Full moon sailing

Isla Bellena at sunset time.

I’m gonna cut right to the chase and tell you that our temporary fix to our transmission problem didn’t hold. When we tested the engine earlier in the day on our intended departure date the coupling wiggled off of the output shaft after several minutes. Jeff was able to put it back together again and improve upon his improvised lock nut tool to get more torque, but neither of us trusted that it was a totally permanent fix. There was really only one option available to us…sail back to La Paz.

The wind was nonexistent for the majority of the day. When we felt a slight breeze at 5pm we reassembled our innards and prepared to haul the anchor and depart the anchorage under sail, a first for us. I raised the main to give us some forward momentum while Jeff hoisted the anchor. Once the anchor was tucked away safely in the anchor locker we raised our Genoa and sailed off into the sunset. Romantic, huh?

The wind was sporadic all night, shifting from the east, to the north and northwest, ranging from 5 to 15 knots, until it died down around 11pm. The moon was brilliant, luminescent, hopeful. I was on watch, adjusting the sails as best I could to maintain forward momentum in the light winds. The light of the moon kept me awake, alert. In the distance I heard fluttering wings. It was subtle at first but over time it reached a crescendo, the muffled sound of a distant crowd applauding. That’s when I saw it, on the horizon, a wind line, small waves approaching from the southwest. I could hear the wind, I could see it, but I couldn’t yet feel it. I readied the sails, watching…waiting…waiting…waiting, hoping that the wind wouldn’t overwhelm us, ready to holler at Jeff.

When Jeff emerged for his shift we were humming along at 5.5 knots with a healthy 15 degree heel. Things were looking up. Jeff steered us safely into Playa Pichilingue under sail where we planned to sleep until daybreak when we would brave the La Paz channel on a flood tide (and hopefully with a wind at our back…maybe asking too much). We dropped the hook in 18 feet of water and let the wind push us backwards, burying our Bruce anchor in the sand. Despite the late night and early morning ahead we were both wired, clearly under the influence of the moon…and the caffeine we had recently consumed.