After leaving the serene cove of Caleta Partida, we made a short hop north to Ensenada Candelero. Tucked beneath sandstone cliffs and dotted with striking rock formations, Candelero is known for its dramatic desert-meets-sea scenery and excellent hiking. We had the anchorage entirely to ourselves at first—just us and the turquoise water—until our friends aboard Takuli arrived. By nightfall, however, the solitude was gone and thirteen other boats had joined the party, a reminder that this is one of Isla Espiritu Santo’s most beloved stops. We stretched our legs on the trail to the dry waterfall, a short but scenic hike that rewards you with sweeping views of the bay.
After a couple of days, we headed about 30 minutes south to Ensenada La Raza, a smaller, more remote anchorage often overlooked by cruisers. Here, the solitude returned in full force; we were the only boat in the bay, with nothing but the echo of seabirds against the cliffs. Rich took the opportunity to fly the drone—until a gust sent it crashing into the sheer rock face. With the GPS coordinates in hand, we mounted a “rescue mission,” but the drone was lodged about 90 feet up the cliff, far out of reach. While at La Raza, we put the quiet time to good use, tackling some necessary boat maintenance: changing the rudder zinc, the propeller shaft zinc, and the two zincs on the refrigeration keel cooler.
The next morning, a swell rolled in, making the anchorage uncomfortable. We weighed anchor and aimed for La Paz, but stronger-than-forecast southerly winds turned the passage into a bumpy bash. After a few miles of pounding into the chop, we decided discretion was the better part of valor and turned back toward the island to wait out the weather.
We found shelter in Ensenada El Cardonal, a long, narrow anchorage with excellent protection and room to swing. Cardonal offers a rewarding hike across the island to the east side, where the view opens to the Sea of Cortez. Closse to shore you can spot remnants of what appears to be an old aquaculture facility—a hint of the island’s history before it became a protected national park.
With relatively calm seas the next morning, we finally made the crossing to La Paz, motoring the entire way under a windless sky. The bustling La Paz anchorage was a sharp contrast to the quiet coves of Espiritu Santo. Here, the strong tidal currents create the famous La Paz Waltz, a quirky dance where anchored boats swing in different directions depending on the tide. It’s a lively, social anchorage with easy access to town, but you’ll want to set your anchor well and keep an eye on your neighbors as the current does its unpredictable shuffle.
After weeks of remote anchorages and turquoise coves in the Sea of Cortez, the sight of La Paz felt like reaching an oasis. Our first mission was simple but oddly satisfying: tie up at the dinghy dock at Marina de La Paz, haul our long-overdue trash off the boat (four weeks’ worth!), and stretch our land legs in this vibrant Baja capital.
Anchoring in La Paz requires a little strategy. The main anchorage lies just off the malecón, with good holding in sand but plenty of current from the famous La Paz Waltz—a slow, swirling tidal dance that swings boats in every direction. Give your neighbors generous space and set your hook well. Many cruisers choose to anchor north of the marina or closer to the Magote sand spit for more room and slightly less traffic. The Marina de La Paz itself offers paid slips, but most visiting boats drop the hook and use the marina’s secure dinghy dock for easy town access.
For a small daily fee, the Marina de La Paz dinghy dock is a lifeline. Fresh water for jerry jugs, trash disposal (at last!), and a friendly cruisers’ clubhouse make it the perfect base. After weeks of conserving every plastic wrapper, finally tossing our garbage felt like an almost ceremonial milestone. There’s also fuel, laundry service, and a bulletin board where local sailors post everything from spare parts to dinner meet-ups.
With chores done, we wandered the malecón, a beautifully revitalized waterfront promenade lined with playful marine sculptures, colorful murals, and views of the sparkling bay. La Paz, whose name means “The Peace”, was founded by Spanish explorers in 1535 and later became a key pearl-diving center. John Steinbeck immortalized its lore in The Log from the Sea of Cortez. Today, it retains a laid-back Baja charm while embracing a fresh wave of energy.
In recent years, La Paz has blossomed with new restaurants, cafés, and craft cocktail bars that rival anything in Cabo or Mexico City—without the crowds. From farm-to-table dining at Nim, to inventive seafood at Sorstis, to smoky mezcal margaritas at a hidden rooftop bar, the culinary scene is thriving. Tucked among the historic streets, you’ll also find chic coffee shops, art galleries, and music venues that make lingering ashore irresistible.
La Paz isn’t just a place to drop the hook—it’s where boat projects have a way of finding you. During our stay, our faithful dinghy outboard, a 1998 Mercury 9.9 hp two-stroke, started running rough enough to demand more than a casual look. With the turquoise waters of the Sea of Cortez as our backdrop, we rolled up our sleeves and got to work on a carburetor rebuild.
Rebuilding a carburetor sounds intimidating, but on a small outboard it’s a fairly straightforward job with the right tools and a clean workspace. Here’s what we tackled:
Remove and disassemble the carburetor: After shutting off the fuel and disconnecting the linkage, we carefully separated the carb from the engine.
Clean every passage: Old fuel can leave varnish and tiny clogs. We soaked the jets, float bowl, and passages in carb cleaner and used compressed air to blow out debris.
Replace gaskets and seals: A rebuild kit supplied fresh gaskets, O-rings, and a new needle valve to ensure proper fuel flow.
Reassemble and adjust: With everything spotless, we reassembled the carb and adjusted the idle mixture and throttle stop according to the service manual.
A few pulls of the starter cord later, the Mercury purred like it hadn’t in years. There’s a special satisfaction in knowing your tender’s engine is back to reliable form—especially in a port where a dinghy is your lifeline to shore.
Our plan was to head north after a week, but cruising rarely goes according to schedule. We were expecting important mail from the U.S., and the generally unreliable mail services in La Paz, the package was delayed. Like so many sailors before us, we found ourselves learning the fine art of patience—checking tracking numbers over marina Wi-Fi, strolling the malecón, and making the most of the extra days.
If you’re going to be stuck anywhere, La Paz is a good place to do it. The waterfront is alive with new energy—revitalized restaurants, craft coffee shops, and street art keep every day interesting. Morning walks along the malecón brought us past bronze sea sculptures and fishermen hauling their morning catch. Evenings meant tacos al pastor, icy cervezas, and conversations with fellow cruisers swapping weather reports and engine tips.
What started as a simple engine tune-up turned into a reminder of what cruising is all about: self-sufficiency, flexibility, and savoring the unexpected. Our outboard runs smoother, our patience muscles got a workout, and we left La Paz with not just a repaired carburetor but also a deeper appreciation for this vibrant Baja port.
One of the small luxuries of cruising life is a hot shower after a long day on the water. On our sailboat, we decided to improve that comfort by plumbing our electric water heater into the engine’s coolant loop so we can enjoy hot water whether we’re running the engine or plugged into shore power.
Our boat is powered by a Beta Marine 43 diesel, which, like most marine engines, uses a closed-loop freshwater (glycol) cooling system. When the engine runs, coolant circulates through the engine block and a heat exchanger to maintain temperature. By adding a heat-exchange coil inside the water heater, we can tap into this hot coolant and use engine waste heat to warm our domestic water—perfect for hot showers after a passage or for doing dishes without running the electric heating element.
Before starting, we checked that our Isotemp water heater (the most common type) included an internal heat-exchange coil—most marine heaters do. The Beta 43 has convenient “calorifier” takeoff points on the coolant system, designed for exactly this purpose. These are typically located on the thermostat housing (hot side) and the freshwater pump return (cool side).
Hose Size: Beta specifies 16 mm (5/8”) coolant hose for calorifier connections.
Flow Direction: Hot coolant should enter at the top of the heater coil and return from the bottom to promote good circulation.
Valves & Bypass: Install shutoff valves at the takeoff and return points for maintenance or in case of a leak.
Locate the Takeoffs: On the Beta 43, one fitting is on the thermostat housing (supply), the other on the freshwater pump (return).
Run the Hoses: Route 5/8” reinforced coolant hose from the engine to the water heater coil, using smooth bends and secure clamps to prevent chafe.
Add a Bleed Point: High points in the hose run can trap air, so we added a small bleed screw near the heater to purge bubbles and keep coolant circulating efficiently.
Fill and Test: After connecting, top up the coolant and run the engine at operating temperature. Check for leaks, monitor temperature, and ensure the domestic water warms after 30–60 minutes of motoring.
The first time we motored into an anchorage and found the water heater tank piping hot, we knew the project was worth it. A half-hour of engine run time gives us enough hot water for showers and dishes, without drawing amps from the house bank. When on shore power, the electric element still works as before, giving us the best of both worlds.
Secure Everything: Coolant hoses carry pressure and heat—double clamp every fitting.
Check Zinc & Anodes: Hotter water can accelerate corrosion inside the tank; stay on top of anode changes.
Plan for Service: Valves and unions make future maintenance much easier.