Hiatus was boarded by two soldiers and Tropical Dance was boarded by three. Moody Blues only had one official come on board. (Not the man - kid - in the photo.) The official never went below and when Gene asked him if he write in our logbook that all was in order, he did so with trepidation for he has probably never been asked to do this before and wasn’t sure if it fit protocal or not. But he did it.

Therefore, being the upstanding law abiding cruisers that we are, the Mexican Navy set us free. The whole ordeal took about 1.5 hours and by then the sun was low on the horizon and we went back to motor sailing.  Moody Blues and Hiatus were heading for Puerto Madero to top off our fuel tanks with the last cheap fuel (it’s almost double in Central America) and Tropical Dance had a deadline to keep, so kept going for El Salvador.

When we reached Puerto Madero’s knarily fuel dock there were huge black tires hanging down off the ominious concrete bulkhead. “Yuck,” I said to Gene. “Try to get our fenders even with the tires,” he replied. It was hit and miss, the tires were massive like sausages compared to our fenders that would be like little cocktail hot dogs.  Immediately we acquired black tire skidmarks on Moody Blues’ hull.  Hiatus ended up side-tying to us and it was a team effort for both of us to fuel up. Once full of fuel, the Mexican Navy  appeared and reboarded us to check us into the state of Chiapas (before we were in checked by the Navy patroling the state of Oaxaca’s waters).  An clearing agent arrived and waited for the Navy to complete their inspection and then he said it would be $115 for each boat to get checked in and out of the country.

Fine, for us to do it it would take a trip to the airport, meaning a Taxi and we were tired after the two overnighters. So we gave him our paperwork and within two hours he was back and we were checked in and out of Mexico.  Pleased, we left the fuel dock and anchored nearby in the bay. We had just gotten settled in when Kent came over the VHF telling us the Navy told them they had to move Hiatus, so then motored around a bit, but it’s tight in there, so they ended up side-tied to us again. We got everything secure and crashed.     

Next morning we decided to take off earlier than planned, and did. No sooner did we get out of Puerto Madero when we were called on the VHF and told we had to return to check out of Chiapas. Gene about had a fit, and Kent was about to explode too. Gene had just raised the mainsail, which is a  workout. So down  came the sail, around we and Hiatus turned and back into Puerto Madero we went. Here came the Navy again, boarded us and brought the drug dog on board. (What did they think we scored during the night? And as if they weren’t watching us all night!)  All was right so they  finally let us go and we left Puerto Madero knowing there was a good chance we’d get boarded and expected again in a couple of hours when we hit the Guatemalan border.  But lets remember the Mexican Navy is out there to fight the war on drugs and protect us from bandidos. No sense in making waves!

When you have a good weather window one foot on the beach following the cresent-shaped bay is the safest way to cross the Gulf of Tehuantepec. Our window hit, so Moody Blues,  Hiatus and Tropical Dance took off at dusk. We stayed the recommended 3 to 5 miles offshore putting along with mainsails steadying us. It was nothing like the crossing  Gene and I experienced in 1982 where I wrote: “Suddenly the Captain he howled like a madman set free: ‘They’re claiming the winds will be up to sixty. And that’s not all,’ he said chortling, ‘there’ll be thirty-foot seas!’  This crossing was cake until . . .

About 20 hours into it the wind picked up and we were sailing over 7.5 knots when the Mexican Navy arrived.  Kent called us on the VHF and said, “Susea the Mexican Navy is calling on channel 16.” I switched to 16 and returned their hale in my Spanglesh. The jefe (chief) asked, “Weel joo star joo eengeens ees neeseeree eenspeccíon?”

‘Sí Capitán, no problemo. Gracias.’

“Damn it,” Gene exploded, “the best sail we’ve had this whole trip and now this. Tell everybody to get their sails down and start their engines.” I announced the bad news as the Navy deployed their 6 man inflatible, stuffing 8 guys into it (obviously this wasn’t a safety inspection). Forth they came like 747s carrying automatic assalt rifles, you know, AK 47s. Hiatus was first.

So far on this cruising pilgrimage, Kent and Heather Sisk on Hiatus have become our best friends.  Not only do we beat to the same tune, our boats keep a simuliar pace. Dan and Reylyn Yarussi of Tropical Dance are cruisers we’ve  just met. So the reality of the situation is that none of us really know each other that well. Anyone of us could be drug runners and the others wouldn’t know it. It’s all about trust. If one boat is found with contriband we are all up shit’s creek. We will all get busted or at the least waylaid for a very long time. My imagination took off. What if the Navy found drugs? Morada tonada (stay tuned)!

WE HEAD FOR the Bay of Tehuantepec. This is a huge deal to get across the bay before the weather turns bad. Last time I crossed this bay was in February of 1982 and I wrote a poem that I read outloud to all the cruisers last Monday night at a dock party. (Anyone want to hear it?)

     So it’s 300 miles to Puerto Madera where we will probably stop and get fuel. That will be our last stop in Mexico and from there we’ll by pass Guatemala and go into Bahia del Sol, El Salvador.

     As you can see Gene gave the engine a once over. Think good thoughts for our crossing and stay tuned.