Puerto Refugio, Isla Ángel de la Guarda

29º32’10” N 113º33’00” W

After 6 months traveling north up the Sea of Cortez, tonight’s our last night in the Sea. We are in the most remote anchorage we’ve visited yet. No other boats in sight and, with a hundred miles from the coast in every direction, we just have to trust there is civilization out there somewhere.

Tomorrow we will sail the final 120 nautical miles to Puerto Peñasco then put the boat on land during the worst of the hurricane season.

Just in time apparently as weather conditions are deteriorating. Hurricane season here is accompanied by a scary wind phenomenon: the dreaded Chubascos. They aren’t forecasted like other weather, but thankfully we are subscribed to a daily “Chubasco Report” sent to our satellite phone each night from a helpful amateur meteorologist/fellow cruiser. Tonight is June 28th and the reports don’t start until the risk of Chubascos builds on July 1.

The timing of our escape from the Sea isn’t coincidental. We’ve heard stories from fellow cruisers who’ve encountered the Chubascos in the middle of the night. “We got hit by a chubasco one night. Woke up when the wind hit the boat so hard and fast that we thought another boat had rammed into us.” This warning from Dirk & Silvie was motivation enough to avoid the Northern Sea in the late summer.

The Lingo
A chubasco is a convection cell or thunderstorm that develops in the afternoons in the Sierra Madre mountains then moves across the Sea of Cortez in the middle of the night. These cells bring wind gusts up to 60 kts, though 35 kts is average. Click here for some scary pictures and great visuals about this scary wind event.

We sip bedtime tea and download new forecasts. Conditions look good for tomorrow’s sail, but the Cape Index for tonight…well that’s a different story. Per Windy.com: “the CAPE (Convective Available Potential Energy) Index is an indicator of atmospheric instability, which can lead to showers, thunderstorms, and squalls.” Tonight’s Cape Index is sky high - the highest we’ve ever seen.

Apparently we’re not the only ones who’ve taken notice. Andrés Jacobo downloads the primitive emails from the sat phone and our hearts start to beat faster as we read “Chubasco Report for Tonight! Well, folks, looks like the Chubascos are starting early this year.” Groaning, we read the detailed report, a bit relieved he is forecasting all the activity to roll across the Sea south of us.

Out of an abundance of caution, we go outside to check on the anchor and make sure everything is ship-shape. Outside the air feels strange…eerie…like the air feels the evening before tornadoes strike in the Midwest. Some days in Missouri you just know you’re going to spend the night huddled in shelters and listening to tornado sirens wailing. There are no sirens here and we’ll just have to trust we’ve anchored in safe shelter.

We take extra precautions putting away the boat, looking around and asking “what could fall and hit us in the head or cause damage if the Chubascos arrive?”

I manage to fall asleep and am awoken at midnight when Andrés Jacobo climbs out of bed for a drink of water. He stares out the companionway hatch. I watch him, his silhouette illuminated by flashes of lightning.

“What do you see?” I ask groggily.

He keeps his eyes trained on some unseen point.

“Lightning…and it’s coming our way.”

He continues to watch the sky then climbs back in bed beside me.

We lie here stiff as boards as if waiting for the boogeyman. As a kid, you know the boogeyman is lurking in the shadows. But maybe, just maybe, if you lie still enough and try not to breathe, he won’t detect you.

But it’s not the boogeyman stalking us. It’s a force of nature.

Lightning lights up the sky above Ana María yet we are struck by the stillness and the silence. The ominous silence.

Our skin feels balmy, the static electricity seeping into our pores.

And then the silence is broken.

“Wind,” I whisper. Sounds like it is stampeding across the sea. “I can hear it coming.”

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!

The Chubasco is here to take us on a ride and suddenly Ana María is transformed into a Tilt-a-Whirl at a carnival. The wind lays the boat down sideways until the chain and anchor can pull taut.

We get out of bed to turn on the wind instruments, not surprised to see readings of 35 kts. It must have hit us at 40. We brace ourselves in the boat, pleased to see our anchor seems to be holding and everything else is staying in place. We whip out a trusty coping mechanism: We verbalize then rehearse to each other the plan if the anchor starts to drag. “Jump in the cockpit. You do a line check, I’ll turn on the engine, put the transmission in forward to take the strain off the anchor.”

We wait, transported back to childhood as we count the seconds between the lightning strikes and … one Mississippi, two Mississippi…the thunder clap. The lightning is making its way towards Baja and the thunder isn’t far behind.

As the clock ticks past 1 a.m. we watch the gusts slip from 30 kts to 20 kts and finally down to 15. We crawl in bed, thankful to have survived our first encounter with the Chubascos and hopeful we’ll never meet again.

The Challenge
We hauled Ana María out of the water in Puerto Peñasco (aka Arizona's beach) for annual maintenance:  new varnish, new bottom paint, polished hull, fixes for everything that’s broken.  We’ve done this work before, but not in such grueling conditions!  The heat index has been 115º and the UV Index stays stuck on “11.”  11?!?! We didn’t even know it went up to 11!  We adapted by starting the work by 5 a.m. and taking a daily siesta.  The work is done and Ana María is now in great shape for another cruising season.
The Wildlife
Stray dogs here.  Stray dogs there.  Stray dogs everywhere!  Peñasco is full of ‘em.
The Mainsail
My in-laws graciously allowed us to escape the worst of the Mexican summer heat at their home in St. Augustine, Florida.  We reveled in a month of quality time with both families, boogie boarding, walks on the beach, high speed internet, long showers, and a dishwasher.
The Galley
During our months on land, we…
Ate none of:  Mexican food, beans, canned tuna
Ate lots of:  ice cream, Colombian arepas, & produce that spoils quickly on the boat
The Entertainment
Andrés Jacobo unearthed some amazing interviews of the Apple/Macintosh superstars.
We highly recommend watching the original iPhone lead, Scott Forstall, share his incredible stories.
The Horizon
We all made it to Volume 2!  We are excited to continue to cruise this year.  We plan to meander south along the Baja Peninsula before making bigger passages this winter.

Fair winds & following seas,

Katherine

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Co-Captain's Log

Vol 2 Iss 1: The Ominous Silence