Yup. 'Baja Bash' is the correct terminology. Every few minutes there's a big CRASH as we drop off the back of an especially big wave and careen into the trough behind it. 'Uphill' is a really good way to describe it.

We left the dock at 7:20 this morning after a leisurely hour grabbing breakfast and doing last minute jobs. Had to wait for the Thunder Boats to get out of Cabo, too, or else risk our lives if we perchance got between them and their fish! Mainsail hoisted with a single reef, and off we went to our date with the dreaded Cabo Falso. And it was indeed fearsome: winds 20 to 28 knots on the nose as we motorsailed into the six-foot waves. Adding in our own boatspeed, we had 30 to 35 knots blowing across the deck as we all huddled in the pilothouse. Lots of whitecaps all around, and three other sailboats -- all much smaller -- attempting the same passage.

But after a couple of hours the winds slacked to 12 knots and the waves dropped off to three or four feet. Much more comfortable motorsailing at about 7.5 knots. Raven drives beautifully to windward this way, with the reefed main strapped down amidships and the wind at about 15 degrees off the bow. It's a far faster way to get to a windward destination than trying to sail upwind with jib and main, as long as you have enough fuel. And we do. At least we hope so. We're taking it easy on fuel consumption early in the trip, just in case.

Oops. Wind's back up to 16 knots and we're pounding into the waves more. Sleep could be a little scarce tonight. Speed is down, too, as the big waves slow us. Each CRASH takes a knot off the speed until we can catch up again. Then another CRASH . . .

Our watch system is set up: each of us has three hours on and nine off, which is pretty easy. Plenty of time to sleep, twice a day. I have 2 a.m. to 5 a.m. and 2 p.m. to 5 p.m., Stef has 5 to 8, Lesley has 8 to 11, and Bob is taking 11 to 2.

Lesley whipped up some terrific quesadillas with fresh salsa for lunch, and I've got a lasagna in the oven for dinner (yep, one of the frozen easy-meal treats Signe left us). To that we'll add a fresh romaine salad and French bread. Hmm. Gotta figure out an easy dessert. Dinner will usually be the one meal a day we eat together in the pilothouse. When it's rough like this, meal service works like this: 1) serve salad with dressing in big, deep plastic bowls; 2) collect bowls and utensils and wash; 3) serve lasagna in the bowls; 4) collect and wash again; 5) serve dessert in bowls; 6) collect and wash. Whew.

We're all kind of used to this pounding by now, and we're pretty mellow. Chatting in the pilothouse or reading below to pass the time. It'll take us at least four and a half days to get to San Diego, if all goes well and we don't stop.

Hasta manana, amigos.

Jan

This is what's called a weather window. We're lucky and we know it.

Last night was rough through about 1 a.m., with all that pounding I told you about. The wind was up to 20 knots or so, with waves to go with it. We'd drop off the back of a big one and smash into the next. BANG! CRASH! You could feel the mast vibrate and the whole boat shudder. No sleep for anyone.

But then the wind dropped below 12 knots, the waves died down, and all was well with the Ravens. By this morning, the wind was down to 6 or 8 knots and we neared Bahia Santa Maria, 180 miles from Cabo. That's the second bay where the 112 boats of the Baja Ha-Ha rally stopped last November. Big, beautiful, open bay that's easy to enter day or night. We wended our way in and found only two Mexican fishboats and a single sailboat. We didn't even put down the anchor; just floated around for a half hour or so to do some checks and minor repairs away from the ocean swells. Checked the engine and transmission oil, fuel tanks, bilges and pumps, tried to repair a navigation light (no luck; gotta use the backup), taped closed the vent that flew open in the forepeak, and so on. Just the usual small items that arise on passages.

We're now motorsailing on Stage Two, 250 miles upwind to Turtle Bay, under our usual rig: no jib, single reef in the mainsail, lying as close to the wind as she'll go. The engine stays at 2,000 RPM, and the whole package gives us nearly 8 knots almost directly into the winds, with pretty good fuel economy. A great way to travel. The winds are nothing like last evening, only 10 to 12, so we have hopes for a comfortable night.

We had lasagna, a big salad, and French bread last night for dinner. Lunch was microwaved Hot Pockets, but tonight's dinner will be a big step up, courtesy of Lesley. To the melodic strains of Willy Nelson's "Crazy", she's whipping up, and I quote, "Honey Ginger Orange Chicken, served on bed of steaming rice, and accompanied by a medley of stir fry vegetables." We can hardly wait.

My big treat was to take a shower last night before turning in. Unfortunately, I tried it in the forward shower, which was particularly violent during all that pounding. Must have my sea legs, because I'm proud to say I finished the shower and didn't lose my lasagna!

I just came off watch and Stef is up there in the pilothouse now. The watch keeper's job is to keep the boat driving and comfortable, watch for signs of problems in the sail or engine. He varies the autopilot heading as the wind shifts and changes strength. Most of all, though, Stef is watching the radar screen and through binoculars carefully for any signs of other ships or boats. Especially ships, which can be scary. Since we left Cabo, we've seen: an enormous cruise ship, a huge container ship only a mile away (daytime, thank heavens), a tanker 10 miles off, a 150-foot Mexican tuna clipper (cutting in front of us and scaring us half to death early this morning), six sailboats, five sport fishing boats, and so on. Right now, though, we're really alone out here: no dots on the radar at any distance.

We've also heard talk on the VHF radio about a sailboat with fuel problems and one with a severe oil leak that means they'll have to try to sail all the way to San Diego (ugh). We're grateful not to have had any problems so far.

Stef and Lesley have each had plenty of sleep, while Bob and I are short a few hours; we hope to make that up tonight. All of us are keeping our sense of humor and actually enjoying the passage. Plenty of joking and kidding. I'm very pleased to have recruited such a competent, energetic, and amiable crew. Great people to share a seagoing closet with for several days!

Cheers . . . Jan

We can hardly believe our good fortune.

The wind died off to five knots during the night and we've been motoring on glassy seas for 18 hours. We're at Turtle Bay already, while the sailboats we started with have dropped way back and are now well out of VHF range. This weather 'window' has turned into a big set of French doors with balcony and terrace. The overcast and haze evaporated a few hours ago, and Bob and Lesley are reading in the sunny cockpit. We've all had lunch and hot showers and are feeling pretty good.

A little while ago, we stopped the boat again and shut the engine down, just like we did yesterday, to check the engine fluids, bilges, fuel levels and so on. Did the math and found we are ahead of our fuel consumption budget, so we have no need to stop to refuel in Turtle Bay (the ONLY place for fuel between here and Cabo). The unanimous crew decision was to bypass Turtle entirely and just keep on truckin' to San Diego in these ideal conditions. Did I mention how lucky we are with the weather? And how happy we are with Raven's performance?

Since the CRASHING stopped a couple of days ago, the chief entertainment is no longer keeping a good fingernail grip on the berth. Now, we mainly pass the time speculating what we'll have for the next meal, and what messages from friends and families the twice-daily email session will bring. Oh, and reading mysteries and pulp novels. Stef taught Lesley how to play Baja Rummy, even though he's handicapped by the fact that we only have two card decks aboard, and has yet to win a game from her. Bob is working out how to fit 350-gallons of fuel tankage into North Road's 37 feet, and he and I are working on our third book each.

We could arrive in San Diego as early as Saturday morning. Two more nights at sea and it'll be done in just over four days! Thoughts now turn to the delights of civilization. I think we'll all have dinner Saturday at some nice restaurant that doesn't pitch and roll. Lesley is hallucinating about shopping malls and wonders how late they'll will stay open on Saturday.

Your favorite crew is healthy, happy, and lucky. We do miss our families and seeing them will be another reward for reaching our goal.

Cheers . . . Jan

Only 167 miles to go, and we've been speeding along at between 9 and 10.5 knots for several hours. We have a light breeze from the southwest that's letting us carry the jib, and we stepped up the RPMs a notch because we're way ahead of our fuel consumption budget. At this rate, we'll get to the Customs dock in San Diego pretty early Saturday morning.

We're about halfway between Turtle Bay and San Diego, having crossed the big Bahia Sebastian Viscaino, the last of the dangerous lee shores on this coast. Only 20 miles offshore now and closing. We'll pass Ensenada in the middle of the night, so we'll be sure to stay at least 10 miles off to avoid most of the traffic. Most of last night the radar screen was utterly blank as you clicked through the ranges: 1.5 miles, 3 miles, 6, 12, 24, 48. Not a ship, boat, island, or rock to be seen. Really gives you a feeling for the emptiness of this region. When Stef came up to relieve me at 5 a.m., I nuked ham and cheese Hot Pockets for us to ward off the cold and the blackness of the night.

Sleep is getting into a rhythm now, and the motion is a lot easier. Just these long NW swells, and no more holding on by your fingernails.

This morning we had a visitor. I had opened a few hatches to air out the interior, and an exhausted little sparrow showed up in the fore cabin. He was flapping around and beating his little head in terror against the portholes and the mirror, so I caught him in a towel and put him out on deck. Right back inside he went! After this happened three times, we closed the hatches, found him a cozy hideout on deck, and gave him a little bread. I'm sure he'll ride with us until San Diego, then disappear there. Hmmm. Should I put him on the crew list?

We're all tired but still in good spirits. Lots of chatter during lunch today in the pilothouse. Bob and Lesley studying the West Marine catalog to decide what goodies they're going to buy for North Road. Another round of Baja rummy is in the works, too. Stef went freezer-diving for a couple of those Sarah Lee goodies we know are deep in there somewhere. As usual, food is our principal entertainment.

Tomorrow . . . San Diego!

Cheers . . . Jan

(Sorry about the two-day delay in posting this last report on our Baja Bash. Breakdown in communications. Hope we didn't have you worried.)

We did it in only 100 hours! Tied up at the San Diego Customs dock at 9 a.m. and did high fives all around. Except for the first night it was, as we've told you, an easy passage. Stef, who is going to do the Bash again in his own boat a few weeks from now, is praying for the same weather.

Our last night at sea was full of adventures, especially as we approached Ensenada. The ship and fishboat traffic was dense and our radar had five to eight targets for several hours. Big change from the previous three days when the screen stayed blank. During my 2-to-5 watch, there were two LARGE blobs on the screen that gave me fits. I thought we'd leave them to port like all the other ships heading south along the coast, so I kept heading a little to starboard to give them more room. But they kept coming closer and closer instead! When they were a mere 3 miles away (well inside the danger zone with fast-moving ships), I called on the VHF and got no response. Ulp. So in desperation I made a huge turn to port and hoped they'd go by on that side. Turned out to be two monster cruise ships, lighted up like cities, heading into Ensenada and right across our path! We passed one of them close enough to read the menus.

Soon after dawn broke, no one could sleep and we all showered (thought the Customs man might appreciate that) and got ready for the Big City. Our welcoming committee was a six-engined military aircraft taking off on a flight path two feet above our masthead.

Customs was perfunctory and we headed off to our slip at Kona Kai Marina. Welcomed as returning friends by the manager, we felt right at home. What was the first thing we did? Yep, all four of us went to West Marine, not so much to buy things -- that'll come later -- as to simply walk the aisles and admire all the stuff we couldn't get in Mexico.

Stef flies back to Baja Monday, while Lesley and Bob will spend a few days here making multiple visits to West Marine. We're wondering if Mexican customs will admit a pair of Canucks with eight duffle bags of boat hardware!

Now to all those boat jobs I've been accumulating for months. No more excuses. Sigh. But first, I'm going to fly to San Francisco to see Paul and Michelle, then home to see my sweetie.

Warm regards . . . Jan

PS: Sunday, we all attended a Padres baseball game, just to get back into the rhythm of North America. And today we went out for a terrific sail -- a real one, not motorsailing -- in 11 to 13 knots of nice breeze off Point Loma. Raven showed her usual impressive stuff. Paul & Michelle are coming to visit soon. Life is good.