Wa-HAKA!

We are cruising along the picturesque Oaxaca (wa-HAKA) coast, making about 8k on flat blue seas toward Huatulco. Having left Acapulco on Saturday, we weren’t sure of making it to Huatulco by dusk Sunday, so we ducked back to Puerto Angel for the night. Actually, we have no clue what time it is, what time the sun rises or sets ... we are traveling east so much we are crossing time zones and every day it is different. So – unaware of the times for sunrise/sunset/tides – Puerto Angel seemed the prudent destination. And it was gorgeous! A compact little harbor with rugged headlands on either side, and a stretch of palapa-peppered main beach that curves from north to southeast, connected to the beach in the northwest corner by a stone malecon carved out of the cliffs. I wish we’d had more time and been able to go ashore ... alas at the crack of dawn we were underway again.

Along the way we were dodging sea turtles by the hundreds. The beaches of Oaxaca are prime nesting grounds for turtles and they appear to ‘stand by for breeding’ in the waters off the sandy shore. Their shiny wet backs glisten in the sun, so they are easy to see – bobbing in the waves, creating a slalom course for FRC.

** Just arrived in Huatulco (29 NOV 1045HRS accd’g to the torture watch)! Glad we waited ‘til bright daylight ... the harbor entrance is hemmed by rocky reefs and the marina channel is narrow – with waves breaking against the foreboding cliff that holds the red beacon.

Sunrise over Aca-poo-poo

There are things that tip you off to an arrival, when you're otherwise dead asleep after a mid-night watch. An obvious change in course (that alters the motion of the boat) ... the sound of the main coming down . the purr of the engine coming on (or if you're motoring -a welcome decrease in RPMs) ...

I woke up to a pink Saturday morning as we approached Acapulco: the crimson sun rising through the haze making everything rosy: the first of the fishing fleet quietly peeling lines in the glassy sea. EVerything south of Zihuatanejo is 'virgin territory' for me: I've sailed the Pacific coast from SF to Z-town (and back & forth to Hawaii) and the Atlantic coast from Florianopolis, Brazil to Punta Arenas, Chile - and now have a chance to 'fill in the blanks' on FRC.

Last night was ultra dark, which made the bioluminesence all the more spectacular. Tiny sea creatures winked neon green in our wake,and dolphins shot glow-in-the-dark contrails alngside our hull. When the moon did rise over the distant towering mountains, it was smoldering amber and half-open, like a cat's eye. The night was pensive and mystical and I enjoyed the serenity of the sea. Now we're tied up waiting for the PEMEX dock to open (at 9AM) and perhaps spend a night (or two) in Acapulco.

ADDENDUM: By noon we were leaving Aca-poo-poo: a truly inhospitable place if there ever was one, from price gouging at the fueldocks to the haughty staff at the yacht club. Crumbling buildings and skyscrapers stretch as far as the eye can see: we were glad to go. We're heading direct to Huatulco (or maybe Puerto Angel if we can't get there by nightfall tomorrow): it is steamy and still, so a day at sea - even if we are motorsailing - will be welcome.

Our travels have taken on a relaxed cadence: we are all getting on well, are comfortable, and churning away the miles toward Panama (*extra line handlers are wanted for the canal crossing, if anyone is inclined!). I too am churning away the miles, or as Iris would say 'putting wheels on the pavement' - letting time and distance do their magic. I am about 1,300 miles into my journeys (SD - here) and starting to feel more like myself again ... and have even rediscovered the ability to laugh at myself, and at the present time am writing a sordid sad country song ;-) -- but that will have to wait for another email.

Sending love and blessings from the blue blue sea XOXO Betsy / Mom

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small pleasures

Scalding pink, the sinking sun burned bright behind streaks of clouds. 'Wow, look at that sunset,' I called to the crew - but it was a dolphin who responded: leaping straight up out of the water, as if to take a last peek at the setting sun. We were surrounded by Pan Tropical Spotted dolphins, and several escorted FRC a ways, as we gathered on deck to watch; but this one kept rocketing into the air, higher and higher, to a backdrop of red and purpley hues.

A few minutes earlier hundreds of birds had appeared in tight wedges, flying in from nowhere in particular toward their roosts on the stark rocks jutting south of Zihuatanejo. We have pulled up anchor and are now underway Friday night (11-26) for Acapulco ... we think ...

This afternoon we got nixed on a slip there, so were heading to Ixtapa just around the corner from Z-town. Motoring into the marked channel we hit bottom: 'boom, boom, BOOM!' This: marked 9' deep in the cruising guides, leading to a major marina! But no such luck for us - we backed out slowly, using the swells and surges of incoming waves to free us up, turned back around and journeyed down the coast.

From here our trip gets a little more serious: we need to fuel up, buy a few provisions, do laundry, and basically prep for our crossing of Bahia Tehuantepec. We're anticipating a five-day crossing once we leave Huatulco, as we won't stop until we get to Nicaragua. The bay can be extreme, so we may end up waiting a few days for a weather window in Huatulco too ... time will tell and I'll write more when we (hopefully) get somewhere with internet! ... at which point I'll fill you in on our T-giving in Z-Town and post more pix ... 'Til then, sending love - XO Betsy / Mom

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Buoyancy

Nov 22
Turtles are floating here and there, their slick dark shells jutting out of the sea like rubber tires. I don't know how or why they float so much above the surface of the ocean (I am determined to find out) but they hover so far out of the water birds perch on their backs, creating a silly (yet symbiotic) spectacle. Sometimes they pop their heads up like periscopes - to check us out; others flee - their flippers flaying clumsily as they sink away.

Turtles are dear to my heart ... (maybe because when I was little I had such a tight cluster of blond curls on my little head that bobbled on a long neck over my thunderous torso and thighs - my folks said I looked like a tortoise in my crib). A few years ago I worked on a doco on Florida's red tide which, in addition to other tragedies, struck the sea turtle population hard. The neurotoxins in the red tide rendered these dignified creatures completely immobile. Paralyzed, they were brought to Mote in Sarasota where for MONTHS they subsisted in plastic tubs continually misted with water. Twice a day a Vet and assistants would come and lift these motionless 'rocks' on end; force feed them, take a blood sample, and gently swab th tears from their eyes; until hopefully they recovered. Like canaries in coal mines, turtles are the barometers of the ocean and it is encouraging to see so very many here off the southern coast of Mexico.

Nov 23
Today was another milky day: a bright haze hung over the placid water as we motored first from Barra to Manzanillo (yesterday); now we are underway to Zihuatanejo - another 20 hours to the south. The sea looked like icing as the sun got low; now that it has set (behind some ominous flat-bottomed clouds) we're getting ready to grill a yellowfin tuna we caught (having already enjoyed sashimi appetizers). Expecting to be in Z-town just after dawn and there for T-giving ;-) Love to all

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Jane of the Jungle

Nov. 21
WHY?' you might ask am I at the posh Grand Bay Hotel in Barra Navidad and not on the boat ... which is laying on its side in the sand and disappearing water, at the entrance to the shallow anchorage just past the marina. After several hours of unsuccessful attempts, Sharon and I bailed on the guys and our Titanic-like existence and opted for the luxury and upright life of a five star hotel. More on that later - in the meantime here are my notes from the past few days:

Nov 19 a.m.
It is glassy calm this morning. We are readying - unhurriedly - for our jungle cruise. Beneath the surface of the slick water unseen threats send flying fish flying ... joining the many butterflies in the steamy tropical air. Our friendly dolphins (Nic and Nac, I have named them: the former having a very chewed-off dorsal fin) are nowhere to be seen, but there are two new boats in the anchorage for them to ply their apparent curiosity on.

p.m.
After a lazy morning we finally set off on our jungle expedition. Our first challenge was getting the dinghy through the surf at the north end of the beach, which is hemmed with rocks where cormorants perch in Batman poses (on the left) and shoaling (on the right). Ah yes we got pretty drenched in the process but didn't flip, leaping out into the swiftly running current and alternately dragging and gunning the dinghy ('GRRAR, GRRAR, GRRAR!" as it chewed up the sand) about 1/4 mile through the breakers and up the stream.

Around the bend the water spread out into a lagoon, and a fisherman pointed the best route - 'el centro' - for our putter upstream. The pond was bathed in sun; lime green dragonflies dive-bombed the surface of the water while crazy fish (mullets?) rocketed out from the other size; and enormous white butterflies danced like drunken angels. It smelled fresh and green.

As we continued the brook (not really a river - perhaps a 'riacho') narrowed. While at first the vegetation had been mixed - jungle, deciduous, interspersed with tall cactus - it became a dense mangrove forest and the foliage enveloped us in an opaque canopy. Tiny skittish spotted crabs with crimson claws were everywhere, shyly clicking sideways as we meandered by. The birds were equally bashful - egrets, some type of capri blue herons, and others that looked like kingfishers. It smelled dank and rotten; but we saw tajones (also called coatimundi), and caimans! These mini-crocodiles (we called them 'jacare' in Paraguay) froze when we approached, until we got too close and they slithered away. (Personally i was thrilled at how timid they were, seeing we were wading and swimming in this water!)

Well over an hour we wound our way upstream, ducking beneath the outstretched tendrils of the mangroves, pushing aside slimy logs, and dodging giant spiders in webs 4' wide, until the sun broke through again and we came to a clearing, were the promised landing for the palapa - with cold beer and fish tacos - was situated. Except the path to the palapa was fenced off with barbed wired, and a trio of Federales (Mexican police - with guns) looked at us quizzically. In our best Spanglish we queried about crossing to the beachfront eatery, but they encouraged us to leave so we did so at once! Back down the meandering stream - this time benefiting from the 2-knot current - and back to the bay. A restaurant there was boarded up too, so we shoved the dinghy out through the surf and headed to FRC for siestas and dinner.

Now, the nighttime betrays more 'civilization' than we'd realized: several hotels and settlements are lit up in the dark (thank goodness the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM of the distant disco has ceased!) The air smells fresh and cool, with a tinge of basura smoke (Viva la Mexico!). Waves hammer the beach in a semi-circle around us, but we are well clear of shore, having moved to the center of the bay to deter mozzies and no-see-ums. The moon is bright and nearly full, beckoning wishes and dreams.

SEE PICTURES HERE

Nov 20

After a walk the length of the beach at Tenacatita, and a short dip in the hazy green bay, we packed up FRC and got underway, motoring to Barra Navidad about a dozen miles south. Along the way I made fish tacos - and discovered the reason our mystery fish is called 'Toro' ('bull' - not Pompano as we thought) -- the thick red flesh looks like sirloin steak! But the tacos were good ...

Arriving at Navidad we eked through the channel and tentatively into the shallow anchorage, where several panga drivers flagged us down to point the way through the muddy shoals. Eventually got the anchor down, with nary a foot to spare beneath the keel, and enjoyed a brisk breeze which lasted into the night. We went into town for dinner - taking a panga instead of the splashy dinghy ride. At night the pangas run swiftly, without lights, and it is exhilarating as they zip across the glassy bay under a full moon ... but you sure don't want to be an unsuspecting dinghy in their way!

Nov 21
The French Baker (who I remember from my visit here five ? years ago) motors across the slick water in his panga this quiet morning. What a treat, and dichotomy, in a lonely Mexican anchorage, to have fresh baked croissants, baguettes, and quiches! I get some pastries for the crew for our Sunday breakfast, and place an order for herb bread and baguettes for tomorrow, when we will depart for Manzanillo. That's it for now ... over & out xoxo Betsy / Mom

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wild-life

The voyage from Punta Mita to Tenacatita - from the sailing point of view - was blase' ... little wind, and certainly from the wrong direction. But FRC is a cruising yacht so we swiftly and comfortably were underway.

From from the standpoint of scenery and marine life however it was wild! The coast of Mexico here is alternately rugged - with crimson bluffs (perched with palatial homes in the most unlikely of places) and rocks jutting out in the sea; or desolate - stretches of pale sandy beach fringed with huge breakers. Backdrop to it all is a towering green mountain range with conical peaks poking here or there. It looks primeval.

Sea turtles dotted our path, and we had so many boobies surrounding the boat we threatened to rename FRC 'Victoria's Secret'! One even snagged a fishing line - these birds definitely are dumb! - and we had to cut the lure from the tip of its' wing. A trio of humpback whales tracked lazily alongside us for a while ... and then there were the fish ...

The telltale swirl of birds directed us into toward a fish boil along the spectacular coast between Punta Etiopa and Punta Farralon. FOAMING with fish, the sea looked like whitewater rapids. Standing on the bow looking down I reminisced about viewing a tank at the aquarium - you could see swarms of tiny shimmery fish being chased by larger anchovies, hunted by medium sized fish and so on: with increasingly larger fish joining the chase, and opportunistic birds sweeping up spoils from atop. The deep blue sea turned silver and gold with the underwater activity, and as we drove through the center of these boils we heard the line buzz (repeatedly). We caught what we THINK are Pompano (and kept just one: they are large) ... with Chewey and Sharon dispatching him immediately. They were a fish slaying / fileting machine - and soon the crimson meat of our mystery fish was filling the fridge.

After our exciting passage we arrived in Bahia Tenacatita - actually several smaller bays all providing great anchorage; we chose the middle (northeastern) spot as there's a small river we plan to explore by dinghy Friday - bringing lots of bug spray for sure! On arrival the guys got to work deploying the dinghy and I decided to take a swim: but was nearly scared off by their suggestion of crocodiles (Bruce even put the theme to JAWS on the stereo!! very funny...not!) I have a very real fear of getting eaten alive by unseen things in the water (well everyone knows I'm a huge chicken about everything so - no surprise here!) regardless, I shed my silver jewelry, put on my NEW well-fitting snorkel and mask (thank you Coco!) and slid in. The water was refreshing alas hazy and green ... two lazy dolphins swum nearby (no closer than 40' -- plenty close for me thanks) so I figured the threat of crocs was moot. I floated and splashed around close to the boat til the sun tucked behind the bulk of Punta Chubasco and it got chlly ... after a hot shower I helped Sharon with a marvelous dinner of fish baked with onions, garlic and tomatillos on a bed of pasta,with salad.

These days have been easy and fun, and there are several more short hops to idyllic spots ahead. Our real work will come when we cross the bay of Tehuanapec and traverse the long stretch of ocean between Mexico and Costa Rica. So we are enjoying our lazy days of sightseeing now!

All well, sending love ~ XO Betsy Mom

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The Sequel

PLAYFUL BAT RAYS propel from the water - their wings flapping wildly. "I can fly! I can fly! I can ... SPLAT!" they seem to say. Their unfussy black and white shapes make them look even more comical - cartoon-like you might say - sparking joy and humorous comments from the crew, as these tenacious little buggers repeatedly launch, and crash into the sea.

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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Bay of Dreams

CABO Nov 6

We were searching the side streets – unsuccessfully – for a restaurant Pamela had read about when we passed a woman making tortillas at a stove on the street, in front of a sliver of a restaurant tucked next to a shabby corner market. I asked if I could see a menu, and as she opened the door, the most delectable smells escaped. Cinnamon, coffee, chili, mole ... if scents were tangible, giant tendrils and octopus-like tentacles – in swarthy, earthy, buttery colors; steaming with warmth; pulsing with sensuality – would have burst out the door, clutched us, and dragged us in.

Pamela, her nose leading the way, followed Martin ("Mar-teeeen" - the bearer of menus) as if in a trance as we ventured in for ‘just an appetizer’. Inside this wedge of space several hand-hewn wooden tables and chairs were set with decorative ware from San Miguel de Allende. Pamela melted into the cocoa brown adobe wall as Martin described the modest menu items, and we selected a combination of gorditas, quesadillas, sopas and – of course – mole (... Martin apologizing repeatedly for not having chicken enchiladas for the mole but that was moot: you could have put that mole on a sock and it would have been delicious). The food was sumptuous – the service doting. Paul asked if they had any tequila and Martin ran out the door, returning a few minutes later with a bottle. We nipped on sweet tequila and ooh’d and aah’d until we couldn’t eat any more.

The restaurant is called Los Tres Gallos. Oddly enough, we had a similar experience a few days later in La Paz. We were looking for a restaurant we'd read about ... the taxi driver dropped us off at the wrong place ... but when we looked at both eateries, we opted for his suggestion: Las Tres Virgenes (does everything come in threes?): an elegant courtyard, open to the sky - with fabulous food, charming service and talented mariachis.

Somewhere in here is a lesson on searching so hard for what you THINK you are looking for, that you risk missing the perfect thing when you stumble upon it ...

Los Frailes Nov 8

I looked over and saw Pamela enveloped in a cloud of shimmering fish. The dappled sunlight that made its way through the sea reflected off their silvery shapes at odd angles so they looked like an explosion of confetti. Then a swathe of fish schooled my way and surrounded me, and I parted them like Moses parting the Red Sea, with a sweep of my arms.

Based on our lack of success in catching any fish on this trip, I had been expecting a barren sea. So we were pleasantly surprised to find so many colorful creatures in the tumble of rocks at the bottom of Cerro Los Friales – Friars’ Hill, which lends this anchorage its name.

We’d arrived last night (Sunday) from Cabo, anchored, took a swim, enjoyed bbq’d chicken kabobs and wine, and had a relatively early night. Today was the scheduled playday; so with TUGTUB securely anchored several hundred feet offshore, we took the dinghy to the edge of the promontory. We attempted to anchor there first ... but a huge set of swells came in and we hastily abandoned that for a rough-and-tumble beach landing. Dragging the dink high above the surfline, we clumsily donned our fins and masks, dodging the biggest waves, and made our way into the water.

Everywhere we looked there were scores of Parrotfish and dozens more fish I can’t identify. On boulders nearby Pelicans watched us with piqued curiosity. After snorkeling an hour or two or ? (I have no idea what time it is) Paul returned to the boat for some money and shoes, and Pamela and I met him down the beach. On our walk we found a cluster of buzzards and gulls enjoying a buffet of dead manta ray - its long tail squiggling behind; and several other dead fish, so dried out in the hot Baja sun they looked like plastic toys. We passed the shacks of the small fish camp and made our way to a dirt road – but didn’t know which way to go to look for the tienda. Flagging down a pickup truck we asked the guys where we could get food and beer and after a few puzzled looks they invited us to hitch a ride, and took us to a small restaurant down a windy road edged with cactus.

An old man greeted us at the palapa (later we found out it is called “El Regional Restaurante Los Friales) and soon Manuel and Crystal appeared. Manuel brought us very cold Pacificos while Crystal began pulling food out of coolers and preparing lunch: breaded chicken breast with cheese for Paul; a combo plate for Pamela and me: sautéed scallops, coconut shrimp, and lobster tail! It was fantastic, washed down with a few beers (they had no water or sodas so we were forced to drink beer!)

As we were leaving one of the old-timers sitting nearby offered us a ride back to the playa. I slid in along the sagging front seat next to Juan Rios, who tucked his giant bottle of beer between his legs, and Pamela climbed in next to me: squeezing past the permanently open glove box which housed a collection of dusty cassette tapes. Not so lucky was Paul, who had to sit in the bed of the pickup along with several old tires and scores of empty beer cans (and possibly some other rubbish, based on the aroma). But considering the heat, the distance, and our condition after three beers, the ride was welcome. We had an uneventful dinghy launch and ride back to the boat; I jumped back in the water to wash my hair and bathe, then siesta’d on deck. It has been a delightful day of R&R, but now we’ve had to get the boat ready to depart early tomorrow (Tues) for Los Muertos – another 45 nm up the coast. Eventually we’ll muster up something for dinner (we restocked veggies and meats in Los Cabos) and probably hit the hay early – as it is 5:30 and already dark.

Nov. 9

Another glorious day; and we find ourselves tonight at Bahia Los Suenos – ‘the Bay of Dreams’. It does not escape me that I am here specifically to help Pamela and Paul begin to live their dream – just like a year ago, when I was on hand (like a midwife) helping Marie and JP give birth to their dream. One day it will be me – on the threshold of my dreams, so eager and ready to take the plunge ... I thought I was there just months ago but was mistaken. Some day my dreams will become my reality but for now, I take great pleasure (and learn a lot) with friends who don’t just dream dreams: but make dreams come true.

Our day did not start out so glorious. A very squealy fanbelt required attention before we could leave the anchorage at Los Frailes ... that crisis averted, we were underway at 7:30 with a light wind on our nose. It seemed a bucolic but boring day was ahead, but by 11:30 the wind had built and clocked, and thus began an incredible romp all the way into Bahia Los Suenos – once called Bahia Los Muertos.

The wind rushed up to 15k off the beam; the seas were flat (mostly- until the last hour or so ... ) the sky blue, the splashes of water - warm, and the fish ... non-existent (still ) . Even so, it was a fabulous day; I drove more than half the way – enjoying the conditions and the chance to eek a little more VMG out of the boat. Fantastic!

Dropping anchor in the bahia, we noticed several dark fish darting toward the surface of the turquoise water. We couldn’t wait to get in! From hook to swimsuit was about 5 minutes: swiftly we were in the warm sea, swimming around, spying fish and the many skates and rays snuggled in the sandy bottom of the bay. Around 5:30 pm we called the restaurant ashore to come pick us up: Tony arrived in a lapis blue panga and sped us to a floating dinghy dock, where we leapt to a rocky ledge and scrambled up steep rock steps to a gravel road leading to an elegant palapa. We enjoyed a mix of shrimp and mahi and carne asado, with margaritas and cerveza; ending with a nightcap of tequila with the crew of MOSHULU, then sped back to our boat with Tony; enjoying the rush of bioluminescence in our wake.

Bioluminescence is one of my favorite things in the world. If you don’t know what bioluminescence is – you are just not living. Like the billions of stars lighting the sky, these tiny creatures light up the seas at night. I simply delight in their beauty.

Now it’s nearly 9PM ... everyone has gone to bed and I am readying myself: to sleep beneath the expansive starry night: the waves rushing gently ashore; the stiff breezes of the day calmed to cool zephyrs. I am content, HOPEFUL, and thankful to be here, and now. With love ~ Betsy.

Dreams come true

This has been a sweet day, not just marking the end of a voyage, but the beginning of a new life and adventure for Pamela and Paul.

As we anchored off the beach at Cabo (awaiting our slip) Pamela pointed out the pink hotel along the sandy strip: "Years ago we had drinks at the hotel bar and looked out at the boats anchored in front and said 'One day that will be us out there, cruising'. And here we are, today is that day," she said, a bit teary eyed.

What an incredible pleasure and gift to be in the company of friends making their dreams come true (once gain) and to be a small part of that process. It's been a marvelous sail from San Diego to Cabo: P&P are bright and delightful; their sailing skills excellent; their ingenuity in solving boat problems is impressive: they are truly 'ready for blastoff' ... I am thrilled for myself too - for having the chance to meet and befriend such wonderful people, and for raising my own bar. Everything on the trip went incredibly well and everyone got along great! It has been an absolute blessing.

So of course we celebrated - with dinner down the boardwalk here, then dancing at Squid Row and Cabo Wabo late into the night! Possibly a late morning tomorrow ...! Over & out! XO

Cabo!

Wednesday we enjoyed some of the sweetest sailing possible, on our final stretch to Cabo - warm and sunny, flat seas, perfect breeze on our quarter; it was heavenly ;-) Too nice to use the auto helm; Pamela and I took turns driving until the sun set - taking the wind with it.

We drew for watches and I pulled the 2-4AM watch :-P but not too unpleasant as the weather is mild now, and the stars - in the moonless night - incredible! I've seen several shooting stars and have been making wishes galore on this trip ...

After my watch I headed back to bed and slept soundly until the seas built and I ended up bouncing around in the forepeak (aka 'Woman Cave') soon I was airborne, as the bow bounced up and down but as I glanced out the window I spotted hotels! Land! We'd exceeded expectations and made it to Cabo San Lucas at dawn, rounding the corner and setting the hook -in really wild seas - by 8:30. Eventually we got a slip assignment and squeezed into the busy marina and a nice berth right near the Cantina. After 10 days at sea and in remote anchorages, the sites and sounds and volume of people in Cabo are truly overwhelming.

Drinks, showers, more drinks, drop off the laundry, more drinks ... we are chilling aboard TUG TUB now enjoying some R&R - back to work (and more writing) tomorrow.

In the meantime, here are my thoughts from earlier this week ;-)

What day is today anyway? Tuesday, November 2 ...

Last night’s ‘singles party’ (@BSM) was sheer mayhem. Paul and Dan had gone over early to set up the Tugtub while Pamela and I made dinner and our contribution to the potluck: a pumpkin spice cake decorated with a jack-o-lantern face made of craisins, almonds and pretzel sticks. We were visited by a few trick-or-treating kids (who all bellowed ARGH! when they approached in their dinghies) – donating Tootsie Pops and Oreos (not envying the parents with sugar-loaded kids aboard ...) When we returned to the raft-up an hour later the catamaran in the middle was sagging with HUNDREDS of people. I had to dinghy-hop with the painter across four layers of dinks; we tied up and clambered aboard the boats, where scores of drunken sailors covered every inch above and below decks. Empty bottles, cans and cups were strewn everywhere, sparsely clad young women talked with dirty old men sporting way too much facial hair ... ‘Doo-doo-doodoo, doo-doo-doodoo; -- we were stuck in a time warp! Paul tried his best to demo the hot tub but people were too wasted. Together we rescued a guy who fell between two of the rafted boats, and right before we left Pamela and I came upon a woman sprawled on deck so peculiarly, I bent over to check her pulse. We coaxed her (with much dragging & prodding) into the cockpit where at least she wouldn’t roll off the deck and do a Natalie Wood on us. It wasn’t a pretty picture, and we were glad to get back to TUGTUB where we enjoyed the last of our tequila in the peace and safety of our own vessel!

Today was the big beach party ashore: we convinced Diego, the panga driver who sold us some gasoline, to return at noon to taxi us ashore, so we could avoid the catastrophic dinghy landing in the rolling surf. He returned in his cornflower blue panga to zoom us across the anchorage and ashore to the playa. On the bluffs above was a surreal scene – a mass of colorfully-dressed people gathered around tents with a band trucked in from La Paz (125 miles away); a shrimp and fish taco stand (the line took about 1 ½ hours to negotiate); fishermen selling cold Pacificos; and a table for margaritas: meticulously measured out and mixed – one at a time – by one of the fisherman’s wives. The surrounding hills and beaches, the expanse of sand dunes and mangroves that stretched out for miles, were all vacant. Our hosts were delightful; the young fishing wives (with their broods of children) shy but smiling; the fishermen gregarious and helpful. Diego was waiting at the beach for us when we departed, and sped us across the bay to our boat. It was a fun day, followed by an awesome dinner of grilled steaks and then final prep for our 4AM departure tomorrow (Wednesday) enroute to Cabo!

Nov. 3

Even before 4AM Dan was rusting throughout the cabin -- peeking into the woman cave (AKA forepeak) to wake me, and I refused.

"It's 3:53 - I have seven more minutes," I snarled, pulling the covers over my head. But soon we were all up, layering on foulies to protect us from the cold and dew. The night before we had all prepped our gear and the boat, so it was an easy departure. We dodged several boats at anchor, and a few other early birds getting a head start on the day, and left for Cabo.

Thwarted in our efforts to catch fish of meaningful size, we discovered the culprit: foraging for a packet of mashed potatoes we found some banana nut muffin mix. Banana! No wonder we can't catch fish! So as soon as we were outside BSM we made coffee and muffins, then threw the lines out as dawn broke over Mag Bay.

2PM - what a lazy day this has been! The wind hovered around 3k all morning. I took my position on a cushion on the rail and slept in the warm sun. It was calm enough that Paul grilled hotdogs on the bbq on deck!

I finally brought in 'the lucky lure' (it was not) and put out 'big red' - my huge red and white cedar plug. This lure has the sexiest motion i've ever seen: how fish can resist it, i do not know. But the score remains 'TUGTUB: 0' in the catching department - meanwhile our friends on RED SKY have nailed five bonita and one yellowtail!

Later, while the guys each napped, Pamela and I took the autohelm off and started NBBF (navigating by bottom features) in an attempt to find fish. It was useless, but in that time the wind crept up to 12 knots and we hoisted the asymetrical kite again. It was a perfect afternoon sail with flat water and pleasant breeze - making an average 7.5k on rhum line! We have had some really delightful sailing on this trip; confirming Pamela and Pauls' confidence in their skills as they get ready to launch their big trip.

Update from BSM

10/31

"FISH ON!"
What sweet words to wake up to, as I napped on deck during my off watch. I'd dragged a cushion out of the cockpit to enjoy the warm sun; over time I'd felt the breeze pick up and cool, and now here was Dan – looking like a gigantic excited five-year-old – pulling in his first EVER fish: a teensy (but ambitious) yellowtail that looked even tinier being held up by a burly man with a week-old scruff of beard. Soon after we released 'Little Jack' the wind filled from the perfect angle and we hoisted the asymmetrical kite. The crew humored me and let me drive several hours, 'til it was finally time to start dinner. Now, 28 hours later, we're still under sail (wing & wing with the big genny) with another six or seven hours to Bahia Santa Maria.

Since I last wrote we enjoyed the official Baja Haha beach party at Bahia Tortuga. Having missed the costume party in San Diego (as we were still loading every nook and cranny of TUGTUB with stuff) we finally got to wear the Chilean Miner outfits Pamela put together. We thought we looked cool (and authentic) but were mistaken for a hazmat team, Texas longhorns (huh?), or boaters merely suited up with helmets and safety vests for the rowdy dinghy dismount in the surf.

There at the far end of Turtle Bay, at an otherwise deserted beach beneath barren toasty hills, was a massive potluck, with volleyball, tug-of-war and monkey golf games; beer, music and line dancing lessons (we were JUST getting the hang of it when Achy Breaky Heart played for the last time... ) When we got back to TUGTUB we soaked in the hot tub – letting it out on a long painter so we could drift way behind the boat. Floating in the 110° degree water, in the gently tumbling motion of the cove, was like being in a womb! Fittingly, I slept like a baby that night.

The next morning we had a 'rolling start' for the leg to Bahia Santa Maria (BSM), which lasted several hours until the wind came up. It has stayed up – getting kind of rowdy at night, and Pamela and I did some 'PRB' during our 8PM-Midnight watch. No, not "Pre-Race Beers" but "Professional Bull Riding" – as the motion of the big seas bucked us forward and aft, side to side, strewing anything that wasn't perfect stowed or tucked away, throughout the interior of the boat.

We've had a few more 'incidents' too (Pamela insists there's a force field that is attracting metals to fail, while repelling fish*) and yesterday all our Bob the Builder tools were out for several repairs - too lengthy to get into, but nothing so involved we couldn't fix. (*While I'm at it: Pamela and I are tied for the "DOH!" award: she for putting her line out all day yesterday with the little rubber safety tips still on the fishhook ;-)~ and me for making the GPS receiver go out whenever I go to the back of the boat : -? My hips?!)

A streak of golden orange greeted us this morning on our 4-8AM watch, as the sun rose out of the Pacific. Like a bright jack-o-lantern, it popped suddenly over the horizon, heralding a clear, sunny holiday. Happy Halloween! It has been a great day with lots of treats and no tricks; we are still under sail hoping to arrive in BSM around midnight; the beers are chilling and we are eager to anchor and get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep! "Gnite & love to all. Miss you! ~Betsy- Mom

ADDENDUM

11/1 (All Saints Day and Erin's Birthday!)

TUGTUB joined the parade of boats filing into Bahia Santa Maria: like the jets lining up at LAX -- waiting our turns in perfect intervals, as we negotiated the entrance in the dark night. "BSM" is a bay at the head of the much larger Bahia Magdalena (Mag Bay) with little more than a few fishing huts; although it resembled a carnival at night with the hodgepodge of anchor lights of assorted heights, the red and green lights of boats still motoring in, steaming lights, deck lights, and the occasional strobe signaling another particular boat.

This morning's roll call was postponed due to an emergency: a boat (not participating in the Haha) had gone up on the beach just outside BSM and the Poohbah and crew were rallying volunteers (over 50 turned out) to hike to the site (2-3 miles) to help salvage valuables and equiment off TACHYON before high tide. Pamela, Paul and Dan went; leaving me on anchor watch. I spent my day cleaning up the carnage from the past few days, peeling dried up squid off the decks and scrubbing their inky crime-scene outlines off the non-skid. (I thought about fun deck scrubbing KANALOA ;-) - I miss you LB!) and had plenty of time to contemplate. TUGTUB was spotless by the time the rescue team arrived home; now we're all enjoying a little down time before heading over to a raft-up party tonight. We're bringing the hot tub of course, snacks and drinks; tomorrow is the big beach party ashore – with a band, and vendors selling fish tacos and cold beers, all trucked into this remote fish camp from quite a distance. Insane!

Wednesday (I think. I'd hardly know what day it is, if not for the torture watch...) we leave for Cabo* – another overnight sail – and will stay there long enough to celebrate our passage, get laundry done and provision some fresh veggies, then it's off to La Paz – another two or three days, stopping each night. Looking forward to the warm water and climate of the Sea of Cortez! Although it is sunny here there's a cool breeze in the anchorage, and a swim is not too appealing (-- yet! Not til the hot tub is in!).

It is magnificent to be at sea, enjoying life at this pace, and the natural beauty of God's creation. I am feeling well and having a wonderful time with the folks on TUGTUB. But I am missing my loved ones, and sending you all warm wishes and big hugs. XOXO Betsy/Mom.

(*I hope to find an internet café in Cabo)
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