The Day the Sun Went Away

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Where were you during Total Eclipse 2024? If this becomes a favorite conversation starter at future cocktail parties, we’re finally going to be part of the popular crowd who has a cool answer. People might start thinking of me as being somehow extroverted. Laugh, as they say, out loud. After years of struggling to be the person who has ready and interesting answers to leading questions during what can be awkward social events, I am finally prepared.  Quick! Someone invite us to a cocktail party so I can make small talk!

Where were we (you asked, interestedly)? Sailing along the path of totality with our spinnaker flying, real eclipse glasses at the ready, still a little stunned we had found ourselves in exactly the right place at the right time to witness this surely historical event in the heavens.

These party boats are quintessentially Mexican. They will play a role in our decision making later.

We’d gone to Mazatlan, ground zero for all the huge eclipse parties and the destination of close to a million visitors putting feet on the ground, preparing to be wowed. Even NASA was showing up with scientists, extremely interesting telescopes, and (oh, my heart!!) MOON ROCKS! And people would apparently get to touch the rocks! Had I known in advance that would have been possible, I may have had to medicate myself and buy a ticket. Thankfully, they were sold out by the time I connected the dots between Mazatlan and the eclipse. Blissed out from rock hunting at Los Muertos, it didn’t really register on my radar. I was too involved with porphyries and breccia; earthly things, you know. Not heavenly bodies of any kind. When you are totally focused on the here and now of where you are in time and space, the future holds little interest.

Lest you think Mazatlan had no rocks, I spotted this beauty on the beach near The Observatory. If this is what I think it is, it’s the most stunning breccia I’ve ever seen and i regret not being able to get down to the beach to pet it.

So in spite of the many hundreds of thousands of people descending on Mazatlan for the eclipse, we were not among them. At least, not deliberately. We went there to see our friends on S/V Copacetic, Zaq and Lisa, before they returned to Canada to fill their cruising kitty after their first successful season aboard. We had not even secured a marina space. Somehow, though, they managed to have a last-minute slip for us at Marina Mazatlan, two docks down from our friends.

The eclipse was a bonus, and the fact that the boat next to us was selling eclipse glasses to raise money for the local animal rescue organization seemed a stroke of good fortune. Less than an hour after docking the boat, I overheard another cruiser collecting his glasses from the boat next door. Did they have extras? They did! We took two pair and handed over our pesos. We figured we would stay in the marina a few days, and then hang out in the Stone Island anchorage and view the eclipse from there. Things were really lining up for Team Galapagos! We had a great visit with Zaq and Lisa, grateful as we always are for the friendships made during our trips, and hugged them goodbye on April 3 to go drop anchor at Stone Island. We figured it would get crowded with boats as the days passed and we were not wrong. We settled in to wait and enjoy our time there.

The canals in Mazatlan yielded up some fine bird watching with Zaq and Lisa, a great dinghy explore. Here’s a Yellow Crowned Night Heron for you.

Black Necked Stilt; a new bird on our exotic bird bingo cards!

We had some Black Spiny Tailed Iguanas posing for us on the rocky hill behind La Caleta. Worth a climb, even if the rocks were pretty boring.

But have you been to the Stone Island anchorage during a time of celebration? Or anywhere in Mexico populated by people? Because if not, I assure you that it is what I would call ‘high energy’.  It had been Holy Week while we were at Marina Mazatlan. This is the Mexican equivalent of Spring Break and is a time of great celebration culturally. There are a lot of parties and no one parties harder than Mexico. Americans could learn a thing or two about being able to have a good time with their fellow country-people.  We were kind of partied-out by the time we left the marina.

Stone Island anchorage in the distance. Galapagos on the left. Taken from The Observatory in Mazatlan.

At the anchorage, there were already a number of cruising sailboats. Hundreds of people lined the beaches with many Banda bands competing for their part of the airwaves, many party boats (also with Banda bands), and a lot of those fun looking Banana Ride boats where people basically ride on a long, narrow banana shaped floaty and get pulled at light speed through the water. For a couple of days all of this is wildly entertaining and if I was in the right mood, I’d probably enjoy the party atmosphere on one of the catamarans, even with 200 of my closest friends I’ve never met yet. I’ve never heard so many bands with tuba and unlimited snare drums in my life.  After a while, though,  it is, in a word, overstimulating. Mazatlan was a madhouse.  I was done being there long before April 8, the day of the eclipse. We decided to get out and see the eclipse by sea.

Interestingly, and we didn’t know this before we went, there was some big kerfuffle in Mazatlan regarding these Banda bands and how they are everywhere all the time on the beaches. Unlimited Banda music is apparently not the thing foreign tourists in Mazatlan are after and some of the hotel chains were wanting to limit the performances. The musicians, who depend on this music for their livelihoods, took to the street in protest and won their case. But it’s interesting that people would come to an area to visit and think that somehow the local folks should change the culture just for them. I mean, we don’t have to like these bands. Personally, they are not my favorite. But I have a choice about where I go so if I am looking for a quiet day at the beach, perhaps Mazatlan is not the place I’m going to be. It would not occur to me to think that people in another country should suddenly decide to do things my way just because their way doesn’t please me all the time. I wonder at the narcissism that would allow people to make complaints like this; enough complaints that hoteliers would actually consider dialing back the amount of local music. Since covid, we have experienced a decided difference in the attitudes toward foreigners in the zeitgeist here. These kinds of issues do not help the anti-foreigner sentiment that appears to be taking root in certain areas.

Lest you think I am over estimating the number of people on the beach. I took this by cellphone as we hurried away from La Caleta.

The path of exact totality was actually a few miles south of Mazatlan, so we anchored up early the morning of April 8 and headed south, then west along the path the eclipse would take. Raising the spinnaker for the first time this trip, with its new ATN sock, turned out to be almost effortless and soon we were drifting along under the ‘pretty sail’. This was more than a symbolic victory for us. Our last spinnaker sock just was not adequate and the raising of the spinnaker generally resulted in what we called a ‘shit show’ on the foredeck. It was a lot of trouble. This ATN sock is brilliant and worth every penny. As the moon began to cover the edge of the sun, we took our positions on the aft deck, readying our protective glasses, prepared to be amazed; to be some of the first people on the planet to see this eclipse.

It did not disappoint! All kinds of gasps of awe and wonder were emitted from the aft deck of our boat as it glided gently out to sea. We honestly had not been prepared for that level of jaw drop. Now we understand why so many people travel so far and at such great expense to view a total eclipse of the sun. We got to bear witness to this celestial display for almost 4 1/2 minutes. I will never forget being in almost complete darkness, and yet able to see the sunlight on the horizon in all directions,  air temperature plummeting, looking directly at the sun; a mere wedding ring of fire around the moon; a momentary marriage of the opposites.

horizon during total eclipse

totality behind the clouds

pretty hard to get any kind of focused photo from a moving boat, but this was totality.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just as quickly as it went, when the barest sliver of sun emerged from behind the moon,  it instantly lit up the entire sky. Even that smallest of slivers offered a return to warmth and what seemed like complete daylight. We felt truly fortunate and maybe even a little primitive in our response to the sight. For even though we understand the science behind how this darkening of the light could possibly occur in the middle of a sunny day, the forces that shaped this event are beyond our capabilities to grasp. We stood as our ancestors would have, filled with wonder at what game the ever-capricious gods could be playing at and hoping the darkness and cold were not permanent. I was just that close to making some kind of sacrifice!

Just think of the deep symbolism of this event:  The sun, the fiery, life-giving divine masculine, representing thought and logic, personality and ego, directional growth toward goals, and all things that are evident and easy to see and measurable, being obscured, actually overpowered, by the moon. The moon archetype is the divine feminine, representing things that are hidden beneath the surface, growth and development that is beneath the level of awareness (think roots of plants in the winter, think the solution to a problem that suddenly pops into your mind from somewhere),  the water of emotions, the waxing and waning of natural cycles, intuition, creativity, even love. In our deepest moon moments, we dream and imagine. And in our broadest sun moments we plan and go forth and act. Were we to have only the sunlight and no darkness, life as we know it would cease to exist. Were we to have no sunlight, life as we know it would cease to exist. We need them both.

In four and a half minutes of total eclipse, the dual nature of life on earth comes into balance and stands still. I believe it is the longing for connection to these eternal archetypes that drives people to travel thousands of miles just to witness an eclipse. Even if people know nothing about symbolism, even if they are not particularly aware of their own spiritual nature (or even if they don’t believe they HAVE a spiritual nature), they are drawn to something so much bigger than themselves; something that puts our place on the planet in perspective. In a world where the next catastrophe feels like it could be just around the corner, a mere mortal push of a button, the eternal nature of the earth’s place in the cosmos is a comfort and a tonic for souls that are raw from the overstimulation of current events and trying to keep up with the mundane things of daily life.

When it was over we sailed on down the coast until we came to the town of Teacapán, where we dropped anchor for the night off the beach in about 25 feet of water over sand. While good holding, it would be a rolly night, which we accepted considering at least we would not have to stand watch if we were at anchor. In this way we avoided having to do an overnight to our next stop; Isla Isabel. This is a favorite place and where we still sit, anchored in the sand behind Los Monas; the guardian rocks of the anchorage on the east side.

It’s great to not be in a hurry. We have been able to explore every part of the island this time, even going out to the moon-shaped Islote Pelon, a rock islet off the north west coast. We did a snorkel excursion to that island. It was a bit of a disappointment but you never know until you go. I’ll leave you with a couple of obligatory photos of Blue Footed Boobies, one of the cutest birds on the planet and a key reason why people visit this island. Sure, they star in the show, but there is so much more to Isla Isabel than the blue feet of cute birds. We’ll do another post about that another day.

S/V Galapagos, standing by on 16 at Isla Isabel, where cruisers have not forgotten how to use the VHF radio!

 

Galapagos Man and His..Friend?

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Trigger warning: arachnid photo at the very bottom. Large arachnid. Very large.

Leaving Bahia Madgalena was not easy. I was feeling totally in the groove there and there was so much more to explore, but leave we did a few days after discovering Galapagos Man. 

I am in love with this sign pointing the way to an absolutely lovely trail across to the ocean.

Here’s the quick and dirty summary of the days since then:

We had a romping sail down to the Cabo area, got through Cabo San Lucas as quickly as possible (that place is God’s idea of hell for introverts), anchored for a night at a non-anchorage in front of expensive condos, and finally landed in the anchorage at San Jose del Cabo. In San Jose del Cabo we paid 100$ for a mediocre lunch at the hotel in the marina and were then allowed the use of their dinghy dock so we could go get provisions in town. There was a fire in the estuary, closing down the bridge between the marina and the town where all the shops are. Our walk into town was cut short by this news, but we were picked up by some kindly Canadians on their way into town on the old road; a dirt road of questionable safety and high traffic since everyone was passing through that way. Shopped for fresh supplies at Walmart and Ubered back to the dinghy, getting aboard Galapagos before the sun went down.

Back aboard we discovered that there had been some rough conditions while we were gone and something had slid against our faucet lever, turning on our water in the kitchen sink. We had maybe 20 gallons left. Dodged a bullet on that since sometimes I leave the sink stopper in the drain. This time, I didn’t. The following morning we filled up with fuel, dropped off garbage, back to the anchorage to wait out the day’s winds, and then did a late evening motor boat ride to the Los Frailes anchorage where we now sit hoping to be able to snorkel but realizing there are more high winds forecast. I have poked around in the beach rocks and discovered some lovely volcanic breccia. Whew. I need a break after all that.

Here’s that trail the sign points to.

But I promised an update to the discovery of “Galapagos Man“.

At the end of our story, we had reported our discovery to the Navy and had felt little satisfaction from it, even though it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t that I absolutely didn’t trust the Navy to take the appropriate steps, it’s just that I wasn’t sure I did trust them to do so. Basically, if you find something that feels this unusual, something that includes human remains, it’s kind of nice to know what it is you’ve found, even if it’s not technically your business. It’s also kind of nice to feel like the trouble you went to in order to report to the authorities was in some small way appreciated.  I had emailed the commander asking to be informed of any updates, but he never emailed me back and this doesn’t surprise me in the least. It seemed like they couldn’t get rid of us fast enough. And so, as usual, we prepared to take things into our own hands.

The internet is a treasure trove of information, including the names of archaeologists who study that area of Mexico. I located one such person and Michael, through his own brand of research magic, found an email address for her. I emailed her a couple of photos and told her the story, hitting send and crossing my fingers. The next morning I had a reply from her saying she had forwarded my email to two of her colleagues who were assigned to the Mag Bay area. Woooot!!

That being accomplished, I still was not ready to leave. There was a feeling of something being unfinished, like the task had not been completed. Fortunately, the next day was very calm. We would be motoring in sloppy seas and the last time we made that choice we determined that it was not a good one. We were not in a hurry, after all. And I wanted to go back and see the skeleton once more and see whether the Navy personnel had marked it in any way. (They had not. It was undisturbed, which was good. I assume they found it. But we’ll never know. )  So we motored back to the area and anchored close by, immediately dropping our dinghy and getting to shore to have a look.

I had a strong feeling that what we had found was not a recent grave due to the location and the condition of the remains. If there was one burial, there may be more that we had not noticed. We took the good camera this time.

Once back at the location, we began looking along the edges of the bluffs for signs of another burial. Very soon, Michael called me over to see what he was seeing. And there it was: a second burial. This time the remains were encased in the soft sandstone and you could see the outline of an elongated skull, with the lower jaw and teeth intact. You could also see rib bones and some other bone fragments. Our skeleton was definitely not alone out there.

Exploring further, I located an area where the sand was sliding over the edge of the bluff and located bone fragments that may or may not be human. There was also a location on top of the bluff where bones fragments could be seen in a contained area on the ground. I left those alone. I don’t know if these were human or not. But it’s entirely possible they are.

We both took many photos of everything, including close ups of teeth and specific bones, as well as broader view photos to help the researchers determine if this was something worth investigating. Michael created a Google drive for the photos and I sent the file, along with some notes, to the two researchers assigned to this part of the peninsula.

The following day I received an email back thanking us for the photos. Because they were able to see many details, including teeth, it was easily determined that these graves were pre-hispanic and that the area was a very old shell midden. So in this case, it is likely that the graves are from the Guaycura people who lived in this area before the Spanish came and, in a nutshell, killed them off. These remains are anywhere from several hundred to several thousand years old.

The obligatory photo of the stunning boulders on the trail. I have many more photos. Many.

There is no way to know at this point whether the government will take additional steps to save these remains and study the area. I imagine this kind of thing moves along at a snail’s pace and who knows how long it would be before any archeologists would have the resources and man power to make their way to that location. But we have done all we can do on this and at least we feel good knowing that someone who actually may be interested knows about the location and what may be there. I figure I will give it about 3-4 months, and then I’ll follow up with the guy I heard back from and ask if there are any updates. If I get any, I’ll post them here.

Also I realize it’s disappointing to some people to not have photos of what we found posted here on the blog. I was pretty excited when I wrote the last post, and after I’d had time to think about it, I decided it might not be a good idea to post photos of this discovery. It seemed disrespectful, in hindsight.  I do not want random people on the internet trying to find these remains or figure out the location.  Furthermore, in conversation with an American archeologist, I was informed about laws regarding the transmission of photos of indigenous artifacts and burials. I have no idea if Mexico has such laws. But what I do know is that a lot of indigenous people are truly offended by such practices and it would never be our intention to offend people in that way or make it seem like we do not understand that these burials are sacred. It just seemed prudent to take the photos down.

That’s the news from here. We are not sure how long we’ll be in Los Frailes. We think our next stop will be Isla Isabel, a favorite place. There’s some rather sporty weather coming on Monday. If that holds, we may ride that out here, safely tucked behind the big granite hill.

S/V Galapagos, standing by on Channel 16/22

Arachnophobes look away right now.

 

 

I’ve put this fascinating guy at the very end of the post so that certain readers who do not appreciate these kinds of photos can read the rest of the post without fear. He was walking along minding his own business on the trail and was unembarrassed when i asked to take his photo.

 

 

 

Galapagos Man? Is that you?

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I’m not sure how to say this, but we are still in Bahia Magdalena. After my last post I know alert readers will be assuming that this is because of all the beautiful rocks. This time, though, your astute understanding is misplaced. Let me tell you a little story.

Two days ago Michael and I went ashore for an afternoon ramble up the beach and along a trail. We hoped to find an interesting arroyo to explore but the main goal was just getting off the boat and stretching the legs. When we are out exploring we are always on the lookout for signs of death in the desert. It’s not morbid or anything. It’s just that life and death seem a little easy come, easy go here in the desert. We are always finding interesting things that used to be alive. Birds, fish, the occasional sea turtle shell and sea mammals. We approach these things and marvel at the bones and how the desert takes care of any disgusting bits right quick. Everything in the desert feels like it could either be dead at any moment or could kill you. Even the plants take offense to being walked by, some of them actually jumping on you with their many spines. Why we enjoy this is sometimes beyond my comprehension.

Animal skull for your consideration.

As always, I was on my guard for anything that didn’t seem to fit the pattern around it. This is my brain being in a meditative state as I walk along, always on the alert for something interesting. Yes, it’s usually a rock. But not always. My brain began to spin a story on its own, as brains will do when unattended and given little to do. The story went like this: what would happen if we found a dead body out here? To whom would we report that? Would we leave it by itself while we went for help? What would be the Spanish phrases we would use to report such an awful find?  What would the appropriate authority be? How would we contact them? Would they believe us?

To be clear, I was not being morbid and I cannot give you a reason why my mind went to this storyline. I wasn’t worried about anything at all. It just..appeared, as it were..in my head. I scolded myself for allowing such a dark fantasy to unfold but then noted that it really wasn’t anything more than a curiosity, probably caused by all the dead animals we had seen. I put it aside and looked at rocks.

The lovely Crested Caracara. Probably getting ready to kill.  Maybe another day we’ll get a better photo of one. He wasn’t too pleased with us getting closer.

The next day I had to work for a couple of hours. We had planned to leave Mag Bay after my workday was over. It would be one of those dreadful overnights that mean no one will get any rest. I had even made a pot of chili for the passage. But I just wasn’t feeling it. I wasn’t ready to leave, although I could not necessarily put my finger on why. It would be easy to blame my love of beach rocks for this, but that wouldn’t really be true this time. I have enough samples from this area and, as beaches go, the one we were anchored at was not all that intriguing. Some nice porphyries. But other than that, nothing much.  Still, I just didn’t feel ready. Plus the winds were truly howling and while I would rather sail than motor, I knew the seas would be pretty uncomfortable on what would be a dead downwind run. Getting the dinghy and outboard stowed might even be downright dangerous with the amount of wave action happening in the anchorage, which was on the south part of the bay. Apparently Mike wasn’t in that much of a hurry either because he quickly agreed that putting the dinghy up on deck in about 24 knots of wind didn’t sound like good entertainment. So we agreed on one more beach walk and we’d leave the next day. Winds would be fine for sailing, but not quite as boisterous. We went ashore.

Uphill to the desert floor.

We climbed up to the desert floor from the beach and walked around. There was nothing much of interest. So we walked a ways down to the beach level maybe 15 -20 feet below. I noted that the hillside was full of shells, although in this case there were only two varieties: old abalone shells and some sort of clam. I wondered if it might be an old shell midden, especially as the hill was fairly soft sand rather than the rock hard sandstone of the Pacific side of the island. We found a piece of dead sea turtle, then the shell of another one half buried in the sand. Really, I was just meandering with very little direction. The rocks were only mildly interesting at that point.

Deciding to walk further down the beach, I stopped to take a look at something I could see poking out of the sand about two thirds of the way from the beach level to the desert floor. It looked like a piece of turtle shell, and there were other bones around it. I couldn’t tell if they were fossilized, or what kind of animal they came from but because we had just seen turtle remains, that was my thought.

I saw a number of long narrow bones in a bunch sticking up from the sand, like so many drinking straws stored in a tall glass,  and gave one a little tug. Just the slight movement caused a big shifting of the sand holding them upright and they tumbled to the ledge like pick-up sticks. Hmmm, They looked like ribs. Were turtle ribs like that? My eye went to the curved piece of bone on its side in the sand that had caught my eye before. It looked like this was part of the turtle shell. I gave this a little tug. Really, not hard. I just wanted to see if it would move easily. It did. Strangely easily.

The thing suddenly gave way and something rolled off the ledge and onto the beach at my feet. It was truly surprising that such small movements had caused such a big response. It was like the thing threw itself off the ledge. I reached down and turned the thing over.

You’d think that words wouldn’t be adequate to describe the shock that was seeing a human skull staring up at me from the sand. And you’d be right. I gave some sort of strangled squeak and yelled out, “Mike! That’s a human being! That’s a human being!”, taking a big step back.  Mike reached out for my arm, but neither he nor I can say why. He said he couldn’t really see the thing from the angle he was looking at and thought he needed more data, although how “That’s a human being” is not enough data is hard for me to fathom. We were both just shocked. First off I noted what nice teeth it had. Shock will do strange things to the mind.  We both took a few breaths as we stared at the blank eye sockets, trying to make sense of this thing. Not. A turtle. After all.

Not feeling happy about leaving it apart from its brethren up on the ledge, I used the pick end of my rock hammer to gently lift it up and replace it. Not exactly where it rolled from, I later realized. But at least with the rest of the bones. Putting the pointy end of my hammer through the eye socket, I felt nothing. Just this blank necessity to get it back up onto the ledge. I can still see the thing in my mind’s eye hooked on the pointy end of my hammer, I’ll never look at that hammer the same way again. Some moments get frozen in time, and that will be one of them.

Turns out what had rolled off the ledge was only the front part of the skull. Just the face. Which completely confuses me. Don’t things need to be round in order to roll?  I believe the bone I had pulled on was part of the back of the skull, which makes me feel mildly ill. I think about those ribs tumbling apart and how strange that was and STILL I DIDN’T SEE THESE AS POSSIBLY HUMAN BONES BECAUSE WHO WOULD THINK SUCH A THING? When I go back through photos I took,  I think to myself that of course they look human. And they look larger than I remember.  But at the time, it literally never occurred to me that we would find human bones in the desert. I guess from now on it will. But I do feel badly that I may have obscured important evidence through sheer ignorance. Where’s a nice sea turtle skeleton that no one cares about when you need one?

“Oh my god! I have the oddest sense of deja vú”, I said to Mike. Like it was surreal the feeling. We have all had those feelings, like we have been somewhere before when we know we haven’t, or we have had a conversation before when it’s the first time, actually. Scientists explain this in terms of how the brain records those things. But that’s only part of the picture and it’s sad to be so reductionist about human experience. I tried to put my finger on the feeling, Was it a dream I had? No, And certainly I had never found a human skeleton before. But then I recalled my little mind worm of a story the day before and it did send a number of chills down my spine. Mr. Galapagos Man? Was that you? Did you want to be found?

No longer interested in exploring, we returned to the boat to plot our next move. I felt unaccountably sad, troubled even, about leaving the skeleton on the beach now that he had been found. This had been a human being. And, naturally, the bones had been there a long time. But still, I felt oddly as though I were somehow responsible for them; like there was some expectation of protection of them laid upon me by forces beyond my reckoning. I realize it’s silly in the light of day, but that was the feeling anyhow and it’s still there. I was hoping that if we could go show someone where he lay, I would feel finished with this chapter, this episode of the travels. But I’ll have to find another way.

Here’s a different and more cheerful beach with no skeletons.  And some mighty fine rocks.

After contacting our friend Curt Brownlow (retired Coast Guard so he pretty much knows everything about happenings on the sea and also I credit him for the title of this post) we followed his suggestion to call the United States Embassy in Cabo San Lucas. They were so sorry we had experienced this (well, there’s no reason to be sorry. It’s not like we suffered a trauma) and suggested that we go to the Navy Base in Bahia Almejas, just a few miles away. We should report it there and they would know which other authorities to tell.

Linblad Expeditions had one of the National Geographic labeled ships in the area and we tried to contact them via radio. No luck. I thought commercial ships were supposed to have a manned radio but apparently not. This was two strikes for the cruise ships, which we had also tried to hail for a radio check last week. They may have been too far away yesterday, but today we tried to hail another one which was easily within range. Nope. Our hope was that they had some kind of hotline to the Navy base since they operate their cruises in Magdalena Bay all the time, leaving out of Puerto San Carlos. No one would answer the radio on the base, so maybe they had a phone number. BTW, they are leasing the National Geographic moniker, not actually sponsored by National Geographic.

Nothing doing with radio contact, we pulled anchor this morning and left Galapagos Man by himself on the beach, much to my internal distress. I totally wish we had been able to contact someone without leaving the anchorage. That way I would have seen with my own eyes that people had found the bones and would do right by them. But it was not to be. Anchoring in an area marked with an actual anchor on our charts, an area that is listed as an actual known anchorage in both guidebooks (along with comments about friendly Navy personnel who might give permission to go ashore), we called the base on the radio. We called and called and called. Channel 16. Nope. Channel 22. Nope. 11?12?Nope and nope. Try 16 again, double nope.  Honestly, getting people to answer a damn VHS radio in these parts is extremely frustrating.  But we figured since they were military, they already knew we were there and knew who we were.

The two communicators.

We were at least partly right as we watched a launch head in our direction. Waving them to the boat with all the friendly ‘Yes! Please approach us so we may speak to you!’ sign language we could muster , we watched as they circled us completely before pulling alongside. One man spoke fairly decent English, for which I was grateful. He began by saying this was a restricted area but I found myself cutting him off to tell him that we were there to report that we had found an ‘escueleto humano en la play en Isla Magdalena sur!’. (A human skeleton on the beach of the south part of Magdalena Island)  If only I’d had a camera for his expression! “You found a body???”.  No, no, señor, uno escueleto. No body. A skeleton of a human.  He confirmed our meaning a couple of times. Now, I speak muy poquito Español, but I do know how to use Google translate. When I say ‘escueleto’ I mean skeleton.

Out came the radio to communicate this to his commander. (So. Their radio DOES work. In fact, they did hear us calling them on the base. They just chose not to answer. We think they sent the launch because this one seaman speaks English.) After a long back and forth with many questions and an opportunity to show photos of the find and then airdrop them to an iphone for the commander to view, it was decided that they needed to board our boat to inspect it. Well then, welcome aboard, seaman. Come on down.

At this point they wanted our travel papers and we took that opportunity to not be able to find them, even though they are always in the same place: a blue notebook in a certain location. I think the stress was catching up with us as neither of us could think clearly. Mike finally found the damned notebook exactly where it was supposed to be. They photographed everything in the notebook and then photographed the salon of our vessel. Fine. Too bad it was messy but that’s what you get when you drop in unannounced to visit people who have been at anchor for many weeks and only wish to do the right thing by the skeleton on the beach. The fellas felt badly about intruding but honestly, we didn’t care much.

It was a wild hope that they would take us back to the beach with them and allow us to show them where to look. I would have liked to say goodbye to the bones that used to be a person and that somehow chose me to find them. But my hopes were dashed when the young radio man asked if we had GPS coordinates for the location of the skeleton and Mike confirmed that we did. Now, I would absolutely have lied to the guy and said so sorry we don’t have coordinates, alas, to force them to let us go with them and show them ourlselves. But Mike isn’t the liar I am and he cannot lie with a straight face. I blame his mother.  Also Mike is ex-military, so there’s that.  Good lord, my husband, who is supposed to be on my side in these things,  actually showed the seaman on our Navionics chart plotter where he had made some kind of little icon to indicate where we found Galapagos Man. The trouble is that I am also ‘ex-military’ in that I grew up in the military and that’s how I learned the necessity of a good lie. It’s pretty much the only way to survive a military childhood. Regardless, the commander sent a launch to find Mr. Galapagos without the nosy Americans who find dead skeletons on their beach and cause all kinds of trouble and probably paperwork as well. I watched them go, filled with unaccountable sadness and maybe a little rage.

After they left, the port commander’s office radioed us and confirmed all the information about us and our boat, just to be sure. Then they told us we could not anchor there for the night and we would have to leave. I mean, thankfully it was only 2 miles up to Puerto Alcatraz. Against the 18 knots of wind and with those 18 knots against the outgoing current. All I have to say is this: those cruise books are outdated. I cannot even imagine asking to go ashore there, something both books referenced. Things change and so if you are heading down Baja way, do not expect to be warmly welcomed by the Navy in Almejas Bay. Even if you are there to report a dead countryman,

Now we are waiting to know whether anyone will bother to tell us what will happen to Galapagos Man. Is he old? How old? Is he from the indigenous people who lived here eons ago? Or is he more recent?  He doesn’t seem that old, but how do I know? Do we know how he died? Was this an intentional burial? Are there more people buried there? Were those shell middens we saw? We had hoped that when the launch returned from investigating they would stop by our boat and let us know they found him. But they didn’t.

After over an hour of searching, I finally found an email address for the commander at that base. I emailed him and requested information and a contact where we could follow up. Maybe he will get the email and reply, or maybe my email will enter the black hole that exists for my emails when I do things like email Mexican marinas using their own contact forms. They disappear, never to be seen or replied to. Or maybe he’ll ignore me like he did our radio calls. I’m pretty sure it’s the language barrier that gave him pause, and this I understand. I’ll give him a couple of days before going to Plan B.

Plan B is to contact a researcher I found on line, one who works for the Mexican government, if I can find an email address for her. Curt recommended we get a port captain to call the navy base at our next stop, so we can try that if we can communicate with them easily. Always a little luck of the draw, that.

Not human bones. Sea lion clavicles and spine.

We were supposed to leave two days ago. Then this happened and now we have missed our wind window. Tomorrow looks like it will be a motor boat ride. The seas will be extra sloppy with so little wind since it’s blowing like stink tonight. It’s not like we are really in a hurry, but we also feel overdue for leaving. We’ll wait and see what things look like in the morning.  But if we don’t go, maybe we’ll go anchor over by  Galapagos Man again so we can say goodbye, even though it’s actually quite a long way to go. I’m pretty sure he’s still there. Waiting for people to do right by him.

Edited: I have removed a number of photos to help protect the location of these remains.

S/V Galapagos, standing by and ANSWERING THE DAMN RADIO, on channel 16/22