It’s been HOW LONG since I posted to this blog? While I freely admit that I have always had a rather sketchy relationship with time, out here on the wild seas the weeks absolutely fly by without much notice. The last time I checked in on the blog, we had just been planning to cross the Vizcaíno Bay to Isla Cedros. This we did, and it was a great crossing.  We caught a Bonito. We threw him back. I don’t like Bonito and am waiting for a Dorado. The seas have, overall, been way too big to go fishing via sailboat. But maybe soon.

Truly a beautiful place, Isla Cedros.

Isla Cedros is now my favorite place in this world. In case you are wondering why, it’s probably not because of anything you’d think likely. It isn’t the beauty of the scenery, or the isolation from crowded anchorages. It’s not even the access to a town, which we never visited.  No, to be completely frank, it’s because of the rocks. This is an ancient land with many big geological events forming its landscape over eons of time. And it has the rocks to prove it.

Yes, I know I have posted about rocks before and I refuse to apologize or make excuses. My family knows all too well that I will go a very long way and go to a lot of trouble, not to mention carrying an extremely heavy backpack, in order to bring home interesting rocks. My parents, long did they suffer, endured my childhood whereby I was always trying to carry more rocks than the military would allow in a housing allowance. Beginning at the tender age of 2 years when I collected my first specimen (a piece of road tar encrusted with gravel that I believe I still possess) I have loved, admired, and, yes, collected rocks and minerals. I have… a lot of them at this point.  Many. Many rocks. I might even know the names of some of them.

I am happiest right here at the top of a ridge. In fact, I may be filled with glee in this photo taken by my long-suffering husband of many years. I probably have a fossil in view. Rarely do I post a photo of myself but I want to remember this day after all the bruises are gone.

As a child, I wanted nothing more than a rock house with rock furniture. My father asked if I would also eat rocks for breakfast. I said yes. Recently I saw an advertisement for house built into the side of a hill and the home was actually made from a cave. I am enchanted. It’s all I ever dreamed of. Somehow, I was born this way and at this point in my life I fully embrace it (not that this attitude is new) and make zero apologies for bringing tens of pounds of rocks onto my very vessel, weighing it down unmercifully. Sure, ‘tens of pounds’ is a dramatic understatement. I don’t care. What’s an extra 2-300 pounds when it comes to love? I refuse to post a photo of the cockpit after one of my collecting expeditions. People would start asking questions they have zero business asking.

I don’t know if I have mentioned this at all, but there is nothing my family can do to show their love for me better than to give me a gift that is rock related. In the past year alone I have received a rock tumbler,  a new rock hammer (see above photo), and two awesome field guides to rocks and minerals.  The hammer replaces the one my father bought me when I turned 16, the year he took me hunting for rocks in Maine. That one is too old for me to wield now because I’m afraid I will break it and it’s a relic that reminds me that my parents, too, loved me and understood (or at least supported?) my passion. Actually, now that I think about it, nothing says ‘I love you’ more fully than a gift that supports someone’s passion, even when you don’t understand or share it with them. I have also received a folding shovel from Michael, about as thoughtful a gift as I can imagine. I use it all the time; a dead useful item for stabilizing an aging body as we make our way down steep, rocky terrain and down into arroyos where the most interesting specimens can be found. There may be bruises, there may be soreness, but these things will heal so fast when the heart is glad.

The Eye of God rock. A huge sandstone rock that will surely fall at the next slight earth tremor. We climbed above it, hoping to get a closer view,  and ended up on a plateau.

On the plateau, the ground was littered with volcanic rocks. Literally some of them looked like they had been molten lava  just the day before even though they had been laying there for thousands, if not millions, of years. Each rock could tell a story of heat, pressure, and release from the earth. Good thing those same rocks did not litter the side of the hill we climbed. They were quite sharp!

Anyway, due either to good fortune or to the Gods of Rocks and Minerals being on my side, we anchored off the east coast of Isla Cedros not in a marked anchorage, but in an area that turned out to be exactly where several different geological formations overlay each other. What good fortune!  I could not have been more ecstatic. All of the major rock groups were represented: igneous, metamorphic, sedimentary. They were all there. Hills of gypsum encrusted with  great sheets of crystal forms sparkled in the sun. Huge agates rolled under my feet on the beach. (I KNOW, RIGHT? They were everywhere!)  Where the gypsum hills and a different sandstone formation came together we found the fossils of ancient sea life, including huge oyster shells. They were pink! Joy bubbles up just thinking about it! The very idea of standing on an ancient sea bed, literally millions of years old! It boggles the mind.

Such a big concretion. I wonder what’s inside. Probably a totally cool fossil or two. Unfortunately this concretion was about the size of a large kitchen sink.

We spent several days anchored there exploring, then moved to anchor further south when the winds from the north picked up. The more southern location sported the same blue schist that Catalina Island is known for, as well as volcanic rocks like tuff.  There were a very few small sandstone rocks that reminded me a lot of the ones we saw at Goat Bay on Catalina Island; the ones that looked like they were painted by design.  We stayed at that location for a day, climbing up to the top of a ridge to walk an ancient plateau littered with sharp volcanic debris.  When the wind died down we went back up to the first anchorage because there was a wide alluvial plain we needed to explore for some easy hiking and the fossil beds were still calling my name for a more vertically challenging adventure.

See what I mean? This sandstone pebble is so out of place. It was found way up from the beach among other rocks. Where was I, even? Catalina Island?

That Blue Schist! It’s so gorgeous.

Just more stunning landscapes on Isla Cedros in the alluvial plain.

After maybe 8 glorious days on Isla Cedros we decided we could not, after all, live there and did a two night passage down to Magdalena Bay where we currently sit until winds fill in again, which they are currently doing. And, of course, the best thing so far about this place is the rocks. I’ll have to do a separate post with a ton of photos of the beautiful boulders along the trail across to the Pacific side of Isla Magdalena.

The two day passage from Isla Cedros to Magdalena Bay was trying. We had enough wind to sail, thankfully, but the seas were plenty sloppy and big and almost directly behind us. We rolled around tiresomely while making way, tweaking our heading back and forth to maintain some sense of equilibrium. Approaching Cabo San Lazaro on the outside of the bay the seas got even bigger so I just stopped looking at them. I mean, what is one to do? No sense staring at the waves waiting for them to break over the stern. Either they will, or they won’t. They didn’t.  We scooted into Bahia Santa Maria to stop for the night and get some rest after the two night passage with no sleep between us to speak of. Enjoy some photos from the passage:

Our first sighting of Bird on Turtle action. Probably a bit blurry. We were moving fast and I had little time to grab this photo.

The ever graceful Black Footed Albatross.

Classic whale tail.

If you’ve read between the lines you’ll see we are not in a hurry. That’s beause we have had to put off our Pacific Crossing until next season. There are a lot of reasons for this, but over all it just isn’t our time. We were feeling rushed and not ready. We also don’t really think the boat is ready. There are a number of tweaks we need to make to the sailing systems, as well as some healthcare issues that we’d like completed before we go. Let’s just say that small things add up and so we will be in Mexico for now. At first we felt pretty down hearted about it. But on the other hand, we are relieved to have made the conscious decision to wait, even if it means we are risking not being able to go at all.

Honestly, we are having a lot of fun in Mexico and I would be sad to not be able to explore these rock strewn hills, which I missed doing the first time around. We are not sure exactly where we will land after Magdalena Bay. We’ll see what the weather decides for us. Meanwhile, the rocks sing to me of their presence and I hear them and answer the call.

This glorious color! The red is a lichen.

One more, with the mother ship in the distance.

S/V Galapagos, standing by on 16 and 22 and hoping every cruiser keeps their radio on.

“What are you doing in that freezer?”, I asked, trying failing to keep my tone neutral.

“I saw you had ice in your drink the other night and I want some ice!”  Michael is rummaging around in the freezer in a way that is setting my teeth on edge since the freezer is packed completely full and only I know how everything fits together in the one square foot of space we have for frozen foods.  I am not amused, although I am not averse to his getting ice for his well-deserved drink. I begin to think about how I can get the ice to be on the top of everything so he won’t have to dig next time. My teeth can’t take the added stress right now.

Cool fountain down on the malecon.

“Well, Mister Man, be sure to put everything back exactly the way you found it because it took me an hour to tetris all that stuff just so into that little munchkin freezer and it was not easy. I had to take out frozen chicken thighs, which I am not even sure how I’m going to use at this point, to make room for all the cheese I’m storing in there. I’m prepared to be off grid here! I’m prepared to have to feed us for months without a decent grocery store! And in spite of how overly prepared I am,  now we have been here at this  (creative swear words here) dock so flipping long that I am beginning to have anxiety about leaving. I tell you I am prepared! All cabinets, the fridge, the freezer..all possible stowage is packed tighter than a church pew on Christmas.  So just get everything back in the freezer the way I had it. K?”

Michael, accustomed as he is to my unfounded anxieties, retorted as his plastic ice cubes clinked noisily into his glass: “Well, we’ll just put your anxieties about leaving along with all the other anxieties we have about life in general right about now. How about that?”.

I guess he’s not wrong. We’re both getting a little antsy here at the dock in Ensenada. It’s been too long since we have anchored this boat. Too long since we have sailed this boat or even motored this boat. We have been here at this dock TOO LONG. When I start knowing my way around town, then we have been in a place too long. The security guard knows me now. Oh, hell no!

This post is going to degrade rapidly into a bit of a ramble, but I won’t even apologize for that.

Honestly, I have just about reached a tipping point with this whole ‘we live here now’ dock living we have been doing since our belated return from the homeland in Washington State; somewhere on or around January 17. This is a weird thing, this tipping point. When we have to be on a dock, at first I feel  like that’s going to be a nice break from the stress of always living at anchor at the whim of mother nature. We can walk into town. Going for groceries is easy. We can buy boat parts we didn’t know we needed. What’s not to like?

But soon I begin to feel like I’m getting ‘soft’; like if I don’t get back out there away from the easy life of land I’m not going to want this life of ease to end. I’m going to start leaning into being lazy. I’m going to be at risk of embracing the sloth. Days and weeks are going to pass with absolutely nothing to show for it.  I’ll end up doing nothing with my life besides watching Instagram videos and sitting on my ass in the evening eating things that are surely shortening my very existence, dreaming of the day I can get back to refinishing furniture in the basement and planting seeds in the land dirt. Maybe I am the only person who feels this way about dock living. Most people seem to love it and it’s fine with them that they don’t have to worry about anchors holding or being on a lee shore.

When I begin to be this accustomed to easy street, I begin to get anxious once again about the day when we have to leave the dock.  I’ll start planning how to get out of the slip and begin looking at tide and current charts well in advance so I have a concrete plan on how we will do this without messing up other boats. Even though we have literally NEVER MESSED UP ANOTHER BOAT when leaving our slip. Literally never. Does this mean I am finished with the cruising life? It does not. What it means is that I don’t have enough to keep my brain occupied in a positive direction so it has begun to entertain itself.   Don’t try to understand me. I’m complicated.

I’d like to say we enjoy seeing these big boys right next to our boat. Alas. They blow black soot all over everything.

Anyway.  We are still in Ensenada at Cruiseport Marina. Why? Because this trip, destination Banderas Bay to an eventual Pacific Crossing, has taken way too long overall and it continues to do so. Let’s recap this trip so far:

Return to land life in Olympia, Washington during covid times. Get jobs. Sell house. Buy different house. Remodel house. Move into house for the briefest of moments in time. Continue working on boat during all of this, including pulling and replacing all chainplates, re-rigging, modifying the settees in the salon, replacing mattresses in aft cabin, among many other expensive and time consuming projects. Prepare to leave the dock in April 2023. Everything is seemingly falling into place until then. Full. Stop.

Our delays begin when, during the final countdown to leaving Olympia aboard our beloved Galapagos,  we are faced with an unplanned remodel of the apartment at our house. We had always planned to remodel that hovel of an apartment SOMEDAY,  after the current renter left. But we didn’t know he was leaving until two weeks before he did. This was a curveball that, while welcome in many ways, would have been better thrown like 3 months before it landed on us. Wait.

That’s only partly true. The delays began when we could not, in a timely way,  get on the schedule of the guy who did our fiberglass work. Those two delays together, the refit and the apartment remodel, started us off in what was a delay that would have a trickle down effect.

It was August 1 before we were able to leave.  Our plans for Alaska were cancelled once again; our plans to circumnavigate Vancouver Island gone, once again.  Between one thing and another it took us way too long to get the heck out of the Pacific Northwest. By June we had planned to be sailing down the coast. Once we made the big left turn outside of Neah Bay it was already September. And it took even longer than we could have foretold to make it down to southern California. Leaving in this late, we chose to stick close to the coast rather than sail offshore and risk being in one gale after another.  While it seemed like our weather window was a good one, it turned out that we either had zero wind with sloppy and uncomfortable seas or gales. So we spent a lot of time gnashing our teeth tied to a dock or at anchor somewhere waiting for weather systems to pass. So one thing leads to another.  This, we know.

Still, no sense getting down into Mexico before November  (due to hurricane season and all) so we spent time in the Channel Islands, which is always a good idea. Honestly, this was the best, most enjoyable part of the entire trip so far.  By the time we got to San Diego, it was clear our batteries were dying so we had to replace those. Another delay. If I didn’t know that this is sometimes how it goes, I’d think someone ‘up there’ had something against us.

We were honestly sad to leave the Channel Islands. We could easily have spent a much longer time there.

And let’s not forget that when we finally did leave San Diego, we ran afoul of some kelp in the channel that actually wrapped itself around our prop, leading us to call it quits and go back to the anchorage for another night. That was not a long delay, but it did just feel like more of the same. By the time we got to Ensenada, it was time to go home for the holidays. I guess we could have skipped that and gone directly to La Cruz, but it’s a good thing we didn’t.  Family issues back home meant we had to reschedule our flight back and didn’t get back to Mexico until the middle of January.

Back in Mexico, we didn’t want to leave Ensenada until I had been able to get an overdue physical exam (so much easier to schedule that here, and cheaper, too), had my teeth cleaned, and had a couple of retainers made for my teeth since apparently I tend to gnash them on the regular. This had always been part of the plan. Those are checked off the list, finally. (An hour consultation with an Internal Medicine doctor for $58. Complete lab profile, including test for parasites and checking electrolyte levels for 60$. That’s 6 pages of lab results. Teeth cleaned for $50. Two retainers for 150$. Thanks, Mexico.)

Walking down the tourist district. This little girl is learning how to charm the potential buyers!

While I was busy with medical and dental, and catching up with clients, Michael needed to fix the outboard engine that seemed to hate going at low speeds. It expressed its disdain by misfiring and sometimes outright stalling. Mike finally got traction on that today thanks to an older gentleman who works at a local shop specializing in outboard engines. Michael showed him a video he took of what the engine was doing and the guy, correctly, diagnosed the issue and sold him the part for it. It was some kind of rubber covering for the spark plug. It needed replacing. Ten dollars later the engine is finally ready. This is great because it means we can putt putt along close to shore, staring down into the water like we do.  And Michael will be able to enjoy the scenery without staring at the outboard, a puzzled frown on his face.

I’m still working for a living, so it was hard to leave Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday of this week, and we could leave tomorrow but another big rainstorm is coming through with pretty big swells coming directly from the west, so they’d be right on our beam as we head south. That sounds like fun, doesn’t it? No. It does not.

Maybe…Sunday? There isn’t supposed to be wind that day but I don’t care if we have to motor for 100 miles. It’s time to go before I become ossified into this slip and attached to a life whose biggest challenge is whether my Google Translate app is up to date. So for now, barring any other delays, we are leaving on Sunday.  I’ll make some sort of sacrifice to the Gods of Leaving the Dock Safely. We have given notice to the marina. They will have our paperwork ready for us. We have listed our next port as La Cruz in Banderas Bay. That’s where so many people stage to prepare for crossing to French Polynesia. We wish. We hope and we plan. We envision warm water and beautiful fish.

Where are we going next? Who knows? At this point we will let the sea decide where we land to stay at anchor and catch our breath and remember how to sleep on a boat that is moving,  Overall it will be south-ish. We still plan to cross to French Polynesia this year but will we make it? We still need to apply for a long stay visa and to find liability insurance.  It just feels, I don’t know how to say it, but like the wave of energy we’d need to ride to make that happen for sure has not appeared for us yet this year; like we have just started “raising the sails” when the wind suddenly dies. That kind of thing.  Maybe the energy of La Cruz will change all of that. We are trying to practice the “non attachment to outcomes” that is necessary when cruising. We are not always successful with that. But we try.

Getting this blog post up is the first step toward re-engaging with this cruising life. Let it be written. Let it be done.

S/V Galapagos, out. Not even standing by. No one keeps their radio on in this marina.