Isla Isabella

the southern anchorage at isla Isabella Darwind and Mamaku(L-R) are the two middle boats

            After leaving La Paz, the crossing from Isla Jacques Cousteau to the tiny volcanic Isla Isabella was one of the most entertaining of the entire trip. With a strong breeze just a couple of points off the quarter, Darwind flew under reefed main and working jib over the small choppy seas. Raising the island over the horizon was also a thrill, as this was my first island landfall of the trip. Approaching the island the wind died until I put up the gennaker for a bit before resorting to the engine to get in before dark. And just after starting the engine I spotted some fishing buoys marking a long-line, which seemed to perfectly block my path to the island. Following the line of buoys I rounded the last one with a bit of room, but apparently not enough, because the thin almost invisible floating line was instantly caught by the rudder and immediately after passing the buoy Darwind slowed considerably and the buoy picked up quite a wake towing behind Darwind. I immediately cut the engine, but was unable to free the line with a boathook. Just as I was putting on a mask and about to dive in to clear the mess, the fishermen zipped up in their panga, and instead of yelling and cussing as I would have expected any Alaskan fisherman to do, they waved at me to stop me from jumping in, grabbed the line from their boat and in less than a minute had Darwind free. The whole time all the fishermen were smiling and dismissing my repeated “Lo siento mucho” with friendly waves, before zipping of to finish pulling in the other end of the line and heading in to the island ahead of me.

Coming around the point into the anchorage. Thanks to Mamaku for the picture

            In the sheltered anchorage under the high sweeping red cliffs, I anchored next to Mamaku with my friends Harry and Sarah, and their new crew, Scott. As it turned out, another boat that I knew from Bahia de los Muertos, Thisldu, so we all ended up on their boat for dinner and Garret’s amazing margaritas.

            Over the next many days, what turned out be nearly a week, we explored all over the island on foot, ducking under nests and branches full of frigate birds indifferent to our approach, and weaving among blue-footed boobies who were busy displaying their baby-blue webbed feet to each other in their somewhat awkward mating dance. The scene on this log-hanging jungle island reminded us all of a prehistoric time, and the ruins of a research station made it feel very much like Jurassic park after it was destroyed and all the people left. The few fishermen, sailors, and eco-tourists who visit this island seem to leave almost no visible impact on the sheer abundance of wildlife. Looking up into the sky, it was not possible to have less than a few thousands wheeling and soaring forms in your field of view.

Harry, Sarah, and I on the peak. Thanks to Scott for the pic

Thousands of birds in the sky

sweeping red cliffs surround the anchorage

frigate birds nesting. the one in the foreground used the wing of a dead companion to build his nest

            Looking down through the water was no less spectacular, and one day we took Mamaku’s tender and made a complete circumnavigation of the tiny island, stopping along the way to dive in with masks and snorkel. Harry and I halfheartedly tried to spear a few fish for dinner, but mostly we just explored and reveled in the underwater world. Within easy swimming distance of where we anchored our boats, we discovered a network of underwater caves and arches that provided hours more entertainment!

            Amidst all the natural splendor, one day when I was hiking alone on the island I stumbled by accident into the camp of a group of Mexican eco-tourists on a several-day guided trip to the island. I asked one of the guides for directions to the peak I was trying to get to, and after a short conversation, he asked me if the boat I came on was “la Rosita” or “the little pink one” when I replied to the affirmative a cheer went up from the group of tourists, who had been listening in, and I was invited to take some lunch there, and to come back tomorrow for a early dinner!

            The next afternoon when I returned around 3 pm, I was greeted with a huge smile from my new friend Roberto, the tour guide who I had initially talked to the day before, and after briefly trying to make some conversation in spanish, I migrated over to a small group of tourists and guides shucking and eating raw oysters. After steadily consuming oysters, which were replaced as soon as one was down the hatch, I felt like I might be eating more than my share, so I tried to politely refuse the next, but the guide shucking pointed at the nearly full crate and explained that they needed to finish it tonight or they would go bad, and the majority of tourists didn’t even like oysters! So I soldiered on and swallowed dozens of fresh raw oysters with a dash of lime and hot sauce before I truly couldn’t eat another!

¡Ostiones! we've got to finish the crate!

Iguana making a move for the goods

            When I returned to the table and started in on some halting Spanish conversation, it was discovered that I was sailing all alone, and quite a few jokes were made to the effect that someone living all alone maybe shouldn’t have eaten so many raw oysters, which everyone knows are an aphrodisiac! The main course was fresh fish roasted over an open fire, caught by the local fishermen on the island, probably the same ones who’s line I had fouled approaching the island! It was a delicious meal, and there was plenty to go around, as well as very friendly people who I vainly attempted to hold conversations with in Spanish, and laughed at all the jokes I didn’t understand and by the time I rowed back out to the Darwind I had a full belly, some much improved Spanish, and a whole bunch of new friends.

            Eventually though, a fair wind came up for La Cruz, and since Mamaku needed to do some repairs to their alternator, we left in the afternoon and sailed through the night into the busy, warm, and murky waters of Banderas bay, where we were greeted by the dozens of mating humpback whales which call this huge bay temporary home, along with hundreds of cruising sailors on their way to a multitude of destinations around the world.