Waiting out the northers

We’re in a holding pattern at Isla San Francisco. We’ve been
here for almost a week now. Tomorrow marks a week. For the last seven days we
have had gusts up to 40 knots on several days and the waves around the point
look menacing. On the AmigoNet (the ham radio net for Mexico, where they dispense useful knowledge, including a weather forecast) we learned that 8
boats have been stranded at San Evaristo (a couple miles northwest of us) for
12 whole days waiting for a good enough weather window to move north.

Cruising is as much about knowing when to stay put as it is about sailing. You won’t make much Northern progress in a 40 knot blow in the Sea of Cortez. It doesn’t take an old salt to figure that out.

When we were leaving La Paz we kept over hearing conversations
about how “that was the last of the Northers” or “the Northers
have finally blown themselves out.” They were hopeful, but not accurate.

We blew in on a Norther back in December. We waited for over
a week at Bahia Frailes because the winds and seas were so threatening. We
weren’t expecting that they would flank our trip in the Sea of Cortez, but I
guess the legendary Northers cannot and will not be avoided. They will make
themselves known and remembered by all who live and travel by sea.

The “Northers” originate in the four corners of
the US, where weather systems build up and are funneled south, into the Sea of
Cortez. It must have been an epic storm up North, because the wind won’t
quit…it just keeps blowing. They are so well known/respected that I just read about them in a recounting of the Mexican-American War. The Northers completely shredded the cheaply made tents that gave refuge to the marauding American troops.

Strong wind makes everything more challenging: cooking,
standing, rowing to shore, sleeping. Serenity has been trying to buck our
anchor for a straight week and she feels permanently crooked due to the wind
that elevates her port side.

We
live by the weather now. It dictates our days for better or worse. The wind is our source of movement, but it can also be our prison. 

The wind has encouraged us to find fun in unsuspected places. We play cribbage. We listen to
music. We have dance parties. We drink lots of tequila. I make Jeff listen to me sing along to my favorite Broadway musicals (after having consumed lots of tequila, you should hear me as Javert in Les Mis). We read books. We eat things. We watch movies. We brave
the trip to shore and are always glad we did. We explore beaches. We collect beautiful stones. We bathe. We fish. We joke
about being trapped, in this beautiful place. We marvel at how strange this
life is. We snuggle. We look outside to assess the state of the wind and measure it with our handheld meter. We gasp and cringe and ooh and aah when a particularly big blow shakes us. We wonder
what a calm day will feel like…we’ve almost forgotten.