Balandra • Isla Carmen • Isla Monserrate • San Marte • San Evaristo • Isla San José • Isla San Francisco
Cruising the Sea of Cortez has taught us one very important lesson:
The plan is merely a suggestion.
We had a general idea of where we were headed when we left Balandra near Loreto. Then the weather changed. Friends moved anchorages. Fish appeared. Bugs attacked. Someone said, “Hey, we’re just a few miles over there.”
And suddenly we were going somewhere completely different.
So come along for another stretch of Ramble On as we work our way south through the Loreto islands.
We were anchored in Balandra with maybe six other boats. The water was completely flat and calm, and it was one of those mornings when the Sea of Cortez looked less like an ocean and more like an enormous swimming pool.
Then, from down below, we started hearing fish hitting the hull.
At first we weren’t sure what we were hearing.
Then we realized there was a massive bait ball directly underneath us.
Apparently the bait fish had chosen Ramble On as their temporary safe house.
Unfortunately for them, the tuna and yellowtail had also found us.
The bait ball would suddenly erupt as the predators charged through it. Thousands of tiny fish would twist and turn together, flashing silver in the sunlight as the whole school changed direction at once.
It was mesmerizing.
And just when we thought we’d seen the whole show, a flock of birds nearby started diving into the water in perfect synchrony.
We didn’t have to go anywhere to watch wildlife.
We just had to sit on the boat and wait for dinner to arrive.
For someone.
Not necessarily us.
We took the dinghy ashore with our friends on Emerald Sea for a hike.
The Baja desert was having one of those days when it looks almost unreal.
The desert around Loreto is incredibly stark and beautiful — giant cardón cactus, volcanic rock, scrubby vegetation and mountains dropping toward impossibly blue water.
We saw vultures sitting on the rocks nearby, apparently waiting patiently for something to die.
They were probably disappointed.
We climbed to the top of a hill and were rewarded with a spectacular view over Balandra.
From up there, you could see the entire bay and its crystal-clear blue water. Across the Loreto Channel, the Baja mainland stretched along the horizon, and the town of Loreto was clearly alive with activity.
We were looking at two completely different worlds.
Down there: restaurants, cars, people and civilization.
Up here: vultures, cactus and a bunch of sailors who thought hiking uphill in the desert was a good idea.
We preferred our side.
After a few days in Balandra, we moved over to Coronado Island for a night and then continued to Salinas on the east side of Isla Carmen.
Salinas is home to an old salt mine, and the salt flats are seriously impressive.
Salt has been harvested here for centuries, and the commercial salt operation eventually became an important industry before closing in the 1980s. Today, the old salt works and enormous salt flats remain as reminders of that history.
But it’s the salt itself that really grabs your attention.
As seawater evaporates, the dissolved minerals become increasingly concentrated until salt crystals begin forming. Eventually, layers of salt build up into thick crusts across the flats.
And they aren’t just white.
Depending on the conditions, parts of the flats can be brilliant white, pale pink, orange or reddish. Some of the pink and red colors come from salt-loving microorganisms that thrive in these hypersaline environments.
The result looks like somebody spilled a giant box of colored chalk across the desert.
We wandered around the salt flats, admiring all the strange little formations and patterns created as the salt crystallized and dried.
Then we went to the beach.
Because apparently one spectacular landscape wasn’t enough.
Salinas has a really long, beautiful white-sand beach, and the combination of the salt flats, desert mountains and turquoise water makes it one of those places that doesn’t seem quite real.
Or at least that’s what we thought.
From Salinas we headed a few miles south toward Colorado anchorage, where we’ve been before. There wasn’t much wind, so we were motoring along when a message came over from our friends on Remedy.
They were at Isla Monserrate.
Just a few miles farther south. We’d never been there.
Hmmm.
Well…
Obviously we had to go there.
This is how cruising plans get made.
We changed course.
On the way, we dragged our handlines behind the boat and eventually caught a black skipjack tuna.
Now, we have caught black skipjack before. We don’t eat them. They taste terrible.
But this one had a little something extra going on.
As we pulled it toward the boat, we could see that a shark had already eaten about half of it.
Then we spotted the shark. A little mako, probably around five feet long, was following behind us.
Apparently our trolling technique had successfully created a mobile shark-feeding station.
We got the fish off the hook and tossed it overboard. The mako happily finished the job.
We continued on to Isla Monserrate.
We anchored near the southern end of the island in about 30 feet of water, and the visibility was fantastic.
The water was so clear we could see all the way to the bottom. And, most importantly, we got to hang out with Remedy again.
On Christmas Eve, Rich took the dinghy trolling and came back with a yellowtail.
Now that’s a fish we like.
We kept half and shared the other half with Remedy.
Fresh yellowtail for Christmas Eve dinner, enjoyed with friends in the middle of the Sea of Cortez.
Not a bad way to spend Christmas.
After a couple of nights, we moved on to San Marte with Remedy.
Getting into San Marte requires paying attention because there’s a big rocky reef along the entrance.
We were carefully picking our way toward the anchorage when a huge National Geographic ship hailed us.
They wanted to know if we were heading into the anchorage.
Yep. We were. And so were they.
They were nice enough to let us go in first.
San Marte turned out to be another fantastic diving stop.
We spent several days exploring the reefs and met some new cruising friends on Silver Linings.
There was great diving, good company and beautiful water.
Basically, the usual problem:
We didn’t want to leave.
But eventually the weather and the calendar win.
Next stop: San Evaristo.
San Evaristo is a small fishing village tucked into a protected bay. It’s one of those places that hasn’t been overrun by tourism, and that’s part of its charm.
There’s a tiny tienda where you can pick up a few essentials and a restaurant that will prevent you from starving to death. We’ll leave it at that.
The reef, however, is another story.
It’s full of fish.
Rich went spearfishing and came back with several golden trevally, one of our favorite fish for sashimi.
Fresh fish, warm water and a beautiful anchorage. We were doing just fine.
From San Evaristo we crossed the channel to Isla San José and anchored at Amortajada at the far southern end.
Remedy and Silver Linings were already there, so our little cruising fleet was reunited.
The big attraction at Amortajada is the enormous mangrove lagoon.
At high tide, we took the dinghy through the cut at the southern end and entered the mangrove.
And suddenly everything went quiet.
Inside the mangrove, the water was almost completely still.
Outside, the wind was blowing and waves were rolling across the Sea of Cortez.
The water wasn’t especially clear, but we saw lots of birds, small fish and a big turtle.
The drone footage really showed the contrast. From above, the boundary between the calm water inside the mangrove and the wind and waves outside was almost comically obvious.
It looked like someone had drawn a line across the water.
Rich also dove a rocky reef near the anchorage and found it loaded with barred pargo.
He shot several to fill the refrigerator.
So far, Amortajada was checking all the boxes.
Then came the no-see-ums.
And they checked a box of their own:
Things that will make Rich leave an otherwise beautiful anchorage.
They were eating him alive.
After only two nights, we’d had enough.
The north wind was still blowing, so the original plan was to head back north to San Evaristo.
But once we got outside Amortajada, we reconsidered.
San Evaristo was north. The wind was coming from the north. Which meant we’d be beating into it.
Isla San Francisco was south. Only about four miles away.
Easy decision.
We turned south.
Remedy hailed us to tell us we were going the wrong way. We told them plans changed. They decided to head to San Evaristo anyway.
They made it about two miles into the wind before apparently deciding that this was a stupid idea.
They turned around. And followed us to Isla San Francisco.
We like to think of this as leadership. They might describe it differently.
We’ve anchored at Isla San Francisco many times, and it remains one of our favorite stops.
The island has a great hike that crosses the island and then follows the ridgeline.
From up there, the views are spectacular.
White beaches.
Blue water.
Barren desert mountains.
Perfect.
We spent a couple of days enjoying the island while keeping an eye on the weather.
The forecast showed some west wind coming, and San Evaristo offers much better protection from the west.
So…
Guess where we went?
Yep.
Back to San Evaristo.
We anchored near town in preparation for the forecasted north wind, which seemed like a perfectly reasonable plan. Unfortunately, the wind hadn’t kicked in yet and the southeast swell had other ideas and was rolling right into the anchorage.
So we did something we’ve never done before: we went around to the other side of town.
Yep. When your anchorage gets uncomfortable and rolly, just up-anchor and move. Easy.
The north side of San Evaristo, only 1.7 miles from the main town anchorage, has a long, steep beach, and the water gets surprisingly deep right off shore. We dropped the anchor in about 20 feet of water just off the beach. With no wind and the southeast swell blocked by the headland, the water was wonderfully calm.
This side of town has salt ponds and a small cemetery, so naturally we decided to take a walk and see what we could find. We followed the road, passing donkeys and cows along the way. The locals didn’t seem particularly impressed by us, but then again, the donkeys probably see cruisers come and go all the time.
We stopped at the tienda for a few things and then hiked over to the main town anchorage to see what was happening on the other side. Apparently, not much. Which was fine with us.
After spending the night on the north side, the southeast swell had finally settled down. So we pulled up the anchor and headed back around to the main anchorage.
Once back in San Evaristo, Rich went trolling along the reef.
And came back with a beautiful mahi-mahi.
And honestly, it’s a pretty good place to stop.
Because that’s cruising in the Sea of Cortez.
You leave an anchorage.
You hear fish hitting your hull.
You hike through the desert.
You find salt flats that look like another planet.
You change your destination because your friends are somewhere you’ve never been.
You catch a tuna that’s already half-eaten by a shark.
You watch a mako finish dinner behind your boat.
You dive reefs full of fish.
You get attacked by microscopic insects.
You change your destination again.
You follow your friends.
Your friends follow you.
You catch yellowtail for Christmas.
And eventually Rich catches a mahi-mahi.
Not necessarily in that order.
The best part is that none of it was really planned.
And that’s probably why we like it.
The Sea of Cortez has a funny way of making the itinerary for you.
You just have to be willing to pull up the anchor and see where it takes you.
Until next time,
Fair winds from Ramble On.
