Baja WeeHee, leg 2.415 — by Erin


We’re still at it. The WeeHee boats are making tracks south, in about 10 knots of breeze. Brian and I are 45 miles north of Magdalena Bay, Petter and Octavia are close behind, and Eric is bringing up the rear. We’re all trying to sail as much as possible — we have some time before PJ’s birthday party in La Paz next Monday, and the weather has been just about perfect. The wind lightened up a bit so now we’re averaging five knots with both headsails up. We’re not breaking any downwind records, but at least we’re not motoring. Delos has been a treat to sail in these conditions — steady, comfortable, and quiet. Even with considerable swells marching in from behind — easily 10-12 feet high — Delos simply rocks gently from side to side, never more than a few degrees in either direction. Having the dual headsails has been wonderful — we’re able to simply set the sails and ride the prevailing wind and swells in the direction that they take us, rather than fighting against them and adjusting course and sail trim every few hours.

The crew of Delos, including the one member with four legs, are all feeling good. It took me a few days to get my sea legs — I never felt sick, but I felt pretty exhausted most of the time. Today I feel more relaxed, more alert, and more rested. And Mishka is acting like a full-fledged cat again, eating every few hours and napping in all of her favorite hidey-holes. Getting her into Mexico was easier than bringing raw eggs into Canada. We checked “yes” in the box that asked if we had a live animal or fresh fruit on board (yes, they grouped those items into one box), but I suppose he assumed we simply had a few apples because he shooed us away after giving us the stamp of approval.

The WeeHee boats have decided to forgo all stops on the west coast of Baja in favor of getting to La Paz sooner rather than later. Our guide book describes La Paz as having white sand beaches, cantinas with cold beers and warm tacos, 82 degree water, world class snorkeling and diving, and friendly locals with a rich history. We’re all excited to get there and take in our first port of arrival in the Sea of Cortez. Although being out here isn’t half bad either. Brian and I just watched two dolphins play in our bow wake, and I’ve been counting flying fish as a way to pass the time. I suppose I could read or learn French or do something industrious, but I think counting fish is about as good a way to spend my day as any.

We were in the shipping lanes last night, dodging 700-foot tankers in the dark (thank goodness for radar and AIS!), but today we’re the only boat out here again. Nothing on radar, nothing on the horizon. It’s just us on this vast span on the ocean… Not a bad way to commute. If I could trade in all of the hours sitting in a car, stuck in traffic, for time out here on a day like today — with the warm sun overhead in a cloudless sky, the gentle breeze propelling us through the sky-at-dusk blue ocean — I’d be a happy girl.


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