“Old God sure was in a good mood when he made this place.”
― Hunter S. Thompson, The Rum Diary
“It is good people who make good places.”
― Anna Sewell, Black Beauty
As always we’re behind on the blog. We often get so swept up by the magic of living that we forget to reflect on it. Weeks and months go by, and we lose track of time. But I love the moments when we finally sit down and remember. It roots us. Keeping this blog allows us to relive this magic and reminds us of the endless beauty we feel lucky to experience on our journey.
I’ll be honest here. We started this season feeling a little burnt out. Too many projects, expenses, and complications drained us in San Carlos, in more ways than one, and we left there with less joy we normally have when starting a passage. And this had nothing to do with San Carlos--San Carlos is uniquely beautiful--and everything to do with where we were mentally.
It felt almost wrong to admit we were struggling at the time. There's this [self-imposed] expectation that travelers should always be happy, and that identifying something as hard is somehow a failure. Or worse, an insult to everyone for whom a journey like this isn't accessible.
But this feeling didn't last. If our time in the boatyard was the burn out, Baja was the salve. Returning to our favorite places--for example, Bahia Concepcion, Punta Basilio, and Agua Verde--was like coming home. Its medicine kicked in immediately. Hiking among cactus and swimming in Baja’s clear water were the joys we won’t take for granted.
We sailed south this season, so this time we benefited from the intense northerlies that occasionally stalled us last season. Strong winds and seas allowed us to surf from anchorage to anchorage. And connecting with friends from Raven, Gemini, Talisman, Hoptoad, Palomita, Tino Pai, and other boats and locals with or without boats made this voyage south even better.
And La Paz! Everyone knows I love La Paz. Weaving through the marks at the entrance, I got a whiff of nostalgia: La Paz's unique blend of fresh passion flowers, roasting al pastor, and even Fabuloso laundry detergent. We would have stayed there longer but the growth on our anchor chain and our incessant wanderlust urged us on.
Sailing Baja in the winter means cultivating an intimate relationship with the elements. Our electrical usage is directly impacted by the amount of sun we receive. Our activities rely on the wind and waves much more than a schedule. El Clima becomes like a god, and we are happy to turn our wills over to this power.
And again, we weren't happy every minute. As the saying goes, the definition of cruising is doing boat projects in exotic places, and we had our share of them: macerator, outboard electric motor, seized anchor windlass, ripped spinnaker, macerator again, dinghy step, regular maintenance, and macerator yet again. We were pretty upset about the ongoing macerator issues. Those times were shitty (pun intended), and our bilge will forever soak in vinegar and elbow grease. But are we happy? Yes. For those stuck in project after project, it usually gets better.
At 2115 on December 17th, we said goodbye to Baja, raised our anchor at Bahia de Los Muertos, and set off for Mexico’s Pacific Mainland. We sailed on a broad reach for most of the passage, turning on the engine only when the wind died completely near the end. after a 41-hour sail, we arrived at Stone Island in Mazatlán on 1415 December 19th, excited for things to come. (Spoiler alert: It just keeps getting better and better.)
Our track since we last posted here:
Happy holidays, everyone. Thank you for reading our blog.
💚 Denise and Dave
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