Crisscrossed in the Right Direction 

We finally got back to sailing.  We started out crisscrossed in more ways than one, but headed in the right direction (south to new countries and the Panama Canal).  

We splashed the boat (put it back in the water), checked all the thru-hulls, tightened the new packing gland seal (where the propeller shaft enters the boat), ensured the engine was running well, and told the boatyard staff we were good to go.  We untied the dock lines and started to back away from the dock, when Rob yelled to retie to the dock.  The steering was not responding.  

He quickly realized that he had installed the new steering cables backward.  With no other reasonable options, Captain Rob recalibrated his brain and steered the boat to our slip by turning left to go right, and right to go left.  We had no incident and tied up in our designated slip with ease and surprising calm.  Onlookers could have no idea the stress we held fast inside.  After spending a few days in the marina slip, reversing the steering cables, and saying goodbye to our San Carlos pals, we anchored in the San Carlos harbor to wait for our weather window south.  

Searching for Our Sea Legs

We overestimated our ability to regrow sea legs and sailed out into some uncomfortable waves for our first passage.  That is when we encountered our next crisscross.  We had re-installed the sail reefing lines in reverse (with the shorter line in the longer line’s position and vice versa), making it impossible to fully raise the sail as the shorter reefing lines tugged at it.  The remedy was quick, and we were able to carry on into our first of three nights for the passage.  

The night illuminated (or rather did not) the third crisscross—our stern light was not working.  We had rewired some electrical on the back of the boat, and in the process, reversed the stern light’s wires.  Rob put on his electrician hat and got us back to code for night sailing.  Three nights in rolly conditions, with an autopilot threatening failure because it needed an adjustment that could not be made at sea, was not the ideal reintroduction to sailing.  Our nerves were singed, but our first port was worth it. 

Te Amamos, Mazatlán

Mazatlán is one of our favorite cities to visit.  It is a vibrant place that manages to balance a progressive and creative vibe with reverence for history.  The city center is cobbled streets, lined with ancient architecture, hidden courtyards, brightly colored walls, and funky murals.  The food is phenomenal, the people are welcoming, and we enjoyed some time walking on solid land.  We hiked up to the highest lighthouse in the Americas and winded through the old city streets, finding plenty of fantastic restaurants, postcard-worthy views, ice cream, and even a decent craft brewery along our way.  We hung with our friends on the boat Luna Pacifica, who bore the same taxing passage there.  And we readied ourselves for the next three-day passage. 

Mapache, the Big Fish

The next passage brought with it some different snags.  Some long-line fishermen caught a big fish…Mapache!  We passed over several long-lines on our passage between Mazatlán and Bahía de Banderas and got hung up three times.  Fishermen tie hooks to floating lines that are often miles long.  Each end is marked by a single black flag, which is not easily visible against the backdrop of the dark blue, rolling ocean.  The floats are at water level and are often merely clear water bottles.  The length of the lines and their minimal tells make the lines difficult, and sometimes impossible, to avoid.  But we developed an effective dehooking technique.  

The lines would catch on our keel.  We would grab the line, wrap two sections of it around something sturdy, cut it, pull it out from under the keel, and retie it before letting it back into the water.  We did this for two reasons. First, although we are not fans of long-line fishing, because it creates bycatch, including turtles and sharks, we do not want to punish the individual fishermen.  Second, severing the lines creates potential for it to become lost and add to the dangerous plastic waste already polluting the ocean.  The best we can do is support sustainable fishing methods through economic choices, education programs, and responsible government policies. 

A Place We Call Home

We made it to Bahía de Banderas, where we had reserved a marina slip in our old stomping ground of La Cruz de Huanacaxtle.  La Cruz is where we spent a summer and partial fall, while we waited to sell the original Mapache.  We have many good friends here.  It is one of the several places we call home. 

We arrived at 2 a.m., so we anchored for a few hours in wait of the morning light to enter the marina.  When the sun popped up, we weighed anchor and started motoring toward the marina entrance.  Then, Rob yelled for me to drop the anchor back down.  We had lost propulsion and, therefore, steerage.  

We quickly figured out that something else had snagged Mapache 2.0.  She had caught a large plastic produce/rice bag on her propeller, which had wrapped around and disabled it. (Another reminder of the plastic waste problem.)  Captain Rob jumped overboard and removed Mapache’s catch, we weighed anchor again, we tied up in our designated slip, and we stepped back into the familiar, charming town of La Cruz.