I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you that it doesn’t take much for us to change our cruising plans. Whether it’s serendipity or just an unexpected 20kt wind in the right direction, if it feels right we roll with it and we’re rather proud of that.
The day startd much like yesterday when our sleepy little anchorage off Isla Contadora began to ripple with a breeze. We hemmed and hawed, should we go or should we stay? More me than Marce. Finally I saw two inflatables raftd up together and I said let’s just go in and see what this place has to offer. At the very least the Hotel Romantico that faces the harbor will have wifi. What makes you say that? It would have to, and besides, our beach landings could use a bit of practice. There are no dinghy docks and the tides are fierce, about 17 feet, which leaves you with two options: (a)drag a 325 lb. RIB way up the beach or (b) rig an anchor out in the water and run a painter way up the beach and tie it to something that won’t float away. We chose the beach. That damn thing is heavy.
So one of the rafter-uppers said they were going for a walk and they’d show us around. It’s a beautiful island featuring a small airport that bisects the entire island coast to coast, a nude beach that is right below the landing approach — that’s gotta be distracting — a couple of small shops and the aforementioned Hotel Romantico Bar and Restaurant.
After our walk and just a few provisioning items Marce kiscked back at the HRB&R and I went on a wild goose chase after stamps and a post office, and can now categorically state that Contadorians have no stamps, nor do they have a post office.
So as I say on the beach we chose option (a) not realizing that we had beached Catnip at high tide and were what looked like a good 100 feet from anything that would float a 325 dinghy, and I have to say we were making slow but steady progress when several beefy cruisers showed up and made quick work of our overland Catnip adventure.
Our plans for the following morning were simple, motor over to see a rusting hulk of an 1800s submarine used in pearl harvesting that was stranded on Isla San Telmo’s beach, then putt across the bay to La Esmeralda, anchor and finish provisioning. But then the wind picked up. It was in a favorable direction. It was good. Very good. Too good. We’d been told to expect a slog to the south just to find wind.
New plan. See you in the Galapagos.