Author Archives: Melissa

The weak Link

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We have reached the next level of game play here on Galapagos. This is the level where all the sunny skies and lovely sailing are behind you and what’s left is all of the endurance without the fun (except we did have dolphins this morning). When we beat this level we will get sunny skies again. But for now suddenly I remember why people live in houses on land, houses that don’t ordinarily roll wildly underneath you all day and all blessed night; houses that don’t suddenly throw you against the wall as you are innocently walking down the hall; houses that don’t seem like they are out to get you.

When we are in challenging conditions like we have been the last two days, energy levels get micromanaged. Everything becomes an energy drain. Cooking? Too much energy and possibly too dangerous. Give me the protein bar and move slowly away. Going to the bathroom? Make sure it’s worth the effort. Make it count. Brushing teeth, combing hair, putting on fresh clothes- these things do not happen. It’s not that they are not important. It’s that I begin to be too tired to care. Because the other thing that doesn’t happen is good sleep.

In terms of mental health, good sleep has been my soap box for decades. Without it mood declines rapidly. Irritability increases, carb cravings begin, anxiety level goes up, the thoughts turn to darker things. The logical brain takes a time out. Sound sleep is a basic tenant of good mental hygiene.

Watch schedules are really the weak link with only two of us aboard. I do not function without decent sleep for very long. Mike does better, but for how long? People need deep restoring rest in order to make good decisions. During the first week of the passage we had benign weather conditions with lovely easy sailing. We had several days where we did nothing to the sails. The wind was steady from the right direction and the boat practically sailed itself.

Because it didn’t take much energy to keep the boat moving comfortably, sleep was not only less critical, it was easier to come by. Frequent cockpit naps helped fill in the gaps left by not getting at least 7 straight hours of shut eye at night. It wasn’t perfect but it would do. But as this weather system passes over us bringing squalls with variable winds and bigger seas it’s a whole different world out here. The rig and course require constant attention and tweaking.

Mike is experimenting with sleeping in the cockpit, a plan that gives me doubts that he is really sleeping deeply but considering he doesn’t sleep much below either, then what difference does it make? When he is below his little spidey senses about what’s going on with the boat don’t allow him to really let go and rest. I guess if he starts seeing things that I can’t see, especially if he also talks to them, then we will have a different conversation.

My suggestion of heaving to, where you back wind the sails and allow the boat to drift slowly, thereby allowing the crew to rest, has not been met with enthusiasm. It would involve removing our inner forestay so that the sail would not rub against it. While it’s not terribly hard to remove that, it’s made to be removed not permanently mounted, it’s not something you want to be doing on the fore deck in heavy weather. We like having it attached to the fore deck as it gives us an extra feeling of safety in terms of the rig, an extra piece of rigging supporting the mast.

So last night we compromised by putting away the headsail and slowing the boat way down. It wasn’t a perfect solution as we were still making way and occasionally we would be smacked around by a big wave. But it was better than nothing and I slept soundly.

Today is a new day and hopefully there will be pasta for dinner.

Sent from Iridium Mail & Web.

Uno Mas* Garbage Run

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“Did you feed your pet this morning?” This is Mike’s question as I pop my head up the companionway, coffee in hand, ready to listen to the VHF radio net which is our morning entertainment. There is a certain comfort of familiarity in hearing the same boat names check in each day, even if we have never met any of them in person.

“Of course I did! I am a good mother. In fact, I am a bread mother. I am the best bread mother ever.” The idea that I would forget to feed something depending on me for food is ridiculous. I should be insulted. That’s right. We have a new pet of living organisms aboard the boat. It’s my sourdough starter. Tired of feeling envious of all the other boat dwellers who have furry friends on board, I decided to start a little life of my own, a little colony of yeasts that look to me for feeding. I’m imagining watery-eyed yeast creatures waiting for their daily slurry of flour and water. Yes, it’s come to this. I’m not going to say that boat living doesn’t come with costs.

It’s time for Winston’s evening meal. He has stopped bubbling, his way of sulking.

This sourdough thing has opened up an entire new world of opportunity for baking so today I will spend some precious interwebs time adding sourdough muffin and bread recipes to my recipe app. I’m so excited and easily amused. Sourdough banana bread, sourdough gingerbread, sourdough cinnamon muffins, sourdough Irish soda bread, sourdough naan… so many delicious things! And best of all will be the sourdough sweet potato pancakes that I will serve with ginger syrup that I made when I candied a bunch of ginger lately. So tasty. I’m saving that for a special day. I’m not sure when that day is going to be. Probably after we eat the Spinach Feta Egg breakfast muffins I have ready to pop in the oven for departure day. I hope I bought enough flour. Maybe one more package and another dozen eggs. Sometimes I forget there are only two of us aboard when I’m planning all these things.

Oh, for those of you who got excited about our cilantro experiment whereby I packed chopped cilantro in lime and oil, I’m not sure it’s going all that well. I mean it still smells good, but that nice fresh green color is gone. I may need to just freeze some. A life without cilantro is less pleasing. Especially because we will be catching fish.

This document cost us less than 20$. Notice something missing? Yeah apparently I do not have a last name. But that’s fine. I’m not going back to ask them to fix it.

And now, in a move that makes this all feel extremely real suddenly, we are checked out of Mexico. Technically that gives us 48 hours to leave, although if it takes a day or two longer, which it undoubtedly will, no one will care. Checked. Out. Of Mexico. I’m not sure how to feel.

Two of our three officials. So much stamping!

See that group of uniform-clad men looking official on top of that cement bulwark? That’s Mike and friends getting us checked out of Mexico, getting our zarpe. A zarpe is a piece of paper that says that you’ve taken your boat over to another marina, waited for officialdom to walk down and take photos of your vessel and compare the serial number of your engine to the one they have on record, then stamp all the things in sight with their big authoritative stamp. The stamping of paperwork here in Mexico is next level. I love it. They take your little FMM form that says you are in the country legally, stamp your passport, stamp all the other papers, hand you a fancy document, and then you are cleared out.

No one came aboard. Two of the three men never even approached the boat. I’m not sure they even looked in our direction. We had a representative of Customs, Immigration, and a Navy guy. I mean, I tidied up below and got our off shore life vests out in preparation for an official visit. I was mildly disappointed. I would have offered them ginger candy had they come aboard.

I said he was welcome to come aboard, but he wasn’t interested. He just wanted to match the serial number on our engine with what his records showed. Mike is wearing his safety mask. He took several boat photos. I don’t know why so many.

We pulled off this checking out business without a hitch. It was completely no drama from the initial visit to the Port Captain’s office, to the docking in Nuevo Vallarta (thanks Mika and Jim for catching lines!), to the check out process, to the leaving the dock, and getting back to our anchorage to the exact spot we left. We even got back before the afternoon thermal winds kicked up. Woo hoo! Nailing it!

Our list is getting very short. Things are looking good here for getting this passage started. Yesterday I made it to the Mega Foods and was not turned away because of age. And frankly, there were many people in that store who were very clearly much older than me so… I got my fruits, vegetables and meats and took an Uber back to the marina. I love Uber and am grateful when it’s an option. I will miss the prices in Mexico’s grocery stores. And their fresh produce.

Mike had gone to Nuevo Vallarta, again by Uber, to get the paperwork started for the check out today. We both finished up at around the same time and met back at the marina just as the winds were piping up for the afternoon game of ‘is this anchorage crazy or what?’. It’s always a thrill getting onto the boat from the dinghy in these windy and wavy conditions, especially with heavy bags of fruit, vegetables, meat and liquor. Timing is everything. The wave comes up: quickly hop onto the swim step and hold on tightly. The wave goes down: wait, hook leg around sturdy ladder for stability. The wave comes up: Mike hands one bag off to me and I swing that up onto the deck. The wave goes down: wait. Repeat until all bags are stowed safely on the aft deck.  You see that a person needs good rhythm to do this safely. We don’t want those liquor bottles broken.

I know I already posted this photo on facebook, but do you know how long it has been since we’ve had any kind of liquor aboard? Months. I’m excited. I told Mike we can’t open it until we get to Hawaii. I think he was gravely disappointed.

But wait! Liquor? Indeed. Where there is a will there is a way and this whole rule about Nayarit being dry right now (no alcohol sales, even beer), and Jalisco right next door being, as it were, WET, is a rule that, well, we shall say that rules get bent regularly. I mean, one man’s rule is another man’s opportunity. And so we will not leave Mexico without tequila and rum. Maybe the choices were limited, but we do love that Centenario tequila so that’s going to be cracked open when we land in Hawaii and we will just hope that some of our limes are still good by then. Wait! I know! I will juice them and freeze the juice. Yes!!  Thank you enterprising local entrepreneurs! I have a few pesos left over and there will be no place to spend them between here and Hawaii so mañana I may go back for another bottle of something or other. Something for here. In this anchorage. Right now.

Tomorrow we will dinghy into La Cruz and walk around, maybe make a few last minute purchases (see previous paragraphs) to help the local economy along. And then we will be turning our old Family Truckster dinghy, the old Avon, over to Walter. (Recall that we were given this dinghy here in La Cruz last year. In fact, we are anchored behind the boat who gave it to us.) Walter is the guy who owns a sister ship to Galapagos. He keeps her in San Blas where she is awaiting a new engine just like ours. We are glad to pass our dinghy onto him and hope he gets as much use out of it as we did this year. It’s the perfect snorkeling platform even if it does need to be plumped up every morning. Now we are going to be back to using the Portland Pudgy, which we couldn’t bring ourselves to get rid of, and it’s a good thing we didn’t.

Walter paddled out to meet us aboard Galapagos so he could see our boat. We really wish we could have seen his, too but…Corona Virus shut downs. We couldn’t get into San Blas.

So now we have a conundrum. When do we actually leave? And this is where I think I may have made a grave error in judgement. I have already shopped. I am currently staring at a hanging bag of ripening bananas and avocados. My mixture for those Spinach Feta Egg muffins is already mixed and ready to bake. I checked my lists and checked my recipes. What I did not check was weather. Arrggh!!

For the next several days our wind is, in a word, nonexistant. Ordinarily this would not be an issue. We would just shrug and begrudgingly turn on the engine and motor off into the sunset. However, that will never do for this trip. We don’t want to burn that much fuel up front. We have about 2800 miles between here and the next fuel stop so every drop of diesel is precious to us. This is the first time we’ve had to consider this particular issue and it kind of snuck up on us, to be honest. We carry 222 gallons of fuel, which is a lot for a sailboat. But we don’t want to waste any if we don’t have to. So we can afford to wait until we can sail at least fast enough to keep us from wallowing in swells. Meanwhile, those bananas and avocados are going to keep getting ripe. I might have to rearrange the freezer once more to fit in some mashed fruit.

Jicama and avocados. Two things that are very affordable here, but not so much in Washington state.

The other thing I overlooked is the fact that we don’t carry any insurance except Mexican liability, which is required and is cheap. We (along with hundreds of other folks) lost our hull insurance after the last hurricane season. Have we ever made a claim? Nope. But our boat is old, paid for, and (on paper) worth less than what the insurance adjusters consider important. We aren’t even going to shop for hull insurance right now (or maybe ever). But we do kind of need liability insurance in the litigious United States. So while we wait for some wind, any wind at all, to fill in, I’ll be on the phone shopping for that. If you know anyone who might cover us for liability only with no survey, let us know. And remember, our boat is 1975 solid-as-rock fiberglass.

So until the spirit moves us out of here we have time for uno mas garbage run and maybe time to buy more tequila and rum. How I fondly remember all the times when it was “Uno mas* margarita?”, to which the answer was almost always , ‘Yes, please!’. Mexico, you have treated us so well.

Get a load of the boat next to us.

S/V Galapagos, standing by on Iridium Go

* “Uno mas” is Spanish for “one more”.

Final Days

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Okay, well we are in the countdown to our final day here in Mexico and it’s unsettling to think of it. We’ve grown a little attached to the pre-Corona Virus Mexico. It’s almost like we’ve lived here for a couple of years now.  Every day we tick another little item off our list of things to do before we set out. Since I’m the chief supply officer on board I’ve been spending a lot of time in the galley. I’ve made sauerkraut, Mexican pickled onions,  a sourdough starter, and preserved cilantro in avocado oil  and lime juice to make it last a little longer. I made candied ginger just in case we either get sea sick or want to eat candy.

Coarsely chopped cilantro packed in avocado oil and lime juice and put in the fridge. I hope it will remain good for a month or better. We’ll see.

We have said goodbye to our crew member, had our laundry done, and have found a new home for the old Avon dinghy that we are not taking with us. Tomorrow Mike will climb the mast to give things a final check. We have paper charts for the part of the Pacific we’ll be sailing, and also a big chart of Hawaii. The list is growing shorter.

Yesterday our chore was taking apart the forward head and giving all the parts a good clean. It’s one of those chores that we generally put off until we can’t stand it anymore because the toilet is not working great. So much calcification. So much soaking of parts in vinegar to get clean. As a rule we love our old fashioned, amost bullet-proof Wilcox-Crittendon marine heads. But when their guts need cleaning, it’s a big job and it’s hard to get everything back together just right with no leaks. This is not the time to talk about replacing them with anything else. They are what we have and that’s just the way it is for now.

You can tell by the clipped speech of that last sentence that this Covid-19 nonsense is getting to me. I’m ready to get going just to stop feeling stagnant. What pushed me over the edge was the newest mandate from the states of Nayarit/Jalisco that insists people over 60 stay home. They don’t even want you to go to the grocery store and will turn you away at the door if they suspect you are over 60. Um. That doesn’t quite work for me because even though we are well provisioned with dry food, I still will need to make a good grocery run to Bucerias to get the fresh stuff for the passage. And I’m not turning my provisioning over to someone else to do for me because that would be just one more things I would have no control over. So in the next couple of days keep your eyes open for a news item entitled “Blonde-Haired Gringa Explodes in Rage When Turned Away From the Local Mega Foods”. I figure I can pass for 58 if I wear my mermaid bandana, a big hat, my sunglasses, and if I walk with extra liveliness in my step. I’ll let you know how it goes.

I’m not saying I’ll squirt people with my hand sanitizer if they ask me my age, but I’m also not saying I won’t. For the record, I’m 58.

So Monday Mike will go to the Port Captain’s office in Nuevo Vallarta to check out of the country. He will go alone because only one person is allowed to ride in a taxi at one time. Weather permitting, we will have 48 hours to get the hell out of here.

But wait! For the last two days we have been watching the formation of a tropical depression several hundred miles south of the Baja. It’s a wee bit early in the season, but frankly, why would the weather be any different than the rest of 2020 when it comes to interference with plans, hopes, dreams, incomes, all the things? I mean why WOULDN’T this be the year for an early storm season?  I’m ready for 2020 to shut up and sit down already. How about you?

Anyway, with all the stress of the times, I realize I have been feeling extremely irritable and it’s been a long time since I could blame PMS for my internal tension. No, it’s straight up stress of the unknown and progressive shut downs. The only fix is to focus on some of the good stuff that happens here all the time. So here are a few things we are truly going to miss about Mexico. I’m not going to bore you with sunsets, and beautiful water, all the fish in the sea, the sunny weather and the friendly people of Mexico. Those are the easy things to identify. Here are some of the less obvious things.

1. 160 Peso (about 6$) roasted chickens with all the fixings. Oh. My. God. So. Good. Better than making it yourself and you get roasted potatoes, jalapeños, fresh tortillas, salsa, and rice with the chicken. We bought one today in La Cruz and after we feast tonight I will make soup tomorrow. So, so good. In fact, we will miss many good foods here and we will definitely miss how economical it is to buy fresh fruits and vegetables. Definitely. Our kids tell us we are going to hate being back home. Hmmm. Well they have a point. But we miss them more than grocery money.

Basically two or three meals, if you count the soup I’m going to make tomorrow.

2. Easy medical care. I needed to refill some medications for the on-board first aid kid. In particular, the antibiotics I like to carry on board needed refilling. Depending on where you are, most antibiotics need a prescription now. We walked up to the 24 hour clinic that serves the cruising community here and had a casual conversation with the doctor on duty. Standing in the waiting room, no appointment needed, I told him our sailing plans and asked what he recommended we carry with us. 5$ later I had a prescription in my hand. I. Love. This.

3. Mexican pharmacies that cater to tourists. There are so many things that you can buy here over the counter without a prescription. I mean, it’s almost like they believe you can think for yourself! After filling the prescription for the antibiotics for the medicine chest, I purchased a few other items that I like to keep on hand but would need an entire doctor visit for at home. Prescription strength skin care cream (for my aging skin, you know), sleeping medication, pain killers… I am a fan of anything that keeps me out of the healthcare system back home. I will miss these places.

One stop medical shop. They always have a ton of special deals. Today I got 6 tubes of Retin-A skin cream for less than 20$.  Back home one tube was going to cost me over 100$ plus a trip to the doctor.  And yes, it’s the same stuff.

4. Street dogs. Mexico’s streets are home to hundreds of dogs. And while I wish every doggie could have a bone and a home, that’s not how it is here. Most of these dogs are very sweet, seem well fed, and invite petting. Sometimes you get lucky and a dog will walk with you for awhile, just keeping you company and hoping for a treat. Sometimes they actually belong to people; it’s often hard to tell. Since we don’t have dogs, we take advantage of every opportunity to find one to love on.

Look at the smile!

5. The local Lavanderia. Before we came to Mexico I had never had anyone do my laundry for me since I was a child at home. They do such an incredible job here. All over Mexico we have had our laundry done and have never failed to be pleased with the results. It’s a happy day when we bring freshly washed, dried, and folded clothes and linens onto the boat. (Bedding that isn’t covered with salt. What a wonder!) I have no words for how much I will miss this feeling of extravagance and luxury. We picked up our 4 bags of laundry today for 15$. That included the soap and bleach for the whites. All our sheets, towels, blankets and clothing are freshly clean.

All of this laundry done with a smile for 15$.

Well, that made me feel better. It’s hard to keep focusing on the positive day after day when so often the news isn’t what we want to hear.  But I challenge you to find small things that make you happy in your here and now space and to keep a good thought as we all go through this strange and unusual time.

We will be posting regular updates from the Sat phone. Stay tuned.

S/V Galapagos, standing by.

Walking down the street, laundry cart in one hand, a gallon of white vinegar in the other.