The climb involved scaling narrow rock cracks and trusting frayed ropes that looked like they’d been installed sometime during the Steinbeck expedition itself. We got stuck, got scratched, but made it to the top. And, more importantly, back down alive.

Fuel concerns returned. With only one jerry can left, the next refuel points were La Paz or Puerto Escondido. La Paz was logical, but we preferred to avoid it.

I’d be lying if I said our sailboat adventures were only about the destinations. A huge part of cruising life is the time spent underway. Those hours and days when we’re keeping the boat moving toward the next port. But what exactly do we do while we’re out there? Especially on longer passages that stretch beyond a few hours and turn into days at sea? Great question. Let me take you along.

Our plan: drop the stern, motor forward, drop the bow, and snug everything tight. Reality: wrap the stern line on the prop, drift awkwardly across the anchorage, and scramble to recover.

We’ve been in El Salvador for over three months now. And we’re still here. Why? Because slow travel by sailboat often means waiting for the right time, and right now isn’t it. To the north, it’s hurricane season. To the south, it’s stormy season. And to top it off, the ocean swell is too big for us to safely cross the bar and head out into the Pacific Ocean.

Of course, that short trip came with drama. What started as a calm sail quickly turned into a full-on retrieval mission when our dinghy wheels went overboard. Of course, the wind decided to ramp up to 25 knots just as we tried to fish them out. Yes, we had all the sails up. After 45 frantic minutes, we managed to retrieve the wheels—along with the realization that if either of us ever goes overboard, we’re probably not getting rescued.

British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast and Gulf Islands offer some of the most underrated sailing anchorages on the Pacific Coast. While many cruising guides highlight dramatic destinations like the west coast of Vancouver Island or the glacier-fed inlets of Alaska, savvy boaters know there’s something special about these more sheltered local waters.

“Apparently Cabo Corrientes can be a little sporty,” I said, reading from the cruising guide while we sat at anchor in Chacala. The bay was calm and still, with hardly a ripple—hard to imagine anything “sporty” about it. “Tomorrow looks like a good time to go.”