Help me, help me!

Friday 28 Jan, Mexico, day 8, Isla Mujeres: Genoa adjustments, preparing for our guest and for strong wind, and an evening rescue mission.

Today was all about preparing for our guest, Emma, who arrives tomorrow. Unfortunately, her arrival time coincides with the strongest wind we have yet experienced this year. The same wind causes a dramatic evening, rescuing a person and an upturned dinghy.

In the morning we had planned to go diving, but when we wake up to overcast skies we call to cancel. There is no point trying to see coral and sea-life in poor light, we need sunshine.

This morning feels like the calm-before-the-storm, which will hit us hard tonight with forecasted gusts of up to 40kts from the north, which we are rather exposed to. But with the very light breeze right now, I unfurl the new genoa to make some adjustments. To date I’ve been super annoyed that I cannot get this new EPEX sail furled without it creasing. The damned expensive ($12,000) sail already looks like it had a hard life, yet it’s only 2 months old ☹
After many complaints to Elvström I have finally got someone in Denmark help. He had several suggestions, none of which worked so far. Now I have a last one to try. That is: attaching the tack to the Furlex-swivel such the furling of the tack is no longer delayed by 1 rotation. This is quite unorthodox – all furling head sails I have ever used, require this delay so the body of the sail furls first before the foot start to furl. But surprise-surprise, it works! A creaseless furl at last. I’m shocked, but also very happy. Now, let’s see how the sail sets without the usual play on the tack swivel.

The rest of the morning is preparing for Emma’s arrival, starting by doing a big clear-out job in the forward cabins. Normally we keep the mid cabin relatively clear only using it to hang cloths and towels. We call it the “Chinese laundry” cabin. The bow cabin is our usual stowage cabin, and we call it the “attic”. But so far this year both cabins have become full of stuff. Even the guest shower has the fenders stowed in it. Oh? You don’t stow your fenders in the shower? We do!

Then it’s off to find the supermarket. Our fresh supplies are running low since our last shopping in Key West 12 days ago. Per the advice of the increasingly popular cruisers website, NoForeignLand.com, we dock the dinghy at Varadero’s restaurant, telling them we will stop for a beer on our return (as payment for docking). Then off we go into the back streets pulling “Pony”, our large, foldable, 4-wheeled shopping trolly. This is a part of the town we have not seen yet and it’s only the occasional golf cart on the road that tells you this is not rural Mexico. The supermarket, Chedraui, sells just about everything possible. A bit like a shabby version of Walmart or Carrefour. After 1 hour we exit with Pony full and our pockets only U$50 lighter. Now this is cheap shopping! And their fruits – mango, melon, papaya, pineapple – are amazing. All very fresh and locally grown.
Before putting it all in the dinghy we do our duty to have a beer at Varadero’s. But the menu catches our eye, and we are soon also tucking into the most amazing “Cuban sandwich” and a salad. So much for planning lunch on the boat!

Back at Cloudy, I start to prepare for the wind. I’m in a dilemma about whether we should move anchorage closer to shore for this wind. More so that the dinghy ride tomorrow, when Emma arrives, will be a little calmer. But in the end we stay put, and while it may be not have been the best decision for us, it certainly was fortuitous for another individual.

Just before dusk I play out some more anchor chain (we now have 30m out in 4.5m of water). I also raise the FinDelta anchor riding sail. We are really becoming a fan of this “steadying sail”, but tonight will be the first real test for it. It doesn’t quite feel right, putting canvas up in the wind, especially when 40kts gusts are forecast! But it works tremendously. In 35kts later in the night, our yawing is maximum 25 degrees each way. But the best thing is that we are no longer “sailing” from side to side on the anchor, which puts so much extra strain on it. Now that we are surrounded by boats that are sailing from one side to another, we can really notice that Cloudy is not doing this. And best of all, Oana says she can clearly feel the change in boat movement with the sail up. In winds like this, she would normally start to feel ill.

As the wind steadily increases during the evening I watch and observe for any anchor dragging. Both us and the boats in front of us. By 11:30pm with the winds already hitting 30kts and waves breaking around the boat, I feel confident enough to go to bed, with the anchor-watch alarm next to me.

Just as I do one last check on deck, in the dim light I spot a guy in a very small (8ft?) hard bottom dinghy struggle passed us. He is sitting right at the back such that the bow is high out the water. It’s painful to watch because his little engine makes it a few meters upwind, then the wind catches the bow and turns the boat down wind again. But eventually he zig-zags to windward and disappears into the darkness ahead of us. And I think to myself, what a numpty to be out in such an inappropriate dinghy in this weather. And it might not end well for him.
Back in the cockpit I take one last glance around before bed, when I spot him again. This time drifting downwind next to us, trying to pull start his engine. I shout to him “you OK?” but he just waves. His engine then starts and of he goes again, 3 steps forward 2 steps backwards. I try to watch him for as long as I can but finally, I see him no more.
Meanwhile there is a huge luxurious motor yacht anchored next to us and they are partying and drinking on their shelter aft deck like it’s a sunny Sunday afternoon. Quite a contrast of situations that I’m observing tonight.

Then, while cleaning teeth I think I can hear someone vaguely shouting outside. I go to the cockpit for a better listen, but all I can hear is the dim music from the power boat. No … then I hear it again. A faint but clearly audible “Help me! Help me!” coming from somewhere astern of the power boat. The occupants of which clearly cannot hear it above their jollities. Searching in that area with my powerful spotlight, I catch a glimpse of an upturned white hull. Yes, surprise surprise, Mr.Numpty’s dinghy has capsized!
The power boat has a big center consul tender (with 2 huge outboards) tied alongside. Their boat also has a professional crew. So, I alternatively flash my spotlight at them, then at the up-tuned dinghy which is now drifting fast out to sea. But they either don’t see my spotlight shining at them, or they don’t care.

Hmmm looks like it’s down to me for the rescue ☹ and I have to tell you, I’m pretty reluctant to even launch the dinghy, let alone head off into this kind of weather in the pitch dark.
As I lower the dinghy, Oana gets my waterproofs, life jacket and (thankfully she remembers) 2 handheld VHF radios. It’s a tough dinghy launch in the waves, but eventually I’m heading off to the capsized dinghy, immediately getting soaked by spray. My biggest fear is my dinghy also getting caught by the wind and getting flipped over.
As I pass the power boat I make very certain that this time I dazzle them with my spot light. The more people that know the better. And it works. They all come to the side of the boat and watch me heading off for the rescue.
I find the upturned dinghy and the guy is clinging onto its bottom. He doesn’t seem overly elated to see me coming. I first take his backpack into the dinghy – it’s full of water and not light. He tells me his laptop is in there! I then tell him to get in, but he refuses to let go of his dinghy painter (rope attached to the dinghy). My thought was to just rescue him, not his dinghy too, but he has other ideas. It would be impossible, if not darn right dangerous to try to get the dinghy back upright. So, I tie the painter to our stern and haul him aboard.
At first, I think he is badly injured with cuts all over him, but then I realise, in my head-touch light, that he is covered in bits of weed. He is also shivering violently and can only tell me his boat is a ketch, but other than “upwind” he has no clue where it is. Even in this wind, I can strongly smell alcohol reeking from him. So we start the long tow, into the wind and waves (which are breaking over the front of the dinghy) and I thank-god that I have a 20HP engine which easily copes with this task.
We slowly pass the power boat and there they all are, still watching from the rail, still with drinks in hand, laughing and joking as if watching a show. I won’t tell you what I shouted at them other than my words were designed to displease. And seeing their annoyed reaction, I was happy I’d hit a nerve.

We do eventually get to the ketch I think must be his, when he says, “no, not this one, mine is the ketch with the broken mast”. Oh jeez … that one. We had previously commented on it. Its main mast is broken about ½ way up, with the top half lying on deck. But where is it now? Eventually we find it, further down wind and closer to the shore. I help him get up the boarding ladder then hand him the painter which I’m glad to get shot of. My own dinghy is now ½ full of water. When I ask if he will be OK, he says: “right now no, but I’ll probably commit suicide before the night it out”. I can only reply “well, I suggest you sleep on that one. It’s much easier to do that in daylight”. Then I leave. I’m not even sure he ever said thank you.

Going back downwind, no longer towing an upside-down hulk, is a much easier affair. On the way, I pull the drain plug and all the water is sucked out by the time I get back to Cloudy. Oana is waiting for me on the swim platform in her nightie and socks (a welcoming sight!) where she takes the painter and all the radios while I get the dinghy back up on the davits. She then proceeds to rinse everything off before we finally flop into bed by midnight-thirty. I have a feeling it’s going to be a disturbed sleep for me. The wind is now a steady 30+ kts and rising.
It was quite an active day!