A different Florida

Today I saw a side of Florida I hadn't experienced before, when Oma, Opa and I went for a little trek through the cypress forests at Hammock State Park.

Trails and boardwalks snake through this quiet, unspoiled nature reserve; winding over still swamps and waterways, past palms - with festive fan leaves; beneath ancient oaks hung with moss like old men sporting wisps of beard. It was cool, and the vegetation smelled like Christmas. Squirrels scrambled around fat trees, dislodging nuts that tumbled noisily to the ground. We heard woodpeckers drumming and owls hooting; saw bear scat and armadillo dens - but no gators. Not a bad thing: had I actually spied a hideous five-foot reptile waddling beneath my feet in this peaceful environment, I probably would have leapt out of my skin. Still we looked, rambling along paths in the hushed green forest until the sun shot horizontal through the leggy trees and we figured we'd better hurry out before it got dark.

The weather was brisk all day - earlier Opa and I went for a bike ride, and I think it is the first time we have ever gone bike riding together. We've had a fun easy-going visit, which is coming too quickly to an end: tomorrow I fly out of Orlando, for home - and I will see you soon!

XOXO Mom / Betsy

** AUNT DORIS CALLS THIS PHOTO MY 'UPSIDE DOWN JUNGLE'. LOVE IT!

Changes

The last week has been a smudge of people, places, colors, cultures,
language, temperatures, topography, geography, menus ... all
flip-flopping wildly, but delightfully so. Admittedly I am a touch
ADHD so the battery of shifting stimuli suits me fine: at least I am
not bored. Boredom is the arch-enemy (usually keeping company with
other villains like procrastination and defiance) tamed only by a
flurry of needless cooking, dishwashing, housekeeping or other, even
worse, misadventures like unintentional-snake-hunting-in-the-tropics
(or writing bad blogs and sordid country love songs).

We left the lush jungle islands of Las Perlas and their man-eating
serpents and crocodiles (I'm making this up) and mess of noisy birds
and leaping fish (I'm not) for an overnight passage to Panama City.
The bright moon faded with the lunar eclipse and we found ourselves
(surprise!) once again blasting along on a blackened night amidst a
multitude of twinkling planets and stars. And airplanes. And fishing
boats. AND CONTAINER SHIPS. Hundreds were anchored, awaiting transit
through the canal: peppering the approach to Panama City - where
skyscrapers emerged like ethereal towers of tinsel rising towards the
heavens through the tropical mist of the early morn.

Ugh. The city sprawled as far as the eye could see. The ships spewed
corkscrews of black smoke. The mud flats stretched dull and reeking
along the shore. Unfriendly shoreboat drivers slammed over in grimy,
leaky pangas to deliver us to a rickety wharf we scaled with our
belongings, trekking across the long footbridge and up, up the
crumbling staircase to Balboat Yacht Club - where both food and
service were utterly abysmal. We did a few forays for produce and
pricey rum, and were unequivocally on the verge of panning Panama City
...

The next day we happened on a taxi driver - Adriano - with a spacious
air conditioned van and equally huge pride in Panama and its history.
After running errands (stop at the ATM, drop off wash at the
lavanderia) he toured us through Panama la Vieja - the stately ruins
of the ancient city that was plundered by the pirate Henry Morgan; and
Casco Viejo - the old city subsequently built after the sacking, in
the late 1600s. Casco Viejo has a French Quarter-like charm: narrow
streets hemmed by colorful buildings with wrought iron balconies and
graceful wooden doors. The gentrification is evident, but the charm
remains, and I felt a tug of yearning to live here (maybe a season or
so, and work on some writing ... we'll see .. ). Later he brought us
to a fabulous parilla "Jymmy's" and joined us, saying grace before we
dug into our steaks, then cruised us by General Noriega's vacant,
overgrown compound. It was an amazing day in the company of a sage and
captivating gentleman, and I genuinely warmed to Panama City.

PHOTOS HERE

That night I humped my bags ashore (with Chewey's help) and found
Rogelio (the taxi driver I'd hired in February) waiting for me at the
gate of BYC to bring me to Tocumen for my 3AM (!) flight to Ft.
Lauderdale. It was a l-o-n-g night; I was asleep before the plane took
off but even so, the 2 ½ hour flight wasn't long enough (yawn)! After
customs and immigration I rented a car and drove to Jupiter where I
rendez-voused with my parents and sister Karla and her family.
Suddenly I was magnificently immersed in another world: traffic,
telephones, relatives, pets, Christmas! - and all the trappings: the
last-minute shopping for groceries and gift wrap, preparing the
holiday feast, and lots and lots of catching up.

Now I'm at Mom and Dad's up north in Lake Place - Florida, that is,
but it could be Lake Placid, NY based on the 40 degree temps! We're
perusing photo albums, watching tv, drinking wine, and a game of gin
rummy is no doubt imminent before the visit is over. Meanwhile I'm
bundled up in all the clothes I have ... What a 180-degree turnaround
this has been - from day after day wearing the same tank top and
swimsuit, isolated from the rest of the world, plugging along on our
delivery - to this!

Traveling, the most seemingly subtle deviations I find are the most
telling. Sleeping quarters are not always a given: in the last year
and a half I've slept on floors, couches, trampolines, pipe berths,
settees, a horsehair mat, cushions on deck, beneath mosquito nets and
thatched roofs, in frigid cold and sweltering heat, on a lumpy pullout
sofa bed, and - ahhhh - in real luxury: a wide bed with downy blankets
and fluffy pillows. If you are tired enough you will find rest in any
of these settings, but each time I put my head down it registers (and
I am always thankful to have someplace safe and comfortable to lay!).

Another variation is in the brand of beer you order. Just when you
think you've gotten used to the unique refreshment of (Singha,
Imperial, Balboa, _______ ) you land in a new spot and the local beer
is (fill in the blank _________). How you say hello, please, and thank
you varies - because even in Spanish-speaking countries it differs
significantly: bueno versus buen dia versus buenos dias; de nada as
opposed to mucho gusto, and so on. What footwear you don (flip flops
on the dock? KEENS in the garbage strewn surf? closed-toe shoes to
protect from snakes and giant ants on the trail? or none at all?) ...
and whether, as in Mexico, you don't really sightsee as much as STARE
at the ground where you're putting our feet; because man-eating
potholes, sidewalks that disappear into crevices, missing manhole
covers, ditches, and other hazards - are rife!

But for now, I am safe and sound at Mom and Dad's (what could be MORE
safe and sound) coddled, warm (despite temps in the 40s) well fed
and content ... and contemplating EXCITEDLY what is in store for my
homecoming, and 2011!

... and an extremely large snake ...

Isla Caňas didn't make the cut. The anchorage at the foot of the island was wide-open to the churlish south swell, while the coves on the opposing side were exposed to the north wind - expected to puff up to 20k: either way, making for an uncomfortable afternoon and evening. So we continued on, past the half-sunk Japanese sub perched on Isla San Telmo, around Bajo Bartolomé, Isla Elefante, and nine-billion other rocks and isles, to Isla Espiritu Santo (which I took the liberty of translating to "Island of the Spirit of Saint Nick"). We tucked in to the west between the slender rock and forested isle and the mainland, joining two other boats (FORTY-TWO: a German couple we stopped and chatted with; and LANIKAI, from Oregon - who I'm pretty sure I recognized from this year's Baja Haha).
The extreme tides in this region (up to 20') make for an ever-changing landscape: beautiful, dynamic scenery that transforms with the rising and falling sea; as rocks and idylic sandy beaches appear or disappear, trees submerge and reefs emerge - all with the tide.
It also makes for so-so snorkeling as the water is turbulent and the currents swift. Regardless, we took the dingy north to explore, with the idea of snorkeling back to the boat 'going with the flow'; stopping first at a sliver of beach strewn with shells and garbage. It is very sad to report but the lovely "Pearls" of Panama (Las Perlas) are plastered with trash. Amidst this, we also spotted an iguana bobbing his head in agitation, until he finally sprinted away.
At the shallow edge of the beach the water was clear, but the minute we struck out down the main canal toward FRC, it became murky ... green .. specked with millions of teeny life forms ... bits of flotsam ... and the rare, occasional fish (that we could see). Visibility was dismal - perhaps a good thing, I'd find out later - although I kept my eyes peeled for crocs and water snakes; and never strayed more than an arm's length from my snorkel buddy (the guys must have to draw straws to see who has to babysit me ...). The underwater scenery was unremarkable, but the chance to go for a long swim in refreshingly cool water, in such an exotic setting, was delightful.
Later in the day I realized this was it: my last day of 'cruising' as FRC heads at midnight to Panama City (and I, home) - and I wanted one more bite of adventure. I conned Chewey into taking a dinghy ride with me into the mangrove inlet on the mainland side. Our jungle cruise yesterday hadn't been too productive, and I was longing to savor one more taste of the wild before heading back to the real world.
We zipped into the bay, stopping here and there to look and listen. Eventually we heard a clutter of bird calls on the north side and putted over. We cut the engine; observed a great deal of splashing beneath some trees; puttered a little closer; cut the engine again; and drifted with the current - enjoying an untamed orchestra of chirps, songs and cries - beneath the canopy of low-lying trees at the edge of the jungle.
Prickly branches hung down and with the outboard off, Chewey gingerly tugged on them to direct our course; being careful to avoid the large thorns, as we noted the plethora of succulents (bromeliads?) tucked in the crooks of the branches ... along with ... an extremely large snake!!!
As my mind began to register the unmistakable pattern of snake skin, the fat coil of sinew drooping heavily off the brittle branch, i backed up... back... and back .. 'til I was sitting on the fuel can: the only words able to form being "F*ck, f**-***ck, F*CK!!!" Later, Chewey told me, he was thinking at that exact moment, "Gee that looks a lot like a snake ..." then frantically began trying to start the outboard - in reverse - with me practically sitting on his lap by this point.
Finally the dinghy was retreating, with me crouched low on the floor in the back of the dink; both of us convulsing hysterically with nervous laughter. "Let's go back and look at it from the other side!" I suggested - and from a safe distance we gaped at this at spiral of snake perched so dubiously on the low bough that had just minutes before been suspended over our ducked heads.
"As big around as a Coors Light can," Chewey described the snake, when we returned to FRC (after another 20 minutes of cruising in the dimming light, dodging white pelicans hunting the small shiny tunas that jack-in-the-boxed out of the rushing currents of the narrow bay) while our mates listened rapt and amused. So this was it: my final memory of the journey - adventure, laughter and friendship aboard FRC.
We leave in two hours for my final (overnight) passage, to the canal zone .. I will see you soon! XOXO Mom / Betsy 12-20-10
PS - we left just before midnight - I was on til 2AM ... halfway into my watch i noticed more stars in the sky : didn't we have a full moon just last night? I looked up & saw the lunar eclipse, SO obvious here at sea. Magnificent! Just as it was at its darkest a falling star streaked past. Amazing! Life is good ;-)
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com/

One-hundred eyes ...

Hundreds of eyes were watching us - or so we felt: their gazes burning through the bushes and peering from beneath the mangroves and branches overhead, as we meandered up the slinky Rio Cacique on Isla del Rey (about 60nm offshore / south of Panama City). We didn't see a thing - other than the tail-feathers of fleeing birds and the tell-tale splashes of unseen inhabitants of the muddy river. After motoring upstream as far as possible, we killed the outboard and drifted (with the occasional paddle stroke) back towards the bahia: listening to bird calls, splashes, and the frequent SNAP and POP of twigs ashore - but saw little. It was eerie! We returned through a small passage in the rolling surf (with waves breaking to starboard, and crashing on rocks to port) and back to FRC - which was lurching at anchor. The tides vary up to 20 feet here and with tonight's full moon, they were running fast!

It has been exotic and unusual sailing in this environment: California is dry, and Baja is outright barren. But here, especially at night, the rich smells of the jungle travel to sea: thick and dank, verdant and earthy - feeding the imagination and sparking a longing to explore. I'd love to stay and investigate every inch of every island, but our mad dash to the canal continues ... Tomorrow we'll move from our anchorage at Bahia Cacique to Isla Caňas - a petite island with sandy beaches, and reefs for snorkeling, on what will be my last (hopefully sunny!) day cruising. Then it's off to Balboa (in the Canal zone) late Monday night, to clear into Panama Tuesday, wrap up some chores and sightseeing Wednesday, and fly out in the wee early hours of Thursday. I've enjoyed this 2,900nm (ish?) voyage, but now am eager for a heavy dose of Christmas, family & friends!

Well the chicken wings are on the barbie so .. signing off for now; more from P.C. XOXO Mom / Betsy

----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com/

Highs and Lows

07 09N 80 27W
We are probably at our lowest point of the trip ...Latitude-wise ;-) - having dipped below the Peninsula de Azuero on our way to Islas Las Perlas, our next stopover. This has actually been a week of 'highs': with the arrival of two of Bruce's longtime friends the fun-meter turned UP. The boys have the clout to bust his a** and have prompted more field trips -- and stops [mostly fueled by their quest for rum] ...

Patrick had never been ziplining and Wednesday was Moffett's b-day; so five of us set out from Quepos on a rutted mud road into the canopy. We did a total of 10 ziplines (the longest nearly 500' and FAST), two rappels, crossed a wobbly suspension bridge, and - the most scary of all - swung like Tarzan (or Jane) from one platform to the next -- all VERY high up & confirming my dreadful fear of heights, especially as the tiny platforms shuddered with each incoming participant, and got slippery in the rain! But it WAS (I admit) a load of fun and worth the little bit of 'eeeee!' I felt each time I was clipped and sent flying ...

After that we overnighted to Golfito to check out of Costa Rica, and provision a bit more (Sharon and I have done most of our sightseeing in the little mercados and tiendas of Central America ... ) At Banana Bay - the cruiser hangout in Golfito - we ran into some folks we know and friends of friends; trading email addresses on scraps of dinner napkins and chatting into the evening ... until we departed that night: this time crossing into Panama and making landfall at the Islas Secocs - absolutely GORGEOUS islands: lush green mounds, turquoise water, etc.

The anchor was hardly set before we were in the water - swimming, exploring in the dinghy, or as Patrick and I did - snorkeling the entire crescent bay where I had one of my MOST ENCHANTING moments of the trip: a tiny yellow and blue striped fish - about the size of a walnut - joined us and swam with us the entire way! At times he was directly under my mask - just beneath my nose - his tiny fins beating as hard as he could to keep up (at points we even slowed down to accommodate him!). What a delight!! !

Alas we left there yesterday after dinner for a two-night passage to Las Perlas: an archipelago of isles and rocks directly south of the canal zone, which puts us in position to arrive in Balboa Tuesday (12/21) (after a little fun at Las Perlas - also supposedly great snorkeling grounds).

Speaking of fish ... I've been getting up early for my 7AM watch to get the line out and grind up some local coffee I picked up ... and the last two mornings have caught yellowfin tunas even before my first cup of joe! Today I even put out my old 'lucky lure' ... it has lost its shimmer and most of its feathers since I first picked it up in 1993 (!) however he still has his old magic: finally we had to start throwing fish back - and retire him probably for the duration of the trip.

After checking into Panama (on the 21st? 22nd?) I expect to get a flight early (o-dark-thirty) Thursday and start making my way home - by way of Oma & Opas, then back to Cali before the New Year. SO anxious to see my loved ones and share some Christmas cheer SOON!! Signing off Sat'y Dec 18 - XOXOX Betsy / Mom

----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com

Blowin' a hooley

Dawn departure, flanked by the sunrise to the east and rainbows to the west - we left the boisterous Bahia Ballena and rode that stallion out into the Nicoya Peninsula: wind 25-30 (occasionally 35) with huge rolling waves that smoked water! No fish (no birds) but a romping good time 'til mid bay when the wind machine shut off.

Made it to Quepos in time for a late lunch; explored a bit locally ... including AVION with a circa 1954 shot-out C-123 aircraft in the center of the restaurant (I'd been here two years ago, on vacation with June! :-D). We climbed around, had a drink in the bar and watched another spectacular sunset, then got back in time to join the Marina Pez Vela Christmas party: a nice bbq spread, drinks, disco and dancing on the wide docks of the new marina.

Manana: zip lining and/or Manuel Antonio Park - depending on weather ... today we had our first rain storm of the trip!

"One of the prettiest places I've been ... "

Monday Dec 13 –

The addition of two new crew has livened things up a bit :-) It's late Sunday morning when we pick up Patrick and Moffett at the ferry dock at Los Suenos Marina (Bahia Herradura – just north of Jaco) – for the pricey sum of $40 for a ‘day use fee’). Their friend Greg had dropped them off ... but soon we are hailing him back, to give us a lift to the grocery store (although the boys had lugged at least a gallon each of rum, vodka, and wine aboard). Coincidentally Greg is a fellow Seal Beach-er and has a bike shop in town, which I walk Gracie The Dog past every morning; plus his small surfer hotel* here, at the north end of famed Playa Hermosa, which boasts ‘Best Surf in Costa Rica’ – a fact you can confirm on the Surfline webcam that Greg has perched at the edge of his casa. Besides that, he’s a really nice guy eager for a gringo fix, so after he takes us to the supermarket, and comes by FRC for a 5¢ tour, he invites us to the Inn for a little terra firma.

The sign and entrance are innocuous enough I might have missed this little slice of paradise: a charming strip of rooms edged with lush gardens, a tiny but refreshing two-level pool with a waterfall, a breezy palapa on an exotic black sand beach strewn with driftwood ... so we hang around ‘til sunset, enjoying the scenery (and wifi) and Greg’s tales of his breathtaking adventures - including a non-stop bike ride from Calif. to NY; his flight over the English Channel is the ‘Gossamer Albatross’, and so on ... ( * http://www.sandpipercostarica.com/ )

Early the next morning (despite the boys’ brutal partying) we set off for our longed-for destination; back across Golfo Nicoya to Isla Tortugas... On the way I indulge myself: listening to Christmas carols in the galley while I make mango salsa to go with the fish I’m trying to catch – but all I get is another bonita :-P (at least not a boobie again!) These islands are exactly what we’d dreamed of all those weeks plowing away on our ‘delivery’ - and end up being one of the prettiest places I’ve ever been. These twin isles are set off from the mainland – steep rocky foundations plush with the greenest foliage, footed with snippets of pale sandy beach here and there, lapped with teal and azure water speckled white with the gentle breeze. As soon as the anchor is set we start jumping in; the snorkeling so-so in water sprinkled with teeny life forms, but the fish spectacular through the turquoise gauze none-the-less. Afterwards we explore in the dinghy and stop at the small public beach where we’re met with chickens, horses, vultures ... and a young (not-so) wild boar who lets me scratch his bristly chin – and as I do he lifts his tapered head up and jigs his leg like a dog.

Too soon we leave for Bahia Ballena – allegedly because the wind is coming up but truly I think it’s because there is a rum panic – we haven’t hoarded enough rum apparently; and they think the ‘town’ here will have a liquor store. Uhm ... not! This is a meager fish camp, set around a steep concrete pier that serves as a loading platform and fish market, with arms that stretch out and down to either side for pangas to tie up. We approach the pier and a spiderweb of long lines strung from mooring cans and skiffs to the pilings, pulling ourselves along the ropes to the south landing – a crumbly concrete platform with ruins of stairs that zigzag up to the open deck, where somber fisherman tally and clean their paltry catch. Following the length of the pier – which is lined with Coleman coolers – we come to the Ballena Bay Yacht Club. Yup – a ‘yacht club’ here ... Although it’s no more than a bar and restaurant, it is clean and spacious with a view of the dock and the bay beyond. We enjoy a round of drinks and once again, sit and watch the day come to an end, until it’s time to leave. Alas the landing is now awash, and our dismount from the crumbling concrete dock which is now awash, onto our dinghy, is a bit sketchy. By the time we return to the boat my butt’s soaked and filthy from our expedition; the wind has come up and the boat’s rocking and yawing wildly in the open bay – as it continues to do now (just past midnight). But by some miracle there’s wifi in this most unlikely of places ... so I’m pirating while I can, hoping to post or send this note tonight (Monday) - and I have already put up new pix!

Unless we’re chased out by a storm tonight, we’ll leave early tomorrow for Quepos and a visit to the Manuel Antonio wildlife reserve the following day. Updates to follow ...

Sending love today & always, XOXO Mom / Betsy

Fun with critters

12/11- Bahia Culebra & beyond

The crushed coral sand along water’s edge is cooler than the powdery stuff at the foot of the jungle, and surely more welcome than the unbearable coal-black volcanic sand of Playas Coco. But it’s crunchy underfoot, like Rice Krispies; it sizzles when the surf laps at it; and suitably so ‘snap-crackle-pops’ when you lay your head down to nap. (I’m tired – having slept on deck beneath the stars; restlessly, with the all-night chirping of critters and buzzing of bugs, until 2AM when finally, too cold, I retreated to my bunk below.) There are so many sensations to take in ... the merry juxtaposition of rasping monkey howls with the laughter of day campers tossing water balloons ... riotous bird calls ... jet skis zooming by ... Today (Saturday) is clear and dry; the sun hot – but the fresh midday breeze promises to fill in ... bringing with it a waft of sugar cane smoke from across the bay. I want to take it all in before I leave this place, so I can be ready for the next.

But when will these uninvited memories fade? I have a fantastic, rich life: full of happiness, adventure, amazing experiences and recollections: so why do these loiter and float to the surface? I try to acknowledge them, give them their weight, and let time blow them away like autumn leaves: pretty ... but useless. I finished a book yesterday (“Indigo Rose” by Susan Beth Miller); the protagonist has suffered a loss I cannot fathom - it is a stirring story of her despair, and resurrected hope - and at one point she says: “I am pushing time past me like I’m rowing in a boat, hauling back the water.” Row baby, row. Another book I just read (we read a lot on board) related that an emotional wound will hurt in direct proportion to the amount you let that person under your skin. The pain is as deep as you let them in. Which explains the wonderful dichotomy of how I’m still carrying on like an utter fool; and he shut me off as quick and complete as a light switch.

The gentle lapping of the surf has erupted into splashes, and I rise up to see another fish boil. Black spheres of fish - tiny fingerlings, in such dense concentration they appear as one dark eddy - whirl up and down the beach, fleeing from what-I-do-not-know ... I wade out, step in the middle, giggling (the Ticos think I’ve gone mad) ... like shadowy rings of Saturn these fish swirl and twirl around me until - at the command of some unseen choreographer – they split off, and the whole blob snakes away.

I take so many pictures I haven’t any left when Chewey comes back with the dinghy to get me. First though we return to look for monkeys (they were M.I.A. this morning) and come upon a veritable San Diego Zoo of wildlife: koatamundi foraging amongst the Saturday picnickers; white squirrels; crested blue jays (they have a local name with a lot of rrrrrrrrs I cannot pronounce); and at last – several small white-faced monkeys. Cute, more playful than howlers, they also ‘cheep’ in a dialect you’d more expect of a monkey (than the hoarse bark of the howlers). That expedition over, I toss my gear in the dink and swim back, while Chewey zooms around me allegedly to scare away any big fish or snakes: but I think he is just being a guy and wanting-to-go-fast. The water is fantastic – no stings – but I can’t linger too long; I need to catch up on some sleep before our all-night passage to Jaco. XOXO

SUNDAY’S DAWN IS YUMMY, splashed with Easter candy colors. Before daybreak the line’s out, and we have our first victim: a torpedo-shaped bonita, lively but small (and a first hit for Linda Las Vegas, my tart-y silver and purple lure). Back he goes and I switch to a bigger lure (= bigger fish?) but another bonita strikes, so I release him, bring in the line, and go make a quiche.

When I come back on deck I’m hopeful for a bonita-free-zone ... but we are followed by two boobie birds – who attract several more of their kind. Like the shampoo commercial ‘You tell two friends, and they tell two friends, and so on, and so on ...’ boobies seem to send out a telegraph that has their cousins winging in from far and wide; wheeling and swooping around FRC like we’re awarding the mackerel lottery or something. Soon every boobie south of 10° LAT surrounds the boat and starts dive-bombing Big Red, a crimson and white cigar-shaped chunk of wood with a sexy waggle apparently irresistible to birds (alas not fish) ... Luckily they are not only stupid, but have poor aim (it is a wonder their species survives!); still I repeatedly pull in the meat line, and dole it back out when the boobies disappear.

Eventually though I catch a bird: throttle back, drag him in – his wings splayed like he’s JC Superstar. He’s got it hooked square through the bottom of his beak, and Bruce grabs the lure with the pliers while ‘Fred’ (having bumbled so fantastically we give him a male moniker) looks stunned (although I think he perpetually looks stunned) and drops with a thunk to the swim step. So now we have a disheveled boobie bird splayed on the back of the boat – gakkin’ up saltwater, dragging his right wing in the sea, shaking his head with disbelief as if he’s saying “WTF!?” Meanwhile his friends continue to circle ‘round, marveling at how Fred got the free ride; and we cannot fish.

In due course Fred composes himself: ‘tucks his wings in and straightens out his fanny feathers; waddles away from the exhaust (I’m loathe to think he’s going to die of CO2 poisoning after we go and rescue him from the lure ... I mean: what next? Mouth-to-beak resuscitation? ) and in time, flies away. Leaving us to wonder about renaming the boat: Free Range Boobies?

Approaching Jaco (Marina Suenos) where we’re picking up two of Bruce & Sharon’s friends (Moffett and Patrick); will grab some groceries and wifi; then about face to Islas Tortugas for snorkeling ;-) Sending love and blessings XOXO Mom / Betsy

Beneath the surface

Friday night
Here I am, lying off a beach in Costa Rica; scratching - in vain - my stinging calves (where unseen critters lunched while I shuffled the length of the surf), wondering what to make for lunch, while all around me monkeys howl like the grumble of an empty stomach. I register the texture and heat of the non-skid deck ... the baying monkeys ... the granules of sand clinging to my skin ... the sea of microscopic bitey creatures ... Memories seep out of the cracks; I let time, like a heavy millstone, grind away at these thoughts, 'til they are crushed to dust and blow away in the wind.

This is our long-awaited 'cruising day off'. We do absolutely nothing, with the exception of fix a few meals, tidy up the dishes (and even that, Sharon makes the guys wash) and relax.

'Late morning we dinghy to shore and walk from one end to another. The sand looks like uncooked Rice-A-Roni: on close scrutiny we see it's tiny shreds of coral; tawny slivers that snap easily between your fingertips. Along the way a cluster of local youngsters squeal and play with a puffer fish they've captured in a small canal dug through the surf: his face like a Disney cartoon; his spines splayed all catawampus from the children's prodding; his too-small pectoral fins batting frantically against his expanding body. Eventually they tumble him through a muddy chute back to sea, where he swims off half-drunk.

We follow a trail into the jungle: ever-searching for monkeys. I see dark blobs in the crook of a tree and presume them to be wasp or termite nests . until one reaches around and scratches his butt. Small chocolate colored lumps suddenly materialize into monkeys - everywhere; their leathery faces watching us with interest. A baby, smaller than my fist, hugs his momma's back. Another dangles upside down by only his tail. Now we see them all over, although they are mute; resting in the rising heat. A koatamundi ambles silently below us. The only noises are from shy birds hidden in the canopy: but judging by the calls there are plenty.

Wes and I swim back to the boat. The water is refreshing and later in the day I try to snorkel around FRC, but the water is thick and green with miniscule forms of life (that only afterwards leave you feeling zapped with bites and stings). 'Best to see nothing anyway, as fish boils regularly gurgle up in the bay: what could be so big and fearsome beneath the surface, to make sea creatures shoot straight up out of the vital water - as if they want to become birds and fly away?

Today will bring more of the same, until just before dusk when we pull up anchor and head to Bahia Herradura (Jaco) - more from there. All are well, brown like coconuts, well-rested&fed ;-)

LOVE and MISS YOU! Have fun at the party tonight (and be careful driving) and send everyone my love and HoHoHo! XOXO Mom / Betsy

----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com

Monkeys! (Dec 10)

‘Grilled up that last big mahi (at last) to the hooting and barks of howler monkeys in the thick jungle surrounding our little half-moon bay at Anclaje (anchorage) Nacascolo last night. The last few days have been a pleasant reward for our snotty toil from Huatulco south.

 

We were quarantined from our arrival Tuesday afternoon until late Wednesday: ‘stuck’ at the new Marina Papagayo in the north end of Bahia Culebra (Bay of Snakes – eek!) in northwestern Costa Rica, until Customs & Immigration cleared us in. I voraciously took advantage of the amenities during that time: namely the pool and gym -- plus the wifi, laundry room, and remarkably good bar food. Offshore boating doesn’t provide you that much activity (especially on a boat with push-button winches) so it felt wonderful to MOVE: swim, work out a little (in a modern mini-gym with a/c and TVs even!) and walk the docks and property. If I sound a little insane about that – consider this: ten years ago at this time I couldn’t walk. Could Not Walk. If you have ever had something so precious and yet so basic as your ability to walk stripped from you, you understand. Walking, seeing, hearing, breathing – you take these things for granted and yet ... a decade ago I was in agonizing pain, hobbling with a cane, looking at the prospect of life in a wheelchair. Had I been a German Shepherd they would have put me down! Nine years ago today I had the last of three major surgeries (in 11 months) to fix all the broken parts ... then months of physical therapy, trying and testing ... Every morning I wake up THANKFUL that I can walk! ‘That I am pain free! And I am so protective of this precious ability to be mobile, if I seem a bit lunatic about this – perhaps I am.

 

Wednesday night we were finally cleared and joined a friend in Playas Coco for dinner and some sightseeing in the cramped, scrubby, but cheerful downtown that serves the whole bay. Then we wound back on the shadowy roads to the marina and joined the crew of EOS (the world’s largest privately-owned sailing yacht) at the bar, ‘til closing ... we continued a small party onboard FRC until the wee hours: a very entertaining night and fitting celebration of our passage!

 

Despite the late hour we were up early to explore a trail in the hills flanking the marina, and look for monkeys (guess what: monkeys DON”T get up early ;-/ ... they are smarter than us ;-o). We picked our way through vines and greenery (getting whiplash as we alternately looked DOWN for snakes and UP for monkeys and spider webs): but nothing too rough – until the end when the trailhead emerged immediately behind the bulls eye at a nearby resort’s archery range!!! LUCKILY no-one was shooting when we popped out of the jungle ... ‘cause for a bit of (nervous) laughter! Then we trekked back along the road where I visited the pool (again!) and the guys monkeyed with the boomvang before we took off for Playas Cocos: a wet dinghy ride to shore, decent dismount, short trek through vendors plying snowcones, painted gourds, hammocks and t-shirts along the scruffy streets, to the supermercado. Several restaurants were decorated with Christmas lights and I wistfully thought of home, family, friends, parties I am missing – and how eager I am to seeing my folks in a couple of weeks!

 

Stocked up with fresh food and Lizano (!) we got back to the beach and approached a few fisherman about a panga to take us back to the boat (nobody likes soggy groceries!) ... no sooner had we asked than Carlos peeled off his shirt and began swimming to the moorings. After our swift, dry panga ride to FRC we circled the bay and picked this lonely, quiet anchorage – save for the racket of monkeys hidden in the lush forest.

 

This morning I awoke early (we are officially in the Central American Time zone even though we are due south of the Florida panhandle; so we’re really an hour ‘off’ here :-?) and dragged my blanket on deck to enjoy the cool breezes, the cacophony of bird calls, and water gurgling past the hull (swift tide) as the sun rose. Today we’ll RELAX and dink around the bay; Saturday afternoon we’ll head south (overnight) for Jaco to pick up more crew (Sunday), then about-face back across Golfo Nicoya to the Islas Tortugas, where we’ll spend a day (Monday) snorkeling and enjoying these little islands. At least ... that’s the plan for now.

Sending love, over and out J XOXO Mom / Betsy  

 

Costa Ricissimo!

We had hoped when we finally tucked in behind Cabo Sant Elena (Costa Rica) the seas would die down in the lee of this cape ...

Not so.

The past several days have delivered winds averaging in the high 20s (alternately ducking into the teens and gusting into the mid 30s) with square short-set waves sending spray everywhere. The hatches are dribbling, we have been living on our ear – life has been tedious. Showering: non-existent. Cooking: difficult. Using the bathroom: heinous. Sleep: trying.

For some strange (?) reason – despite boisterous wind from an excellent angle – we have continued motor-sailing: BANGING into the seas at full throttle ... and the slamming has been intense. Sadly we zipped past Nicaragua (as well as Guatemala and El Salvador) missing their colorful cultures and primeval landscapes ... As if to punish us for the slight, Nicaragua sent us her worst Papagallo winds, and we huddled beneath the dodger or slept below decks, during the worst of these blasts.

Making landfall in Bahia Culebra, Costa Rica - past Islas Murcielagos and the reef jutting out east to west – the winds continued ‘til the last possible moment; and then finally there was calm ... ahhhhhh .... We motored to Marina Papagayo at the northwestern corner of the bay, where we’ll remain “quarantined” (at the pool / bar / gym / resort / game room ) until we get approval from customs & immigration ... then we’re released to explore the 13 anchorages here in Bahia Culebra before heading south to rendezvous with additional crew Dec 12 at Jaco.

We have well survived the Bahia Tehuantepec: a 900-mile voyage ... but are ready for some well-deserved R&R (Rum and ??? ) Enjoying the celebration of a successful passage, to a new port-of-call :-) Over & out xoxo

Festival of Lights

Dec 5
Shooting stars ... distant lightning ... bioluminescence ... flashing strobes on fishing pangas ...

We had our own magnificent 'festival of lights' last night, heralding the holiday season :-) Lightning flared over the towering volcanic peaks of Guatemala, illuminating the entire sky. Stars fell. Humble fishing boats (that didn't show up on radar) signaled their whereabouts with erratic strobe lights. Dolphins dashed around the boat, creating meteors of bioluminescence in the water, while staccato bursts of the neon-greenish light suggested schools of fish and other mysterious sea creatures. At one point we scared up a flock of seabirds, whose white bellies glowed red in our port bow light as thy took flight. It was magical, enchanting, and I literally squealed with joy and surprise at every new spark of light above and beyond.

Today those small birds (Petrel of some sort? Although they look like undersized Boobie birds, so we have started calling them 'A-cups') kept us company - and amused - for quite a while. They gathered in small flocks - 3, 4 or 5- and swung towards the boat, poised to land .. their raspy chirps chiding each other as if to say 'You go first!' - 'No, you!' - 'No, YOU!' ... only to abort at the very last instant. I paid keen attention to their antics, as God talks to me through the birds (yes, yes I know - you think I've lost the plot, who cares) I will explain more, once I have internet and am not sucking up all the sailmail minutes. Just sayin', we had a beautiful day at sea today: sunshine, dolphins, and plenty of fish!

We caught more Mahi than we can possibly eat - and after taking two & releasing two more, we reeled in our lines. Tonight Sharon is doing her magic with the fillets :-) Last night was my turn: stuffed the cleaned fish with julienned ginger, carrots and onions, and a dab of mayo, sealed in an envelope of foil schmeared with butter, and steamed on the barbie 20-30 min. Oooh la la!

Life onboard is good - we're standing watches, eating well, got the a/c on right now; we are off El Salvador and HOPING to get to Puesta del Sol Nicaragua tomorrow (Mon) by nightfall - if not we'll standoff til dawn. Stay tuned. LOVE YOU MUCH xoxo Mom / Betsy

----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com/

Sea-Saw

RIGHT OUT THE GATE the seas foretold what was to come: leaving Marina Chahue's slender rock-framed channel, the seas were rollin'. We seesawed out into the bay and turned left on a northeast track toward the apex of Bahia Tehuantepec. Everything was stowed, battened down, lunch and dinner made - so I napped ... until the seas were so steep I was airborne in my bunk and sleep was no longer an option. The autohelm was on, so I relieved it - hoping by hand I could avoid the worst of the 'slammers'.

The wind was still negligible. We were hugging the coast, in the lee of the point, hiding from the big wind: t we could see it coming. White horses romped in the dark blue seas to starboard, and kept getting closer .. it was as if we were on the on-ramp for the Windy Freeway: with the median between FRC and the windline growing narrower every minute. Within half an hour the wind was 20k and building. It as exciting to helm (and wet); the anemometer racking up the windspeed as we tacked in and out of the bays to avoid the worst of it, until we got around the point and could avoid it no longer. We were in the thick of it - the Tehuantepeccers - where the tremendous mountains fade to lowlands at the middle of the isthmus, and let the stiff cold breezes of North America blast through.

Hours later the excitement had worn off: living on your ear (the wind just skimmed 40k), rocking and slamming through the dark night, isn't much fun. But it was tolerable. As is common practice crossing the BofT, you hug the shore ("one foot on the beach") so the blustery weather doesn't have as much chance to build up big wind waves. It adds miles, and concern about hitting land, buoys, unmarked rocks or other traffic ... but we kept good watch all night and everything was fine.

1-3AM the night was moonless, dark; the stars dimmed by the perpetual haze - but a-plenty. I realized my confusion in finding familiar celestial friends: we were travewling east! Now, as a California Girl, I have sailed south, southwest, south-southeast, and even north (when it's time to take the boat home) but rarely do e sail east in California! (the desert gets in the way). The wind vacillated from 12-38 at whim, and the sails went up - down - in - out accordingly. The seas are willy-nilly - just all over the place and short set. There is not rhyme or reason to their patterns, in this vast fishless sea (no, we haven't caught anything lately!!).

Later, after the sun had risen, I admired the magnificent coast with its layer upon layer of mountains; conical shapes, spires, crags, notched peaks: towering high - boasting the miracle of creation. Clouds hug the highest summits: it is thrilling to think the Atlantic is just over the other side!!!

It is now 1030AM Saturday - and naptime. Over & out xoxo Betsy-Mom

** I LIED - WE JUST CAUGHT A BIG MAHI! woo hoo! We cross into Guatemalan waters tonight **

----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com

on the eve of departure: 'less than ballistic'

We are all cramming in our last internet fixes - knowing we'll be out of touch the next five days ...

... the first of which looks to be Hades. After reviewing the latest weather forecasts Chewey sends out an email to his friends saying 'The wind hasn't totally abated, but we hope it will be less than ballistic.'

'Less than ballistic.' Looks like an a** kicking to me.

Having finished my chores in the a.m. I spent my last afternoon in Mexico luxuriating at Playa Chahue and the nearby hotel pool. The same wind that is likely to hammer us tomorrow afternoon made the beach delightful – slightly less humid, with a fresh, gusty breeze. After a while I left my lonely patch of playa – its pale, fine grit and tumultous crashing surf – for the hotel. Again I was the only one swimming, so I splashed and played and lapped the length of the pool (skirting the knobby seats at the swim-up bar) in the cool delicious water, and floated on my back looking at the frigate birds circling overhead. I continue to puzzle about why I’m here, what I’m doing – but my advisor tells me I’m ‘on the right track’ so I happily keep moving forward: even though the steps are wobbly and I can’t for the life of me see my destination. Some sort of passage or pilgrimage: I guess. Faithfully I move on -- I am eager, even excited, to experience what lies ahead!

Holy Molé

Dec 1 –
For the second time in a month I’ve had an amazing molé (last time in Cabo, this time in an authentic Oaxacan eatery) ... this is something I definitely need to learn how to make ;-) you could douse an old shoe with a good molé and it would be a gastronomic sensation ...

Marina Chahue is new, remote, and – for a marina – fairly clean. Thousands of silvery baitfish reside in the channel, drawing throngs of frigate birds (“friggin’ birds” we call them) that swirl overhead like vultures, hunting the fish ...

There’s a Capri (reminds me of fun times on Sue & Barry’s first boat) on the hard in the adjacent yard, named “Plum Crazy” - love it ;-)

A new condo-hotel opened just yesterday across the highway: I implore them to let me use the pool ... ahhhhh! It’s cool and refreshing and all-to-myself ;-)

We’re holed up in Marina Chahue (pron: Cha-way) waiting for the Tehuanapeccers* to relax a bit. (*these are the prevailing winds that blow this time of year - being ‘Gale Season’ while the rest of you are enjoying ‘Holiday Season’) across the Gulfo Tehuantepec** (**I think the loose translation of ‘Tehuantepec’ from the ancient Mayan term = wind-that-blows-balls-off-of-bulls ). Winds here originate from a high-pressure system over Texas, and whip down and across the Gulf of Mexico through the narrow isthmus – just 125m across – where a tmesis in the Sierra Madre provides a gap (the Chivela Pass) for the winds to whistle through. The venturi effect boosts the breeze to an average of Force 4: right now the forecasts are 30-35k ... we were hoping for something a tad lighter so our ears don’t get wet, but we will probably leave Friday at dawn ‘come hell or high water’ (in this case, the cliché being literal, not figurative) as we have a canal to cross (Panama) before Christmas! Other fun facts: the average temp. is 95F, the annual rainfall is 156”. This is one steamy place (malaria is rampant on the opposite / wetter coast) occupied predominantly by the indigenous Zapotecs: a matriarchal society.

We learn that from here – Huatulco – the wind is expected to be on the nose ‘til Salina Cruz; then we crack off for a hearty beam reach (30-50k) across Bahia Ventuosa (Windy Bay). The situation and place names are making me think of a new country western song: High Pressure Over Texas, Windy Bay, Solo Dios (One God); ‘Pomperos & Papagallos & Tehuantepeccers – Oh My!’ (sung to the tune of ‘Lions & Tigers & Bears – Oh My!’) ...

Much of what we do in port is prep for the next leg, and (among other things) that means re-provisioning! I love the local markets, where you buy whatever looks good - including sometimes strange foods :-? Yesterday’s shopping trip reaped tomatoes, onions, lettuce, green beans; zucchini, eggplant and peppers for ratatouille; we have a load of avocados, chayote, oranges, papaya, and ‘granadillas’ (I can’t remember the Castellano name ...) These tart wrinkly fruits remind me of the do-it-yourself-safari in South Africa with Scolby, KTB & JennJenn, when monkeys broke into our rondavel and zocked* our granadillas (*stole - in a very messy sort of way) – so of course I buy a sack of them, to rekindle that delightful memory :-D

Dec 2

The latest (8AM Thursday) passageweather.com forecast confirms our departure tomorrow morning Dec 3 at the high tide, and when there's enough daylight to see the rocks sprinkled throughout the harbor entrance. Winds are forecast to be in the 20-25 range so that is tolerable, and will get us on our way! We have nearly 900 miles to cover before we get to our next destination – Puesta del Sol, Nicaragua – which will take approx. four to five days: with much of that aft of the beam ;-) But the days are getting shorter, and the moon will be slight; so please keep us in your prayers for a smooth passage (and lots of fish)!! XO