Bahia San Francisquito

Anyone who has been on the sea for any length of time has a story about "a near miss." Ours wasn't as exciting as some of the ones we've heard, but it did get our attention. Coming into the Salsipuedes (get out if you can) Channel about three miles from a safe anchorage in Bahia de San Francisquito, our engine cut out. Out of fuel, we switched to the other tank but not before air got into the fuel line, effectively putting our motor out of commission. The tides are higher in the northern Sea of Cortez and the currents are stronger. We had very little wind and the currents were pulling us in toward the rocks on Punta Santa Teresa. Marv tried bleeding the engine without success (Perkins are notorious for being difficult to bleed!). The sun was setting (the wind usually dies down completely after dusk) and we looked at our options.

We could try turning around and using the little wind we had to get further out to sea and, it would be hoped, spend the night away from land. But with no wind and land within five miles both north and west of us, there was a good chance the currents would pull us in, rather than out.

We could try to anchor off the beach just south of Punta Santa Teresa, but we didn't know how deep it was, what the bottom was like, and how close we could safely get to the shore. There is an anchorage there, tucked in and around the point but we didn't have enough wind to negotiate the turns needed.

We elected to ghost into shore, turned into the wind, drifted toward the point, and dropped our anchor in 55 feet of water. The currents pulled us tight on the anchor, setting it securely for the night. Marv slept like a baby...I was up all night.



Next morning three pangueros, Joel, Alexander, and Esteban, all from Ensenada, who had been diving for sea cucumbers to ship to Japan came to our rescue. They hooked us onto their panga and pulled us through two-foot standing waves just off the point, around the corner and into safe anchorage in the bay. Bob and Patty from the Darkside also turned around on their way to San Carlos and returned to Bahia San Francisquito to spend the day working with Marv to bleed the engine several more times.

But it wasn't until a diesel mechanic/salesman who had flown into this remote anchorage the night before came over and waved a rag with starter fluid fumes on it that the engine deigned to start! Magic.

Magic, also, were the coyotes that howled to the moon and each other, the dolphins that danced around our boat, and the sky that filled with soft, warm, clean light each night.

The lessons learned: local residents and fisherman are an invaluable resource, making cruising safer and richer; the community of cruisers looks out for each other, going out of their way is a natural part of cruising. And, oh, yeah, check your fuel tank more carefully.