Bill Ahrens and I sailed out at 4 p.m. Wednesday, Nov 1. We were accompanied by Scott Sebree and Loretta Peto on "Half Cat" and the brothers Wellington on "Alissa"-another Catalina 25. It was blowing hard from the NW with very lumpy seas and lots of spray. We decided to duck into Catalina Cove for a few hours and see if things would calm down a bit. At 11 p.m. it seemed better, so we went out and told the others we'd report back.
    Once around Punta Doble at the entrance to the San Carlos channel, we found winds in the low twenties, but the seas were now regular with no drenching spray, so we called the other folks out and off we went. About an hour later the Wellingtons called and said they had a weather report (how they got THAT no one knows) which indicated bad stuff ahead, and they were turning back. We said bye bye and continued. The night was fine; we are lying with the storm jib and a single reef.
    Along about dawn (05:30) the wind went down into the teens, the sun shone brightly, we started the engine and changed to the working jib. Then proceeded into Santa Rosalia about 2 p.m. Cleaned up and went to inner at the chicken place. Very good.
    Let's see, that was Thursday. Nov 2-the DAY OF THE DEAD. Brrrr. Crowds of people climbing the hill to the cemetery to put out decorations and food for their deceased relative and friends. The town was very, very quiet. The port captain was closed, and, we were told, might not reopen due to a government employees' strike. That was good news, and we slept well that night. Even the squid fishermen in their noisy pangas took the night off, which made things really spookily silent. They usually zoom out at sunset and return whenever their open boats are loaded with big (5 to ten feet long) squid. That means they ROAR back into the harbor at irregular intervals all night long.     
    Friday. Nov 3, we heard that the port captain was, indeed, open, so with heavy hearts we embarked on the paper work rounds. This time, however, we knew the drill and went to all three offices (immigration, customs, and port captain) and got everything done smoothly. Total time-including filling out and copying the leaving paper one hour and fifteen minutes. Definitely a new record!
    Scott and Loretta were impressed. They had heard the many horror stories of the Santa Rosalia shuffle and its trips back and forth to the pharmacia with its copy machine.
    We spent the rest of the day ratting around the town visiting the Eiffel church, the mining museum (closed, naturally, but we peered in through the windows), and the old hotel which used to house visiting French dignitaries during the hey day of the French-run copper mine. Had a nice dinner at a pretty restaurant called "El Muelle" downtown. Mark it for a visit next time.
    Saturday morning Nov 4, much to our wondering eyes' surprise, there were the Wellingtons tied up (their boat, that's) in the dock at our pier (how's that, Bo?). A word about them. Richard W. owns "Alissa" which he sails mainly on Lake Mead. His older bro, Roy, lives in Granville, 0, and sails an Island Packet 30 on Lake Erie. Roy is a CO Auxiliary type and does everything by the book. He had more fancy navigation gear than I had ever seen before. Richard had heard of our cruise when I sent some stuff about our voyage to Loreto and Escondido last May to the "Catalina Mainsheet" (a magazine for Catalina owners). Anyhow, they were too late to do the paperwork since immigration is closed on Saturday.
    We wanted to shove off for Mulege, and Scott and Loretta decided to stay put, take a cab to Mulege (their boat has too much draft to get in there) for the pig roast, and go on to Concepcion with "Alissa" Monday.
    We sailed easily south, past Punta Chivato with its newly remodeled and reopened hotel, and were lining up for Mulege around 4 p.m. Bill decided to take the tiller, and I was checking the compass for the passage in.
    Bill is a very confident guy. Perhaps a bit too confident. We were idling along, and he says, "No reason why we can't go a little fasten" And he nudges the throttle up somewhat. About this time I'm saying, "come right a bit," and was about to say, "bring her back down to idle." It's my fault that I did not say that first.
    Then the rocks appeared. The right turn would have done it, but we were going a tad too fast. We bonked a rock with the port side of our hull then slid on into the Harbor, anchored, and took a look at the gouge. We were not taking on any water, and a look through the mask showed merely a scratch in the gel coat, some paint scraped off, and no serious damage.
    We dinghied in got a room at the Hotel Serenidad (site of the famous Saturday night pig roasts) and took turns showering and preening for the evening's festivities. Someone knocked on the door, and there stood Scott, Loretta, and the brothers W! They had succeeded in getting a cab to take them the 80-mile round trip for $50. Including a three-hour wait whilst they ate. The dinner was fine; they left around 9, and we retired around midnight.
    Sunday. Nov 5, Bill and I toured the town, checked the anchor and hull once more, and talked to a local yachtie who informed us of another, MUCH BETTER, channel into the harbon Ask me for the updated info, or call Rick on channel 16 as you approach that cute little town.
    Monday morning. Nov 6, 1 did the port captain stuff there. Jose Miguel is a nice old abuelo-type who remembered me from previous trips. He banged away on his huge Olympia typewriter and produced impressive documents, which he stamped profusely with many flourishes, and we were off for Concepcion, where we arrived shortly after noon and anchored in 25 feet on a smooth sand bottom.
    The northwest of comer of Concepcion is called Bahie Coyote and contains four or five very good anchorage's. We chose the northernmost, Playa Santispac, for its protection from north winds (the wind had shifted to that quadrant and was now blowing in the twenties) and proximity to its fine restaurant.
    Not long after, Scott and Loretta showed up and anchored near us. The Wellington's were still in Sta. R. and were undecided as to where to go next.
    We all ate a fine meal at Ray's Place on the beach. This is a palapa-style building (palm-thatched roof) with a shell floor, and world-class food. Ray Limon is a Cubano who was raised in the San Fernando Valley (talks valley-speak quite fluently). I'm not sure what brought him to this particular beach in Mexico, and one does not ask too many questions in these situations. At any rate, we're glad he's there-super restaurant.
    We retired early and listened to the howling norther moan and groan as the boat shuddered at the end of the anchor rode.
    Tuesday. Nov 7 Election Day, we took a long walk to the east past Punta Piedrita out to Punta Arena. The norther was still blowing hard; typical high-pressure weather in the northern Gulf: bright blue sky, crystal clear air, and big whitecaps on a cobalt sea. We walked out past the point and talked with some of the RV denizens who hole up there.
    They are an eccentric lot who derives some pleasure from strange pastimes. For instance, they have created the "Punta Arena Golf and Country Club Members and Guests only Check in at Pro Shop." Of course, there is no pro shop, but there are eighteen holes: Tee markers pounded into the sand (each with a distinctive name such as "St. Andrews Number Nine") and flag sticks placed in the middle of a circle raked in the sandy gravel. People actually play some sort of game; they carry old clubs and a piece of Astrotuff, which is placed under the ball-when they can find same.
    We hiked back, and some of us were rather tired, so naps were in order. That night we had a potluck on "Half Cat." Loretta stirred up tasty cruisers' mishmash, and Scott played bartender with vodka and Crystal Light. He also played some of his favorite CD's. Bill and I enjoyed two of them. The wind still a-howl, we dinghied back to "Nina" and crashed somewhere near our bunks.
    Wednesday. Nov. 8, we got on the VHF and asked about the elections. Wow! What a mess of surprises which continue as I write this thing. Since it seemed a bit calmer, Bill and I pulled the anchor at 0800, "Half Cat" not far behind. As we rounded Punta Piedrita, the full norther blasted us with lots of spray and discomfort. Being prudent mariners, we executed a 180 and returned to the anchorage, "Half Cat" not far behind.
    With nothing much on our agenda (except to wait for the norther to blow itself out), we walked around the west side of the bay down to Playa Concepcion and visited the Eco Mundo resort. This is a collection of beach houses surrounding a restaurant/bookstore/shower and bathroom area. The owner, Roy Mahoff, is a transplanted beach boy from Santa Monica. He runs a nice, clean establishment and rents out kayaks for guided tours of the area. In addition, there is a hot spring in the shallow water in front of the joint where one can sit and sip a cool one in the warm water It's a neat place, and you can get more info by e-mailing ecomundo@aol.com.
    This hiking was getting rather old for Bill, so we strolled back to Ray's for snacks, libations, and a short dinner before being blown back in the dinks to the boats.
    During the night-at last-the wind moderated, and Thursday, Nov. 9, 0600 did us done with the coffee and PBJ sandwiches. We hauled the anchors up and took off for San Carlos. Quite a few other boats had been near us, riding out the high winds, and soon we were surrounded by big sail-boats, most of which would round Punta Concepcion and head south toward La Paz, Cabo San Lucas, and other destinations such as Mazatlan and Puerto Vallarta.
    Pleasant and mercifully uneventful our crossing was. We did see two small pods of whales spouting and waving their flukes about playfully. "Half Cat" was near us the whole way, and we both glided into the San Carlos channel at 10:30 p.m.

    EPILOGUE
    The next day we found the Wellington brothers in their slip. They had made an attempt to get to Punta Chivato, but had adverse winds, nasty seas, and a folding dinghy, which disappeared as they were trying to fight their way around the last point. We felt bad for them. Their timing was off by a day, and they did not have much fun. I told them we hoped they would have a better time next time, but they replied, "Don't think there will be a next time." C'est la vie in the sea~of Cortez.
    Scott and Loretta had to stay through the weekend to provide "Half Cat" as the committee boat for the regatta. Bill and I helped set marks Saturday morning, then got "Nina" on the trailer, cleaned up and ready for my work party in January. We got back Sunday afternoon, a bit tired, but apparently healthy.

I hope you enjoyed this little account. Will send pictures later.