After two weeks in Ramada, it was finally time to point Ramble On north for the summer. We had big plans to spend the entire summer exploring the northern Sea of Cortez. The Sea, however, had a few other ideas.
We’d planned to get an early start, but apparently our definition of early wasn’t quite the same as everyone else’s.
As we were finishing our coffee, we heard Greg on Sweet Dreams raising his mainsail and Tim on Coconut weighing anchor. We stepped outside to discover that the anchorage was nearly empty. The only boat left besides us was Remedy, with Baron and Heather aboard. Even their mizzen sail was already up.
Well, apparently we’d be bringing up the rear.
But not for long!
As soon as we left the anchorage, we found a lovely 10-knot breeze right on the beam. With the mainsail, jib, and staysail all flying, Ramble On was trucking along at five knots. Before long, we’d caught up with Remedy and sailed right past them as if they were standing still. Coconut and Sweet Dreams were still ahead, but at least we weren’t the slow kids in the class anymore.
Our destination was Santo Domingo anchorage on the south side of Bahía Concepción, and it turned out to be a nearly nine-hour day on the water. The wind kept us guessing. We had a great start, followed by a spell of nothing much. Crossing Bahía San Nicolás, we picked up a nice breeze, but the angle wasn’t quite right, so we had to tack a couple of times. Then the wind lightened again as we sailed up the Concepción peninsula.
We even attempted to fly the spinnaker, but the wind was just too light to make it worthwhile. Eventually, we gave up and motored around the point into Santo Domingo.
We’d never anchored there before and expected it to be little more than a convenient place to spend the night. As it turned out, we’d stumbled onto a pretty fantastic dive spot.
At first glance, the rocky reef didn’t look like it would have much going on. But looks can be deceiving. I saw more baby triggerfish than I’d ever seen in one place. At one point, there were probably a few hundred of them swimming around.
The real prize, though, was the schools of golden trevally, also known as yellow jacks. They’re one of our favorite fish for sashimi, so finding them in good numbers was a pretty exciting discovery.
The water was a little murky, but that didn’t stop us. We make a pretty good spearfishing team: I’m the spotter, and Rich is the shooter. Between the two of us, we managed to fill our freezer with fish.
Naturally, we told Baron and Heather about the bounty, and they wanted in on the action.
Over our months of spearfishing in the Sea of Cortez, we’d noticed something strange about yellow jacks. When one gets shot, another will often swim over to investigate what happened to its buddy. Apparently, yellow jacks aren’t particularly good at learning from the mistakes of others. They practically volunteer to be the next target.
Unfortunately, there’s a small logistical problem with this behavior. Once Rich has a fish on his spear, he can’t exactly shoot another one.
This time, though, we came up with a solution.
Baron shot a yellow jack and let it struggle on the line just long enough for a second jack to come in for a closer look. Sure enough, the curious fish showed up, and Rich was able to line up a shot.
Success!
It was hilarious, and between the two boats, we had fish for days. Apparently, teamwork really does make the dream work. Or, in this case, the sashimi work.
Yellow jacks weren’t the only fish on the menu, either. Rich also brought home a pompano and a barred pargo. Not bad for an anchorage we’d originally picked simply because it was a convenient place to drop the hook.
After a few days at Santo Domingo, it was time to head farther north to Sweet Pea anchorage on Isla San Marcos.
As we left Santo Domingo, a bank of fog rolled across the bay. It was the first fog we’d encountered in the Sea of Cortez, and there was something a little eerie about watching it creep across the water. Once it lifted, the swell picked up, making the ride a bit uncomfortable.
We passed Punta Chivato, one of our favorite anchorages, and headed through Craig Channel. We’d always gone around the eastern side of Isla San Marcos, so this was our first time taking the shallow route through the channel. I think the shallowest water we saw was around 25 feet, which was plenty comfortable for us.
On the other side, we sailed into Sweet Pea anchorage. Three boats were already there, but there was still plenty of room for us, Coconut, Sweet Dreams, and Remedy to spread out.
We spent a couple of days exploring the caves and enjoying the crystal-clear water. Rich also decided to take a dive on a pinnacle about 45 feet deep. For a freediver, that’s a pretty serious descent.
On the way down, he took two shots at yellowtail jacks and missed both. Then he spotted a monster amberjack.
He took the shot and nailed it.
Unfortunately, the fish had other plans. It bolted straight into the rocks, disappearing into a tangle of structure so deep that Rich couldn’t even see where it had gone.
He headed for the surface, just in time to meet his float as it came screaming down toward him. The fish was pulling so hard that the float was being dragged underwater. Rich managed to grab it and get back to the surface, where I was waiting in the dinghy.
And so began the next phase of our little fishing adventure: an hour of trying to convince a very large fish to leave its rocky hiding place.
We tried everything we could think of, but that amberjack was determined to stay right where it was. Finally, we enlisted the help of a pangero. He tied off our line and gunned his motor, hoping to pull the fish free.
Instead, the line broke.
The fish escaped, and we lost a spear shaft in the process. We did manage to recover Rich’s float and float line, so at least we didn’t lose absolutely everything.
Still, that was one very expensive fish that we never actually got to eat.
The next day, we sailed the ten miles to Santa Rosalía. Along the way, we encountered a huge pod of dolphins crossing our path.
Usually, dolphins are happy to come over and check us out, but these guys weren’t interested in us at all. They seemed to have somewhere important to be. They were heading northeast while we were heading northwest, and they crossed our bow with the determination of commuters trying to get to work on time.
We spent about a week in Santa Rosalía taking care of the unglamorous but necessary business of cruising. We got the laundry done, washed the boat, and stocked up on provisions for our planned summer in the northern Sea of Cortez.
With the boat clean and the pantry full, we were ready to get back out there.
From Santa Rosalía, we sailed north to Trinidad for the night, then continued on to San Francisquito. We left Santa Rosalía with Greg on Sweet Dreams and Tim on Coconut, but Tim’s engine problems forced him to turn back.
The rest of us continued north.
San Francisquito is one of those places where it’s easy to settle in and lose track of time. We anchored in the small, protected caleta, and Remedy joined us the following day.
The most exciting discovery was the yellowtail. They were everywhere in the bay, in numbers we’d never seen there before.
We took the dinghy out and started trolling. We hadn’t been at it for more than about 15 minutes when we hooked a 16-pound yellowtail. That’s the kind of fishing trip we like: minimal effort, maximum return.
The Mexican fishermen were also taking advantage of the schools, using nets to scoop up the fish. It was a little sad to watch, especially with so many fish concentrated in one place.
We spent a week or so in San Francisquito, meeting new people, cooking on the beach, and enjoying the company of other cruisers. Everyone seemed to be catching yellowtail.
One of the best parts was reconnecting with our friends Travis and Roz on Yasume. We hadn’t seen them in more than a year, so it was great to catch up.
San Francisquito was shaping up to be exactly what we’d hoped for from our summer in the northern Sea of Cortez: good diving, good fishing, beach gatherings, and plenty of time with friends.
From San Francisquito, we headed to Isla Las Ánimas with Sweet Dreams and Remedy.
Las Ánimas is part of the Midriff Islands, a spectacular area where conditions can be a little unpredictable. We had a fantastic sail over, but the anchorage turned out to be rather rolly. After one night of being tossed around, we’d had enough and moved on to Quemado.
Quemado was new to us, and we were glad we stopped. The beach was pretty rocky, but the reef was fun to dive, which is really all we ask of an anchorage.
From there, we headed to Bahía de los Ángeles to pick up groceries. It’s the only town on the Baja side of the northern Sea of Cortez, making it an important stop for cruisers who need to restock before heading back into the more remote anchorages.
After provisioning, we anchored at La Mona and then Don Juan, visiting more friends along the way.
By this point, we’d been having a wonderful summer. We’d explored new anchorages, found fish, dived reefs, and spent time with old and new friends. Our original plan was to stay in the northern Sea of Cortez for the entire summer.
But there was a problem.
Actually, there were several.
Summer in the northern Sea of Cortez is not for the faint of heart. The heat was relentless, and the bees, mosquitoes, and jejenes (those tiny biting no-see-ums) seemed determined to make sure we never forgot we were there.
Then there was the boredom. Even with all the exploring, diving, fishing, and socializing, there comes a point when you’re ready for a change of scenery.
And we weren’t the only ones suffering. Our cat, Twitchell, was probably having an even worse time than we were. At least we could jump in the water to cool off. She didn’t have quite the same options.
Eventually, we admitted defeat. The plan to spend the entire summer in the northern Sea of Cortez was officially abandoned, and we pointed Ramble On toward Puerto Peñasco to haul the boat out for a few months.
Of course, we couldn’t head straight there without one more stop.
On the way to Puerto Peñasco, we anchored at Refugio and stayed for a week or so. It turned out to be a fantastic place to spend our final days in the water.
The diving was amazing. We’d never seen so many turtles in one place, and the grouper were everywhere. It was the kind of underwater scenery that makes you forget about the heat, the bugs, and the fact that you’re supposed to be heading somewhere else.
We enjoyed several excellent days of diving before the visibility took a dramatic turn for the worse. The water went from wonderful to downright lousy, and that was enough to make the decision for us.
It was time to go.
We pulled anchor and began the roughly 100-mile trek to the boatyard in Puerto Peñasco.
Our summer in the northern Sea of Cortez hadn’t gone exactly according to plan. We’d lost a spear shaft to a monster amberjack, discovered new anchorages, eaten an unreasonable amount of yellowtail, reconnected with old friends, and spent a whole lot of time underwater.
We’d also sweated through enough heat and bug bites to last us a while.
But that’s cruising. Sometimes the best memories come from the places you never planned to visit, the fish that get away, and the anchorages you stumble upon by accident. And sometimes, the best cruising decision you can make is knowing when it’s time to haul the boat out and give yourself — and your cat — a break.
So long, northern Sea of Cortez. You were beautiful, bountiful, occasionally uncomfortable, and absolutely unforgettable.
Now, about that amberjack… we still think about the one that got away.
