Category Archives: Cruising Life

Plenty of Aloha

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Up in the cockpit this morning in Nawiliwili Harbor, a local woman paddling an outrigger canoe swooped in next to the boat to say hello and chat us up, friendly smile at the ready.

“Hola!” Mike shouted, with the glee we feel of late whenever we get an opportunity to talk to another human being face to face.

“Um, Michael, we are not in Mexico anymore. It’s ‘Aloha’ in Hawaii, not Hola.”, I gently corrected him.

“Hola, Aloha, they’re all the same. Just switch the letters around and add a vowel.” he replied, pushing past me to get to the edge of the cockpit. We chatted with the woman for a few minutes and she asked about our travels and welcomed us to Kaua’i, waving with another Aloha as she paddled of to practice her form on the canoe.

Redtail Trigger fish on San Benedicto Island. He was very curious and swam along with us.

Michael’s kind of right. A broad smiled ‘hello’ in any language is interpreted in just the right way, although maybe lately our smiles have been just a little too bright and big, just a little too much; maybe we are exuding just a small bit of over excitement. You know, we have become those people that make others move further away when approached because they feel our desperation for human contact and are afraid once we grab them they will be trapped by us. We are overly glad to see people and perhaps we give off a certain ‘desperate for social interaction of any kind’ vibe. Yes, I realize we have an entire world that has been socially isolated for awhile, but being isolated at sea is the next level up. There is no one to stand 6 feet away from out there.  The amount of aloneness that this realization engenders is astounding.

Yesterday we were resting in the cockpit, catching up on emails, and checking into the country using the ROAM app when a Coast Guard boat toodled up next to us. I put down the Android tablet and went to stand at the lifelines, smiling and waving. Let’s just say I was glad to see them.

“Hi Guys!! How’s it going? Want to pull your nice boat right up next to us? Huh? Do you? Thanks for stopping by to say hello! We’ve been at sea for a long time. Sure is nice to see friendly faces and understand what you’re saying. We called you guys on the radio to let you know we were coming into the harbor and everyone was so nice. Is there a limit to how long we can anchor here? We are checking in using our APP and waiting to hear from Customs and Border Patrol. It’s sure great to be in Hawaii. We sailed over from Mexico and wow what fun it was and what a cool experience to be out there at sea!…. blah blah blah”.

I hadn’t got three words out before Michael weaseled his head out of the companionway and, in a single excited leap, was beside me and also talking. We talked over each other for awhile, vying for who could say things the fastest. Had we been less mature, elbows would have been put into play and someone would have probably been hurt. It was pitiful. We both could feel this happening and were powerless to stop it. It’s bad when you realize how you appear to others and yet you cannot seem to stop the stream of consciousness coming out of your mouth. In the end we did a kind half humorous, self-deprecating “I’ll bet you guys can tell we are glad to see you. We haven’t talked to another human being in about a month. You are our first people.”  They smiled and laughed and were extremely good natured souls about it. They were just checking to see if we needed anything (and also profiling the hell out of us but that’s ok. We would have invited them on board but we probably scared them.) Once they realized we had been in contact with the Dept. of Natural Resources already, were using the ROAM app, and had our ducks in a row, they motored off into the harbor to deal with other, less pitiful people. We watched them motor away, single tears running down our cheeks. Pathetic.

Blue Cravalle jack. These got very large and they were curious about us, swimming next to us and close enough we could have touched them. An extremely beautiful fish. San Benedicto Island

Scrawled Filefish. He was so friendly and curious and followed us around. That kind of thing used to give me the spook, but I like it now and think it’s cute. San Benedicto Island

So we’re here and we still haven’t been off the boat yet. It’s the weekend so we cannot complete our checking in process until tomorrow. And this is fine because we are dog tired. I slept 12 hours without a pee break last night in my own bunk on a calm sea. My god. What a treat that was. Tomorrow we will drop the dinghy and go to shore for the first time since May 2. I believe we can just manage walking on land still. We have to get fuel by jerrycan here, so that’s the first order of events after we sign a paper certifying we have been on the boat, isolated at sea, for longer than 2 weeks. No problem. Hawaii is smart enough to know that if we have been at sea for over two weeks, we have been quarantined very well so we don’t need to do the extra two weeks on board.

By the way, we used about 80 gallons of our fuel on the trip. That’s less than half what we carry in our big tank. Thanks to our light wind sail and our willingness to sail slowly, we are in good shape fuel wise. We didn’t touch what we have in the extra tank.  I’m pleased as all heck about that. It’s that much less we have to buy and transport to the boat. There is no fuel dock here.

We will be thinking about and processing this experience of making this passage for a very long time and I know I will be writing some more about it. But what strikes me the most about it as I sit here right now is how extraordinarily lucky we have been to have accomplished it at all. I’m not denying that we have worked hard to do this because that’s a given. But many, many people work hard, and even harder than we did, and never get this opportunity. I think of all the folks who had to give up plans to sail to the South Pacific this year, of all the boats stuck in places they didn’t plan to be in, those still stuck at the docks all over the world. My heart is filled with sorrow for them. Every single one of those sailors worked just as hard as we did, some even harder. They saved money for years, they planned. They did the right things. And it was just bad luck, the luck of the draw, that they found themselves having to abandon plans that were sometimes years in the making. It fills us with gratitude that we have stayed ahead of the Covid-19 shut downs and that we currently find ourselves having completed a passage to the exact destination we wanted to come to at the exact time we planned it. And that we are welcomed with open arms and plenty of Aloha? Wow. It’s extraordinarily humbling, I tell you. We do not take this for granted and feel the gratitude deeply.

Mike photographing a toothy friend at San Benedicto Island

So we will be posting photos we took during the passage and at the Revillagigedos Islands.  And we will be writing more of our thoughts and experiences on passage making. But help me out here! It would be helpful if readers would comment to this post with questions they would like answers to about the passage, or how we did things, or whatever you like. I’d like to write about what you want to know. So ask away and we’ll make those a priority.

Meanwhile, here are some sharks to go with that post we did via the Iridium. Oh, and other interesting fish. We had just the one day of excellent snorkeling on San Benedicto Island. I would go back there to again, just to do this day over. That was the very best day ever. Definitely a highlight of my entire life.

Silky shark, just passing under us.

This Silky does a flyby.

 

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”.

That Old Fun/Suck Ratio

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I have to say this: so far this year our timing has been, while accidental, impecable. But today, the pandemic groundswell of closures finally caught up with us and the fun/suck ratio is now tipped firmly over onto the side of ‘this sucks outright’. It’s time to leave Mexico behind. We already miss the Mexico that was. Here’s a long update.

From our boat’s spot at Isla Isabel. It doesn’t get better than that. Next winter when I’m hunkered down on my boat in the Pacific Northwest I’m going to look at this photo and just sigh.

There are times when the brain of the anxiety ridden individual works to advantage and those times are when there is actual danger afoot, whether from large seas or from microscopic viruses that make people behave like the end of the world is nigh (and also kills people).  I like to have a good plan for the worst that can happen, even if that worst is unlikely. It helps me sleep well at night with my cockpit door open to the sea breeze.

While in La Paz, I began spinning stories in my head about how long we might need to survive on the boat without touching land. We plan to cross to Hawaii from La Cruz (Banderas Bay) and those plans were not going to change. But it was many weeks before we would be leaving because you have to go at the right time of year, and the handwriting was already on the wall in terms of pandemic induced shut downs coming in Mexico. La Paz was already recommending people stay home, all the hand sanitizer was sold out at the stores, and there was already confusion over the latest orders in terms of recreational boating.

Our sunset view in Mantenchen Bay

In addition to the beach/business/town closures that were coming, while we personally have not experienced anything but kindness from the local people, I was reading in the news how in our own country people of Chinese descent are being targeted and blamed for bringing the end of the world as we know it upon us. I feared that in Mexico, the ‘gringos’ would be blamed for the virus just as the Chinese are in the U.S.

Another publication had recently published words to that effect and I had thought they were wrong to say so, but as events developed, it was proven that I was the one who was wrong.  Based on recent information, it has proven to be true to some extent and, depending on how long the business closures go on, that could get worse. I hope it doesn’t and so far, incidents are isolated and unusual and not overly serious, but it understandably could get worse and I would rather see it coming than be surprised by it. People love to have an enemy to blame for misfortune and many people here are going to suffer to put food on the table during these shutdowns. Even without the pandemic we are outsiders, living strange lives on expensive yachts and with expensive toys. It’s easy to see why resentment would build. I believe that while it’s important to not focus overly much on this or become paranoid about it, it’s also important to acknowledge it and mitigate our risk. I am all about risk mitigation. Denial is not useful here.

In preparation for possibly having to be on the boat without access to provisions, I began shopping seriously in La Paz while the stores were still fully stocked and before any true emergency closures happened. If there is anything that makes me feel in control of my life, it’s shopping. Particularly grocery shopping. How long would we be off grid? Let’s see, at that point it would be at least 3 weeks until we got to La Cruz. Then once we left La Cruz, another 2 weeks of self isolation before making our escape to the sea, just to be double dog sure we aren’t sick with anything, much less a killer virus. Then maybe 3 weeks for the crossing to Hawaii. But what if we decide to do the clipper route and take a long tack out, then tack back north without landing in Hawaii? That’s maybe a 6 week trip? 7 weeks? Forever? Unlimited sea time? You see how the brain gets spun up a bit. Buy ALL THE SPAGHETTI and SAUCES! More granola and cheeses? YES, PLEASE! WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN ONLY BUY TWO PACKAGES OFF EGGS? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY EGGS WE EAT IN A MONTH?

Michael’s new spirit aniimal, in case you didn’t get this photo before.

But seriously, there is great satisfaction in provisioning a boat, tucking food stuffs away in all the little nooks and crannies. In the moment, I felt like I was going possibly overboard a bit. Did we really need all this stuff? But yes, we would need this much, and possibly more, especially for now when we have a crew member aboard. Our final provisioning will be in La Cruz, if I can get a ride to the grocery store in Bucerias. People are allowed to go for groceries, although they ask that only one person per family go, and some items are limited in quantity. One person? No problema. That person is me. Hey, isn’t that just like at home in the states?

The other thing we did to prepare was to buy a water maker. It wasn’t our first choice of water maker because we wanted one we would install below deck. But it was available, and it was brand new-never-used and we got it for a reasonable price. We got a Rainman that puts out 19 gallons/hour and let me tell you this: it’s the best thing we’ve bought for the boat since that new mainsail and track system. The relief of having this unit on board is palpable and it was with great joy that I listened to it run as it filled up our water tank while we lay at anchor at remote Isla Isabel. We are now truly able to be off grid for as long as food holds out. When we get back to the states and have the boat hauled out, Michael will install the unit below deck and we plan to buy larger membranes for it that will allow a greater output.

Another little bird visitor here in the bay. They sing the cutest little song. He’s some kind of Swallow.

We sat in La Paz until just before the port was closed, narrowly escaping the navy ship patrols that now question people about where they are going and why. It’s not as bad as it sounds. The Navy isn’t out to get people. That’s the last thing they want to do. (I mean, think of the paperwork alone!) You are allowed to move from port to port on your boat. But only for purposes of getting hauled out or stationing yourself in a marina, or your final port. So only in the sense that you might have to travel to reach your final destination. Not for recreation. This enabled us to get to Isla Isabel (or Isabella, or Isabela depending on your source) and actually have a wonderful time during Semana Santa week, a week during which the whole country celebrates by going to the beach, camping out, and having a brilliant time. They were denied this pleasure this year as all the beaches were closed.

We experienced the beach closures first hand at Los Frailles. We had anchored there on the east coast of the southern Baja peninsula to prepare to cross to the mainland and to snorkel. It has coral and I was especially keen to get in the water there. The needle on the fun/suck meter began to seriously move after I had been in the water for 1/2 an hour and Michael paddled up to me and said we had to get out.

A park ranger had spotted us in the water and panga’ed up to him and pretty much mentioned they would call the police if we didn’t stay on our boat. Wow. Way to go from zero to 180 right off the bat. I mean, we knew we couldn’t go ashore. But no swimming either? At first they said we were not even allowed to anchor there, but once Michael asked where we could go to anchor and they realized the problem, they said we could anchor, but not get off the boat. Huh. Well we get it, now that we think about it. I mean, already the locals would resent us for even being on our boats on the water when they are stuck in their houses during their most important holiday. If we are out there obvioulsy having fun and enjoying their ocean, too, well, yeah. We get it. We stayed on the boat.

Finally a decent photo of the very fast Tropicbird. They are hard to capture they move so quickly.

The next day we sailed for Isla Isabel. Honestly, we felt like we had escaped the coming pressures, even if that was a fleeting feeling.  The crossing was all downwind sailing all the time with the usual following seas until a few hours from the island the winds died to nothing and we were left with the sloppy left over swells. The Beta Marine fired up and a few hours later we were anchored sweetly right behind the Mona rocks in literally the only spot with decent holding, the only boat in the anchorage. Beautiful. This allowed us to forget, mostly, about viruses and beach closures and feeling like unwanted intruders as the only people on this fairly remote island were researchers and fishermen who all gave us friendly waves as they passed us by.

We did not go ashore there, not wanting to press our luck since we knew that technically the park was closed. But we snorkeled almost every day and the water was fabulous. It was 78 degrees and with my wetsuit, I could stay in the water literally for hours. We swam with Eagle Rays, big Trevally, Moorish Idols and several kinds of Butterfly and Surgeonfish, and I got up close and personal with a Sea Turtle. There is a lot of current around the Mona rocks and in the anchorage, so we got plenty of exercise snorkeling. On the last night there I shone my light into the water, something I like to do to see cool night creatures, and the beam picked up a Yellow Bellied Sea Snake. I was dead excited about that. So venemous, but so beautiful, I never thought I would see one. But there he was, right by the boat! And that, my friends, is why I do not swim at night.

I felt this turtle before I saw him, strangely. He was having a spa day as wrasses cleaned his crevices. Then he gently rose from his rock and swam in front of me.

The always lovely Eagle rays. So pretty and graceful.

Honestly, we could have stayed there for another week and been perfectly happy. But that sail to Hawaii isn’t going to happen on its own and we were hoping to meet a guy with a boat like ours in San Blas. We had been looking forward to seeing his boat, and him ours, all season. There are not a lot of Olympic 47’s around except in the Med. They were built in Greece, after all. He has taken out the pathetic deck drains these boats have for green water (Why these stupid deck drains? WHY IS THiS A THING Ted Brewer DID?) and put in proper scuppers that drain directly overboard. Plus he has made the companionway much easier to navigate, reducing the number of steps for getting below decks. I’m on the fence about doing that to our boat and really wanted to see this in person. So we sailed to Mantenchen Bay, just a few miles south of San Blas, with plans to meet up with him.

But the virus closures finally caught up with us for good and had other plans for us. That old fun/suck ratio needle just went even more firmly in the ‘suck’ direction. Many of the towns in Mexico have closed their borders and apparently that includes San Blas. He said he wouldn’t even be allowed to get into the town, much less come get us and take us to the boatyard.

The word ‘closed’ here means that the local people have blockaded the roads and will not allow people to enter if they don’t live there. There are also police and military checkpoints in place in some towns, disallowing travel between places except for necessity such as food and medical needs. Here we are not allowed to land on the beach at all. There is a police presence on the beach and they will nicely, but firmly, turn you back to your boat if you try to come ashore. They mean business here. We were hoping that these measures were going to lighten up after Semana Santa week, but apparently not since the police ATV can still be seen patroling the beach. (He goes really fast. I think maybe at least one person is having fun on the beach.) Maybe things will open tomorrow, but probably not. We don’t have the time or the will to hang around and wait to see.

More boobies riding on the bow. We had three of them almost all the way to the island. Those comical faces! Oh hey, that tape needs replacing. Put that on the list.

We are feeling particularly worried for the boats who are planning to stay in the Sea of Cortez this summer. If these closures do not lighten up they are going to have a very hard time. In some places where boats traditionally anchor and get provisions, cruisers have been asked to leave. The Port of Peñasco is now closed as of this writing, and that’s a place where many people go to store their boats. I hope they will make exceptions for people treking all the way north to put their boats away. Probably they will, but these things change on the daily and it’s disconcerting and stressful. That would be a long way to go only to be turned away.  Very experienced cruisers are going to have less trouble adjusting to the constant changes and redirects than the people who are fairly new to the sport. We keep all of these fellow cruisers in our thoughts daily as we listen to the radio nets and receive reports of conditions on the ground in other parts of Pacific Mexico and the Sea of Cortez.

So tomorrow we will leave Mantanchen Bay, where at least we have been able to say hello to other human beings on boats and have seen many little Pacific Golden Cownose Rays in the murky water. S/V Totem is here and we would love to have a personal visit with them before we leave, but everyone is sticking to the isolation orders so…We will hightail it to La Cruz. We know that several boats will be diverting to Hawaii to wait and either continue on to the Pacific Northwest or go to the South Pacific next year, if that area is ready to entertain boats again that soon. Maybe we can find some boats leaving at the time we are going.

A final word about Hawaii because many people have expressed concern that Hawaii won’t want boats or won’t let us land. Yes, we will check, again, once more, with Homeland Security and Coast Guard officials before we leave. Yes, we will have plan B (making that long tack as previously described). Yes, we are prepared for them to make us wait on our boat for two weeks to be extra sure we are not virus carriers. That’s another reason why we are carrying so many provisions. Yes, we are hiring a professional weather router for the trip. We are checking all the boxes we know to check. If you have helpful suggestions other than these, let us know. Otherwise, wish us well and bon voyage. We decided we cannot sit this out in Mexico. And this was already the year we planned to take the boat back home and unless something totally u. One way or another, Pacific Northwest winter, here we come.

Little Pacific Golden Cownose Ray. They are all over the place here in the murky water. No swimming here. Too spooky. This water looks green in the photo. Must be the light. It’s brown.

So, by the way, for those of you who have ‘all you can eat’ internet and TV all the time: we were away from that daily news cycle for 12 days. You know what we missed? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. When we checked back in on the news yesterday, everything was just as it was on April 2. Ordinarily I spend too much time reading the news. (I refuse to watch news videos. I’m not going to waste my bandwidth on those things.) These times of isolation away from cell service remind me just how spun up all that stuff makes me. Please step away from your TV and internet news as much as possible. Please notice how upset it makes you, how it makes your brain on fire, how the price of entertainment can be anxiety. Find some peace and quiet in your day. It’s worth it to take media breaks, including Facebook and all the many fires it starts, regularly, all day long. Believe me, you won’t miss a thing.

We’re all safe here on board and going with the flow. Hope you are, too.

S/V Galapagos, standing by on Channel 16

An African Pompano we caught at dusk. Good, white meat. It was too dark for a great photo of Mike holding it up. This photo is by the aft deck light.