Baja California Part 1: Ensenada to Santa Maria

Months of dealing with a cantankerous dinghy engine that continually kept us in suspense as to whether or not it would start (and, if it did, whether or not it would run continuously between our starting point and destination), prompted us to make the financially painful, but highly practical, decision to invest in a brand new outboard engine with an electric start rather than a pull cord. We knew it might be tough to source the engine we wanted in Mexico, so we ordered it to San Diego, prolonging our stay in U.S. waters.

After our initial couple of nights in the Port of San Diego marina, we moved south to a pretty little anchorage in the upscale community of Coronado, where we spent several days working, homeschooling, and exploring the waterfront. Anchored beside us was a gorgeous 70-foot sailboat which turned out to belong to another live-aboard family with a wonderful son, who quickly befriended our kids. Boat movie nights and sleepovers ensued, along with plenty of playdates on the water and at the nearby playground!

After a week of patient waiting (during which time there may have been some using of oars and cursing at our unreliable and rapidly-deteriorating old motor), we were elated when our new Suzuki finally arrived! We Ubered it from the FedEx store to the public dock, loaded it into our dinghy, and transferred it to Mohini--no easy task with a 120 lb. engine. Later that day, we were able to install it onto "Mo-Teeny" (as we affectionately call our dinghy) and have the satisfaction of hearing it purr reliably at the touch of a button. Feeling happy and full of anticipation, we wasted no time in setting sail southward later that evening, planning to watch the new day dawn over Mexico's coastline.

The Port of Ensenada

We arrived in the port of Ensenada around lunchtime the following day, where we moored Mohini in the marina for 24 hours in order to check in with the Port Captain and register our boat in Mexican waters. After being shuttled through the bustling city centre, however, we discovered that the port registration system was "down", something that surprised us very little based on our previous experiences with official Mexican systems. For a moment we thought we might be indefinitely waylaid, but fortunately, through a combination of quick thinking and quick Spanish, Nico was able to arrange to fill out the paperwork manually and have a marina official submit it on our behalf once the system was up and running again. Boat registration taken care of, we now had the afternoon, evening, and following morning available for exploration.

Ensenada, the second-busiest port in Mexico, is a much larger city than either Nico or I had realized. After meandering past the cruise ship docks and along the waterfront Malecón, where we enjoyed some market stalls and a playground, we passed through a large city plaza with bronze busts and statues, crossed a major street, and found ourselves in a pleasant walking district full of shops and restaurants. Aaron purchased a hand-carved slingshot with some tooth fairy pesos that were burning a hole in his pocket and we enjoyed the lively calls of vendors and children, all the while inhaling the aromas of carne asada, street churros, exhaust, and dust. We definitely weren't in Coronado anymore!

That night we dined on mouthwateringly fresh Baja tacos at a busy corner taquería, afterwards enjoying the spectacle of a fountain, light, and music show that quickly reminded us how vibrantly Mexican communities come alive after dark. Walking back to Mohini past families laughing and swaying to the music and kids riding bikes, scooters, and skateboards across the footbridge was truly the perfect way to conclude our first evening back in Mexico.

The following day, we walked to a more local area of town to drop our laundry at a lavandería before visiting the Riviera Centro Social, Civico, y Cultural, a stunning example of Spanish California-style architecture. Constructed in 1930 as the Hotel-Casino Playa Ensenada, this building is now open to the public and we were fortunate to have the opportunity to admire its stylized grand halls, sparkling chandeliers, and intricately hand-painted ceilings. The kids were primarily interested in playing freeze tag in one of the red-carpeted galleries so, after briefly exploring the grounds and gardens, we headed back to the waterfront where they could burn off some more energy before returning to Mohini for another overnight sail.

Capsized In San Quintin

Early the next morning, I awoke to relieve Nico at the helm in time to witness the first of many spectacular sunrises over the Baja Peninsula. Dolphins danced around Mohini as we anchored for the day near Punta Colonet, our tiny sailboat dwarfed by a panorama of barren desert cliffs that rose out of the sea like vast vertical walls. Landing the dinghy seemed an impossibility, so we spent the daylight hours homeschooling, working, and watching the never-ending patterns made by the wind on the water. We didn't see or encounter another living soul and, in contrast to Ensenada's warmth and liveliness, this anchorage left us feeling peaceful but also somewhat desolate.

A third overnight sail brought us to Bahía San Quintin, where we were eager to head to shore for an afternoon walk and some exploration after a morning of learning and playing. Throwing a few beach toys, some water and snacks, and a couple of sweatshirts into a backpack, we hopped into the dinghy and were soon landed on an expansive stretch of beach textured with windswept dunes as far as the eye could see. A few volcanic-looking mountains punctuated the horizon and, in the far distance, we thought we could make out what appeared to be a collection of buildings.

The kids ran on the dunes and made sand castles while Nico kept an on eye on Mo-Teeny and I took a long walk towards the southern end of the beach. I was delighted to find hundreds of whole sand dollars left behind by the tide on the hard-packed sand and returned an hour later with my pockets overflowing with shells. By this time, the sun was getting low in the sky, the air was chilly, and we decided it was time to head home. Our landing on the beach had been a little surfy and we let the kids know it was quite possible we might get splashed by some spray as we headed out past the breakers--but that a warm shower would be awaiting them on Mohini.

Sure enough, we were splashed by one wave, and then two before we passed the zone where surf was actively breaking. As Nico prepared to lower the engine and we comforted the kids, assuring them that we were through the worst of it, I glanced ahead and was horrified to see a monster wave bearing down on us, seemingly out of nowhere. Our boat was sucked sickeningly broadside by the undertow and I knew with certainty it was inevitable we would capsize. With a roar, we were plunged into cold, salty chaos and, for several agonizing seconds that felt like an eternity, I was trapped beneath the dinghy, unable to breathe or get my head out of the water. When I finally gasped my way to the surface, my sole thought was that the kids might still be trapped and, in a flash, I heaved one side of the dinghy completely clear of the water--something I would never be able to do under normal circumstances.

Thankfully, Nico had already grabbed Aaron and I could see Yael floating nearby me. Seizing her lifejacket, I dragged her to shore, with Nico, Aaron, and the dinghy not far behind. We were clear of the waves, but I immediately realized that all of us, especially the kids, were at risk of cold exposure/hypothermia. With a cold wind gusting across the dunes, the sun close to setting, and no way to dry off, I yelled to Nico that he should haul the dinghy to safety if he had the strength and immediately began running with the kids, scanning the horizon for the nearest house or building that could offer us warmth and protection.

Being completely unfamiliar with the area, I had no idea which way to run and struck out with the kids towards a structure I could see in the distance, crossing barefoot through cactus scrub and jagged rocks only to find it was abandoned. At this point, both kids were shivering uncontrollably. I picked up Yael in my arms and told Aaron not to stop running, knowing that if we halted it would be near impossible to start again. Back on the beach, I saw what appeared to be a track winding inland along a barbed wire fence and followed it for about a kilometer before finally coming around a curve and seeing a small group of houses in the desert, one with a car in the driveway. We made a beeline for that house, straight past a No Trespassing sign, and knocked on the door, behind which we were oh-so-grateful to hear dogs barking and footsteps approaching.

Blessed And Befriended

In the hours and days that followed our boating accident, our family was utterly humbled to be on the receiving end of tremendous kindness that can only be described as deeply inspirational. In a community where people truly have so little, we were given so much and treated with the most genuine love, dignity, and friendship imaginable, with absolutely no expectation of anything in return. We can only hope to be able to pay this experience forward, as we continue in life with our own hearts and hands more open to strangers in need, wherever we may meet them and whoever they may be.

That night, after being reunited, we were provided with warm showers, clothes in the right sizes for all of our family members, food, drinks, and a ride to a local hotel where we were welcomed to stay without paying until we could retrieve our wallet from Mohini. Nico received help dragging the dinghy up the beach and our new outboard engine was driven to the next town over in the back of someone's pickup, where it was stored with the local fire chief for safekeeping.

The following day, we met a clam-digger/lobster fisherman from the nearby pueblo of Santa Maria who not only shuttled Nico back and forth to Mohini in his panga (fishing boat), but also helped him take apart and clean our no-longer-so-new engine. Upon seeing how much sand and saltwater had accumulated in its inner workings, he called a mechanic friend, who took over and professionally cleaned and repaired it for a very reasonable price.

One day's worth of shucked clams.

While we awaited the return of our outboard, we were welcomed to spend several evenings with this remarkable clam-digger, his wife, and three boys in their Santa Maria home, watching them shuck and process thousands of clams, sharing meals together, and galvanizing a heartfelt friendship that we hope and expect will continue well into the future.

A week passed quickly by in the company of some of the finest people we have ever met and soon our outboard was ready to be remounted. We passed through the fateful breakers once again, this time carried safely on our trusted friend's fishing boat, boarded Mohini, and were left alone, parting gifts of fresh fish in hand, to reflect on our blessings and pick up the pieces of a short afternoon excursion that had turned into so much more.

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To continue following Mohini's journey south along the Baja Peninusula, read our post Baja California Part 2: Isla de Cedros to Cabo San Lucas.