Monday Morning, July 2, 2001, San Carlos Marina

On Saturday June 30th, I took the Wanda Sue (my 1985 Oday 222) south to San Carlos, Mexico, on the Sea of Cortez. It felt like the trip of a lifetime: a grand adventure.

The trip down was long. After crossing the border, I made a wrong turn in Nogales, and, instead of skirting the congested downtown area, I went right through. The drivers were very aggressive so I tucked in behind a bus. The Wanda Sue just barely squeezed by. Later I followed Mexican 15, a four lane, divided highway.. At times it was smooth; at other times it was a washboard, and things got pretty shaken. When I arrived in San Carlos I found the fuse in my depth finder was knocked loose.

I stopped for gas at a Pemex station just north of the turn off for San Carlos. The boulevard into town is a long straight road pointed straight at the twin peaks, Tetas de Cabra, which tower above the harbor.

The marina is very modern and the inner harbor is intimate; the outer harbor has long-term moorings. There are shops all around and the facilities are great.

I arrived at sunset and the marina was closed so I turned around and found a nice little hotel on the main road. As luck would have it, Esperanza (a Catalina 25 from Lake Pleasant, Arizona) was parked in back. While I was parking the Wanda Sue, Esperanza’s owners, the Bombergs, pulled in. Dennis, at the sailboat shop, had mentioned they might be there. They rolled down the window of their pickup truck, introduced themselves, I hopped in and off we went to dinner at Blackies.

Blackies was a wonderful restaurant. The meal was elegant, extremely tasty, and very reasonable. I enjoyed a salad, sea bass, asparagus, and a glass of white zinfandel, vanilla cake, and a black Russian for about $12 US. During dinner I showered questions on the Bombergs who have been sailing here since 1995. They were just finishing a week’s cruise and were very gracious. I went over my float plan and they made some suggestions.

Sunday morning I packed the Wanda Sue with the cargo from the Trooper and towed her to the Marina. I was having some trouble stepping my mast when an old Mexican who works at the Marina offered to lend me a hand. I invited him aboard and the mast was quickly raised. Too quickly I suppose. I didn’t get the wind vane or the topping lift installed. No real problem. If I don’t know which direction the wind is blowing, I’m a pretty poor sailor and I can continue using the pigtail topping lift on the backstay.

I decided to get a slip and spend the day walking around town since I needed a day to decompress. It was very hot (my thermometer says over 100) but the thing you notice most is the humidity. Even the fish don’t know if they should swim above or below the water. I was the only sailor yesterday but there were many sport fishermen out to catch marlin, tuna and Dorado.

I had a nice lunch at 3:00 (grilled chicken), a long siesta from which I thought I would never awaken, and a big dinner about 8:30 (lobster, shrimp, sea bass). After dinner I was still tired so I turned in early.

Monday Morning, July 2, 2001

San Carlos Marina. The sunrise was glorious. Not a breath of wind and the water was inky black. It was a reflecting pond of ships and masts and mountains. In the distance I could hear thunder and big clouds were billowing overhead.

I stopped at the fuel dock to fill my spare can -- an extra five gallons “just in case,” then motored out the long neck of an entrance to the harbor of San Carlos. I engaged the auto-tiller for the first time and it worked beautifully. While “Ray” (the auto-tiller is made by Raytheon) steered, I sorted out the fenders, coiled the lines, and checked my course. As we approached the entrance, we finally began to get some ocean swells. It was a new experience for me and took some getting used to. At last we were past the point and I raised the mainsail. We were on a southern course (towards Guaymas) close hauled. When I was comfortable with that, I unfurled the Genoa and we took off on a 15-degree heel, cutting diagonally across the waves. Ray continued to steer while I took pictures and sorted things out. I was very tempted just to go for it but I decided to be prudent and changed tacks to a downwind run for Martini Cove. I’m still not comfortable anchoring so I wanted lots of time to get it right.

Martini Cove is beautiful. There are steep cliffs on three sides and Lion Island protects the fourth (southern) side. I dove on the anchor (14 feet) and re-set her flukes, and then I paid out sixty feet of rode and relaxed. Snorkeling, I quickly found enough clams and scallops for dinner, but decided not to eat them (too much work).

Throughout the afternoon others joined me in the anchorage. A family of Mexicans, a couple of dive boats on a day tour, a Cal 30 from Scottsdale, but by sundown, I was alone.A nearly full moon rose over the gray-brown cliffs of Islote Leon (“Lion Island.”). A flight of pelicans soared overhead. A cool breeze offered relief from a very hot day. I pulled my little TV/VCR out of the cabin and watched “Raising Arizona” while I ate Ramen.

I tried sleeping in the v-berth, the quarter-berth, on deck, basically anywhere. The anchor alarm kept sounding. It was set for ten feet and as the boat swung I often crossed a place that was eight feet deep. I was so tired; it was easier just to push the “snooze” button than dig out the instructions. I did this several times and finally drifted off to a deep sleep on the v-berth. At 3:00 I was awakened suddenly. The alarm was going off and a high wind had come up. The moon was gone and I could see lightning in the distance. I put some clothes on and my life preserver and waited for the storm. It never materialized over my cove but the ocean became very angry. Even in the dark I could see the white plumes of the waves crashing on the rocks on either side of my protective island.

Tuesday, July 03, 2001

By morning the ocean was still rough so I decided to spend another day in my cove. I did some chores, cleaned out the port locker, tightened some screws and went for a swim. I also took a couple of naps, read the depth gauge instruction manual, and dove on the anchor a couple of times. Three more boats anchored next to me. They were day-trippers and kept crossing my anchor line. One tried to swing into me and warned me that the Wanda Sue was drifting. I muttered something and must have given him the right look because they pulled their hook and re-set it where they should have in the first place.

Well, I spoke too soon. In the afternoon another Mexican dive boat pulled in too close to the Wanda Sue and side swiped me. Then he pulled up my anchor with his anchor line. While all this was going on, three of his clients decided to go swimming off the stern. He pulled his anchor and took off, leaving a father, son and daughter stranded! As luck would have it, they swam to a couple of rocks at the foot of the island to wait but the little girl stepped on some corral and cut her foot pretty bad. Then all three of them got tangled up in some jellyfish so I slipped on my fins, grabbed a couple of seat cushions and dove in. I took the little girl in tow and swam the three of them out to the wayward dive boat. They were very grateful.

The seas were still very rough but by four o’clock I decided I better head back to the marina. I hailed them on the VHF, got a dock assignment and pulled my anchor. This isn’t an easy task when you are by yourself. I got the outboard started, let Ray hold the tiller straight and I caught the anchor line. I pulled it from the side and then headed for the open sea. I pulled my hat on tight, slipped on my PFD and tether, cranked the outboard up full and we charged into the waves. It was a new experience! It is very strange to see walls of water on both sides of you. I was taking the waves on the bow and the Wanda Sue would climb up the face of the wave, totter on the crest and then we would slide down into the trough only to do it all again. I had the tiller in one hand and the jack line in the other. When I got out far enough, I needed to turn back towards the harbor. The only place to do that was down in the valley between the waves and I prayed the wave wouldn't break. It was very interesting. That maneuver completed, the Wanda Sue and I surfed into the channel. A wild ride.

After things “calmed down” a bit, I pulled anchor and headed back I found the slip, cleaned her up then took a long shower and went to dinner. It was wonderful. Afterwards, I collapsed in the v-berth and went into a deep sleep. I ached all over but felt very happy.

Wednesday, July 04, 2001

A beautiful day with high thin clouds and a slight wind from the north; I grabbed some breakfast and set out again. I had a wonderful sail, close hauled into a southern wind. We made it to a delightful little anchorage called “Chencho” eleven miles southeast of San Carlos. The bay offered excellent protection from the southerly winds and swells. The bottom was sand and held very well. I anchored in seventeen feet of water and watched the pelicans and cormorants. Behind me in the long curve of the beach is Miramar -- an exclusive resort community that I understand was once favored by the Hollywood crowd. Closest to me, on a cliff, are the white buildings of a technical school and in front of me.

I spent the afternoon doing odd chores. I finally added the remote control for Ray so I could sit here in the cabin, sipping a drink, eating canned peaches and tell Ray my wishes.

The sunset was glorious. I took a lot of pictures and I think they will turn out to be my finest. However, as the sun was setting, huge thunderheads were building to the north behind San Carlos. I was afraid they would come my way as the winds shift at sundown so I battened down the hatches, stowed everything in it’s place and slept on the quarter berth with the hatch open so I would wake up in case of trouble. At 3:00 I went out on deck again and the sea was mirror smooth. The storm had moved inland and the full moon made it like day. I ate something and just sat for awhile listening to the silence. It was very moving. Then I opened the hatches and stretched out on the v-berth for some solid sleep. A light wind picked up just before dawn and I actually pulled the sleeping bag over me!

Thursday, July 05, 2001

Today is my birthday and I am becalmed about 3 miles off the coast just south of San Carlos. I’m crawling north on an occasional breath of south wind. Meanwhile the Wanda Sue rocks and her rigging groans. She wants to be sailing again with her jib and main full. Instead, I sit below letting Ray mind the rudder.

Monday, July 10, 2001

I’m writing this from the Casa Grande hospital. The last four days have been a bit of a blur. On Friday morning, the wind came up quickly from the south and I had to roll up the jib. Then, with just the main, we made over five knots with a following sea. I quickly passed San Carlos and Martini Cove and pulled in to the southern end of “Catch 22” beach, near Marina Real. It was very easy to set the hook in twenty feet of water. It held great in the sand and allowed me to pop the top on an IBC Root Beer and toast by 48th birthday. Club Med is on the northern end of the long, curving bay and a resort condominium community was directly across from me. I rocked at anchor for a while and watched the jet skis racing around and around. It sounded like I was back at my marina on Lake Pleasant, Arizona. It was pretty but I had had enough.

Sometime during the rescue of the little girl, her father and brother, I got a small puncture wound on my left knee. It didn’t seem significant. I get little scrapes and cuts on the rigging all the time. Unfortunately, I didn’t know this one was going to be a grand infection. As I sat in the bay, my knee was getting stiff and warm. I rubbed it and decided to go to Blackies for dinner rather than sit here in this far too crowded bay.

The challenge was beating to windward. The wind was coming directly from the place I wanted to go. That meant I would have to sail a zigzag course back and forth to get home to the Marina. There was no time to waste, so at noon I pulled the hook and started directly out to sea. It was a wild ride but I was feeling very cocky and satisfied when I turned on my final leg into the harbor. It was a grand feeling to come back with my sails flying.

I pulled into my slip at the marina and paid for another night at the office. I was starting to feel bad, so I changed my mind and asked them to pull the Wanda Sue out.. It felt funny riding in the cockpit of my sailboat as the tractor towed us down main street to the dry storage facility. I felt like a Rose Bowl queen riding a float.

Leaving the Wanda Sue in the yard, I booked a room back at the hotel and took a long, cool shower. Then I put on clean clothes and began to take stock. My cash was running low. I’d need to find a bank or ATM soon.

After another dinner at Blackie's, my knee was really starting to get hot but the cool sheets, a good bed, another shower, and air conditioning made for a great sleep.

Friday, July 6, 2001

The yard opened at 7:30. I grabbed a quick shower to wake up, put on work clothes and quickly stashed everything below in a very haphazard way. I threw a rope on the jib stay and lowered the mast into her cradle. I knew I was working against the clock now. I had a long way to go but there was one more stop I needed to make on the way out of town; the bank. Unfortunately, they couldn’t help me. I was stuck with just the cash in my pockets and three tollbooths between San Carlos and the border. It was going to be close!

I took one more shower, turned in the key and I’m on my way to Phoenix. My leg was getting more painful by the minute. I tried not to think about using the clutch and we started north. Twice I stopped as chills set in. Once the pain was so bad I had to shout. It was going to be a long drive. Fortunately, all of the Mexican checkpoints flagged me through and I made all the stoplights in Hermasilla. I stopped at a Pemex station to relieve myself but they wanted two pesos (10 cents). I drove on. It was going to be close. I needed some ice but I couldn’t afford it. On I drove. Finally I reached the American checkpoint in Nogales but the line was long. Every push of the clutch was pure pain. Then the “low fuel” light came on and I turned off the air conditioner. At last I reached the booth and the Americans wanted to search my boat! I told him I was sick but from the look in his eyes I could tell he was suspicious so I opened the door and dragged myself along the trooper to the boat. By the time I had climbed the ladder into the cockpit I had to be the world’s greatest actor or I really was sick. He asked if I wanted them to call the paramedics. I thanked him, gave him the key to the hatch and sat down. After a cursory look around, he wished me well as I started north.

Thankfully, there was a Shell station just a quarter mile beyond. I had made it north with $3 dollars to spare. The best .89 cents I ever spent was for a bag of ice there. It made the drive to Tucson possible. Unfortunately, I was headed to Phoenix. By the time I reached Eloy, I was dripping in sweat and shivering so badly I couldn’t drive. I pulled into a truck stop along side some eighteen-wheelers and tried to go to sleep. I just couldn’t get comfortable. I needed to call someone but my cell phone was dead and the cable was in the Wanda Sue but when I opened the car door, I knew it was trouble. I could no longer take any weight on my left leg.

Now I was very afraid. I pulled myself along side the boat and somehow got up the ladder. Unfortunately I had just thrown everything in the cabin and it was such a mess, there was no way I would ever find the cell phone cable. I sat in the cockpit and shivered in the dark wondering what to do next.

About that time a trucker and his wife were walking towards their rig. I called out to them and they were so helpful! They called the paramedics who quickly arrived and drove me to the emergency room fifteen miles away. Casa Grande General may be the only hospital between Tucson and Phoenix, but they were wonderful. My temperature was over 104 and the fluid sac behind my kneecap was infected. The doctor inserted a needle into my knee and drew out the puss. Then they wrapped it up, started me on some antibiotics, and put me in a room.

In the morning, when they took off the bandage wrapping, the infection had spread dramatically. My knee was the size of a grapefruit.

For the next two days, they pumped antibiotics through me and although it helped, by Monday it was clear they would have to open the knee up and clean it out. On Monday afternoon they gave me a general anesthetic and operated. For the next seven days we fought the infection in the hospital but at last I was graduated from a walker, to crutches to a cane and I was able to go home.

Was it worth it? Without a doubt! I don’t have the words to describe the feeling out on the water. Everything is alive. Your eyes are constantly searching the waves, the clouds, the sails. Your ears are tuned so that any change in the rigging or the weather is quickly answered. The boat works in harmony with her environment and comes alive. She takes on a personality. I might have been sailing “single-handed” but I was never alone.

Now when will this leg heel so I can do it again!