Adios, mis amigos...

                                                                              

To every thing there is a season, a time for every purpose under the sun. I hope everyone has enjoyed the journey as much as I have.

Dockwise Adventure

Captain Dennis and Larry

Yesterday we participated in a new experience. We went along as crew (really, line handlers) on a boat which was being moved to California via its own boat transport, Dockwise. When we first liked, then decided to purchase Milagro, it was suggested by the broker that we have the boat shipped to Florida via Dockwise or Yacht Path.  Now Milagro is a full keel 44 thousand pound boat, and while it is definitely not the biggest kid on the block it staggered my imagination to think of loading that baby onto another bigger boat along with many other boats.  I couldn't imagine how it was done. Yesterday we got to see it first hand. A total of seventeen boats were to be loaded onto the Dockwise ship Super Servant III.  A sailboat which has been docked on our starboard, Sweet Jane, was being captained by Dennis Ross whom we have known both professionally and as a friend. Dennis was actually responsible for getting three boats on the ship so his wife Susan captained one and another couple took care of the third.  Besides the captain each boat needed at least a couple of line handlers on board and Sweet Jane had three.
I set my cell phone alarm for 6 a.m. This is only the third time since our arrival I've used an alarm to wake us before the morning nets, the other occasions being wake up calls for early flights. We sipped coffee as we gathered a few essentials and dressed, then went up on the dock where Dennis had already begun preparation for departure.

We cast off lines and backed out of the slip, followed immediately by Quoddy's Run, our neighbor on the port side.  Quoddy's Run was headed for British Columbia with the captain and first mate, two delightful ladies from Nova Scotia whose company we have enjoyed this past week.  It was a beautiful morning, in the mid sixties, the water was flat and there was just a slight breeze.  We motored out of the marina and into the channel, looking like the mother duck as most of the 17 boats followed us up the channel to the turning basin near the Pemex plant where the Dockwise ship was anchored. As we made the trip Dennis explained how we would enter the ship and what we'd do when we got there.

Boats being loaded...

Now here's captain Larry's explanation of just how the transport ship works: the Dockwise ship is designed such that with just the right depth of water, the ship can be de-ballisted, or in other terms, sunk, so that it rests on preferably a sandy bottom.  The stern of the boat opens up, and all the boats to be transported are brought inside the ship, and very carefully positioned, and tied into place.  Divers are then sent below the boats where they weld, under water, temporary stands to support the yachts to be transported.  Then the Dockwise ship is refloated as the water is pumped out, and the yachts are supported by the temporary stands as the boat lifts out of the water.  When the yachts are stable and all high and dry, additional welders come in and permanently weld the stands under the yachts.  The whole process is computer monitored and is very scientific.  It was also very impressive and fully defines thinking outside the box.

Boats or sardines?

We arrived  with time to spare and just circled for 20-30 minutes.  We were fourth in line, right after Lily and just before Quoddy's Run. As our turn came up the Dockwise loading master called Sweet Jane on channel 17 and gave the captain instructions on where we were to enter the ship, which side we'd tie off to and how many fenders and dock lines were to be in place. Dennis is an experienced and expert captain and he placed the boat beautifully; then we handed over lines to the  Dockwise crew and they pulled and maneuvered the boat into place.  Just to make things interesting the Dockwise crew spoke no English, either Ukrainian or French!

Anyone speak Ukrainian?

We stayed on board adjusting lines and fenders, Dennis closed up the boat and we all left Sweet Jane via a very narrow catwalk which was littered with ropes, straps and other debris.  We were packed in like sardines as we waited for the other boats to come aboard, but Dockwise did host a spread of tea, coffee, cold drinks and water as well as doughnuts and bologna and cheese(?) sandwiches. I turned down the food, despite skipping breakfast, as we'd been told the whole process would only take a couple of hours and I was looking forward to a big Mexican breakfast.
Dockwise arranged for a panga to shuttle captains and crews back to the nearest marina, but we watched two loads leave the ship before we got near the front of the line and that left us standing in the sun in what was, by now, around 90 degrees.
We finally managed to be the last two to board the third panga and arrived at Costa Baja marina around 11 a.m. From there we shared a taxi back to our own marina with the captain and crew of Quoddy's Run. At that point we decided to drive to Rancho Viejo for "breakfast." The six of us shared a table as well as lots of stories and laughter. I was talked into ordering jugo verde (green juice) which turned out to be a delicious combination of pineapple, grapefruit, nopales (cactus), celery and parsley served chilled in a huge margherita glass. Then I devoured the best huevos rancheros I've ever eaten...or maybe I was just really, really hungry.

Goodbye to good people

We said goodbye to our new friends as they were leaving for the airport for 20 hours of travel to Nova Scotia. One aspect of this life that troubles me is that after we meet and get to know and like other cruisers they just sail out of our life.  We're told that cruisers are constantly crossing paths with each other and will meet up again somewhere in their travels. We all exchange boat cards with contact info but for a person who doesn't like saying goodbye.......
Anyway, it was an interesting day, a fascinating trip and a great way to spend a beautiful Saturday in beautiful Baja California Sur.

Ah, yes

If you want guarantees in life, then you don't want life. You want rehearsals for a script that's already been written. Life by its nature cannot have guarantees, or its whole purpose is thwarted.

  Neale Donald Walsch

Mexican Navy Invasion

Some of the guys waved to me after this picture.

I went on deck yesterday to retrieve a tool for the captain and saw this boat from the Mexican Navy cruise up the canal next to ours.  My first thought was, "Wonder if they're checking foreign boat documents?"  but then common sense reigned and I thought, mmm, this is a Kodak moment.
Truthfully, until recently I held a suspicious view of Mexican authority, whether the army ( whose troops ride around in open trucks with men on board holding Uzis), federales, local policia or the navy. My biggest fear was that I would not be able to communicate properly with them if I were stopped for any reason. One of our dock neighbors, a young and attractive female, tried to get cute with the policia one evening when she was stopped for not wearing a seat belt. Using her hands as a push-up bra she tried to indicate, in Spanglish, why her bust was just too uncomfortable in a seat belt.  He was not amused and slapped her with a 1200 peso fine. While I still don't relish the idea of being waved to the side of the road I now feel considerably more proficient at handling such a situation.

Always very serious...

So camera in hand I walked to the end of a neighboring dock and waved to the guys.  I pointed to my camera and asked, o.k.? "Si," yelled the young man standing next to the helmsman.  "Smile," I shouted and did a thumbs up. Some of them looked my way and I snapped a couple of shots, then gave a loud "Muchas gracias, senors," and bowed. At that point some waved and smiled.  I should have left my camera "on."
They left the marina at that point and didn't stop at a single boat.  Just boys out cruisin', I suppose.

Grumpy Old Men or the Curmudgeon Club

I’ve reported in this blog about the regular radio net which comes on our VHF promptly at 8:00 a.m. Monday through Saturday. It is filled with serious information about and for boaters and provides a valuable service.  If the VHF has been left at a normal volume for the night one will have an opportunity to listen to, or become involved with, what is known locally as “the other net.”  Somewhere around 7:15 on most days (even Sunday) a personage known as “Shazam” announces on 22, “Turn to channel 21 for some free talk.” And so it begins.

For the next 45 minutes the majority of the speakers, with Shazam acting as net control, speak on a variety of current topics, politics and newsworthy events taking place in the U.S.A. with as much venom and vitriolic as they can muster.  Most of these guys lean very far to the right, and  according to them nothing has gone right in the U.S. since, well maybe, Lincoln (I have heard G. Washington demonized.) The irony is that most live in Mexico and have no inclination to return to America, ever!  It seems such waste of time and energy. And good old Shazam leads the listeners and speakers down a primrose path with a few short, pat phrases. He loves to talk about  Americans as” sheople” and scorns the “silence of the lambs.”  As far as he’s concerned EVERYTHING that is wrong in the world is the fault of the U.S.; somehow the U.S. even came out the bad guy in the earthquakes in Japan. I never could follow the "logic" there.  He has talked for months about what a crime it was that the U.S. hadn’t caught Bin Laden then criticized the SEALS effort in getting him then later charged that was probably all a hoax. The majority of the other listeners just agree with him…or are cut off with a sarcastic comment if they dare to challenge.

So why, you ask, do I listen to what must be a pretty objectionable 45 minutes for this avowed liberal? Good question. I have been known to raise my voice at the radio. I say thing like “What a bunch of idiots!” and “He’s got to be kidding” and “Oh yeah, the entire space program is a figment of Hollywood’s imagination and technology.”  Well, truth be told they do have some interesting call ins like the obviously intelligent (he often agrees with me!) gentleman who does a weekly science report and fills us in on what is going on in that world and another gentleman, a retired attorney, who often counteracts insane statements with common sense rebuttal. I once told him he was the voice of reason on the “show;” he grinned and replied that when he first listened free talk he referred to it as “freak talk.”  And while I think many of the opinions heard on free talk are out in right field and the conspiracy theories reek of paranoia, I find the show stimulating in a weird way.  Sometimes having to defend one’s own beliefs, if only to a patient husband, shines a spot light on those beliefs and puts them into perspective.

I used to think there were only a few talkers on this free talk and fewer listeners.  But the longer I am here and speak with other boaters the more I realize that many, many others enjoy a bit of bitter chat with their morning coffee. Occasionally people will admit that they, too, listen to free talk and do a bit of shouting and fist waving at the VHF too.
Sometimes a woman will call in with an opinion and, at the risk of being labeled sexist, is more likely to offer calm reasonable views. Uh, with the possible exception of B who comes on a couple of time a week with bizarre and rambling comments, usually having absolutely nothing to do with the subject at hand.  I have to admit I admire the grouchy guys for being respectful, not cutting her off and offering an “any comments?” at the end of her speech.  There never are any comments and it is probably just as well.

So I raise my cup of coffee to the grumpy old men with a thank you for a stimulating start to each and every day. I have to admit (I don't really want to admit!) that I've enjoyed listening to you. I’ll miss you guys. Salud!

Musings of an aging hippie

So, we talk for weeks and weeks, come to certain, mutual conclusions and make a huge decision. First I announce it to family, knowing they will understand, then to friends and write about it on my blog. Without trying to be melodramatic, sigh...then it's back to life as usual. 
I still wake up with the birds, read a little, then get up to change the radio to channel 21 for "the other net (more on these guys later)," make coffee and take Buddi for her morning ablutions then climb, literally, back in bed to share a lazy early morning with the captain.  We sit up in our bunk with Buddi snuggled between us and listen to our early net guys rant and wait for the 8 o'clock net to hear the marine news and what's happening in La Paz.
Then on to today's project which includes rearranging nearly the entire contents of the boat while the captain installs wiring and hoses for Milagro's air conditioning. I still do the laundry, cook the meals, fill the water tanks and clean..when there is actually a space available to clean.
We still get together with fellow cruisers for dock parties and enjoy wine and cheese on the deck with a couple of friends who returned recently from the mainland.  But nothing is really the same.  This past weekend we spent some time with a very special couple who live in San Diego and visit their boat, White Cap, when they can.  As we enjoyed a great dinner at a new favorite place I thought that this will most likely be the last time I ever see them.  The captain will probably meet up with them somewhere in the South Pacific but the chances of my seeing them again are slim. There is a litany of places and people I will most likely never see again. And I will not see my friend, my partner, the person with whom I chose to spend my life, for a very long time. And that makes me sad.
Yet I will get to see "new" grandchildren and renew acquaintances with the ones growing up way too fast. I will revisit my children who are not children at all and learn to love them as adults and friends, as the truly astonishing and interesting human beings they have become. And I will take the opportunity to search for, as Curly said in the film "City Slickers," One thing. Just one thing. Stick with that and the rest of it don't mean____."

I believe my life is a gift to experience, and I want to be able to experience it on my terms and from my perspective. I will recycle even though people tell me it's a useless endeavor. I will again ascribe to the theory that if I couldn't kill it I won't eat it.  I will meditate and exercise and and practice yoga. I will practice what I preach, that we are all one and what I do for another I do for myself and what I do for myself I do for another. I will search for and find that "one thing" that can make this 4th quarter of my life something for which I can be proud.

It will be hard to leave these nightly beauties, too.

Andrea Carolina

Andrea takes Buddi out to lunch 

For some time now we have been looking forward to meeting the nine year old daughter of our friend Jose Gracia.  Jose and his wife have been apart for awhile and he has missed his little girl terribly. Now she is back in his life for nice long visits and he is a very proud papa.
Jose knew we wanted to spend some time with her so he brought her out to the boat for a "grown-up" afternoon. I've been a vocal fan on this blog of Mexican children with their cheery dispositions and good manners: sweet nine year old Andrea Carolina Gracia Enchova was not an exception. We sat and "talked" for awhile.  My Spanish is still poor and her only English phrases are "hello", "bye" and Dad had taught her "thank you, Larry and "thank you Edie."

We four went to The Dinghy Dock Restaurant for lunch and after consultation she ordered broiled fish with vegetables and rice. She was a serious eater and did a good job on her lunch but was light on the veggies. After a brief conversation with Dad she began to eat them without complaint.  I told Jose that I had eaten that same meal and frankly the veggies were of the frozen variety and I didn't much care for them either!

After lunch and a pitcher of limonda we should have been full, but the grandpa in the captain wanted to buy the little girl some ice cream so we hopped in the car for a ride down the malecon and a visit to a newly opened frozen yogurt store.  The owner was behind the counter and reported that all of the yogurt was made by her husband with fresh fruit.  We each chose a favorite flavor and added toppings. As fresh and delicious as this yogurt was the toppings were overkill.

Ms Pac-Man skips a generation...and switches countries

By now we really were full, so back to the boat we went where the captain challenged Andrea to a Ms Pac-man tournament. Andrea made a good showing and all but beat the captain.  We lent her the game for the duration of her spring break visit and sent her home with peanut butter fudge and a big smile.

Jose came by yesterday with M. Pac-man and thanks for the day; truly, the pleasure was all ours.

Bittersweet

I have loved living in Mexico; it is one of the most reckless and exciting things I have ever done in my life.  I have loved the Mexican people and have come to the conclusion that people are basically the same regardless of where they live or what language they speak.  I have met and been a part of the cruising community, people who travel the world in their little floating homes challenging nature in its rawest form, and telling the most exciting and gripping stories as calmly as though they accidentally spilled a cup of coffee. I have loved living on a boat, although I have never lived in any house where I've been subject to daily head bumps and nearly weekly slips on steps. I have loved the desert, the beautiful colors, the long periods of time when there is no rain, indeed no rain AT ALL for seven… no count them again seven (7) months.  I have loved the weather, the unpredictable winds, which have names like coromuel, and chubasco and pineapple express, and sneak up on you while you sleep at night and surprise you every time.  I loved the sailing; true it was a bluebird trip without the test of high waves or the necessity of life preserving techniques, but the sea life I saw will live with me forever.  I will always laugh when I think of the sea lion basking in the sun, laid out on his back, not willing to even acknowledge our presence when we took our boat within 10 feet of where he was leisurely floating.  I will always smile when I recall the excitement of the pod of dolphins that swam along side of our boat, dodging in and out beneath our bow, seemingly attempting to see how close they can get to a moving boat within being crushed to smithereans.  I have seen stingrays doing a ballet and the tail of a whale. I will always remember how exciting it is to explore a new anchorage in a dingy, cruising among the rock outcroppings and finding the most outstanding tropical fish I have ever seen.  I now know what it’s like to sleep out on the hook and to see the sky and billions of stars without the ambient light of the city.  I know what it is like to live without utility companies, taking our power from the sun and the wind.  I survived, and enjoyed, a trip all the way across the United States of America, from sea to shining sea and then down the mysterious Baja, where stories of banditos, scorpions, Gila Monsters, and drugs lord abound.....and I have loved virtually every minute of it.  I have so many stories that I can tell children and grandchildren (whose number continue to grow in my absence).

But with this blog it will be the beginning of the end of  Milagro Adventure for me.  I know I will have more to share with you, but I have decided to move back to the States in June, and it seemed appropriate to let my friends know my intentions as soon as those intentions became clear to me. 

As I said before, I have had a wonderful time in Mexico, but this is the Captain’s dream on which I have chosen to tag along.  I am 66 years old, and it’s becoming ever more obvious to me that we get one trip through this life, and even though it’s been a hoot being here and sharing this adventure with the Captain, I need to move on to those things that I have put off for so long, things which will fulfill me as a person.  There are still things I hope to achieve, things which mean a great deal to me, and not one of us is promised a single tomorrow.  I have a driving need in my life to do something that, if by no other measurement than my own, counts for something. 

I want to have a closer tie to my family.  I have been so far away from Katie for the last few years that I hardly know the young woman she's become. We were a big part of her life when she was a little girl, and now she is beginning to plan her college career.  I miss her dearly.  At the rate they are growing the McCoy children will be grown up and moved on too, without knowing me or me really knowing them.  Jamie and Brandon are both taller than I am now, and are getting more grown up day by day. Before long it will be uncool to have a grandmother, or Mimi as they call me now, and I will have lost them too.  Ah, and there are more grand-children to come!

And what about our kids? Of course they are all grown up and all independent and on their own, musicians, doctors, mothers, professionals, but it makes me feel like I am still wanted and needed when Roger calls me up to discuss possible strep symptoms, and wants to know what I think he should do. Or when Heather emails us wanting to know if it's "all right" for her to play the old family violin her husband Danny has been repairing for us. Or when Amy and Jeff says yes, they would like us to stay the the children when they travel to bring home two new McCoys. Or when Teena calls just to make sure everything's o.k.  Or when Holly calls saying she, needs "mommy time." I am continually charmed when any one, or sometimes as a group, the kids recall something that happened when they were growing up, and they credit me for something special that I did for them.  Sometimes, its little things like that makes the journey worth the traveling. I don't want all those wonderful things to be over.  I want new stories to tell next year, and the year after that, and I want to have an important role in the lives of those that I love, and I just do not believe that I can accomplish that in Mexico. 
I want to make a mark in the world for which I will be remembered. For years I have thought that I had a place in the Peace Corps.  I feel that I have an amazing amount to give, and I need to find just the right way to make that contribution.  I don’t really think that it will be in the Peace Corps at this stage of my life, but I remember something very important that the Captain has said to me, in one form or another, over the years; you don’t have to go to Africa to find people who need special care, love and attention. That need exists in every place we have ever lived.  He is absolutely right.  The need for loving care and understanding probably looms in everybody’s neighborhood, or at least in every city in our country.  In Mexico, I participated in some of the most worthy charities and fund raisers you could imagine.  I sold raffle tickets, and used clothes, and worked hard on committees whose jobs it was to conduct these special events.  But at no time did I meet the children, or the poor, or the cancer patients I was trying to help.  I believe now that I am ready to get down in the trenches and be a part of the solution in a hands-on way.  I know that I could do that in Mexico, but I can also do that and be near my family in the States, and that’s what I am going to do.

I can't really imagine how it’s going to be, living without my Captain, my friend and companion for over 30 years now, but his dream is important too.  I would never ask that he change or compromise what has been his dream and driving ambition for so long.  After an incredible amount of conversation, discussion, and more than the occasional tear, the Captain and I are at peace with being separated for the while that it may take for each of us to follow our own dream. My thanks to the Captain who took me along on this wonderful adventure in Mexico, but even more important supported me, and encouraged me to seek out the fulfillment that I have been so desperately needing. And he'll be at my side on the journey home.

 

Fish that go bump iin the night

Just a few of our local "sea monsters"

When we first moved onto Milagro last fall we were often awakened in the middle of the night by something bumping insistently into the hull to be followed byswishing and gurgling noises.  As I sleep on the "inside" I am next to the hull and could actually feel the vibration as the sea creatures played around our boat at night. I imagined them to be the size dolphins, and maybe even actual dolphins. How embarrassing to learn from others living in the marina that these "giants" are some form of mullet! I suppose they are just chasing food as the marina is full of fish of all sizes.
Over the winter we realized that those fish had apparently moved to warmer waters as temperatures dipped into the 40's and we were no longer disturbed by their flopping about our boat.
Well the waters warming up and they are baaaaaaaack. That's o.k....I kind of missed them; now when they bump the hull in the middle of the night I just roll over, smile and go back to sleep.

Youth in Mexico

After a pleasant day on Sunday we decided to drive down the malecon and see if anything was open for our dining pleasure. The walkway and the streets were relatively quiet for a Sunday evening but we saw that our favorite restaurant for tacos was open and doing business. The captain swung through a U-turn and we found a place to park right in front of Rancho Viejo. The setting sun was shining directly on the sidewalk seating and we walked though the kitchen toward the stairwell hoping for upstairs seating.  A waiter waved his towel and said "caliente" and pointed up; we changed our minds and direction and went back outside.  We ordered cold beverages and sat in the quiet early evening examining the menu and trying to decide if we should order "the usual" or if anything looked better than our usual choices.
Just about the time the waiter came to take our order, a flatbed truck holding a large number of teens in matching t-shirts drove up the malecon toward us.  There were enormous speakers on board blasting music and the teens were clapping, singing and dancing enthusiastically.  Before we could ask, "What's the occasion?" we saw that the truck was followed by an even bigger group of teens, on foot;they were also singing and dancing and carrying signs, most of which had "CHRISTO" on them.  And this was just the beginning of a long parade with well over a thousand young people, all singing along with the loud music the Mexicans seem to love so well!  As it turns out, the parade ended across the street at the huge courtyard and pier on the water. First one group, then another moved to a stage and the teens took turns singing and cheering each other on.
I was pretty sure I knew what this was all about, but I asked our waiter, ?Que festival? and he replied, "Resurreccion!" The enthusiasm of this enormous group was contagious and it was truly inspiring to watch them, not understanding all of the lyrics yet feeling the passion of these young people.
We have found children and teens here in the Baja to be uniformly friendly and polite, and the older ones often try to engage us in conversation for the "English" experience. I'm sure there are obnoxious teens and bratty toddlers here as there are anywhere in the world, but we have enjoyed the ease with which these youngsters interact with us while always maintaining respect.
This is not the first time we have seen teens out in large numbers.  In late fall and through the winter they were out in droves handing out materials and attending rallies for their favorite political candidates. We were surprised then to see how passionate they were while maintaining order at all times. They do like their music to be LOUD but it's happy music.
Still, while waiting for Larry in the car outside a bank last week, I observed a Mom with two teenage girls standing in front of a store.  The Mom was tight lipped and looking angry. I was sure one of the girls was saying, "But Mom!", as her sister rolled her eyes and gave a sympathetic glance.  Ahhh, now that's what I call normal.

Hiking up to the Cross

Spectacular view by any measure

One of the things I brought to Mexico, and about which certain people rolled eyes, was my trusty pair of  hiking boots.  I love to hike and although I hadn't done much in recent years I had heard that there were great hiking trails in Mexico and on islands near anchorages all the way to the South Pacific. So, ignoring sniggers from unnamed sources, I packed my hiking boots and looked forward to making treks in distant lands. 

The cross...

On our arrival at Marina Palmira I noticed  that there was either a lovely big hill or small mountain (take your choice) overlooking the marina and a cross was mounted at the top.  I heard from other cruisers that it was a nice hike up to the cross and had even been invited to join a couple of other cruisers on one occasion; prior plans, then later the weather being too hot or too cold or just not feeling like it prevented me from making the trek...until now.  Our friend, John, mentioned that he, too, wanted to hike to the cross and we made vague plans to make the hike"one day" up to the top.  In the meantime he injured his foot and I developed and infection and later a cracked rib (it would seem that I may actually be accident prone) so plans were put off.  This past weekend we decided that it was time to do the deed and agreed that today, which happens to be Good Friday, would be the day we would make it happen.  

John showing me the way

We planned to meet at the top of his dock at 7:30 a.m. when it would be cool and when, perhaps, we might avoid any crowds making a pilgrimage to the cross. We needn't have worried about the latter as we saw just a handful of Mexicans both coming and going. I dug out my hiking shoes the night before and filled a day pack with the requisite granola, banana, bottled water and, of course, a small camera. I set my alarm and on waking this morning made coffee for the captain, dressed  in jeans (to prevent the snakes I was sure we would encounter from inserting their fangs into my bare skin) and headed down the dock to meet John.
It was a lovely morning, as it is every day in La Paz, cool enough for light fleece and just a light breeze.  We met a few other cruisers and exchanged pleasantries then crossed the highway to find a dirt road which, we were told, would lead us to a trail head which we would recognize by the presence of an old mattress and box spring. Yup, we couldn't miss that lovely piece of refuse. We started up the trail which circled behind, then wound its way up the hill. We remarked that it appeared to be an easy climb on a well worn trail.
And it was a relatively easy climb. It did

The moon just above the cross as we near the top

get steeper, rougher and rockier as we approached midway of the climb, and while I began breathing a bit harder (ok, huffing and puffing) it was doable. I'm guessing it took us around 45 minutes to and hour to reach the top.  John kindly paused for brief rests and a drink of water the few times I did and didn't make a single sexist or ageist remark...for which he gets muchos points!

What a panorama behind me!

Reaching the top we agreed that both the view and the cross were worth the climb.  La Paz and the bay lay out before us with sparkling blue waters and the lovely malecon. While the cross was neither large nor impressive structurally it exuded a sense of the sacred and I watched as an Mexican gentleman approached it, genuflected and then crossed himself.

The view on the way down

We took pictures, had some snacks and water, and sat for a few minutes just taking in the scenery and the moment. Then we packed up and started down. Other hikers know well that, aside from the breathing thing, the downward trek can be harder on the joints and muscles than the upward hike. Not far from the top I slipped on gravel, despite my aforementioned hiking boots, and managed to land on one elbow and one shin. Nothing's broken or even hurts much, but I raised a weird hematoma on my leg. We arrived at the bottom less than three hours after taking off, and although I fully expect some sore muscles tomorrow it was a pleasurable hike and I'm so glad we did it.

I called the captain from the top and, using another camera, he took a picture of John and me waving to him on the dock below.  If you squint real hard you can see two tiny things to the left of the cross...maybe.  That would be us.
(If you double click on the above picture, then click again, you can actually see John and me at the top of the hill, somewhat to the left of the cross.  I'm the one with two arms raised =)

Semana Santa and Spring Break

From Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday, what is known as Holy Week in most Christian churches, is called Semana Santa here in Mexico. Most schools are closed for Semana Santa and the following week as well giving students a two week spring break. All but the largest stores are closed this week and many workers take their vacation at this time therby effectively closing down much of the city for the better part of two weeks. 
While Semana Santa is a sacred time with masses and religious parades throughout the week, it is followed by a nearly mass exodus to the beaches. 
For us it means that the captain had to plan ahead as best he could as he will not be purchasing hose clamps or brass fittings or just about anything else for the boat until sometime next week.  It means that the small fabricated piece of steel we've been waiting for will not be ready for ahwile and our bimini won't be completed until next week. For me it simply means that all of my specialty shopping (soy milk, bagels, whole wheat bread and chocolate chips, things only found in certain markets) needed to be purchased last week and yes, I'll be cooking most of our meals as many restaurants are closed.  None of these things present a problem of course; things just take a little extra planning.
So tomorrow, Good Friday, I will take time to hike with my friend John to the top of a nearby mountain which has a large cross visible from our marina.  It's a pilgrimage of sorts and a way to honor the day.

Number 11 and counting

 A personal note here; yesterday the captain and I were blessed with Ta Dum!...grandchild number eleven.  Dahlia Jean McCoy weighed in at 10 lbs., 4 oz. Looks like 8 for 8 in the redhead department! Congratulations to the McCoy family.

Cerveza!!

I wouldn't want anyone, friends or family, to think that we drink a lot of beer since we are retired in Mexico where "imported" beers we used to pay extra for in the States are now the least expensive. Really, we are quite judicious with our intake.  But yesterday morning as I was serving the captain a late breakfast, I actually popped the top of his favorite (Modelo Especial) instead of the requested diet Coke.  Now he doesn't usually drink Coke for breakfast, either, but we had taken an easy Sunday morning with coffee and the radio while lounging in bed and it was 10:30 before I cooked breakfast. I apologized for the mistake and went to the sink to pour out the beer.
"What the heck!" said the captain. "We're retired, we're in Mexico and a beer with my bacon and eggs sounds pretty good." And I guess it was. =)

No Complaints!

There are times when I am discouraged over the slow progress we are making in readying Milagro to sail blue water; captain Larry has a list of things to be accomplished and it sometimes seems that list is endless. Whenever I feel disheartened I remind myself of our friends and former next boat neighbors on Orontes II.  
This couple, like us, bought their dream boat here in La Paz and have spent many vacations over the past two years working on it.  Orontes II left LaPaz well over a month ago with a capable captain and first mate aboard. They were bound for Panama where the owners would meet the boat, take it through the Panama Canal, then sail her to her new home in Texas. We got news three weeks after departure that the boat's transmission had failed even before they departed Mexico. The crew and boat were stuck in a small port with less than adequate mechanics and a very limited supply of parts. After locals failed a number of times to repair the transmission, the owner flew in with parts and expertise and the crew flew back to La Paz. Today, more than six weeks after she left La Paz,  Orontes II's transmission is repaired and she is on her way.  A big hurray for S and L and Orontes II and prayers for fair winds and smooth seas and no more mechanical problems! 

Milagro: doing o.k.

Oh yes, we have had setbacks aboard Milagro, but none of this magnitude nor while at sea.
We'll just keep plugging along;  I'm pretty sure we're making progress because I hear the captain humming.  So with an attitude of gratitude I look to the future of a sailing Milagro!

Boat Names, Part I

Since moving to Florida some thirty years ago I have been fascinated by boat names.  At that time we had a 17.5 foot power boat which H named "Misty." Most of the rest of the family made fun of her choice,  but in the ensuing years I have seen so many bizarre and humorous names on boats that "Misty" seems a perfectly good name.
Some years later, when we had graduated to a larger power boat and then to a 36 foot sailboat I began to take inventory.  I am one of those strange people who travel down the highway mentally (not out loud, of course) reading signs and wondering about the names of cities and streets, so it was a logical step to move on to boat names. When we purchased the 36 foot Watkins we thought and thought about what to name her. The captain came home one day with a gleam in his eye and the perfect name: Seaduction! Get it? the clever misspelling of seduction? We were so proud of this cleverness.  Until we discovered umpteen other owners had cleverly thought up the same name; indeed it was top of the list of the ten most used boat names.  Color us deflated.
After that boat was either stolen or lost at sea (don't ask!) we purchased another boat (which we still own and which lives in Florida and which is for sale...hint, hint) which was named "Stray Dogs," a name painted in large script on the stern.  The captain just didn't like that name and after considering a long list supplied by books and friends, he decided that "Odyssey" fit the boat and its purpose. Turns out Odyssey as a boat name has  nearly as many fans as "Seaduction." Still, the captain applied for a change of name on the documentation. While awaiting the official papers he was out on the intracoastal one day; arriving at one of the many bridges in Fort Lauderdale  he called on the radio and requested an opening. A sweet young bridge tender came on the radio asking, in her soft southern drawl, "What is your vessel's name, Captain?" Using his most gravely pirate voice he replied, "Stray Dogs, ma'am."  The bridge tender responded with a giggle, and in such a playful, seductive manner that the captain made an instantaneous decision to rename the boat Stray Dogs. Even the thought going through the documentation process again could not deter him!
When we purchased our current boat, Milagro, we loved her name (which means miracle in Spanish) and really didn't consider calling her anything else.  The owner's wife and I were standing, chatting as we watched Milagro being hauled out of the water for the requisite bottom inspection. She said, casually, "You're going to change the name, aren't you?" " No, I replied. We love her name." The lady responded that that was their name and she would see about having something written in the agreement preventing us from using Milagro. "You can't do that," the spouse told her. Well, they still spend winters in La Paz where they are known as the old Milagro and we are called the new Milagro.  And they don't speak to us, which we find amusing. True, it doesn't take a lot to entertain us. More on other choice boat names, soon.
So what's in a name, you ask. apparently a lot.

Pizza

The captain and crew of Milagro have a special relationship with pizza.  The three of us, and Buddi is included in this group, love pizza.  Until moving to Mexico I operated under the theory that there is no bad pizza...just gradations of good pizza with some being a whole lot better than others.  That theory has been busted!
While living in the States, whether North Carolina, Florida or, for goodness sake, even in Tennessee, we always made it a priority to seek out the local pizza joints and try them out.  Sometimes the best pizza could be found in a little hole-in-the-wall place and other times the best we could do was a chain =(.  In Linden, Tennessee we had one choice (short of driving 90 miles to Nashville!) and although it was a very "American" version of this delicious Italian pie, we came to love it.  And we were such frequent visitors the young lady who took phone orders came to recognize the captain's voice and would ask, in a delightful drawl, "Will that be the usual, Mr. Roberts?"
Without a doubt the all time favorite pizza could be found at Villa Capri in Raleigh, N.C.  The captain had enjoyed this family run restaurant years ago in another life with another wife and I was privy to Villa Capri delights while a college student.  After we joined forces and discovered that we shared a love of pizza in general and the Villa Capri in particular...well, we knew it was a match made in heaven.
As we fast forward to our stay in Mexico it must be said: the tacos, arrachera, fish and ice cream may be fabulous but the Mexicans generally don't do a great job with pizza.  Early on we passed a little restaurant on the Malecon called Rin Rin (I mistakenly called it Rin Tin Tin and brought forth huge guffaws from other cruisers.) That pizza was horrible.  The crust was practically inedible and the sauce and meat highly questionable. We didn't go back but were often amazed that Rin Rin seemed to draw a crowd.  One night when waiting to see a movie at the mall, we decided to try Dominos, not a favorite but we thought it would at least taste like U.S pizza. We waited for what seemed an exceptionally long time, nearly missing our movie and were rewarded with a pizza that looked like a Dominos pizza and smelled like a Dominos pizza, but had enough hot sauce in it to burn our mouths and lips; and, just in case it wasn't spicy enough for us, there was an extra container of hot sauce on the side!

We've tried a few other pizza joints around the city and frankly none were worthy of a grade of "C" and some failed miserably.  Until last evening. After a long and frustrating week of working on the boat...still, we decided to head down town and try out Tony's Gourmet Pizza on a little side street just off the malecon.  There was one entire block dedicated to outdoor eateries of all kinds: a deli, a crepes place,  an ice cream parlor and several others including Tony's. What a surprise. We ordered our favorite toppings on individual pizzas with a glass of cabernet sauvignon for me and a Modelo Especial for the captain. The server and the cook were friendly and the pizza turned out to be good with a thin crust (which I enjoy and the captain likens to pizza on a communion wafer) and nice fresh toppings.  Like other pizza we've experienced here there is very little sauce but it was tasty, and this time the hot sauce was served only on the side.  We opted not to try it.
So I think we've found a place satisfy our pizza cravings.  Oh, and most important: they told us we can bring Buddi next time. That will put a smile on her beak!

Bay Fest

The ‘season” on the Baja California Sur coincides with what we know as the “season” in South Florida. So about this time each year many boaters are preparing to go north, either to spend the summer in the Sea of Cortez or to someplace cool in the States or in Canada. As we near the end of the season, Club Cruceros hosts Bay Fest, a three and a half day festival for boat people.  There are a lot of activities, something to please or interest just about anyone who owns or lives on a boat.  The centerpiece of the festival is the series of seminars on everything from jewelry making or how to handle medical emergencies at sea, to boat engine repair and care and feeding of water makers.

The festival opened Thursday evening with wine tasting on the promenade of one of the large hotels on the bay.  Boaters and others wandered among an arts and craft displays listening to classical music played by a flautist, followed by a brass quintet made up of students from the local music school and their teacher. A sailboat race called "the rock to the dock" ended within our view; what a beautiful sight as many sailors had their spinnakers out and the sun was low in the sky behind them. And me without my camera! After all, it’s difficult to take pictures and hold a wine glass at the same time.

The remaining three days of activities will be held at La Costa restaurant, a local business that is very friendly and cooperative with boaters general and Club Cruceros in particular.  The restaurant has seating right on the beach so all of the water  and beach activities could be viewed while having a cerveza under the palapa. There the club will hold seminars in the mornings and table game tournaments in the afternoon.  One can sign up for Mexican dominoes, bridge, cribbage or darts, or volunteer to play volley ball against a team from the Mexican Navy which has an installation nearby.  Additionally  there will be dinghy races which are guaranteed to draw a large crowd of fans as well as participants.

Last minute instructions before our "man" goes overboard

 I elected to  attend a “man overboard” session today which was informative and fun.  Fifteen students climbed aboard a 52 foot schooner and took it out into the bay for the drill.  After a short classroom lecture we got down to the serious business of saving someone. Our guinea pig “man overboard” turned out to be the woman who had played flute for us the prior evening; now that’s what I call being versatile! She suited up in her wetsuit (the bay water is still a chilly 72 degrees) and, five times in a row, jumped off the boat so others could practice the drill, taking turns at various positions. The captain and I have talked about procedures to follow during this and other emergency situations, but have never actually practiced them, so this was a very good, proactive experience for me. While I was out on the water the captain attended 3 sessions: outboard motor repair, refrigeration and  water makers. Knowledge is power!

The captain and others intent on a lecture

As I have been on the festival's fund raising committee for the past couple of months, I spent part of the day standing at the raffle table hawking tickets.  Proceeds above the cost of the festival will be divided among two charities this year. One half of the funds will go to Cruz Roja which supplies free ambulance service to all citizens of La Paz (even gringos!), while the other half goes to the local cancer clinic which provides medications (including chemotherapy drugs) free of charge to those who cannot pay.  Truly a win/win situation:  fun for all, education for the cruisers and pesos for two very deserving groups.

                                                               

AHHhhhhhhhhh......

Hot water at last. =)

Afternoon at the beach

On the way to Tecolote

Last Sunday, as a reward for completing some unsavory tasks and to escape from some obnoxious fumes, the captain and I decided to take Buddi and her backpack and head north to visit a couple of beaches. Balandra and Tecolote are favored by locals and  tourists alike and while we had seen them from the sea on our recent cruise, we hadn't had an opportunity to explore them by land.
The coastal road north is rough with numerous potholes in the "good" stretches and a lot of construction going on in other areas.  We made slow progress, partly because of the roadway conditions and partly because of the stunning views: La Paz Bay and the Sea of Cortez on one side and rugged mountains on the other.  The captain tried to ease off the road periodically to allow the cars behind us to pass as we paused to quietly reflect on the vista before us.
   And that brings me to another thought: we find that for the most part Mexican drivers are far more patient and tolerant than their American counterparts. It is rare to hear a honking horn or see a driver making a rude gesture.  Once in downtown La Paz I observed a driver make five or six tries at a parallel parking spot as other drivers waited patiently to pass and a bystander helped guide the driver into his space.  A friend mentioned recently that he had seen only one accident in La Paz since he arrived five months ago, and even then the two drivers just stood next to their vehicles and chatted while waiting for the police to arrive.

Tacos for two!

 But I digress. We arrived at Balandra and squeezed into a parking place in a deeply rutted dirt parking lot. We decided to put Buddi in her backpack as many dogs were wandering around, some on leashes and some loose. The first things we came to were a fresh coconut and pineapple stand and the ever-present taco truck. The captain ordered a couple of fish tacos for himself, cokes and a packet of cookies for me.  We sat at a small table and enjoyed the snacks then headed down to the beach.

Boys just wanna have fun!

Balandra seems to be a family oriented destination and we watched groups eating on the beach and playing in the water.  One large family (looked like four generations) walked over the sand dune carrying boxes and baskets of food, chairs and tables and even a rather large grill. Because the water is so shallow, barely knee deep clear across the bay, it is a great place for children to play, but big boys seem to enjoy it as well. One group of four guys had taken a table out into the water. They were standing around enjoying cold beer and just harvested chocolate clams drizzled with fresh lime juice.  The Mexican music on their boom box just added to the ambiance.
We spent the next hour or so walking the beach and stopping to chat with gringos, Mexicans and even one talkative Argentinian. Two Canadians sunning themselves on beach chairs in the water asked, "Why would you want to be anywhere else"? We couldn't think of a good reason! We walked back to the car, dusted off the sand and drove north the short distance to Tecolote.
Tecolote is very different from Balandra.  First of all it is about a half mile off the main road. As we drove in we saw several miles of tightly packed cars all backed
up as close as they could get to the water. The beach itself is quite rocky and waves were breaking on the beach. Unlike Balandra this beach was frequented by a younger, hipper set, most in their late teens and twenties.  There are a couple of restaurants there as well as a kiosk renting surf boards and kayaks. The music was loud as each car seemed to compete with those around it for the decibel award, and  dune buggies thundered over the sand.  It looked like a fun place and we would have stayed longer had we arrived earlier in the day.

On the way back to La Paz

We drove back to La Paz with the sun near the horizon; the vistas coming down the mountain were breathtaking as we looked west toward the bay. We often chide ourselves for not taking more time to visit places in this beautiful country.  Maybe after this latest project.....but then we want to sail!  So many beautiful places, so little time.

Am too working..

I am often amused when I hear a particular cruiser calling  out his boat name on the radio; invariably, someone calls back, "say what?"  The name of his boat is AM TOO  WORKING.  I get it! I know exactly why these people named their boat thus; they heard the following refrain way too many times: "Living on a boat... how much work can there be? You can't be working!"  And the boat owner replied, for the dozenth time, "Am too working!"
So bear with me for a bit of whining, understanding that I whine for the captain who really never whines himself.
Perhaps you've followed the saga of the hot water tank; at last writing the captain had a "few more" things to adjust before the big installation.  That was over a week ago and he has worked 8-10 hour days since then and still the hot water tank sits in a box on the dock.  There are really, really good reasons for this.

Michelangelo of the Bilge!

Once the leaky old hot water tank was removed the captain decided to do everything possible to prevent having to do a major job like this again.  So he spent days sanding and wire brushing  areas to be painted, then coated all wood areas with a foul smelling penetrating epoxy which required him to use a respirator and Buddi and me to be on the deck. About every five minutes I held my breath, ducked my head into the companionway, and yelled, "Are you o.k.?" Most of the time I could see only his feet and barely hear his reply as he spoke though the respirator. Next he painted metal surfaces with a silver paint which was pretty foul smelling as well and again made it necessary for Buddi and me to leave the area. Finally, he did the entire area in bilge paint which was only mildly foul smelling.  The end results are silver hands for the captain who "forgot" gloves one day, asthma for me and a beautiful shiny bilge.


Now we're into the wiring stage. A bachelor boater friend, John, is a retired boat electrician with time on his hands and knowledge to share.  For the past few days John has spent entire days here as he and the captain ran wires for the addition of two air conditioning units, a dive compressor, and an electric winch, then spent a full day straightening out a rat's nest of wires behind the hot water tank space.  It was an unbelievable exercise in expertise on John's part to reorganize the breaker panel box to accommodate all the new circuits and bring all the new additions up to code.  The captain says he is doing all of this work now as once the new tank is installed, reaching that area to work would be a gargantuan if not impossible task.
Just to make life interesting, while John and Larry work in the guts of the boat, Sergio the woodworker (not to be confused with Sergio the welder or Sergio the fiberglass man) is building a step in the head so my feet don't dangle as I use the newly installed Royal Crown II Raritan industrial strength turbo charged toilet. And Chava, the teak expert, is in the cockpit redoing caulking and resetting the bungs over the teak screws.  Yeah, I don't really know what that means, either, but I do know that it requires me to leap from the companionway to the deck to avoid stepping on the freshly laid caulk and epoxy. Oh, I almost forgot Hector the canvas guy (please don't confuse him with Hector the refrigeration guy) who periodically comes by to take measurements on the dodger and the bimini and get our opinion on sunbrella colors. Sometimes, folks, I simply huddle in my bunk coming out only for meals.
I think the end is in sight. Sigh....If we hadn't planned to attend a swap meet today in order to (hopefully) rid ourselves of extra stuff we either brought with us or took off the boat, we might actually take a hot shower on the boat tonight. Oh well, maybe tomorrow.  In the meantime, we'll just  make do with unshaven face and legs, add another layer of deodorant and hope to shower here tomorrow.