Blowin Like Stink

the morning after

A Tehuantepec Experience

Ketch 22 in a Blow

Early January , 2008

Approaching the Gulfo De Tehuantepec off Southern Mexico

We spent the night behind a breakwater in a very sheltered nook near a small fishing village in Southern Mexico. Having been a couple days at sea, it was pleasant to pull into such a sheltered waters for an evenings rest. After dropping the hook, the three of us sat on deck relaxing, just waiting for sun to go down. I noticed a lot of fisherman, both shore based and water based, fishing from pangas , the ubiquitous Mexican small fishing craft. The fishing was good, and the fishing lines were cutting swaths thru the lightly rippled water, shimmering in the late afternoon sun. One of the pangas happened to be heading our way, so smelling fish, dinner and an opportunity, I flagged them down and asked ?se vende pescado? A wide grin and several large and small Dorado, also known as Mahi Mahi (although apparently not in Mexico), were dragged from the bottom of the well worn and ice packed panga. We settled on 50 pesos (about $5 USD) as a fair price, and the Dorado was ours and the panga was off. The sundown and dinner were extraordinarily sweet that evening.

Heading out the next day near sun up, the day looked promising, and little did I know of the drama to come. The winds were light as we started, but slowly built to an ideal 12 to 15 knots in a broad reach. As the day wore on, the winds slowly died to a level that had me starting to think about dropping sail and firing up the diesel. When the winds died completely, I had just started getting ready to drop sail, when the winds abruptly shifted forward of the beam and hit us hard. After knocking us on our ears briefly, the wind steadied and after a sail trim, we were moving. 'Good news', I was thinking to myself, just about the time the wind tapered off once again. Rather odd behavior for the wind I remember thinking, not yet understanding what was happening. As the boat speed bled off to near zero again, I was thinking about dropping sail once again when, wham, the pattern repeated itself. The wind doesn't behave this way, I remember thinking. Being only partially correct, the wind settled into a less comfortable but steady 18 to 22 knots, setting a baseline for winds that would continue to build as the evening wore into the night. The moderate seas we started out with were now building to 5 to 6 feet on the nose. Darkness settling in, I stayed on deck thru the shift change, wanting to get a feel for the wind and sea state before settling for some sleep. Slightly uncomfortable motion but easily managed with the existing reef in the mizzen, Ketch 22 kept us on a course direct to Huatulco , a very sheltered community near the western edge of El Gulfo De Tehuantepec, a sea known for high winds and steep choppy seas when conditions were right. Finally settling in below to get some sleep, I left the helm in the hands of the crew and slowly nodded off.

The wake up call came too quick in the too early morning hours. The wind was howling by now, a steady 25 to 30 knots and gusting to 35. The sea state was getting ever more awkward, waves between 6 to 9 feet, and building. The thought of turning back did occur, but I hated to lose the ground we had already gained with such effort. Rick and I reefed the main at the shift change, and we settled into the cockpit trying to hang on, when suddenly a terrible metallic banging occurred behind my head which scared the bejesus out of me before I realized it was just the lid to the barbecue, still safely tethered to the port side stanchion. The wind had now clocked around such that we were on a port tack, and I had to clamber over spilled life vests in the cockpit sole to get to the wildly banging lid. Quickly realizing that it wasn't going to stay attached for long, I laboriously wrapped it around the stanchion as best I could and slid back to the security of the cockpit, and ducked in behind the dodger.

It being increasingly difficult to steer a course, I left the job to the autopilot, and ducked behind the dodger stayed out of the wind and spray that was the inevitable result of sitting at the helm. The wind and waves were still building, and we were now experiencing a steady 35 knots, with gusts to 40. Waves were building also, and we were now seeing steep 10 to 12 foot wave heights when I dared to look. My real fear was breaking waves, and in the faint moonlight that was available to me, I could see an occasional breaker, but none near enough to us to cause any real concern. Exhausted, I hated to desert Rick, but I needed to get some sleep if I was to be of any use on my next shift. Unknown to us at the time, the autopilot had been incorrectly and inexplicably switched to standby. It is a testament to Ron Holland, the designer of Ketch 22, that she held a course with an apparently perfectly balanced, reefed main and mizzen. At any rate, I slept thru it, and Rick told me at the next shift change that he had to eventually put the autopilot back on-line after making a routine course adjustment and realizing the discrepancy between his input course commands and the resultant course change.

The morning brought daylight and moderating winds and the same awkward sea state we experienced most of the night. Only a few hours from Huatulco at this point, I was definitely not going to turn back unless conditions worsened considerably. Fortunately the winds continued to moderate and within a few hours we were we able to tuck into the shelter of the bluffs protecting Huatulco and dropped sail so we could motor into the marina. The contrast couldn't have been more stark. Dead calm in the marina, the three of us relaxed and made ready for margarita time and the coming sundown. I later found out from Enrique the harbor master that the winds were blowing 80 knots thru the center of the Gulfo Tehuantepec, about 60 miles East of our present location. We had only experienced the collateral damage. Not sure how hard it blew that night, but my mast head wind meter has not worked since. Bummer. The next big challenge would come from the Papagayo winds, a little further to the south, but that would be a different day's sail.

All's well that ends well!