The wind patterns had been steady all week, so I aimed to secure a slip in Santa Rosalia before 10 a.m., if one was available. From Punta Chivato, the 35‑mile run would be tough, so I chose Isla San Marcos instead, leaving a shorter 21‑mile leg for tomorrow.
The passage north was manageable, though the first half was a slog against waves stirred up by overnight west winds wrapping down the coast. Once I reached the island’s lee, conditions calmed, and I was glad to find an empty anchorage. Puerto Viejo isn’t a popular stop thanks to the nearby gypsum mine, which often leaves the air dusty. Luckily, no mining activity today. Approaching the anchorage, I noticed dark patches on the seabed, was it seagrass or rock? After motoring around, I finally dropped anchor on what looked like sand, though the holding felt questionable. A snorkel confirmed my suspicion – sand over gravel and rock, with scattered rocky areas. The anchor was partially set, and with only 10 knots of wind forecast, it would hold but I wouldn’t trust it in a blow.
That evening, I paddled ashore and headed toward the mine and airstrip. A worker approached, and through Google Translate chatted. He confirmed it was fine for me to be there and shared a bit about the mine. We parted ways with Juan heading one direction, me the other. The shoreline revealed interesting rock formations, and after some time I climbed back toward the airstrip for a decent view of the area. Later, I wandered toward Juan’s path, spotting four workers exercising on a lookout and Juan fishing from a sandy spit. I explored that side of the island until dusk, then returned to call it a day.
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