Before we left we met a Canadian family on board the sailing vessel Sissona. They said they would keep in touch since we were both headed to Turtle Bay. We sailed off onto a reach and they cracked off to run closer to shore between the Coronado Islands and the mainland while we went around the Coronado’s and offshore. Kristina was under the weather so I sent her to her bunk to recover. Meanwhile I could see that we were close to the outermost Coronado Island on our chart but I couldn’t see it. My chart had no topographical information (or I just didn’t notice) and I assumed it must be small. I decided to trail our hand line since we were now technically in Mexican waters. It took 10 minutes or so to untangle it and when I looked up we were a couple miles to windward of a massive precipitous island. The haze had concealed its mass from me. I decided that while this was not yet a dangerous lee shore I should harden up and beam reach past it on a course due west before it had a chance to become a problem. This put us on a brisk close reach. Estrella heeled over for the first time this trip and began galloping through the seas with a bone in her teeth. She seemed to really come alive as we blasted past the Coronado Islands. I was sitting on the windward coaming ducking the occasioinal salt-spray as we plowed through the waves.
Once past the island I cracked off onto a nearly dead downwind run. I was under the impression that the main would blanket the jib and create too much helm for the vane to cope with so I motored for a couple hours before I heard “Estrella Estrella Estrella, this is sailing vessel Sissona channel one-six.”
I was settled into my night watch routine and hearing our name over the radio kind of startled me. I knew to expect to hear from them but for the last 1000 miles I had grown accustomed to being more or less totally alone at sea. I mean even the shipping traffic has been very light and most nights have passed without even sighting a single ship. I got up from out of my perch in the saloon and answered.
On a working channel Sissona informed me that they were almost 15 miles south of us. I wasn’t surprised as they really took off when they ran between the islands. Sissona evidently experienced 15 knots on the beam most of the way through the islands. They were now running under a prevented main at 4 knots dead downwind. I told Sissona that we would have too much weather helm to pull that off so we were sadly motoring.
They offered their condolences and we chatted for awhile. Afterwards we agreed to keep in contact and “buddy boat” down to Turtle Bay as long as we had VHF range to do so. I spoke with them a few more times through the night but never quite got accustomed to having company out there.
Once off the radio I started to wonder what would happen if I really flattened out the main and prevented it all the way out. I went on deck and got the main against the shrouds and the vang/preventer rigged tight as a drum. I then turned off the engine and found we actually went faster. So I left it at that and went below to turn off all the power hogging stuff we had running while under power.
We ran at a solid 4 knots for several hours when I had a contact on the radar. We haven’t had a close encounter with a ship the whole run down the coast. Most of them alter course to pass well clear of us (1 or 2 miles). But this one was heading right for us and was 6 miles away. Ordinarily I note them on radar at 8 miles then really start paying attention at 6.
I usually put an EBL (electronic bearing line) on their radar smudge and watch to see that they don’t bee line straight down it. This time he closed to within 4 miles of us in short order and I calculated that he would collide with us in about 20 minutes if neither of us changed course. Through the binoculars I could see clearly that he was headed straight for us. Green White Red all spread far apart. I changed course to starboard started the engine and sped up until I saw only a red light. By this time he was under a half mile from us and not changing course at all. He passed about a quarter mile astern of us without so much as a by your leave.
So this would be the first time in 1100 sea miles we have actually had to change course for a commercial ship. If the rate remains that way I will be happy. On the bright side I hear that Mexican waters are comparatively free of shipping compared especially to the areas we just transited in California.
I noticed after this last bout of motoring that at full throttle the engine wasn’t producing the kind of power to which I am accustomed. In fact we only got to 5 knots when I really had her running hard. The wind died around 4AM and our speed dropped to an anemic 2.5 knots. I again fired up the engine and found that we weren’t going any faster. I checked the prop shaft and packing gland and they were ice cold, I put my hand on the transmission and damn near burned it.
I noticed the shaft wasn’t spinning nearly as fast is it should be for the engine RPMs we were putting out so I went into the cockpit to experiment. At idle we made 2.5 knots. Out of gear we made 1.8 knots so we were getting some small push. I then checked to see what happened if I revved her up all the way. Much to my dismay I found that the engine I had always known to be only capable of 2800 RPMs under load was now capable of 3400 RPMs. This meant to me that the transmission was not loading down the engine. The prop was turning, the engine was turning it but little or no load was being put on the engine. Add to this the fact that the transmission was hot enough to make a grilled cheese sandwich and it did not bode well for our little tranny.
By now it was around 4AM and I was feeling a little woozy. It seems that the human brain needs sleep at some point or else it will make the human body feel all woozy. So I woke Kristina told her we were going the fastest we could that I would see what I could do at dawn and to wake me in 2 hours.
I slept like the dead and awoke on my own about 2 hours later. I decided that the desolate coast of southern Baja was not the place to have a dead transmission and that even though we were 30 miles south and 20 miles west of Ensenada we would be far better off there than elsewhere. Also the Amigo net reported a forecast for good northwesterlies for one more day and then flat calm for the 3 days to follow. Magdelena bay was our target. It is a shallow winding bay with many treacherous currents. Or so I had heard anyway. It was time to think like an engineless sailboat. An engineless sailboat would likely not enter Mag bay without ample wind.
It seemed our options were: repair the transmission at sea and continue, continue under sail and face a becalming for days only to sail into a desolate area free of any resources to make repairs, or use the wind we would have today and sail back north to Ensenada.
Ensenada has a reputation for being an excellent port of entry to mexico and is home to the Baja Naval Boatyard, a top notch drydock and yacht repair facility. I decided to go with a combination of options 1 and 3. We would sail east toward the coast while trying to repair the problem. If we repaired the problem we would make port that much sooner having closed our now 30 mile offing, if we didn’t we could easily just sail a slightly more northerly course into Bahia Todos Santos and Ensenada.
Our course would be closer to the light winds which would propel us faster. So I gybed Estrella off and unfurled the jib. I trimmed her for a beam reach and went about trying to fix the transmission. We got another call from Sissona and told them we were likely headed to Ensenada and they expressed regret over losing their buddy boat. They also asked if we were sure the prop wasn’t just wrapped with kelp. I told them about the engine RPM thing and hot transmission and they agreed that kelp was unlikely.
I decided the first thing to do was to check the linkage. I pulled the cable off the switch and found no improvement when I switched gears by hand. I then realized I couldn’t really go into Ensenada without checking the prop. Sure Kelp was unlikely but what if something happened to the prop and it was freewheeling on the shaft or something like that? Well I wasn’t going to lose ground without checking. I hove Estrella to, put on my swim trunks, snorkel and mask and hung the boarding ladder over the side. I tied our rigging knife to my belt loop and jumped into the cold water. The prop and shaft were clean as a whistle so I dove down to them to wrench on the prop and make sure it didn’t turn freely. All was well. Up I came and an unexpected swell caused me to enjoy a nice gulp of the Pacific Ocean on my way back to the boarding ladder.
I climbed back aboard and informed Kristina that there was nothing wrong with our prop shaft or prop. At this point there was little else I could think of doing so I consulted Nigel Calder’s Boat Owner’s Electrical and Mechanical Handbook and found nothing there for slipping transmission, likewise nothing in my Yanmar service manual. Kristina made some breakfast and asked me if I wanted any. I was evidently engrossed and didn’t answer. I decided that it was going to be a long day of sailing so I had better get some more rest. I hadn’t eaten in 16 hours or so but the rest seemed more important.
I changed into dry clothes and told Kristina to wake me if she needed anything. I slept fitfully for 4 hours or so and when I awoke Kristina said we were making a nice 4 knots. I went on deck and was surprised to find ample wind. I trimmed the sails and we started bombing along at 6.5 knots on a close reach for Ensenada on a rhumb line course (straight line). The next 6 hours would be without a doubt the best sailing of the entire voyage thus far.
About an hour before sunset the wind died down to around 7 knots and having rounded the tip of the Islands at the entrance to Bahia Todos Santos we had to fall off onto more of a downwind course. I had been sailing to a point to windward of our entrance into the bay because distance into the wind is “money in the bank”. We can sail downwind any direction we want to go, upwind we are limited.
We were still making 3.5 knots toward our destination but I wanted to go faster. When we first started heading to Ensenada we thought we were going to get there the following morning. With this as yet unprecedented fast sailing we now had the chance of making it in before the end of twilight.
I went below and got our small spinnaker out of the locker. It was still blowing a bit hard for our untested giant spinnaker. We got the small spinnaker set but the wind died so the net result was that we just maintained our 3.5 kt speed. I went and got the big daddy spinnaker and doused the small one. Once we got the sock up the big daddy spinnaker it started to fill and then just collapsed. It hung straight down confirming our suspicion. We were safely inside Bahia Todos Santos, the sun was going down and the wind was completely gone.
I pulled in our hand line in preparation for the coming slow motor through the night and found a very tired 20 lb fish on the hook. Evidently we had been dragging him along while we were fussing with spinnakers and the like. We pulled him aboard and found he looked like a tuna but being otherwise occupied we killed him and put him in a bucket of salt water for later identification. The killing was a bloody affair that did an excellent job of illustrating what inexperienced fishermen we are.
We were 8 miles outside of the entrance to Ensenada. I decided we would limp in under power. Fired up the engine and off we went. Our speed over ground was fluctuating between .7kt and 1.8kt. We spent the next 8 hours motoring the last 8 miles into Ensenada. 2 cruise ships departed past us during this time and a fishing boat overtook us. On all three of these occasions I turned on our main and mizzen flood lights to illuminate our deck. The Mexican fishing boat flashed his searchlight at us to let us know he saw us.
After I saw the breakwater at the entrance I watched a movie while Kristina napped. When the movie was over we had almost transited the 2 miles to the breakwater. We went into the Ensenada Cruiseport Marina where we tied up to the large linear “Mega Yacht” dock between two mega yachts. A security guard came by and got our information and we stowed to boat and enjoyed a well earned rest. San Diego to Ensenada is a 60 mile 12 hour run for most. We managed to pull it off in just shy of 36 hours and over 130 miles.
Ultimately I am proud of the outcome, we came in safely and really nothing went wrong once the transmission died. If I had one criticism it would be that my crew management was poor. Kristina is extremely competent and I should have put her to greater use. If we had gotten into trouble out there it would have been irresponsible for me to be as tired as I allowed myself to get. It can be hard not to get target fixated when you are dealing with problems on a voyage but one must remember that crew fatigue, especially captain fatigue is also a problem just as real as a fried transmission or a torn sail.
