Celtic Challenge Youre heading towards France

When I set off to cox most of 90 nautical miles across the Irish sea (my first ever rowing expedition) my idea of a long outing was less than 2 hours, and on a river.

But somewhere along the way, after the fabulous sunrise, the sight of the Welsh coast after a night of rowing out of sight of land, and then the arrival on it made me realise the incredible sense of achievement you could feel, despite being second last in a race (and Im normally a bad loser).

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Event: Celtic Challenge
Where: The Irish Sea, between Arklow and Aberystwith
Distance: 90 nautical miles
Time: 15h 58mins
Boat type: Pembrokeshire longboat
Number of crews in the event: 14 or so
Event Website: www.celtic-challenge.org.uk

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Why we finished up doing it
A fellow member of Thames Valley Skiff Club was on holiday on the Welsh Coast, and got chatting in a pub one evening to members of Aberaeron Lonbgoat Rowing Club. Who finished up offering him use of one of their Pembrokeshire longboats, along with the services of a support crew, if he entered a team in the next years race. History doesnt recall how many pints later this exceptionally generous offer was made, although it cant have been TOO many, as he remembered, and took them up on it.

How it works
The race starts in Arklow, Ireland, and finished in Aberystwyth, Wales, so the course covers one of the wider bits of the Irish Sea.

Each team comprises 12 competitors, who swap in and out of the fixed-seat, coxed rowing boat, which can be either a Celtic or a Pembrokeshire longboat. The Celtic ones were a bit longer, possibly narrower, and definitely faster.

Each team is supported by the yacht, which carries the remaining 7 members not in the race boat, as well as its own crew. A rib is used to swap competitors between the yacht and the longboat.

Our team decided (largely through necessity – were quite a small club, and not all members were nutters) that theyd take me as a dedicated cox, along with 11 rowers, one of whom was a woman in her 50s, but tough as. She not only rowed as much as most of the guys, and more than some, but also made sandwiches almost continuously whilst not rowing.

We decided wed change the crew every 1.5 hours, and I would cox 3 consecutive shifts, followed by 1 off. And repeat. And repeat again. And then again.

The start.

The race itself
The race started at 4pm and ran overnight. This presented its own challenges, but the thinking is that the sea tends to be calmer at night, and there are also fewer ships about.

So, after a sunny start, the field spread out, and we found ourselves to the back of it. The whole thing was way outside my experience, although other members of the team had done some sailing. However, the crew of our support yacht, Y Marchog, were clearly very experienced, and our navigation simply involved "following" them, ideally to one side and a bit in front, so that we werent in their wash.

Which fine, until our fastest crew combination swapped in, which included a three-times Olympic oarsman, and some other blokes who were lesser mortals, but still good rowers. And we found that we were a fair chunk faster than the support yacht, struggling along a it was with 10 people on board a boat probably made for 4 at the most, laden with kit bags, and towing a rib.

Around 4am. This is probably my
favourte expedition rowing photo ever.

Now even this was bearable the first time it happened, but by the time they came back for their 2nd shift, it was dark, and the process of bringing the rib alongside and transferring people across spun our boat around, and I quite lost my grasp of WHICH of the many little lights, representing other crews and their support boats, spread round the horizon I was meant to be following (quite why I didnt have a compass in my paw, Im not sure, and you would be quite justfied in rolling your eyes in horror at this lack of basic safety, though youll remember that wed thought wed be following the yacht..). Anyway, having decided I recognised a certain grouping of lights, and we set off. About 5 minutes later, the rib came roaring back, to explain that we were heading south towards France... Looking back at this now, Im just so embarrassed.

We were unbelievably lucky with the conditions: somewhere around midnight the sea settled into that oily calmness you only rarely get, with barely a breath of wind. 

Deck the halls with boughs of holly
Somewhere around 1.30am, about 3.5 hours into my second 4.5 hour stint, the lateness of the hour, combined with the fresh air and the fact that I was just sitting there steering, all caught up with me and I nodded off. Probably only for about 10 seconds, but I was quickly woken by the shouts of one of the crew who had spotted that the boat had swung round (it was interesting that the others hadnt actually noticed) because it had to be steered almost every stroke to remain heading in the right direction.

I was just so sleepy. I managed to unwrap a sweet from my pocket, despite wearing large waterproof mittens and needing to do the aforementioned continuous steering, but this only boosted my alertness for a few minutes. So I resorted to singing christmas carols to quietly to myself, on the basis that its quite hard to fall asleep whilst singing, and these were the only songs I could remember enough words to in my addled state.

I made it through to my 2nd 1.5 hour break, and as soon I was on the yacht, crawled onto the huge pile of kitbags in the focsle, and immediately fell asleep, with my nose about 2" from the ceiling. Bliss.

Nearly there
Back in the coxing seat, the Welsh coastline soon appeared as a thin grey line on the horizon, though we still had plenty of miles to go. The final crew to swap in wasnt quite the personnel I was expecting, but those that leapt on board explained that they were the only ones left capable of doing another shift - someone had succumbed to seasickness, another was suffering from the flare-up of an injury. A third was totally exhausted. 

After a while, we realised that this particular combination were all experienced rover rowers, and so we entertained ourselves for 20 minutes by talking ourselves through the landmarks of the so-called Championship Course on the Tideway between Chiswick and Putney. It was so realistic that we could almost smell the burger van at the end, although the aroma as we finally made our way into Aberystwyth harbour was slightly different.

Not sure why we seem to be heading
for a cliff at this point?

By now, it was about 8am, and the other competitors, all from Welsh and Irish clubs, showed us the way to the sailing club bar. lacking their prowess (I am only a little cox after all) I sat down in the corner and fell asleep. A little later someone woke me and we went out onto the deck to eat some bacon sarnies, Which were great, and I went asleep in the sun.

Several of us then elected to get back to Aberaeron on the yacht, motoring gently down the coast, and chatting to the crew. The weather was delightful and I nodded off again.

I then fell asleep yet again in the holiday cottage whilst various friends and other halves cooked supper, and finally in the pub, before eventually being allowed to go to bed - bliss! As with many challenges, its the things you dont expect to be hard that often are, and my abiding memory of the Celtic Challenge was the struggle with sleep deprivation. 

Its a cracker of an event, but to do it you need to be with one of the local clubs, because this is a treacherous piece of water, requiring local, or other serious sailing knowledge and decent equipment. We were lucky, and you shouldnt rely on luck with the sea.

Isla Isabel to Mazatlan

The Honcho departed Isla Isabel in the late afternoon heading in a northerly direction toward Mazatlan on starboard tack. Almost as soon as we cleared the island the wind piped up to about 20 knots so we put a reef in the main and had a nice sail for about 40 miles. Around midnight we were about 3 miles off the beach just north of Teacapan and tacked to port.  This put us on on a course of due west and we got a taste of punching into the short, steep waves common to this area... a fairly bumpy ride. By 0100 the wind had settled down a bit and shifted so we were able to tack once again an sail a course nearly directly toward Mazatlan. Just before the moon rose at about 0330, the wind died completely and we motored the last 35 miles to the city, coming to anchor in the lee of Isla Piedra with about ten feet of water under our keel. The distance traveled from Isabel was about 90 miles. This is a well protected anchorage and we secured the boat and slept for a few hours.

Later that day we went ashore in the dinghy and walked down the beach a mile or so, looking at dozens of deserted beachfront palapa restaurants. We finally found one that looked open and wandered in. I asked why all the palapas were deserted and the waiter said this beach used to be very busy until a few weeks ago, when the cruise ships stopped calling at Mazatlan. There has apparently been enough drug cartel related violence to cause them to suspend calling at this port until they get a better handle on security here. Mexicans say its Americas fault, because if the demand for drugs in the US didnt exist, Mexico wouldnt have a drug war on its hands. Either way, the mahi mahi tacos were excellent, the service good and the Pacificos were frosty. Speaking of frosty, weve been in temperatures that ranged from the 70s to 90s day and night for the last three months. Here the highs are in the mid 70s and low last night was 51. Weve had to bundle up in fleece at night for the first time since leaving Long Beach.

The next day we went out to Isla de los Chivos and hiked to the top of the island. The views of the city and surrounding countryside were beautiful. Chivo is Spanish for kid, or young goat, and we got lots of pictures of the feral goats that live on this craggy little island.

After a couple of days in the peaceful tranquility of the anchorage, we got the anchor up and sailed around the west side of the city and took a berth in Marina Mazatlan, where well stay a couple weeks and explore the city and surrounding area.

The volcanic rocks around Isla Isabel. This one is called Isleo Mona Mayor

Looking east from the top of Isla de los Chivos toward Isla Cardones

A deeply laden purse seiner enters the harbor.

It looks like the goat is in the tree but hes not.

A chivo surveys the rocky path below.

This little guy seemed happy to pose for the camera.

Itty bitty chivo hooves

Return to La Cruz

Leaving Ixtapa and Zihuatanejo behind, our northbound course took us once again past the busy port of Lazaro Cardenas. Our approach this time was about 10 miles offshore, giving us plenty of time to spot and avoid the ship traffic around the harbor entrance. The wind was very light and we motored throughout the night, arriving at a rough little anchorage called Caleta de Campos around 0800. There is a small bay here called Bahia Bufadero.  It is wide open to the southwesterly swell and we anchored a hundred yards or so outside the surf line and slept for a few hours with the boat rocking in the large swells and the surf booming nearby. Around 1400 the Honcho sailed from Caleta de Campos with a good westerly breeze, bound for Bahia Manzanillo, 114 miles distant.

By nightfall the wind, as it usually does, fell light so the Honcho motored the rest of the way to Bahia Manzanillo. We anchored once again off Las Hadas and spent a couple of days relaxing around the pool and touring the city. Bahia Manzanillo is separated from Bahia de Santiago by the Peninsula de Santiago. Both bays are ringed with broad, beautiful sand beaches and luxury hotels, but we were more intrigued by the old city of Manzanillo and spent our time wandering around the old waterfront town, enjoying the sights around this picturesque area.

Rested and well provisioned, we left Las Hadas, bound for Bahia de Tenacatita, about 40 miles up the coast. We arrived there in the late afternoon and had time to drop the anchor and enjoy a fiery sunset from the cockpit of the Honcho. We did not go ashore here, just relaxed and enjoyed the scenery of the place. This bay is home to a pod of dolphins that seem to enjoy rubbing against the chains of the anchored boats. While the water wasnt clear enough to see them, we could feel the vibrations and see it moving around as they played with our chain. Strange sensation.

The following day we made the short hop from Tenacatita to Bahia de Chamela, anchoring in the northwest corner of the bay just off the little town of Perula. Chamela is about 70 miles down the coast from Cabo Corrientes, the southern border to Banderas Bay.  Cabo Corrientes is known for its frequently rough conditions and cruisers usually wait for predictions of light winds in the area before making the dash around that corner and into the relative safety of Banderas Bay. The winds had been strong the last few days, but with a forecast of light winds in the offing we departed from Bahia Chamela around 1800 so we could pass the cape early the following morning, when conditions were predicted to be fairly calm.

Clearing Punta Rivas, the outermost point of land that protects Bahia Chamela, we ran into a 15 knot headwind and 6 foot seas. These stayed with us all night, making for a bumpy ride up the coast. Tacking in close to shore, the Honcho made the best of it as we slowly worked our way along the rugged coastline, arriving at the cape around 0700 the following morning. Here the sea was still rougher than we had hoped, but as we rounded the cape and entered the southern reaches of Banderas Bay, conditions steadily improved. By 1000 it was calm and we were motoring across the bay with the Islas Tres Marietas and Punta de Mita on our port beam. We felt like we were returning to our friendly home waters with our arrival at La Cruz. But the bay also serves up a breeze now and then, and by the time we reached the anchorage outside the harbor the wind was over 20 knots. With our oversize ground tackle, anchoring in a stiff breeze is a cinch and within a few minutes we were snugly anchored and had time to ponder the large number of boats anchored and bobbing around in the wind before the sun set. When we left here about a month ago there werent many boats anchored here. Now I count nearly 50.

In the evening the wind died down, but the swell rolled us uncomfortably all night long and all the next day. We had planned to spend a few days in the marina anyway, so the following day we upped the anchored and took a berth in the marina, where well stay until mid-March, when weather conditions should be better for heading north into the Sea of Cortez.

Punta de Mita to Isla Isabel

We were up well before dawn on Saturday, March 26th, the day the Honcho made its final departure from Punta de Mita. We got underway just in time to see one last spectacular sunrise over the bay, before we headed north to another storied bay, Bahia Mantanchen. Sailing conditions were excellent and we made good time, getting the anchor down in Mantanchen Bay in mid afternoon. This bay is famous for its great surf and its Jejenes, otherwise known as noseeums, nonos,  or sand fleas. All of those appellations are often preceded by a rather forceful adjective because of their ability to inflict an itching, bleeding, scratching kind of misery on everyone they come in contact with. We were well prepared, with fine mesh bug screens on the hatches, DEET laced sunscreen and bug repellent, and a take-no-prisoners attitude. We passed a peaceful and bug free night and got the anchor up early to head for our next destination, Isla Isabel.

Punta de Mita Sunrise

Isla Isabel has been described as the Galapagos of Mexico because of its remoteness and isolation. Consequently it is the nesting and breeding ground for vast numbers of sea birds, particularly blue-footed boobies and the magnificent frigate birds. The island is a Mexican National Park and a World Heritage Site, so its unique flora and fauna are well protected. It was truly a spectacular place to visit.

We anchored on the east side of the island, just south of Isleo Mona Menor, about a hundred yards off the beach. Eager to explore the place, we pumped up the inflatable kayak and paddled ashore. There we were confronted by a couple of Mexican naturalists who informed us that it was illegal to land there and advised us to go around to the south side of the island and land at the fish camp that was located there. It was too far for our flimsy kayak so we went back to the boat and launched the dinghy and motored around to the spot we were supposed to land. Our entire experience there was fascinating, but instead of trying to put it all in words, Ill let the photos do most of the talking.

The Honcho at Anchor, Isleo Mona Menor in the background

Fish camp on the south side of the island, our dinghy is at left. Notice the hundreds of birds above the hill.

Booby chick on the beach. There were thousands of these babies on the beaches of Isla Isabel. Below, an adult blue footed booby

These birds will grow up to be incredible flyers and fishermen. The boobies appeared to nest mostly on the beaches and rocks, while the frigates built their nests in the trees or grassy areas inland.

Frigate nest in a tree. Notice the chick. These birds showed no fear of humans, we were literally within an arms length of this mother and chick. Below, a frigate chick stares back at the camera

Isla Isabel is an extinct volcano and therefore has a crater lake in the middle of it.  With very little impact from man, it looks wild and primitive, and beautiful in an eerie way,

The following day we got the anchor up and, punching into a 15 knot headwind, the Honcho began the long beat to Mazatlan, 85 miles distant.