The announcement of a whale sighting had brought me up from my mental meanderings, as we left on our first leg of the trip south - and what I guess I'm officially calling 'The Sequel' to my UpsideDown Summer. I'm leaving here with as much trepidation as before - excited by contemplative. What am I doing? What AM I doing? How long? Why? So many things go through my mind as we leave Puerto Vallarta Wednesday afternoon. The saturated colors of the land and sea are jewel-like; the golden rays of the sinking sun make the hotels and buildings that rim Bahia Banderas pop. It is beautiful, but I am a tad homesick: homesick for the life I had just a few years ago in Carpinteria with Coco and Lani. Every day started as the last: I chased the girls out of bed and off to school; feeding our crittrs (goats or Dozer, the shiny black behemoth steer) in the early morning chill. Sometimes the girls came home for lunch, and afterwards we'd go for walks on the beach, ride bikes to the farmer's market, go to a myriad of games and practices (softball, basketball, cheerleading, track ...) or just enjoy the silliness and chaos that teenagers bring. It might sound mundane to some but to me it was the sweetest of times, of laughter and love, and that's what I miss the most as I leave the lively city of Puerto Vallarta for points south.
We anchored off Punta Mita in the northwest corner of the bay just as the sunset was blazing. It seems off course but in truth provides solid holding while we barbecue dinner and nap (well SOME of us nap; others loudly discuss politics ... ). At midnight the alarm goes off and we rouse, pull up anchor, and set off on a straight shot south across the bay. I'd spent the morning reading Charlie's Charts and Google Earth'ing obscure anchorages and ports-of-call along the Pacific coasts of Mexico, Nicaragua, Costa Rica and Panama (Guatemala and El Salvador being no-nos according to the insurance company) and now we are formally underway. By the time I go off watch at 4AM, Cabo Corrientes is well astern, the stiff offshore breeze has quelled, the moon has set, and folks of FRC* are no longer dreaming dreams, but living them.
Love and happiness - Betsy / Mom in the wee hours of Nov. 18
* FRC = Free Range Chicken, a custom 59' cruising yacht designed by Robert Perry and owners Bruce and Sharon Anderson; about five years old, it has hot showers, a/c, a trash masher, every electronic gadget you can imagine .. and push button everything on deck.
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