So, we were finally heading south. With good refrigeration and a big watermaker, and only two of us aboard, we assessed our situation and decided that energy was what we lacked. We're both in our 50's and we just don't have the overnight umph we used to have. So we decided to 'gunkhole' it down the coast. That means trying to stop when we can, and not push it. We found we could do it, and easily, as long as the wind held from the north. We ducked into a small cover each night, making a nice dinner and relaxing. In this way, we saw Baja like few others have, staying in little coves where only a deserted fish camp or battery-powered village existed.

We seemed to take way too many photos of sunsets on this leg of the trip. After all, at 5-6 knots, it's not like your going anywhere while the show is going on. This is about the time of night the wind really picked up. We had to find a safe haven by five pm or face the building fury of the afternoon northeries. We'd blow into our nightly cove, have a hell of a time getting the hook down, and then as soon as we were tight, the wind would stop!

Nancy makes yet another great dinner in the galley. How does she do it?

Proper meals are always the norm with her, even if she's cold, tired and fed up with the entire deal.

What's this man doing? Larry's pirate getup was the result of loosing his best hat overboard. And sunny skies in the subtropics are deadly on bald heads. In Turtle Bay, first real Port of Call 350 miles from San Diego, there wasn't a single hat to be bought, so a friendly Mexican gave one to his "amigo." That one said 'Latitudes and Attitudes' and lasted the rest of the trip, only to be blown overboard thousands of miles to the north in Port Townsend Bay!

Colnette Anchorage, a peaceful place by morning, but we came in by pitch-black night and only anchored when the radar told us we were still a quarter mile off the surf-bound beach. This beautiful place will soon be the new super-port for off-loading Chinese goods, bypassing LA as the Port of Entry. Way to go!

Wildlife was as abundant as we'd ever seen it, and seemingly unaware of our presence. Dolpin families patroled the shoreline, an osprey family patroled the cliffs above, returning to a big nest near dozens of cormorants. And on shore, dozens of sea lions dozed. We took the dingy ashore and I almost stepped on this little female. She seemed unaware we was even there, and never did move.

Turtle Bay, the only 'town' on the entire west coast of Baja between Ensenada and Cabo. It's 350 miles south of San Diego, and reached by a 100 miles of dirt road to the main Baja highway. This family runs the fuel dock, where you have to anchor, back down and tie Med-style to take on fuel. Money is handed up via a coffee can. They were more worried about fuel spills here than any US marina we've ever been in.

The town is mostly dirt roads, and we had to come ashore through the surf in the dingy. Still, we came ashore, walked a block and found a delightful family cafe that served taco burgers, whatever that is. We were the guest celibs that got the bottle of taco sauce, shared then by everyone in the place who came over to 'borrow' the bottle.

This guy thought he'd become our local guide and helper (for some $$ of course). He hauled our crummy laundry over to his relative's house, and while that was going on he showed us the wine shop (with at least 12 bottles total), and provided Larry with the new hat. (In all of Turtle Bay, not one hat store was to be found.)

Another 300 miles and after several more days plus an overnighter we arrived at Mag Bay, a huge bay the size of San Francisco Bay. Hundreds of dolphins greeted us, dozens of frigate birds and even an osprey that tried to land on the mainmast top. We've never seen so much great wildlife concentrated in one place. And almost no people. To see even one boat a day was an event.

Mag Bay

These are ALL shells. Literally millions of them, probably shucked by hundreds of years of Indians, then Mexicans, coming to this safe anchorage to rest and eat. At the bay's entrance we saw huge schools of anchovies, some as big as a house, swirling the water like a whirlpool. And pelicans and frigate birds there en-mass to take advantage of the food.

Finally, we arrive at Cabo, southern most point of land on the Baja Peninsula. We were beat, burned and ready for a real restaurant meal.

Another cruiser from Puget Sound (Paul Allen and family) arrived on Tattosh to anchor right behind us. This ship is so huge that the sailboat hauled up on it's port side almost matches our boat. And the crew were really snooty too, as you'd expect, I guess. I'll be if Paul knew we were there, he'd have come over for some cheap Mexican beer with us!