Sometimes there are hidden jewels in no-name places.. We sailed with the fellas back to Faaite, which is outside the tourist circuit, only 12nm across the channel from famous Fakarava, an atoll that attracts divers from all over the world.
We enjoyed gorgeous snorkeling in the shallows outside Faaite, with no one around. Sometimes it is lovely to have a spot to yourself even if it isn’t ” the ultimate ” destination.. it becomes ours when we explore and find something special on our own.
We recently had a debrief with our crew about swimming with sharks, and thought we’d share with you. Here’s what we have learned so far during our trip…
BLACK TIP AND WHITE TIP REEF SHARKS
These sharks are easy to identify and are pretty much harmless; most of the time they are scared of people. They are typically 4-5ft with some individuals getting bigger (although some photos trick you into thinking they are larger!)
Their mouths are small and they are unable to bite things much larger than a fish. They are extremely cautious; they’ll circle a fish head several times and poke it before attempting to bite it. If you get them into a frenzy (lots of bloody fish attracting lots of fish and sharks) then they get more jumpy, but they are still pretty wary. This is generally true of all sharks because as predators they can’t afford to get injured — catching food is tough when wounded, and they might starve.
Incidents of black tips and white tips injuring humans seem to be extremely rare. One young diver in Fakarava got too close to frenzied sharks while diving at night (which happens to be their feeding time) and a shark knocked his regulator, yanked it out of his mouth, requiring several stitches to the young diver’s lip.
A more serious incident occurred with our local friend when he was nine years old; he was splashing around in poor visibility water and a black tip bit his butt! His gluteous maximus required several stitches. From what I can tell, this is characteristic of the vast majority of shark attacks on humans: in poor visibility, the shark bites a person by mistake thinking they are a fish (or seal, in the case of great whites). They realize their mistake and most often don’t bite again.
GRAY REEF SHARKS
They are much more hefty and bold than the black & white tip sharks, typically around 6-7 ft. Everyone claims they are safe to swim with. However, they can sometimes be uncomfortably “curious”, investigating who you are. In that scenario the best way to persuade sharks to move away from you is to face them directly; you become much larger, and are not exhibiting prey behavior, so they distance themselves. Making eye contact is also an effective way to shoo them away; like dogs, sharks are intimidated by your gaze.
The main instance in which gray reef sharks are in fact dangerous is during spearfishing. If you shoot a fish the shark will happily try to grab it regardless if the fish is on the spear or in your hands. So the protocol for spearfishing with sharks is to have a buddy who can pull up your float line with spear gun and wounded fish as fast as possible; and the spearfisher stays away. If solo, people take care to ensure there are no sharks in the vicinity and they try to get the fish out of the water as soon as possible. The Tahitian name for this shark is “Raira”, and we often heard the refrain from our friend Bruno in Faaite, who took our crew spearfishing: be careful with the Raira when you catch a fish!
Melanie “flying” over the shallow coral.
“Nobody around, and incredible marine life”, was our friends’ description of Tahanea atoll, 80 miles south west of Makemo. The uninhabited atoll has few visitors besides passing sailboats and occasional dive charter trips. We chose to anchor near the middle pass, which has protection from the east wind (there are 3 passes on the atoll, all near each other on the northern side).
Tahanea atoll is 30 miles wide, located in the central part of the Tuamotos archipelago in French Polynesia.
Coral formations in Tahanea were extremely healthy.
1/8 mile east of Aldebaran’s anchorage lay a “dangerous” coral bommie marked in the charts. We took Lambordinghy to the bommie and I dove down to attach her painter line to a rock. The coral bommie was shallow and extremely pretty, like a natural aquarium.
Lambodinghy with her painter line attached to some rocks in the coral garden.
Corornel with a “five finger” clam as they call them here in French Polynesia. He left it behind as it had a living mollusk inside. We later learned that this type of clam grows slowly and is protected from harvesting when the mollusk is alive.
Amazed by the diversity of life at the coral bommie, we now looked forward to doing a drift dive at the pass in the following day… where we hoped to find some larger critters.
Diyana “floating” in water. The transparent water plays tricks on your mind! Just looking at the water is beautiful around here.
A few of the solar light recipients at Albuergue “Fuerza Sucre” – thanks to Unite-to-light.org
From our sailboat, the city looked bombed, as if gone through a war. Seven story buildings are cracked in half. Concrete is fractured like massive stitches in wounded white elephants. We sailed into this dystopian landscape – resort beach town meets mayhem – which is the entrance to Bahia Caraquez, mainland Ecuador. Our trimaran Aldebaran was armed with a shipment of solar lights to give away to people living in tent camps, homeless from the massive earthquake of April 16, 2016. Continue reading
The captain’s sweetheart and Aldebaran’s dive master, Sabrina, had to leave early due to an ear injury and returned home to California. We are sending her healing thoughts!!
The crew made her two short diving videos so she could live vicariously as we explore underwater treasures and share the stoke from afar.
Diving Roca Niegra — A volcano spat out this big rock, which lies 1 mile offshore in 80 feet depth. Dizzying numbers of fish congregate around the transparent blue waters. Our free dives are around 20-40 feet. Location: Santa Rosa National Park, northern Costa Rica
Video: Diving Murcielago Islands. A geographic phenomenon, the protected “Isla Murcielago” (“Bat Islands”) stick out like fingers from the mainland. We took a quick dive to cool off and find some coral and eels. Our free dives are around 15-25 feet. Location: Santa Rosa National Park, northern Costa Rica.
Moving at the pace of a leisurely beach cruiser (6-10 mph), the sailboat allows us to take in the subtleties of the landscape and seize the rare glimpses of nature otherwise inaccessible with other forms of travel. These two shorts provide a window into an underwater heaven that keeps surprising the Aldebaran crew — they are under 1min teasers for the in depth videos we hope to make during the off-season.
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Video Shorts: Magic Log (1min)… an oasis in the ocean desert. By Ryan Smith
We expected an uneventful 2 day transit, this time in the hot, calm waters 30 miles off the Michoacan coast. It was 5000 feet deep, with nothing as far as the eye could see. Luckily, Michael was keenly watching the surface of the ocean, and suddenly shouted “Floating Log! Look, there’s turtles! Let’s check it out!” A veteran Mahi Mahi hunter from his days on the Big Island (a story he’s want to recount to any virgin ears) he religiously scans the water for debris which can harbor fish. Before Captain could even halt the engine Michael had jumped in the water with mask and snorkle. He couldn’t believe what he saw! Underwater was an explosion of life, organized around this random floating log. Like giddy school children, we spent the afternoon tethered to what we termed the “Magic Log”, a wonderland rife with turtles, small sharks, countless juvenile Mahi Mahis and fish swarming around this lone structure in the ocean desert. This is just a tiny snippet of one of the most incredible underwater experiences of our lives.
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Video Short: Huatulco Seascapes (26 seconds)… the details of underwater life. By Ryan Smith
The southern state of Oaxaca is one of the most charming, diverse and beautiful regions of Mexico. From the culturally rich city of Oaxaca whose markets burst with color; the magnificent ancient ruins of Monte Alban; to the stunning coastline and national park of Huatulco; this region holds innumerable gems to explore. We quickly fell in love with the beautiful bays of Huatulco, spending weeks sailing, diving and imbibing in this tropical splendor. The time-lapse macro imagery of Huatulco Seascapes captures some of the wonders that we came across. We’ve learned that to look closely is to be surprised and amazed!
Finding inner bliss in a Coke cooler.
Is this a painting? We actually lived in this dreamland for 3 days. Alas, the Light sometimes emerges only after Darkness falls.
by Guest Crew, Pierre Littée & Lianna Giancola
In no time we arrived at Isla de las Corales, between Chacala and Punta Mita, where we paddled to visit the only inhabitant on shore, a ranchero. We were told not to venture too far because of the snakes. “Are they venomous?” we asked. “There are snakes!” retorted the ranchero, emphatically. We stayed close to the beach.
Returning to the boat, Lianna stepped from her Stand Up Paddleboard which was attached port-side to Aldebarán. Despite being her first time on a SUP, she confidently boarded with adventure alive in her arteries. My entrance onboard would be less graceful, and put an exclamatory cap to the first day at sea.
As I attempted to board, my legally impaired eyes were slightly distracted by the beauty and truth of the moment, and I lost my grip and footing. I sputtered and fell back overboard into the ocean, directly onto a stinging jellyfish– or so I thought.
Aldebaran anchored off Isla Corales on Day 1, the location of Pierre’s injury.
“You might as well use the ladder!” said Sabrina.
“Holy Mackerel! Jellies!!!” I called back in pain.
A little annoyed at learning about the ladder after-the-fact, I climbed onboard the ship, greeted by the shocked stare of the other crew members. I followed everyone’s gaze downward and saw that the sting of pain wasn’t just a jellyfish: I was bleeding heavily from a very deep stab on my left shin. The sight of one’s own blood can make some people woozy, shocked, or curious; I was dumbfounded. The gash was down to the bone and would need stitches. What a fluke– I must have snagged my flesh on the edge of the lifeline hardware.
Would we have to go to the hospital, cancel the trip, or would I get sewn up with fishing line in this moment of desperation? Was I the sacrifice for the Great Bull in the Sky?
Shortly after ripping my leg open, I consider the Buddha’s eight fold path.
Leave it to my sister, Nurse Sabrina. The moment she saw the severe nature of the injury, she descended into the galley, ripped off her rash guard, revealed her “Go with the Flo” nursing shirt, tied her RN cape tightly around her shoulders, and flew to my rescue with a suture kit attached to her utility belt.
With great professionalism, Sabrina said: “Pierre, the bad news is that you’ll be at very high risk of infection and won’t be able to get into the ocean for at least a week, to reduce threat to loss of limb and life.”
“Well, what in Popeye’s name is the good news?!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll stitch you up myself!” replied Sabrina. I looked at her suspiciously and thought about all the terrible sibling pranks I had done to her during our upbringing: the time she got blamed for the alcohol I was stealing from our parents liquor cabinet… or how one time, they sent her to a therapist for allegedly lying because of contraband that I had placed in her sweatshirt pocket. Uh-oh, now it was all going to bite me in the butt.
Unable to enter the water in the heat of the tropics? We all have a cross to bear.
“Don’t worry, my dear brother. I’ve done this hundreds of times,” Sabrina said with a twinkle in her eye. As the sun set and the first constellations began to appear in the darkness above, the crew of the Green Coconut Run prepared the cockpit as an impromptu operating room. Surgical equipment was sterilized by the lighter, Lianna held the flashlight, Youtube videos were reviewed on the art of self-suture.
After applying local anesthesia, Sabrina did 4 stitches. Ryan offered to do 1 stitch. I said what the hell, and did 1 stitch as well. An hour of squeezing my flesh shut later, Sabrina laughed and said, “Ok you’re all stitched up! Oh, and I forgot to mention, you’re the first human I’ve ever done this on, bro!”
Realizing that I was officially dry docked, Kristian suggested we head to Punta Mita, where he had a friend with a beach house. This idea pleased all, who hadn’t seen fresh sheets, mattresses or a shower head with pressure in more than 50 days.
Casa Selvatica, a for-rental beach home in Punta Mita, was very generously lent to us for a 3 day stay, an immense blessing for our rest & recuperation.
That night we each learned how to pilot the boat. With the stars and the compass, our existence was tied to the whole history of the globe, as this little boat crossed the ocean’s expanse like so many before. The night sky enveloped me and my sorrows in a cushion of compassion.
Lianna fulfilling a dream… catching and filleting her first tuna enroute to Punta Mita.
The morning began with the “zing-zing!” of the fishing line: to catch and prepare our own fresh fish. How exciting to reel in a silvery tuna! How amazing it feels to gut and fillet our fish, like age-old hunter-gatherers, finding in Nature our sustenance to carry us through the day! The darkness of our injuries and memories faded in the exhilaration of that primal moment.
The delightful rollercoaster of life continued: before the end of that day, we were lodged in a most luxurious beach villa. Casa Selvatica was on the sand in front of the “Burros” surfbreak. A friend of Kristian’s was exceptionally generous and offered us wonderful headquarters for a few days. We spent a few delicious days recuperating and re-energizing ourselves on terra firma. Like a dreamscape, we felt the ebb of reality escape… Casa Selvatica isn’t something that happens in “real life”.
The million dollar view from Casa Selvatica.
I was pleased to give the crew an excuse to have some mandatory shore leave.
I watched with envy the great waves being surfed straight out front. Damn my clumsy mistake! I thought. The dismay I felt was like an ugly zit. However, the threat of depression was wrestled down by the intense gratitude for our fortune — the wonder we felt for Life in this exotic place was overwhelming my personal dramas.
That evening, the haze of adult libations masked the throb of my leg. We determined to depart the next day. In our relaxed state, Ryan and Michael revealed their deepest wishes; to surf a spot in a secret island, which was illegal to visit. We nodded enthusiastically at the prospect of adventure — I wasn’t about to let me injury keep us from the glory of illicit discoveries!
In the soft glow of the bungalow coconut lights, a fantasy-filled gleam was taking form in the eyes of the crew. Maybe that island, clouded in its aura of mystique, would help me snap out of my funk. Or would we get in trouble, as the captain warned was possible?
The captain’s grin was unmistakeable: this is what he lived for.
Days later we arrived at the secret island. We saw it in the horizon, and the federales were nowhere to be seen. As soon as we found the infamous wave, Michael jumped in and paddled into the surf zone. He turned and charged as the first wave came towards him. He took off, zipped across the face, and after the wave barreled he came out the end hollering with pure stoke, pumping his fists in the air.
“We have a double fist pump, ladies and gentlemen!!” exclaimed Kristian in a tone I had not heard before, and in a flash he was overboard, paddling towards the lineup. Ryan was right behind him.
Two days of perfect waves on a secret island with just my friends. When the Light shines, it shines bright.
“Are you going snorkeling?” I asked Lianna. At first she shook here head. She felt scared to go into such a powerful ocean. Sabrina said she would accompany her with the boogie board as a flotation device… I offered encouragement: “We are here to experience new things, right?” Lianna consented after some deliberation.
As the ladies suited up, I went down below to the galley. With the smell of banana bread baking in the oven, hearing the crashing waves, the shouts of joy from the surfing crew, the girls digging in the dive locker for their gear, I suddenly felt… terribly alone.
The feeling of loneliness is the most common reason for depression. Through whatever means we have — business, gambling, religion, alcohol, sex, or sports — we try to forget that we are truly alone, truly fragile and mortal. For me, surfing is the most healthy escape from that feeling. Ironically, the fear of infection was paralyzing me from overcoming my fear of loneliness. Fear begets fear, and morale crumbles.
I sat on the edge of my cot, and looked down at the cut on my leg, which was oozing and trying to heal through the collaborative stitching. How could I keep it from being wet, and risk an infection that could compromise our trip? The hot humidity slapped me in the face, as I knew the best escape was the cool ocean outside, which I was unpermitted to enter. I felt ashamed and distant. Tears fell from my eyes… I cried while the men surfed. I had given up and couldn’t bear the humiliation.
Did I have to hit rock bottom, so I might claw back up with wild, crazy determination? Was this the secret to finding the Light?
The two women who I cared so much about appeared in the galley, and tried to comfort me as best they could. But I was clawing out of a deep hole, irrational, insensible. I didn’t care anymore. I was willing to risk it. I needed to go into the ocean, and put aside my Rationality. I needed to break the vicious cycle that kept me in the dumps.
I grabbed duct tape to seal my leg. My sister stopped me immediately— I was out of mind, she said. I looked at Sabrina, and seeing her standing there, surrounded by this incredible voyage that she had created, made me more proud of her than ever before. Turning to Lianna, remembering the moment during our first date when she got the call informing she had just lost her only brother, made me bite my lip in the pain of love. I told them both that I loved them, and that I needed to do this. I was going in the water.
Here is our route from Punta Mita to Zihuatanejo, covering over 400 nautical miles. Click here for the Google Map link.
Here was the beginning of the happily ever after– the turn from cry of failure, to resurrection of rejoice. It is testimony to the healing power of the ocean, to the healing power of a loving community of friends, to the magic of opening ourselves to adventure, and to the mystery of the unknown, that we left Mexico as entirely different people than when we arrived.
I’ll let the photos below tell the story of what transpired. It was one of the most remarkable series of events that I have ever experienced in my life… not all easy, but all mind-blowing. I forced myself to stay open, exhale stale air from my mind, and bring fresh air to my heart. The ocean worked its magic by purifying my deepest wounds, and inspiring a courage to be whole again. In the kaleidoscopic combination of those experiences, the whole strength of the Pacific Ocean returned in the palm of my hand, all the way back to “real life” in the Bay Area, California, from where I write these recollections.
The wounds healed well, thanks to the waterproof bandages onboard Aldebaran. The scar remains, but over time, as all things, it too shall pass.
Just before arriving in Chamela Bay, as if to flood us with the majesty of the ocean, we caught this gorgeous yellowfin tuna. It occured in the most unusual of ways: using a squid which had flown onto our deck and hit Sabrina on the back of the neck while eating dinner! The next morning, we baited the line, and 20 minutes later, landed this fish. It fed us for days with Ahi sashimi and sushi rolls; it made us value the gifts of the ocean like never before. Read more about the experience in this post.
Talk about overcoming adversity. Four Arrows has an incredible story. He is battling a difficult form of cancer and moved to Mexico, in order to get plenty of sunshine, coconut water, organic food, and warm Pacific Ocean for daily exercise. That is his regimen for health: find the best possible sun, water, food, and exercise. Now, he is helping to “crowdfund” a marine reserve in his local waters, a true inspiration.
After leaving Chamela Bay, 30 miles offshore, in the blue-est water I’ve ever seen, we encountered the “magic log”. It was simply a log floating in the ocean, but it had created a home for thousands of fish, dozens of small sharks, and countless turtles.
Lianna and I were scared to enter the water at the Magic Log because of the sharks, but the crew in the water kept yelling “This is AMAZING!” We jumped in, with 5000 ft of water below the keel of the boat. This photo shows Captain Beadle 30 feet deep.
For hours we stayed in this ocean “playground”, watching the fish nibble at turtle barnacles. It was a scene right out of Animal Heaven, and it was our own personal catharsis. By embracing the attitude of Stoke that we found at the secret island, incredible moments kept happening.
The crew aboard the Green Coconut Run are like the best family one could ever wish for: hugging each other every morning, listening, playing, laughing, and sharing with respect the cozy quarters of Aldebaran. Having a supportive community is one of the keys to healing.
Arriving in Zihuatanejo, dolphins played in our bow. We sat on the nets and watched their dance. They were leading us home, as if to say, “It’s all going to be OK. Stop worrying. Come play!”
Captain was looking forward to Sinaloa’s lefthanders, but he was happy on this backside ride.
“I’m going to stay on the boat,” sighed Kristian, as we loaded the skiff to surf. Fifteen foot swells jerked violently at the anchor snubber. We were 1.5 miles offshore but the depth sounder still read 30ft. Huge rolling swells whipped Aldebaran around like a toy.
We had just finished a 2 night crossing of the Sea of Cortez, complete with a fantastic show of spinner dolphins doing tricks over the azure blue water. Strong seas had blown out one of our beloved nets, which gave the boat a battle-worn, haggard appearance. To top it off, early May’s so-called “Platinum Swell”, one of the largest of the year, greeted us at Sinaloa’s famed left points. Scanning the horizon, Ryan lamented, “Looks big and unruly.”
While the captain looked after the mother ship, we took our trusty inflatable, Lunabel, to the inside of the point. It didn’t take long before a rogue swell pulled Lunabel’s anchor and we almost lost her as she drifted helplessly towards the shore pound! We frantically paddled back and called it quits on surfing.
After an anxiety ridden night in Barra de Piaxtla, which under those conditions felt like a washing machine on super cycle, we sailed to the city of Mazatlan. We had to deliver Eric and Brian, our diving buddies with whom we had just shared an amazing 10 days in the famous islands of the Sea of Cortez.
Mazatlan at night
With the moon high over the grand Pacific and crowds promenading on the malecon (waterfront boardwalk), we danced in the back of the taxi pickup truck, and marveled at being in a city after a couple weeks of ocean wilderness. We had given up on surfing this historic swell… but the next day we had the most unexpected surprise…
Kristian woke us up early with uncharacteristic excitement. You see, the captain is notorious for dismissing all but the best conditions. His late night research had revealed an amazing wave which only breaks every blue moon, accessed by boat.
The “rare bird” decided to smile for us. It was a perfect, powerful righthand reef peeling off a picturesque island. Only one surfer was out and we surfed the best waves of our trip for six hours that day… with only a few urchin spines to remove from our feet. With a city of half a million people, we couldn’t believe we were getting these waves mostly alone. The hoots of stoke were sweet song to our ears, redeeming our Herculean anchoring efforts during the last few days.
Kristian usually rides 80’s boards, but put him on a potato chip shortboard and an orange wetsuit and he’ll do his best pro impression
The next day it was gone… the rare bird shone for 24hrs. We worked hard on Aldebaran, installing temporary replacements for the net that blew out in the passage. Filling propane tanks required three different visits – nobody had American valve connections – but eventually a screw driver got the job done. Filling diesel was also a task, as it was unavailable in Old Town harbor; we motored an hour north to Marina El Cid and struggled with the crowded dock.
We were preparing for an overnight passage to a remote island 60nm south. Isla Isabel, known as the Galapagos of Mexico. It is a square mile volcanic island in a National Park, with stories of crazy birds, bountiful fish, and amazing craggy views.
A river of birds continually circled Isla Isabel
Approaching in a musky grey sunrise, rivers of birds flew through the sky. They never ceased the entire time we were in Isla Isabel. We jumped in the water to freedive a half submerged crater islet, reminiscent of Molokini crater on Maui, where we encountered a phenomenal underwater world. Around the crater swam an endless number of fish, probably the most complete marine ecosystem we’d found so far on our voyage: from huge schools fish of reef fish to large predatory Jacks skittishly eyeing us.
Isabel underwater magic
The island is open to fishing and the spearfishing was excellent. Everyone got out of the water except Ryan, who then had a magical encounter with a friendly whale shark, which rubbed its body on his before swimming away.
The boys each shot a hefty Jack and our freezer was packed with fish!
That night, we anchored in the lee of bizzare offshore rocks called Las Moñas. White sand beach spilled into a gorgeous cove with fantastic snorkeling in shallow water. On shore, vast numbers of blue footed boobies nested in scrubby underbrush.
Las Monas at sunset, truly a magical place
We anchored next in the southern cove, and SCUBA dove along an underwater cliff pockmarked with caves. Here were by far the largest eels we’d ever seen — with the girth of a human being, but twice as long, they looked like dragons, receding into their underwater caves.
Wondering, “what next??”, we paddled our SUPs to the main fishing camp on shore. A short walk revealed a crater lake.
The crater lake at Isabel
A gigantic colony of frigate birds was the next jaw-dropper. They nested in trees as prolifically as salmon running up a narrow Alaskan river. Iguanas crawled along the paths in the derelict national park center, evidently abandoned for some time.
Isla Isabel protects the largest population of nesting frigate birds in Mexico
We climbed past the iguanas and frigate birds to climb to the lighthouse, where a panoramic view swept 360 degrees. Waves crashed on the west side of the island, its wild, windy side; separated by a thin ridge of land, Aldebaran bobbed peacefully in the east side, the smooth, lee side.
Kristian and some boobies
On the hill top, we found more boobies! Here were lime green footed boobies, with more slender necks, sharing the territory with their blue footed cousins. They clucked angrily and refused to move if we approached their nests, which were directly on the ground. It was hard to pull ourselves away from this magical place, which had an aura of the Jurassic era.
Michael ponders a lime green footed booby
We eventually left because the odor of bird poop got the best of us. It reminded us of our anchorage at Mazatlan, which got potent wafts from the sewage treatment plant with the afternoon seabreeze — another reason we wanted to keep moving.
Iguanas abounded
Aldebaran sailed south of Isla Isabel late that afternoon, heading back for the mainland and the waves of Chacala on the coast of Nayarit. The late-night, graveyard shifts went by smoothly — we had learned to download new podcasts in advance, like TED, This American Life, and audiobooks, and time simply flew by!
Dawn revealed strange shapes on the beach… “what are those things?” we wondered for some time. “Trees!” someone cried. After a month and a half of cactus, we were finally in the land of trees, just around the corner from Puerto Vallarta.
Tropical lush-ness enveloped us. We thought about sitting on this beach for days, drinking coconut water, and relaxing in the spirit of mañana. But whispers of a mystical, forbidden island reached our ears… and we knew the Green Coconut Run must keep going.
Las Monas, where Blue Footed Boobies nest on white sand beaches
The geographically rich Isla Isabel — note the crater lake and the half-crater on the north side of the island, called Islote Pelon. For the Google Map link, click here and select “Isla Isabel” in the menu.
Eric and Brian stoked to join the Green Coco Crew
Brian caught lunch. And dinner. And making a good candidate for the “Men of Aldebaran” calendar…..
Michael and Eric enjoy the beaches of Cabo Pulmo National Park right after hearing Eric was cleared to dive.
SUP paradise in the sheltered bays with dramatic red rock cliffs, white sand coves, and turquoise waters
Kristian and Sabrina and some Sea Beef
Eric made up for lost time with some epic dives
This was a magical moment, and in the next week of diving didn’t disappoint as we visited island after island and watched an aquarium of beauty swam around us. I shot very few fish overall because we didn’t need to more and no dorado graced us with their colorful presence.
Isla Espiritu Santu was like the landscape of the American Southwest meets a calm, tropical sea.
Diving the chain to the El Bajo Seamount, 7 miles out in the middle of the ocean.
Ryan finds a power spot for some beach yoga
The crew and Aldebaran at the Mazatlan anchorage
I certainly wasn’t expecting to eat as well as wedid — every meal seems to be a production aboard Aldebaran
By Matt Hendren
Coming off a week and a half of constant movement, newness of friendship, exciting adventures, and bonding through challenges… it’s been hard trying to reintegrate into the world that doesn’t pitch and heave but moves non-stop. Reflecting back on time with the Coco crew, I was amazed at how well everything came together, how well we functioned, and what camaraderie we created in such a short while.
I’d known Kristian and Sabrina for a couple months as their vessel eeked its way through the Ventura Boatyard. There was a call for volunteers to help get things moving and so I showed up to lend a hand… after seeing that I had some real world skills to offer in building storage and shelves and getting things organized, Kristian asked me to put in more time. I’d show up, work hours in cramped quarters, drinking warm C- (coors light), and dream about the voyages that would fill the spaces I was creating with memories.
Organizing and cleaning the dive gear in Ensenada while waiting for our ship papers to clear
I instantly grew to respect Kristian’s gentle and trusting way, and Sabrina’s no-nonsense and whimsical balance – great new friends. As we finished up the last touches in Santa Barbara, and enjoyed the evening together at their launch party, Kristian off the cuff suggested I meet up with them in San Diego in a week and jump off somewhere down in Mexico later. It was a question I’d fondled in my mind for months, but here it was … a plan that could happen. I cleared it with work, with my family, and then just thought to myself, why shouldn’t I be doing this?
Sailing downwind was a real treat
Throwing caution to the wind, I loaded up diving fins, a conch shell, and attempted to ride my supposedly fixed motorcycle to San Diego. With 4 battery charges and multiple push starts later, I joined the crew just as they were getting started on another 10pm session of boat organization and repair… we’d intended to leave the next morning, but there was still hours of work ahead. And so it goes with Aldebaran – never a gentle task master. Waking in the San Diego harbor, everything felt right about this and I was excited to be heading on another trip south of the border.
Our first adventure on the skiff: diving a pinnacle 1 mile offshore in remote San Benito Island. No big deal!
I’d spent little time with Michael and Ryan, but here we were, getting real cozy, sleeping in rotating bunks, starting each morning with a hug. It felt like I was just shoved into the middle of a new world where adapting and listening was crucial to sharing space, keeping peace, and embracing what life was offering me. The crew had been together a week by the time I’d arrived, and had spend the last two years doing trips to the Channel Islands. Though at times I could sense I might be an odd man out – lacking some experience in surfing and diving –I felt welcomed and celebrated from day one.
On a boat, there is nowhere to hide. All the ugly non-zen feelings you have come out somewhere or somehow. I wasn’t expecting to deal with my own ego on the boat, and really appreciated the patience people had with me learning to adapt with how life functions on a boat. For example, that it’s tough to remember not to flush the toilet paper (despite multiple signs I know!)
Sabrina was on sanity patrol aboard the boat (making sure we were clean and tidy), and always down for adventures, including shore landings chock full of elephant seals.
There are lots of good ways to do things, but from day 1, I decided that I would make it my goal to fit in, accommodate, and try what was working before offering any suggestions for how our trip should go. This attitude wound up working out great and I adapted to their systems and helped refine some things for the next guests who’d fill my shoes.
My expectations for the trip were few. I’d expected to be pushed in water sports, see a nice beach or two, and spend lots of time on the boat. Yes, all this and so much more … diving, surfing, paddle boarding… all relatively new experiences – to which I said, yes please, and drank from the firehose of life.
My last night on Aldebaran, we went to shore at Isla Natividad and were treated to lobsters at the island’s restaurant, aptly named “El Restaurante”. They asked us to pay for the beers only.
Cutting my surfing teeth at open doors, stand up/kneeling paddle boarding out around breaking reefs in the middle of the night, free diving on a pinnacle in the middle of the ocean floor… It took courage and trust to try new things in new ways, but coming away from the experience I learned to trust myself a little more, keep my head down when the boom is coming through, and gained some great memories with new friends.
Looking back, I feel like more than just learning and the adventure I took with me, I felt like I was really able to contribute and share the journey. Manning the helm on overnight passages, teaching knots, installing last minute hatch closures… this was not the typical sign me up for a fun time and pay to have experiences.
No, it was a cooperative adventure – putting in work days on the boat, taking turns with all the chores, being one of the decision makers that helps chart the courses and group activities. It was not only this, but the chance to see the work that I’d put into the boat really make life function there– that too was a satisfying, and what started off as unfamiliar waters with the Coco crew soon grew to include me as one of the family – miss you guys.
At Turtle Bay, where I got off Aldebaran, and began the journey overland north to San Diego, back to “real life”…
A lighthouse flashed in the pre-dawn hour. “Land ho!”
The two islands of San Benito took shape, with huge Cedros Island in the background. We were offshore in Central Baja, near a cluster of islands jutting out of the Vizcaino peninsula, after 2 nights and 230nm of sailing — our longest passage yet.
Originally we had planned on diving along the Baja coast, but 20nm south of Ensenada we registered 53 degrees Fahrenheit on our sonar, at Puerto Santo Thomas. “It is freezing!!!” said Michael after he free dove in the picturesque fishing bay. He speared two rockfish in the kelp forest. “I’m ready to go south!”
Say no more — we hoisted anchor that same day at 6pm, pulled out the harnesses, rigged up the jacklines to clip along the length of the boat, red lights for night vision, and set 4 “watches” for 3 hours each. The wind blew 12knots from the NW and Aldebaran galloped on a broad reach due South at 8 knots with the big blue reacher headsail and mainsail both at full throttle.
We pointed towards the rising constellation of Scorpio as we sailed into the night… south, ever to the south. “Geez, we are out here!” smiled Sabrina, looking into the 360 degree darkness, pulsating with white caps in all directions. The glowing phosphorescence in our wake twinkled with wild radiance.
The next 40hrs passed in a strange, wonderful continuum of 4 hour shifts, naps, brushing teeth, sun rises, star gazing, baking banana bread, and the occasional sail change from reacher to spinnaker and back. “Day or night, no matter. Our schedule revolves around the need to run the ship,” mumbled Ryan as if drunk, after a graveyard 1-4am shift. “It is a good delirium.”
Originally we had planned to visit Guadalupe Island, but now the Biosphere Reserve requires 10 day permits.We chose San Benito Island as an alternative because of its spectacular diving reputation and remotness.
Aldebaran dropped anchor around the corner from the fishing village. Once again, our Garmin Chartplotter insisted that we were on “dry land”, but nay, we were in a unbelievably scenic rocky cove, surrounded by tiny nooks FULL of elephant seals.
We had asked a local fisherman in a panga if he knew where the wrecks were, or good dive spots. He responded with a stern look. “Cuidado con el Abulon!” Careful with the Abalone? They might bite around here!
The cooperativa which manages the island’s fishery is VERY organized — they were worried about people catching their abalone and lobster (currently, they were out of season). They operate a tight ship which is an inspiration to other fisheries around the whole world. Check out Michael’s post about the Natividad cooperative’s efforts to tackle the effects of climate change.
Pescado, however is a different ballgame, and we caught a big sheepshead for fillet dinner and brunch ceviche… Yum! The freediving out there was spectacular. The stiff yucca plants on the hillside, iconic of the desert landscape, mirrored the underwater flora. It was uncanny.
In the early morning we took the skiff to a pinnacle (“Rocas Pinaculo” 1nm offshore on the windward, exposed side of the island and SCUBA dove to 80ft.. Lobsters in the hundreds stacked onto each other like people in a crowded subway during rush hour. Cuidado con el Abulon! We were careful. Schools of jack perch swarmed with glittering silver.
The trusty Luna Bell circumnavigated the island as we searched for wrecks, reportedly in the north coast per our dive guidebook. Eventually the lads went to the village and hiked to the old lighthouse, with its 1920s immaculate Parisian lens, and delapitaded construction. Everyone got some cholla spines stuck in the their feet.
Spirits remained high and we pulled anchor at 8pm, heading south to Isla Natividad, where we hoped to find waves on the building south swell.
Sailing is the best border crossing ever.
No traffic, no officials; only our cel phones bling bling indicated we had crossed into Mexico, sometime during the 3 hours passage from San Diego to the Coronado Islands. We basked in the relief of leaving the dock and its never ending projects!
We got a rebuilt alternator from an Iranian mechanic, new engine belts/ gauges with help from a Johnny Depp pirate look-alike, finished installing our watermaker, bought spare parts at four marine stores with discounts by local friends (thanks Eric!), new tools (thanks Robby!), shoved it all into the boat, and shoved off.
After one or two motorcycle breakdowns on Interstate 5, our friend and ship’s carpenter Matt managed to make it for this leg down from San Diego to Turtle Bay, halfway down the Baja peninsula. He joined Aldebaran’s four main crew members (Kristian, Sabrina, Ryan, Michael) who are onboard for the first 6 months of the voyage.
It was Matt’s first time snorkeling in a few years and he stepped up to the challenging open ocean conditions on the Coronados, which are basically 3 huge rocks. We dove through caves and noted the iconic Garibaldi, no longer protected as our California’s state fish. Poor orange fish, lacking any manner of self-defense, targeted for fish tacos now that we’re south of the “border”.
We awoke to chef MC’s amazing huevos rancheros a la Santa Barbara style, to celebrate our first day in foreign waters, and set sail heading south to Ensenada. By evening we were eating the freshest sashimi from a big 15lb Bonita that MC caught!! What a culinary beginning!
(I should add that 3 weeks into the voyage, we have eaten better than anytime else in our lives- and the standards don’t seem to be waning just yet)
About an hour before dark, the wind picking up, we decided to veer course towards Todos Santos island, which began our first unexpected adventure.
At the end of the calm 40nm passage to Santa Barbara Island Michael hollered: Fish! Fish! The trolling line was buzzing out and the sparkling hues of the fish jumped above the water’s edge. A shining bonito was our first catch of the trip – we were stoked!
A sashimi appetizer followed with green onions, wasabi, and shoyu. You should have seen all our faces as the freshness and deliciousness of the fish caused us all to unanimously raise our eyebrows, in a ‘holy-smokes-this-is-freakin-delicious!’ kind of way. It was the best sashimi I have ever eaten.
doesn’t get much fresher than this!
It was my first time visiting Santa Barbara Island, the smallest of our local islands, and boy was I taken away by its magic. We pulled into the lee of the island late afternoon with enough daylight to go for a dive. The island was teaming with life.
Numerous birds flew overhead, and the fish were bountiful below. We speared a sheepshead and an opaleye for a ceviche & fish taco dinner (respectively).
The crew was aching for exercise, so the following morning just after sunrise, we launched our red skiff Luna-Bell and paddled to shore. The landing on the pier was challenging as the south swell churned the waters into a turbulent mess around us. But we were all able to safely clamber up to shore.
Jogging around the island felt like the hills of Ireland – rolling, barren and dramatic. The view of Elephant Seal Cove and the giant cliffs in the North side are fantastic!
At the National Park Ranger station, we met a biologist named Jim. He showed us the nest of a little tiny native bird called the Scripps Murrelet – it is so furry and cute! He said that about 200 years ago there were so many birds that it was hard to walk around the island – then cats and rats brought by ranchers made easy prey of these birds as they hide under bushes instead of flying away. Sheep grazing destroyed the native plants that the birds used as habitat, and in their place the ice plant took over.
Red ice plant covers the hills of SB Island
We thought the ice plant looked so pretty in its red fields around the islands, little did we know it is a vicious little plant, which increases the salinity of the soil resultantly making it uninhabitable for other plants.
Biologist, Jim Howard, showing us some native seedlings
Jim explained the restoration process involved removing the exotic predators from the island as well as planting native bushes, all in the hopes of helping the seabirds find a home again. Great news is that their numbers have increased, especially on Anacapa island. You can support their efforts by checking out their website and visiting this magical island yourself.
Next up: The Burly Military Island of San Clemente
Unbelievable, we actually made it off the dock! We were installing gear until the last minute — solar panel mounts, caulking the deck, building the outboard mount — and somehow we put it all together and left Ventura Boatyard at noon on Saturday March 21. This was exactly 4 months to the day since we arrived in Ventura…. WOW.
We went to Anacapa and dove at Frenchy’s Cove, then spent the night at Smuggler’s Cove. The next morning we motored to Little Scorpion anchorage and had a glorious breakfast, what a great feeling to be back out here! The SCUBA compressor ran perfectly and we did a second dive through underwater caves, super clear water.
Sailing back across the channel revealed the need for some rigging modifications, which we’ll work on during the next few days in Santa Barbara harbor. ‘Twas a successful shakedown cruise!
from anacapa
leaving ventura
Green Coconut Run 
