Bahia de los Angeles, (October 19, 2010)
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
After a surprisingly calm night, still punctuated by strong gusts of wind but generally much more quiet than the four previous days, I woke up to a heavily overcast sky with clouds being pushed into an easterly direction. Although there was barely any light, I got up in a hurry and decided now was the time to get off the island.
I did not take breakfast; I did not drink anything. The only thing on my mind was to get going as soon as possible before the wind would pick up again. I rushed to get all the gear into the boat; I emptied the last bags of water, except one which I wanted to keep if it turned out that I could not get to Bahia de LA. I was also determined not to have a big bag on my rear deck which would catch a lot of wind and make paddling very difficult. I stuffed into the hatches what I could and carried the remaining items between my legs in the cockpit; one shoe, one bag with food, one groundsheet, one bag of water, one bottle with water.
As I pushed off the shore, the first rays of the sun came through the clouds; beautifully orange but only a thin sliver; the rest of the sky was heavy and gray. I only needed to paddle a few hundred feet to round the southernmost point of the Isla Coronado. I got there in a hurry with the wind in my back. Close to the point I was checked out by a frigate bird which hovered very briefly above me; it put on the air brakes and spread its tail and I was expecting something nasty to fall out of the sky but fortunately the bird was only curious and had no bad intentions.
I could see the breaking waves beyond the point and realized that I would be in for some heavy paddling. There was no let up in the strength of the wind behind the point. The waves were big, the waves were breaking, the waves were moving at considerable speed in the wrong direction. Still, I felt fine; not having stuff on the rear deck which would act as a sail, I had very good control of the kayak and it was a case of keeping the paddles in the water and be prepared for freak waves’ after that it would only be a matter of time and hard work before I would get somewhere where I could either shelter from the wind, or land on a shore.
The difference to the previous days was that the wind was not gusting. It was strong but steady and, at least for now, not swirling around too much. I was working hard, getting sprayed by the breaking waves and dipping into and out of the 3 – 4ft troughs between the waves. I was paddling more or less during slack tide so the current was not going to help or hinder me. About one half of a mile to the southeast was the “skull”, the rock which looks exactly like one when seen from the west. This was the nearest point where I could get some shelter and since it was more or less in the direction that I needed to go to, I aimed for the east side of it. I half paddled and half ferried across the water; the wind being at just the right angle that I could get it to push me sideways without totally forcing me sideways to the waves. From a distance it looked as if the “skull” was growing some stubble on its head and as I came nearer I noticed that the “stubble” was birds who were sitting all across the top of it. From a distance I could hear the honking of the sea lions that live on this rock. One by one they were sliding into the water and before long I was checked out by a whole bunch of them. There must have been at least 15 heads peeping out of the water looking me over from near by and others honking from the slopes of the rock. I was in sheltered water at this time and would have loved to take a picture of this scene, but my camera was inside one of the hatches.
I did not linger in the wind shadow; the waves were not giving me too much trouble and although I was moving pretty slowly, I was making steady progress. Rounding the rocks at the southern point of the “skull” was no problem. I was right back into the thick of wind and waves but my confidence was high by this time. It seemed that the wind was not getting any stronger and the closer I would get to the shore of Bahia de los Angeles, the less fetch the wind would have to kick up really bad waves. I did decide, though, to keep paddling from wind break to wind break; I have been surprised by the Sea of Cortez too often to take the conditions lightly and there were still considerable waves and strong wind to contend with.
My next target was Isla Pata, about one mile away. This is a slightly bigger island and if necessary I could paddle along its eastern shore in the wind shadow until the south point and then paddle the short distance to Isla Flecha and hide behind its eastern shore, paddling south before crossing the final channel. I was in a good rhythm now and though I was still very much concentrating on the paddle, I was also beginning to take note of the environment a little more. The heavy clouds were still covering the sky but they were not racing as much as they had done earlier in the morning. Suddenly I see a beam of light piercing the clouds and lighting up the top of one of the hills above Bahia de LA; this is a beautiful sight; the hill is dark gray with a band of ocher colored rock on the top, like colored icing on a cake. The light is unbelievable; it is still somewhat orange which highlights the color of the reddish rock while making the gray look a little less forbidding. It is only this ridge that is lit up and it only lasts for may be 30 seconds but it is a sight that I will not easily forget.
The clouds are opening up a little and more hill tops are lit up. One very distant hill looks just like Table Mountain in Cape Town. This “table” is lit from the top and a little down its slopes. Below is the gray rock and above is the heavy gray of the storm clouds. Another unforgettable sight.
More and more light is coming through, and then suddenly the clouds close up and all the light is gone; it now looks again like a storm is brewing and is about to burst.
Isla Flecha is nearby and I have decided that I do not need to paddle in its wind shadow; I’ll take the direct course to the shore. I have been paddling for about one hour and am feeling fit and on top of the world;I can easily handle the conditions as they are now.
It does not take long for the wind to lose a lot of strength; it happens gradually and I notice it more through the fact that the waves are getting smaller and the white caps disappear from the water than I feel the wind diminishing. The high tide current should be starting to flow but I expect that I will not notice any effect for the remainder of the paddle. I have only about one more hour to paddle before I am back at the Campo Archelon.
The wind has disappeared all together and I paddle in near perfect conditions; a slightly agitated sea only. The swell is now down to about one foot and is still moving in the direction of the wind; east. After a few minutes the wind is back but now from the southwest and immediately the water becomes more turbulent. The wave action to east had not run its course, yet, and now the wind is pushing from the southwest. This creates a little more turbulence and is stays that way until I get to the Campo Archelon where I get strange looks from a few campers who seem to wonder where this guy suddenly comes from at this early hour in the morning.
As I get to shore, I see Antonio at the same time that he sees me. A big shout: “Hi, Herman. How are you, good to see you” Antonio at his best again, always very enthusiastic and kind. Before I have the boat pulled up on the beach he is already explaining to the campers that I am “ a friend from Holland, who has just paddled the islands”.
“Herman, I have to go to a meeting today. When are you leaving? Tomorrow? Then we can have our glass of wine tonight”. Antonio absolutely wants to have a glass of wine with me; he has already said so a few times and I do not have the heart to tell him that I do not drink alcohol. I will probably end up having a glass of wine with him; he is such a great guy. Then, tomorrow it is back home to Rosarito, until the next paddle somewhere in Baha.
The storm starts really building in the afternoon; heavy clouds and threatening rain, which does not fall until I cross the mountains to the west the next day.