Barra de Navidad

A young girl helps her mother at work.

February 16, 2018
Approximate location: Punta San Telmo

It is three-thirty in the morning. I am munching on Cheese Puffs and staring at the radar screen. There is a flashing light four miles to starboard and a tanker twelve miles to port. We are on our way from Zihuatanejo to Bahia Santiago and I am on watch. Our friends, Tony and Diane from s/v Dolce, are sleeping below. Jay lies next to me in the cockpit, resting. The wind is light. The seas are calm. The sky is filled with thousands of stars but no moon. There is nothing much to do but relax and enjoy the balmy night air. I think back to our days in Zihuatanejo.

February 13, 2018

One hundred gallons of water had been delivered and syphoned into our tanks. The laundry had also been delivered and put away. We scrubbed the boat inside and out (including 50 feet of smelly-fishy anchor chain) in preparation for our guests who will be crewing with us. We recharged the battery and put the charger away. Put out the jack lines. You know – boat chores. Our last chore for the day was to go to Telcel in town. But first, prep the dinghy.

Poor Patches. She is on her last legs. She is taking on water. She isn’t holding air. One tire has a big bubble in it and the hose to the gas tank split yesterday. Jay fixed that. Still, every single time we use the dinghy, it is bail and pump. Bail and pump.

We arrived at the beach and, as usual, the dinghy valets were waiting for us. They are a welcome sight. For a few pesos they help us in and out and watch our dinghies twenty-four hours a day. They are a friendly bunch and will help with anything if we ask. After visiting with them for a few minutes, we found our way to the Malecon. It was 85 degrees with 70% humidity. We were both exhausted. Sailfest had kept us busy and living at anchor takes work. Jay suggested we stop at the coffee shop and I readily agreed.

All coffee connoisseurs love this place. The owner not only grinds and brews each cup fresh, but he roasts the beans to your liking. It is a tiny shop with a few tables out on the street. Jay orders a mocha for him and an iced green tea for me. Weary, I sat down outside and observed this little corner of the world.

Zihuatanejo is different than we expected. Well, it is and it isn’t. We expected a small, sleepy beach town. And along the shore that is what we found. What we didn’t expect was how big the city is and how it stretches out in all directions from town Centro.

Centro is unique too, in its design. The Malecon runs along the beach as always, but it is shaded with palm trees. Shops and restaurants line the walk along with the local fish coop on one side. It is absolutely charming. We didn’t ever come upon the usual town square with the church on one side of the street and the civic center on the other with a park in the middle. What we did find were diagonal streets interlaced between the horizontal and vertical ones. Only foot traffic was allowed on the diagonal streets and the restaurants set up their tables and chairs outside. Evenings, these streets come alive with customers enjoying their meals under the stars.

I had a view of the beach from where I sat at the coffee shop, but it was the town streets that attracted my attention. Few cars passed this way. Across the street, a gringo sat outside his shop, sipping a beer. Paintings and photographs hung on the outer walls, as well as dresses. It seems he sells a little bit of everything. This is typical. Merchants sell whatever they get their hands on.

Another gringo, a tall, slender man with long hair and a beard, walked up to the shopkeeper. He wore swimming trunks, a tee-shirt and flip flops. He held a dog in his arms. The two conversed in English. From what I could overhear, they had just met. They chatted. They chuckled. “Don’t be a stranger.” The shopkeeper yelled as the tall man walked away.

A few minutes later, a young woman walked by. She was moving faster than most. Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose bun. She was barefoot and eating the last of a sandwich. Her eye caught a young Mexican man. Her friend, perhaps? She called him over. They spoke in fluent Spanish. After a few minutes, they bid each other goodbye and left in different directions.

This is how it goes here. The pace is slow. People take time to stop and visit. There is no rushing about. It is a much different lifestyle than the one I led when I had a career in Los Angeles and was raising two children. Here, the children walk home from school. We see them at their parents’ work. If old enough, they help. If too young, they sit outside and play on the sidewalk. There are no nannies. Just family. They might not be rich in pesos, but I’m thinking they are rich in other ways. Different lifestyles for different folks. I’m kind of liking this one; living in the slow lane.

Zihuatanejo

February 5, 2018

At first glance, the light glistens off the waves in the sea. If I look a little deeper, I might see a fish or a turtle swimming underneath. And if I look really deep… What might I find there? That is one of the pleasures of cruising; an almost forced opportunity to contemplate.

I used to lead a very, very busy life. As a television producer, I worked 50 to 60-hour weeks. With two children in the house, there were dance lessons to go to, choir practice, volleyball and basketball, Cub Scouts and Brownies, doctor appointments, recitals, homework and well, you know how it goes. And now, with modern technology bombarding the airwaves, the influx of news is constant. I found myself always running, running, running, always doing or planning. I loved that part of my life, but there was little time to sit still and just be.

My life is different now. Because of Jay, I have this incredible gift of living two lifestyles; one is our land-based home on Martha’s Vineyard, and the other is our west coast house, our boat, Cadenza, currently in Mexico. The real prize, though, is time. I have time to stop, look, listen. Time to look deeper.

I’m turning 60 this year. I’m okay with it, I guess. It’s just I am watching my body change and that is hard. My chin is sinking into my neck. Lines mark my face. Age spots are appearing on my hands. My skin is sagging. This is also the time of life where we watch our parents age too. A preview of what might be in store for us. Many of you know my mom suffered from Dementia. The long goodbye, I call it. We watched as her body functions started to cease, one by one. I have often wondered why. There must be some greater purpose for the aging process, but what? And then I read a really good novel, “Breakfast with Buddha.”

“Breakfast with Buddha” is about a middle-aged man traveling home to North Dakota to settle his parents’ estate. His sister talks him into taking her friend, Volya Rinpoche, a spiritual guru. Life lessons are learned along the way. It is sweet, humorous and thought-provoking. At the end of the book there are questions for the author. Below is one of them.

Question: “In explaining your belief system, you once made the following statement: ‘In a mysterious fashion not completely understandable to us, everything moves the individual toward humility.’ Please elaborate.”

Author: “If you are young, beautiful, strong, and talented and live long enough, all of that will be taken away from you. If you are tremendously rich, you can’t carry your wealth across the threshold of death. Those are facts, not tenets of any religion. For all but the most conceited or desperately insecure, it seems that you get wiser as you age, and that wisdom and humility go hand in hand. I know it isn’t that simple, and I know some older people who are far from humble. But it seems to me that life is a kind of boot camp, designed to break you down and build you up in a different way – if you let it. So, you lose your ability to sprint a hundred yards, but maybe you gain something more important in the process.”

My prayer has been to age gracefully. For me that meant physically. Now I understand that aging gracefully has nothing to do with the physical and everything to do with the spiritual. This little insight has opened a new window into how I look at my future.”

Thank you, Gail, for sharing this book.

Barra de Navidad

Gail, a restaurant guest, and George roasting Marshmallows

January 22, 2018

It all began when our friends, Walt and Shelly from SV/Dune, said they were leaving the marina soon and we should go out for dinner. “Great.” I said. “How about I make reservations at Barra Galeria de Arte and Restaurant? We have been wanting to take Gail there.”

Barra Galeria de Arte and Restaurant is just what it says; both an art gallery and a restaurant. One must make reservations because it is very popular. In fact, an evening spent there is more like an event rather than an ordinary dinner out.

I initially made the reservation for five people. Then it swelled to seven, then eight, and then back to seven. On the afternoon of our dinner, I passed Nancy from SV/Aldabra who asked if she could join us. “Sure. We actually have a reservation for eight now, but only seven people. You’ll be number eight.”

“I’m not certain, but I think Dolce might join us, and maybe Catatude. Do you think that would be alright?” She asked.

“Sure.” I said, not really sure at all. “They can probably accommodate us.”

This is how it goes with cruisers in Barra. We start our day with boat chores and when it gets too hot, we find our way to the pool. One person talks to the next who talks to the next and soon we have a party of twelve. It’s a very friendly community.

Around 5:30, we called the water taxi and headed over to Barra proper. It is about a five-minute ride in a panga. The lagoon is surrounded by mountains with palms trees lining the shore. Palapas stand behind them. The sun was low in the sky and the wind through my hair felt refreshing after the heat of the day. It was a delightful way to start the evening.

We all gathered on the rooftop of the Alondra Hotel. It has become a daily ritual where the cruisers congregate to watch the sunset. The bar serves drinks, but no food and is sparsely decorated, if at all. The décor is the view. The sunsets over the Pacific Ocean are stunning and everyone gathers around to wait for the green flash. (No luck for me, so far.) I find the evenings even more beautiful. As the sun goes down, the lights come up and the streets begin to come alive with people venturing out into the cool night air.

We left Hotel Alondra, walked two blocks and turned left on the avenue called Mazatlán. It is much like any other street in Barra. The road is narrow and lined with concrete pavers. On either side are low-lying, multi-colored buildings with small tiendas selling everything from fishing gear to clothing to toys to groceries. Their wares are neatly displayed and flow over onto the sidewalks so potential customers are sure not to miss them. Laundry hangs from second-floor balconies. Dogs roam the street while roosters pick at the trash. Music rings loud from cars as they pass by. What makes this street different, though, is the restaurant. In daylight, you might pass it, but at night, you can’t miss it. Painted a bright orange with potted plants on the porch ledge, it is what lies beyond the open doors that pulls you in.

After a short walk through a hallway, the entrance reveals a beautifully landscaped palm garden. It is the center focus of the restaurant. To one side, they have created a small beach setting, complete with a bonfire and four beach chairs. Tables are scattered about under the stars. Candlelight flickers from every corner. In the center of the garden is a large bird cage where cockatiels and finches sing along with the soft music piped in on the speakers. In the very back sits a lounge area with a wooden tequila-tasting bar. A very old Tamarindo tree reaches high into the sky.

On either side of the entrance hallway are two small rooms. The one to the right is called “Rosa” and is set-up for customers. The walls are covered with local artists’ paintings. The other is the “Galeria.” It is filled with photography by the owner, Robert. He has all kinds of photos, but it is his portraits that I find most captivating. Robert has an eye for the human soul and reveals it in his art.

The restaurant/gallery is owned by Robert and Rosy. I believe he is Canadian (not really sure about that) and she is Mexican. The photography is his. She is the chef. The building has been in Rosy’s family for generations. In fact, Rosy was born in the Galeria room. This is her home and there is no other place she would rather be. Some of her recipes have been handed down from her grandmother. To that, Rosy has added her own artistry. Only two meals are offered per evening. One is always a variation of a chile relleno and the other is usually a meat dish. The food is exquisite and we have never been disappointed.

When we enter, we are immediately enchanted by the setting. Robert comes over and welcomes us. He shows us to our table. Suddenly our eight becomes nine as our yoga instructor, Sandra, joins us. Meanwhile, Mark wanders back to the lounge and finds a lone sailor sitting with his dog. He invites Dave and Bernie to join us. Now we are ten.

After the drinks are served, we are offered a complimentary appetizer. Tonight, it is two fried tomatoes with a cilantro sauce. I ordered the chile relleno with chicken. Jay ordered the barbecued ribs. The platters come with fresh steamed vegetables and rice. Dessert is chocolate cake. I decline and Jay accepts. I surrendered and took a bite. And then another. And another. We are then served a complimentary shot of tequila. Robert joins us and makes a toast. He has been a constant presence to the customers throughout the evening, chatting and making sure all our needs have been met. The very last surprise is marshmallows on sticks. We are invited to sit around the beach fire and roast them. A fitting ending for a perfect evening.

I have wondered what it is, exactly, that pulls us in to the restaurant. Could it be the soft glow and flickering of fire? Or, maybe it is more than that. Maybe it is the spiritual energy of Rosy’s ancestors that lures us in.

Barra de Navidad

January 12, 2018

On the trip down from Punta de Mita to Barra we had other problems too. Our engine kept coughing and then would quit. A little concerning. Jay attributed it to the big waves and our rocking and rolling kicking up the sludge. He said it was probably getting caught up in the lines, cutting off the fuel. He went below, gave her some oil and switched from the port tank to starboard. All was good for a while.

Then, five miles out of the entrance to Barra de Navidad, the engine started coughing again. Jay rushed down below, put on the fuel pump, gave her some more oil, checked the bleed screw and tightened some hose clamps. She came back and we made it into the marina with no more issues.

Once the boat was settled down, we could see that the fuel filter was filthy. We decided it would be prudent to polish the fuel tanks. And was it ever!

Jay opened the port tank and not only did he find it full of black sludge, (They filled up a lasagna pan with it.) it was completely empty of diesel! How could this be? It’s true, we don’t have fuel gages, but we are very careful to log our engine hours and keep track that way. It was so disconcerting, it kept Jay awake all night.

The next morning, after Jay, the mechanic and two other guys polished the port tank, they opened the starboard tank which was entirely full. Now we were really confused. It turns out, the lever that switches from the port fuel tank to the starboard fuel tank was filled with sludge too, so when we thought we were switching over to starboard, we weren’t. The guys took all 65 gallons from the starboard tank, ran it through a filter and put it in the port tank. Then polished the starboard tank. They also cleaned the filters and lever.

Today we went over to the fuel dock and filled the starboard side with another 65 gallons. Cadenza purred her way back to the marina.

What can I say? It’s a boat!

It had been a tough day. Not dangerous, just tiring.

We left Paradise Village Marina the day before and anchored in Punta de Mita. All was well until the morning when the windlass wouldn’t pull the anchor up. It was sticking. After about thirty minutes, Jay was finally able to raise it and we were on our way.

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was just rising and the seas were relatively calm. After breakfast, Jay went below to work on the windlass. Moaning Myrtle (Our name for the autopilot thanks to our friend, Alison.) was driving the boat. Gail, who was visiting from New England, and I were chatting, looking for whales and enjoying the beauty. Our plan was to take a day trip to Ipala and spend the night there. Then on to Chamela for a couple of days, followed by a stop at Tenacatita and ultimately to Barra de Navidad where there is a marina. What is the saying? “I make plans and God changes them.”

Around 1300, I noticed white caps behind us and knew that the wind was beginning to pick up. It wasn’t long before the wind was a steady 25-30 knots and the seas rose to 10 to 12 feet. I took it off auto pilot because it was too much for her to handle. We were flying south. Sometimes we would sail down a wave at eight knots. Meanwhile, Jay was still below trying to fix the windlass.

We were running dead downwind. With the waves pushing us around, it was a constant challenge to keep Cadenza in the pocket so we wouldn’t jibe. I did fairly well, but I did jibe once. At exactly the wrong moment. Jay was about to put the windlass back together and had the bolt in hand when the jerking of the boat forced him to drop it in the anchor locker. Gone. Now what?

We couldn’t go into Ipala even if the windlass was working because of weather conditions. It is a fair-weather anchorage. And with the windlass not working properly, we didn’t want to take the chance we would have to pull it up with the hand lever. Certainly not with one hundred and fifty feet of chain out and a 65-lb. anchor. The decision was made to skip the anchorages and go all night. We would arrive in Barra in the morning.

The wind calmed down around 2200 and the waves soon followed. The moon rose. It was a bright orange as it came up from behind the mountains. Absolutely beautiful. And almost full! The rest of the night was exactly what you dream of for a night sail. Calm wind and smooth seas.

Some time in the middle of the night, I was at the helm and looking up at the mainsail. I noticed something on the port side. I leaned over to see what it was. “Oh my God! What is that? Do you see that?” I asked Jay and Gail. It was a big white bird like nothing I have ever seen before. It’s wingspan was probably four feet and they were fluffy. It stayed there by the spreaders just flapping its wings. “It’s a bird! No, an angel! Maybe it’s my father. Or Mom. Or maybe Jack.”

“Are you hallucinating?” Jay wanted to know.

“No! Look!”

Both Jay and Gail saw it. It stayed for about a minute. As it flew away from the boat, I followed it with my eyes and it disappeared. Literally!

The next morning, I asked Gail, “What do you think it was?” She sat quiet for a moment.

“I don’t know.” She said. “But it was special.”

December 18, 2107

I am beginning to get excited about cruising again.

Ever since we arrived in Mexico, Jay and I have had a bit of an on-going battle. I wanted to make a plan. I am a planner. Jay said, “No. Wait. No plans. No dates. It adds too much stress. Not until we get the boat back up and running.” Well, you know what that means; a lot of work and not a lot of fun.

And despite Jay’s comment to the contrary, when people asked, ” What are your plans? When are you heading south?” I promptly replied, ” Zihuatanejo . Hopefully, around January 2nd.”

Just because we had our boat hauled out of the water, cleaned and replaced the packing gland, extended the stuffing box, replaced the cutlass bearing and drive shaft, checked and changed thru-hulls, changed the zincs, painted the bottom of the boat and put her back in the water, doesn’t mean we were done and ready to cruise. Not even close.

The boat yard still had to return our davits. On one side, we had a deep crack, so they were taken off to fix it by welding. The welder wanted it to look good when he was finished, so he took off both arms so he could paint them before putting them back. In the process of reinstalling them, the opposite side cracked. Now it needed to be welded. Sounds simple enough, right?

Well, it was two weeks before Christmas and it’s Mexico. We started requesting the davits to be fixed last summer. If we took them off again, who knows how long it would take for them to be returned. (Meanwhile, January 2nd was looming over us like a dark cloud. Me and my big mouth.) We need davits to carry our dinghy. No dinghy, no cruising. Speaking of the dinghy…

We have a new name for her, Patches! Because that is what she is made of – a bunch of patches. Another job that had to be completed.

The backstays had to be replaced too. They were ordered in August. They arrived and sat in the Customs office for awhile and then were returned to South Carolina because of a lack of the required paperwork – a new procedure. We are told that since our President took office, some things have changed here in Mexico. They no longer look approvingly on our importing stainless steel from the United States. On December 11th, we were still awaiting their arrival. Obviously, safe rigging is a must. No backstays, no cruising.

And still, I insisted on throwing out the January 2nd date. Poor Jay. I really didn’t mean to pressure him. I just needed a plan.

One of our two alternators was fried. Our neighbor, Gadabout, took a direct hit from lightning. (By the way, Gadabout is a Tayana ‘ 48. When we were in La Paz, our neighbor, Barbara Ann, was also a Tayana ‘ 48 and it got hit by lightning too. Hmm….) Getting that fixed and working was a two-week dilemma which really wore on Jay.

With so much energy in the atmosphere, there was bound to be gremlins lurking about the boat. And there were. Besides the alternator, the exterior mic for our radio was shot. We ordered that from Amazon Prime and our friend Stephanie’s daughter is bringing it down with her later this week.

The solenoid was stuck on the windlass, so Jay got busy fixing that. He fixed the macerator wiring too. He repaired the wire from the starting battery to the Xantrex Controller. We had the fuel filters changed and our generator and outboard serviced. We filled our tank with propane.

But on December 12th, we were still waiting for the rigging, the davits, and the alternator. All must-haves before we can go cruising.

Jay looked at me. I looked at him. No words were spoken but January 2nd was like an imaginary wall between us. He went to see Elizabeth, our boat caretaker. She got on the phone and made several calls. When Jay came back he said, ” All I can say is you don’t want to be on the bad side of Elizabeth.” The very next day, it was amazing. Everyone showed up.

The rigger with the rigging. Alvaro with the fixed davits. The alternator came back and was installed. The generator was returned. So unusual is this, our neighbors came by and stood watching, jaws dropped. ” How did you make this happen?”

We gave credit to Elizabeth. She is tough and she gets things done. But, we discovered another motivating factor. It was nearing the 15th of December. Pay day. And the holidays were coming.

Yesterday, we got out the calendar and our cruising books. I put new waypoints in our Garmin. We are making a plan. I think we are going to make our January 2nd (or 3rd) cruising date. Yeah!

Now for the deep cleaning of the inside of the boat.

December 8, 2017

10. The Puerto Vallarta Airport has been beautifully remodeled only they didn’t finish it. Loose wires dangle from the aluminum tubes exposed from the open ceiling.

9. Dozens of people stand on the side of the walkway as we exit customs, offering free tequila and the opportunity to buy a timeshare.

8, When we walk out from the air-conditioned airport we are wrapped in a sultry heat that smells of corn tortillas and lard.

7. The hotel elevator is broken and we are on the fourth floor. It breaks down five more times before they finally get it fixed.

6. Iguanas and crocodiles are our new neighbors.

5. We are awake for most sunrises and they are spectacular to witness.

4. A young Mexican woman gives up her seat for me when the bus is full.

3. The streets sing with music.

2. Sunday church service is packed and the entire congregation breaks out in song, giving me goosebumps.

1. Cadenza purrs through the water.

Returning to Paradise Village Marina

April 30, 2017

I sit here on my couch, at home on Martha’s Vineyard, staring out my front window. I am mesmerized by the bright light of sunshine. We have been here four days under a bed of clouds and chilly temperatures. We have seen rain for the first time in almost five months. Today, with not a cloud in sight, I watch spring unfold.

The birds have come back to nest in our trees, their songs light and airy, as they are, themselves. Rich, tonal sounds accompany them as the wind gently blows through the chimes hanging outside our bedroom window. Along the front of our house, the hydrangeas’ limbs stretch out, bursting with buds in anticipation of the sun and warmth. The lilac tree, too, longs to bloom. Her leaves are open. Surely, the blossoms are soon to follow. But it is the young cherry tree, in the center of our yard, who will win this race. Her buds show a hint of red and youth is on her side. Already the grass is a deep green after weeks of rain. Today, I will work in the garden, but I will have rainboots on to combat the mud and I will wear a jacket to keep warm.

How different the landscape here is from the tropical jungle that surrounds Puerto Vallarta. It never ceases to amaze me, how far and how fast one can travel in such a short time. It hasn’t even been two weeks since we left Mexico and yet, it seems to me, a dream. I remember back to our last days, cruising, when we had just celebrated my birthday along with the successful rescue of Molly J and we were awaiting a weather window to head back to port…

I would like to say it was good karma. We only had to wait two days for the good weather, and when we left Chamela Bay, the seas were flat and the wind was calm. We were on our way at dawn and arrived at Ipala prior to sunset. Just outside the anchorage, while we were dropping the sails, our motor started stuttering, as if it would quit. I looked at Jay, startled. (All I could think about was the Molly J and her engine problems. Wouldn’t it be – sadly – ironic?) “Put it in neutral!” He told me as he ran below. He assessed the situation quickly and added oil. She was only thirsty. We had been pushing her hard, running her at 2000 rpms compared to our usual 1500. She is an old engine and needs attention. Once filled with oil, she purred, relieving our anxiety. Lucky for us, we still were the first ones in the anchorage and settled in for a good night’s rest.

The following day, our good karma continued. We left Ipala at dawn, again, and rounded Cabo Corrientes it the early hours of the morning. What could easily have been a rough ride, considering the opposing currents and waves, turned out to be a smooth one. Upon reaching Banderas Bay, we were greeted by a couple of whales and 15-20 knots of wind. We had a great sail home.

As we were approaching the entrance to Paradise Village Marina, we heard a loud sound. “What was that?” I asked Jay, looking up to the sky. I couldn’t see it at first because of the sail, but then, there it was! A plane! “Oh!” I felt so silly. Of course, it was a plane. But there it was. It pointed up how – when we are cruising – it can be like going back in time, when life was not filled with planes, trains and automobiles, or inundated by technology. Life may have been harder then, but in some ways, much simpler.

Back in the marina, we spent two weeks putting Cadenza to bed and saying goodbye to our friends. It was the first step back into a frenetic world and prepared us, somewhat, for our reentry into the U.S. of A.

On April 18, we left Mexico and spent a whirlwind week in California, surviving the freeways and visiting our children and grandchildren. We are now back on our island, where the pace is much slower, and much more to our liking.

Our life is very different here. We dig in the dirt, plant flowers and cut grass. We have a television and we drive a car to the store. We love our earthly existence, although it is quite tame compared to our adventures at sea. We are grounded, it is true. But not for long! Our 18′ Herreshoff catboat, SkipJack, is to be launched May 10th and we will sail again. Maybe even cruise out for a weekend or two. You see, you can’t keep an adventurer down for long.