The (mis)adventures of two dreamers that do
Sure enough, as soon as we had the anchor stowed and the sails up, the wind was barely strong enough to keep us exactly still. No forward progress to speak of and rain clouds approaching from the SW. We put the motor on and changed into our swimsuits, welcoming the impending rain. Each drop that fell seemed to carry a confused bee with it. Our boat was covered in sodden bumble bees seeking shelter.
A visit from the Nicaraguan navy. The final thunderstorm of rainy season? re: Lessons on wishful thinking. Our first of the much dreaded Papagayo winds along the coast of Nicaragua. Landfall in beautiful Northern Costa Rica!
When the temperature in the cabin started creeping towards 96 degrees at 11am, given the lack of ANY breeze, Jeff and I began to think we might not be sailing anywhere. To make matters worse, there were jellies in the water so “swimming” consisted of jumping in and then looking around frantically to make sure there weren’t any giant jellies oozing towards you.
We kind of lucked out though, because at around noon, just as the tide was shifting in our favor, a perfect side wind (from the S/SW) picked up. It wasn’t much, only around 7-8 knots, but it was absolutely enough to sail by (and just enough to keep our sweat chilled).
The evening prior we sat with the crew of SV Vagabundo on the second floor of a restaurant at La Puntilla and watched our friends Dave and Leiann on SV Chrysallis, another boat in the 30 feet and under club, plow through the waves. At one point we heard over the radio “The pilot isn’t sure you’re going to make it” but Dave kept on trucking and they powered through after waiting out a big set of waves. We were shoreside rooting them on.
I’m not sure if watching another boat cross the bar made me more anxious or more confident. Regardless, unless we wanted to call Bahia del Sol home we had to cross it and conditions on Tuesday were looking good.
The longer we’re out here, the more quickly the time passes. It’s hard to believe that we’ve been in Estero Jaltepeque now for over three weeks and that October is […]
An unexpectedly expensive month. The biggest expenditure was moorage at Marina Chiapas since we didn’t quite read between the lines and also forgot to account for taxes (which were easily […]
I’m sitting at the only dry table in the open air restaurant at Hotel Bahia del Sol, while the rain falls sideways around me, the wind bullies bottles of ketchup and plastic chairs left in the open and bolts of lightening thick as tree trunks strike the horizon. I can barely see our boat through the curtain of rain, but I can see our mast head light bobbing in the wind waves. When they say rainy season, they mean…
The days are just packed.
Bahia del Sol, also known as Estero Jaltepeque is the terminus for many small tributaries in the Rio Lempa basin (Rio Lempa is the longest river in El Salvador). The Bahia del Sol entrance is marked by breaking waves rather than fortress walls and colored buoys. Her lines are not tidy. The dance between river and tides and currents determines where the channel lies on any given day, month, year. It swings and shifts and curves and remains elusive to foreigners such as ourselves. Crossing the bar into Estero Jaltepeque requires either some serious (p)luck or local knowledge – we opted for local knowledge, though (p)luck still factors in to a degree.
We don’t want to give you the false impression that ALL we did this past month was work our tails off and get caught in shit storms. We did work hard, but we also made time to explore and relax in the towns and neighborhoods near Marina Chiapas. We really really loved this place, even though it had its occasional less than awesome quirks.
Another photo essay for you dear friends!