Ode to our Tour Guides...

Dennis and Susan Ross

When Larry and I traveled to La Paz together for the first time we met Dennis and Susan Ross, a couple who live aboard Two Can Play, a sailboat tied up three slips away from Milagro.  Dennis is a licensed boat surveyor and had been hired, at the suggestion of our broker, to perform the survey on Milagro. We immediately liked Dennis and his wife, Susan, but I was a bit concerned as it was obvious that they were well acquainted with Milagro's owners. I needn't have worried! Dennis and Susan turned out to be two of the most honorable, most knowledgeable, most generous people I know.
Also in yacht management, the Rosses agreed to oversee Milagro when we returned to Florida to complete our plans for emigration to Mexico. For nearly eight months they checked on Milagro and sent us regular, detailed reports on her condition.
We were very grateful for their dedication and professionalism, but when we finally moved on board in October 2009 we came to learn that that this was just the tip of the iceberg. Their knowledge of all things boats and boating is encyclopedic. I don't care what question you have for them, they either have the answer or will find the answer. And their knowledge is not limited to boats, boating in the area and boat maintenance. They are well-informed about La Paz from the best place to shop for boating needs to where to get a haircut, to how to find a doctor who speaks English and, probably most important to me, how to find your way among the crazy signless streets of the city. But best of all...they are always willing to share all this information.

Sitges

During my recent visit we made plans to join them for dinner and of course looked to them for suggestions. They recommended Sitges, a recent addition to La Paz; we went, no questions asked.

Everything looks good!

Susan told us that the cuisine at Sitges had a Spanish rather than Mexican influence. Like many local restaurants it was located in a beautiful old home. Despite the cool evening we chose to sit in the outside patio area. A fireplace was roaring as we sat down at our table, trees and stars overhead. We ordered a nice bottle of wine and took our time perusing the menu. I decided on baked fish dish served with rosemary potatoes. My meal was scrumptious and considering how quiet our table became, the others were equally as satisfied. The chef sent desert to go with our coffee, the perfect end to a perfect meal. The atmosphere, the service and the company made for a wonderful evening...so much so that we took our new Canadian friends there for dinner just two nights later!

Larry, Susan & Dennis, New Years Eve 2010

We can always count on Susan and Dennis to steer us in the right direction. 

Cucina de Maria

Unprepossessing  from the outside

 One of the pleasures of this recent stay in La Paz was the opportunity to revisit some of my favorite restaurants. I'm pretty sure Larry didn't mind going along!
First on my list...Cucina de Maria, a humble yet cozy little place that held sentimental meaning for both of us; this was where Larry ate his first meal in La Paz and where he took me for my first meal. Really just a covered alleyway between two nondescript buildings, Maria's still sports linen cloths and napkins on the tables and excellent service. We are both able to order breakfast in Spanish now which is a good thing as neither the staff nor the owner speaks English. The morning we ate there was cool but comfortable and tiny birds twittered and flew overhead. The coffee was hot, the food perfect.

Mmmmmmmmm...

 As we were finishing, a friendly woman sat down near us, her dog doing a perfect "sit,stay" on the sidewalk. She was a fellow gringo and when we discovered we had a mutual friend living in La Paz she warmed up and told us the story of how she came to be here. Perhaps it's true of any countrymen meeting in a foreign country or maybe she was just lonely, but she seemed to want to share her story with us. We learned she and her husband had first come here as a cruisers from the west coast years before, and continued to return each year. Her husband, she told us, could not tolerate the hot desert summers so they had gone north every spring. When he  passed away this past year she decided to move here full time and she bought a house. She missed companionship and sought to fill an empty space by adopting  a dog. She found her new friend at La Paz Dogs, a rescue organization run by American ex-pats. The pup appeared to be healthy and happy and looked at her with  adoring eyes that said everything.

Happy and FULL!

In Mexico your table in a restaurant is considered "rented" for the duration. The waiter will never bring you your check until you ask for it which means people can, and often do, linger for hours over a cup of coffee, never once being bothered by a waiter unless he is there to offer more coffee. So that morning we talked for a long time and then said goodbye to our new friend, leaving Maria's with a,"Muchas gracias,". and plans to return soon"

Our waiter between the two cooks - Maria is seated to the rear

Not enough time

Aboard Milagro

The next six days went by way too quickly. Still, it was good to have some time to discuss future plans without distractions and other responsibilities and obligations. I had been certain that I was doing the right thing by giving Larry the freedom to follow his dream, to sail around the world or at least to New Zealand. A year ago I simply could not see myself sailing for weeks or months, perhaps being sick much of the time, facing wild storms or doldrums, always at the mercy of the sea and weather systems. I knew that lack of honest enthusiasm on my part would diminish Larry's pleasure in the adventure  And quite honestly I had been missing the family connection: I watched grandchildren grow up in pictures on facebook, unable to be present at special moments in their lives. I wanted to leave some positive mark in this world and I was pretty sure it would never be  as a world-class sailor! At the time it seemed the proper choice for both of us and we were at peace with the decision for me to return to the States and him to return to the sea.
I believe I can speak for Larry when I say that although we went our separate ways for awhile we both came to the same conclusion: we belong together.
 So we talked and in between talks we worked on a few projects that needed our attention. Larry fixed the shower sump and I polished steel above deck and teak below. Occasionally we played hooky and watched a movie in the middle of the day. And we managed to make time for some great meals, time for good friends, and especially, time for each other.

Mike with his auto harp

On Tuesday evening we invited a fellow cruiser, Mike, for dinner and music. Mike was to have 6 teeth removed by a local dental surgeon on Wednesday and I thought it would be nice to distract him with a home-cooked meal and some entertainment. Larry grilled steak and vegetable kabobs and we had baked potatoes and fresh steamed broccoli and some of those delicious bakery rolls one finds in the larger groceries. After dinner we went up on deck, Larry with his guitar and Mike with his auto harp. My cello was back in the States, but I was looking forward to being a listener. We were soon joined by several other cruisers and the guys played well into the night. Our new friends and and next boat neighbors, Kim and Harvey, joined us and Harvey borrowed

Harvey plays and sings a beautiful song in Russian

Larry's travel guitar. He was apologetic about his musicianship but surprised us by being excellent player with a fine voice. The music ran the gamut from Woody Guthrie to the Eagles. Larry had a new favorite, a Gillian Welch tune called "Dear Someone," which he played (for practice, of course) each time a newcomer came aboard. We all laughed when he offered to play the song for the 4th or 5th time but it was truly beautiful.

Even the dog was appreciative

We had a splendid evening and  parted after 10:00 with a promise to take Mike to his appointment the next day and to meet Kim and Harvey for dinner later that week.

In the meantime 2

As I write this part of the story I am back in North Carolina, reviewing notes I made weeks ago, and wishing I were back on board Milagro with Larry. We talk almost daily and I know that he is working very hard and could use my help.
In just the past few days he has had people aboard working on Milagro's counter tops which definitely needed a face lift. While that mess is going on (think white dust everywhere) Larry is cleaning and painting under the main bunk, readying the area for the new auto pilot, and running wires for an electric winch.  I know I am a good "scrub nurse," finding and bringing him tools as he needs them. I can also make sure he eats, something he often forgets (or just doesn't take time) to do. And of course I can take care of household duties, laundry, cleaning shopping, etc. And maybe most important, be ready with hugs and back rubs at the end of the day. I know there are women out there, even some of our children!, who think that being that kind of partner is old-fashioned. One of the pluses of aging is not giving a happy hoot what others think!

Anyway, all of these thoughts make me wish, fervently, that I were there right now; I'm working on  making that come true...sooner rather than later.
 I miss the sunsets, too.

Reality check

Everything below decks needed to be cleaned.

We were exhausted and slept well into the next day. When we finally awakened it was obvious that the kitchen fairy had not cleaned up the mess in the galley. We decided to head up to the Dinghy Dock, again, for lots of coffee and an big breakfast.  Mmmmmm..chilaquilles! Now armed with a belly full of good Mexican food and a better attitude it was time for the clean-up. Division of duty was easy: he'd work on salt removal on the outside and I'd try to make order out of chaos on the inside.  The first thing I did was gather up all of the saltwater soaked items that needed washing. That meant all of the clothing worn in the past few days as well as everything from the forward bunk and sheets and comforter from our bed. We had been too tired to do more than drape towels over wet areas on our bunk the night before.
 (Note to Captain: resealing  hatches was a job to be pushed to the top of the to-do list.)
I stuffed all of the wet items into a huge plastic bag and dragged it up the companionway and tossed it out on the dock; laundry would be an afternoon job. Then I started in the galley picking up shards from a broken dish, rearranging items that had shifted, washing dishes and wiping down all of the teak with orange oil. From there I just moved through boat, trying to put everything back where it belonged. While I was  cleaning below Larry was working hard on the deck, giving everything, even the sails and lines, a fresh water scrubbing.
By mid-afternoon it was at least liveable below deck and I packed up everything needed to wash the clothing and linens which by now were noticeably stinky! I appealed to Larry's manly side to help me take everything to the laundry room as the tide was low and the dock ramp at a steep angle. I took my Kindle with me and, after filling 4 large washers, sat down to read and relax a bit. A couple of hours later I felt rested and had clean, dry, folded laundry; I headed back to dock five.

Next we man(woman)-handled the mattress from the forward bunk, pulling and pushing it out on to the the now clean foredeck for a good drying. I put  away the laundry and made up our bunk (an aerobic exercise all by itself). After a good day's work it was time for a bite to eat, and relaxation...and a Tarzan marathon. One of our daughters had given Larry DVDs of the original Johnny Weissmuller/Tarzan films, the first of which was filmed in 1936. What fun! We had enjoyed some these films years before on TV. We cackled as Jane dove from a 50 foot tree to be caught, with no apparent effort, by Tarzan.
Black and white films, popcorn, Modelo and the Captain by my side: my idea of a perfect evening. Then, on to sweet dreams knowing there was more work on tomorrow's agenda.

Onward

Now it is mid morning and we begin the slow turn into the Cerralvo Channel. Both Larry and I are punchy: I've had a couple of brief cat naps but all he has had are brief moments of closing his eyes between waves. So no real sleep for either of us in over 24 hours. At this point in time my mind is a little fuzzy, and any who know me at all know that I am "directionally challenged" under the best of circumstances. Still, I look at the GPS and feel certain that this change of direction will at least ease the rocking.  So wrong.

We have a brief respite as we move into the channel. Then it begins. The winds rise to 33 knots and and we are pushed along by a following sea of 10 foot swells. When I turn around I can see each swell rise well above the stern mounted tower. We are making about 6 knots and all we can do is hold on - for over 18 miles. It's not fun but neither is it awful. And this is a grand awakening for me. Long-time sailors will recognize that our trip doesn't begin to compare with passages having, say, 25 foot waves and 50 knot winds. But it did give me a feeling for what a difficult passage might include. When I consider the fabulous sights it has been my privilege to see while sailing on Milagro I believe it is worth it.
Still, it seems to take forever to get to the northern tip of Cerralvo. The sky is quite hazy and every time I look out to the starboard I think I see the "end" of the island, but a half hour later the island continues to rise out of the sea.

Eventually we pass through the Lorenzo Channel and it is a mere 2-3 hours to the Marina. The winds and seas have diminished and we take time to lower the sails and begin to motor towards home. I have never come into Palmira after dark; everything looks so different and I am on the bow searching for the green and red buoys that mark our way to the marina. We call neighbors on our radio and ask them to be available to handle lines. As we motor slowly towards our slip Larry turns Milagro deftly; the bow swings around, I hand off lines to people on the dock and he puts the engine into reverse...uh oh...there is no reverse. One of the marina workers and another friend are on hand and everybody scrambles to tie lines off to the dock cleats and pull Milagro into place. Quick work by one handler prevents Milagro from crunching the dock with her bow. A couple of days later we send a diver down to check the prop; he finds the jib halyard firmly wrapped around the prop shaft. We now know how very fortunate we were to have forward motion and be able to motor at all!
When Larry flew small airplanes a couple of decades ago he told me, "Any landing you walk away from is a good landing." No doubt about it, we had a good landing!

Milagro at dock

We tied up the boat properly and all I wanted to do was to fall into bed - no shower, no teeth brushing, no food. Larry was hungry; I wasn't but he coaxed me into walking with him to the Dinghy Dock restaurant at the head of the our dock. I went reluctantly. I don't usually step outside without a fair amount of personal grooming but that evening (it was nearly 9:00) I stumbled through our security gate and into a restaurant chair, still in my foul weather pants and and a salty velour jacket, ordered a fettuccine alfredo and a glass of red wine and, to my extreme surprise, proceeded to polish off my meal.

Dinghy Dock reflects boats in Palmira

Then it was back to the boat where I had to brush my teeth. We knew that the entire deck was coated in sticky salt crystals and now found some areas dreched below decks as well. Items were strewn all over despite the attention I had given to securing all doors, drawers and loose items before departure. But clean-up was for another day. Thirty-two hours after leaving Palmira and having not slept in 36 hours, we fell into bed, still feeling the rocking of the boat which was no longer rocking, and slumbered peacefully.

January 29, 2012

In the meantime....

Things I learned in the last few years that I wish I'd understood years ago:

Nothing entitles me to judge others, not even walking a mile in their moccasins.

Only when I have compassion for myself, a willingness to accept my own shortcomings, will I be able to have compassion for others.

Love, the real thing, is all forgiving.

It's okay to love people and not necessarily love everything they do.

I can be lonely even when surrounded by people.

On a lighter note, the concept of animals having souls may be up for grabs, but I know I have loved my pets and I believe, absolutely, that they loved me back.

 Other thoughts at another time...

Sailing to Mazatlan...Not

A little warmer, a little happier, a little earlier in the trip

  So here we are 8 hours into a 40 hour, 2 night passage. Things are not great, but the wind and seas (according to weather reports) should be diminishing and we'll be able to take turns on watch. So we sail on looking forward to better conditions. The sky darkens and the Captain looks like he is settled in for a long watch as I stretch out in the cockpit, wearing the shorts and tank I put on this morning, plus a jogging suit, my full-body motorcycle suit from my biker days, topped with my never been worn, super duper foul weather gear.  It is cold and every 45 seconds cold seawater washes over me. But at least I am down out of the wind unlike Larry who is spending every second steering Milagro to keep her on course, fighting the wind and the waves.
It was a long night and I was not much help as my sea sickness continued unabated.  My stomach was empty and I was somewhat concerned that I had been unable to keep down medication I take daily to regulate my heart. Well, nothing to be done about that.

It was a long, long night. At one point I marveled at the mental picture of this relatively heavy sailboat being tossed about like a toothpick. And yet, in the midst of unrelenting winds and seas, a miracle: I looked up between the dodger and the mainsail and, although it felt as though we were in the midst of a storm, the skies were clear and the stars absolutely spectacular. I have sailed at night before but never so far from land and ambient light. I could make out many of my beloved constellations, their major stars shining brilliantly in the coal black sky. And amid the those stars millions of other, less bright stars. I saw Orion, crystal clear, wearing a milky way-like robe. Magnificent! Obviously, my words cannot do justice. I wanted to take pictures but two things, the rocking of the boat and an unwillingness to drench my camera, prevented that. Ahh, but the pictures in my mind are there forever and easily made the trip worthwhile.
We sailed on through the night and finally dawn arrived. By then I was, although somewhat bruised and battered, feeling a bit better; however, conditions had not improved, may have even gotten worse. The Captain made the decision to turn around. I did not want him to make that decision based on my condition but he was convinced (and later proven correct) that conditions were not going to improve. He kindly made the decision his so I would not feel bad.
 So, amid the waves and the wind, we tacked, not an easy job in light conditions, and at one point, with Larry working the sails and me at the helm, a halyard pulled loose from the winch. By the time Larry retrieved it we were both concerned it may have gotten caught in the engine prop which was running barely above idle. We finally turned Milagro and began retracing, or trying to retrace our trail.  We were relieved to find the engine running well.
At no time did it feel as though we were in any danger. We were heeled at a pretty steep angle and the rocking was endless but not scary. Still, the sea was relentless and had worn us down; this was supposed to be a fun trip.
I thought, erroneously, that turning around would ease our discomfort, but our chosen heading caused us to be attempting, and of course failing, to sail directly into the wind. The course we were forced to take would put us going through the Cerralvo Channel rather than taking us north of the island. We had heard that this area, because of the funneling of wind between the mountains, could be challenging but the only other choice was to duck into Bahia de Los Muertos, and would put us arriving well after dark in an unknown port. We chose the Cerralvo Channel.

January 29, 2012

Back again...

"BS" ..before sickness

I must apologize for the off again, on again nature of this blog. There were some privacy issues which have been resolved and I would now like to record, at least for my own amusement and satisfaction, the events of my recent trip to Mexico. So if you are interested...
Let's see, I left off... ah yes, leaving for Mazatlan.
We had checked the weather carefully for a couple of days before setting out, particularly Buoy Weather which is supposed to give boaters accurate, real time weather. All predictors stated that the current Norther was diminishing and that winds and seas would calm to a pleasant 15 knots and 1 to 3 feet, respectively. Perfect.
We left the Marina around noon on the 28th and motored towards Lorenzo Channel then on past Isla Cerralvo. The seas were a bit choppy and the wind above 15 knots but at least we would be able to sail, and that was the experience we were both looking for, albeit for different reasons. As we approached the northern tip of Cerralvo and set a Southwest course, the winds picked up dramatically and we had a quarter following sea with swells of easily 5 to 6 feet. Ordinarily swells are fairly comfortable and non-threatening as they tend to rather gently lift and drop the boat, not unlike a rocking chair.  But when they come from the aft quarter it tends to make a boat, even a full-keel sailboat weighing 44,000 lbs., wallow...Get the picture? As we are being propelled forward at a steady 7 knots the boat continuously rocks significantly from side to side: this, my friends, is the perfect storm for sea sickness - enfermedad del mar, le mal de mer - unpleasant in any language
Without going into lurid detail let me just say that I have I have found a way to lose 5 pound in 36 hours.

Still, I was feeling pretty positive, yes positive. Sea sickness can be overcome.  Our friend Dennis tells me, after the fact of course, that there is a terrific anti-sea sickness med which can be purchased in Mexico; it has no known side effects (doesn't even make you sleepy) and seems to be one hundred percent effective.  And if THAT doesn't work, I am told be long-time sailors that one gets over it eventually.  And after all, it's not life-threatening although I confess there may have been occasions when I seriously considered death a good option.
The thing I have always feared most is, well, fear. And while I was miserably uncomfortable and not much of a first mate, I wasn't afraid.
I went below a few times to use the head (got thrown out of it one time  - not hurt and still able to laugh at what must have been a truly funny sight!)  and to grab some sustenance. Larry chose white covered Oreos and I opted for saltines and water, water, water. One time, as I was holding on to the railing in the companionway, a large wave hit us and I was thrown down several stairs and onto my back to our cabin.  Again, good news; I ended up with some ginormous bruises but nothing broken, a sure sign to me that osteoporosis has not set in since my last bone density test.
And just to make the trip more interesting, around dusk the auto pilot quit working and,  between dropping temperatures and cold sea water covering the entire deck with each wave, we were both grabbing every possible piece of warm and/or waterproof clothing we could find.

Ahh, but more about that next time... 

January 28, 2012

Temporarily suspended =(

Music aboard Milagro

Hope to  be back in awhile...