ISLA SAN FRANCISCO

24º 49.287 N, 110º 34.247 W

Thursday, November 17, 2022

Podcast

A Final Dip in the Sea of Cortez: Isla San Francisco

We departed Tembabiche early, racing to catch favorable winds toward Isla San Francisco. This island is famed among cruisers for its stunning crescent-shaped bay and iconic ridge trail. As we drew near, I could see why so many people consider it a must-visit spot: steep bluffs flanking a shallow, curved beach, with unbelievably clear water.

I slowed Thaalia to a leisurely pace, scanning for a patch of sand in about 12 feet of water. George stood at the bow, anchor remote in hand, giving me wave signals. When he pointed decisively, I took Thaalia out of gear, letting our momentum drift us forward. The chain rattled, then the anchor hit bottom. Thaalia swung gently, the anchor dug in, and we exhaled. Another safe landing in paradise!

Soon enough, we had our customary arrival sip of “rum and yellow shit”—and we were officially in chill mode. A few other boats shared the anchorage, but it wasn’t nearly as crowded like it was last time.

The weather was exquisite that day, perfect for a swim! I knew this would be my last chance to enjoy the waters at anchor. Dropping into the water felt like entering a giant outdoor aquarium. Vibrant fish—parrotfish, triggerfish, and those playful sergeant majors—darted among boulders. The water was so clear, it was almost disorienting to see the rocky slope dropping away beneath us. I even caught sight of a decent-sized moray eel slipping into a crevice.

After half an hour, we crawled back onto the dinghy, and climbed onto the boat. George joked that I could’ve stayed in longer if I didn’t squeal at every little fish that swam by. I teased him right back, pointing out that he clutched the ladder when that eel appeared.

George decided he fancied a real dinner, not just leftovers. He rummaged in the galley and found enough flour, yeast, and cheese for a pizza. I teased him that we’d become the traveling pizzeria of the Sea of Cortez, but I couldn’t complain when the aroma of fresh crust and tangy sauce filled the cabin. We ate on the cockpit table, the orange glow of sunset reflecting on the calm water. A pair of dolphins cruised by at a distance, their fins breaking the surface in a slow, easy rhythm.

Night fell, unveiling a sky packed with stars. By 9 PM, the anchorage was hushed, save for the quiet chatter from a nearby boat whose crew was also stargazing. I gazed up, thinking of all the spots we’d visited since September—my birthday, hikes with Sam and Jess, spontaneous gatherings with other cruisers, never-ending hunts for fresh dorado, and of course, the calming “rum and yellow shit” at each landfall. Isla San Francisco felt like a culmination of those experiences, a near-perfect vantage point for reflecting on the journey so far.

It had been a whirlwind trip down the coast, our journey taking less than two weeks from Bahia de Los Angeles to here. One more push tomorrow all the way to La Paz, and we’d be home!