January 4th – Ipala – Jim’s Blog #13

We had held over in La Cruz to avoid some heavy winds that were predicted around the tip of Cabo Corrientes – the southern point on the mouth of Banderas Bay. These winds were predicted to die off on Thursday; so we headed out at 0-dark-30 (an expression learned in the Navy, pronounced “oh-dark-thirty,” and indicating early in the morning before the sun comes up). I had dressed in warm clothes, including boat shoes and socks, because the mornings are typically cool and I was expecting to swab a deck covered in dew. As I poked my head up the hatch, I was surprised to find that there was a very warm, dry wind blowing off the land that had dried the decks thoroughly, along with the clothes we had hung out to dry the previous day. It was similar to a Santa Ana (Southern California name) or Chinook (Pacific Northwest name) and it allowed me to strip down to shorts, a T-shirt, and bare feet and avoid swabbing the deck.

We pulled up the anchor and were away at 6:30AM with the wind behind us, along with the sea swells, giving us a great sail to the turn point at Cabo Corientes. Any point like this is considered a bit more dangerous than say, sailing on a bay or ocean, because the deflected winds, opposing swells, and varying currents that are caused by a point of land separating two different bodies of water can be difficult to get around. Our wind picked up to 22 knots and we could see the swells coming out of the bay being crisscrossed with swells coming from the ocean. We had stayed about 3 nautical miles off the point, but we noticed that the currents were carrying us sideways into the point a bit. We adjusted our sails and managed to squeeze by the point with about 1 mile of clearance, and within a few miles we ran out of wind entirely and had to crank up the engine. At that point the high hills at Cabo Corrientes had cut off the wind coming out of the bay, and the swells were just the gentle ocean swells we were used to that came from just the one direction behind us.

The point at Cabo Corrientes showing the agitated sea state

Along the way we saw dozens of tortoises that appeared as floating coconuts from a distance. As we came alongside, a tortoise would scramble to submerge – I use “scramble” here to indicate a type of frantic activity on the part of a tortoise that amounted to lifting its flippers, paddling a couple of times and then heading down – so it was not exactly the usual meaning of “scramble.” I had a short clip to show you of what I’m talking about, but I can't get it to load. I'll try sometime when I have a better internet connection.

We also saw a whale in our path that jumped several times in a row nearly completely out of the water. We were motoring at the time; so we slowed down and continued straight ahead. The whale seemed to move to our right as we went by and continued jumping after we passed. We saw at least 10 jumps separated by a minute or two between them. Then, as we were approaching our destination for the day, we saw two whales playing together, although these only jumped a couple of times. We also have some whale clips, but they can't be loaded at the present time.

We had made good time with the strong winds in the bay; so we arrived at Ipala at about 2:30 in the afternoon, rather than just before dark. Thank goodness we did, because the anchorage in this small bay is a small inlet that can’t be seen from the Northerly direction we were coming from. As we came into the bay we looked all around for the small settlement indicated in the Cruising guides, and gradually worked our way nearer to the shore. Then, just as we were about to give up hope, we passed a small cliff and saw the inlet nestled into a space that seemed too small for our boat. As we entered the inlet, it widened out and we saw a dozen pangas anchored there with several buildings on shore (one three stories high) just as it had been pictured in the cruising guide.

There were at least three Palapas which we later learned all served cerveza (beer for those who haven’t read the earlier blogs) with menus that included shrimp, oysters, octopus, and mixed fish (which we presume meant that whatever fish happened along is what was served) – no beef and no poultry in this fishing village. There was loud music emanating from the shore that appeared to be from a band that was practicing their songs. We heard a lot of brass and the loudest drumming you can imagine.

A view of the small landing at Ipala

We quickly inflated the life raft and went ashore, where we found the palapa with the practicing band and sat down for a couple of Pacifico cervezas. It appeared that the rest of the clientele was the band and some friends sitting around taking a break. We asked for menus and didn’t see any guacamole and chips on it, as we had come to expect in all Mexican restaurants. That’s when we learned that they served only octopus, shrimp, oysters, and mixed fish – all of which were listed both in the appetizer and entrée sections of the limited menu. A man sitting next to us introduced himself as Melisio in halting English and suggested we try the oysters, as they were the “best in all of Mexico.” We ordered the oysters and were amazed at the size and the amount of “meat” in each shell. Naturally we were offered several types of hot sauce to accompany them down the gullet, and quickly put them away.

While we were starting to eat, the band that was sitting around the palapa came off their break, and started to perform. If the music was loud to us on the boat, the din was unbelievable from inside the palapa, primarily from a base drummer and a snare drummer who felt that the foundations had to shake to make them heard. The band also had a tuba and trombone player, two trumpeters, and two clarinetists; so they could generate a lot of noise – I mean “music.” The white-haired owner of the place came out, saw us, asked if that was our boat in the bay (it was the only sailboat around), and promptly brought out two more cervezas and two shots of tequila “on the house!” We realized that this is what cruisers go cruising for – a private bay all our own, sharing stories with friendly natives, being treated to the local drink, and eating exceptionally fresh food that can’t be found in markets.

We treated the band to a bucket of beer and were thanked with a rousing rendition of La Bamba. Then we went down the absolutely deserted beach, put out a towel and sunbathed for awhile before returning to our boat for late afternoon naps – tough life, I know. We were tired; so we stayed on the boat for dinner, watched a couple of hours of the first season of “24”, and hit the rack. That’s when we realized that the band, which was quaint and appealing early on, was going to keep playing for the rest of the night with a succession of songs and instrumentals that all sounded about the same – and all very loud. Apparently they had been practicing all afternoon to put on a show in the evening. By that time they had a microphone to “enhance” their sound. All we could do was close up the hatches and ports and hope that they would get tired by midnight. By midnight I was asleep; so I’m not sure how long they performed. What was amazing to me was that they were practicing at 2PM when we first came into the bay, so they must have played a good 10 hours of straight sets, with some canned music for an hour while they ate dinner. Let me assure you that this was not the Tijuana Brass.

The next day we walked up through the only street in the village to the top of a hill to take a picture of the town and the anchorage. On our hike we noticed some other boats approaching the anchorage, and returned to find about 7 boats all anchored closely together in the small inlet. We knew a couple of the cruising couples and had lunch with them – shrimp for Sheilagh and another dozen oysters for me. Then it was back to the boat for a nap before doing the boat chores.

I had noticed when cleaning the bottom of the boat in San Blas that our zincs were getting quite eroded. For those who don’t know, zincs are small patches or circles of zinc material fixed to the side of the boat or to the propeller shaft to which all of the electronics in the boat are grounded. Since dissimilar metals can cause the least noble (a chemistry term) to disintegrate when exposed to salt water together, we use zincs as sacrificial metals on the boat that will be eaten away by the salt water, leaving the more noble metals alone. Naturally these zincs are deep under water on a boat, so I pulled out the snuba gear (an air compressor that supplies air through a long tube), put on my weight belt, fins, mask (oh, and a swimming suit as well) and went over the side.

The zincs had been eaten almost completely away, so it was definitely time to change them. The difficulty is that they are fixed to the boat with small nuts and washers that have to be captured by hand when taking them off, and reused on the replacement zincs. Suffice it to say, I carefully unscrewed each of the nuts and brought them to the surface one at a time, and then returned with the new zincs, one on the lower right side of the boat and one on the propeller shaft, and again had to surface to get each one from Sheilagh to make sure we didn’t lose one in the process. You will be happy to know that we were successful, and even devised a lanyard to hold the wrench and screwdriver to my wrist to keep them from plunging to the bottom. I tell you all this so you will be aware that this is not strictly a vacation for us – we do actually have to do work to make sure the boat stays in good condition. Imagine if you had to dive down into a flooded basement to attach two pieces of metal to the walls to keep the house afloat, and you can see that this is not exactly fun.

By nightfall there were 9 boats anchored close together in the small inlet and we wondered how we would get our anchor up in the morning and set sail for Chamela without bothering all our neighbors. Luckily the band had moved on to another small town for the next couple of days; so we were spared the loud music this second night in the anchorage. More later . . .