A Costa Rican Christmas

We broke one of the cardinal rules of cruising before we even left the dock, by making a rendezvous date four months in the future, halfway through our cruise. It's been in the back of our minds the whole time. We've met so many old salts along the way who have given us a wary look when we told them of our plans. Bending to the will or plans of others is not something that a lot of cruisers deal with well. Some have left family and hometown behind for a life far away and have never looked back. Some haven't, some sail for a few months and return to a life; family, friends, appointments and work seamlessly. But most are enjoying the freedom to dilly and dally as long as they want in one region or another, not hurried by anything.

I haven't lived near my family in about ten years, but at least I've been in the same country most of the time. Amanda's been away from hers for about six years. We make it home for either Thanksgiving or Christmas or sometime in January once a year. There was one stretch where I didn't make it home for about two years. It's something I'd like to work on, spending more time near family.

Well, I think it's a silly rule, this no making plans or schedules. It kept us moving along, we'd need to be somewhere in Costa Rica anyhow if we were planning to hit the East Coast in May. The two weeks leading up to Christmas we were doing some serious moving and we weren't having the best wind for the desired direction of travel. Our schedule had us moving when the weather wasn't perfect, a potentially dangerous situation or one with an expensive diesel bill. Lots of headwinds near the Gulf of Fonseco and lots of adverse currents off El Salvador and the Nicoya coast. We'd get a few hours of sailing in the right direction and end up with the engine running the rest of the day with no wind. We made it though, dropping the hook in Bahia Ballena on the 23^rd. We mostly worked on a few boat jobs and tidying up till Amanda's mom and Al flew in on Christmas morning. Can't have mom showing up to a messy boat.

I can't say that this was the happiest I'd ever seen Amanda, but as we walked to the airport to meet up she was pretty excited. After hugs and rental car delivery we headed up a wild dirt road to our home for the next week. The house looks out over the bay, so we could keep an eye on the boat and weather. A swimming pool, full kitchen, huge veranda, settled right in the jungle...pretty awesome spot.

The first two nights we were anchored in the bay had been dead calm, barely enough breeze to get down the wind scoop and cool the cabin. There were also two other cruisers anchored near us, Indian Summer and Sunday. We'd let them know we planned on leaving the boat for the night and they assured us they'd keep an eye on everything. We'd heard of a few thefts of dinghies in Costa Rica, so we stowed everything from the deck down below, including the outboard and used every cable lock we had on the dinghy, also stowing it underneath the boom. We woke up the next morning and I spied on the anchorage with a telescope. There was definitely a breeze from the North, but we appeared to be in the same spot relative to the other boats, this was at about 6:30. Amanda woke up shortly afterward and asked me how the boat looked, I said things looked good but went to take another peek. Focusing on the anchorage in the early morning glint, hmmmm... Liberte was not where she had been. I spotted her about a hundred yards further south, riding in the building wind chop, this was around 7:15. I called up Indian Summer, who said that we had drug anchor but that John and Gill had hopped on and let out extra rode and our second anchor, and that Liberte was holding in about 17' of water. I let Amanda know what had happened and we started getting ready to go down the mountain to secure our gal. We both felt nervous and worried and a tiny bit ashamed. After spending four months onboard, anchoring all over the place in all kinds of conditions our anchor hadn't popped out once. We were actually quite proud at how much better we'd gotten at the whole procedure. The one night we decide to spend away from the boat and she almost ends up on a muddy lee shore. Yikes. We feel pretty indebted to Indian Summer and Sunday for saving our behinds and all the other help and info they gave us while in Bahia Ballena.

We moved Liberte over to the north side of the bay and anchored her again, a bit closer in than the other boats and well out of the wind, also sending down a 40 lb Danforth as a kellet after setting the anchor again. The weather has stayed relatively calm the rest of the week. We spent the next two nights on Liberte and the next two after that up at the house. It's been an awesome week here with Deb and Al, visiting Montezuma for a waterfall hike, and Mal Pais and the Cabo Blanco preserve to help me get a surfing fix. Sharing relaxing mornings and delicious dinners with family was the best Christmas present we could hope for this year.

When we got here, I'd been dealing with problems with our electrical system, engine cooling system and random other things breaking for a good week. I was ready for a respite. Taking a week off of boat work and having some fun has rejuvenated us. We're ready to tackle our boat repairs, get things up and working again and head off in search of more pura vida.

On another note, we've felt quite secure as far as theft goes here. Some folks we met along the way seemed scared to death of Costa Rican thieves. We talked to the folks at the kayak rental spot on Playa Pochote in the north end about security, and left out dinghy there a few times, once overnight for 5000 colones. We also left the dink and kayak under the trees to the west of the yacht club locked up and had no problems. We're sure that theft can happen anywhere and anytime to anyone, but Bahia Ballena has been a safe spot so far and we recommend it to anyone headed this way. Some boats we'd met planned on using the facilities at the Costa Rica Yacht Club in order to do some inland travel. With a buddy boat around I would consider Bahia Ballena a much more inexpensive option.

A Christmas Miracle

Yesterday, we sat drifting a few miles off the coast of the Nicoya Peninsula (Costa Rica). We were dead in the water, literally. There was no wind and a hole in our engine. Major problems. About 50 miles from the spot that we were to rendezvous with my mom and her beau. We'd sailed overnight from Tamarindo, actually had a nice breeze for a lot of the way. But we started the engine when Chris was taking over the watch at 2 am and water gushed out of a crack. What the...???

Well, we coasted along slowly until dawn. Chris mashed some epoxy-clay stuff into the hole and waited for it to dry, waited for daylight, waited for a miracle. He was entirely unconvinced that it would hold. I slept.

At dawn, I woke up, we started the motor and waited for another gush. It never came; the fix held. We motored the rest of the way as it was calmer than a Quaalude. After dropping the anchor, we breathed what was, for me, one of the biggest sighs of relief of my life. We wouldn't be stranding my mother. We'd get Christmas hugs and be with family and that is just about the best thing I can imagine.

Our troubles aren't over, and they will still cause many a headache but we've gotten a bit of a reprieve. As Chris says, we just need to have a little fun. Or a lot.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Photos....

Lighthouse and statue outside Corinto, where we stopped for a night.

Tiny, tiny bananas!!!!!!!

WaaaaaaaaaZZZZZZuuuuuuuPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!

A Sailfish, or Pez Vela; a big fight but no dinner.

Dave.

A Real Doozy

Just about everyday out here something amazing happens. A great sail or surf or dive, spotting some wild looking bird, dolphins and whales and turtles, meeting someone and sharing a moment, all kinds of goodies. There's lots of mundane stuff, too. Chores and boat-work and repairs and all that junk. While we were in Bahia del Sol I had one of the more chaotic experiences of my life. A real doozy.

We'd finished all the chores in the first few hours on the dock. Amanda wasn't feeling so hot so I thought I'd get out of her hair and see if I could find some surf. One of the guides we have mentions surf on both sides of the entrance channel and on the bar. Bahia del Sol is an estuary, with a navigable opening, only really accessible to slow, deep sailboats at a high slack tide. Lots and lots of water moving in and out with the tides. When I got out to the channel and bar I wasn't really impressed with what I was seeing. Jumbled waves everywhere, not a lot of form to them, and they were popping up all over the place, making paddling into the right spot seem impossible. I noticed a few sets that looked better breaking a bit farther out and headed that way. After watching more waves that didn't look all that good and noticing how strong the current was I had mostly given up on getting in the water. Mother Nature had plans for me though. I hadn't seen any waves breaking in the spot I was, but either I drifted or a bigger set came in. About 30' away was a wave, headed right for me, stacking up and starting to curl. I tried to outrun it, make some space between us, hoping that I'd just get rushed along in the white water after it broke. Not my luck, caught up, flipped over, swamped in the surf, not good.

First I grabbed the surfboard and put on the leash so I didn't lose it and would have it to paddle in if I had to. Next I got on top of the upside-down dinghy, briefly I was reminded of it being similar to being in an upside down car. The engine had been gunned when I flipped and had screamed “WWWWaaaaaaaaaaaa” for about five seconds while upside down before cutting out. I was able to get hold of a line attached to the transom, loop it through the rope rail around the middle of the boat and flip it right-side up by standing and pulling on the far side. I got in and started rowing like hell. I didn't make it very far when another wave flipped me again. The adrenaline was definitely pumping now. This happened two more times before I had moved far enough in that only smaller waves were hitting me and not quite flipping me now, just giving me a wild ride. Then, salvation...a panga with three guys in it came close by and got me in tow. I'd resigned myself to a really long row to the beach and an even longer walk back to the marina to get someone to help me tow the dinghy there. I've never been so happy in my life than when I saw that dirty fishing boat.

The rest of the day involved taking apart and cleaning the carburetor and various other parts of the outboard, changing the oil and spark plug, feeling like a dummy, explaining my idiocy to Amanda, and feeling a little bit of triumph when the engine started right up with a puff of smoke and ran fine. I gave the guys who helped me some cash and a gallon of gasoline that they needed. They helped me big-time and I tried my best to let them know how grateful I was.

The whole thing was about five minutes of chaos. I lost the dinghy anchor, a portable VHF radio, the cowling to the outboard and my hat, all easily replaceable. The most poignant feeling I can recall from the whole thing was when the wave had flipped me and I came to the surface; I'd gone so long without really messing something up bad, and right then I knew I'd messed up pretty bad. My judgment had seriously failed me. I still felt it the next day, but its starting to fade now and I'm sure that soon my mojo will return. I'm a tiny bit grateful for Amanda's cold, she could have been hurt if she'd gone along. She bangs herself up enough just bumping into things on the boat, the last thing she needs is to be flipped over in one.

Video View!

The first video here is of one of the last fish we caught, off the coast of Nicaragua. I knew it was something big when I heard the reel pay out like it did, and then as soon as I made it to the top of the steps I saw it jump. Amanda was a bit beside herself and didn't think we could land it. It put up a serious fight, jumping and running this way and that. A few fun facts, sailfish can reach speeds of 63 MPH, and they grow 4 to 5 feet in their first year of life. I've never seen such anamazing fish. We were able to release it fairly easily once we'd gotten it alongside. A crazy experience, but...no dorado, no dinner.

I've been collecting surf clips for a while now in the hopes of putting together something more substantial. Here's a short compilation of clips from Cronkite and Ralph's in California, and a few of the small but perfect waves we found at San Juanico, Baja.

Sweet dance numbers

Are you lookin' at me? Are you talkin' to me?!?

Greetings from lovely El Salvador!

We are tied up at a dock for the first time in so many moons. Actually, just about two moons, but it feels like longer. Time has started to warp, people. Here at the Bahia del Sol Hotel, Marina and Casino (I doubt this last one, because I have seen neither chip nor playing card since we've arrived) we are relaxing and refueling after we were blown just a leeetle too far off course by a leeetle too much wind.
Yesterday Chris got into a leeetle mishap in our trusty dinghy and ended up with wounded pride and a dunked outboard engine. Luckily, we took to the ever-wise internet for advice, and Chris managed to get the soggy thing up and running in no time. Unfortunately in the process a bolt sheared off and the engine was leaking a leeetle oil. The internet, though again wise in its advice couldn't provide us with the tools that we needed, so we went for a more local solution. Across the estuary from the marina is a jack-of-all boats we'd heard of named Santos, so we tried to hail him on the radio. No luck, but a fellow yachtie heard our call and informed us that Santos was in San Salvador for the day, but his dad, Santini worked on outboards and could probably give us a hand. We headed over and Santini got to work while Chris assisted in his leeetle shop. Santini's granddaughter was there too, but she just played with the pet parakeet and stared quietly at us. And then she bossed around her brother. She let Chris put the bird on his finger, but only for a minute.
We were out of the shop in about a half and hour, and it cost $15. Can't beat that kind of service!

We debated going into Zacatecoluca, which is the nearest town of size, but it is a 1.5 hour busride, and we just couldn't work up the will to do it, so for the rest of the day we stayed around the marina to watch the spectacle that was going down. This is what happened: there was a film crew from the TV station and at least four or five musical acts that were shooting videos here - at the hotel, around the docks, etc. There were coordinated outfits, cordless microphones and video hoochie girls. There was a full band with horns and conga drums, but they weren't really playing. There were choreographed dances and lots of gyration. There were tight white jeans and a lot of hair product. Then there was a guy who looked like a latino Danny McBride. We weren't really sure where he fit in. It was awesome, in the literal sense of the word.

We went to dinner at a local comedor for pupusas, which are like the national food of El Salvador. YUM! Deeeelicious. I had two, Chris ate five because he is hollow. We had dinner with some other folks anchored out here (and Santos!) and we had two "small world" moments. 1. The couple on one boat is from the same town as two of my best friends and knew one of their fathers. 2. Chris thought the other man there (also a cruiser) looked really familiar, and eventually realized that he had helped de-water and towed his boat while in the Coast Guard.

Woah.

Tomorrow we are off again...bound for Costa Rica!

Everything is okay

If only there were more time, if only we weren't in such a hurry, if only we could just cruise for a few more years. Job...family...responsibilities...oh my! We have scooted on out of Mexico and are now headed for Costa Rica, with a few stops along the way. Our last stop in Mexico was in Puerto Chiapas, 16 miles from the border with Guatemala. I won't expound much on it's beauty, but I'll just say that we didn't do any snorkeling in the water in Puerto Chiapas. It's a commercial port which caters to a shrimping fleet and is dredging for a new marina. Combine shrimp and fish processing with freshly pumped dredge spoil, a lovely odor. The fuel pier was so high and scabby we just lugged jerry cans back and forth with the dinghy. After doing the paperwork cha cha again, paying a few arbitrary fees and visiting the airport for Immigration, we got our national exit Zarpe. We were also boarded by the Navy twice, once when we arrived and once before leaving. Nice guys and a pleasant experience, but if I had come alongside and boarded a boat in San Francisco Bay with the Coast Guard and had smeared bunker oil all over their hull from my boat, I would have lost my head. Their panga was covered in super sticky oil and dirt, so we ended up with another task before leaving. All in all, a working port call.

Favorite spot in Mexico...hmmmmm...San Juanico, with it's isolated, perfect surf. That's my pick and I'm sticking to it. Even though we spent a week anchored there surfing everyday, I could have stayed a month. One of these days I'd like to wrangle some folks into a truck and drive down there, camp in the sand for a few weeks.

There was a feeling of having missed so much as we left, you could cruise this coast for quite a while and not discover it all. But, no time for regrets or to dilly dally, we have a Christmas rendezvous with Amanda's mom in Costa Rica. I don't think I can explain how much we're looking forward to dropping the hook, and leaving it down for over a week. We've been doing some serious rambling over the past weeks and the idea of being a bit more sedentary is very attractive. I feel weird writing sedentary.

Our most notable experience of late was getting caught in a gusty blow off the coast of Guatemala. After leaving Puerto Chiapas we had a nice breeze out of the west that lasted about 8 hours. After that we motored for a while and the next afternoon a wind came up out of the northeast. It was a bit of a headwind, so we were being pushed a bit offshore. Not a problem since our ideal destination was Puesta del Sol, Nicaragua. It was Amanda's watch when we first set sail and when I came up after a nap the wind had veered more to the east and picked up a bit. We talked about what to do, coming about and tacking and heading backwards didn't make much sense, so we kept on. Well, the next 12 hours were interesting. The wind picked up and was steady at 35 knots, gusting to over 45. We were making more south progress than east, even though we were sailing as close as we could to the wind. The seas built to about 12 feet, which wasn't too bad, except they kept getting blown over into the cockpit. I steered for 5 hours before I locked the wheel and went below. Amanda had been sleeping like a baby through all of this, dreaming away...just kidding. She had her hands full keeping the cabin together and the bilge pump going. It was a long night, hard over the whole time, lots of water on deck. Around 8 in the morning we got the jib down and replaced it with a much smaller one, which got me another drenching while perched on the bowsprit hanking on the sails. At one point I had just sat down on the platform and was opening a shackle to put on the new sail, the bow fell, then rose so fast I ended up popping up to my feet in a moment of no gravity, it was a bit wild up there. About an hour after that the wind fell to about 10 knots and we were left wet and frazzled. Nothing was broken, no one was hurt, in the words of the Mexican Navy after the boarding “Everything is okay.”

Pictures from Puerto Escondido

You couldn't hear the chaos from way up here

Mermaids ride turtles here...I saw 'em, really!

Chris and I take a walk on PE's paseo

The mercado municipal de Puerto Escondido...

In the chocolate shop...my face went in there...in my dreams

We took the whole thing.

Green jelly on one side, some sort of nut product on the other...

two points to whoever can tell us what this stuff is!

Forecast Schmorecast

So we're waiting for a weather window through the Gulf of Tehuantepec. Since we've been out here we've had our ears to the ground about the weather. We used the NOAA broadcasts in the states, our SSB receiver to (sort of) hear the nets and their weather observations and forecasts, and info from the internet whenever we can get to it. The web offers as much data and as many sources as we want, so I prefer to try to use it when we can. We use a forecasting site,buoyweather.com, that will give you an extended forecast for anywhere in the world on the water. One thing we've learned about forecasts is that they are just that, guesses, a shot in the dark at old mother nature. We've seen forecasts for 30 knots of wind and 10 foot seas when there hasn't been a breath or a ripple on the ocean, and we've seen unexpected gusts when well paid and well educated meteorologists saw nothing to worry about.

So this gulf of Tehuantepec thing, or Tehuantepeckers, its basically strong North winds coming over the lower landmass of southern Mexico and heading out to sea. These winds are funneled down to the ocean over low mountains and passes and increase in velocity when hitting the ocean. Caused by high pressure systems that move into the Gulf of Mexico and are pushed south by more high pressure in the States. The guides give a fairly straight-forward approach to crossing this area. Wait for a system to pass, stay close to shore where you'll still have plenty of wind but less wave height, and don't cut across. It's the first winter weather phenomenon that we've had to really worry about, and it can be downright awful from the sound of it, so it takes a bit more planning than looking out to the ocean and saying "today looks like a nice day to sail." I won't say we're on edge, but the gears are turning up there. We'll be as safe as we can be and hope for the best.

The Gulf of Tehuantepec and the Mexico

Guatemala border.

From the looks of it we'll be moving on in a day or two. Meanwhile, we're anchored off Playa Pantheon in Puerto Angel. It's much quieter than Puerto Escondido, and while there isn't world class surfing right next door, we did enjoy a great scuba dive off the rocks to the West of the entrance. Really tall rock walls going down to sand alleys 50-60' down. Tons of fish, a few we haven't seen before, a lone lobster, a few eels, a very camouflaged sculpin and a swim through a short tunnel in the rocks. The rock walls on their own were amazing, covered in sea fans and different colored algae.

Right now I'm listening to a parrot chant "hola, hola, hola" instead of the crazy mayhem that went along with the sport-fishing tournament in Escondido. A good trade.

Liberte in Puerto Angel

Can you point me to the coffee? An adventure in roasting, and directions

Chris and I enjoy good coffee. It is among my "future plans" to insert myself into the coffee industry in one way or another, whether as a roaster, buyer or shop owner. It has been a priority on this trip to seek out good beans and stock up when we can. Most grocery stores only stock ground coffee and we're trying to get whole beans, so the result has been that we often have to ask around to those in the know to complete our coffee mission.

The last coffee we bought was in La Cruz, locally roasted at a cafe/art gallery, and it was nice and fresh and tasty. But it is almost gone, so here in Puerto Escondido, we needed to procure some more. After cruising the two touristy strips here and coming up empty, I asked a guy on the beach if he knew where I could buy some whole coffee, and he suggested the mercado munipal. The mercado in Puerto Escondido is part farmer's market, clothing shops and just about anything else you could want. So we took a cab there and started trolling the stalls. It's pretty organized, with whole rows taken up by the same kind of stall, one of fruits and vegetables, the next of meat, prepared foods, flowers, etc. We walked around for about 20 minutes and saw no coffee vendor. So we asked one of the other vendors and she pointed us one way. We walked over to the area she had pointed out but it was more prepared food, where I'm sure coffee was available, but in its final liquid form.

About this time Chris began to get hungry (which happens approximately every 15 minutes) so we stopped to get a snack at one of the booths. After Chris finished his torta, we asked the ladies there and they pointed us down to the next aisle...we think. So we walked over an aisle or two but saw only seeds, dried beans and herbs. Then Chris said he thought she might have said the next street, so we went there too. We saw an awesome little shop where they made Oaxacan chocolat, which is a tasty beverage, but not coffee.

Then we went back to the mercado and asked the woman at the tequila stall if she knew where they sold coffee. She said something like, “Senora, mumblemumblemumble,” and made a shooing motion with her hand. So off we went in the direction which she shooed us. But we were just back to the beans and seeds stalls. A defeatist attitude began to settle over us. I pointed to a stall where I saw big bags of something stacked up, so we strolled over...to the pet food. There were also baby chickens in a cage. In a last ditch effort, we asked one of the beans and seeds guys. He picked up one of the plastic bags on his table. It was coffee, alright. It was also green.

So began our adventures in roasting. With a little help from Sweet Maria's, the internet site from which we bought our hand grinder, we learned that we could just roast in a covered pan, shaking the coffee over the flame like popcorn. So we did. It was really cool. We could hear it crack and see it grow and turn dark in front of our eyes. So now we not only have whole bean coffee, we have fresh roasted whole bean coffee. Woo hoo!

So this all illustrates two salient things we've discovered while on this little trip of ours. One: when you ask for directions, sometimes you're going to get more mixed up. Keep asking. And listen well. Two: when you want the good things in life, all the raw ingredients are there. You just have to be willing to shake it up.

Pangas that go bump in the night

Puerto Escondido anchorage

Last night was a long one. We've been anchored in Puerto Escondido for the past few days, where a sportfishing tournament is taking place over the weekend. So along with the great surf at Playa Zicatela we've been enjoying such “perks” as an extremely loud announcer and DJ (who get the party started at 6:30 AM) and an already crowded anchorage loaded with extra fishing boats and pangas. Escondido isn't the easiest anchorage, a deep 80' bottom that jumps quickly to a narrow 15' shelf just before the beach. Makes for good wave generation but slightly difficult anchoring. We arrived a day before the fishing tournament started and were able to tuck up into the anchorage with a bow and stern anchor, keeping our bow facing out into the swell and us from swinging wildly through the moored panga fleet when the wind shifts.
We've been nice and snug for two nights. We were in town last night enjoying the festivities and some very spicy (chorizo and jalapeno) pizza. When we arrived back at Liberte we found a panga a little too close for comfort off our starboard quarter. While the rest of the panga fleet was swinging in the wind, this wise fellow had tied off to the stern of another panga and thoughtfully dropped a stern anchor across our stern anchor, so he swung right into us. Crossing anchor lines, poor form. After initially shortening the length of line between the two to keep them off us and putting out some fenders, we retired for a bit down below. We woke shortly to a bump in the night.
We spent the next 30 minutes fending this panga off us with the boat hook. Usually I can come up with a solution to a problem like this rather quickly, but with the sound of our engine combined with the techno rave party on the beach and the sleep I'd just been woken from, I was having to take a moment to contemplate our next move. After we determined that we were exactly where we had been, and that it was this panga who was at fault I went to work. I pulled up this panga's stern anchor, untangled it from ours and towed it safely to a better spot, dropping and setting their anchor so they fell in line with us and not into us. I've been mostly impressed by the boat driving and seamanship of the pangueros, but this was a fancy panga, shiny, buffed fiberglass and a chromed awning and center console, this was a rich man's panga. A weekend warrior perhaps?
Besides all of that we've really enjoyed Puerto Escondido. Anywhere I can paddle ashore and walk 200 yards to a world famous surf break is right by me. We also did some snorkeling at Playa Carizallio where I saw a sea turtle swimming along with some eagle rays. The vibe here is friendly, a bit of a younger crowd than most spots we've been to. But alas, tomorrow we set sail for Puerto Angel and the Gulf of Tehuantepec.

A couple of guitar fish in Manzanillo Cove, near Zihuatenejo, I think they're lovers.

Buena Ola

News from Z-wha?!?

Zihuatenejo – it’s a bit of a mouthful, but kinda starts to roll of the tongue if you say it enough. Situated on a little bay surrounded on all sides by four distinct beaches, it’s a city that feels like a small town, hosts cruise ships without losing its character, and had both Chris and myself thinking, “Hmmm, we could really stay here awhile.”

Never mind the fact that we’ve said that no less than a half-dozen times, we really liked the place. So here, in no particular order, are the things that made Zihuatenejo great.

This is actually chicken from Puerto Escondido, but it too is the best chicken

The best chicken: taken off of a spinning rotisserie, hacked up into four or five chunks and thrown into a plastic bag with some tomatillo salsa and a Dixie cup of beans. Let me back up…when we were back in La Cruz those many weeks ago, there was near the bustop a rotisserie chicken establishment. On our trip into Puerto Vallarta, before we got on the bus, we checked out the chickens and fantasized all afternoon about the delicious crispy skin and tender meat. Unfortunately by the time we returned, laden with one million bags of groceries and wanting nothing more than to sit down and tear into a six-pack and a chicken, the place was dark and there were no chickens to be had. We were heartbroken, not to mention hungry.

So in Zihuatenejo, we were not to be put off. There were several places we spotted around town, but at dinnertime, none seemed to have any chicken left. When Chris took off surfing with Coly, a guide to all things Zihuatenejo (diving, surfing, and chicken procurement) he was informed that

the chicken is “lunch food.” No chicken at night. Huh. Well, on our last day in town, we stopped on our way to provision (we try not to make the same mistakes twice) at a counter open to the street, with chicken pressed flat into a sort of cage, spinning in front of a flame and sizzling musically.

Half a chicken – chop, hack, into the bag. We walked across the street to a bar, bought a couple of beers, and opened the plastic bag. It smelled marvelous. We dug in. To be honest, Chris looked a little feral – hunched over, chin glistening, sucking the bones. I may have too. The chicken was amazing: juicy, flavorful, and gone too fast. Naturally it begs the question, “Why is Mexican chicken so clearly superior to American chicken?” I suspect it may have something to do with the way they live and are bred, industrial agriculture and whatnot. Obviously not every Mexico

chicken is running wild on a dusty street somewhere eating grubs before it’s snatched up and taken to the big-time, but judging by the size of the things, they aren’t bred to have the DD-size breasts that are so common here. So maybe they’re just more chicken-y, in whatever way that counts toward making them sooo yummy.

Casa Marina - it's a building of six or so shops (quality stuff, good prices) and a pizzeria/café, all owned by the same family. The cafe overlooks the fishing co-op on playa principal, has great snacks and free WIFI and a good book exchange. We went every day. It took no time at all to feel a little sense of community. We chatted with the shopkeepers, talked to other travelers at the café, and generally felt welcome and comfortable. It was a feeling that is really really nice when you’re actually as far away from home, and for as long, as you’ve ever been. Also, Coly was recommended to us after Chris asked about surfing, and he went on a trip up to Playa Linda with him.

Making our mark: we were waiting for our scuba tanks to be refilled and moseyed down to a little restaurant (comida economica). We were sitting and waiting for our quesadillas and cokes and we noticed that one wall had a bunch of names and years on it which appeared to be names of boats. We were talking to a guy sitting at the other table (who had the interesting job of working for a fish taxidermy company) and mentioned that we had arrived via sailboat and he said, “Well, you should put your name up on the wall.” So we asked the proprietress if we could paint on her wall and she brought out a few paints and brushes and we quickly added our boat name to the group. It's been a long time since I was tempted to write “Amanda wuz here” on tables, walls or bathroom stalls (actually I don't think I've ever really been one for that particular behavior), but there was something very gratifying about making our mark in this little place. It will probably be painted over at some point, but it will still be there, under growing layers of dates, names and boats. I like the idea of that.

The Gnar Towel

This is dedicated to my nephew, Colin, who likes fishing.

A fresh fish taco; a handful of cabbage, warmed tortillas, media crema and hot sauce mixed up, a few limons, and the catch of the day. We've been doing fairly well with the fishing lately, hooking a big dorado on our sail from Melaque to Zihuatanejo. When we started off, dragging a lure from San Francisco all the way to Turtle Bay without a bite, I was a bit worried about whether we'd ever catch anything. I was able to spear calicos, sheepshead and mackerel around Catalina and the San Benitos, which make for great eating, but we were hungry for something bigger. We finally got lucky when we left Turtle Bay, landing a great yellowtail which fed us and several campers in San Juanico for a week. After all those miles of trolling I don't think either of us were quite prepared for getting a big fish onboard and filleting it. Reeling it in is the easy part, once its alongside it has to be gaffed (stabbed in the side of the head with a giant sharp hook) and brought up over the lifelines and onto the deck, a bit of a crap shoot.

Once the fish hits the deck it's a whole new game. We drop sail to slow the boat down and bring the fish in, so Liberte is usually lurching and rolling in the seas like a bathtub, making moving around the boat a combination of a carnival ride, a slip-and-slide, and an obstacle course. We'd heard a few fish tales, so we knew how a big fish could go berserk once it was out of the water and onto the deck of a boat. Luckily a little law enforcement training kicked in and I used my knee to hold the yellowtail down while Amanda grabbed a knife. Sounds like we're a gang of savages. We've also used a towel to keep dorado pacified while we get the boat moving again, we call this the “gnar-towel.” Once the boat is sailing again and I've hosed down a bit of the blood (or in the case of a tuna, horror movie bloodbath), I set to filleting and bagging our catch. Sometimes it's a walk in the park, other times it's trying not to stab myself in the eye while slipping and sliding around the deck and stubbing my toe on everything, with a dead fish. I believe we've gotten our methods down though and the fish is usually in the fridge in 20 minutes.

But what do you do with 30 lbs of fish? Besides the fish taco, we've tried teryiaki tuna with pineapple, tuna casserole, fish red curry, tuna poke, yellowtail sashimi, mahi mahi sauteed with lemon and capers. We've grilled it, fried it, eaten it on rice, on salads and with pasta. Luckily there's other hungry cruisers and campers around that we've been able to share with.

The rest of the seafood we've had while in Mexico has been pretty awesome as well. Shrimp tacos at Christie's in San Juanico, shrimp and pineapple omlette in La Cruz, and get this...shrimp on my cheeseburger in Barra Navidad. I doubt anyone back home is really concerned about our diet, but we're quite well fed.

Jungle Video Productions Presents....

Here's a short clip of our jungle river trip in Tenacatita. Pretty cool excursion with a slightly wierd ending. Once we came to the final intersection where our guidebook says you can hope out and enjoy some lunch at some seafood palapas, we were greeted by four private security hombres.

After an awkward introduction we were told the restaurants were closed, but we could walk the beach if we wanted, we decided to head out. Just a little weird. Private security to protect people walking on a beach, hmmmm. The ride through the mangroves is really cool though, tons of birds and little red crabs crawling up the roots.

Next is a short clip of some of the snorkeling we had in Los Frailes, back on the east side of Baja. The water was amazing. Since crossing over to the mainland the water has been a bit green with visibility pretty low most of the time. We hear it clears up more later in November and December.

Sorry about the small frame, this is the first time I have edited videos to be uploaded on blogger so I wasn't sure of the file type and size that would be best. I'll go bigger next time.

We have a good looking forecast for Monday and Tuesday, so we hope to make some miles toward Zihautanejo after getting some fuel and provisions here in Melaque and Barra Navidad.

Chris takes a minute to vent...

So we’ve been out here sailing, playing, having fun for three months now. For the most part everything is quite peachy, everything I expected and more. Amanda read me a bit of Bill Bryson’s I’m a Stranger Here Myself - an essay on the foibles of modern design - a few days ago and it inspired me to vent a few frustrations.

I’m a huge fan of things that work the way they should. A tool or piece of gear that does what it should, with ease and minimal stress is worth its weight in gold. We have a few of those and I love them and would do unspeakable things to keep them. We also have a few pieces of gear that I exhaust my entire glossary of expletives every time I use them.

The first is our jerry cans. We keep 15 gallons of diesel and 5 gallons of extra gasoline in 5 gallon jerry cans. So after we deplete some of the fuel in our tank I get out the baja filter, a short length of hose, and set it up to transfer some fuel. These jerry cans are new, I got them with my excellent employee discount at West Marine (which is an evil, heartless and nincunpoop of a company). They came with a sticker pronouncing how environmentally friendly they were with they’re special spill proof nozzle. The first time I tried to use these cans it took me 15 minutes to figure out how to get fuel to come out. You have to grip the nozzle and press it back towards the can, which opens a valve inside. Meanwhile, this valve is total junk and the gasket that seats the nozzle to the can is junk and fuel is dribbling all over the place. How a jerry can that leaks like a sieve is friendly to the environment I don’t know. A friend told me the other day that with my frizzled blonde hair I am starting to look like Christopher Lloyd from Back to the Future. If I could travel back in time I’d sneak into my father’s garage and come back with his old metal jerry can with the flexible metal spout. It was practical, indestructible, and worked like a charm.

So, in order to get around out here safely you need charts. Maps of the water, and the underwater. Knowing where you are and what’s up ahead is quite important. How annoying is it when you’re in a new city and you come to one of those handy maps of the surrounding area with shops, restuartants, streets and parks all clearly labeled, but hmmm…where am I? No little red dot letting you know “you are here.” So in order to put us on the chart we have GPS. I’m not going to go into latitude and longitude, but we all know it’s a grid system that allows you to have coordinates for every spot on the globe. I bought the chartbook, published by Yachtsman that covers Mexcio to Panama, a bargain deal for around $100. What they did is take all of the charts, shrink them a bit, then cut them up into pieces to make pages. What they didn’t do is include a bit of the latitude and longitude scale on each chart. Without these you have a nice map of the area, but no way to put yourself on it, or identify a waypoint, a magic set of coordinates that is in safe water, to steer to? I wrote an email to the company months ago letting them know that they should maybe publish lingerie catalogs or business cards instead of nautical charts, no reply. So I ordered scales from a mapping store online, copied them and taped them to the charts where appropriate. Problem solved, but why did I have to do it? Why couldn’t some yahoo who prints these things have said,, “Oh dang, these maps are neat but no one can actually use them, maybe we should take care of that.”

I’m going to stop now, and praise a few things. The Bialetti coffee maker we use is amazing. We’ve had it for 5 years now, so it’s probably made at least 1500 cups of coffee without one problem. Ah, and the windscoop, a thin fabric scoop we hook onto our forward hatch that funnels an amazing fresh breeze right through the boat. We love it.

Lastly, Amanda just informed me that we have been on “vacation” more now than most people take in six years. I think I can put up with it for a while longer, wink wink.

Banderas Bay and the Gold Coast

Week in Review

We anchored out at La Cruz de Huanacaxtle for three days, enjoying the little town and taking a day trip into Puerto Vallarta. La Cruz had a number of good restaurants (we had the best omelettes of our lives at La Glorieta, see below), and we met a few cruisers there, most who had spent the summer in PV and that area. Chris found a pretty nice wave there as well, although his board also sustained its first major ding on the nose from the rocks that are just below the surface (yikes).

Getting to Puerto Vallarta was easy on a cheap bus, but we had major traffic both ways (traffic, something I reaalllly don’t miss). Puerto Vallarta has a beautiful malecon, which is the walking area along the water, with great statues, lots of stores and restaurants. We did a little shopping and walked along the Rio Cuale, along which there are lots of shops selling things like t-shirts that say “I’m Shy, but I’ve Got a Big Dick.” So yeah, nothing was bought along there, but there is also a museum that has some cool Mesoamerican stone art, tools and pottery.

After La Cruz, we headed south across the bay to Yelapa. It’s a pretty little village with cobblestone streets on the southeast side and a long steep beach with palapa restaurants to the north. We had a great dinner at Pollo Rollo in the village, and explored the towns’ two waterfalls. The bigger one is at the end of an hour’s hike up the river. It was great to get out and stretch the legs – cardio fitness goes straight out the door on the boat! We passed a lot of houses along the trail with burros in the yard, chickens and dogs everywhere as well. Apparently there is no road to Yelapa (everything comes by boat), so the “street” along the river is little more than a trail. We got to the waterfall after a missed turn or two, and the water felt great, although the pool at the bottom wasn’t quite deep enough to actually swim. But best of all as we were sitting on the rocky edge of the river, I looked up and saw two birds with really long tails flying overhead. They turned back over the river and we could see that they were green and a little blue – wild PARROTS!!! Totally sweet wildlife sighting. Also impressive, but it a somewhat more freaky way were the multitudes of giant spiders we saw. I mean, palm-of-your-hand big. I’m not really scared of spiders, but it does bring an interesting thought into my head, which is that I have no idea what is poisonous, dangerous or otherwise harmful to encounter out here. Not that I’m going around chewing on wild leaves or licking frogs (I leave that up to Chris when the opportunity presents itself) but still, it would be nice to know.

After Yelapa, we hit up Chamela Bay, anchoring out between three little islands in the center. We found a sweet little beach that we had to share most of the day with a group of teenagers who wouldn’t look at us directly and ran away when we tried to greet them (seriously, it was a little weird). There was a big palapa shelter there from which I got to hang a hammock and read – ahhhhh. Sweetness. We left there in the middle of the night to head to Tenacatita Bay, where we spent the last few days.

Ten Bay is apparently a major cruising ground in the winter, but we are early birds, so we were one of only three boats there. We met Roger and Sue on Neos, a big catamaran. They’ve been cruising for five years, in the Carribbean and the Pacific, so it was great to talk to them about the “road ahead,” so to speak. Most of the people that we’ve met up to this point have only cruised Mexico. They gave us a ton of good information and assuages my recently arisen fears of the Panama Canal transit.

Also in Ten Bay, we did a dinghy trip up a mangrove-bordered jungle river. We made a little video, so we’ll post that soon. Sailing to Barra Navidad today to fuel up and provision for our next long leg to Zihuatenejo.

The Night Watch

The sun rises over Abreojos

Before this trip, we had not sailed through the night. We’d sailed at night, usually to return to our slip after a long day’s sail, cutting through the still water and trying to determine which lights on shore were relevant to us.

Making an overnight passage is a whole new ballgame. We divide the steering and watch duties into three-hour chunks, from nine ‘til midnight, 12:00 – 3:00 am, etc. So for those hours, you either try to get some sleep, or you’re on deck, at the helm.

On all the passages we’ve made so far, it’s been fairly cool at night. There’s also usually some condensation on all of the deck surfaces, so we’re bundled up in our foul-weather gear to stay warm and dry. We are also usually equipped with our mp3 players, Kindle or book, and sometimes a snack or hot beverage. When the watch changes, we make sure whoever is taking over is all set, exchange any pertinent information about the wind, speed or “contacts” (other boats or visible objects), give each other a kiss and settle in for whatever the next three hours brings.

Standing these watches is one of the more difficult things about this trip. Sometimes they go quickly - the sails are set well, the music is good and all you do is watch out for any lights. Most of the time there are none. This is also one of the disconcerting things about the night watch: when the lights are gone.

Most of the time, there is the moon. On our last passage it was waning from full to half, so it was very bright at night. The cool white light reflecting off of the water lights the way surprisingly well. The stars are also pretty amazing. I’ve seen more shooting stars than I can count, and am trying to learn to identify more constellations. Some of the time the problem is that I can see too many stars, and it’s hard to pick out the ones that I’m looking for.

Then there are the times when the moon has passed below the horizon and clouds cover the sky. The darkness is so complete it seems the whole world has been swallowed up. Every sound is deafening, every slap of the waves against the hull has you straining to see what might be the cause. It’s always around 4 o’clock in the morning. It’s creepy. It’s usually when I turn on the headlamp and stare at the book I’m reading and try to ignore how dark it is. Most of the time, that works and when I turn off the headlamp I’m shocked again. But soon after that the horizon starts to glow and another day is ushered in. The sunrise at sea is a joy to behold.

There is almost always something surprising during a night watch. On our last trip as we were coming into Los Cabos I saw what I can only imagine were two very brightly glowing jellyfish. Bioluminesence is one of nature’s wonders. Certain organisms just glow. We see luminescent plankton on a fairly regular basis, little sparkles in the water when it is agitated by something. I’ve written before about the dolphin torpedoes that shoot through the water at times like comets. Other times, just seeing a boat is a revelation. From Ensenada to Turtle Bay, we went two whole days without seeing anything. Not a single boat, airplane trail through the sky…nothing at all to indicate human presence. Then, on one of my watches, through the darkness came one set of lights, then two. Then three, and we were in the middle of a triangle of fishing boats. It was somehow very comforting for a couple of hours. After those we wouldn’t see another boat for a whole day.

Three nights ago I had a small fish jump on board. I was listening to music and I heard a weird clicking sound. I turned off my player and looked over to where the sound was coming from. There was this fish thrashing around on deck, the clicking was the sound of its tail slapping. I rushed over to grab it, but like a cartoon it kept wriggling up out of my grasp. I gave up for a moment because I needed to steer the boat. Then I grabbed a towel that was wrapped around the lifelines to dry, covered the fish with it, picked it up and tossed it back to the sea.

Always a surprise – that’s one of the coolest things about cruising so far. There’s always something unexpected happening, something new.

Note: Chris and I have changed the watch schedule, and he believes it is pertinent to let you all know this. We are now standing a 2-4-4-2 hour schedule, and are both overjoyed with the extra hour of sleep.

Me and my fish

That's right, people. I reeled this one in. Totally worth getting my Mexico fishing license (not that I had a choice.) And it was so heavy I couldn't lift it all the way. Hence the hunch-y nature of this picture. I have my hands in its giant gills. Ew. I am probably going to get mercury poisoning symptoms any minute, so much tuna we've had for the last few days...

Notes on a crossing

We can check off another one of our longer passages, crossing the Sea of Cortez. From Cabo Pulmo to Puerto Vallarta is about 280 nautical miles. We had great wind the first 24 hours, but spent much of the second day motoring. Luckily, the wind came back up in the evening and we sailed through the third night at sea, making it to Punta Mita a bit before daybreak. We didn't see any other boats till our third night, when we passed a panga close by and then met a few cruise ships as we got closer to Puerto Vallarta. Besides all the normal fun of sleep deprivation, constant movement and cooking being a pain in the butt, we had a few small tragedies.

While motor-sailing the second night, just as I was waking up and coming up to watch, Amanda yells for me. I come up on deck, half awake, and nearly have my head taken off by the mainsail boom, which is completely loose, and now far off the starboard side. It swings back over my head one more time and stays a few feet off the port rail. I quickly secured the boom with a spare line and then started to find out what the heck happened. Years of abuse and gybes and rockin and rolling had taken its toll on our boom bale (not sure if its bail or bale in this instance), which is the metal fitting on the bottom of the boom which the sheet tackle is attached to. The bale had snapped right off at the screws. I remembered a fellow ex-coastie, Winn, who kept his boat in Loch Lomond before moving to Sausalito. He had shown me once how he used half inch three strand, wrapped and lashed around his boom to create bales for his mainsheet. I whipped one together pretty quickly, reinforced it with a little nylon chafing gear the next morning, and I think we're good to go. Thanks Winn. While not a true tragedy, things breaking onboard is a bummer and I did almost get my head knocked off.

I already mentioned that we didn't see very many other boats on our way across. We did see plenty of wildlife though. We've started seeing new and bigger sea birds. We're a little unsure of our ornithology, but they are big, giant sea gulls, a bit darker in color. There are also some that fly super high and resemble pterodactyls. We saw plenty of the normal wildly leaping dolphins. Then we had an unexpected visitor. About 150 miles from Cabo, a little more than halfway, a little brown sparrow lands on the dinghy davits. All day this little bird hopped around the boat, checking things out. Eventually he went down the companionway for an inspection of the cabin. I set some seeds around for him in case he had the munchies. When night came we lost track of him, but figured he had either flown off or was hunkered down somewhere onboard. The next evening I was looking in the forward bilge for some gnocchi to make for dinner. I wanted to get to the most forward boxes, so I moved a few things from the floorboard in the berth: a yoga mat, a camera tripod, and oh damn...a dead bird. I have no idea why he ended up tucked behind a yoga mat, but there he was. I wasn't sure whether or not to tell Amanda, but since I'm horrible at secrets, and she deserved the truth, I let her know. So, a bit of a bummer. Rest in peace little bird.

We're safe and sound, anchored off of La Cruz, near Puerto Vallarta. We'll stick around for a day or two, then start heading for the Gold coast, Chamela and Tenicatita Bay.

Time to put away the foulies

Amanda and I are basking in our new climate. Its hot and sunny, the water is clear and blue. We did laundry on deck while we had access to unlimited fresh water at Puerto los Cabos and everything was dry in 2 hours. We knew it was going to be hot and we are quite happy about it. Even better though, we've had a few of those less expected joys that make traveling so fun.

While in San Jose del Cabo, instead of mac and cheese with broccoli or rice and beans, we opted for a more luxurious meal out. Gotta get it while you can. After dinner we were bumbling around downtown and ended up in a bar called La Internacional, overlooking the town square or el centro. We like a lot of music and not to be an ingrate but the mariachi gets a little old. It's hard to really enjoy such a vocal music when you are having trouble with the language. Anyways, there was a three piece jazz band playing. A guitar player and stand up bassist and a soprano saxophone. I have a bit of jazz on my player but anyone who knows me is not going to describe me as an enthusiast. It was awesome, lively, mysterious, playful music. It definitely had a gypsy element which Amanda introduced me to this past year. The sax player was amazing. It wasn't the crooning, whiny sax that I think about with a lot of jazz. It was quick and fiery. Perfect ending to the evening. So now we dig jazz, whats next? Those weird shoes with springs in them that help your back or whatever?

We've also started to run into more cruisers. Our way down the Baja coast has been a little lonely compared to the two weeks we spent in Catalina. We've met some folks who know the Hembrows, the cool Australian couple we spent a bit pf time with in Big Gieger Cove. It feels good to be back in the company of our tribe. I love being out of touch, away, in the boonies. But, there is a certain feeling of community you get when fellow yatistas are nearby. At this moment 200 boats are speeding, well, as fast as the wind will blow them, towards Cabo in the Baja Haha rally. It's a rally with the objective to get folks safely down the “rugged” Baja coast as fast as possible. They do what we did in 20 days in 10 days. No week long surf stops, no dive trips, sail sail sail. It will be interesting to see the influx of cruisers. I have a feeling it will make the whole thing more pleasant. We haven't met any nasty, mean folks out sailing their winter away in the tropics.

One more change. Since I have no need for a drivers license, credit cards and all the other junk that goes in a wallet, I have gone with the money clip. Who knew? I got a sweet sliver one with a sea horse on it. Didn't see it coming. No more butt aches from sitting on my fat stacks of pesos though.

Sweet, sweet San Juanico

Amanda: There's a moment, after paddling wildly, moving your board through the water, when all the energy of a wave that has traveled thousands of miles bunches up behind you, and lifts. You either go over the peak and let that energy carry you forward, or you back off. It passes underneath.

I have become a master of backing off. Despite the fact that I have wanted to learn to surf for ages, the energy and might of a wave scares me. Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. It's a surrender to the power of nature and can be daunting.

Here, though, it feels different. I have been waiting for these kind of waves for years. They're regular and perfect, triangles that push to the right for ages. Two days ago, I finally went over that peak. I caught a wave and rode it, just a little. I was astonished at my accomplishment I think, and so almost immediately fell. I stood up, a grin a mile wide. And went back for more.

Chris: We anchored here inside of Punta Pequena a few days ago around 8:30 in the morning. I'd actually done some good sleeping on our overnight passage, so seeing these perfect waves rolling along the points it didn't take me long to have the dinghy in the water and a wetsuit on. I surfed for a few hours, by myself at first and then with the folks camped along the ridge. I could barely believe how great these waves were, just going on forever. When I made it back to the boat for some lunch I let Amanda know that we couldn't leave here until she learned to surf. No if ands or buts.

So we've been at it for three or four days, surfing at least 3 hours a day. Our shoulders are getting quite a workout. Its awesome seeing Amanda figure out what to do, where to position herself, getting over the little fears and quirks from trying for so long in conditions no where near as perfect as this. I don't want to leave, I could stay here and surf for weeks and months. Our plan though is to stay through Sunday, after some bigger swell pushes in tomorrow. I'm so glad we stopped here. The folks said that hardly any yachts ever stop for more than a night. The first day when we had gone back in to surf more, two guys were cruising around the bay in a lug rigged dinghy. They sailed by the break and asked if I was on the Liberte. Turns out one of the guys, Christian, had sailed onboard her in San Francisco around 2004, two owners ago. Weird and wild.

There's the whole thing about surfing being an inherently selfish activity. You're out there for yourself, because you enjoy it so much. I think that since you spend this time being so selfish, that out of the water most surfers go a step further in being good. Everyone we've met here has been as hospitable and helpful as they could be. This is one place I'd really like to come back to.

Making Tracks...

We've made it about halfway down the coast of Baja California, in Bahia Tortugas. The sailing has been ok, not quite as much wind as we'd have liked, but luckily the ol' motor chugs us along when we need it, it is just a little teeth-rattling, that's all.
We'll be leaving in a few hours to head to our next destination, about 100 miles south of here. Keeping our fingers crossed for a nice, breezy trip!

Pasta Dental, and other lessons

Yesterday was full of the kind of tasks that one tends to find themselves engaged in, as a sailor in a new port...we officially "checked in" to Mexico, went on provisioning runs, and of course, partook in a variety of local food and beverages.

We are docked at the Baja Naval marina, at which the dockmaster Roger has been super helpful. He basically got most of our paperwork in order for us before we went over to immigration and gave us a quick tutorial as to the check-in two step we would have to perform to get all the proper

documents. The office itself is set up with windows for all of the different agencies that need a stamp or whatnot, immigration, customs and the Port Captain. Plus a bank window at which you pay your fees. So here's the dance...immigration, bank, immigration, Port Captain reception, Post Captain fee taker, customs, bank, copy kiosk, bank, customs. It was a little like the DMV...stand in line for interminable amounts of time to talk to supremely annoyed people who glare at you for not having all the documentation in exact preferred order (bank lady, I'm looking at you), then get your ticket to freedom and waltz out the door. Here's the funny thing, though...this is supposed to be an easy place to check in. At most places, and here until a few years ago, the offices aren't in the same building. So all of this is accomplished by a mad dash around town and could take a whole day. We were out in two hours, so I'm thanking my lucky stars. And dreading the next time when it's not that convenient.

So on to our provisioning run! Ahh, the grocery store. I love grocery stores. I could spend hours

in them and often do, puttering around to look at all of the exciting offerings. I have been known to dance through the grocery store when a particularly sweet musak station is on much to Chris's dismay. So at our first Mexican supermercado, we had a ball looking at all of the new exciting food items we could try...we skippped the shelf stable milk with vegetable oil added, but got some without. Tiny mexican limes, coconut flavored cookies in a giant box, and delicious queso oaxaca (and no, it does not escape me that as a longtime California resident, I could have gotten these things at any time at a latin grocery. Still.) But the item of greatest mystery and wonder was a package of thin steaks labelled vampira res. Res means beef. Vampira? I'm envisioning sparkly, stone faced incredibly beautiful bloodsucking butchers. Chris thinks it's from a cow that killed by the chupacabra. We'll take your suggestions...

So then I had my first Spanish pantomime experience. On the prowl for toothpaste, I was utterly lost among deodorants and foot powder. Someone asked if they could help me, and I stared at her blankly at a loss, then bared my teeth and used my air toothbrush to indicate my needed product. "Para cepillar mis dientes?" (To brush my teeth) She looked at me sympathetically, and then called to a coworker who ostensibly spoke

English. "Toothpaste?" I asked. "What do you need?" he responded. "I need toothpaste." He looked unsure. "Para cepillar mis dientes?" I repeated my hand motions. "Brush?" he said, and led me to an aisle a little farther down. There, on the shelves, was Colgate and Crest in ten different flavors. I looked at the boxes, and in little print at the bottom, there was my vocabulary word of the day. Pasta dental.

So we're getting ready to head off into the wild blue for our longest sail yet - we're thinking 2-3 days. Stay tuned!

We caught these little guys trying to catch a ride with us - attached to our anchor chain. Baby sea urchins.