Alright, so lots of new stuff in work for the website, so was distracted from writing this yesterday. You'll have to check back soon!
If you sail, I am sure you are familiar with the apprehension of pulling in somewhere unknown for the first time. Sure, you read the charts and have the GPS up and are standing by your radio. You're even following the directions given to you by the marina...in this case Hotel Corral in Ensenada.
Now, add on two-handing a 37' full-keel sailboat in the fog. In our defense, it was not foggy when we started pulling into Bahia Todos los Santos ("All Saints Bay"). But, by the time we were hitting the fog, it had wrapped around us to the point we were calling on all of the saints to keep us off the rocks. You see, there is this breakwater for Hotel Corral that the GPS wanted us to motor right through. Based on course and speed, we were very close, but didn't want to turn too early, or you miss the tiny entrance. Heading back out to sea to wait out the fog was not an option either due to the heavy shipping traffic moving in and out. We could hear their horns, and turning out would force us South right into their lanes.
What did we do? Well, while my better half manned the tiller, I went to the bow for a Titanic - King of the World moment. I could hear breakers. That was not good. However, I couldn't see anything and we knew we had shoreline to the left as well. I yelled back that I heard them from ahead, and we swapped positions to double-check. Water depth was still good. 5+ feet below the keel...but it would be all the way in we knew. Right after I took the helm, I saw rocks. Not little rocks either. mid-size boulders jutting up ready to eat us. I think that I was already turning, thank the gods for a tiller - will always believe it is a faster method of turning, by the time that I yelled out "Turning starboard, ROCKS!" I am sure it was loud enough to be heard, though it may have been a bit hysterical in tone. It wasn't until I was parallel to the breakwater and breathing again that we could see the rocks from the bow. And then, it was mainly looking down to make sure we weren't getting too close to any that were submerged.
With the initial shock over and the marina three-turn narrow channel up ahead, the fog was lingering. However, to our luck, the marina itself, as we have come to find out on follow up trips, seems to always be an oasis. You pass the entrance marker and the fog stops. Gladly, as I think my nerves were dead.
The lesson this week? Fog is fickle...while you think you should be able to see better from the bow, that is not always the case. Communication is key, and is the primary reason we made it safely. Never assume your bow lookout (or the helm in the other direction) can see anything you do. Yelling works on a 37' barely. I would recommend something else (walkie-talkie like) for bigger or even high winds in smaller boats. You never know what you are going to encounter on a gorgeous day. :)
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