Sailing (finally)

Nan and I took Nazario and his son Aldo sailing on the Saturday after we returned to El Milagro Marina from the boatyard. There was a brisk ten to fifteen knot breeze blowing from the south, and the sky was filled with puffy cumulus clouds. It was a perfect day to get out on the cool blue waters between Isla Mujeres and Cancun, and a good opportunity to see how Whispering Jesse would perform after the repair work on her skeg, which had kept us from sailing since we arrived here in late May.

We threw off the lines at 10:30, with the idea of sailing all the way around the island. We motored out of the bay, past the two red buoys that mark its entrance channel, and aimed for the distinctive Gran Puerto building over in Puerto Juarez. The water just past where the island's peninsula juts out is shallow and features a sandy bottom, which makes the water appear a brilliant aquamarine, like what you imagine the person who came up with swimming pool paint was trying but failing to achieve.

Once we reached double-digit depth, I turned us south into the wind and we raised the mainsail. Nazario and Aldo both speak very good English, so communication was not an issue. We fell off the wind toward Cancun and unfurled the jib. I had Nazario slide the fairlead aft and then I opened the lifeline gate so we could sheet the jib in tightly. Otherwise, the sheet puts excessive pressure on the lifelines and stanchions. We took a bead on the new hotel over in Cancun's Hotel Zone that looks like it has a hole in it and tightened the sheets for a fast close reach. On a whim, we also unfurled the staysail, for the true cutter (two headsails) effect. At six to seven knots, we were heeling a little beyond comfort, so we slid the traveler leeward to flatten the ride. Nazario and Aldo, who are very experienced with fishing boats but not so much with sailboats, were smiling broadly. They commented that it seemed like we were going much faster than we actually were.

There is a large red buoy that marks the southwest corner of the shallow water at Punta Sur, the southern point of Isla Mujeres. We furled the staysail and then tacked when the buoy was off our beam. We were adjusted for our new heading before I realized it would take us another couple of tacks to clear the island's south end. We had been out for over an hour at this point and it was going to take a few more hours to get all the way around, so I asked if we shouldn't maybe think about heading back instead. The others agreed, and we jibed to follow a heading right up the island's beautiful western coast, with its many beaches and impressive villas.

Coming back into the bay, the boat traffic was intense, causing greater wave action than we had experienced outside it. We furled the jib, dropped the mainsail, and followed the red buoys back in. As we approached El Milagro Marina, we dodged other boats while looking for an opportunity to turn to starboard in order to set up for a reverse entry and a stern-to tie-up. Soon we were standing on the pier in the hot sun drinking ice-cold Modelos. When Nan asked him what he thought of the experience, Aldo said with a smile, "Now I want a sailboat."

Touch-ups and bottom paint

Last Thursday afternoon when we stopped at the boatyard, there were all kinds of work going on. Roberto was finishing up the skeg repair, his assistant was buffing out the touch-up paint on the cosmetic gelcoat repairs, and the boatyard men were applying the first coat of bottom paint to the hull. All assured us that the boat would be ready to go the next morning.

To be certain they hadn't missed anything, Nan and I walked slowly around the boat, looking closely at every surface. The first thing we noticed was that the white and blue paint that had looked like a near-perfect match when it was wet at the paint store was not so perfect when it dried. The white was a little too yellow, and the blue was a little too bright. From a distance you couldn't tell, but up close the margins were easy to distinguish. For what we paid, I can't complain. I would much rather look at slightly mismatched paint than at the scars where our Aries windvane was.

Early Friday morning, Nan and I walked to the boatyard instead of riding our folding bikes. Nazario met us there shortly afterward. The boat was already up in the lift when we arrived. The boatyard men were cleaning up the bottom of the keel before painting it and the patches where the supports were. When they were finished, the boat looked almost brand new, buffed and shiny above the waterline and deep black below.

A ladder was placed against the rail, and Nazario and I climbed aboard for the slow ride over to the haul-out basin. We used the time to rig up fenders and dock lines. Once we were afloat and the lifting straps were released, we tossed the lines and pulled the boat over to pick up Nan. I fired up the engine and backed us out into the channel, put the transmission into forward, and motored toward El Milagro Marina. Whispering Jesse felt good and right again.

Fiberglass repair and more

Roberto got right to work the next morning, Friday, arriving at the boatyard with a milk crate full of tools. Nan and I were waiting there to give him the second 1,000 pesos he had requested as a deposit. He thanked us and pulled out his rotary sander. We told him we would return later to see how it was going and pedaled away on our folding bikes.

When we returned, Roberto was at the entrance gate signing out with the security guard. He walked with us back to the boat and showed us how he had cleaned up all the ragged edges on the skeg shells and on the skeg itself. He told us he would be back on Saturday to begin the fiberglassing.

The photos show the progression of Roberto's fiberglass work on the skeg over the next few days. While we were at it, we also contracted with him to repair and paint the scars left by the removal of our old Aries windvane, as well as numerous hull scratches from past docking mishaps, for an additional 3,000 pesos.

This extra work required a trip over to Cancun the following Monday to visit a few different marine paint stores, but first we met Nazario at Nauticos Cancun, a marine supply store, to buy new zincs for the hull and propeller shaft. While we were

there, I noticed that a gallon of Pettit bottom paint was priced at 4,350 pesos. I did the conversion, and it worked out to $362.00! Nazario said it was so expensive because it was so heavy to ship from the United States. (A gallon of water weighs a little over eight pounds, but a gallon of bottom paint weighs at least twice that because of all the growth-inhibiting metals it contains.) We had worked out the details with the boatyard to have them paint the bottom after Roberto finished, but I didn't expect the necessary three gallons to cost over a thousand dollars. Nazario suggested that we use Mexican bottom paint instead and drove us over to Nervion Pinturas, which seemed an appropriate name as the fumes inside the store were enough to cause nerve damage.

We took three gallons of black Nervion bottom paint to the counter, along with three liters of solvent. Then Nazario went back and forth with the paint-mixing man in rapid Spanish to see about getting quarter-liters of touch-up paint, matched as closely as possible to the Awl Grip paint sample sheet I had brought along. Whispering Jesse's "Snow White" and "Royal Blue" were not easy matches, and it took several minutes for the man to mix close colors. Nan and I were getting headaches from the paint fumes by then and wondering why the large ventilation hood above the counter was not running at full blast.

With a trunk full of very heavy paint, Nazario drove us to the ferry dock for the ride back to Isla Mujeres. We thanked him profusely for his help and offered him money to at least pay for his gas, but he would not take it. He is a very good man and we appreciate him tremendously.

Haul-out

We were finally able to coordinate getting the boat hauled out and the fiberglass repair on our damaged skeg started. It took scheduling the lift at the boatyard, finding a reliable fiberglass repair person, and locating lodging for the duration of the work. It all came together for us on Thursday morning, thanks in large part to the friends we have made here in Isla Mujeres.

Nazario, the captain of Ditty Wah, the beautiful sport fishing boat in the slip next to Whispering Jesse, speaks excellent English. He also knows Louis Fernando, the boatyard manager at Puerto Isla Mujeres, and he contacted him on our behalf to get an estimate on the haul-out.

Teresa and Louis, who own the Color de Verano apartments where we have stayed many times, have used Roberto, a fiberglass expert from Cancun, for work on their own sailboat. Roberto speaks no English, but Teresa contacted him for us and set up an appointment for him to meet us at the boatyard on Thursday afternoon.

Eric, the owner of El Milagro Marina, let us apply a trade that we had worked out for a magazine article I am writing about the marina to lodging in one of his studio units. We needed a place to stay because the boatyard does not permit people to live aboard their boats while they are there being worked on.

Early yesterday morning, Nan and I packed up the clothing, computers and other items we would need and put them in the marina's office for safekeeping until we could check in to the studio in the afternoon. We removed the awning, hatch-mounted air conditioner, and other equipment from the deck and prepared for departure. Nazario and Felix, the marina's resident handyman, showed up on the pier just before nine o'clock to assist with the dock lines. I fired up the engine and we shoved off, motoring very slowly toward Puerto Isla Mujeres, located on the channel that connects Isla Mujeres's bay to Laguna Makax.

We were met by two boatyard workers at the haul-out basin, and a third drove the lift over. Nazario jumped in the water to ensure that the slings were placed correctly under the hull, and then Whispering Jesse was slowly on her way up and out of the water. There was a round of exclamations as the damaged skeg came into view. The broken skeg shells remained in place, even after the hull was power washed, but they were hanging on only where they joined the bottom of the rudder.

Roberto had agreed to see us at one o'clock, and Nazario was kind enough to return to the boatyard to speak with him for us. While the two spoke in rapid Spanish, Roberto evaluated the damage, pulled a hammer and chisel out of his tool bag, and pounded a horizontal crease into the bottom of each skeg shell. He then levered them both off, exposing the raw structural fiberglass beneath. We had not even discussed a price yet, but there was no turning back now.

Roberto made some mental calculations and then spoke rapidly with Nazario again. Nazario pointed at the skeg and asked several questions, then turned to Nan and me and said that Roberto would fix the skeg for 9,000 pesos. I pulled out my iPhone to do the monetary conversion using the calculator app. It worked out to about $750, which seemed like a very good deal. We shook hands on it. Roberto then requested 2,000 pesos in advance, but we had only 1,000 with us. We promised to return with the difference the next morning, when he would begin the work.

Nan and I pedaled back to El Milagro on our folding bikes confident that we were in good hands with Roberto. We thanked Nazario and Felix profusely and gave them gifts of beer and cash to let them know how much we appreciated their help.

Greetings from San Diego

A few days after Nan returned from her visit home to Manitowoc, Wisconsin to see her mother, I left Isla Mujeres, Mexico (after two more trips to Immigration for the necessary paperwork) to travel to San Diego for a family get-together celebrating my father's eightieth birthday. Nan graciously stayed behind to look after the boat, and it's good that she did because she has reported daily rain and high winds.

My sisters Susan and Jane coordinated the rental of a large home in the hills of La Jolla, with great views to the north toward the San Bernardino Mountains. We have been mostly hanging out at the house because it has been difficult to coordinate twelve people going anywhere in three small rental cars, especially when nobody can agree on where to go. We did all agree to go to the La Jolla Cove beach area on Monday to see the surfers and the sea lions. Brother Stuart was the only one to take a swim and he reported that the water was a brisk 72 degrees or so.

On Wednesday, a group of us went to the San Diego Zoo. Growing up in Milwaukee, I always thought Milwaukee's zoo was the best, but it doesn't compare to San Diego's, partly because of the difference in climates. Milwaukee's harsh winters prevent the growth of the lush tropical vegetation that is so abundant at the San Diego Zoo. We were there in the late afternoon, at feeding time, and the animals were active. We watched the big cats and the rhinoceros pace around in anticipation of dinner. The koalas woke from their naps and munched on the eucalyptus shoots that were waiting for them. We would have seen the pandas and their new cub but the line was a half-hour long. Some in our group were able to spot them later from the aerial tram we took at the end of the day.

On Thursday, Independence Day, another group of us went to Old Town San Diego. I had not realized that it even existed, but the people of San Diego have done a remarkable job in preserving the original site of the city's settlement. We toured the buildings that housed the first settlers but are now excellent museums. We watched the Fourth of July parade around the Old Town square featuring descendants in period clothing. And we jumped at the boom of an historic cannon firing.

Friday, our last full day, was another beach day. We all drove up to Encinitas and spent the afternoon at Sea Cliff County Park. The nephews tried to body surf in the small waves, and Stuart again went for a long swim. The rest of us were content to sit in the sand and watch the surfers.

I took advantage of being in the United States and had a bunch of boat stuff drop-shipped to the La Jolla house for personal transport back to Isla Mujeres, Mexico. In addition to getting the delaminated skeg fixed, I now have what I need to complete a long list of additional boat projects. More on that later...

Boat problem

Shortly after we arrived here in Isla Mujeres, I put on my snorkeling gear to take a look at the growth accumulating on Whispering Jesse below the waterline. What I saw under there shocked me: the skeg that the rudder is attached to was separating from the hull! There was a wide crack at the juncture between the skeg and the hull that ran all the way around and a second crack that ran all the way down the forward edge of the skeg. I could see inside the crack that the structure of the skeg was still intact, but it appeared that the only thing holding the outer layer of fiberglass in place was the hardware that attaches it to the rudder.

The boat's hull had been professionally cleaned at Delegal Creek Marina in late March, and I'm sure the gentleman who did the job would have told me if he had seen anything suspicious. So the damage must have occurred either during the shakedown sail we did before our big trip down here or sometime during the trip itself. The logical assumption is that it happened when we ran aground on a sandy shoal during low tide at the entrance to the Delegal Creek channel. The boat pivoted on its keel as it rounded into the wind, and it's possible that the skeg contacted the shoal as well. We were stuck there for over an hour until the rising tide lifted us off, which would be plenty of time to create the kind of damage that now exists.

The scary thing about this is that it means we sailed all the way from Savannah to Isla Mujeres--over a thousand miles--with the damaged skeg. If I had snorkeled under the boat when we reached Florida, where the water was less murky, and seen the damage, I probably would have ended the trip right there.

Now we're in Mexico and the repair may be difficult and expensive, but it needs to be done before the boat can be sailed again. There is only one real boatyard with a lift here on Isla Mujeres. Fortunately, it is only a few hundred yards away, on the channel connecting the bay and the lagoon. We have received a haul and block quote from them already, and it was not unreasonable. With any luck, the repair estimate, which will need to wait until the boat is hauled and inspected, will also be reasonable. Before we motor over there, though, I am thinking it might be a good idea to go under the boat with some cord and lash the skeg together as best I can, just in case.

Immigration update

It took two more trips to the Immigration office in Cancun, on Thursday and Friday, after Monday's all-day affair, to get Nan squared away with her official permission to leave and return. What we did not realize until Thursday is that in order to get the permission, one must first complete the residency card requirements. They are not completely separate processes, but this was never communicated to us. Instead, we waited (and waited) for one of the officers to approve Nan's documentation (for a second time), with the correct number of copies of everything this time, and to give her a number in line for fingerprinting, which we wrongly assumed was a permission requirement.

It was mid-afternoon by the time an officer took Nan's fingerprints and handed her a paper towel but no solvent. The officer then asked to see Nan's face photos, which we had taken at a photo studio in Isla Mujeres after our first trip to Immigration. She frowned and said the face images in the photos were too small; the photos would need to be retaken. I could see Nan start to lose her composure. Heck, I was losing mine. The officer then asked to see Nan's bank receipt for the 3,130-peso fee for her residency card, which Nan didn't have yet because she assumed she was processing her permission, not her residency card. We hastily thanked the officer and said we would return with the receipt and the new photos. We were both shaking with anger by the time we were back outside. Nan said, "Screw it!", or words to that effect. "I am not coming back here! I will just tell the airport people that I lost my travel visa and pay the fine."

We had cooled down by the time we reached the ferry terminal for the ride back to Isla Mujeres, and we decided that it would be too risky to claim a lost travel visa. What if it caused Nan to miss her flight? Instead, we would go back to Cancun early the next morning when the Banjercito bank opened, pay the fee, make the copies and get the new photos, but not wait in line again. "Regresemos" (We are returning), we would say to the guard, and we hoped he would recognize us and let us in.

Well, it worked. Of course, it took most of the day again, with a two-hour wait for final document processing, but then Nan was the proud owner of a very official-looking document giving her permission to leave the country of Mexico, which she did bright and early on Monday morning. She is back in Wisconsin now, attending to her mother and making plans for her return, hopefully late next week and possibly with Scout.

Another trip to Immigration

Nan and I returned to Immigration in Cancun yesterday to process requests for permiso de salida y regreso (permission to leave and return). We surrendered our travel visas last week when we submitted the paperwork to convert our residente temporal (temporary resident) visas into residency cards. Without our travel visas, we cannot leave Mexico legally. It takes special permission: a letter of explanation in Spanish, an official form, copies of passports and other documents, face photos, fingerprints, and 320 pesos. Some of this we did not know about before we showed up bright and early to wait in line outside the office again, this time in blazing hot sunshine.

Nan's mother fell and broke her hip recently. She is recovering well with the support of her large family, and Nan wants to be with her now, not in the three weeks we were told last week that it would take to get our residency cards. Thus, her need for special permission. My father is turning 80 at the end of this month, and my family has planned a get-together in San Diego. But if it takes longer than three weeks to get our residency cards, then I would be out of luck, and I already have airline tickets. Thus, my need for special permission.

When we finally made it to the head of the line, we were told by the officer that we needed copies of documents and proofs of payment that we did not have. Also, my letter of explanation was not specific enough. Apparently, "family matters" is not a sufficient excuse. We would need to do as requested and then stand in line again. I was ready to go back to Isla Mujeres and return the next day, but Nan pointed out that we could probably get everything done in Cancun. We started at the Banjercito bank around the corner, to pay the necessary fees and collect our receipts as proof. I remembered seeing an Internet cafe out the bus window on our way to the Immigration office, so I went off to find it while Nan held our new place in line. Six or seven blocks of very hot walking later, I found the cafe and retyped my letter in Spanish on a Spanish keyboard--not as easy as it sounds--and provided details of the birthday trip to San Diego. I made the necessary document copies, paid my sixteen pesos (only $1.25 USD for a half-hour of computer time and eight copies), and then headed back to Immigration.

I expected that Nan would be near the head of the line after the 45 minutes I was gone, but the line had barely moved and she was still not even under the awning. I held our place in the brutal sun while she went for liters of cold water at a nearby Oxxo (Mexico's version of 7-Eleven). Two hours later, we made it back inside to speak again with the officer. This time, Nan's request and documentation were fine, but my request was too far into the future. I would need to return five or six days before my scheduled departure. Why he didn't tell me that the first time is beyond me. We were told to sit and wait another half-hour and then Nan would be fingerprinted. A half-hour later, Nan got up to talk with an English-speaking officer who said no, Nan's fingerprinting would take place when we returned on Thursday for her final document processing, which will require another long wait in line. No kidding.

Then on June 24 and again on June 27, I will need to return for the two trips necessary to process my own permission. Sometime in July, enough time will have passed that we should be notified to return to finish the processing of our residency cards, though an American in line ahead of us told us not to get too excited; he had been waiting for his for almost three months.

La Amada Marina

Last Friday, before all the rain started, Nan and I drafted Felix, the Mexican sailor who is looking after another sailboat here at El Milagro Marina, to motor with us over to La Amada Marina for a fuel fill-up and holding tank pump-out. We had thought we would be able to pump out at Puerto Isla Mujeres/Villa Vera here on the island, but their pump-out service has been out of commission for a few weeks and the stink in the boat from the holding tank was so bad that we couldn't wait.

La Amada is located on the mainland due west of Isla Mujeres's bay entrance, only about three miles or forty-five minutes of slow motoring away. It is the only public marina located anywhere near Cancun, but it is at least three miles north of the Puerto Juarez ferry terminals and a little north of the Punta Sam car ferry terminal--not exactly walking distance to downtown Cancun or the Hotel Zone.

We threw off Whispering Jesse's dock lines and motored out at about 2:00 in the afternoon. I was pleased to see that the repair to the drive chain's connecting plates, which was completed shortly after our arrival, was working well. (The mechanic did show up finally but not until the next day, and then two hours later than scheduled.) The wind and waves were favorable, and we soon picked up the entrance channel's buoys leading into the marina. I radioed that we were requesting a pump-out but didn't get an intelligible response after multiple tries. It wasn't until we were treading water in front of the marina office that a woman came out and pointed across at slip 88. We floated a little longer waiting for a dock worker to ride his bike around to meet us and then motored slowly into the slip. Thanks to Felix's native Spanish, we were able to make it known that we wanted a pump-out of our agua negra. After the holding tank was empty, I went down and flushed many gallons of sea water through the head, until the fluid coming out through the suction hose was completely clear. Next, we motored back to the marina office, where the diesel pumps were located, tied up and topped off the fuel tank. The price was in pesos per liter, which is a complicated conversion, but it worked out to just under $200 USD total. Along with the $45 USD pump-out fee, it was an expensive but worthwhile trip. The stink was gone, the fuel tank was full, and the engine tested perfectly.

Aside from the available amenities at La Amada Marina, there is not much to promote it. In addition to its isolation from almost everything on the mainland, it is not an attractive place, despite how it looks in the promotional photo above. The foliage in the photo is long gone. The marina is nothing but stark concrete piers surrounded by stark concrete walls, and all of it is reflecting intense heat. It might be a good, protected place to keep a boat, but it would be a terrible, depressing place to stay on a boat, even for an overnight. Maybe we'll check out Puerto Morelos, south of Cancun but north of Playa del Carmen, for our next trip over to the mainland.

Rain, rain, and more rain

Nan and I were caught in a downpour on Saturday afternoon while pedaling our folding bikes back to the marina from a stop at Brisas Grill in el centro for a drink and a chat with our friend, Juan, who works there. We waited out the rain under a palm tree before continuing, and it seems we have been waiting it out ever since, going on four full days now. Activity on the island has come to a near standstill, as roads are flooded and businesses are closed.

It has rained over a foot in the last twenty-four hours. Take a close look at our dinghy in the photo above. (Click it for the full-size version, if you like.) Yes, it is completely full of rainwater. Yesterday, it was almost dry after Felix, a Mexican sailor who looks after another sailboat in the marina, bailed it out with a cut-off water bottle for something to do. He volunteered to do it again today and I told him, "Mas tarde," after the rain stops. There's no point in bailing while it's still raining. The water level is high enough now that it's running over the transom, so there's no danger of the dinghy sinking. I wonder if the cut-off water bottle is still floating around in there somewhere. Note also the well-flowing scupper on Whispering Jesse in the background.

We seem to be experiencing the aftermath of Hurricane Barbara, but a look at the satellite images on the NOAA website shows another system developing to the southwest, where Barbara came from, so the rain may continue for several more days. I told a resort guest this morning that it might be time to start building the ark. His vacation mostly ruined by the rain, he didn't think that was very funny.