We stopped in Asunción, a small town most boats transiting the coast skip. We made the stop to visit the cemetery where Jesse’s aunt Susan was buried. We had an uneventful 50nm sail and dropped the anchor right off the town center in the big, exposed bay. We took the dingy to the beach, and walked through the very quiet town towards the cemetery we found on satellite imagery. The town felt abandoned, with the few surf and fishing themed hotels and their associated restaurants and cafes shuttered for the season.
As we walked along the highway out of town, a couple from California in their camper truck stopped and gave us a ride the rest of the way to the cemetery. It was a beautiful spot on the hill overlooking the bay. A short rain storm drenched us, and left the desert smelling fresh. Delicate wildflowers on low growing bushes were blooming everywhere. We got a simple dinner in town at the only open restaurant.
When we got back to the bay, our friend on Wild Blue was back! He’d had some mechanical issues to tend to so made an unplanned stop. We were all heading out into some not-great looking weather the next morning for a ~190nm sail to Bahia Santa Maria, so it was an early night for everyone.
The next morning, we were escorted by dolphins leaving the bay, and they hung around with the boat for an hour – playing in the wake and swimming along the side of the boat. Group after group after group came. They stayed so long I finally got my camera out and got a few bad pics. The water was incredibly clear. Not many boats stop in this bay, so I can only assume they were excited for something new.
That night, the weather picked up but what really picked up was the waves. We had 10+ foot swell with 6 second periods, meaning the waves were taller than they were spaced apart and incredibly steep on the faces. The kicker was a violent secondary swell that would hit you on the beam while a different wave was picking you up from behind. Jesse stayed up until the wee hours of morning hand steering. The boat was getting tossed by the seas in every direction.
The auto pilot off-course alarm remixed with the bilge alarm float switch flipping up far enough to go off when we’d be thrown on our side was the soundtrack of the night. I was thinking of Wild Blue throughout my watch, single handing his boat.
When the sun finally came up and the seas started to settle Jesse and I laid in the cockpit totally spent wondering what the hell kind of trip we’d signed ourselves up for. It had been the worst overnight passage we’d done so far. We hailed Wild Blue in the morning, relieved to hear his voice crackle back over the VHF. The signal was broken, but he’d made it. Seeing Wild Blue safely anchored when we turned the corner into Bahia Santa Maria was a relief. In his words, it had been the worst sail of his 25yr sailing career.
Ophelia Offshore 
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