We're back in Loreto to check on the status of our alternator. Alas, the rebuild was unsuccessful and so we're getting a new one. We'll make one more trip into Loreto to pick it up in a couple of days.
We've been out on Isla Carmen, where we spent several lovely days at two separate anchorages - Bahia Marquer and Puerto Ballandra (check out our googlemap). Two nights ago, at Ballandra, we experienced our first chubasco (pronounced chew-BOSS-ko).
Chubascos are stout winds that accompany lightning/thunder storms, much like thunderstorms generated in the mountains. The winds may or many not be accompanied by rain. Chubascos suddenly appear, typically late in the evening or wee hours of the morning, and apparently can generate winds up to 70 knots and last up to a few hours.
We had heard about these wind events, and knew that we were likely to encounter them on our northward journey. We had also been forewarned that chubasco winds would blow unsecured items off decks and rip or blow down sunshades. For this reason, many sailboats remove their sunshades at before going to bed. It's a lot of work, but worth it if a chubasco suddenly hits. We had not gotten into this habit. But are likely to start being a bit more conscientious about loose items now that we've experienced our first chubasco.
Our chubasco event started around 11 p.m. We had just gone to bed when Dan heard the wind rattling our rigging, so he went on deck to check things out. He called down to Lisa to come up and help take down the sunshade, as it looked like the winds were picking up. We quickly took down the sunshade and windscoop and things that were hanging out to dry. Lisa went below and secured items that might be thrown to the floor if the boat were to start rocking and rolling.
Quickly, the winds picked up and started howling through the rigging. The next day we heard that the winds only hit about 35 knots (kts), but we and Isis think they occasionally gusted higher than that (maybe to 50 kts). The blow lasted for two hours. It was quite exciting, and slightly unnerving, as we were anchored relatively close to a rock ledge on one side, a rocky beach on another, a rocky reef on the third side, and boats on our fourth side. Winds were predominantly blowing us toward the rock ledge, so we kept a flashlight trained on the shore to monitor our distance from the rocks. We knew that if we hadn't done a good job of setting our anchor it could start dragging and Rumiko could be blown into the rocks. But our anchor held, and so that made us feel good. Nonetheless, we decided not to tempt chubasco gods by staying in that tight cove. We reanchored the next morning after most of the other boats moved out of Ballandra.
The crew on Isis had an exciting night, too. A huge powerboat anchored close to them dragged and passed within 50 feet of their boat. Much too close for comfort. Later, a strong gust caused Isis' dinghy, which was in the water, to flip, submerging their dinghy motor. Thankfully, another gust flipped the dinghy right-side-up, otherwise it would not have been possible to wrestle the motor off the dinghy. When the wind died down a bit, Burke and Kacey were able to get the motor off the dinghy and on to Isis, flush it with fresh water, and get it running again. They had radioed us and told us what had happened, so when we heard their dinghy motor start putt-putt-ing we shouted out a big yahoo! Little Quinn was sleeping during chubasco - or so Burke and Kacey thought. But in the morning when Quinn got up he said that he had heard the wind and noticed the boat rocking, and at one point he thought they might be experiencing a "twister." But he never cried, he never even called out. He just snuggled deeper in his bed. What an amazing kid.
We are pleased that we survived our first chubasco without any scars or trauma. But again, we are reminded of the power of the elements, and how we need to be vigilant and prepared for what might occur.
We've been out on Isla Carmen, where we spent several lovely days at two separate anchorages - Bahia Marquer and Puerto Ballandra (check out our googlemap). Two nights ago, at Ballandra, we experienced our first chubasco (pronounced chew-BOSS-ko).
Chubascos are stout winds that accompany lightning/thunder storms, much like thunderstorms generated in the mountains. The winds may or many not be accompanied by rain. Chubascos suddenly appear, typically late in the evening or wee hours of the morning, and apparently can generate winds up to 70 knots and last up to a few hours.
We had heard about these wind events, and knew that we were likely to encounter them on our northward journey. We had also been forewarned that chubasco winds would blow unsecured items off decks and rip or blow down sunshades. For this reason, many sailboats remove their sunshades at before going to bed. It's a lot of work, but worth it if a chubasco suddenly hits. We had not gotten into this habit. But are likely to start being a bit more conscientious about loose items now that we've experienced our first chubasco.
Our chubasco event started around 11 p.m. We had just gone to bed when Dan heard the wind rattling our rigging, so he went on deck to check things out. He called down to Lisa to come up and help take down the sunshade, as it looked like the winds were picking up. We quickly took down the sunshade and windscoop and things that were hanging out to dry. Lisa went below and secured items that might be thrown to the floor if the boat were to start rocking and rolling.Quickly, the winds picked up and started howling through the rigging. The next day we heard that the winds only hit about 35 knots (kts), but we and Isis think they occasionally gusted higher than that (maybe to 50 kts). The blow lasted for two hours. It was quite exciting, and slightly unnerving, as we were anchored relatively close to a rock ledge on one side, a rocky beach on another, a rocky reef on the third side, and boats on our fourth side. Winds were predominantly blowing us toward the rock ledge, so we kept a flashlight trained on the shore to monitor our distance from the rocks. We knew that if we hadn't done a good job of setting our anchor it could start dragging and Rumiko could be blown into the rocks. But our anchor held, and so that made us feel good. Nonetheless, we decided not to tempt chubasco gods by staying in that tight cove. We reanchored the next morning after most of the other boats moved out of Ballandra.
The crew on Isis had an exciting night, too. A huge powerboat anchored close to them dragged and passed within 50 feet of their boat. Much too close for comfort. Later, a strong gust caused Isis' dinghy, which was in the water, to flip, submerging their dinghy motor. Thankfully, another gust flipped the dinghy right-side-up, otherwise it would not have been possible to wrestle the motor off the dinghy. When the wind died down a bit, Burke and Kacey were able to get the motor off the dinghy and on to Isis, flush it with fresh water, and get it running again. They had radioed us and told us what had happened, so when we heard their dinghy motor start putt-putt-ing we shouted out a big yahoo! Little Quinn was sleeping during chubasco - or so Burke and Kacey thought. But in the morning when Quinn got up he said that he had heard the wind and noticed the boat rocking, and at one point he thought they might be experiencing a "twister." But he never cried, he never even called out. He just snuggled deeper in his bed. What an amazing kid.
We are pleased that we survived our first chubasco without any scars or trauma. But again, we are reminded of the power of the elements, and how we need to be vigilant and prepared for what might occur.
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