Power plant in Manzanillo.
Whale tail.
Mark's 34" yellowfin tuna.
Cabeza Negra.
Sea turtles were everywhere.
Slow passage: a bird catches a
turtle ride.
Purple and Red are accurate. Orange and blue are not. Radar contours of real land
are purple. Accurate GPS markers are red. Inaccurate "charted" land is orange.
Inaccurate ocean is blue. Our boat is the size of a city block accurately marked near
bottom. Two red circles indicate the approach. Red anchor symbol (on land) tucked
into radar hook is where we will anchor. Red triangle is dangerous offshore rocks.
Circled sailboat gives info when clicked. '+' symbols are "charted" rocks.
Fishermen in a panga.
Maruata.
Caleta Campos.
Caleta Campos
Caleta Campos
Tennis ball sized tar balls engulf the boat.
A line of congealed tar balls blocked our way.
"Isla Ixtapa"
known also as "Isla de Ixtapa"...
...and also called "Isla Grande."
Deer live on the island.
The bunnies get fed.
The snorkeling cove on the south side of Isla de Ixtapa.
A great place to relax.
A water taxi takes a group of workers to the island.
Beach umbrellas line all three beaches on the island.
Musicians wandered
among the tourists.
There are boat rides of all kinds.
Cactus thrives here.
The hidden beach.
Crocodiles!!
Iguana.
The evening before a lunar
eclipse.
Manzanillo to Isla Ixtapa (Isla Grande), Mexico
Mid-December, 2010 - Our days in Manzanillo made us feel like our
cruising lifestyle was truly underway. We basked in the warm weather,
pretty scenery, and exotic locale. The only downside was the
persistently thick, smokey air. Small fires burned every night. Either
people were burning their trash or one rumor was that farmers were
burning off the remains of last year's crops. The large power plant in
the downtown port area contributed its own steady plume of smoke too.
It made an eerily pretty sight in the morning sun as we sailed away.
We had planned to make
Manzanillo our southernmost
stop, but new friends talked us
into sailing another 180 miles
south to Zihuatanejo. Most boats
do this passage in a single 30 hour run, but we took
four days to get there, stopping at each of the three
anchorages along the way.
Mark had dragged a hand fishing line for many hours on several days of our travels, with no
luck. As we approached Cabeza Negra, our first night's anchorage, he pulled the hand line
in to stow it away and suddenly yelled, "I think I've got something!" Sure enough, he had a
34" long yellowfin tuna. It was a beautiful fish. Feeling a weird mixture of excitement over
catching it and terrible sadness at the prospect of killing it, I burst into tears. What a great
fishing companion I am!
Cabeza Negra is a tiny
anchorage cradled by a private,
gated, guarded community.
Listening to a band playing on
shore, Mark cleaned the fish.
We had a delicious fish dinner
that night, and our freezer was
quickly stuffed with a month's
worth of meals.
There was no wind along this coast, so we motored most of
everyday. The sea turtles were plentiful. Our next
anchorage, Maruata, has a turtle sanctuary, and their
efforts must be working, because we passed at least ten to
twenty turtles on each of our day's passages. One turtle
was even giving a bird a ride.
We had grown to love our chartplotter, as it makes navigating so easy,
but we soon learned to watch it with a weather eye. Mexico's survey
data is ancient, and the chartplotter reflects that. Coming into each
anchorage we used the radar and hand-entered accurate GPS
waypoints from our guidebooks to get the true lay of the land. In
Maruata's case, the chartplotter drawing was half a mile off. The
guidebook's GPS coordinates for dropping the anchor appeared to be
on land, and we sailed right through the chartplotter's inaccurately
drawn, rock-strewn coast on our way in.
Maruata's bay was slightly larger than our
previous night's anchorage at Cabeza
Negra. The village has just a few
buildings and an old air strip. We
watched some young men deftly
maneuver their panga in among the surf-
pounded rocks. In no time they had
caught something in the net they had
thrown off their bow.
On a nearby bluff the birds went crazy
squawking at each other as the sun set.
After the sophisticated air of Las Hadas
resort in Manzanillo, with its loud bands
playing all day and all night, this coastline
felt very remote and rugged. We saw
nothing but sea, sky and occasional
creatures as we sailed during the day,
and all we could hear at anchor was the
surf on the beach and the birds in the
trees.
Michoacán, the state we were sailing through, is known as
a top producer of pot, and the route we were taking has
been a common drug running route. However, other than
three enormous tankers we didn't see one other boat
during our entire four day jaunt, except for a small Navy
boat that might have been patrolling the area.
Underneath our boat, however, there was all kinds of activity. Our depth gauge would read proper
depths as we left each night's anchorage in the morning and again as we approached our new
anchoring spot in the afternoon. But all day in between it would read crazy shallow depths.
Sometimes it hovered around 10 feet, and sometimes around 25 feet or 50. Schools of fish seemed
to find our shadow a pleasant place to hang out. Our speed of 6.5 to 7.5 knots suited them just fine,
and they swam along beneath us. At one point, when we stopped the motor and slowed to 3 knots to
sail for a while, they all disappeared (those fish didn't have time for 3 knots!). Suddenly our depth
gauge showed three dashes, indicating it couldn't get a depth reading. The true depth was a
thousand feet, too deep for it to measure.
Caleta Campos was our last overnight spot on our way to
Zihuatanejo. We were using three guidebooks, cross referencing
them to find areas where the authors agreed and disagreed. One
book, Charlie's Charts, was originally written 30 years ago, and
despite annual updates it gives the flavor of a different Mexico and
an era of cruising that is long gone.
His book warned that Caleta
Campos could easily be confused
with another anchorage,
Pechilinquillo, 23 miles further down
the coast, because the mountains
and coastal features are similar.
Unless your chartplotter died or the
satellites stopped transmitting, you could never be 23 miles off in your navigation these days.
But even if you were that far off, nowadays you couldn't possibly confuse these two
anchorages. One has a huge radio tower and a giant white cross placed high on a hill along
with a sizeable town that lights up like a Christmas tree at night. Its pricey looking villas cling
to the rocky cliffs. The other anchorage has just a building or two on a deserted sand beach.
As with the two previous anchorages, we
debated getting off the boat to explore
ashore at Caleta Campos but opted not
to, as landing the kayak or dinghy on the
beach looked a little challenging. But it
was delightful to view from a
distance. Boatloads of
teenagers dashed about in
pangas, and the many beach
bars were jumping.
The next day we passed by
the huge industrial port of
Lázaro Cardenas. This port
supports an oil refinery, and
huge tankers carry
cargo in and out.
We were five miles offshore, but we could smell the port long
before we could see it. Suddenly we noticed tennis ball sized
balls of tar floating past us. Just a few at first, but soon we were
engulfed. Alarmed, we hung over the rail until we noticed we
were heading straight for a long line of congealed tar balls. We
aimed for a narrow spot in what looked like a barrier wall and
motored through unscathed. The jagged line of tar zig-zagged
as far as we could see in both directions.
A little later, just as we were remarking on the deep rich blue-green color of
the water (a welcome change after the murky grey-green we had been seeing
all along this coast), we spotted an enormous swath of mustard yellow water
ahead of us. It looked like a cruise ship had dumped its holding tanks, but it
didn't smell. We passed through it unharmed but unnerved, and wondered if it
had been an algae bloom. Half an hour later, just as we approached our
destination of Isla Ixtapa, we motored through a mammoth patch of deep red-
brown. This appeared to be a red tide, something we had heard about but
never seen. During the next 10 days we watched two more red tides sweep
through the anchorage at Isla Ixtapa.
Red tide aside, Isla
Ixtapa (also known as
Isla Grande) was a
total delight. Three
charming coves shape
the perimeter of the
island. Two are ideal for swimming, strolling and kayaking and are
daytime hosts to a fleet of banana boats and jet skis that come over
from the large resorts on the mainland just a mile away.
After landing the kayak on one of these two beaches we made a
beeline along a little footpath across the island's interior for the third
cove. We tromped through the thin woods, passing six foot tall
Christmas cactus that were in full bloom. The leaves crunched under
our feet, surprising a deer who lept away at the sound. Some time later, while
we lounged under the beach umbrellas, another deer bounded across the sand
at full speed, running along the water's edge the entire length of the beach until
he reached the protection of the woods at the far end.
Not only were there deer on the island, but
there were bunnies too. Fortunately for us, the
beachside restaurants left the outer leaves of
their lettuce heads in a huge pile for the
animals. Another day we watched four deer
standing amid the lettuce, munching away. It
seemed they were in heaven.
We were too. The third, southernmost cove is a great snorkeling area, filled with craggy
rocks and live, colorful coral. No sooner did I put my head in the water than I found myself
surrounded by large schools of fish. Tiny royal blue
fish with iridescent blue spots darted in and out of
the coral. Big schools of large silver fish with bright
yellow tails cruised just under the surface, turning
and changing direction as one body. Chubby grey
fish with long flowing fins hovered over the reef.
After the weird pollution and algae blooms it was a
thrill to see bright living coral and happy fish, despite
water visibility of just 8 feet.
This little island is a vacation paradise. Tourists come out from the
mainland resorts a mile away in small water taxis, six or eight to a boat.
The day is whiled away with swimming, snorkeling, boat rides and bathing
suited beachside dining. Then the water taxis take everyone back to
shore for the evening.
At night the island closes up and
all is quiet, as only a handful of
people live there.
Lots of kids and parents enjoyed
the island together. Most tourists
were Mexicans, and while watching
the families playing together I got
chatting with Santos, one of the
restaurant workers, about how
important family is in Mexican
culture.
Comparing notes about remarriages
and step-kids and extended families,
he told me there is a saying in Mexico that
every Mexican knows: "Si la vaca es tuya,
son tuyos los becerros," or "If the cow is
yours, the calves are yours."
No woman wants to be compared to
a cow, but this saying seemed to me
to be a very profound statement of
the level of commitment that is
expected and given. I can't think of
an English expression about family
relationships that carries quite the
same weight.
There is a fourth beach on this
tiny island that is accessible
only by scrambling over some
rocks. We wandered that way
and put the day's first footsteps in
the sand there.
Over on the mainland there are
several large beaches backed by
beautiful resorts. We strolled the
beaches, peering into the resorts
to see how that half lived.
Mexican law keeps all beaches open for
public access, and down by the public
access area there is a fenced estuary that
is kept as a natural wildlife habitat. Wading birds walked along the
outside of the fence, casually searching for goodies in the water.
Behind them a sign read, "No dar de comer a los crocodilos,"
"Don't feed the crocodiles!"
And there they were: on the other side of the fence were at least
20 crocodiles. These guys are big! They lolled around, looking
ever so docile, several of them resting with their mouths wide open.
To complete this exotic picture, a
group of iguanas crawled awkwardly
about. Each one had a unique body
and face. They swayed slowly,
surveying the scene around them.
We enjoyed Isla Ixtapa so much that 10 days slipped
by in an instant. Rather waterlogged from days on end
of swimming and snorkeling, we finally pulled up the
anchor and moved the boat the last ten miles to
Find Isla Ixtapa on Mexico Maps
Visit Anchorages on Mexico's Southern Pacific Coast
to see more cruising posts from this area!
Costalegre: Manzanillo’s Las Hadas Anchorage – Charming!
Beach chairs lined up at Las Hadas Resort.
Overlooking the anchorage from Las Hadas.
The anchorage forms a backdrop for the pool.
The beach where Bo Derek
memorably ran in slow motion.
Groovy with beach and palms.
Moorish architecture with gargoyles.
The arch at the main entrance.
A rock wall of arches.
Hibiscus flowers in a stairwell.
The laundromat were a single
load of washing and 28 minute
dry cycle will set you back
$10.50.
The stunning royal blue pool.
The anchorage at dawn.
A tiny travel trailer tucked between the boat trailers.
Another view of Groovy.
El Velero (sailboat) sculpture.
Downtown Manzanillo harbor.
Sailfish sculpture, locally
nicknamed "the shrimp."
Festive pinatas are strung between
buildings for Christmas.
Our propane bottle will be filled at last.
Beach and anchorage at Las Hadas.
Villas next to Las Hadas.
Obtaining diesel requires a little effort.
Las Hadas Resort, Manzanillo, Mexico (2)
Early December, 2010 - We were so enchanted by our beautiful
surroundings at Las Hadas resort in Manzanillo that we barely
noticed the days drifting into each other. Ten days disappeared in
the blink of an eye.
The resort is a photographer's paradise, and I couldn't stop
the camera from clicking each time we took a walk around the
grounds. "Don't you have a picture of that already?" Mark
would ask me. "Yes, but it's so beautiful I can't help it!"
For one thing, proud boat owners
that we are, Groovy kept
sneaking into a lot of the shots.
There are arches
of all kinds
throughout the
property, and
some of the turrets
are decorated with
Medieval looking
gargoyles crawling
up the sides.
The resort is built
on many levels,
and it is easy to
get happily lost.
One day we
came across a rock wall
of arches with a rock
stairway going down to
the footpath below.
Las Hadas Resort is
lovingly maintained.
Fresh hibiscus flowers
decorated many nooks
and crannies.
It is a relaxing and
charming fantasy land
where the workaday
world quickly vanishes.
We had certain chores to attend to, however, which
kept us tethered to reality in between lazy afternoons
spent in the pool. Day by day we ticked our items off
the list. The first and most critical chore was to tidy
up the boat. A month of passage making had buried
certain key living spaces in the cabin. How nice it
was, after a few hours of digging and stowing, to get
our v-berth back.
Next was to do the mountain of laundry that had
piled up. Long pants, long sleeved shirts,
sweatshirts, and fleece jackets were all begging to be
stored away in some deep locker somewhere.
All those clothes filled three large laundry bags to overflowing. Doing laundry on a boat at
anchor is not always so easy, however. I had done some smaller items by hand, but leaving
them out on the clothesline until they dried resulted in clothes that smelled like salt air. That
would never work for the long term storage of all our winter clothing.
The resort has a "lavenderia" (laundromat) on the premises, with (cold water only)
washers and dryers that looked like they could do the job. However, a single wash load
cost 60 pesos (about $5.25), as did a single load in the dryer. Not letting ourselves get
discouraged, we tossed the three huge bags of clothes as well as our detergent and
softener into the dinghy and motored ashore. Heaving them onto the dock and lugging
them up to the laundromat, we were grateful it wasn't too long a walk.
It was only when we stuffed the machines to the gills
that we realized we really had about five loads of
laundry. Re-stuffing them into three loads, we
returned to the little store several times to buy yet
more 60 peso tokens for the machines, as we soon
discovered the dryers ran for just 28 minutes. Some
420 pesos later (about $37), our clothes were
marginally clean and ready to be stored away.
Later we learned that there is a Lavenderia just two
miles from the resort where for half that cost we could
have had our laundry washed and folded for us.
However, it is still not so simple, as the cab ride is a
few dollars, and you would need to make two trips,
one to drop off the clothes and another to pick them
up. The bus might have been an option, but those
were really big bags... Bottom line: "sail naked"
started to sound like a really good idea.
It was while cooling off in the pool and pondering
how many beachside beers that laundry could have
gotten us (about 37), that I got talking with another
tourist who was enjoying the pool with his family.
We compared notes on how we ended up in the
same pool, having both come here from San Diego.
It turned out he had traveled here on a cruise ship
that was currently parked across the bay in
downtown Manzanillo. When the
ship arrived in port for the day, he
got off with his family and hailed a
cab, asking to be taken to a
beautiful resort with a pool and a
beach for the kids. For $40 the
resort gave them access to all the
amenities, letting them put the
entrance fee money
towards drinks and
food as well.
He was amazed that
we had sailed to this
resort on our own little
boat, but I was
equally impressed
that he managed to
ferret out this idyllic
location on his own
when Carnival Cruise
Lines anchored for
just a few hours.
"You're living the life,"
he said with a big smile. "Yes, but there's another side to cruising..." I
said, telling him our laundry story. He nodded and laughed, but then
dropped a beautiful pearl of wisdom: "That's just the price you paid to be
able to enjoy this pool this afternoon."
He is so right. The scary overnight sailing, the challenges of
taking care of basic necessities while living at anchor, the
discomforts of living in a small home that bounces around on
the waves, those are the price of limitless idyllic days living
anchored next to an exquisite resort.
We had more of those
small prices to pay as
we marched down our
"to do" list. Getting one
of our propane tanks
filled was on the
agenda, but as we
asked around the resort and marina, it seemed like a task that would have to wait for
another port. Propane is not easy to find in Manzanillo.
We had noticed a tiny travel trailer parked among the boat trailers at the marina, but
weren't sure whether it was occupied or simply in storage. When a couple came up to
our boat in an inflatable dinghy and said they weren't from a boat but were from a
trailer, we got our answer. He was Cuban and she was Mexican, and they had
traveled all over Mexico and the US for months at a time in their 13' travel trailer.
He knew something of boats,
having rowed a raft for four
days from Cuba to Key West in
the 1970's. He and four friends had trained for six months to be
physically ready for the trip, running, swimming and conditioning their
bodies to survive in the harsh tropical marine environment without
drinking water. They rowed their raft, made largely of truck inner
tubes, for four sleepless days and nights, keeping a bearing of 5
degrees until they reached Florida.
Tragically, they lost a good friend to the sea when a storm
struck, and that sad memory has never faded. The survivors
thrived, however, and our new friend lived the American dream
to the fullest, building up a construction business to a size
where he could sell it and retire at age 42. His RV for winter
travel in Mexico is perfect for rough, small roads and for tucking
inconspicuously out of the way overnight. Speaking perfect
Spanish, even with a Cuban accent which gets him labeled as a
Gringo, makes his travels here so much easier.
They needed propane for their trailer too, so we were soon off on an adventure
to fill our tanks. It turned out that the only place to get propane in Manzanillo
was beyond the downtown port in an industrial area, an hour's drive through city
traffic from Las Hadas. It became an all day project, but gave us a chance to
see another side of Manzanillo.
The city is proud of its maritime roots, and we passed a sculpture called
"El Velero" ("Sailboat").
The heart of the waterfront
downtown is a large harbor
filled with pangas and
sport fishing boats. There
is a big park and malecón
(boardwalk) lined with
white painted wrought iron
benches. At the center stood a huge
blue sculpture of a sailfish. The Port
Captain later told us that the locals have
nicknamed the sculpture "The Shrimp"
because they think it resembles a
shrimp more than a sailfish.
Christmas decorations and festivities had
already started, and as we drove through the
tiny streets of the neighborhoods in the "old
town" area, we saw rows of piñata strung up
between the homes.
Finally we arrived at Global Gas, where for about 38
pesos ($3.30) we got our 2.5 gallon tank filled. Thank
goodness for our friends being willing to drive us there,
as the cab fare would have been 250 pesos ($22)
each way.
Getting 30 gallons of diesel was the final big project on our "to do" list,
and is something you'd think would be easy at a marina with a fuel
dock. Not so. The fuel dock is just 60' long, requiring big boats to
back into the dock and drop an anchor off the bow to keep the boat
perpendicular to it. Large rocks clearly visible under the water around
the dock add a white knuckle element to the process. We thought
long and hard about this maneuver and decided in the end to borrow a
boating friend's jerry jugs and make three dinghy trips back and forth to the fuel dock
instead.
Pouring diesel from a 50 lb. can into a 1-inch hole under the jump seat while the boat
pitches and rolls in the wake of crazy water skiers is a delicate process. Fortunately,
our friend had a very cool siphoning device for use with the jerry jugs that slurped the
diesel out of the can and into the tanks. In no time the project was done, and Groovy
was ready to take us to new places.
Most boats
arriving in
Manzanillo
were headed
south to
Zihuatanejo for
Christmas. We had planned to make Manzanillo our
southernmost turnaround point. However, the wonderful
tales of fun and frolics in Zihuatanejo that we heard
from all the experienced Mexican cruisers around us
eventually persuaded us to make the trek another 180
miles south to "Z-town" before venturing north.
On our way, we stopped at gorgeous Ixtapa Island ("Isla Ixtapa").
Find Manzanillo on Mexico Maps
Visit Anchorages on the "Mexican Riviera" (northern Pacific coast) to see more cruising posts from this area!
More Blog Posts From Our Mexico Cruise
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Costalegre: Manzanillo’s Las Hadas – Turrets and Fairies
A paceline of birds commutes home.
Three little musketeers alight on our lifelines.
Las Hadas Resort.
A picture perfect anchorage.
Moorish style whitewashed buildings give the area a
Mediterranean feeling.
Beach chairs lined up at the resort.
The resort's pools are all royal blue.
Mark plays Dudley Moore...
...and Brian Keith.
A newspaper article featuring nude
shots of Bo Derek is discreetly placed
behind a wide column.
Bo's room --
should we knock?
The resort is a castle worthy of
any princess.
There was a band playing in this thatch roofed,
open air dance hall 24/7.
Groovy sits among flowers.
Cobblestone streets and paths run all
through the resort.
The anchorage off Las Hadas Resort.
The resort features a world class golf course.
A banyan tree spreads its roots wide.
Live Christmas trees for sale at the
supermarket bring memories of the north.
The Chivas team car.
This soccer star has
the cutest smile, but
he got dead serious
as soon as the
camera came out.
A snowy egret with impossibly
bright yellow feet.
Las Hadas Resort, Manzanillo, Mexico (1)
Early December, 2010 - We left Bahía Chamela for an
easy daysail south. There was no wind, so we motored
all 55 miles. As we took our final turn towards our
anchorage in Manzanillo, throngs of birds flew past in
small lines, like cyclists in pacelines, evenly spaced as
they coasted on the wind currents. They seemed to be
commuting home to a large outlying rock island after a
day of foraging on the mainland.
Once we dropped our anchor, another trio of little birds landed
on our lifelines to greet us and check us in.
Our charming hosts were the perfect introduction to the
delights in store for us in Manzanillo. We were anchored in a
small cove next to the stunning Las Hadas Resort.
Plying these same waters in the 1500's, Spanish sailors thought
they saw fairies dancing in the flat calm water by the light of the
harvest full moon in autumn. Four hundred years later, the
Bolivian billionaire tin baron Don Antenor Patiño was searching
the world for the perfect locale for his personal hideaway, and he
found just the right spot overlooking a cove at the northern end
of the industrial port of Manzanillo.
He hired the famous Spanish architect José Luis Ezquerra to design
a unique, fairytale castle-like resort, complete with turrets and
towers worthy of Rapunzel. What emerged from the drawing board
onto the hills surrounding this small cove is a fanciful collection of
Moorish style buildings that cascade in a tumble of whitewashed
spires, arches and balconies down to the water's edge.
Patiño named the resort "Las Hadas" or "The Fairies." Under
construction for ten years, in March 1974, he finally flung the
doors open wide to the wealthiest of the world, throwing a huge
party for 300 jet-setting guests.
Since the days of the Spanish explorers, scientists have thought It's
possible that the optical illusion of fairies dancing on the water by
moonlight was actually the bright blue sparkles of bioluminescence.
These miniscule firefly-like creatures of the sea emit light when
disturbed, for instance by an oar or by waves slapping the hull. We
have found that they are so bright here they linger near our boat
until well after dawn, looking very much like quarter-inch sized royal blue glitter.
As we took in the picturesque views around us with eager eyes, we
found ourselves shedding the last of our layers. Finally we were
going to start living in bathing suits, which is what we had intended
when we first bought Groovy eleven months ago. "THIS is why we
went cruising," we said to each other happily.
The movie "10" was filmed at this resort in 1979. The area hadn't
been known to many besides Mexican vacationers until that point,
but Bo Derek and her beaded hair quickly put this place on the
international map. Now Las Hadas and other resorts on the bay
attract visitors from all over the world.
Cruisers anchored off the resort are allowed to enjoy all the resort's
amenities. We launched the kayak as fast as we could, our fingers
fumbling the lines in our excitement to get going. The royal blue
swimming pools beckoned, and it wasn't long before we dove in.
Our first night in the anchorage we found "10" in our DVD collection
and watched it once again. What a hoot to see shots filmed in
places we had just been that day. A very drunken Dudley Moore
struggles to get across the rope bridge that spans the pool, and the
next day Mark goofed around swinging from side to side on it, doing
Dudley Moore impressions.
"Another double, Don," Dudley slurs to Brian Keith, the bartender,
joking that it will be hard to say that phrase later in the evening.
Mark snuck behind the bar (which is not quite the same as it was in
the movie) to offer up double brandies.
Bo Derek was the big star, of
course, rating an "11" from Dudley's character when he was asked what he thought of
her on a scale of one to ten. Mark hunted all over the resort to find her. Apparently she
had visited a few years back during the 30th anniversary of the film, and she was still
very lovely, even at 50-something. We found a local newspaper article about her in a
one-room museum about the resort's history. Who knew that she posed nude? Of
course, the framed clipping is hung behind a large column, so it is tricky to get an up-
close look at it -- or perhaps it is concealed behind the column so you can take your
time to read the whole article (in Spanish) without anyone noticing just how long you've
been standing there.
The concierge told us the suite where Bo and Dudley
tried to make sparks fly (to the strains of Ravel's Bolero,
restarted several times so she could get her timing just
right), was #420. We hunted up and down the steep
cobbled pathways and finally found her door.
The movie is just a tiny hat-trick in this resort's
sweeping aura of magic, however. Perched at crazy
angles and on many levels up the sharp sides of a hill,
each room, doorway, patio and turret enjoys
spectacular views of the beach and bay below.
We took a bus into town and returned on
foot, traversing the crazy vertical streets
through this resort and others twice. The
whole area is a photographer's dream,
and as we walked back I stopped
repeatedly to take photos while Mark
waited patiently.
The cobblestone streets crawl straight up and plunge straight
down, twisting around impossible corners. Bouncing along in
a half-length schoolbus, we felt like we were in the Caribbean
again. The windows brushed the thick tree growth on the
sides of the roads and the vast blue views of the bay teased
us between tree limbs and cobblestone walls.
Once on foot and looking down at the road, we
noticed the streets have smooth stones spaced for
car tires and rougher stones in between, giving
them a striped appearance.
Las Hadas Resort has been rated one of the top 100 golf courses
in the world, and as you descend the backside of the hill towards
town, the vivid green, palm tree studded course comes into view.
We don't play, but if we did this looks like it would be a
magnificent course.
Manzanillo is at a latitude similar to Hawaii's (a little south,
actually) and enjoys tropical vegetation. How strange to see
30 foot rubber trees, ficus trees and other houseplants that
we have struggled at times to grow in pots. What a surprise
to find what looked like a banyan tree, with exposed roots
sprawled twenty feet wide and hanging straight down from the tree limbs.
In town we discovered trees of another sort. Christmas just isn't
complete without a live spruce tree, I guess, whether you live in a
snowbound climate or not. And sure enough, the supermarket
had a large display of live Christmas trees for sale. We buried our
noses in them for a moment, letting their scent take us two
thousand miles north.
As the days passed, we discovered we were sharing the resort
with the members of a professional sports team. At a distance,
we had seen groups of young men jogging, walking and relaxing
in matching red sports shirts. Then we came across the team car.
The words "cycling team" on the side got us all excited, but when we cornered a team member we
discovered that the team owners have teams in many sports, not just cycling. The team in residence
at the resort was Guadalajara's Chivas Soccer Team. They were staying for a month of pre-season
training. In subsequent days we got a big kick out of watching them doing sit-ups on the beach,
running the steep roads around the resort, and filling a long line of lounge chairs at the pool.
There were others in residence in the bay as well. An egret hung
out every day on the rocks, walking along the shore with sure-
footed bright yellow feet.
More dramatic was the school of rays that came in for a while. We
had seen these rays from a long way off between Bahia Santa
Maria and Magdalena Bay as we sailed down the south end of the
Baja coast. We had been mesmerized by their repeated leaps out
of the water in seeming frenzied ebullience.
This school came in pretty close to the Las Hadas anchorage day after day, swimming
freely between the boats. First a patch of churning water would appear, with a hundred
pointed fins stirring the surface from below. Then all of a sudden the water would erupt
with jumping rays. They would fling themselves into the air, executing front flips, back flips
and belly smacks. Apparently not all that much is known about why the rays do this,
however we sure had fun watching their antics.
Their almost daily show, the tranquil,
picturesque anchorage, and the beautiful resort
just a quick dinghy ride away kept us in
Manzanillo for well over a week.
Find Manzanillo on Mexico Maps
Visit Anchorages on the "Mexican Riviera" (northern Pacific coast) to see more cruising posts from this area!
More Blog Posts From Our Mexico Cruise
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Costalegre: Chamela Bay – Recovery after a Wild Crossing
Bougainvillea and coconut palms in
Chamela Bay.
A panga on the beach in Chamela Bay .
The teapot was our only casualty on
our rocky ride.
A flying fish met his demise in our cockpit.
A sea turtle passes by.
Strange insects remind us
we're nearing the tropics.
Chamela Bay is lined with beach villas tucked behind the palms.
Lots of palapa restaurants hug the north end of the bay.
The beach was littered with pangas.
Chamela Bay offers a very long beach for strolling.
Chamela Bay.
Punta Perula Trailer Park
Beachfront sites stand vacant.
No one bothered this fellow boondocking next to the park.
Romping in the waves.
Groovy waits patiently for our return.
A sand piper takes wing.
Restaurant Las Gueras on the beach.
Fishermen unload their catch...
...then tow their panga high up on the beach.
A boatload of kids calls out "Good Morning" to us visiting boaters.
A Christmas crèche is set up under a tree
in the town center.
The town's band stand.
Fresh produce was available at many small markets.
A girl hitches a ride from Mom.
We grab a bite at La
Campesina.
Chamela Bay, Jalisco, Mexico
Late November, 2010 - We left Cabo San Lucas on a Sunday, knowing we wouldn't
get to our destination until at least Tuesday morning, sailing straight through two
nights and possibly a third. Our destination was the Costa Alegre on mainland
Mexico, 330 miles away, across the bottom of the Sea of Cortez. To date, the
furthest we had been from the coast at night was 50 miles. On this passage we
would be spending the middle 24 hours more than 100 miles from shore.
Ours was not the common route. After traveling down the Baja peninsula, most
cruisers go around the corner to La Paz or cross the Sea of Cortez to the mainland in
a single overnight passage to Mazatlán before harbor hopping south along the
mainland. We wanted to get to the warm, tropical climate right away, however, so we
decided to cut to the chase and sail directly there. The forecast was for mild winds
and mild seas.
When Cabo was 30 miles
behind us, the radio crackled
with the voices of two boats
we knew deciding to turn
around because the winds
were so high as they sailed
towards Mazatlan. We didn't have much wind, but the swell was
increasing dramatically. I went below to triple-check the weather
forecasts I had downloaded on the computer. At that moment a large
wave gave the boat a big shove, confusing the autopilot so much that
the boat did a spontaneous 360 degree turn. Suddenly the radio came
to life again, this time with two boats discussing a weather forecast they
had heard on their single side-band radios. "This is no time to be
crossing the Sea of Cortez," one boat said. "I did it once in conditions
like this but it was a nightmare." "Yeah, the next good weather window
won't be until Friday."
Unnerved, we decided to forge ahead anyways. Turning around would have put us in back in Cabo well after dark, and
nothing I had seen in the forecast seemed all that foreboding. As it turned out, the wind never did pick up much over the next
55 hours, but the swell threw the boat all over the ocean. It was as though the sea gods were playing volleyball, and a
thousand hands were reaching up and tossing us back and forth. The boat lurched and heaved, rising up and falling over as
one wave after another rolled under it, each coming from a slightly different direction. During the daytime it wasn't frightening,
but the two nights were very long and disturbing. I have never been so grateful to see the moon. It was like a great white
round friend in the sky, shining a bright path towards us throughout each entire night.
For all the pitching and rolling, the only casualty besides our own bruised bodies
and strained emotions was the stainless steel teapot. I had just filled it and put it
on the stove to make some coffee when a particularly large wave lifted the boat
and hurled it several boat lengths to one side, sending the teapot into a swan dive.
It landed on the stairs, denting the side.
Two flying fish sustained worse injuries. These little guys have fins that they use
like wings, and they jump out of the water and flap their fins like mad, flying 50
yards at a time just above the surface of the water. In the dead of night two of
them did their flying stunt only to find themselves unexpectedly lying in our cockpit.
In the morning we found a little trail of blood droplets showing their sad path as
they ricocheted to their deaths at the base of the wheel.
But the heart-stopping
moments of the long
nights were soon forgotten as we finally approached the mainland.
Not having seen a single boat since leaving Cabo, our big "Land Ho!"
moment was obscured by a thick layer of fog. We noticed the air was
much warmer and thicker as we sailed into the tropics. We passed
quite a few sea turtles and noticed there were unfamiliar bugs landing
on the boat.
The Costa Alegre is a quiet 100 mile
stretch of the mainland coast that is
filled with pretty anchorages, bays and
palm fringed beaches. We were aiming
for Manzanillo, the city at the
southernmost end of this region, but
our pace would have put us there in the
dark, so we stopped at Chamela at the
northern end instead. Scanning the
horizon, we saw lots of little beach
bungalows peaking out from behind the
cover of coconut palm trees.
A few homes were lovely villas and estates, and at the north end of
the bay was a cluster of beachfront restaurants.
We quickly launched the kayak and took a walk along the
beach. A large fleet of pangas sat high on the beach,
but no one was around.
The restaurants had tables and seating
for a huge crowd, but we saw only one
pair of Gringos and one Mexican couple
at any of them. This gave the bay a
wonderfully remote air, but it was eerie to
see a party set up with no one attending.
We came across the Punta Perula Trailer Park, and wandered in, taking photos of
the fantastic vacant RV sites that overlook the ocean. "Can I help you?" a woman
asked, coming out of a motorhome. As we chatted we discovered that this was
her fourth winter at the park, and that it is always full by this time of year.
However, only two sites were taken. She had been emailing all of her RVing
friends -- friends who had been coming to Mexico with her for the past ten winters
-- and they had all been scared off by the bad press about Mexico. Apparently
Arizona was bursting at the seams with RVers who decided not to go south of the
border this year.
What a shame. Smearing Mexico in the media may be helping
the US and Canadian economies by keeping tourist dollars at
home, but travelers are losing out on some really good times
and good deals further south. This beachfront park, one of
several on this bay, is lovely and costs just $350 a month.
Of course, that is more than some RVers wish to pay, and
we had to admire a young fellow in a van boondocking on his
own private stretch of beach next to the park. He said he
had never been bothered in all his boondocking travels along
the Baja peninsula and mainland Mexican coast. But a
quarter mile further on we met couple in a beautiful Class A
motorhome who had gotten a knock on their door from the
police in the wee hours when they boondocked overlooking
this beach. Fortunately, friends they had made in town had
room in their backyard for a motorhome where they could
stay. Ulltimately, these friends installed full hookups, paid for
by the RVers, so they could stay all winter and return in the future.
Having been among sailors for the past ten months, I
was happily reminded what amazing travelers RVers
are. While we were proud of sailing down the coast
to get to this beach, hearing the RVers compare
notes with each other about driving through Mazatlán
versus Guadalajara to get here, we realized how
much more of Mexico they have seen. They all said
they felt safer this year than any year prior on their
drive south because of the increased police
presence. We will seek out coastal RV parks in the
future to get the lay of the land, and to get a quick fix
sitting around in camp chairs.
Back on the beach, the little bars at the north end were
beckoning. For the first time in months we could feel
ourselves beginning to unwind. Boat preparations and
projects behind us, and the bulk of our big sail south
completed, we could return to being our natural selves,
exploring the world around us.
As we sat staring out at the water a group of
fishermen landed their panga. They
unloaded the day's catch into a rusty old
truck without headlights. Then they hooked
the boat up to the truck and towed it up to
higher ground. After the boat dug into the
sand and refused to budge, they filled two
plastic liter bottles with water, put them
under the boat, and tow-rolled it the rest of
the way in.
We continued to relax, not ready to sail again
right away, letting the days tumble seamlessly
into each other. One morning we sat in the
dinghy chatting with other boaters in the
anchorage when a boat loaded with children flew
past. As they went by the kids suddenly all
called out in unison, "Good Morning!" Their
smiles were infectious, and we waved back
enthusiastically, "Buenos Dias!"
Another day we wandered
into the little town of
Perula, following the
narrow paved road that
runs parallel to the beach.
Christmas preparations
were already underway,
and a nativity crêche was
set up under a tree in the
town center.
A bandstand looked ready
for an outdoor concert,
surrounded by attractive
plantings, green grass and park
benches.
We passed several small grocery stores with fresh produce for sale.
Other stores were selling all kinds of things, from tire repair to
hardware. The pace was slow and nourishing.
We found ourselves at another outdoor eatery -- who can
resist dollar beers and quesadillas? Even for Thanksgiving
dinner! It was such a pleasant atmosphere in this bay, we
could have stayed longer.
But we eventually pried ourselves away, heading to the
southern end of the Costa Alegre and our planned
turnaround point, Manzanillo. Once there, we could begin
our official "cruise," harbor hopping north for eight months
at a snail's pace.
Find Chamela on Mexico Maps
Visit Anchorages on the "Mexican Riviera" (northern Pacific coast) to see more cruising posts from this area!