October 27th, 2011

October 27, 2011

We completed the first leg of the Baja Ha-Ha early this morning when we dropped the hook in Turtle Bay at around 1230am. Around 6pm the previous day, the wind which had been so fickle, finally decided to kick up between 20 and 25 knots. Unfortunately it was coming only one point off our stern and we had a following sea that continued to mount as the night went on. The trusty vessel Whistle Wing gets very squirrely with a following sea and it requires quite a bit of concentration to keep her on her course. This resulted in a tedious yet satisfying approach to land with our averaging between 7 and 8 knots. Right outside of the bay we headed into the wind and began to drop our sails and furl them. What should have been an otherwise routine affair turned into quite the boondoggle because the seas had mounted to between 5 and 6 feet. This does not sound very big, but when reporting what the wave height is; one does not measure between trough and crest but rather from the middle of the wave, or regular sea height, to the crest. That means we were trying to furl sails on a boat that is tossing and turning like a cork with a mast that, although sheeted down, was moving enough to toss the crew around.

The approach was a piece of cake however and as soon as we were inside the bay, the seas subsided. The cold did not. I was put on bow watch and had 25 knots of wind cutting to the bone. But we managed to set the hook with no problems and once we put her to sleep, we cracked a bottle of wine that had been a going away present and proceeded to sit in the cockpit and shoot the breeze for about an hour under a brilliant canopy of stars, an expanse of bobbing mast lights, and the gentle glow of town lights coming from shore. It was then time to turn in and we were instantly greeted by the “sonosphere” as we have come to call it. Our fourth companion who will be leaving us at the end of the race has an uncanny ability to fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow and his snores continue for the course of the night. The “sonosphere” refers to the sonic atmosphere down below as we are all forced to fall asleep to what can only be compared to a freight train.

Morning broke to a brilliant sunrise, a picturesque anchorage, and a hearty breakfast of pancakes, bratwurst, and rice. After we took care of a few vessel related matters it was time to launch the zodiac and head to shore. The town of Turtle Bay is completely off the beaten path of Mexico. It is a town that harbors around six thousand people, none of whom speak a single word of English. It is something out of a movie with small Mexican villas and homes, corner stores and cantinas, and of course the requisite church, football pitch, and baseball diamond. All the members of the race gather at the baseball diamond for an informal game and had quite a few kids from the neighborhood drop by to show us how the sport was really played. The town’s population must have swelled by 20% today. The mayor and town threw us a fiesta with live music, dancing, and vendors but unfortunately most of the members of the Whistle Wing’s crew decided to abstain so we enjoyed the sounds from afar. Tomorrow there is supposed to be another beach fiesta around noon that we will be partaking in.

The demographics and socioeconomic breakdown of the town are very interesting. At the very center of the waterfront is a broken down fish processing plant that has clearly been decommissioned for decades and completely disregarded. You can actually see straight through the falling down cinder block walls into the plant itself, and the rust is leeching out onto the beach. That is not to say that there is no fishing that goes on anymore. The town is clearly completely subsistent on the fishing industry. We saw quite a few boats pull up and beach themselves next to a waiting truck on the beach. They would unload their nets into the trunk of these F-150s, take the boats out to anchorage, and the trucks would drive into town to presumably repair the nets overnight for the next day’s work.

Much of the town seemed to be living right on the poverty line- hand to mouth. I saw many unemployed Mexican men just sitting on the beach watching the comings and goings of the tourist sailors with apparent listless disinterest. These men ranged in age from late teens to mid-50’s. What is interesting is that this is the middle of tuna season and they should have been gainfully employed. The answer to this question lies in the fact that the tuna industry has been taken offshore into giant factory ships. The fish are caught and processed on the spot for a faster turnaround that makes fishing towns like this obsolete. The fishermen that do fish from shore are few and far between because the schools of fish are moving further and further offshore. Instead they are reliant on the tourist industry.

As soon as we woke up in the morning and finished our coffee, before breakfast had even been cooked, we were greeted by at least two pangas (small skiffs). The occupants tried to sell us fresh water, ice, food, fuel, and even rides to shore. Though there was a huge language barrier, it became very apparent what wares they were selling because they were well versed in sign language. After sending them on their way and checking in with the morning net (radio network) we found out that many people were utilizing their services. The prices were reasonable and the convenience was impossible to beat; one dollar to be ferried to shore and two dollars to be ferried home after dark. Since we had our own small boat we did not have to take them up on their offer, but it turns out even to tie up at the town’s pier we needed to pay Gordo the same fee of 1 dollar. They also seemed very happy to accept dollars instead of pesos. It turns out that this is more practical to them because the town does not exist off of tourism but instead it exists off of servicing the tuna fleets that stole their initial livelihood, other cruisers, Mexican Navy boats, and international commercial vessels coming north from South America. As we saw, the seas and winds can come up rapidly and force people to take refuge in this large bay. The pass is over ¾ of a mile wide and the center of the bay is deep enough for even the largest vessel to anchor. In short, this town only exists as a safe haven for people passing by.

On a more personal note, every person that I had the chance to interact with seemed incredibly nice. They would go out of their way to try to direct me towards where I was going. The service was nice. The teenagers that were running the docks and pangas were respectful, professional, and well mannered. Our zodiac was triple parked at the pier and the kids instantly snapped to work trying to free our boat so we could get going. They did this without the slightest hint at a tip or a handout. There is also no police force whatsoever in the town. It appears that they take care of any problem that arises themselves. It is apparent that the town does not have a lot going for it economically, but they do not let that dampen their spirits. The one puzzling fact that I witnessed time and again was the fact that there were quite a few very nice cars and trucks in town.

The nice cars and trucks were not obviously used as the work vehicles by the fishermen or construction workers (the only two jobs I saw besides food industry and the pier), but instead were driven by the wives around town. They were parked outside of what Americans would call a hovel as if putting money into a car was more important than the upkeep on a house. Even more interesting is the fact that there was not a single paved road anywhere in town. Most were simply dirt and sand but the one main road was crushed gravel. Obviously there is not much rainfall here because it would all wash away.

In short, the first day in Turtle Bay has been a blast. It has been an eye opening experience into an entirely different world. The town is Americanized in brand names, but other than that it still manages to cling to its distinct cultural roots. It is completely cut off from mainland Mexico and it seems to have developed as a microcosm. The people are nice, but the town is clearly in dire straits.