Most radar sites showed us dodging an incoming rain system, with the storm staying just north of us. Weather.com, however, predicted a direct hit. The sky looked dark and menacing. After morning coffee, we checked PredictWind, looked outside, and made the call to bail.
A few miles out, it was obvious the rain had already hammered last night’s anchorage. The question was whether it would catch us. We had the jib out, cruising along in the upper six-knot range. As the rain crept closer, we brought in the jib and battened down the hatches. It was a very good thing we did. The wind immediately spiked to 26 knots as a steady rain set in. I had to flip the table upside down in the cockpit and slapped the door mats underneath it just to keep them from blowing away. Engine controls covered, doors and windows locked tight, we managed things from the safety of the saloon.
The wind kept climbing, which helped our boat speed, but the seas built right along with it. We endured a ten-minute stretch of 43-knot winds before it finally began to back down, leveling off at a steady 35 knots. My newest add-on, a wind-history tracker, running on a tablet via OpenCPN allowed for made watching the wind trend lines.
The seas kept building, and we looked forward to rounding the corner of the Baja for some land protection. About two hours into the passage, we made the turn. The seas shifted from dead astern to the starboard quarter. The boat would get shoved sideways, the autopilot would overcorrect, swing too far the other way, and hunt for center. Not unsafe, it was a bit anxiety inducing all the same. Thankfully, as we worked further around the corner, things settled down to 26–30 knots of wind and smaller seas. Whew.
The passage mellowed out as we dropped further south and the rain drifted off to the northeast. By the halfway point, the Baja coastline emerged from the clouds, and a few hours later, patches of blue sky broke through. We dodged another bullet, though I definitely spent a few hours in the morning questioning my decision making
Six boats were anchored in San Francisquito, five packed into the tiny slot anchorage, and one sitting down in the south anchorage. We tucked into the north anchorage and had it all to ourselves. Needing to stretch our legs, we paddled to shore, hiked the beach, and climbed the hill to the north plateau. The amount of green up there was staggering, with ground cover and bushes sprawling everywhere. Looking back down at Strikhedonia floating in the bay was a great of a view. Sunset caught us on the trail, so we scrambled back to the boat for dinner, a movie, and a dead-calm night.
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