January 29, 2015

Coming from La Paz to Mazatlan, Mazatlan is, in a word, overwhelming. La Paz is a sleepy town compared to Mazatlan’s sprawling metropolis. The city streets are bustling with life. Crazy drivers speeding down the malecon, dodging in and out of traffic. Pedestrians running from here to there are narrowly missed by the constant onslaught of vehicles. The malecon runs for miles adjacent to a beautiful beach with high-rise hotels. Again, I am reminded of Miami Beach.

The mercado is a city block wide and doesn’t just offer food vendors but sells just about anything you could want. A few blocks down from the mercado are the shrimp ladies. There must have been about a dozen vendors, each with huge buckets filled with ice and various sizes of shrimp. This is what Mazatlan is known for.

As in most Mexican towns, there is a central square with a cathedral. One of our favorite areas is the park located in Centro Historico. It is surrounded by indoor/outdoor restaurants, shops and galleries.

“Mazatalan feels more European than Baja.” Jay commented one afternoon while sitting on the patio of one of the restaurants overlooking the park. “Even the people have a slightly different look. Their features are more Spanish.”

And there is so much culture! Museums and theaters abound. There is always something going on; concerts, traditional dance performances, and even cliff diving.

On our first day here, our “rojo truck” (An open cab, pick-up truck with seats along the sides and a canopy over top.) taxi driver dropped us off right in front of the cliff divers. He must have know that this was on Jay’s bucket list (well, maybe not bucket list, but some list, nevertheless). A young man was waiting to hustle us into watching his friend perform. He didn’t have to work hard as Jay and I really wanted to see them dive. (This way we wouldn’t have to go to Acapulco.)

For a tip, this young man, maybe twenty years of age, climbed up on the rocks, waited for the perfect wave – to make the water deeper and therefore safer – crossed himself and dove down, precariously close to the rocks’ edge. We all held our breath and said a prayer. He hit the water and went under. No one moved. We waited. Then, to our relief, his head popped up and everyone let out a sigh of relief and clapped. It was a good show.

We spent that first afternoon roaming the streets, admiring beautiful, Spanish architecture interwoven between dilapidated buildings. This disparity in the structures alludes to a deeper issue; poverty versus wealth. Many have little. Very few have a lot.

The day ended with a couple of wonderful surprises. The first was that while we were looking for a place for dinner, we happened on a parade.

Carnaval is coming the week of February 12-17 and this was a precursor to the second largest Carnaval celebration in the world. This night was to be the election of the queen and the parade was a grand display of all the contestants.

Pow! Pow! Pow!

“What was that?” We all wondered. Of course, our first thought was gunfire. But no. It was fireworks. Or rather, hand-held bottle rockets being shot into the air.

Next we heard sirens and there were police everywhere. They were shutting down the malecon to allow for the parade.

Each contestant had their own car, usually with a band tagging behind in an open truck. She sat on top of the car in a beautiful evening gown (think Miss America), waving to the crowd. She also had her own color; one was blue, the other red, one purple, yellow, etc.) Behind each contestant was a trail of cars with her color, the people supporting her, wearing her color, and raising banners asking the people to vote for their contestant. I believe the parade ended at the stage in the main square where they had the election. It was great fun and hinted to the Carnaval festivities ahead.

The second surprise was finding The Water’s Edge. Although not literally on the water’s edge, we found it to be a first class restaurant with excellent service and delicious food. All this, and music too! A duo (piano & trumpet) serenaded us while enjoying a relaxing meal.

So much to absorb! So much to see! It was a wonderful first excursion into the city of Mazatlan.

(Check out photos in The Gallery)

January 21, 2015

It was Monday, January 12th and finally, it was time to go. The weather window was perfect and our good friends, Alison and Allan, (from s/v Fly Aweigh and Oxnard, CA) had arrived the previous day. For years, we had been talking about them sailing a leg with us, but it wasn’t until last September when they were visiting our home in Martha’s Vineyard that we first cemented the idea of making this particular crossing together. Fortunately, all schedules and stars were aligned.

We picked them up Sunday afternoon on the malecon and whisked them back to Costabaja just in time to dump off their luggage and walk to the beach club for a couple of margaritas while watching the sun set. We sat under the palapa on over-stuffed couches, with the sandy beach in front of us and an infinity pool stretching out to the right. Palm trees stood tall on either side. The Sea of Cortez quietly lapped against the shore as the muted pinks and purples of the sky, highlighted by the sun behind the clouds, decorated the horizon. Later, we walked over to Marina Azul for a delicious dinner and were joined by our (other Oxnard) friends, Bobbi & Don. It was the perfect last evening in La Paz.

Yet, leaving La Paz was bittersweet.

On the one hand, Jay and I had fallen in love with La Paz and had made many new friends. And for that reason, we were hesitant to leave. (The growing roots syndrome again.)

On the other hand, cruising is about exploring new places, and once we untied the lines, we took a deep breath of air and settled into that extraordinary sense of freedom and excitement that overtakes one on the inception of a new journey.

It was a good crossing. We had a steady 15-knot wind, mostly from the NNW, and we could actually sail. The only bummer was that the waves were rolly and uncomfortable, hitting us on the beam, or sometimes, the aft quarter, knocking us around. That made for quick trips below and easy meals like soup or pre-made casseroles. Overall, the trip was actually uneventful. Except, that is, for Jay’s dance in the middle of the night.

Alison was at the helm. It was Allan’s turn to take a nap below and Jay and I were top-sides, resting. I was on the low side and he was on the high side. Just as Jay started to rise out of the bunk, a bit wave hit the beam, catching him off balance, and threw Jay into the cockpit.

Startled, I woke up quickly to find him face down, his neck and head twisted and scrunched into the rim of the companionway. His torso was wedged between the binnacle and cockpit seat and his legs were somehow still up on the seat.

We all rushed to his aid. His first words? “Who’s driving the boat?”

Spoken like a true Captain.

Alison quickly returned to her duties while Allan and I went with our first instinct; to pick him up.

“Don’t touch me.” He said, not sure if anything had been broken. Besides, he was stunned from hitting his head.

We waited patiently. Or rather, Allan did. I was impatient. I didn’t like seeing him like that and I wanted to know he was okay.

After a few minutes, Allan and I were able to help Jay get up. Nothing broken, no concussion (that we knew of). Just some dizziness and feeling out of sorts.

In retrospect, we realized how close Jay was to going straight down the companionway. The whole incident could have been much more serious. It was a reminder as to how quickly one can get hurt.

337 miles, two nights, and 44 hours later, we arrived in Mazatlan. On the approach, we noticed subtle changes; although a cold front was moving in, it was still warmer than the crossing. And the air was damp, with the hint of rain. Soft, but humid too. Clouds were moving in and the land scent of wet dirt and flora wafted across the sea.

As I looked over to the horizon, I saw tall buildings, reminding me of Miami’s skyline, so many years ago.

We hailed El Cid Marina on channel sixteen, to no avail.

“Turn on channel twenty-two.” someone said. “It’s time for the net.”

It was our lucky day. Orlando, of s/v Cuba Libre, was running the net and just happened to be friends of Alison and Allan. (They had done the 2009 Baja HaHa together and owned identical boats.) When Orlando went to the subject of “local assistance,” Alison jumped in.

“This is s/v Cadenza. We are arriving in El Cid with no response from the marina. Any suggestions as to where we should go?”

And with that, Orlando welcomed us to Mazatlan, directed us to the fuel dock, and there, waiting for us, was a handful of new friends to help us in.

(For more photos, see gallery)

January 3, 2015

It has been over a month since we arrived in La Paz and here we sit. In the slip.

At first, the joy of seeing Cadenza in the good condition we were promised was our prominent emotion. But then we realized, that despite surviving a hurricane – the worst hurricane ever to hit the cape, she still had been put to bed for not just an entire summer, but a total of seven months, and many of those days the heat had reached over 100 degrees. There was still much work to be done before we could take her for a sail.

The electronics had to be reconnected as Jay had disconnected them in case of a lightening storm. (Which, in fact, happened in July and, unfortunately, hit our neighbors’ boat, knocking out all their electronics.) That shouldn’t be a problem except for the tape Jay used to label the cables melted. Now, does white go to red or red to black? Hmmm.

The sails had to be re-rigged and the rigging had to be checked.

We had our decks refinished over the summer; all the screws and teak bungs replaced (over 2000) and all new caulking. (For one eighth of the cost we were quoted in California, by the way. She looks beautiful!) We also had all the teak rails stripped and varnished. However, he wasn’t quite finished as the bowsprit was being worked on – we were finally getting the stainless rail replaced that had been damaged due to a faulty rudder back in Channel Islands. Getting that done took another two weeks. And on closer inspection, Jay noticed that when they did the decks they unbolted a fitting that holds the staysail boom and the nut fell between the deck and the headliner. Okay, so that took another week to get fixed.

Then we had someone sand and paint the wall over our refrigerator/freezer. Only he got sick in the middle of the job and disappeared for several days, leaving a room full of dust and our fridge covered with paper and us to wonder when and if he would ever come back.

Meanwhile, there was re-provisioning to be done, but it was difficult to get in and out of the fridge due to the mess left by the painter. (In the end, he did a fabulous job. It was just the waiting, not knowing, and living in chaos that was the difficult part.)

Then, we had to get the paint on the outside of the boat retouched due to the tape that was used for the varnish.

“When will that be done?” We asked Chava.

“Manana.” He answered. Only, we have learned manana doesn’t mean tomorrow. It means “sometime later.” Eventually, that got done too.

The kayak that Jay had spent hours repairing last spring, collapsed under my knee. He gave up on that one and donated it to a Mexican worker who was thrilled. He would take it home and fix it for his family. So, a frustrating challenge turned into a good deed.

The dinghy needed repairing. One of our connections that we use to raise the dinghy was wearing thin so we had a new piece made – only the carabiner clips were too large to connect to the lifting rings because there were some old shackles still connected to the lifting rings and took too much room. Jay got the Dremel out and went to work. This was not an easy job and it cost him two burns on his hand.

Next he had to replace one of the wheel tracks on the dinghy.

There was a question as to whether the windlass was leaking oil. That took several days to get someone to come and look at it. It turned out it wasn’t leaking. It was the heat in the summer that had caused the oil to expand and spill out onto the deck. It was a small stain, but after having the entire deck redone, we wanted that spot to be refinished too.

We thought there was a problem with the ignition, but it turned out to be a wiring issue. This took several man-hours of contemplation and testing.

Then the water pump was making strange sounds and we thought we would have to replace that. But before replacing it, Jay wanted to check all the connections and make sure they weren’t loose and changed the water filter. This seemed to fix the problem.

Finally, we were ready to go out to the islands for a shakedown sail. It was a beautiful, warm day with little winds. The norther that had been persisting for several days had finally calmed down.

It was time to raise the mainsail. Only we couldn’t get the mainsail up because the halyard was twisted. Fixed that. We also noticed that the hurricane had pulled about twelve inches of the track slightly up off the boom. Okay, add this to the list. Something else to fix when we get back to the dock.

We arrived in Bahia San Gabriel and joined our friends, Don & Bobbi on sv/Sea Dancer, at anchor. Jay and I decided to wait to the following day to drop our dinghy. We sat back with a glass of wine and I fixed a nice dinner. Nightfall came and we relaxed under the stars with a cup of hot chocolate. All was well and we went to bed early, looking forward to exploring the cove in the morning.

We weren’t in bed long before the wind and seas picked up from the south. This was not predicted. The bay is open to the south and so we were on a lee shore. Things began to rattle and roll as the waves got bigger. It was time for anchor watch.

Jay got dressed and went topsides. All was fine and he settled in in the cockpit. I brought him a blanket as the temperature had dropped. It was a cold wind and a sweatshirt wasn’t enough. I went below to stay warm and to read.

The wind was a steady eighteen knots. The waves were maybe six feet – and close together. Some were literally breaking under the boat. There was a loud thud and then a jingling sound.

“What was that?” I yelled up to Jay.

“I don’t know.” The jingling stopped and we both laid back down.

Again, a loud thud and then a jingling sound. This jingling sound I had never heard before.

“Jay! What was that?” I said, this time getting out of bed and heading up to the cockpit.

“I don’t know. I’m going up to check on the anchor.” Jay and I both put on our life jackets and I stayed in the cockpit while he went to the bow. (We have a deal that neither one of us leaves the cockpit at night without the other one, at least knowing, if not watching.)

Our bridle had broke and our anchor chain was escaping from the windlass a little bit at a time. We were anchored in front of Sea Dancer and if he hadn’t have caught this we could have slid back and been just a wee too close to our friends. Jay directed me to get another bridle he had in our “garage” and he reconnected it while riding the bow that was bouncing up and down like it was a seesaw. Fun.

The following morning, we checked in with our friends via radio.

“How was your night?” Jay asked.

Don laughed. “Not so great. And you?”

“Well, I didn’t sleep much, that’s for sure.” And Don agreed.

We discussed our plans based on the weather at hand, and the weather forecast for the next few days. We jointly decided to try and nap for a few hours and then make our final decision. But it was looking like it wasn’t going to settle down anytime soon and there were more winds predicted for the next few days. Besides that, there were some gray clouds gathering, hinting it might rain.

Three hours later, we were ready to go. Don & Bobbi were behind us, so they weighed anchor first. Meanwhile, we started our engine to warm it up. Or rather, we tried.

“Sea Dancer, Sea Dancer, this is Cadenza. Our engine is not starting. Could you hang out for a minute, please?” I called over the radio. They paused in the middle of pulling up their anchor. (Not that they could do anything. I just wanted moral support and someone to know if there was an issue.)

The engine battery wouldn’t start, and jumping it didn’t work, but when Jay connected the house batteries to the engine battery, it started. Ugh! Now, we have something else on our list!

And so here we are, several days later, waiting for the electrician to help us find the source of our problem. Jay suspects it is the battery but wants to make sure it’s not anything to do with the previous wiring issue that Victor had fixed before he spends 3000 pesos on a new battery.

Victor arrives as I am writing this blog.

“The battery is dead.” He says, after he uses his load tester. (Victor speaks very good English and has been a great help to us while we have been in La Paz.)

“But it is only two years old? Why?” Jay asks. “What do you think could cause it to die?”

“This marina was without electricity for many days after the hurricane. When a battery runs low for a length of time, it dies.”

Then Victor removes the battery and we notice that both ends are distended.

“Do you think that was from the heat?” Jay wants to know. We have heard that the intense heat here in the summer can affect batteries.

Victor does not have an answer other than to reiterate that something is definitely wrong with this battery.

Jay and Victor are on their way to buy a replacement battery right now. Hopefully, this will be the final answer to our latest dilemma.

You might wonder why any of this is a surprise. It isn’t. After all, it’s a boat. And, as they say, “Cruising is just fixing things in exotic ports.” But there is more to this. We have a schedule. (A bad word in the sailing world.)

Our friends, Alison & Allan, from Oxnard and sv/Fly Aweigh, are flying in next week. The plan is for them to make the crossing to Mazatlan with us. But when it comes right down to it, it all depends on the weather and if the boat is ready.

Schedules and boats – they don’t mix. That was my very first lesson in boat safety.

So here we sit, waiting for the wind angels and boat angels to release us and to bless our journey.

December 5, 2014

I cannot believe how exhausted I am. This trip – this month-long trip – has been challenging. But with every challenge, we learn things about ourselves and more.

Like:

I’m a better sailor than I thought.

That sometimes I’m not as good of a a sailor as I think I am.

That sometimes I bark before I think.

That I love and respect my husband more than I ever thought I could.

That yelling louder doesn’t necessarily mean I will be heard any better.

That each person on board must take responsibility for constantly continuing to hone their sailing skills. Anything less could prove to be a liability.

That I am grateful for Mother Mary keeping us in her prayers and our ship in her hands.

That I have lived long enough to recognize that my life is truly a gift.

December 4. 2014

We are on our last leg, from Ensenada de los Muertos to La Paz. We are not sailing and I don’t even care. This is the first time in weeks the wind and sea have laid down. We are passing through the Cerralvo Channel which can be challenging at times due to the strong winds, building seas, and fast current that are known to flow through here. So far, though, we are motoring an easy 6.5 knots.

It is a perfect day. Warm with a soft breeze. There are clouds scattered throughout the sky keeping the tropical sun from burning our skin.

All has been quiet but for one little bit of drama when the Baja ferry decided to enter the channel at the same time as us. Bobbi was at the helm and moved our boat to port and the La Paz Star passed us by with ease. She’s a big girl. Especially up close.

This part of our journey, from San Jose del Cabo to La Paz has been relatively calm. It could have been a lot worse as this is the time of year for northers. Northers bring wind on the nose, high-square waves and seas close together (i.e. 5 feet at 4 seconds). Last year this was one of our most difficult passages. I guess the wind and sea gods decided to give us a break, considering the gale we encountered on our last leg.

We are most grateful.

At the end of my shift, we came out of the lee of Isla Cerralvos. Now we ARE sailing! We are on a close reach and are moving along at a comfortable seven knots. With flat seas! SWEET!

We will arrive in La Paz just two days short of a month from leaving San Diego. I think we are all a bit weary and ready for land. I know Jay and I are anxious to see Cadenza.

We are told she did well during the hurricane, but still she is undressed. There is much to do before we can take her out and sail her again. We need to rig the sails, hook up the electronics and fix the dinghy. We need to clean and reorganize and provision.

Once she is ready, we will take her for a test sail to the islands. After that we will prepare to cross the Sea.

Next stop – Mazatlan.

Another adventure awaits.

The Morning After

November 26, 2014

Nothing says a rough night than Ramen for breakfast.

It was dusk and I was at the helm. The seas and wind had calmed down and it was a mellow ride as we sailed with the sun setting to starboard. In my last hour, the wind starting picking up and when I handed the helm over to Bobbi & Don, it had increased to 10-15 knots from the east. On Bobbi’s watch it kept increasing and when she handed it over to Don at 2300, she was seeing 19-22 knots. At 0100, Jay took my watch (I would take his watch at 0300) and the wind had decreased to 15 knots. But not for long.

Jay was blessed with our first gale of the season. What had started out with 15 knots from the east with seas building (also from the east – which meant waves on the beam) became 32-35 knots with seas – well it was too dark to measure – but suffice it to say they were breaking over our boat. We had one reef in. We should have had two. But again, no one called for this wind. Actually, they called for it to calm in the evening to 10-14 and then to 2-4 knots in the morning. No such luck. (We were passing a low-lying and narrow part of the Baja pennisula and Jay wondered if these winds were the after-effects of the Screamin’ Blue Norther that was haunting the Sea of Cortez.)

We saw a few white outs when the seas covered the boat. We were actually in the curl of the waves! And the mainsail got dangerously close to a knockdown way too many times. Don was on the low side. I was on the high side but I couldn’t stay there. It was wet and slippery and the seas kept throwing me around. I wrapped my arms around the winch and held on. I was collecting bruises one after another.

This was not distant. It was up close and personal. Nor was this romantic. It was a long and uncomfortable night with lots of prayers. We could only hope the butterfly angels were watching over us.

This was not fun. Not fun at all.

Dawn came and the seas and winds calmed as promised. All of us were exhausted but Jay, my hero, was the most exhausted as he stayed at the helm for the entire gale. He kept us safe and I am most grateful.

We rounded the cape around 1200. I must say, it was great to see civilization again. All the way down the Baja coast we passed few boats but now we saw plenty of fishing boats, a few sailboats, and even a few tourist boats taking their passengers on a snorkeling trip. A whale blew off our starboard and then slowly dove under, leaving its tail to wave hello.

Welcome to Cabo.

As we headed north to San Jose del Cabo the seas and wind were on the nose as expected. We hit 20 knots before we entered into the marina. Upon entering, I think we all exhaled a communal sigh of relief.

We docked at 1555 and went out for a much-deserved margarita and dinner. Sleep came easily as the wind howled on. We were safe at port.

November 25, 2014

We are underway. I love those three words. So much so, in fact, I get a wee bit jealous when I hear them over the radio and we are at port. It sounds so distant, so romantic, as they give their coordinates over the air. I listen to see if we might know them, or perhaps, we might meet them some time in the future, along the way. No matter, it is a welcome sound, another sailor’s voice sharing the same life, the same sea.

It is Tuesday, November 25, 2014, and we are underway. We left Bahia Santa Maria at 0715 with 15-20 knots of wind from the northeast and 3-5 foot seas, just as Geary predicted. We sailed for several hours before the winds rose to 25-30 knots.

I was at the helm, and it was quite challenging as we had too much sail up. The guys pulled in the Genoa to keep her from heading into the wind. Nobody called for 25-30 knots, but they wouldn’t have because this was a local weather event caused by the wind funneling out of Mag Bay as we passed the entrance. Once we passed the opening, the wind and seas calmed down.

Off our starboard beam, just 300 yards away, a whale jumped up and landed on its back. It did this over and over for about seven times. A little while later we saw another one. Mag Bay must be their hood as we saw them here last year too.

As I said in my previous blog, Santa Maria is where the clothes come off. I wear shorts with no shoes. Sitting on the bow of the boat, I leave my feet dangling over the side. Every once in awhile a wave slams against the boat, soaking my legs. It is warm and soft. I smile.

Another bird has come to visit and several beautiful yellow butterflies follow us for miles. I call them our angels.

There is excitement in the air. We are closing in on San Jose del Cabo and a marina. We are anxious to set our feet on solid ground. We long for a hot shower and clean clothes. Our freezer is empty. It is time to rest and rejuvinate and reprovision.

This is what it is like out here, underway. And this is what you might hear over the radio if you were out here with us.

This is Sea Dancer, Whiskey, Delta, Echo, 3252. We are underway. Our position is 24 degrees (can’t figure out how to make the degree sign on my computer.) .09′ north and 111 degrees .36′ west. The wind is 10 knots from the east northeast. We are 51 nautical miles south of Bahia Santa Maria. We expect to arrive in San Jose del Cabo tomorrow afternoon. There are four people on board; Don, Bobbi, Jay and Terri. All is well. Sea Dancer out.

November 23, 2014

Bahia Santa Maria. This is where the clothes come off. It is where the sea begins to change color and becomes a clearer blue. Not yet the sparkling turqoise color of the tropics, but not the deep, dense blue of the sea further north. The sky changes too. It is littered with large, white puffy clouds. It is much warmer here. Frigate birds appear. A sea turtle swims past the boat.

It is our first morning in Bahia Santa Maria and I rise just before dawn, having gone to bed at dusk (After a 32-hour journey). I am well-rested. I am curious to see the bay awaken with the sun so I head up to the cockpit. It is dry and warm – a perfect setting to begin my day with yoga. I need to uncramp and uncurl my body. Living in small quarters and continually trying to balance has lead to an aching back. I have learned that yoga heals everything – mind, body and soul – so I begin my daily routine.

The sun isn’t quite up yet, but dawn is on the horizon. I watch as the fisherman start their daily commute. It is Sunday, but still they are off to work, tending their many lobster pots, I presume. We found the minefield yesterday as we were entering the anchorage. Hundreds of buoys dotted the northwest entrance. Fortunately we were all good scouts and didn’t snag a one.

I sit here on a still morning, listening. I hear the roar of the surf as it crashes against the cliffs. Not ten feet away, a seal peaks its head out of the sea. Our eyes meet. A flock of pelicans, in perfect alignment, fly overhead. I look above and see their proud wingspan moving in tandum. Their wings through the air creates a sublte song, so peaceful, it could be a lullaby. All is in harmony.

This is one joy of cruising; the zen of morning.

Thursday, November 20, 2014

So much has changed and yet much has remained the same.

The streets are still dirt, lined with houses in various states of disrepair. And then… a beautiful door, a flower box, or a brand new Ford truck, adorns the shabby facade. It brings to mind hope against a starving background.

The pier still stands with its rickety stairs. Men work diligently to keep up the repairs. At the end of the pier on the beach is a newly painted wall; bright blue with large white letters, “Welcome to Bahia Tortuga.” It is a stark contrast to it’s neighbor; collapsed walls of a once thriving cannery.

As we walk toward shore, Jay wonders aloud what it must have been like during the days when Turtle Bay was a prospering village. He mentions, too, that he feels as if he has walked into a Steinbeck novel.

Enrique is still the dockmaster. Only now he has a different cast of characters. Gone is Pedro. The young man with one and a half arms. Maria too. When I ask Enrique, “Donde esta Maria, su hermana?” He replies, “No say.” Her restaurant is closed and she has vanished. Did she succumb to her old ways? Or did she go in search of a better life?

As we walk further, we find Rogellio in front of his house. He sweeps the dirt and tidies the beach he calls his front lawn. Next door, Antonio’s Bar is locked up tight. No signs of life.

“Donde esta Antonio?” We ask his father.

He has gone to Ensenada for a brief holiday after the Baja Haha, we are told. We will not see him this visit.

Dogs are plentiful here and as I wrote before, although they are covered with dirt and look like strays (One poor mutt looked like he was sporting dreadlocks for a do.), they are much loved. We watch as one man takes his two pets onto the pier and drops them twenty feet into the water. The dogs rise up out of the bay and swim to shore, bounding up to the pier, begging for another dump into the sea.

Paula’s La Palapa has replaced Maria’s restaurant. It sits on a hill overlooking the bay. Paula is a spunky lass who has a great sense of humor and loves to laugh at her own jokes. She speaks no English and we speak little Spanish, yet we communicate.

We frequent the restaurant twice while we are in Turtle Bay and both times she has two women friends visiting. One has a four year old son, Rueben, and the other a six-month old baby, Ophelia. Bobbi takes Ophelia into her arms and beams, proving she would be a natural grandmother.

Children will be children everywhere and as we walked down the road and over to a liquor store, three young boys charged past us and ran inside. What business they had there, I wasn’t sure until I saw a glass counter with a few pieces of candy behind it. All three boys’ noses were pressed against the pane, their breath fogging up the glass. One hand was dropping a coin on the counter, while the other was pointing to their choice. Treasures in hand, they ran outside, delighted.

Back at the boat, we watch as the fisherman gather several of their pangas. Working together, they drop a large circular net (about 500 feet) leaving one side open. Another panga begins to run up and down the open section of the net, chasing the fish into the net. Slowly, the pangas close up the circle and pull their catch onto their boats. It seems the local fisherman have learned a thing or two from dolphins.

While at anchor, we take the opportunity to provision. This will be the last town until we reach San Jose del Cabo next week. Enrique’s crew supplies us with fuel and water. Jay and Don go about the boat, checking the rigging and fixing the davits. They took quite a beating on this last leg.

It is time to move on. Bahia Asuncion is our next stop. It is only fifty miles from Turtle Bay and they are calling for winds, five to ten knots. We are hoping for enough wind to sail.

All during our stay in Turtle Bay, I was trying to get onto the internet. No luck. Jay was able to get his mail. Don was able to get his mail. But I was not.

I think this was God’s way of telling me, “Pay attention. Be present to what is here.” So there was no Obama, no Putin, no North Korea. No tales from home. Only a few cruisers, Turtle Bay, and those who call it home created my world for two days.

I have only been here twice. I may never be here again. But I will carry the memory of Turtle Bay and its people as we sail away.