South to Chamela and Tenacatita Jan 2006

January 14, 2006

Departure Day

We slipped away from Nuevo Vallarta on a high tide, giving ourselves the best chance of clearing the shallow, narrow entrance. Even then, the swell was pushing in hard, rolling straight through the cut and keeping us on edge as we threaded our way back out to sea.

Once clear of the break and all its hazards, we turned south and set our course toward the far edge of Bahía de Banderas. Our next milestone: Cabo Corrientes, often called the “Point Conception of Mexico,” where coastal cruising gives way to more distinctly tropical waters.

Rounding the cape felt like a threshold. The air softened, the water warmed, and the coastline shifted into something wilder and more remote. From there, we continued on to Punta Ipala (20°14′N, 105°36′W), a tucked-away anchorage offering welcome protection. The bay was small and alive with local color, fishing pots scattered across the water, nets strung near shore, and a quiet village watching over it all.

South to Chamela

Up early the next morning, we weighed anchor and continued south to Bahía de Chamela, about 52 miles down the coast.

Sailing along this stretch of Mexico is often more theory than practice. Mornings tend to be glassy and still, and when the wind does arrive in the afternoon, it rarely comes from a favorable direction. For us, it made more sense to motor between anchorages, trading romance for efficiency and gaining more time to actually enjoy each stop.

At a steady six knots, the trip took about 8–9 hours. Under sail in those conditions, we’d be closer to four knots and double the travel time. With diesel readily available and our reliable Perkins engine humming along, it was an easy call.

We settled into Chamela for a few days, and it quickly became a favorite. The beaches were wide and inviting, and meals at Manuelita's Palapa were as memorable as the anchorage itself.

Dave Hunt from Jane’O joined us. Life aboard a monohull, with children, routines, and tighter quarters, was a shift from what he was used to, and we all had to navigate those differences as best we could. Afternoons consisted of swimming off the boat and beach and quiet evenings ashore.

There’s something deeply satisfying about sitting on a quiet beach, looking out across the water, and seeing your home anchored just offshore.

A few days later, we continued south and pulled in for a look at Bahía Careyes. It’s a stunning stretch of coastline, but conditions weren’t in our favor. A growing field of mooring balls had taken up much of the usable space, and a large powerboat occupied the only truly secure anchorage. After a quick assessment, it was clear, this wasn’t our stop.

So, onward to Bahía Tenacatita. That decision paid off immediately. It became our favorite anchorage so far, one of those places that just feels right the moment you drop the hook. The holding was solid, the bay well protected, and a small community of about 20 boats gave it a relaxed, welcoming feel.

Days quickly found their rhythm. It often started with a swim ashore and a wander up the beach. Afternoons filled with games with the other cruisers, Mexican Train dominos and bocce ball matches that stretched longer than expected, and a few cold drinks shared among new friends.

By evening, we’d head back out to Blue Sky, the light softening over the anchorage, and fire up the barbecue.

At the north end of Bahía Tenacatita, a narrow river opened up, just wide enough to invite exploration by dinghy. We followed it inland, the waterway winding its way through dense mangroves toward the small beach town of Rebalsito.

The ride itself was half the adventure. At times the river stretched open and calm; at others, the mangroves leaned in so close it felt like they might swallow us whole.

Rebalsito was simple and welcoming. A few small shops offered the basics for reprovisioning, and the palapa restaurants lining the beach made it an easy place to linger over lunch. The local specialty quickly became a favorite, whole fish, butterflied and stuffed with crab and shrimp, grilled to perfection.

Heading back was a different story, in the best way. With a four-knot current pushing us along, the return trip felt like a fast glide through the jungle. Approaching the mouth of the river required a bit more attention, though. The water shallowed quickly, and the incoming swell kept things interesting as we timed our exit back into the bay.

For Phoebe and Drake, it was pure magic. Both agreed this ride beat the Jungle Cruise at Disneyland, no animatronics required.