Adventures in Mexico
2026
January - March
Please visit the April to June Blog for more adventures!
Monday, March 30 – Tuesday, March 31, 2026
The next couple of days were pretty tranquilo for us, as they say in español. With my back far from fighting shape, I was moving at a snail’s pace, if at all. We managed a little time at the pool and the beach, but even that proved challenging since it was Semana Santa, and the resort was bursting at the seams with vacationers.
Of course, boat life doesn’t pause for injuries. Chores still needed attention, and thankfully,, Mark stepped in to help John take Nirvana over for a pump-out while I remained rather helpless - more like a flipped turtle than a functional crew member - confined to our berth.
Despite the slower pace, there were still a few highlights. We enjoyed a lovely sunset dinner at Chili’s Pepper Restaurant (apparently, Chili’s had something to say about the name), and a relaxing dinner at La Marina Restaurant at El Cid the following night. And one of our favorite encounters came right on the beach, where we met Lorenzo, a friendly vendor who sold us a couple of beautiful sombreros and quickly became our new buddy.
Sunday, March 29, 2026
Today’s agenda was refreshingly simple - boat chores, massages, and an El Cid Marina Cruisers’ potluck.
John’s first project, however, was anything but glamorous. The capacity sensor in the forward head was malfunctioning, requiring an inspection and likely a repair. While John is exceptionally skilled at these tasks, they are undeniably smelly and unpleasant. Working quickly and efficiently, he identified the culprit - a sneaky maracuyá seed lodged in the duckbill valve, preventing it from sealing properly. Once resolved, we couldn’t help but laugh at the irony - one of our favorite treats had briefly become our worst enemy.
Meanwhile, I set about tidying up Nirvana. Just some light cleaning - wiping countertops and freshening things up. But in one quick reach while cleaning the tub, I felt a sharp pain seize my lower back. Amazing how something so minor can escalate so quickly. Advil barely took the edge off, but I held out hope that a massage might work some magic. It helped… briefly. Let’s just say my back wasn’t quite ready to cooperate.
By 5:30 pm, we rallied and made our way to the poolside Cruisers’ Potluck. A great turnout of boaters filled the space with conversation and camaraderie. We met a few new cruisers, and I did my best to stay engaged despite moving a bit more cautiously than usual. Still, it was nice to be among the cruising community, sharing stories and dishes under the evening sky.
We wrapped up early with television, pain meds, and bed. Not exactly the highlight reel of the trip, but perhaps a gentle reminder that even in paradise, real life still sneaks in now and then… sometimes in the form of a maracuyá seed and a rebellious lower back.
Saturday, March 27, 2026
Flight departures always seem to carry a dose of stress, sometimes bordering on panic—and today was no exception as Dylan began his journey home. It’s remarkable how suitcases seem to shrink on the return trip, yet Dylan was determined to make it work with just one checked bag and a backpack. With an Uber on the way, the first hiccup came in the form of a 30-minute flight delay, annoying, but manageable.
Then, after he had already left the hotel, the real twist arrived: his Phoenix-to–Santa Barbara connection was delayed by four hours. The curse of Phoenix strikes again! But in true “when life gives you lemons” fashion, Dylan pivoted like a pro—rebooking himself on a later flight that not only solved the timing issue but also landed him in business class, complete with access to the Admiral’s Club. Not a bad trade-off.
Meanwhile, life back home was moving at full speed. My mom, recovering from hip surgery, was being transferred from the Huntington Hospital Rehabilitation Center to another nearby facility for the next phase of her care. At the same time, Morgan was in the middle of his move from Santa Barbara to San Diego, a logistical puzzle with its own share of stress. With so much happening on the home front, we felt a bit helpless being so far away.
So, we shifted our focus to what we could control - our own well-being. We explored the gym at El Cid Resort and were pleasantly surprised by the large, air-conditioned facility. Given how far the resort is from the Malecón and other walkable areas, we’ve definitely noticed a drop in our daily steps, making this a welcome alternative. Afterward, we headed to the pool for a little floating, sunshine, and classic vacation pastime - people watching.
As the sun began to set, we invited Mark, whom we’ve officially dubbed the “Mayor of Mazatlán”, to join us for a dinghy cruise through Marina Mazatlán and the surrounding smaller marinas. True to form, Mark seemed to know everyone, stopping frequently to chat and catch up with fellow cruisers along the way. We stumbled upon a surprise: an old Newporter Ketch like the one John’s family sailed when he was a child.
The evening wrapped up with dinner at a delightfully quirky spot called Mr. Lionso, located out at Playa Brujas (Witches’ Beach) in the Cerritos area. The open-air restaurant greeted us with live Jimmy Buffett tunes and whimsical décor featuring cheerful witches - a nod to the beach’s folklore, where witches were once said to perform their rituals.
A prominently displayed “2x drinks” sign caught our attention - something we’ve learned usually applies only to well drinks. Not this time. Unbeknownst to us, it applied to everything. Before we knew it, our table was covered in double the drinks we had ordered! Between the festive atmosphere, the generous pours, and delicious bites - the arrachera nachos and fresh seafood—we found ourselves thoroughly “bewitched.”
It was, without question, another memorable Mazatlán evening.
Friday, March 27, 2026 – Mazatlán
This morning, more exploring was high on our “to do” list. We briefly considered booking a formal city tour but ultimately opted for our own adventure - launching the dinghy and heading out of the harbor to explore the nearby beaches and islands at our own pace.
As we exited the harbor, we were immediately reminded of Mazatlán’s notoriously rough entrance. Aggressive waves and a strong swell greeted us head-on, giving us a moment of hesitation—but only a moment. We pushed forward, bouncing our way across the bay toward Isla de Venado (Deer Island), accompanied by a handful of tourist boats making the same journey. The island, part of an ecological reserve, is known for snorkeling and diving, but today the water lacked its usual clarity and wasn’t particularly inviting. We admired it from a distance and carried on.
Next, we cruised across the bay toward Punta Valentino near Olas Altas. What appears at first glance to be a grand white seaside castle perched dramatically on the rocks is, in fact, a lively nightclub. Along the beach, colorful parasailing chutes billowed in the breeze, enticing adventurous visitors to take flight above the shoreline. After bobbing along for a while, we’d had our fill of open water for the day and turned back toward the marina—though not without one final, unexpected moment.
On our return, we spotted two heads bobbing in the middle of the channel. Dylan quickly identified them as swimmers, and we slowed to check on them. They assured us they were fine, but it was still surprising, and a bit unsettling, to see them so far from shore, surrounded by boat traffic and without any visible flotation.
The afternoon brought a change of pace as we settled in at the pool, where the true stars of the show were the resident iguanas. One by one, they emerged from the surrounding bushes—some small and bright green, others larger and more prehistoric in appearance—either to cool off near the water or to boldly scout for snacks. At one point, a waiter casually dropped a few French fries near Dylan’s lounge chair, and before he realized it, he was unknowingly shared his space (and his lunch) with a tiny green reptilian guest.
After a quick nap, we set out to enjoy Dylan’s final evening in Mazatlán. Watching Los Clavadistas, the famous cliff divers, was at the top of our list. They typically perform at sunset, but unfortunately, we missed them this time. Whether it was the tide, timing, or simply bad luck, we weren’t quite sure. Still, the sunset itself did not disappoint.
Then, adding to our entertainment value, the opposite side of the rock offered an entirely different kind of spectacle - the devil himself. Tucked into the cliffside was a small, gated cave marked with a weathered sign reading Cueva del Diablo. True to its name, a sharply dressed “devil” stood at the entrance, theatrically welcoming curious tourists into his domain. Equal parts eerie and amusing, he struck just the right balance - creepy enough to make you pause, but playful enough to leave you smiling. We also appreciated that he was an environmentally conscientious devil who picked up trash around his lair. Apparently, this cave has long been the subject of local lore, steeped in both historical accounts and folkloric tales passed down through generations - stories that add to its mysterious charm.
We continued our evening with a stroll along the Malecón, making our way to dinner at El Presidio in the Centro Histórico. The entrance is subtle and unassuming but opens into a stunning courtyard - lush with trees and greenery, softly lit, and incredibly inviting. The atmosphere was magical, and the menu offered a delicious modern take on traditional Mexican cuisine.
After dinner, we wandered over to Plaza Machado, which was noticeably more vibrant than on our first visit, alive with music, laughter, and weekend energy.
Our ride home was equally memorable, as our pulmonía driver serenaded us with a classic rock playlist, turning the trip into its own little celebration. Once back aboard Nirvana, we wasted no time, drifting off to sleep almost instantly after another full and unforgettable day.
Thursday, March 26, 2026 – Mazatlán
This morning, we were still reeling from a bit of culture shock, having traded the serene, untouched beauty of Isla Isabel for a 12-hour passage straight into the vibrant, colorful chaos of Mazatlán. It was a dramatic shift, to say the least.
We eased into the day with a leisurely brunch at the El Cid Hotel restaurant, then turned our attention to a few practical matters such as checking in with the marina office and meeting Cheyene, a local boat maintenance expert who will be helping us with a few items.
From there, we made our way to the pool, where I happily joined an aqua aerobics class while the boys chose a more relaxed approach - floating with beverages in hand. We spent some time getting our bearings around the marina and hotel grounds before hopping aboard the hotel’s water taxi, which whisked us over to the El Cid Beach Club. There, we played in the waves, enjoyed a light lunch, and were well taken care of by Raymundo. Something tells us this may become our go-to spot.
Before the sun began to dip, John and Dylan launched the dinghy, and we set off to explore the protected lagoon waterways leading toward Marina Mazatlán. The scale of it all was impressive - lined with grand homes, condos, restaurants, and golf courses. Winding through the inlets felt surprisingly familiar, reminiscent of cruising through Channel Islands Harbor back home. The evening was capped with a truly stunning sunset that painted the water in golden hues.
Feeling that Mark was no a seasoned local, we invited him to join us for dinner and hopped into one of Mazatlán’s iconic red pulmonías – this one was reminiscent of an old-fashioned fire truck with guardrails and personality. We zipped off to the Golden Zone, where we squeezed in a little shopping and endured a not-so-memorable tequila tasting before landing at Restaurante Los Panchos for dinner.
It turned out to be the perfect choice - oceanfront, lively, and delicious. With attentive and animated servers, great food, and plenty of laughter, we fully embraced Mazatlán’s infectious energy and enjoyed a memorable evening together.
Wednesday, March 25, 2026 – Isla Isabel to Mazatlán
Departure mornings are always early—especially when you accidentally set the alarm for 3:00 am instead of 4:00! By 4:45, under a canopy of stars and surrounded by glowing bioluminescence, we cautiously retrieved our anchor—which, just as John suspected, was upside down and wrapped snugly around a rock. A strong start to the day.
We quietly sailed away from our two neighbors at Isla Isabel and pointed Nirvana toward Mazatlán. The crossing was calm and kind, inviting Dylan to drop a few fishing lines in the water. Before long, he had reeled in a bonita, a skipjack, and a crevalle jack—an impressive haul of what we’ve come to call “fun fish, not food.” Along the way, a few dolphins surfaced to escort us briefly, while graceful brown-footed boobies glided alongside, cleverly using our sails as windbreaks before diving with precision to snatch their prey. By afternoon, the water turned a bit choppy and shimmered with schools of bait fish.
Our first glimpse of Mazatlán was striking—the industrial southern harbor, dotted with ships and cruise liners, and beyond it, the dramatic silhouette of the Faro de Mazatlán perched high atop Cerro de Creston. Standing some 515 feet above the sea, it’s considered one of the highest lighthouses in the world—a steadfast guardian marking the entrance to the harbor.
Mindful of a known dive zone along our route, we adjusted course to give it a wide berth. Not long after, we spotted a small panga in the distance. Then suddenly, about 200 feet off our stern, a dark shape surfaced. For a split second, it looked like a seal…until we realized it was a diver! Likely far from his boat. Our hearts paused and time slowed. And then, relief, as we passed safely by without incident. A good reminder that vigilance at sea is everything.
With sails down, we began our approach into Mazatlán’s narrow and at times surgy harbor entrance. With steady hands and a calm demeanor, helmsman Dylan guided us in like a pro, and soon we were securely docked at El Cid Marina, slip B13—clearly our lucky berth. Friendly faces appeared almost immediately, including our friend Mark from MaMaLu, who wasted no time setting the tone for our first evening ashore.
“Meet in the lobby,” he said. And just like that, we were whisked away in a pulmonía - Mazatlán’s iconic open-air taxi, equal parts transportation and amusement ride. With flashing lights, booming music, and what felt like inches between us and every passing car, our cheerful driver expertly navigated the lively streets. We had no idea where we were headed, so we simply held on, laughed, and enjoyed the ride.
Our destination: Diego’s Beach House - a perfect welcome after 12 hours on the water. We happily devoured nachos, smoked marlin tacos, shrimp birria quesadillas, and a torta, restoring both energy and spirits. From there, we cruised along the Malecón, one of the longest seaside promenades in the world, lined with colorful sculptures, vibrant crowds, and sweeping ocean views.
Next stop: Old Town, or Centro Histórico, a charming, Spanish-style district that instantly reminded us of our time in Old San Juan. Music spilled into the streets from lively bars and restaurants surrounding a beautiful plaza, where a whimsical mermaid playing a tuba seemed to embody the city’s playful spirit.
The night carried on with a rooftop stop at the Best Western Hotel, where we relaxed poolside and took in sweeping 360-degree views of Mazatlán glowing under the night sky. One final pulmonía ride delivered us safely back to El Cid Hotel/Marina and our cozy home aboard Nirvana.
We fell into bed, exhausted and grateful - another full day, another unforgettable adventure.
Tuesday, March 24, 2026 – Isla Isabel
Our day began a bit earlier than expected when, at 5 am, the winds picked up and our neighbor’s anchor dragged. He quickly re-anchored while John investigated a couple of unpleasant sounds on Nirvana. One proved simple - the handheld showerhead had come loose and was banging against the wall. The second, a persistent clicking, was more concerning. John suspected it might be related to the rudder bearings. After coffee and a closer inspection, he determined that the rudder arm hole had become slightly elongated by the pin—nothing critical, but something to repair when we return to Santa Barbara, or sooner.
Today was our long-anticipated day of island exploration. Known as the “Mexican Galápagos,” Isla Isabel is a compact 213-acre volcanic island and a designated protected sanctuary. Despite its small size, it teems with life and is home to roughly 42,000 birds, along with iguanas and an abundance of marine species.
With snorkel gear and GoPro in tow, we set out by dinghy and anchored between the two iconic rock formations known as Las Moñas, named for their resemblance to hair buns or bows. The waters surrounding Isla Isabel are protected, creating a thriving underwater ecosystem supported by rare coral reefs for this region. The island is also frequented by humpback whales and whale sharks and serves as habitat for three endangered sea turtles: Olive Ridley, Green, and Pacific Hawksbill.
Our snorkel did not disappoint. The moment we slipped into the clear, warm water, we were enveloped by a dazzling array of fish, all moving calmly through what felt like a living aquarium. Among them were Pacific crevalle jacks (the largest in the group), along with king angelfish, guineafowl puffers, razor surgeonfish, Moorish idols, and beau bummels. The highlight was a graceful green sea turtle gliding past us - a magical encounter that made this our best snorkel of the trip so far.
Back on board, our neighbor Zach from Wabi Sabi stopped by to apologize for the early morning disturbance. We assured him that such moments are simply part of cruiser life.
Next, we headed ashore for a land exploration. We dinghied to a second anchorage near a small fish camp and, as in Careyes, found the sand too soft to hold the dinghy securely, so we set an anchor onshore. Immediately, we were surrounded by Majestic frigatebirds perched in nearly every bush and tree. Remarkably, even at close range, they remained calm and largely unmoved - a testament to how undisturbed the wildlife is here.
As we wandered inland, we observed nesting mothers with white chests, fluffy white juveniles, and males proudly displaying their inflated red throat pouches. Passing through the small camp, complete with a main structure and several tents, likely used by researchers, we found the trail leading uphill.
Climbing toward the summit, sunbathing iguanas darted into the brush as we approached. Frigatebirds called out from low branches, uneasy but unwilling to yield their spots, even when we passed within just a couple of feet. At the top, we were rewarded with sweeping views of the island, including its crater, and a colony of nesting blue-footed boobies.
Unlike frigatebirds, boobies nest on the ground, which seems risky, but with few natural predators on the island, they remain surprisingly relaxed. We later learned that frigatebirds will harass boobies mid-flight, forcing them to regurgitate their catch - a rather rude dining strategy, if you ask me! Much of the terrain was coated in white guano, lending both a pungent aroma and a reminder of just how many birds call this island home. Thankfully, a steady breeze kept things tolerable.
Before returning to Nirvana, we explored the second anchorage near the fish camp and quickly understood its reputation - rocky and unforgiving. Isla Isabel is known as a place where anchors are frequently lost, and it was easy to see why.
The afternoon unfolded at a leisurely pace, and later we invited Zach and his friend Mike aboard for happy hour. Zach, just 25 years old, shared that he purchased Wabi Sabi in October - already fully immersed in the cruising lifestyle. As always, stories flowed easily among fellow cruisers. We laughed upon discovering that, like us, Zach had also fallen victim to the infamous “Oyster Uprising” following a stop in Tehuamixtle.
For dinner, Dylan treated us to savory steaks with loaded mashed potatoes - a perfect end to an unforgettable day. We turned in early, reflecting on our brief but deeply memorable time at Isla Isabel and looking ahead with excitement to our next chapter in Mazatlán.
Monday, March 23, 2026 – La Cruz to Isla Isabel
Our 7:00 am departure to Isla Isabel went off right on schedule. Jarrod popped over one last time to help with the lines and say goodbye. One of the bittersweet realities of cruising life is how quickly friendships form, and how quickly paths diverge. Such is the case with our friends on Sagata. Perhaps we’ll see them again in Tahiti… or Washington… or somewhere entirely unexpected. If this journey has taught us anything, it’s that the cruising world has a funny way of bringing people back together.
The swells from the night before had settled, leaving us with a calm, glassy sea as we idled out of the harbor and past the anchored boats. A smoky sunrise slowly revealed itself over Puerto Vallarta, casting a hazy glow across the bay. As we cleared Banderas Bay and passed Punta Mita and the Islas Marietas, a few whales surfaced nearby, offering a quiet farewell.
Spotting bait fish dancing across the surface, Dylan gave fishing a try, but luck wasn’t on his side this time. Not long after, a mobula ray, also known as a devil ray, burst dramatically from the water not once, but twice. Not to be outdone, several large green sea turtles appeared along our route. At first glance, Dylan thought they were floating sea lions with birds perched on them, until we remembered there are no sea lions here. Instead, we realized we were witnessing a familiar pairing: sea turtles accompanied by laughing gulls, an oddly charming and common sight in these waters. Dolphins also joined the day’s parade, rounding out an already lively passage.
With Isla Isabel still faint on the horizon, we suddenly spotted a long line of floats stretched across the water - a fisherman’s long line and a potential hazard for our props. We altered course to port, only to realize the line seemed endless. A quick about-face brought us toward a nearby panga, retrieving the line, and with a friendly signal from the fisherman, we confirmed a safe path across. A good reminder that cruising here keeps you on your toes.
Knowing that only six boats are permitted to anchor in our chosen area at Isla Isabel, we were delighted to arrive at 4:00 pm to find just two sailboats already settled in—Still Searching and Wabi Sabi. After a careful survey of the anchorage, we tucked in between them and dropped the hook.
First order of business: cold beverages and a refreshing dip in the perfectly warm, 81-degree water. As we settled in, we were struck by the raw beauty of this place, often called the “Mexican Galápagos.” Hundreds of birds soared overhead in effortless flight, filling the sky with constant motion. It felt wild, untouched, and entirely unique.
And just when we thought the day couldn’t deliver more, happy hour came with a grand finale: a spectacular whale show. Two humpback whales, seemingly in playful competition, breached and surfaced, then alternatively pounded their tails - a dueling display that left us in awe. It was the kind of moment you know you’ll never forget. Hungrily, we gobbled down a pasta dinner, reflected on the long but amazing day we shared, and set plans in motion for tomorrow’s adventures.
Sunday, March 22, 2026
Sunday in La Cruz is synonymous with the farmers’ market – a vibrant weekly event where hundreds of vendors from neighboring areas gather at sunrise, offering everything imaginable. Looking for organic dog bones? They have them. Marionettes, ice cream cones, holographic candles, salsa, dim sum, vegan cosmetics? Of course.
Our mission for the day was simple: ginger beer, a sunhat for Dylan, and lunch from Mixiote Machetes. A “machete” is a ginormous corn tortilla, generously loaded with meats, cheese, and just about anything your heart desires. Eating one is a delightfully messy affair, requiring comfortable seating and an ample supply of napkins - especially when those napkins are the tiny paper variety we’ve come to know so well. Dylan and John handled the challenge like pros, while I happily nibbled from their plates and sipped a refreshing aqua fresca of passionfruit, pineapple, and orange.
As a bonus, we discovered a beautiful sunset scene crafted entirely from colorful thread by a local artist named Mireya. We couldn’t resist. It will hang in our stateroom as a special memento of our time in La Cruz.
With a successful market outing behind us, we returned to Nirvana, where John assisted Steve from Athena with an electrical installation. Since this was our final day in La Cruz, we agreed that a visit to IOS Beach Club was essential. We soaked up the sun while enjoying an eclectic soundtrack - AC/DC, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Michael Jackson, Toto, and, of course, the ever-present Bee Gees, clearly a staple on every playlist in Mexico.
Our final evening was nothing short of magical. A panga carried us across the water to El Faro Restaurant, where a glowing sunset awaited our arrival. Dylan delighted in the novelty of dining at a lighthouse, and as before, our waiter, Frank, took excellent care of us.
The return trip by panga was a bit more adventurous, with 2–3 foot swells making for a bumpy ride and an uncomfortable anchorage for those offshore. Back in the calm of the marina, we settled in for the night, though we couldn’t help but wonder if those same swells would greet us again in the morning as we prepared to depart La Cruz.
As we drifted off to sleep, we reflected on our time in La Cruz—a place that had welcomed us with open arms, new friendships, familiar faces, and a rhythm of life that is both vibrant and comforting. From lively dockside gatherings to quiet mornings aboard Nirvana, it had been a chapter filled with connection, color, and community.
We feel that familiar pull of the sea once again. The lines will soon be cast off, and a new stretch of coastline awaits. Wherever our next destination may lead, La Cruz would remain a place we would always look forward to returning to - a home along the way.
Saturday, March 21, 2026
The morning was filled with final preparations for Dylan’s arrival - light cleaning, making up the bed, a quick trip into town for a bit of shopping, and tending to all the small creature comforts that make Nirvana feel like home. Fortunately, after departing Santa Barbara, Dylan’s flights and connections were smooth, and before long, Enrique, our new favorite driver, delivered him safely to Marina 3. We were reunited at last!
Having just completed a successful quarter at Cuesta College, Dylan was more than ready for spring break and thrilled to be back aboard Nirvana. No sooner had he arrived than we whisked him over to Athena (Kristy and Steve’s boat), where a lively neighborhood sundowner was already underway. Dylan enjoyed reconnecting with the Sagata crew and meeting some of our new La Cruz Marina friends.
After a bit of socializing, the three of us hopped in a cab and zipped over to Karen’s Place in Bucerías, where we had enjoyed a fabulous meal back in December. Karen greeted us warmly, and we settled in for a memorable beachside feast - El Trio: filet mignon, fish filet, and coconut shrimp. It was every bit as delicious as we remembered. We returned to Nirvana with full bellies and even fuller hearts.
Thursday & Friday, March 19–20, 2026
The next couple of days unfolded as a pleasant blend of light chores and well-earned relaxation as we prepared for Dylan’s arrival on Saturday. Errands ranged from a provisioning run to La Comer in Bucerías, a wonderfully comprehensive market with entire aisles dedicated to gluten-free and sugar-free options, to quick stops at the smaller neighborhood tiendas in La Cruz.
We also visited the Port Captain to arrange our official check-out for Monday, a necessary (and reassuring) step before the next leg of our journey.
Of course, no stay in La Cruz would be complete without a little beach time. We claimed a pair of lounge chairs at IOS Beach Club, where we lingered over a leisurely lunch with our toes in the sand and eyes on the water. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.
By Friday evening, an impromptu “Sundowner” cocktail gathering naturally came together aboard Nirvana with our friends from Sagata and Athena. Kat surprised us with a beautiful handmade Nirvana card, a thoughtful gesture and one we’ll treasure.
As if on cue, the evening came with its own soundtrack courtesy of our lively Mexican neighbors aboard the tourist boat R-9 The Rooster. Their DJ kept the music pumping at full volume, even inviting us to submit song requests, turning the marina into a floating dance party. Eventually, the marina security guard intervened and brought the festivities to a close, but not before we all had a good laugh.
We capped off Thursday night with dinner at The Treehouse, a charming family- (and dog -) run spot that delivered a truly delicious meal. Unfortunately, on Friday, a return visit to La Peska -once a favorite - proved disappointing, a reminder that even the classics can have an off night.
Wednesday, March 18, 2026
As always, in addition to plenty of fun, boat life comes with its fair share of chores. Having been away for a few weeks, our to-do list had been patiently waiting for our return. First up: refueling and pumping out the heads. Fortunately, our friend Jarrod from Sagata was available to lend a hand, always a welcome asset when maneuvering Nirvana. The fuel dock was blissfully quiet, and we completed the mission quickly and without incident. We even floated the idea that Jarrod might jump ship and join our crew… but no such luck. Thankfully, he and his crew accepted our back-up offer - Happy Hour aboard Nirvana that evening.
With a bit more scrubbing and organizing, Nirvana was soon back to her gleaming, shipshape self.
One of the most welcome changes of the day was the noticeable improvement in air quality. After days of smoky skies from the nearby fires, it was a relief to breathe easier. We learned that the military had deployed helicopters equipped with Bambi buckets, dropping water to support the firefighters battling the blazes in the hills above La Cruz. It was reassuring to see such a coordinated and effective response.
Later, we took a stroll into town to pick up a few specialty provisions, most importantly a stop at Frutería Delgado for our prized pulpo de maracuyá (passion fruit), an essential ingredient for our margaritas and, arguably, a non-negotiable provisioning item.
By 5:30 pm, our guests began to arrive, greeted by a well-prepared spread of food and drinks. Since John planned to share his family’s Tahiti video, we also invited Kristy and Steve from Athena, who, along with Sagata, are preparing for their own crossing to Tahiti next month.
The evening unfolded just as the best cruising nights do: good friends, shared stories, plenty of laughter, and that unmistakable sense of community that makes this lifestyle so special.
Tuesday, March 17, 2026 – Return to La Cruz Marina
With a 6:30 am departure from Santa Barbara Airport, we were grateful for a seamless start—an early Uber, light traffic, and a smooth check-in with our local TSA crew. With the ongoing government shutdown reducing staffing at larger airports, we had braced ourselves for delays, but thankfully, SBA delivered its usual ease.
Our journey to Puerto Vallarta ran like a well-oiled machine, with a quick stop in Phoenix before touching down in Mexico. Right on cue, our trusted driver Enrique was waiting curbside, ready to whisk us into the next phase of the day. First stop: Costco. We dove headfirst into serious provisioning mode, stocking up on all the essentials (and a few non-essentials) to prepare for the next leg of our adventure—La Cruz to Mazatlán.
As we made our way toward La Cruz, the effects of recent backcountry fires in the Puerto Vallarta area were unmistakable. A hazy veil of smoke hung in the air, softening the horizon. Even more concerning, as we entered the marina, we spotted a fresh flare-up burning uncomfortably close to town—a sobering reminder of how quickly conditions can change.
Back at the marina, we reunited with our friends aboard Sagata, unloaded our treasure trove of supplies, and took a much-needed pause to regroup. That evening, we headed into town to Iguanacaxtle Restaurant, where Elizabeth and Charlie welcomed us like friends. We savored fresh maracuyá margaritas, flavorful tamarind chicken, and a beautifully presented Mexican combination plate—each bite a reminder of why we enjoy it here. We have one question - why are Mexican napkins so small? We end up using about 20!!
Friday, February 27, 2026 - Homeward Visit
Somewhat anxiously, we packed our bags in preparation for our 2:30 pm flight. Flying is always stressful, and silently we wondered whether the recent cartel-related violence in Puerto Vallarta might complicate our drive to the airport.
Fortunately, our Uber driver was excellent. With welcome air conditioning and impressive efficiency, he whisked us to the airport in record time.
Along the way, we saw little evidence of the destruction that had dominated television coverage only days earlier. Clearly, the city and its residents had worked hard to restore a sense of normalcy. As we drove, the radio played a Mexican pop station broadcasting in English, Dido’s “I Won’t Go Down With This Ship”. I couldn’t help but imagine it as a subtle message of resilience from Puerto Vallarta itself - proof that the city would not be intimidated.
The only military presence we noticed was a tank parked in front of a housing complex, flanked by a few soldiers, along with several National Guard troops stationed outside the airport.
Inside the terminal, patience was required. Lines were long as many travelers who had missed flights earlier in the week were finally able to rebook. We grabbed a quick lunch before boarding a somewhat uncomfortable flight - exit row seats that sounded better than they actually were. Fortunately, it was a short trip.
Our next challenge awaited in Phoenix, where flight delays and cancellations are practically the soup du jour. Today was no exception. We briefly attempted the classic airport sprint—running between gates and service desks, hoping to catch an earlier flight to Santa Barbara. Eventually, we surrendered to reality, exited security, and found refuge at a comfortable airport bar where Russell, our new best-friend bartender, helped us unwind.
After nearly twelve hours of travel, Morgan arrived to usher us home. Tired but grateful, we closed another memorable chapter of our journey. And as always, there’s no place like home.
Thursday, February 26, 2026 - Final Day in La Cruz
It was a new day, and thankfully, we were feeling much better. Our priority was tackling the chores needed to prepare for our Friday departure. I focused on cleaning the interior while John set to work on boat maintenance.
Changing the oil was first on his list - something that must be done every 200 miles. As you know, John is an expert at such work. However, even experts occasionally encounter unforeseen challenges. Due to a small oversight, the oil container burst, sending a generous amount of oil into the engine room and onto John himself. From there, the situation quickly deteriorated, involving a roll of paper towels, a generous amount of Simple Green, and a few colorful words not typically found in polite conversation. Nevertheless, in true John fashion, he persevered and completed the job successfully.
Still feeling a bit worn down from our recent digestive issues, we took an afternoon nap before heading into town for one final dinner. We chose Masala, an upscale restaurant with great reviews that we had not yet tried. After days of bland recovery food, we were excited to see menu items we hadn’t enjoyed in quite some time - duck, pork ribs, and steak.
Despite the heat (we have yet to find a single restaurant in town with air conditioning), the meal was delightful. The service was exceptional, the craft cocktails delicious, and the food outstanding. Our meal was accompanied by a talented violin soloist who serenaded diners.
The only minor critique came when we first arrived. Soft jazz played in the background, but as I listened more closely, I realized it was… Christmas music. Chuckling, we wondered whether the staff realized their playlist had wandered two months past the holidays.
Wednesday, February 25, 2026 – La Cruz Recovery Day
Today unfolded at a very slow pace as we continued recovering from what will forever be remembered as Oyster Fiasco 2026. Reconfirming - lesson learned.
We rested. We hydrated. We rested some more. Our primary accomplishment of the morning was successfully “pumping fluids,” as they say, and attempting to restore some level of normalcy to our depleted systems.
By midday, hunger cautiously tapped at the door. Feeling marginally human, we decided to venture into town for the first time since returning to port in search of something light and safe for lunch at La Parota Grill — though in hindsight, we were probably overly ambitious. The walk alone felt like a major expedition. What normally would have been an easy stroll was surprisingly exhausting, and our appetites proved far smaller than our intentions.
We managed to pick up our laundry and some much-needed medication before retreating back to the safety of Nirvana, where life-horizontal once again became the plan.
By evening, I gathered what little provisions remained onboard and made a humble pot of chicken soup. It wasn’t gourmet, but it was exactly what we needed - simple, warm, and nurturing.
Some days underway are marked by dolphins, dramatic cliffs, or colorful villages. Others are defined by something as simple as rest and soup.
Tuesday, February 24, 2026 - La Cruz
Waking at 4 am is never pleasant - especially when it’s brought on by pain and fever. My stomach was in knots, so I reached for the Pepto-Bismol. Within the hour, my body began a full-scale purge, and I was profoundly grateful that boat sinks and toilets are mercifully close together.
Since we had eaten on board for the past couple of days, I initially feared the pasta sauce had spoiled. A bit of research suggested a more likely culprit: the delicious oyster I had enjoyed earlier. Apparently, oyster-related food poisoning is a virus and can take longer to present itself.
The next fourteen hours were miserable, and I was canary in the coal mine. By 4 pm, John joined the digestive uprising. And so we found ourselves sequestered on Nirvana—not because of civil unrest, but because we were physically incapacitated.
Aboard Nirvana, our own private “uprising” unfolded, less dramatic but equally humbling. Whether civil unrest or an unruly oyster, both were reminders of how quickly circumstances can shift and how little control we truly possess. Sometimes resilience looks heroic, like neighbors extinguishing a fire. Other times it looks like simply riding out the swell—or the stomachache, until calm returns. Lesson learned: stay away from the oysters… even the delicious ones.
Monday, February 23, 2026 – Ipala to La Cruz Marina
At 6:30 am we awoke and prepared for our six-hour journey back to La Cruz Marina. There was some uncertainty about whether we would even be allowed into the marina, but after perusing various updates and social media posts, we decided to proceed as planned.
A couple of sleepy dolphins lazily surfaced beside us, then disappeared beneath the glassy water as if bidding us a quiet farewell. Today’s swell was far kinder than yesterday’s, with smaller wind waves and a much more comfortable motion. As usual, Nirvana diligently chugged along at top speed, rounding Point Corrientes like a champ.
Soon, messages began pouring in from friends who had seen the news about Mexico and were worried about where we were and how we were faring. We did our best to reassure them that we were safe. Truthfully, we had been well removed from the action—but we were also unsure what life would look like upon our return to La Cruz Harbor, just an hour from the chaos in Puerto Vallarta.
Gradually, clearer information began to surface. Friends already in La Cruz sent live updates, helping separate fact from the dramatic amplification that often accompanies high-profile events. We learned the harbor was open and were able to reach the marina office directly. Then we spoke with Aaron, our trusted boat cleaner and all-around “go-to” guy, who promised to meet us upon arrival. That simple conversation brought a wave of calm. Stores and restaurants were reopening with limited hours, and public transportation was beginning to resume. As we entered the harbor, we felt confident that we were safe—and indeed, we were.
Once settled in our slip, we caught up with our friends Kat, Jarrod, Bruce, and Lara aboard Sagata. Their experience with the uprising was dramatically different from ours. They had left their boat and were staying in a VRBO in Puerto Vallarta, witnessing events firsthand.
On Sunday afternoon, loud noises erupted in the street below their third-story apartment. Looking down, they saw a white car stopped in the middle of the road and a group of young men with face coverings gathered in front of an OXXO convenience store. The men moved in and out of the store and, moments later, flames erupted. Soon the white car was set ablaze as well. The group cheered, then quickly dispersed. The store occupied the ground level of a large complex that housed both businesses and residences.
Once the men were gone, our friends and several neighbors sprang into action, grabbing fire extinguishers and working together to put out the flames. It was terrifying, but also empowering to feel they had made a difference. From what they learned, the cartel had targeted certain businesses that refuse to pay kickbacks—OXXO stores, pharmacies, gas stations—aiming to disrupt commerce rather than harm civilians.
Still, the ripple effects were significant. Like many others, they were effectively sequestered in their apartment without sufficient food or drinking water. Kat boiled water while they rationed snacks. With public transportation halted—twenty buses reportedly burned—they struggled to find a way back to La Cruz and finally secured a taxi. The destruction they witnessed and documented was sobering.
Exhausted from both the passage and the emotional weight of the day’s stories, we made a simple pasta dinner, watched a show, and turned in early—unaware that our next challenge was already brewing.
Sunday, February 22, 2026 – Ipala / Tehuamixtle
Sometimes good night’s sleep can be elusive when you live on a boat. The locals ashore were celebrating well into the evening with loud music pulsing across the bay, engines revving, though by Mexican standards, midnight wasn’t terribly late. When the music finally faded, a barking dog dutifully took over the night shift. Sometime later, a heavy-breathing dolphin circled Nirvana, clearly on the hunt for a midnight snack, its exhale startling in the still darkness. And just when quiet seemed possible, a rooster seized the microphone. It was, in short, a night spent more awake than asleep.
Nevertheless, the 6:00 a.m. alarm rang on cue, summoning us for the next leg of our journey - a four-hour passage north to Ipala (Tehuamixtle). Even before sunrise, young children squealed with delight on the beach, greeting the new day before the sun herself had risen.
We departed the harbor beneath a glorious sunrise, only to be met once again by steep, choppy seas, the familiar welcome mat often nicknamed the “Baja Bash.” Nirvana pushed steadily onward. Along the way we were rewarded with a few turtle sightings, always a treasured moment on passage. Our gourmet “brunch” consisted of popcorn, beef jerky, and Gatorade — cruiser cuisine at its finest.
Meanwhile, sobering news reached us offshore. Reports confirmed that Nemesio “El Mencho” Oseguera, a major cartel leader, had been killed in a government operation- a historic and volatile event. Retaliation followed swiftly, with uprisings reported in several cities, including our homeport of Puerto Vallarta. Roads were blocked, vehicles set ablaze, and businesses, including banks and pharmacies, were burned. Authorities ordered residents to shelter in place.
By 1:30 p.m. we were safely tucked into tiny Tehuamixle, at first the only cruising boat anchored in the quiet cove. The stillness was striking. Pangas sat tied motionless to their moorings. Palapa restaurants were sparsely occupied. Beach umbrellas remained folded. Only a handful of people wandered the sand. Clearly, this was not “business as usual.” Yet miles removed from the unrest, we felt calm and secure. Before long, five other cruisers joined us in the anchorage, a comforting sight.
Feeling safe, we lowered the paddleboards and headed ashore to explore. At Cande’s, the main beachside palapa, only one group of men occupied a table. When I asked in Spanish if they were serving food, the waitress explained they were offering only ceviche and beer due to the situation in Puerto Vallarta. Gratefully, we accepted the limited but heartfelt hospitality.
From snippets of conversation, it was clear the manager and guests were concerned. One, Enrique, struck up a conversation with us. He had brought a group of airline pilots from Guadalajara on a bicycling tour, riding fifty miles a day, and they had been scheduled to return to Puerto Vallarta. Instead, the unrest forced them to remain overnight in Tehuamixtle.
We enjoyed chatting with him, savored a couple of enormous fresh oysters, then wandered through the tiny neighborhood before cooling off with a swim. The water here felt noticeably cooler than at other beaches we’ve visited — refreshing and invigorating.
Back aboard Nirvana, John was less than thrilled to discover two unexpected maintenance issues: a leaky toilet and a balky air-conditioning unit. Fortunately, thanks to his ever-reliable engineering skills, both were swiftly resolved. Life afloat rarely pauses for world events.
Amid rumors that Marina La Cruz was closed, we debated our options. Ultimately, steady and determined, we agreed to proceed back to port as originally scheduled in the morning.
Even on days touched by uncertainty, the rhythm of the sea continues — sunrise, swell, salt air, and the quiet resilience of those who travel by water.
Saturday, February 21, 2026 – Bahía Chamela – Punta Pérula
Departing at 9:00 a.m., we took one last lingering glance at beautiful Careyes, set the sails, and began our northbound journey. As we slipped past the dramatic cliffs dotted with colorful villas, a dolphin leapt high above the water as if to bid us arrivederci from that mystical Mexi-Italian enclave. It felt like the perfect send-off.
The run up to Chamela delivered a few healthy swells, but Nirvana charged confidently through them, steady and sure, delivering us safely into Bahía Chamela by 1:00 p.m. After dropping the hook and taking a moment to exhale, we tossed the paddleboards into the water and made our way toward the beach at Punta Pérula.
Being Saturday, the shoreline was alive with energy. Vendors meandered between palapas, local families claimed tables in the shade, and a handful of tourists joined the scene while panga drivers zipped guests out for island tours. Remembering the delicious meal from our last visit, we returned to Las Güeras where we savored a warm shrimp cocktail (surprisingly and wonderfully—delicious) and a flavorful pescado relleno that did not disappoint. I also sipped on one of the largest beverages ever, though I have no idea what it was!
Lunch was followed by a long stroll down the long sandy beach and a refreshing swim in the surf. Later, perched on our paddleboards just offshore, we settled in for some of the best entertainment of all—people watching. Families gathered under the palapas, laughing and chatting while children darted in and out of the waves, often returning with handfuls of sand to share—or mischievously toss. In the shallows, locals of all ages rubbed sand on their arms and legs before launching into playful sand battles, their laughter and squeals echoing above the rhythm of the surf.
As if the scene needed a soundtrack, a mariachi group began performing for a family celebration at one of the palapas. At one point, the grandmother rose proudly to her feet and took the lead as singer, her voice carrying across the beach while her family beamed with delight. It was a moment so full of life and joy that we couldn’t help but smile.
With sandy feet, sun-kissed skin, and grateful hearts, we paddled back to Nirvana. The evening concluded simply—sloppy joes in the cockpit, a gentle breeze through the anchorage, and the peaceful promise of a good night’s sleep in beautiful Bahía Chamela.
Friday, February 20, 2026 - Careyes
Expressing my strong desire to see La Copa del Sol up close and personal, I persuaded John, somewhat reluctantly, to lower the dinghy and take me across the bay toward the dramatic cliffs that cradle this peculiar yet striking sculpture.
The ride was anything but smooth. Swells rolled in from the open Pacific, wind-chopped waves slapped against the hull, and I gripped the rail in a full white-knuckle embrace. It was a wet, bouncy fifteen-minute crossing, but we forged ahead.
And there she was. Perched boldly above the sea, La Copa del Sol is both unusual and undeniably magnificent - a tribute to the audacious vision of Careyes’ founder, Gian Franco Brignone. The enormous cup seems to hover between land and sky, as if waiting to collect the last golden drops of sunset. We filmed and photographed our triumphant arrival (documentation being essential after such a passage!), then wasted no time racing back toward the calmer waters where Nirvana waited patiently moored.
Our next mission was far more tranquil: an afternoon at Playa Rosa Beach Club. Arriving by paddleboard just before lunch, we rented two inviting lounge chairs and an umbrella, staking out our little corner of paradise.
Before ordering anything, we slipped on our snorkeling gear and swam out to explore. The visibility in Careyes wasn’t perfect, but compared to several recent dives, it felt wonderfully clear. Seeing such a variety of fish was entertaining, and the underwater scene was surprisingly lively. No sea turtles, however.
The afternoon drifted by lazily—swimming, lounging, and people-watching. The beach was quieter than expected because of a local polo match. Apparently, there’s a nearby polo field and the matches are a major social event. Careyes seems to blend barefoot beach life with unexpected elegance.
Later, we returned to Nirvana and set off again on our paddleboards, circling the bay and gliding along the stretch of beach that was once home to Club Med. In the 1970s, hoping to broaden Careyes’ international appeal, Brignone partnered with Gérard Blitz, founder of Club Med, to establish a village here. Though the resort closed in the 1980s due to economic shifts and changing tourism trends, the property, now privately owned, remains beautifully maintained and is used for exclusive conferences and events. It feels like a relic of glamorous days past… a bit of a shame it isn’t open to wandering travelers.
Dinner back aboard was, shall we say, creative. Our provisions are dwindling, so I am proudly employing every last ingredient in imaginative combinations. Some culinary experiments are more successful than others!
As twilight settled, we noticed we were the only inhabited boat in the bay. Pangas bobbed gently at their moorings, each adorned with lifejackets hung to deter birds—empty but oddly lifelike, as if the crews were dancing aboard. The scene was peaceful, beautiful… and slightly eerie. At sunset, a lone catamaran entered the harbor and picked up a mooring. Company for the night.
Thursday, February 19, 2026 – Careyes
By 8:30 am we departed the tranquil bay of Tenacatita, carefully passing the large, unmarked rock that stands guard in the middle of the harbor entrance. Beyond it, steep swells reminded us that northbound passages can demand respect. Thankfully, today’s 2 hour and 45-minute journey to Careyes was manageable - just enough motion to keep us alert but not enough to dampen spirits.
As we neared our destination, the coastline began to transform. Perched prominently on the point stood La Copa del Sol, the enormous cup sculpture that completed the vision of Careyes’ founder, Gian Franco Brignone. In 1968, an Italian banker and adventurer gazed upon this rugged stretch of Pacific coastline and imagined something extraordinary — a blend of Mediterranean elegance, Mexican craftsmanship, bold color, and environmental respect. At first sight of this vibrant, whimsical town, it is clear that his dream was not only realized but fully embraced.
A playful dolphin welcomed us, popping up beside the boat before launching himself into the air in a jubilant display, as if announcing our arrival. The name careyes means turtle shell in Spanish, and four species of sea turtles nest on these beaches. It felt fitting that wildlife greeted us first.
Working with a local contact known as “Captain Crunchie” (a referral from friends Steve and Lori Ash), we hoped to secure one of the few coveted moorings in the tiny anchorage. After briefly assisting a large catamaran, two men in a dinghy approached to help. Mooring is technically easier than anchoring, but when you are relying on unfamiliar hands, it can still raise the heart rate. Lines were tossed, instructions exchanged, engines nudged in and out of gear, and then, at last, we were secure. A deep exhale. Lunch never tastes better than after a successful arrival.
Our next mission was to reach Playa Rosas Beach Club. Landing the dinghy proved humbling- the sand here is impossibly soft, swallowing our wheels and making the landing impossible for the two of us. Back to Nirvana we went, preparing to swap the dinghy for paddleboards. Captain Crunchie then offered a creative solution: tie the dinghy to an offshore submerged line and swim in. Wet? Yes. Functional? Also yes.
Visiting the beach bar, we made our dinner reservation, then wandered the enchanting staircases of the colorful hillside casitas- part of El Careyes Club & Residences. From above, we admired the infinity pools and sweeping architecture of the neighboring resort, appearing quiet and underutilized against the dramatic cliffs. The entire landscape feels like a Mediterranean village dropped into tropical Mexico — bougainvillea, domes, staircases, and impossible shades of pink and orange.
By late afternoon we prepared for our 7 pm dinner reservation. The water taxi quoted us 800 pesos- a steep price when you already own your own transportation. So naturally, we devised a plan. John would idle close to shore and drop me in shallow water. I would secure my bag on dry sand, return for the anchor, set it, then he would tie off to the bow line and swim in. Simple.
Once I was dressed and hair and makeup were complete (not my usual routine these days), we admired the spectacular sunset and executed our strategy. Everything went smoothly — until it didn’t.
I stepped out confidently… and immediately sank. The sand swallowed my feet, I lost balance, and within seconds I was sitting squarely in the surf, clutching my drenched bag. Pride wounded more than anything as I scrambled back into the dinghy, soaked but unharmed. A young couple on the beach had a front-row seat to the entire production. If they were contemplating sailboat ownership, we may have just saved them a considerable investment.
Back aboard Nirvana, we regrouped. Wet clothes hung to dry, leftovers were reheated, and we watched soft twinkling red lights (for turtles) onshore, and a bonfire lit for the sweetheart’s dinner. From our floating front-row seat, we enjoyed the scene just the same.
Many would call this a vacation. I prefer to call it an adventure.
Wednesday, February 18, 2026 – Farewell to Tenacatita
Today was our final day in Tenacatita, and we intentionally made it a lazy one. After a few days of exploring, socializing, and bouncing across choppy dinghy rides, it felt right to slow the pace. We took care of a few lingering “online chores” and began mapping out our next destination — Los Careyres — studying charts, weather, and distances while savoring our final morning in the bay.
By late morning we launched the dinghy and headed ashore for one last walk along the sweeping curve of the beach. The tide was low, leaving behind a wide expanse of firm sand perfect for strolling. We admired the many birds that call this place home — comical beach turkey vultures strutting with misplaced confidence, and elegant ospreys soaring overhead, scanning the shallows with laser focus. Pelicans skimmed the surface in tight formation, while frigatebirds traced lazy circles high above.
Later in the afternoon we returned to shore to observe the daily cruiser bocce ball tournament. After a few minutes, we realized bocce is decidedly more fun to play than to watch, so we wandered instead toward the mangrove river. We struck up a chat with a friendly group of Canadians and a couple visiting from Guadalajara. As always, there was genuine curiosity when we mentioned that we had come all the way from California — by boat. That detail never seems to lose its magic.
As the sun began its slow descent, we returned to Nirvana and invited Jacques to join us for dinner. Sharing more stories, surrounded by the gentle rocking of the anchorage and the golden light of evening, felt like the perfect way to close our chapter in magnificent Tenacatita.
Tuesday, February 17, 2026 – Tenacatita and Tenacatita Beach
We awoke to another sunny, glorious morning in Tenacatita, feeling especially grateful knowing a storm was raging back home. The contrast made the stillness of our anchorage feel even more precious.
We lowered the paddleboards and set off to explore the cove. As on our previous visit, the water carried a soft green hue from a plankton bloom, blurring visibility but giving the bay an almost jade-like glow. John spotted a large barracuda patrolling the shallows, while I caught sight of a sleek jack trevally darting past. Today there are 31 boats in the anchorage, and we noticed a surprising number of young families aboard — at least six boats with children scattered among the fleet, their chatter occasionally carrying across the water and on the radio.
As we paddled back to Nirvana, our friend Jacques aboard Jacque Bateau called out with an invitation to dinner - our very first dinner invitation from fellow cruisers since beginning this journey in October. It felt like a milestone in our cruising life.
By noon, we were in the dinghy, heading toward Tenacatita Beach for some fun in the sun. With only the two of us aboard, our 60 hp engine propelled us swiftly around the jagged coastal rocks and across the bay, though the ride was decidedly choppy. We hauled the dinghy onto the sand and made our way down the beach to Don Alejandro, the palapa restaurant we had visited before. Unfortunately, many of the businesses were closed - including this destination.
A lively group gathered at another beachfront palapa, so we joined the scene. The menus along this stretch tend to be similar, so we ordered the usual fare. Our server explained that many locals were celebrating a holiday, “La Fiesta del Toro,” and vendors had been closed since Friday. It gave the beach a slightly quieter, more relaxed feel. At one point, a cluster of local children excitedly pointed toward a stingray gliding beneath the surface, creating a ripple of squeals and fascination.
We swam in the warm water and chatted with a friendly group of Canadians who had driven over from their rental home in La Manzanilla. They shared that before August 2010, this area was more developed with hotels and more elaborate restaurants. There was a land dispute between the longtime local residents and a development company that prompted an early morning raid led by soldiers. The residents (whom they referred to as squatters) were violently forced to leave – without their belongings. Homes and businesses were razed, and the area was closed off by guards, not be reopened until 2013. Now there are only a few simple palapa restaurants and strolling vendors. It certainly feels like no one won that battle.
As evening approached and we motored toward Jacques’ boat, the scent of an exotic home-cooked meal drifted across the water. Jacques, who is 80 years young, had prepared a remarkable chicken dish from a recipe his mother made during his childhood in Morocco. His story is as layered as his cooking — a Finnish father, a French mother, five children raised in Morocco. Now, when he is not sailing the seas, he resides in a castle-like home in the Hollywood Hills — another unexpected chapter in an already fascinating life.
Our evening unfolded with delicious food, French music playing in the background, and captivating stories that stretched well into the night. We were also amused to learn that each day at 6 pm, here in Tenacatita, cruisers blow conch shells – much like the 5 o’clock horn blasts in Catalina. Jacques impressed us by joining in the ceremony, blowing an antique ship’s horn that belonged to his grandfather. The evening was one of those magical cruising moments - unexpected, intimate, and rich with connection - the kind that reminds us why we chose this life aboard Nirvana.
Monday, February 16, 2026 – Barra de Navidad to Tenacatita
As is customary for boaters in Mexico, departure day required a bit of official choreography. Before we could slip away, we needed to check out of the marina, settle our account, and present ourselves — paperwork in hand — to the Port Master. We had been forewarned that the Port Captain in Barra could be rather surly, so we entered the office with a touch of apprehension.
Fortunately, preparation proved to be our ally. With documents neatly organized and John respectfully attired in his button-down shirt (a subtle nod to maritime diplomacy), the entire process unfolded with surprising ease. What we had braced for as an ordeal became a simple exchange of stamps and signatures. We exhaled.
On the water taxi ride back to Nirvana, it suddenly occurred to us that this would be our final taxi trip in Barra de Navidad. A small moment, but one that carried weight. By 11:00 a.m., we bid our boat neighbors farewell, dropped the dock lines, and eased quietly out of the tranquil harbor that had been home for the past week.
At the harbor entrance, we passed our friends Jim and Theresa aboard Luna, arriving just as we were departing. Once again, we felt like ships passing in the night, trading places in the rhythm of the cruising life.
The passage to Tenacatita was effortless — just under two hours across calm seas. Soon enough we were anchored, lunch in hand, savoring the restored spaciousness that comes with life on the hook. Our week in the marina had been lively and social, but the steady hum of harbor activity and the closeness of neighboring boats had begun to feel a bit confining.
Here, the bay stretched out like a quiet lake. By evening, the anchorage settled into stillness, and above us the sky unfurled in a brilliant canopy of stars. At 6:00 a.m., they were still dancing - a reminder that some of the best luxuries are simple.
Sunday, February 15, 2026 – Barra de Navidad – Secret Beach & Final Night
On our final full day in Barra, we were determined to find the elusive “Secret Beach.” Armed with detailed directions from our boat neighbor, we embarked on a 45-minute walk past the golf course and down toward Koko Beach, a wide, dramatic stretch of black and white sand.
From there, we climbed a rugged staircase carved into the hillside. At the top, the view opened to reveal Secret Beach - wild, untamed, and spectacular. For a while, we had it entirely to ourselves. We wandered the shoreline, exploring the sand and rocks while waves crashed dramatically against the coast. I was especially enchanted by the tiny crabs that scurried frantically up and down the beach, diving into holes and fiercely evicting one another in territorial disputes. Nature’s version of beachfront real estate drama.
Eventually a fisherman and a few other beachgoers arrived, so we began the journey back toward the road. As we passed a parked golf cart, a maintenance worker called out and asked if we could help drive it back to the clubhouse. We jumped at the chance - and had an absolute ball cruising through the manicured greens to the impressive clubhouse. Not only was it fun, it also shaved quite a bit off our walk home.
Hot and thirsty, we rewarded ourselves with a relaxing lunch at La Colimilla before returning to the pool for one final dip. Later, we wandered into town to watch the sunset and attended a spirited fiesta presented by the local schoolchildren - colorful, lively, and full of joy.
Our final dinner in Barra was perfect: oceanfront pork tacos and arrachera at El Corazón Contento. As the evening settled in, it felt like the ideal farewell - flavorful, festive, and framed by the sound of the sea.
Saturday, February 14, 2026 – Valentine’s Day ❤️
Our day began with the morning Cruiser’s Net on the radio, where we learned that Saint Valentine is the patron saint of lovers and travelers, quite appropriate for our celebration aboard Nirvana.
We set out for a walk along the backroads behind the hotel and into Culebra, Colima. As usual, the heat was intense, so we strategically hugged the shady side of the street, entertaining ourselves by observing the quiet neighborhood. The paved roads here are remarkably grand — part of the original hotel development in the 1980s. Yet despite their ambitious design, no homes were ever built. The result? Beautiful roads that lead nowhere — except to the delight of wandering foot explorers like us.
Eventually we landed at Fortino’s, a bayside palapa restaurant known for sushi and other non-traditional fare. Though they hadn’t officially opened, they welcomed us in as they were finishing their Valentine’s Day decorations — a festive balloon arch and tables draped in bright red cloths. As their only patrons, we enjoyed an intimate sushi lunch served by Omar, serenaded by a soundtrack of Maná. It was such an unexpected and delightful way to begin our celebration.
The afternoon unfolded as most do — poolside lounging with fellow cruisers. Today, however, the pool buzzed with new hotel guests, offering excellent people-watching opportunities. After a bit of sprucing up, we hailed a water taxi for dinner at Isadora’s.
Our familiar waiter, Julissa (yes, a guy!), greeted us enthusiastically and escorted us to a prime bayfront table reserved for “John David.” We uncorked a bottle of Daou Extra Reserve that I had brought from the very beginning of our voyage, saving it for a special occasion. Paired with a sumptuous surf-and-turf dinner (and mashed potatoes- what a luxury) it felt perfectly indulgent. Dessert arrived in the form of flan and chocolate pie, along with a long stem rose and small handmade gifts for each of us. It was thoughtful and sweet - a meal made even richer by the care behind it.
After dinner we strolled through town, curious to see if any musicians were performing. Twice, older women noticed my rose and quipped sarcastically, “Oh, I guess it’s Valentine’s Day.” You know what they say — the haters gonna hate.
We ended the evening at the Grand Hotel bar, where Aleta, a gentle and gracious waitress from the pool, welcomed us warmly. Grateful for her kindness, I gifted my rose to her - a small gesture to pass the love along and a fitting close to a beautiful day of celebration.
Friday, February 13, 2026 – Owner’s Mansion and Melaque
The morning began with yet another adventure -a quest to find the elusive “Secret Beach.” Armed with little more than curiosity and vague directions, we marched confidently through the lobby of the Grand Isla Navidad Golf & Spa Resort and followed a quiet road that curved along the hillside.
From our elevated perch, we could see the massive mansion once frequented by the hotel’s former owner, Antonio Leaño Álvarez del Castillo. Just as we approached the guard shack, a speedy coati dashed across the road, tail high, vanishing into the brush. To our surprise, the guard warmly invited us to pass through the property to reach our destination. It was an unexpected gift, granting us a close-up look at what must once have been an extraordinary estate.
The grounds were still impressive: a grand pool and pool house, tennis courts, a beach bar, fountains and waterfalls and ponds (no longer working), and lush tropical gardens framing the stately mansion. Yet the grandeur felt suspended in time. Since Señor Castillo’s death, the residence has sat unoccupied, and rumor has it that bats now claim the interior. Even so, standing there, it wasn’t hard to imagine the lavish parties and celebrations that must have unfolded when “El Patrón” was alive and presiding.
A beautifully groomed path, dotted with vibrant flowers, led us to a large cross and a Marian grotto overlooking the harbor- a welcoming symbol for nautical travelers entering the bay. It seemed the perfect setting for special Masses or intimate weddings. Stone steps descended to a secluded, rugged beach where waves crashed relentlessly against the rocky shoreline. It certainly felt “secret,” though we later learned it was not the true “Secret Beach,” which simply means another adventure awaits.
Our next mission was far less romantic but equally necessary. We boarded a water taxi, transferred to a land taxi, and headed fifteen minutes north to Melaque to visit the bank and hunt for specialty provisions.
Determined to explore while accomplishing our errands, we began near the far end of town by the malecón. At Tito’s Place, we found a lively group of expats enjoying drinks and fiercely competing in a cornhole tournament. It made for entertaining lunchtime theater, though we could have done without the persistent flies and the steady parade of beach vendors.
Despite the heat, we continued our walk, crossing a bridge over a river known to harbor caimans and passing a campground before strolling along the well-constructed malecón. Like Bahía de Chamela, the waterfront promenade here feels somewhat like an afterthought - pleasant but not the bustling heart of town as in Puerto Vallarta or La Paz.
On our return, we stopped at a public restroom where an imposing guard, machine gun slung across his chest, controlled entry. Moments later, he casually scrolled through photos on his phone to show us caimans emerging from the nearby river. Mexico so often presents this striking dichotomy - beauty and edge, hospitality and intensity, all interwoven.
The banking errand turned into a small saga, requiring visits to three different ATMs before we successfully withdrew pesos. The machines can be temperamental, especially for foreigners, and patience is essential. Later we learned that there was an ATM in the Grand Hotel – ugh! With cash finally secured, we made our way to The Hawaiian, a small boutique market where we found treasured gluten-free items.
Melaque is more developed and industrial than Barra de Navidad, making it feel busier and somewhat chaotic, and lacking the charm and tranquility of some of the smaller towns we’ve visited. A sizable Canadian community winters here, understandably trading snow and ice for sunshine and palm trees. After rewarding ourselves with ice cream cones and a quick stroll through the plaza, we were more than ready to return to the peaceful marina in Barra.
The evening brought steady winds, so we opted for dinner at the Grand Hotel, enjoying an Asian buffet followed by live music in the bar. Sergio, our ever-attentive bartender, had his hands full as several larger groups checked in for the weekend.
Another full day — part exploration, part errand-running, and entirely rich with contrast.
Thursday, February 12, 2026 – Barra de Navidad
Another memorable day began with our intimate little water aerobics class of two. The pool was calm and for a moment it felt like we had the whole place to ourselves. There is something wonderfully satisfying about starting the day moving in the water — equal parts exercise and therapy.
We headed into town for the weekly Farmer’s Market. It’s far less polished than the sprawling boutique market in La Cruz, but in a town with so few stores, it serves as a lively and essential hub. Beneath rows of sun-warmed plastic tents, vendors displayed colorful pyramids of fruits and vegetables alongside candy, pickles, coffee beans, nuts, traditional Mexican clothing and handmade gift items. Mixed in were unexpected finds such as homewares, sporty tops, casual dresses, beach towels - the kind of practical goods you might stumble across at Target back home.
Needing to replenish Nirvana’s fresh provisions, we carefully selected a wide assortment of produce. The heat trapped under the tents made it difficult to concentrate, and decisions that should have been simple suddenly felt monumental. Still, mission accomplished, we gratefully escaped the swelter and ducked into Pancho’s, a beloved beachside spot. A steady ocean breeze, an icy cold beer, and a perfectly seasoned shrimp cocktail worked wonders in restoring both energy and perspective.
The afternoon called for something slower. We returned for a well-earned nap followed by quiet poolside relaxation — the kind of unstructured time that makes cruising life so sweet.
This evening, we gave ourselves a break from Mexican cuisine and dined at Isadora’s. The vibrant beet salad and comforting chicken eggplant parmesan were a welcome change of pace — familiar flavors in a foreign setting, rounding out another full and satisfying day.
Wednesday, February 11, 2026 – Barra de Navidad
Wendy (No Worries) and I met at the pool this morning for aqua class. This pool is significantly larger than the one in La Cruz Marina, which made it much easier to move, stretch, and fully execute the routine. There’s something about starting the day in the water that feels both energizing and grounding.
After class, John and I tackled a few odds and ends aboard Nirvana, then explored Culebra Colina, the neighborhood surrounding the marina. The heat was intense, and the streets were steep and winding, definitely a workout in themselves, but we pressed on. Fellow cruisers had recommended several local spots, so we set out to investigate The View, La Colimilla, and Mary’s. We stopped at Mary’s for a much-needed cool beverage before continuing our trek.
On our way back to Nirvana, curiosity got the better of us, and we detoured to search for the elusive “secret pool” tucked near the Presidential Suite area. After navigating countless staircases and wandering through quiet corridors, we finally discovered it — a beautiful, private pool framed by a handful of large suites and a small lounge bar. The area was completely empty, giving it an almost hidden sanctuary feel. We lingered for a bit, soaking in the stillness and admiring the view.
From there, we continued exploring other corners of the hotel, including Antonio’s Restaurant, before eventually settling in at the main pool for a bit of afternoon relaxation.
We ended the day with dinner beachside at Sea Master, watching a spectacular sunset melt into the horizon, the kind of fiery sky that makes you pause just to take it all in.
Another full and beautiful day.
Tuesday, February 10, 2026 – Barra de Navidad
Morning chores topped the agenda today. We hired boat cleaners to give Nirvana some well-deserved attention, dropped off a load of laundry, and then set off to check in with the Harbor Master. The office, surprisingly, was not located in the marina but tucked into a nearby residential neighborhood, which made for a longer, and much hotter, walk than expected. Thankfully, the check-in process itself was simple and efficient.
With formalities out of the way, we rewarded ourselves with a leisurely lunch at the bayside restaurant, Arenas del Mar. We indulged in a copious plate of camarón ceviche and fresh sashimi - both delicious and beautifully presented. The only drawback was the soundtrack: a rotating playlist of about five rather sappy songs that seemed determined to replay on repeat!
The afternoon was reserved for pool time with Wendy and Mike (No Worries). We embraced our inner children and made full use of the waterslides, laughing as we raced down into the cool water below. It felt like the perfect antidote to the morning heat.
As sunset approached, we ventured into the hotel in search of the elusive “secret” Presidential pool rumored to be perched at the top level. While we didn’t quite succeed in finding it, we stumbled upon something equally delightful - the opulent lobby bar, where, as the only guests, Sergio quickly became our personal bartender. From our perch, we enjoyed sweeping views of the ocean and harbor while Sergio shared stories about the hotel and life in Barra.
Later, we hopped aboard a water taxi and zipped across the lagoon for dinner at Mangolito’s. Live music filled the warm night air as we enjoyed sizzling fajitas and a lovely bottle of white wine - all for about $30. A festive, flavorful ending to a full and memorable day in Barra de Navidad.
Monday, February 9, 2026 – Tenacatita to Barra de Navidad
Anchor aweigh at 9:00 a.m., we left Tenacatita and twenty cruising acquaintances behind, along with a lazy whale calf floating peacefully in the bay.
The passage to Barra de Navidad was sunny and calm, punctuated by a small pod of dolphins that briefly escorted us before launching into distant aerial acrobatics.
As we approached the harbor entrance, notorious for swell, both John and I felt the tension rise. Waves crashed against the rocks; surfers waited eagerly. We studied the sets carefully and timed our entrance, riding a wave in at 10 knots. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. Pulling safely into our slip felt like a triumph, especially with Jacques waiting dockside alongside a welcoming marina crowd.
The marina shares property with Grand Isla Navidad Golf & Spa Resort, a vast Spanish-style complex offering golf, pools, tennis, spa, and dining, all accessible to marina guests. Originally developed as part of a Carnival Hotel venture and later owned by “El Patron” Antonio Leaño Álvarez del Castillo, the property now belongs to his heirs. Though impressive in scale, much of it shows signs of neglect. Occupancy is reportedly low, yet the pool and amenities are a lovely bonus for cruisers like us.
That evening we took a water taxi to the enchanting town of Barra de Navidad. Arriving by water at night felt magical. Streets glowed with light and laughter. Colorful garlands made from spiral-cut, painted water bottles stretched overhead, shimmering in the breeze. We stopped at Sea Master with Wendy and Mike (No Worries) for a beachside nightcap and immediately sensed that our time in Barra would be memorable.
Sunday, February 8, 2026 – La Manzanilla and the Crocodile Rock
Determined to explore beyond the bay, we dinghied twelve minutes across to La Manzanilla. Pulling up near the pangas, we wandered through a small village of colorful homes, palapa bars, modest markets, and beachfront hotels. The main road buzzed with motorcycles and ATVs, often carrying entire families in configurations that would give U.S. traffic officers heart palpitations.
Down a dusty road bustling with Sunday locals, we found the Estero Palo Verde crocodile estuary. After yesterday’s crocodile drought, today delivered a reptilian jackpot. Along elevated wooden walkways, we observed American crocodiles of every size resting in the mangrove-lined lagoon. One even drifted toward us expectantly- clearly conditioned to human presence and searching for a snack.
The modest museum displayed skulls, skeletons, and local history. Protected areas housed younger crocodiles. Iguanas lounged in the trees, hornet nests clung ominously overhead, and birds flashed through the branches. At 50 pesos per person, it was a fascinating and worthwhile visit.
Lunch at El Cato was less triumphant — slow service and undrinkably sweet beverages — though our fish dishes redeemed the experience.
Back in Tenacatita, mosquitoes made their presence known — and apparently selected me as their preferred entrée. Instead of watching the Super Bowl (and missing Bad Bunny’s halftime show), we gathered with Michelle and Eric (Ocean Love), Tim and Robin (Nani Ola), and Marty and Gary (Simpatico). The easy camaraderie more than compensated for missing the game.
Saturday, February 7, 2026 – Tenacatita/ Mangroves and Playa Tenacatita
At 8:30 a.m., we checked into the Tenacatita Cruisers’ morning radio net to request a bike pump for our deflated dinghy wheels. This small need introduced us to Jacques and Carol from Jacquet Bateau, a Hylas we believe once belonged to our Santa Barbara neighbors, the Sutherlands.
Jacques, having navigated the mangrove river nearly twenty times, offered to guide us through the estuary. We had heard cautionary tales about tidal changes trapping dinghies, so we eagerly accepted his expertise.
The journey was serene and enchanting. Pelicans, egrets, white butterflies, red crabs, and darting fish lined the winding corridor of thick mangroves. The brackish green water reflected the canopy above. There was a rich, earthy fragrance in the air and a hushed stillness that felt almost sacred. No crocodiles revealed themselves, but the possibility added intrigue.
After about fifteen minutes, the mangroves opened onto Tenacatita Beach, where dinghies and pangas lined the shore. White sand, clear water, and a string of palapa restaurants welcomed us. We noted a sailboat, Legacy, grounded on the rocks, a sobering reminder that anchoring demands vigilance.
We chose Don Alejandro for lunch and enjoyed some of the best tacos yet.
On the return, we navigated more confidently and noticed a lively bocce ball game underway at the palapa. Later, after a short nap, we joined cruisers on the beach, including James and Theresa from Luna.
Friday, February 6, 2026 – Tenacatita – Los Angeles Locos Hotel & Resort
Tenacatita gifted us a calm, cool night and a peaceful morning. At 7:00 a.m., with the bay resembling a pond, we paddled across glassy water. Pelicans and small gulls dominated the rocky outcroppings. Fish were scarce, and the water remained a murky green, likely the result of a recent bloom. Eric and Julie from Ocean Love paddled by, and we enjoyed a friendly chat mid-bay.
With many boats departing that morning, we re-anchored closer to shore. Beach bags packed, we headed to Hotel & Resort Los Ángeles Locos, quickly learning that day passes and wristbands are required for the all-inclusive amenities. Even more noticeable — we were the only gringos on the property! Everyone was welcoming, the music lively, and the activity team delightfully energetic. One of the day’s highlights was watching mischievous coatis stealthily steal unattended food. They resemble raccoons crossed with monkeys- clever and bold.
At sunset, we intended to meet Eric and Julie at the palapa but instead connected with the crew of No Worries — Mike, Chris, Mike (son-in-law) and Kyle from Montana. We ended the afternoon aboard their boat in easy conversation.
Thursday, February 5, 2026 - Tenacatita
Our 3.5-hour passage to Tenacatita was smooth and uneventful, with very little sea life along the way. On the way we made the unfortunate discovery that as the tank emptied, the water from La Cruz Marina was turning brown, possibly explaining some stomach issues that were experiencing recently. John emptied the tank and made fresh water. As we rounded Punta Farallón, we passed the massive red-orange, Moorish-inspired hacienda known as Cuixmala. Built by British billionaire financier and conservationist Sir James Goldsmith, the estate now operates as an ultra-exclusive, invitation-only eco-retreat surrounded by a private biosphere reserve. It is undeniably stunning. Unfortunately, we suspect our invitation may have been lost in the mail.
Entering Tenacatita Bay, we were greeted by the lively sight of sailboats racing enthusiastically across the water. More concerning was a large, unmarked rock sitting squarely in the harbor entrance — a reminder to stay sharp. The wide, sweeping anchorage was dotted with boats, and from the water we could see a lone palapa, an expansive beach, and several large resorts perched along the hillside.
After settling in, we launched the dinghy to explore. A steady stream of dinghies headed toward shore, so we followed the crowd and discovered it was the wrap-up awards party for the race. We lingered on the periphery — more like flies on the wall than active participants, observing a tightly knit cruising community celebrating together.
Wednesday, February 4, 2026 – Bahia Chamela
We enjoyed another night of comfortable rest, complemented by a refreshing breeze through the open portholes and the steady crash of surf on the beach. Still, there always seems to be that one rooster-the self-appointed early riser-who takes pride in crowing well before dawn.
After breakfast, we hopped on the paddleboards and headed toward the far wall of the bay near the entrance to the panga river for a bit of exploration. It was a long trek across the bay, with currents that persistently nudged the boards toward the beach. While the water and surrounding terrain were beautiful, we were under-impressed by the visibility and the lack of sea life. A few small black juvenile damselfish darted below us, and gulls perched fearlessly on the rocky outcroppings.
We were, however, pleased to spot a sea turtle and several intriguing, iridescent, transparent, pea-sized flecks drifting in the water. These gelatinous blobs, known as salps, are planktonic organisms that often appear following plankton blooms. The highlight came when a spotted eagle ray glided slowly and gracefully directly beneath my board. Though they have a barbed spine for defense, they are generally peaceful and keep their distance—as long as you do the same.
Back aboard Nirvana, we packed our beach bags and paddled ashore. Lunch was enjoyed at Restaurant El Playón, where we savored fish ceviche and delicious arrachera fajitas. Afterwards, we set off on a long beach walk toward the point where the seemingly endless sandy shoreline begins. It was a peaceful stroll and fascinating to observe the variety of structures along the way, palapa bars, RVs, and small hotels scattered along the beach.
On our final night, we enjoyed a quiet dinner onboard and reflected on the setting and the people of the small village of Chamela. In the distance, we could still hear the squeals and laughter of families enjoying the final moments of daylight, splashing and playing in the warm waves, an unmistakable soundtrack of coastal life.
Tuesday, February 3, 2026 - Bahia Chamela
After a slightly cooler and more comfortable night’s sleep, we awoke to a beautiful sunrise spilling over the Sierra Madre del Sur mountains. The tiny beach village of Punta Pérula was still groggy, slowly coming to life as our friends aboard Luna, James and Theresa, glided into the anchorage. With calm seas and clear skies, we were eager to explore the village, the beach, and the nearby Chamela Bay Islands Sanctuary.
After breakfast, we climbed into the dinghy and motored toward the river entrance where local fishermen dock their pangas. Following a panga driver, we ventured into the narrow canal, bordered by dense, wooded mangroves on one side and a modern malecón on the other. The malecón is little more than a simple walkway—quiet and empty, with no shops, businesses, or tourists in sight.
From there, we cruised the circumference of the bay, taking in a mix of palapa restaurants, both new and timeworn beach homes and hotels, and miles of pristine, undeveloped shoreline. Along the way, we passed the small town of San Mateo, home to the striking Iglesia de San Mateo, the town’s primary landmark. We then crossed the bay to explore two of the islands within the sanctuary—La Cocina and La Pajarera.
La Cocina (“The Kitchen”) earned its name from sailors who believed the rocky overhangs resembled ovens and once came ashore to cook their meals. Today, its white sand beach is a popular stop for panga drivers and visitors alike. As we approached La Pajarera (“A Place Full of Birds”), its name became immediately obvious. Boobies, pelicans, and frigatebirds filled the sky, nesting on the cliffs and circling overhead. We explored just two of the eight islands in the sanctuary, all of which are federally protected.
Back on the mainland, we went ashore and secured our dinghy at the panga dock before walking down the beach to meet Theresa, James, and their dog Frankie for lunch at Las Güeras. Over fresh, beachside mariscos, we shared stories and laughter with our new friends. As on many beaches we’ve visited, vendors wandered by offering fresh oysters- tempting, yet potentially risky in this warm setting.
By afternoon, the wind had built to around 15 knots, putting an end to our paddleboarding plans. The air temperature hovered near 85 degrees, with the water a balmy 83. Fish frequently darted from the water, and earlier in the day John spotted a school of giant trevally gliding beneath the boat—one more reminder that this vibrant bay is very much alive. A sunset swim and chicken marsala dinner were the perfect ending to the day.
Monday, February 2, 2026 – Bahia Chamela
Our early departure for Bahía de Chamela was a success as we raised anchor and began our journey by 6:00 a.m. Cruising quietly out of the anchorage, we were serenaded by invisible whales—soft breaths rising from the darkness. It was eerie, humbling, and utterly magical.
As we passed the silhouette of Las Islas Mariettas, the full moon lingered brightly off our starboard side, while to port, the sun began to assert itself, gently illuminating the morning sky and unmistakably ushering in a new day. The seas were calm, the air warm, and the conditions ideal.
The crossing itself felt wonderfully solitary. We spotted only one distant sailboat, likely bound for the same destination. Shy sea turtles drifted past, looking more like floating boxes than living creatures, and occasionally dolphins surfaced briefly before darting away. The dolphins of Banderas Bay are noticeably less gregarious than those of our Channel Islands—a difference shaped by environment and feeding patterns. California common dolphins are like elite athletes, traveling in large pods, racing bows, leaping, and showing off with their lighter gray coloring and white undersides. In contrast, the bottlenose dolphins of Banderas Bay feel more relaxed and soulful—dark gray, moving quietly in small family groups, often sharing the waters peacefully with humpback whales.
Arriving just before sunset, Bahía de Chamela welcomed us with warm light, glassy water, and dramatic rock formations. Only two other boats rested in the vast bay, making anchoring quick and effortless. Soon we were settled on the bow with a beverage in hand, watching another glorious Mexican sunset—reflecting on and celebrating our first long passage together.
Sunday, February 1, 2026 - Punta Mita
Today was our scheduled departure day from La Cruz Marina to Punta Mita. The morning began with a quick boat cleaning—dust from the Circus crowds and vehicles had settled everywhere. At 11:00 a.m., we dropped the lines, serenaded by the church bells ringing across the marina, a perfectly timed farewell.
As we motored out of the harbor and passed the bustling Farmer’s Market, Kat and Jarrod from Sagata called out, “Adios, Nirvana!” while snapping photos from shore. The one-hour cruise was calm and sunny. We passed our friends aboard Luna along the way, then continued into the anchorage. Just offshore, whale calves leapt from the sea, practicing their newfound breaching skills. We slowed the boat to enjoy their remarkable performance. Apparently, mothers teach their calves to breach to develop coordination and speed, demonstrate their growing size, communicate, and simply to play.
The anchorage itself is wide open, offering plenty of room to set the hook. Mark aboard Carpe Diem had spent the night there, so we joined him. While undeniably beautiful, we soon discovered a few drawbacks. The exposed anchorage left us vulnerable to wind chop on our port side, prompting us to deploy the flopper stopper. The second challenge was the steady stream of panga traffic. With the nearby Islas Marietas, pangas ferry tourists back and forth at high speeds, sometimes passing uncomfortably close to anchored yachts. The resulting wake, noise, and proximity felt intrusive and occasionally unsettling.
After making lunch, we enjoyed a short nap, then headed out for a paddle and a refreshing swim before sunset. The true highlight of this anchorage, however, was watching the whales at play and seeing Sierra fish rocket clear out of the water.
By evening, the wave chop finally subsided, and we settled in for a pleasant dinner, an episode of Landman, and an early bedtime—readying ourselves for a 5:00 a.m. wake-up the next morning.
Saturday, January 31, 2026 - La Cruz
Today the circus came to town—right in our own marina backyard! Circo Agave opened its doors at 3:00 p.m., transforming the area into a lively celebration. The event offered something for everyone, including agave tastings featuring tequila, mezcal, and raicilla from local producers, a large stage with several live bands, plentiful food stations, and Cirque du Soleil–style performers weaving through the crowd. Thankfully, it wasn’t overly crowded, allowing for a relaxed and enjoyable mix of entertainment for all ages and stages.
We especially enjoyed meeting Gabriel and Miguel Angel from Herencia Tequila. John couldn’t resist purchasing their delicious tequila, and they generously gifted us t-shirts for everyone in our family—a fun and unexpected souvenir from the afternoon.
After a few hours, we were ready for a break and a proper sit-down dinner, so we wandered over to La Parota and were met with a wonderful surprise. That evening, the dancing horses—caballeros bailadores—took over the street in front of the restaurant. This long-standing Mexican equestrian tradition features horses performing rhythmic suertes (movements) in time with music. Watching the elegant choreography unfold just steps from our table was mesmerizing.
It was an entertaining, uniquely Mexican, and truly memorable evening—one of those nights that will linger fondly in our travel memories.
Friday, January 30, 2026 - La Cruz
Today’s to-do list included a visit to the Port Captain’s Office to notify them of our planned departure on Sunday—a required step in Mexico each time you enter or exit a port. With that chore complete, we set off on a hot but interesting low-tide beach walk toward the bay next to El Faro Grill.
Along the way, we explored the Kovay Gardens pool and beach area, learning that visitors are welcome to use the beach loungers (though not the pool) free of charge as long as they order food and beverages. It’s a good option to keep in mind for our next stay in La Cruz Marina.
On our walk back to Nirvana, we stopped for lunch at Cata del Mar and happily reconnected with our favorite waiter, Osvaldo. As effervescent as ever, he took wonderful care of us, serving up delicious agua chile and tuna ceviche— another lovely day.
Thursday, January 29, 2026 - La Cruz
Another aqua class was on the schedule this morning, though we started earlier than usual due to a Spanish class that meets by the pool on Tuesdays and Thursdays. This time, Kat’s mom, Laura, joined us, making the group even more fun.
After class, we grabbed a taxi and headed to Mega to stock up on provisions. Once back in La Cruz, we set out on a long exploratory walk through the neighborhood. La Cruz is a small town full of surprises—unexpected shops tucked away here and there, cobblestone roads that are charming but challenging to navigate, and a fair amount of dust and time-worn buildings.
But if you look a little deeper, the soul of the town reveals itself: brightly painted home facades, beautifully executed wall murals, church bells clanging at random moments, and joyful people surrounded by family and friends. In the afternoons, locals escape the heat by gathering on the beach to swim, relax, and share meals. La Cruz is a very special place.
We ended the day watching the sunset and enjoying dinner at Ballena Blanca. Even the simplest days feel meaningful here.
Wednesday, January 28, 2026 - Sayulita
At 9:30 a.m., Kat, Jarred, and Theresa joined me at the pool for our very first M3 (Marina 3) aqua class. The pool is tiny, but it worked perfectly for our small group. None of them had taken an aqua class before, so the session was part workout, part experimentation—and entirely fun. Lots of laughs all around!
By noon, John and I were climbing into a taxi bound for the artsy, foodie city of Sayulita, ready for a change of scenery and a little day adventure. We were dropped at La Puesta Hotel, a favorite spot we discovered during our visit last January. Perched on a hillside overlooking the ocean, La Puesta is truly a gem, offering breathtaking views of Sayulita, a fabulous pool, and exceptional food and service.
Upon arrival, we arranged a day pass, which allows non-guests to enjoy the pool and dine at the restaurant. We were warmly welcomed by our hostess, Alondra, and attentively cared for by our server, Aldo, who quickly won John over with his impressive knowledge and enthusiasm for tequila.
After a relaxing afternoon poolside, we strolled along the beach and revisited a few familiar haunts. It was a simple, easygoing, and thoroughly relaxing day.
Tuesday, January 27, 2026 - La Cruz
Today we invited our marina neighbors aboard for a happy hour to thank them for their kindness and assistance, and to chat about future cruising plans. Much of the day was spent cleaning, prepping, and putting together snacks and drinks. Once everyone gathered around the table, we went around sharing our career backgrounds—an interesting exercise that revealed a surprising trend: three of our guests work in the medical field!
Judging by the empty plates and the fact that everyone lingered well past sunset, the evening was a definite success. Spirits were high, friendships were strengthened, and by the end of the night, we had even scheduled an aqua aerobics class for the following morning.
Monday, January 26, 2026 - Yelapa
Eager to finally drop the lines and take Nirvana out for a sail, we departed the harbor this morning bound for Yelapa, about a two-hour trip. For years I had heard about the almost mythical Yelapa—a peaceful fishing village with no road access, nestled in a river-fed valley surrounded by lush green hillsides, coconuts, mangos, and cascading waterfalls—and I’d long hoped to visit someday. Today was that day. This outing was also especially meaningful as it marked John’s and my first solo cruise on Nirvana, without Dylan or Morgan.
The conditions couldn’t have been better: sunny skies, light traffic on the water, and a smooth ride punctuated by a few whales briefly surfacing nearby.
As we entered the small harbor, we were immediately charmed by the colorful, timeworn structures lining the bay—dilapidated archways and bright homes tucked into a vibrant green backdrop. Edgar (whom I mistakenly called Hector at first) greeted us from his panga and helped secure Nirvana to two moorings for added comfort.
After making lunch aboard, we paddled to shore, already aware that our mooring spot wasn’t particularly calm. The beach scene was livelier than expected, with parasailing boats and bustling beach clubs filled with tourists—more reminiscent of popular Mexican beach towns than the quiet village we had imagined. Still, we went with it. We wandered along the beach, admiring the emerald lagoon that curves along one side, then settled into lounge chairs at Tino’s Café, run by Edgar’s family. We learned that several founding families have lived in Yelapa for generations, adding depth to the village’s character.
While sipping our drinks and watching tour boats come and go, we noticed Nirvana pitching noticeably in the anchorage. Conversations with locals confirmed our concern: the wind often shifts at night, making the harbor uncomfortable. Paddling back to the boat through five-second swells didn’t inspire confidence for a two-night stay. After some deliberation, we made the executive decision to drop the moorings and return to La Cruz for a more restful night.
The trip back rewarded us with a beautiful sunset, and we were warmly greeted at the dock by our neighbors aboard Sagata, Luna, and Carpe Diem, who helped guide us in after dark. We finished the day with a walk into town and a tasty dinner at La Parota. Not quite the adventure we had planned, but still a wonderful day on and off the water. Perhaps next time we’ll return by panga for a relaxed day trip—and finally hike to the falls.
Sunday, January 25, 2026 - La Cruz
This morning we finalized provisions for our upcoming travels around Banderas Bay. A visit to the immense Farmer’s Market proved just the ticket. We found a wide selection of gluten-free items for John and happily sampled many of the local vendors’ delicious offerings. We met up with Kat and Jarred from Sagata and gobbled down some tasty arepas. After asking several locals, we discovered the Fruteria Delegado and purchased a bag of maracuya pulp (passion fruit pulp). Now we can replicate Dylan’s tasty maracuya margaritas!
As a spontaneous plan for dinner, we decided to visit El Faro Restaurant, and it turned out to be a delightful little adventure. When making reservations, guests can also arrange for a panga pickup directly from the marina, and we were not disappointed when Fernando arrived, ready to whisk us across the water to the restaurant perched on a nearby point of La Cruz. While the service wasn’t exactly five-star, our waiter was friendly, the food was flavorful, and the open-air setting and relaxed ambiance more than made up for it. With both tummies and hearts full, we climbed back aboard the panga and were returned to Nirvana, grateful for another memorable evening afloat.
January 24, 2026 - La Cruz
Each year, the town of La Cruz hosts a special Blessing of the Fishing Fleet, a beloved tradition that brings the community together. Locals gather at the harbor Fish Market as priests offer for both the waters and the boaters who depend on them. A lively marching band set the tone while enthusiastic guests climbed aboard brightly decorated fishing pangas.
Families and friends filled the boats, which then paraded out into the bay, eventually heading south toward a beach in Bucerías. From shore, crowds lined the harbor, watching and cheering as the festive fleet motored past. We joined in from a distance, enjoying the spectacle from our dinghy and soaking in the joyful energy of the day. A curious baby whale briefly emerged to check out the excitement.
As the boats arrived in Bucerías, light raindrops began to fall—but they did nothing to dampen spirits. The priest continued offering generous blessings to everyone in attendance (tourists included), reinforcing the inclusive spirit of the celebration. The event concluded with an exciting display as adventurous panga drivers took turns throttling their engines and expertly beaching their boats onshore. With the swell running, the maneuver looked downright daring, but the skilled captains handled it with confidence, earning enthusiastic cheers and applause from the crowd.
Following an exploratory walk through town, down the beach, and back to Nirvana, we joined the crew from Sagata for dinner, returning to Cava, the traditional Mexican restaurant we had enjoyed back in December. As before, the meal was tasty and the service was good—but after a visit to the restrooms, I may be less inclined to return, as I remain a devoted fan of flushing toilets!
January 21–23, 2026 - Puerto Vallarta/ Zona Romántica
After retrieving our freshly cleaned laundry, we packed our things, scheduled a cab, and made the one-hour drive to Puerto Vallarta’s Zona Romántica. I first visited this neighborhood back in 1986 and was eager to see how it had evolved over the years. Our boutique hotel, Paramar, was perfectly situated right on the beach—close to the Malecón yet far enough from the more crowded and touristy Playa Los Muertos area.
Our two-night stay was delightfully full of exploration and fun. Using ChatGPT as our faithful tour guide, we set out to check off nearly every highlight on the list. We wandered the Malecón, visited the Church of Nuestra Señora del Carmen as well as the opulant Church of Our Lady of Guadalupe from 1883, admired El Fuente de Amistad—the dolphin fountain designed by Santa Barbara local Bud Bottoms and Octavio González symbolizing the sister-city connection—and explored Casa Kimberly in Gringo Gulch, once home to Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton and famously connected by its iconic bridge. We crossed over to Isla Río Cuale, a tiny island nestled in the river and home to a cultural center, did some shopping, strolled the Los Muertos Pier with its illuminated, sailboat-inspired design, relaxed and admired the awe-inspiring whales offshore at Mango’s Beach Club, and enjoyed a rock music performance by Peloz at Captain Don’s. Rooftop swimming and sunning at our hotel provided perfect breaks between adventures, and we were fortunate to witness the Danza de los Voladores—the “flying men” ceremony, an ancient Totonac ritual both mesmerizing and moving.
Our dinners were enjoyed in small, intimate venues and were especially memorable. Our first evening took us to Flores, a French restaurant owned by Chef Miriam Flores. Floral décor created a beautiful, romantic ambiance that perfectly complemented the exquisite cuisine. The following night we dined at Layla, a deeply personal and cultural experience shared by the owner, Isabel, who explained that the restaurant was named after her daughter, Layla, who had passed away. I savored the largest pork shank I’ve ever seen—an incredibly flavorful recipe passed down from Isabel’s grandmother. The Zona Romántica is truly filled with wonderful restaurants, along with enticing cooking classes that make it a food lover’s paradise.
After two full days of walking, sightseeing, and soaking it all in, we were ready to return to La Cruz Marina and settle back into harbor life aboard Nirvana—grateful for the adventure and happy to slow the pace once again. Today our friends from Sagata arrived in the harbor so later we enjoyed catching up with them for dinner and music at Lusty’s on Land.
January 20, 2026 - La Cruz
Our first couple of days were spent getting the boat back in order. Nirvana was covered in dust from the nearby marina road, so we hired Aaron’s service to get her shining once again. Laundry from our prior trip was also on the list, as well as marketing to restock our food supplies. Our first dinner was at Peska, and our eyes were serenated by a lightning show as we dined. This was followed by light rain overnight.
The following day was beautiful and sunny so we enjoyed walking along the beach and checking out more beach clubs. We also met our boat neighbors, James and Theresa from Pleasantville, CA, as well as Issac and Fabiola from the Bay Area.
January 19, 2026
So much has transpired in the five weeks since we returned from La Cruz (Puerto Vallarta) to Santa Barbara. Despite our late arrival to the holiday season, we dove in headfirst—and with great enthusiasm.
Within three days of being home, John had the exterior Christmas lights glowing, Christmas cheer shimmered indoors, mistletoe and stockings were hung, and two Christmas trees were fully decorated. Meanwhile, four bottles of Broguerie’s eggnog chilled patiently in the refrigerator, waiting to kick off the festivities. We joyfully reunited with friends and carolers at the SBYC Candlelight Dinner, then headed to South Pasadena for a family brunch celebration. Our first week home was filled with reconnections and heartfelt catch-ups with dear friends.
Morgan’s Christmas Eve birthday was celebrated sushi-style at our home with Papa, DD, and Uncle Ken. His new Buzz Lightyear Talking Action Figure was a hit, and DD’s birthday cakes—memorable as always—added to the celebration.
Christmas Day was spent savoring homemade tamales and festive mimosas, followed by stocking gifts and a thoughtful gift exchange. While the elders rested, the boys made the rounds visiting friends’ families. That evening, we gathered again for a prime rib dinner complete with Papa’s mashed potatoes, a “landslide” Jell-O mold (don’t ask), and Papa’s favorite—chocolate cream pie. It was a perfect celebration.
As the holidays wound down, life quickly shifted gears. I resumed teaching aqua classes, John began meticulously mapping out the next leg of our Mexican sailing adventure, we focused on securing housing for Dylan in San Luis Obispo, and Morgan set his sights on selling his Sprinter van and relocating to San Diego.
New Year’s Eve found John and me celebrating at a Studio 54–themed party at SBYC—surrounded by friends, sparkle, and plenty of disco-inspired fun.
Finding housing for Dylan proved more challenging than expected, delaying our departure to Puerto Vallarta by two weeks. Making the best of it, we cherished the extra time together as a family—each of us aware that the coming months would carry us in new and separate directions. We shared meaningful conversations, plenty of laughter, and more than a few memorable meals.
That delay also allowed me to take part in events I thought I’d miss: an overnight visit in South Pasadena with Papa and DD (and joining their aqua class at the Rose Bowl Aquaplex), presenting the SBYC Woman of the Year Trophy, and attending my junior-high bestie Kimber’s retirement party in SLO—reunited with three of our classmates.
And now, here we are—John and me—soaring in a 737 toward the next chapter of this adventure. John has crafted a beautifully balanced itinerary, blending exploration, activity, and relaxation. This journey is unique: our first solo voyage on Nirvana, without the boys. I know there will be much to learn and undoubtedly new challenges ahead, but I’m confident we’ll rely on one another—and on the kindness of those we meet along the way.
Hang on… here we go!
