Huat’s Up? Crossing the Tehuantepec

 

Screenshot of the weather forecast app, Windy, showing the next T-pecer
coming in about a week.  Gusts are predicted to blow 50+ knots.

The Challenge of the Tehuantepec Gulf

We arrived in the small coastal town Huatulco (waa tool kow), Oaxaca (waa haa kuh) after crossing the notorious Gulf of Tehuantepec (tuh wahn tuh pek).  For weeks we studied and agonized over the wind intensities that streamed blue, green, yellow, red and purple on weather models mapped over our proposed route.

For mariners, the Tehuantepec Gulf is one of the most respected bodies of water in the region for good reason. Beginning in the fall and continuing to early spring of each year, a violent north wind (“mountain gap wind”) originates in the Bay of Campeche in eastern Mexico and travels through the Chievela Pass on the isthmus. “T-pecers”, as they are called, are commonly sustained gale force winds (>25 kts) with even higher gusts. On occasion the winds may be over hurricane force (> 75 kts). Similar to putting your thumb on the end of a garden hose, the geography of the isthmus and mountains compress and increase the force of the winds that blow from shore and far out to sea. These winds can be relentless for 4-5 days or more, only to die down for a few days and then begin again.   

It is not just the winds but the waves propagated by the T-pecers that demand attention. Wave height and period are influenced by the force and the duration of the winds, as well as, the fetch, or the size of the area over which the winds blow. Combine the extremes of the high winds that blow for days over a large area, and the seas will build to dangerous and frightening conditions for even the most seasoned sailor.  Wave heights in such extreme conditions can be over 20 feet.

 

Watching and waiting for the monster to go to sleep

We imagined we were waiting for the mythical “monster” of the t-pecer wind to take a nap. To traverse the Tehuantepec Gulf going either north or south, sailors typically time their passage to coincide with a lull when the winds and seas have died down, at least for a few days. One strategy is to time the crossing with light winds and motor as fast as you can on a direct line to the other side. Another strategy is to “keep one foot on shore”, or follow close to shore (1/4 to 1 mile) to reduce the wind and “unkindly” seas.

 We waited, watched, and finally, along with two other sailboats, we saw the weather models project that the winds would decrease and remain low for several days. Although the lighter winds were not optimal for sailing, we were prepared and happy to motor the entire passage if we needed to.

Sunset at Marina Chiapas as we wait for a weather window

Recall cruising sailboats, including Leilani, are not racing boats. We use an average of about 5-6 knots (~ 5.7-6.9 mph) to estimate our passage time. We decided to stay close to shore and take the longer passage of about 250 miles. We made a conservative estimate of about 48 hours to make it across to our destination, Huatulco.

The track from our passage across the Tehuantepec Bay. 
We stayed close to shore, around 5 miles offshore, for most of the passage,
but hugged the coast as we approached the strongest winds. 

How did it go?

We left Marina Chiapas around 4 pm on November 9^th, with just enough light to navigate out the channel and after a 48 hour passage, allow us to arrive in daylight.  Seas were fairly calm and winds were light, around 5 knots.  We put up the genoa and anxiously motor-sailed toward the T-pecers.  About 10 hours into the passage the winds picked up to around 15 knots and continued to increase to 20-30 knots as we navigated through the strongest section of the T-pecers, with gusts up to 33 knots.  With a current in our favor and the genoa double reefed, we were cruising over 7 knots.  As soon as we cleared the shipping lanes at Salina Cruz and hugged the coast, the winds started decreasing.  The worst of the passage was over.  About 42 hours from when we left, we arrived at our anchorage in Bahia Conejos.  After dropping the anchor and having a celebratory rum, it was time for a much needed nap.

Sunrise on the first morning

A witch moth joined us for part of our journey.

Conditions were comfortable just before the winds started picking up.

We had a bit more wind than expected, but the winds were manageable.  Keeping the genoa sail to the size of a handkerchief ensured we wouldn't overpower the boat, and gave us some extra speed.  We averaged 6 knots over the passage, which got us to the anchorage about 6 hours earlier than expected.  It also meant that we arrived at the strongest winds sooner than expected and before they calmed down completely. 

Pelicans dove into fish balls like this one just before the winds really picked up.

Sunset on the second evening

 Taking in the new scenery as we approach Huatulco

We hope you all will have wonderful holiday season. We will be moving on north to Acapulco in about a week. That is the extent of our plans for now.

 

Shinrin Yoku - Forest Bathing

 

We have moved from Shelter Bay Marina and transited the Panama Canal aboard Leilani! We are currently on the Pacific Ocean side waiting for paperwork and good weather windows to move on.

We will present more on the crossing in an upcoming post. For now, we share some of the extraordinary nature we "bathed in" over this past year. 

It was an extraordinary year. It may surprise you to say that, remarkably, we were happy in Shelter Bay Marina. Despite the extended curfews and lock-downs that further isolated us from the rest of Panama and the world, we were mostly content in our bubble with fellow sailors and Panamanians.

We know that our contentment was enhanced primarily by one thing – We had a forest as our back yard. 

Recently, Steph from the sailing vessel, Matador, thanked us for sharing the walk and remarked that our walk had some of the qualities of the therapeutic Japanese practice of shinrin yoku, in English, forest bathing. We were delighted to learn that shinrin yoku, is not exercise, or hiking, or jogging. It is simply being in nature connecting with it through your senses. 

While we admit we are often a bit more directed and purpose-driven on our nature walks than might be dictated by ‘pure’ forest bathing for example, as we focus to see if the sloth has returned, or if that bird call is the chestnut mandibled toucan, we have been able to enjoy the fundamental benefits of health and happiness from the forest as shinrin yoku provides.

We cannot share all of our sensory experiences from our immersion in the forest, but we have selected some photos that we hope may give you a glimpse, a taste, a smell, a sound, and a feel of the forest that was our backyard.

 

We miss our nature walks with our fellow sailors. We know we were incredibly fortunate to be renewed and invigorated over and over again by nature.

UPCOMING POST: Canal Transit - the routine and the drama

Dispatch: Sheltering in Shelter Bay during a Pandemic

One of our neighbors, a three toed sloth, in Shelter Bay, Panama.

Things have changed

Things have changed. Things have changed for us, for you, and for the entire world.

We hope you all are well and practicing safe social distancing. We are just fine and doing the same here, thank you. 

Shelter Bay Marina is our new home. We are glad to be here.

We are “sheltering in place” aboard Leilani in Shelter Bay Marina on the Atlantic Ocean side of the entrance to the Panama Canal across from the city of Colón, Panama.

It is said that sailors make their plans in the sand- the sand of a beach at low tide. As we have often repeated, sailing is more about intentions than plans and schedules.

Before we left Bocas del Toro, Panama we decided we would not make the crossing to the South Pacific this year, and instead, would remain in the region, primarily to explore the enchanting isles of San Blas.  The complicated process of applying for an extended stay (up to 1 year vs. 90 days) visa in French Polynesia further dissuaded us from heading into the Pacific as it would entail jumping through many hoops (e.g. sending our passports, proof of vaccinations, and assorted forms to Tahiti) which would ultimately delay any crossing this year by at least a couple of months.

Of course, we could not know at the time how important it was for us to postpone that voyage. Virtually the entire South Pacific is now essentially closed to most foreign vessels.

The Canal in a Pandemic 

We intended to make only a brief stop here in Shelter Bay to wait for a weather window to head to San Blas. That was over a month ago.

We waited for the weather window to go San Blas, but the winds did not let up.

And when they did, we had no place else to go.

"Diablo Beach" is a short hike from the marina. There are usually about 20+ ships anchored out there each day.

Since the COVID-19 fire began to smolder in China and South Korea, and then rage around the globe, we saw more restrictions on the movements of people being implemented by Panamanian authorities. We saw that these restrictions presented unprecedented challenges to those seeking to cross the canal.   

A view to the northeast looking out at the ships in the anchorage waiting to enter the Panama Canal

The canal of course was built as the portal to connect oceans. For most of the cruising sailors that gather at this unique location, especially at this time of year, the canal is more than a series of locks and lakes that connect the Atlantic to the Pacific Oceans. Crossing the canal is the realization of a dream, a major achievement and the culmination of years of planning and perseverance.

As the Panama Canal officials began to impose more restrictive policies, implementation of the restrictions became more erratic and confusing. Boats were in limbo with on-again off-again restrictions on the canal crossings. We knew it was inevitable. The canal is now closed for all vessels less than 65 feet to reduce potential virus exposure among the personnel who were required to board and accompany all boats crossing the canal. Nobody knows when the canal will open again for the smaller boats.

Some boats, including those that were able to cross the canal before the closure, are now stuck either in the anchorage or in the marina on both sides of the canal. There are perhaps nearly 200 boats in the Shelter Bay Marina, the only marina on the Atlantic side of the canal. A great deal of uncertainty remains as restrictions change almost daily.

We have learned that the South Pacific, including various destinations such as the Galapagos, French Polynesia, Tonga, Fiji, New Zealand, and Australia and more, are closed to all vessels. Some boats are waiting and hoping for change, possibly in a couple of weeks. Others have accepted the new reality - this is not going to be the year for further voyages.

The boats that were able to depart for the South Pacific before travel restrictions went into effect, will now face significant uncertainties when they arrive anywhere in that vast expanse of the South Pacific. That uncertainty pretty much applies to anybody going virtually anywhere now by boat. The Caribbean, the Mediterranean, and beyond, are also closed.     

We live in a new Village

We had never really thought about the question – Where would you want to be during a pandemic?

We are quite happy with our choice to shelter in place here at the Shelter Bay Marina. The Marina is located on the former US military base, Fort Sherman, across the bay about 30 miles from the city of Colón. We are fairly secure now with multiple checkpoints for anybody coming in or going out of the facility. No vessels can enter the marina and must remain anchored outside until they have cleared through the authorities. All foreign vessels must abide by the 14-day quarantine. 

Map of our "playground". The marina is located near "Sherman".

Although the previous free, twice-daily trips to town for shopping provided by the marina ceased about a week ago, we now shop at the small, but well-stocked (no alcohol) mini-market. The restaurant continues to provide take-out delivery. We still have fairly extensive provisions onboard Leilani so we shop at the mini-market primarily for the “this and that”. For boats anchored outside the marina, the marina staff (the “riders on the storm”) deliver food and water orders daily by dinghies. The staff is now just a skeleton crew that remains onsite 24/7 (some with their families) at the marina. Many of the cruisers contribute to clean the bathrooms and public spaces, stock the store, and assist with completing food orders. We have become a village.      

The anchorage with some of the sailboats waiting in quarantine before being allowed to enter the marina

The "riders on the storm" deliver provisions to the boats in quarantine in the anchorage.

Our back yard is a tropical forest

There are a lot of things we are not doing.  While sailors can be quite an independent lot, they are often quite social too, and the restrictions are a bit of a challenge. We are not swimming. The pool is closed, and the crocodile we thought was only a myth has recently returned to prowl the marina waters. We aren’t playing Mexican Train dominos because you simply cannot “social distance” while playing dominos. We have no community Wednesday Happy Hour or Sunday pot luck for the same reason. Similarly, we don’t spend much time talking to others or walking the docks as we used to. 

It is a beautiful swimming pool...we miss it.

American Crocodile near our boat persuaded us from swimming.

There are a lot of things we are doing.  Most of the day we just hang out on Leilani, doing a variety of newly found boat and sewing chores, and we greet our neighbors from a distance in abbreviated conversations as they walk along the dock.

Latest boat project completed

Nearly every morning, after listening to the latest news provided on the Cruisers Net on the VHF radio, we grab our cameras and go for a walk. As voluntarily unemployed biologists, we delight in exploring this playground - our backyard. Shelter Bay Marina occupies a small part of waterfront of the former US Military Base, Fort Sherman, which was built within several thousand acres of tropical coastal forest. (The base was turned over to Panama, along with the management of the canal, in 1999). Although the forest has not been what could be remotely called “pristine” for perhaps a century or more, nature has begun to reclaim the areas no longer occupied by humans.

We have seen monkeys, Coati Mundis (Gatos Solo), Toucans and more along this path.

We often see monkeys along this path.

Path to Diablo Beach 

Its a jungle out there.

As in scenes of a Sci-Fi apocalypse movie, we walk paths among deteriorating ruins, some recognizable as concrete bunkers, and gun batteries. Other structures, obscured by the the jungle overgrowth, remain mysterious as to their former purposes.  

Gun Battery Mower hidden in the jungle

We hike each day, sometimes along different paths to a beach, a small stream, or the entrance to the National Park (closed). We are eager to get off the boat and to add to the list of critters we have sighted. The forest rewards us. Each day we KNOW we will see something unexpected.

Howler monkeys fly from one tree to another.

We do not tire of the sights and sounds. The male howler monkeys can be heard howling at least a half mile through the forest. Mischievous capuchin monkeys jump on branches to taunt and scare us away. We flush the skittish agouti (related to the species of “Roatan Rabbits” we saw in the Bay Island, Honduras) from its forest cover. Sloths astound us as they move from branch to branch in slow-motion forty feet above. The elusive and stunning Toucan thrills us before it flies off in a blur. The fearsome-looking American Crocodiles warm themselves at the shore of the marina or glide past our boat and remind us that we cannot swim. There are roughly 1000 species of birds in Panama and the symphony of bird calls rewards us with one more bird identification.  

Hope you enjoy a few of the photos we selected from the hundreds of pictures we have taken over the past few weeks.  

This howler monkey is actually just yawning, but you cannot believe how loud they howl.

Look closely. Can you see the baby?

Capuchin monkeys keep an eye on us. Sometimes they break tree limbs to scare us away.

Sometimes the capuchins don't seem to care that we are around.

We enjoy the monkeys.

A morning meeting perhaps

Agoutis are known to follow monkeys to pick up fruit they drop from the canopies.
They bury caches of seeds but then forget where they put them.  

The sloths have remarkable flexibility. 

Elusive toucans are a challenge to photograph.

This crocodile did not seem to mind being this close to the marina just to warm in the morning sun.

A Great Kiskadee perched atop a royal palm

With about 1,000 species of birds here, there will always be another "mystery" bird.

Join us for the next dispatch when: We cross the Panama Canal  

Before the extreme restrictions were in place several weeks ago, we accepted an invitation from two new sailor friends, Bo and Sybille, to assist as “line handlers” on crossing the canal aboard their boat “Sybo”. 

Even if it was on someone else’s boat, it was absolutely amazing and it lived up to all of our expectations. Come along for the ride.

The final locks at the entrance to Pacific Ocean