene marine beds deposited in an extensional basin about 3 million years ago, very like El Refugio on the north end of Carmen. We hiked along white ledges with waves lapping below in later afternoon light, marveling at the fossil scallop shells that made up a significant fraction of the rock. It was like wading in knee-deep water in Pliocene time. I remembered a calculation from Markes Johnson's book in which he figured that in there must have been a billion oysters in a deposit on another island. I figure that we were marching across a billion scallops. We could have made a fortune on Pliocene scallops!
We had a fantastic week with Peter aboard. Having Pete along made light work for us. He toted all the barges and lifted all the bales. Unloaded the boat and loaded it up again. Washed dishes. Pulled the boat out at night and swam out first thing in the morning to pull the boat back in. Rowed when we needed rowing. Sailed when we needed sailing. And taught us a lot about sail trim and balancing the load. We will miss him, not just because he was a hard worker but for all the talk and companionship. I told him yesterday he seemed to get younger every day with us. He got more and more like a kid as he got farther and farther from work and the demands of life back home. He'll be back down here March 20th with his son Ben and one or two of Ben's friends.
Tim picked up Peter at the Loreto airport a week ago. Tim ran the last errands, filling the propane tank and the water jugs, buying fresh food and cold beer. Then a friend we made, Norm, drove our shuttle for us, dropping Peter and Tim off at San Bruno, where Tim and I had been sitting out a big blow from the north. We organized food and gear and set off from San Bruno the next morning bound for Isla Coronados, about 9 miles away. It had been blowing for days out of the north, perfect for cruising down to Coronados, but by the time we left San Bruno it started blowing from the south. So we beat upwind all day to Coronados. We found a magnificent camp reminiscent of the Caribbean on the southwest side of the island--an idyllic little cove with a white sand beach and aquamarine water. The cove faced south, making it iffy for a blow from the south, and sure enough the wind picked up in the middle of the night and Peter and Tim had to move the boat to a more protected part of the cove. Fortunately, they had a full moon to work by as it would have been hard to row around the rocks and set the anchor again using headlamps. From the warmth of my sleeping bag, I could see their two full moons moving around the boat. I was praying I didn't have to get out and help.
The next day, we set out for Isla Carmen, about 13 miles away, including crossing a wide channel between the islands. We first had to clear a long sand spit on the SW side of Coronados. As the wind was pretty slack, Peter rowed. The water shoaled as we approached the tip of the sand spit. In the distance I could see, through the binoculars, a stripe of rough water from the spit all the way to the channel over to the west. As we got closer, we realized it was a tide rip. As we approached, the current picked up, pulling us toward the rip. As we got into the rip, all of a sudden the current was against us and we started surfing like crazy to the west. Where the two tidal currents, one from each side of Coronados, came together, they collided and water was forced to go sideways. It was surreal, seeing rocks in the sandy bottom flash by. We cranked up the motor and pushed through to the other side of the rip. We motored along for a while along the south shore of Coronados, hoping for wind to help us across the channel between the islands. Slowly, the wind picked up and we started across. By the time we got to Isla Carmen, it was really blowing a stiff breeze and we were flying along at 5 knots with waves splashing over the bow. We could really see how kayaks get in trouble doing that crossing. You start out in calm conditions and the wind blows up and builds big waves and it's a toss-up whether it's better to go forward or back.
We sailed along the north shore of Carmen, at this point a lee shore with the wind out of the north, looking for a campsite that I had read about in the kayak guide. We couldn't believe we were going to find anyplace where we could land and unload. The whole coast was nothing but cliffs and crashing surf. We keyed into what looked like the spot, based on the satellite imagery in the kayak guide and the GPS locations. And finally a narrow little slot opened up with a white beach at the back. The entry looked dicey, and Peter later told us he was highly dubious about going in there, but Tim and I were all for doing it. After all, there weren't many options, and we had made some difficult approaches before. We got in there fine on the jib and mizzen and finally oars. Dropped the hook and rowed to shore. There was quite a surge on the beach, causing the boat to rise and fall rather dramatically. We worried about getting dropped on a rock but it never happened. The beach was phenomenal, a strip of white sand backed by a huge dune in the middle of a small canyon. The waves rolled up the beach and made loud reports as they came up under ledges lining the cove. Peter swam out early the next day to get the boat back in and loaded before we missed the rising tide that would help us get around our next point, Punta Lobos. The exit from our protected cove was hair-raising. The long narrow shape of the cove causes the incoming swell to reflect off the walls, creating a confused sea. We bounced and yawed our way out, under power, until the waves got more or less predictable, and then set sail for the point.
More later. I need to set up some electronics for recharging while Tim hikes up the road to the Modelorama store for fruit and vegetables. OK, now I am sitting in the yacht club with electronics plugged into all the available outlets. We are having issues with our camera. No photos for the last week. I finally figured out how I can download photos to my laptop without using the camera itself, which is big. I still can't figure out why the camera batteries won't charge. We may have a large gap in our photo coverage while we wait for Peter to bring a camera down to us on March 20. Next, a couple photos from along the way.
We have had some incredible camps on this trip. The top so far was Arroyo Blanco on Isla Carmen. Another slot in a cliff that only revealed itself at the last second as we approached. The walls of the slot were white. They are Pliocene marine beds deposited in an extensional basin about 3 million years ago, very like El Refugio on the north end of Carmen. We hiked along white ledges with waves lapping below in later afternoon light, marveling at the fossil scallop shells that made up a significant fraction of the rock. It was like wading in knee-deep water in Pliocene time. I remembered a calculation from Markes Johnson's book in which he figured that in there must have been a billion oysters in a deposit on another island. I figure that we were marching across a billion scallops. We could have made a fortune on Pliocene scallops!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)