Communication & HAM Radio - Then & Now

We just spent three days in Mexico City - between that and running about to see the sights here in the Teotihuacan area, we are way behind in getting our news out! The Internet is super, makes blogging possible, but the author is still the weak link in the plan.

So, I'm gonna go back to sailing days and admit how really bad we were about communicating then! I've had this piece pretty much ready to go....

Communication was way different back in our sailing years. We had to find ways to be in touch with folks back home and with other sailors, too.

We left California and sailed to Mexico in 1989 with high tech equipment - an electric typewriter! We wrote a letter home once a year - or occassionally twice (BTW we don’t have kids). We'd look for another sailor who was heading for the states from Mexico, Panama, wherever, and was willing to carry the stamped letters. Our incoming mail was handled by a stateside mail service, sent via first class mail to a post office or American Express office. It was not unusual for us to receive a bundle at three month intervals.

Our VHF radio, a boat-to-boat device everybody uses, had about a 25-mile range. They’re not much use when making a passage unless there are boats nearby, but work fine in an anchorage. Where there are many boats within range, they tune in to VHF at the same time each day to get news and gossip on a regular “net.” See the typewriter, VHF radio and radar screen in this pix of our nav station.

Here's San Carlos, a large anchorage with a daily net. But, even with a VHF, cruising – traveling by sailboat to distant places – was essentially a solitary experience at any time we were underway or anchored in a remote bay. That's one reason why sailors have such a fun time when they get together!

This is La Mouette in remote Bahia Santo Domingo, up north in the Sea of Cortez. Our dingy's on the beach, where I, G, rowed in to go snorkeling. I came came face to face with my first sea snake here and leaped out of the water! They're poisonous, but anatomically have a hard time opening wide enough to bite a person. So they say.

To solve the isolation situation, long distance radios - HAM and Marine Sideband, were used aboard many boats to talk with each other and with radio operators ashore in the states. The two technologies differ in output power and the frequencies available for use. And, you have to pass a TEST to get a HAM license!

For several months of our first trip, we used only VHF radio. Then, in summer 1990, we anchored in Baja’s Puerto Escondido (in Spanish, Hidden Harbor), a spectacular anchorage surrounded by protective hills on all sides, just south of Loreto. It's a popular Sea of Cortez “hurricane hole,” gathering place, and home base for boats who have been in the Sea for years.

Oh, the potlucks and music at Puerto Escondido!

One morning a HAM radio was offered for sale on the net, and Chuck jumped at it! He’d been trained as a radio operator in the Army Reserve, and dreamed of returning to the air waves. He installed the radio in our nav station, with a long wire antennae running from the top of the main mast to the mizzen. Lee W6NPQ and Karen WK6B Leonhard, long time aficionados, administered the novice exam in technical and code skills at the local trailer park. Chuck became a HAM with call sign KC6NLS!

HAM radio increased our ability to reach help should a problem occur at sea. It also opened up communication with sailors from Mexico to Panama. Every morning, dozens of boats tuned in to a 9 am HAM net where they listened to weather reports and major news (mostly sports scores) from stateside operators, and gabbed about location, passage, helpful tips, and general gossip.

Using HAM, Chuck connected with stateside HAM’ers who had equipment to make “phone patches” and transmit his voice over the telephone. Like this: Chuck’s mom would hear, ring, ring, and pick up the phone. “Hello ma’am, I have Chuck on the line, go ahead.” “Oh, Chuck, are you OK?...‘Over’.” Pause. “Hi, Ma, we’re in Panama…‘Over’.” The conversation continues over occasional static! While sailing, HAM was our stateside communication method. It is still the method used for boat-to-shore voice communication today - unless a boat is close enough to shore to use a cell phone!

Chuck's call sign is now AH6NR. He still uses HAM radio to connect with his radio operator pals, like Randy KH6RC, who has a home and B & B on the Big Island of Hawaii, where we stayed last summer. Randy works a lot with cruisers crossing the Pacific. When we're in Mexico, Chuck participates in marine HAM networks that assist cruising sailors in the Sea of Cortez. Here’s Chuck’s HAM radio antenna installed on our rig, and Randy's big tower, too.

Today's sailing folk also benefit from MANY advances that enable boat-to-internet access. HAM radio based services such as Air Mail, and Marine Sideband services like Sail Mail make it possible for boaters to use internet from anywhere. Just imagine – a sailing blog can be updated daily from offshore! With email you can solve equipment problems, communicate with businesses, and have access to current news! When we sailed, we’d occasionally tune in to international shortwave broadcasts, but usually would hear almost nothing about current events for months. I don’t think we were any the worse for that...there's a wonderful focus about being fully wrapped up in your own day to day experiences, and having to be completely on your own.

In 2006, we had a serendipitous reunion of HAMS in San Diego. Ilah WA6EDG & Jerry KE6YY, who did many of our international phone patches; Chuck, Jack VE3EED, and Wally AC6BA.

Today we have an Internet satellite service, but no satellite TV. Internet gives us communication, news and entertainment. We use SKYPE for phone calls to the states. Stateside or in Mexico we have breakfast listening to NPR radio. On Sunday, we tune in to our favorite New Orleans community radio station, WWOZ, to hear New Orleans music and the old-time music broadcast by our friend Hazel the Delta Rambler, which is followed by two hours of great Cajun music. Try it some day! Here is a station link:  http://www.wwoz.org/blog.

Cabo San Lucas to Banderas Bay, 1989

Log of S/V La Mouette. November 30 - December 8, 1989.
Magdalena Bay to Cabo San Lucas:  33 hours, 146 nautical miles.

Cabo San Lucas  to La Cruz de Huanacaxtle:  71 hours, 304 nautical miles.

Our last sailing entry left us in Magdalena Bay. We'll continue with

the next log entries that describe our passage from Mag Bay to Cabo

San Lucas, at the tip of Mexico’s Baja peninsula, and the passage

from Cabo to mainland Mexico.

 11/30 DEPARTING MAG BAY

We slipped away from our Magdalena Bay anchorage at dawn, leaving the bay in a red sunrise as the fishing pangas came from all directions to go to work. Many joined up with larger fishing boats in silhouette “trains.” Chuck caught 3 small fish right away and tossed them back, hoping for a biggie that didn’t bite. The passage was uneventful - not a bad thing! We had to motor a fair bit – best breeze is at night, it seems. Then to get to Cabo before dark in failed wind the second day we motored 6 hours. At 15 tons, La Mouette does ask for a fair breeze to get her going at a decent clip.

When we sighted the distinctive Cabo cliffs it seemed like a dream (hooray!). Chuck called ahead to check conditions inside the harbor – “bumping room only,” said Vance on Destiny, “but come on in!" Standing beside Chuck, hand on a shroud, I'm holding my breath as he threaded among the boats, but once the hook was down I got used to the narrow (unsafe in bad weather, well just hope for the best) quarters.
Getting to Cabo was a big deal. There were Mintaka, Avatar, Dulcinea, Endless Weekend, Geeja, Kokana, Golliard, Jupiter and others we haven’t met but heard on the radio. Everyone’s full of excitement at making it to this milestone, and we sat on the boat and talked to folks coming by in dingies for at least an hour, past dark. Genesis made port late, and we helped guide their tiny boat in. Then eat and sleep!

Wednesday we did the roundabout to check in at all the necessary offices you must visit at a major port: Immigration (Migracion), Port Capt’n (Capitania del Puerto), a bank next door to pay fee, then Customs (Aduana). We rode our folding bikes – it would have been a long walk! At first, I'm surprised at all the dirt streets, but maybe just because it's our first Mexican town. The officials were nice, and we meet friends on the way all doing the same thing, but it takes hours!

             

Immigration didn't seem to rate a real building! 

Then lunch (very welcome, I’ve a terrible headache) at Papi’s Deli, a renowned boater hangout, where everyone signs their boat name on the Baja Ha Ha "Class of 89" wall chart. The annual Baja sailing rally is sponsored by Latitude 38, a great San Francisco sailing magazine: http://www.latitude38.com/. Papi's owners Karen and Gil are very busy, but Gil volunteered to drive Chuck and S/V Kokana’s Chuck to a battery store – we both need new ones, and it’s wonderful they will do this! Chuck worked all next day on the project and it is done!

Cabo is a mass of construction completely surrounding the harbor – condos, shops, hotels, a marina. The noise and dust aren’t bad on the boat because of the onshore breeze, but town is sure dusty walking in the dirt streets amid construction, and all the outdoor restaurant chairs and tables are coated if they don’t clean constantly.
This week we met folks on other boats, shopped – each time finding a better fruteria or carniceria, and ate out! We’d head out at 9 or 10 after the local radio net, and by 12:30 were so hot and dusty we HAD to stop and eat. A very good dinner at Big Jose’s, BBQ ribs and chicken. Peso exchange is 2,650p/$1 US. Dinner was $15 for two, with margaritas. Giggling Marlin has a $3 lunch special.

We jugged water by tying the dingy to the rocks of the quay; walked to the curio market; climbed over the hill to Tienda Sol condo – a blinding white sand beach slopes to brilliant water, incredibly clear because the sand grains are so large they don’t stay suspended in the surf. Wind-sculpted boulders rise a mile away in each direction. Boats are anchored in the bay outside the marina, rising gently to the ocean swell. We like the inner harbor - it's free, flat, sheltered and way more convenient! On Monday, we'll make the rounds to the Port Captain and other offices to check out.

Lots of folks decided to fuel up today. There's George and Brenda on Avatar! It was uneasy getting settled at the fuel pier - C dropped the hook, I backed down, and Skip and Sheila from Djinn took the first line into the pier with their dingy. Once tied up, however, it was a nice place to pass the long wait for the one fuel hose and for water - 4 hoses, but those fishing boat crews are immaculate, particular and unhurried in washing their boats! Some of our boat gear can be seen in the pix below.

Little kids were fishing off the end of the pier with line and stick. At last, the hose, and a bountiful, refreshing rush of excess fresh water! We washed everything down and filled up. When we’d finished topping off our fuel, the pump man took the hose and said, “Beer!” We tossed him one, then the money in a coffee can, and he ignored us thereafter. "Quantos gallons?" called Chuck…78! At 1330 we were away from the fuel pier and back at anchor. 

12/6 DEPARTING CABO SAN LUCAS

Eager to move on, we left today in company w/Vance and his pickup crew Michael, on Destiny. We’re headed for mainland Mexico, to the small town of La Cruz de Huanacaxtle, at the north end of Banderas Bay. Puerto Vallarta is also located on that huge bay. So far, wind is tending to be on the nose – not typical and not the best for sailing our desired course of 109 degrees. But it is, by the way, hot and sunny, 8k wind, negligible swells, sort of perfect other than wind direction. I’d say Destiny will outdistance us before long!

1720: Not yet sundown, seas glassy, tiny surge, C. woke me (I wasn’t sleeping) because porpoise are coming toward us from starboard, 75 yards, they curl, curl, curl…like a sea serpent. In a couples of minutes ten or 15 are diving under the bow, herding us, following along at the surface to many feet down. It’s so clear they shine whiter when they roll their bellies up…many have whitish scars on their back in a claw-scratched pattern, especially aft of the fin on top. Could this be the result of a struggle with nets? Had they friends who didn’t make it? The smallest don’t show these marks…the biggest one has the most. He hovers below the surface right under the dolphin strike (a support cable from tip of bowsprit to the waterline). They are beautiful bottle-nose porpoise, larger than the grey and white common porpoise we saw so often in California.

1750: An anonymous radio call from a boat up ahead was a warning: “You folks back there are going to have company!” Soon along comes a big unmarked matte-black chopper, whump whump whump – shades of Airwolf! We see them circle Destiny…then head this way. The authorities (US Navy? We never knew!) in black buzz by fairly high and seem to go…then they’re bee-lining back low, 50’ to starboard. Another swoop by and they leave us.

2200: Now this is tropical sailing! Or it would be if we were sailing, not motorsailing. Tennies, no sox, lightest sweatpants rolled to knees, a sweatshirt is too hot, no hat. For the first time, my purple jacket is below during this night watch. Even the cat won’t sleep on the jacket’s lining!

Two days later: DAYBREAK, BANDERAS BAY

It’s 0730. My watch began with tinges of pink left from the 0600 dawn. We were already nearing land and had sighted the light on Roca Corbetana.

Yesterday, the 3rd day out of Cabo, was grinding – but just before sundown a large, graceful brown bird buzzed the boat several times, swooping and sticking its feet out as to land on the sprit but unable to in the confused and bouncy seas. At 0630 I was greeted by another, coming very close to drift in our following breeze. Got out the book - a blue-footed booby, immature. Soon it was joined by another…then nine were hovering and banking off the mainsail and bow, drifting over the stern. Now they come and go in ones and twos. The adults, marked with white, stay away. I glimpse them in the distance, interested in other things.

We reach the north end of Banderas bay, passing by Punta de Mita as we look for our destination, La Cruz de Huanacaxtle. Our eyes are on the depth sounder as we approach the anchorage. I wonder who's there? Soon we’ll drop the hook and go ashore!

Bahia Magdalena, Belcher's Point Anchorage, 1989

We've had a delay in leaving Roca Azul - Chuck has a cold! As it is now the 3-day Mexican Constitution Day holiday, it's just as well we wait a few days. In the meantime, here's another entry from our 1989 sailing log describing the second leg of our passage down the Baja coast, on our first trip to Mexico.

 

Log of the S/V La Mouette. November 25, 1989.

Cedros Island to Bahia Magdalena: 77 hours, 289 nautical miles.

(Bahia Magdalena is called Bahia Santa Maria on the map below. Cedros Island is the irregular island above Turtle Bay. Map provided by the great sailing rag, Latitude 38.)

On Thanksgiving Day we entered Magdalena Bay against a slight current after a three-night passage from Isla Cedros. As we sailed into the gap between rocky headlands, the bay opened up, so wide that we could not see the other side. We’re here!

Our first day we had a lovely sail down Cedros Island, in company with Bequia Chief and Lisette, then a tense time 6-8:30 pm between Cedros and low-lying Isla Natividad in moonless deep dark with dinner sticking to the pot on the stove as we plotted our DR course and stared into the black night! The rest of the night was quiet, and we had to motor a fair amount. The next day dawned hot and beautiful. 

By late afternoon the smooth seas grew large and confused, and wind built beyond the capacity of the 155 drifter hanked onto the headstay. Silly us didn’t reef until about 9 pm, when we switched the 150 for the staysail, C doing a heroic job in extremely rough 3-5’ seas and wind 20k. I was pretty good at the helm, too! Through night till dawn the ugly though never dangerous seas went on and on. In spite of alternating 3-hour watches, both of us were exhausted by morning, when seas became calm. Then we spotted a whale and tried to turn on the engine…they say the sound will keep them away. Click click goes the ignition, nothing. Dead battery! No wind! Lots of flopping around while getting out the portable Honda generator to recharge. Good thing we keep it lashed  handily on deck! After a couple of hours, we started the Perkins’ 50 horses and motored on. Finally had a chance to rest - at 2:00 pm for Chuck, 4:00 for me. A fine and fast sail that third night.

Daybreak, Chuck motoring spots land against the rosy sunrise and stops! I run up top (why could we be stopping?). We seemed so close! C flashed a light, and we moved cautiously. We checked soundings, tracking bottom contour. There could not be land here! We later discovered we were miles off and had been set (pushed by current) easterly about 12 miles from our intended landfall into the early mist of Bahia Santa Maria, north of Cabo Lazaro! No problem, we knew which way to go, and motored on. Rounding Cabo Lazaro light, we heard VHF radio chatter. It sounded as though half the sailing "class of ’89-90" was in “Mag Bay.” Bequia Chief and Lisette were already anchored. We glided south along the rocky cliffs.

We entered the huge bay in time to drop the hook and coordinate Thanksgiving dinner with the others. I'm so tired that baking pumpkin pies was nearly beyond me, and hadn’t made a crust from scratch in 15 years! Cruising does bring us back to basics! With C’s support I succeeded. He barbequed yellowfin and bonita tuna caught underway. Avatar hosted the crowd and it was a great evening.

The Bequia Chief women are great cooks!

Our anchorage is off the ruin of an old whaling station on a sand spit. There is a sizeable fishing camp with corrugated shacks and 30-50 people. Medium to low grey hills line the east side of the bay, with red dirt and a neglected bulldozed road behind the rocky beach. Pangas - Mexican seagoing open boats with outboards - come and go. One delivered lobster early the next morning – our first trade, and we got flustered and couldn’t figure what to give – the fisherman didn’t want a T-shirt - “Pequena!” (too small!) so we just gave him two beers. So unoriginal!

                                                Here's a group of typical Mexican pangas.

Next day I beachcombed with Bequia and Lisette – found large drifts of multi-patterned scallops and a few other shells, large whitened vertebrae (whale?), bird bones, pink barnacle skeletons, turtle shells, tiny white dried pinchers by the millions (lobster young?), amid grey and green stones. C burned trash. Magnificent frigate birds soared overhead.

Sunday the Mexican and the gringo kids have shy near-encounters until Bequia’s young Tavis gets out the fireworks. The first night display draws cheers from the shore community! The next night the older boys from two boats, Tavis, Ben and Ian, take the “bombas” ashore and draw a crowd, the men helping to shield the matches in the breeze. We adults played Pictionary till after 1 am aboard La Mouette.

Notes: Bahía Magdalena/Magdalena Bay is a 50 km long bay on the west coast of Mexico’s Baja Peninsula, noted for the seasonal migration of the California Gray Whales that arrive during winter to mate and bear their young. Due to its size, richness and strategic position, Bahía Magdalena has long been coveted by foreign governments, whalers and adventurers.

In the mid-1800s, the bay was the scene of a bloody whaling trade as American and European ships harvested California gray whales and littered the shores with the bones and rotting remains of animals that had been boiled down for their oil. By the turn of the century, commercial fishing brought tall ships from distant ports to harvest the abundant fish, lobster, clams and scallops until overfishing removed the industry incentive. In the 1950s, canneries were built to serve international Pacific fishing fleets.

Today, more ecological uses of the bay include winter whale watching excursions, sports fishing, adventure camping, and ecological tours of the bay and mangrove swamps, now sea bird sanctuaries. A Gray Whale Festival is held in February and March

Cedros Island, North Anchorage, 1989

Log of the S/V La Mouette. November 17, 1989 

San Diego-Cedros Island: 74hours, 340 nautical miles.



Friday we sighted the north light at Mexico’s Cedros Island, almost exactly four days out of San Diego on our longest sailing passage yet. Seas were kind, wind not enough – we motored about 38 hours – but overall conditions were great.

We had a glorious sail for 20 hours Thurs-Fri. We’d never experienced such smooth water at sea, with an 8-12 knot wind moving La Mouette sweetly at 4.5 - 5.6 knots. No whitecaps, not even wavelets on the flat sea, and down below the boat rose and fell so easily that you hardly knew you were moving! Swells of two-three feet were so long and even they could not be felt!

Also had the usual night thrills with freighters in shipping lanes. Dead reckoning* showed us about five miles off to the east of our actual Cedros location due to trusting an erratic loran reading, but the island of our first landfall peeped through the morning haze. Soon, the light tower and small village appeared, falling behind as we followed the southern coast of the island. A fine passage, and Jogo the cat not sick once!

We anchored near shore on a four to six fathom shelf as the cruising book advised, next to rocky steep hills with century plants, dry shrubs, and red soil above greenish cliffs falling to the water’s edge. The first delights of this isolated place were young California sea lions leaping out of the water in a line like dolphins. Some clap in midair before diving back in! Narrow rocky beaches are lined with sea lions and one group of elephant seals – noisy!! The sounds these creatures can make are amazing. The male gargle sounds like our bilge pump! Young California sea lions swim around La Mouette, you can see them spin under the clear water. Thanks to the terific sailing magazine Latitude 38 for the map! The largest Island above the hook is Cedros.

A lazy afternoon went by waiting  for Bequia Chief’s arrival late in the day with Tom, Jan, and kids Jala & Tavis aboard. They’d traded fishermen who came up to their boat M&Ms and coke for several lobster. We contributed albacore Chuck caught Thursday night and had a potluck at our place, discussing the exhaustion of night watches, adventures, problems and the beauty of our anchorage.

We woke to blue sky to see Lisette I with Don, Lisa, Ben, Ian and Dan at rest in the anchorage. We dingied to watch seals while the two families snorkeled and speared fish. Seal puppies were so curious they’d follow the dingy, joined by more and more buddies till they were nosing each other, rolling in bundles and poking their Darth Vadar eyes at us. Chuck discouraged one from jumping in by banging the paddle on the boat. As we came to close to a harem on the beach, the male plunged into the water to charge. ”Turn on the engine!” We visited with the others, played with the SSB radio and got together at 4:00 for seafood potluck. The fishermen’s panga came by about that time and we declined lobster, placing an order for ten, “manana, por favor!”

Log entry the next morning: Now, after the first perfectly calm night and day, we’re drinking double coffee to recover from an incredibly rolly night – one of the worst– due to gusty wind and swells…where do they come from? And always at night! In the morning we’re a bit apprehensive, wondering whether the next night will be sleepless again, or as tranquil as the first.

Notes:  Cedros is the fourth largest island in Mexico, located west of the Baja Peninsula & north of Turtle Bay. In ages past, Cedros had an indigenous population of 1,000-2,000 dating back 10,000 years. The 2005 population of 1,300 is employed largely through a fishing cooperative and a trans-shipment deep-water port to export salt mined on mainland Baja. Today, tourists arrange eco-tours, biological expeditions and fishing trips to the island.

* In 1989, Loran navigation was unavailable south of Cedros Island, Mexico. Satellite systems were too pricey for us, so from here on we navigated by dead reckoning – a great name for a system designed to keep you off the rocks! A “DR” calculation is based on time/speed/direction traveled, taking into account a guess about the impact of current. An estimated “track” line is plotted (drawn) on a paper chart, with an “X” marking position, updated hourly. We’d studied celestial navigation, but to tell the truth, our attempts did not yield impressive results - and there is always the risk of dropping the sextant overboard! We have kept our lovely sextant as a souvenir!