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.