BAHIA ESCONDIDO, Mexico JUNE 30, 1997

   The next day at noon, I was ready. At about 12:30 Daniel began calling me on the VHF. I answered several times, but he couldn’t hear me. I suspect either his volume was turned down or his squelch was turned up too high. Another piece of equipment they didn’t know how to use. At about 1:00 he tried again. This time he heard me respond. Daniel announced that they were on their way and they had a faster boat. No helicopter, but a faster boat. A half hour later a PGR high speed patrol boat rounded the point. I directed them to approach Toucan on the side with all the fenders to protect our hull. As they came along side, we counted 14 heavily armed Federal Police and Marines. Everybody was in full combat fatigues and carried either automatic rifles or fully automatic machine pistols in addition to their side arms. They seemed to have taken the point that somebody else must be looking for the dope too.

   This really was a fast boat, so casual talking was difficult. Everybody kept a diligent watch and I navigated. About 10 miles out, we spotted a 55 foot cabin cruiser heading north. We there was a lot of excited chatter and we changed course to intercept the cruiser. As we approached, the cruiser came to a stop and one of the Comandantes greeted the captain. The vessel was American, but the owner was not aboard and a Mexican skipper was delivering the boat to San Carlos on the mainland. I was invited to participate in the boarding and search of an American vessel at sea by the Mexican Federales. Quite an experience. The Federales were very thorough and professional. They checked all the ship’s papers and searched all the compartments. They were very courteous throughout. The skipper received no explanation for the Federale patrol boat filled with Marines with machine guns with a gringo in a life jacket, yellow military binoculars and some electronic device in his hand apparently giving directions to the Federales. I can not even imagine the stories this skipper is telling his friends.

   While all of this was going on, I talked with Hector. While we were alone, I told him that I knew he spoke English far better than he pretended. He grinned and looked down for a moment. We he looked up he explained in perfect English that he understood "a little." When I asked him where he learned, he told me he used to live in Fresno! I explained to him that I figured it out when I offered that explanation to the American fishermen. He laughed for a minute and then said "you lied." I explained that they didn’t need to know what we were doing. Hector told me I had done well. I discussed the police organization a little more with Hector. Just to make sure I knew who I was working for, I asked if his group was what the Americans referred to as the "Federales." He laughed and nodded his head vigorously "Yes, yes!" I really like Hector.

   After we determined that there was nothing bad happening aboard the cruiser, we once again headed off for that magic spot of water where we picked up the survivors. As we approached, the wind and current was pushing us north, so I had to keep adjusting the helmsman’s course. He didn’t immediately understand, but when he did I told him "This is what’s happening to the dope!" They were beginning to get the picture. Ultimately we arrived at the exact spot. Of course, there was nothing to be seen but ocean. Everyone stood around with hands on hips staring at the sea. After about 30 seconds, the senior Comandante spoke to the skipper. We didn’t have enough fuel to look around a lot, so we were going back. The engines didn’t start.

   After a lot of discussion, the skipper determined that he had to switch to a secondary fuel tank. We were off. After about a hundred yards, the engines coughed, sputtered and died. While we waited for the skipper to figure out what was wrong, the Comandante explained that I was right and they would try to bring the helicopter tomorrow. I could just tell by the look in his eyes. "I suppose you would like me to go with you."

   "Yes, Please!"

   "I hope your helicopters run better than your boats…"

   The commandente asked how long it would take for Toucan to come out and rescue us. I explained that it would be about 4 hours, but there was a problem. The person who could do that was me, and I was here! Of course, Cyndee could have easily hauled anchor and driven out to get us, but in this macho world my story flew successfully. Eventually the skipper figured out that there were three tanks on board and he simply had to switch to the third. The engines roared to life and off we went. On the way back I got to talk with Daniel some more. He explained that they were a special interagency group recently created to combat drug trafficking. Suddenly I had a brief moment of clarity. I asked if this boat was a seized vessel. It was. That’s why they didn’t know how to use it or any of their electronics. Everything was seized. About the time I figured this out, we were heading for Agua Verde.

   There is a large rock in the middle of the approach with a reef that extends quite a bit south. In order to enter the bay, you have to approach very close to the mainland to avoid the reef. Apparently the skipper did not realize this and was headed straight for the reef. I mentioned this to Daniel who dutifully discussed it with the skipper. Daniel explained to me that everything was ok. I noticed that the skipper was now headed much closer to the rock and reef. I decided to wait until I could make my point clear. Eventually we got to so close to the reef (at 25 mph) that I could see the waves break. I pointed this out to the skipper directly. The look on his face made it obvious that he understood. He spun the wheel hard over to port and everyone struggled to hang on. We cleared the reef by about 200 feet. Everyone gathered on the starboard rail, pointing and talking excitedly. We managed to enter Agua Verde and approach Toucan without further incident.

   As I stepped from the patrol boat to Toucan, the Comandante explained that they needed 2 stroke oil for their outboards and asked if I had any. When I asked how much he needed, he told me "4 or 5 liters." I have a couple of gallons aboard for our outboard, but was not about to just give them up for the asking. I told them that this was a fishing village and since everybody drove pongas, they could buy some ashore. They noticed that our dinghy was not here, and laughed when I explained that my wife and kids had it. Even though they were prepared to try to commandeer a dinghy from another American yacht in the anchorage, they were greatly relieved when I called Cyndee on the VHF. She was on her way back from the beach and would be here any minute. In the meantime I rafted their patrol boat up with Toucan. Previously, when they had approached another boat several Marines lined the rail to hold the two boats together while trying to keep them from damaging each other. At first there was confusion and then amazement when I took a bow line from the patrol boat to the bow cleat on Toucan and then took the stern line from the patrol boat and ran it around a winch at the stern. I cranked on the winch until their boat was tight against the fenders with no chance of damage to either boat and no need to hold on. These guys really need help.

   When Cyndee arrived I took the skipper to the beach in the dinghy. He found the oil he needed from the local store (actually just a pantry in a resident’s house, but this was the town’s store). In the meantime, Cyndee talked with the Federales. They already knew that the following day was Cyndee’s birthday because I made them promise that the helicopter would not break down and I would be home in time to celebrate (I also asked one of the Comandantes if after all of this I qualified to wear one of their cool uniforms. He laughed and immediately communicated my request to the other two. Everyone appreciated the joke, but I didn’t get a uniform.) When Daniel suggested that Cyndee would be celebrating with cold beer, she explained that we chose to travel without refrigeration. Refrigeration systems seem to be the biggest source of expense and heartache to cruisers next to desalination (which we also chose to go without). The Federales thought we were just too primitive to believe, although they all loved it when Cyndee explained that we had a bottle of Tres Generaciones tequila on board. They wanted to know what we ate if we had no refrigeration. Cyndee showed them cans of chicken, beef, tuna and various other foods. One of the Comandantes was interested in our fishing tackle, so he came on board to discuss it with Cyndee.

   Cyndee expressed concern about our planned travel to Bahia de Los Angeles. She explained that the ham radio networks had been talking about nothing else but Toucan and the miraculous rescue of the 3 "fishermen." Considering the instant fame the name Toucan was enjoying, it was likely that the money man for the dope would have heard about it. It wouldn’t take a genius to conclude that his 3 missing dope couriers were our 3 fishermen. The Comandantes had a conference and then assured her that we would be safe. They would put marines on the beach to protect us. Cyndee couldn’t make them understand that we were not worried about Agua Verde, but Bahia de Los Angeles.

   When the skipper and I returned, he dumped the oil into the tank and they were ready to head back to their little marina in Loreto. They might bring the helicopter tomorrow. This would be 96 hours after the pickup, and I knew it would never happen. I explained that we were not intending to spend our lives in Agua Verde and eventually we would leave. Daniel looked suprised and asked were we were going. I told him that we were headed north and would hit a few of the islands. With a wink and a grin, he said there was no problem, "we’ll find you."

   We moved into a smaller, more secluded cove of Agua Verde the next morning. This cove had a small sand beach which we shared with the two other boats in the anchorage: Emerald Star and Zugvogel. While we were on the beach, a ponga full of marines buzzed us and waved. The Federales had really put marines on the beach to protect us. When they got there and could not see Toucan, they commandeered a ponga and came in search of us. The protection only lasted one day, and that was the last we heard.

   It was somewhat of a letdown to not find the dope. We would have had a chance if we had taken the helicopter the first time. Trying to search all that ocean from sea level made the exercise futile. Fortunately, the experience was exciting, fun and educational. We got to see a side of the Mexican Federales few Americans see. After all the horror stories all Americans hear about the Federales, and the legendary corruption of this same group, it was interesting to find them to be very polite, conscientious and professional. More importantly, we made some lasting friendships with Victor, Daniel and Hector. When we arrived in Loreto, we stopped by the PGR office (causing the cab driver great consternation) to visit with Victor. He seemed genuinely please to see us and agreed to bring his wife and child to dinner aboard Toucan.

   Mexico is under great pressure from the United States to stop the flow of narcotics through their country into ours. We make lots of noise, threats and demands, but apparently provide little assistance in the way of tools or training. These guys were trying to comply using equipment they didn’t know how to operate and methods that don’t make sense. If we want to continue to blame others for our drug problems, and insist they solve the problem for us, we need to at least provide some training.

Jim, Cyndee, Christina and Chaz Crosby

s/v TOUCAN

END OF TRAVELS OF TOUCAN PART 4