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Dusk, though, brought a spectacular sight when a nearly still
full harvest moon rose slowly out of the mist to the east. The sea
sparkled as we tore along, now much closer to the shore as we
approached Cabo Lazaro and Punta Hughes. Meriwether had lots
of company, and the AIS was invaluable in helping to sort out
crossings with other boats in the dark.T
he charm of Bahia Santa Maria is that
there’s nothing there but an anchorage
on its northern shore. So it was a sight to be-
hold to round the point just before midnight
and see a city of anchor lights dancing against
the moonlit shore.
Monday, we relaxed. Randy, Kurt and I
blew up the inflatable and went for a ride.
There was quite a swell running, and we heed-
ed Steve’s request not to try a landing on the
beach. Instead, Randy and Kurt swam in
the waves while I motored around, watching
local fishermen and their pangas bust through
the waves and enter the inlet to a mangrove
lagoon where there were a handful
of fishing shacks hunkered down
against the banking. A few Ha-Ha
crews tried landing their own
inflatables — some successfully,
others not so much. It was all good
entertainment.
Kurt and I paid a visit to
Profligate, where Ha-Ha hats and
T- shirts were selling like hotcakes.
We stopped by Bonzer, a lovely
Chris White trimaran sailed by
Michael and Vi cki Novak, of
Ventura, California. Over the radio,
we’d heard that Bonzer had pegged
19 knots on the speedo on the way
from Turtle Bay. Michael was a for-
mer tug and crane operator; Vicki
had just retired as a West Marine
store manager. They’d always
dreamed of doing the Ha-Ha, and
now here they were, sailing fast and
having fun.
I also stopped to visit with the Ullman
Sails boat, where Chuck Skewes and Sabine
Suessmann sat in the cockpit taping a shred-
ded spinnaker back together. It was Chuck’s
third Ha-Ha. He was partners at Ullman lofts
in California and Puerto Vallarta. He and his
shipmates found an enlightened business
model in mending the Ha-Ha carnage for
free; the rally gets the fleet to Mexico, and
later, when sailors arrive in Puerto Vallarta,
they naturally visit his loft for replacements.
Brilliant.
Rafted up with them was Jersey Girl, an
Irwin 65 sailed by Kenny Knoll, Donna
Cramin and a few friends. Kenny and Donna
had sailed south with the 2016 Ha-Ha and spent the ensuing year
cruising Mexico. They met wonderful people and had such a great
time that they decided to do it all over again. So, a couple of weeks
before the start of the 2017 rally, they bashed northward 1,500 nau-
tical miles from the mainland back to San Diego, making it just in
time for the skippers meeting.
“I think our families think we’re crazy,” quipped Donna. But,added Kenny, “We have a lot of fun.”
The highlight of the stopover, and perhaps the whole trip, for
me anyway, was the gathering the following afternoon on a bluff
overlooking the anchorage. Inside a shack on the hillside, local
fishermen set up a buffet; outside, tubs were filled with ice and
Pacificas. A rock band, the Fantastic Four, traveled over the moun-
tains from La Paz, set up a portable generator
and let things rip. It was otherworldly to be in
this place, so beautiful and so remote, and yet
be surrounded by a few hundred people, all of
whom had dreamed of being here — and in
countless different ways, made it happen.A
fter Bahia Santa Maria, the final 180
miles to Cabo San Lucas seemed anti-
climactic. The start the next morning was at- By the time we were at the line,
the breeze had died completely and the
Pooh-bah proclaimed it time to motor.
Still, it was a spectacular morning. We
steamed close to shore, where the surf kicked
up a haze along the beach. Further
inland, though, it was crisp and
clear. Along this stretch of Baja,
there was a whole lot of nothing to
look at, and I couldn’t get enough of
it. A light wind filled in after lunch,
and we hoisted the chute, only to be
becalmed again a short time later.
We crossed the Tropic of Cancer
around midnight, and by sunrise,
Cabo Falso was in our sights. There
was steady traffic now — fishing
boats, yachts, freighters and such
— and at the cape, a jarring number
of resorts and hotels were under
construction on the hillsides. Mile
by mile, we returned to civilization.
When we anchored around lunch-
time in Cabo San Lucas, personal
watercraft swarmed like mosquitoes
and high-volume drinking contests
ashore overwhelmed the senses.
That evening after dinner, Steve
and Randy stayed on the boat, but Kurt and I
hitched a water-taxi ride to shore. We’d come
this far and didn’t want to miss the Can’t
Believe We Cheated Death Again dance party
at El Squid Roe, a notorious local watering
hole taken over annually by the Ha-Ha. There
were dancing and tequila and jello shots well
into the night. And on Friday, we of course
went ashore for the infamous kissing contest,
where couples display their passion while
rolling in the waves.
But to be honest, I could have skipped all
that. For me, the Ha-Ha was about the sailing
and the mountains and the 800 or so miles of
nearly empty coast we’d just tackled — and
about meeting so many sailors for whom this was just the start of a
whole new adventure.
Mark Pillsbury is CW’s editor.
The 25th annual Baja Ha-Ha kicks o in San Diego on October 28
and arrives in Cabo San Lucas on November 10. Details can be found
at baja-haha.com.