Marina de La Paz
La Paz. Land of plenty. Land of rest. Land of many boaters. Land of a thousand coded helpful guidelines. The radio is a constant buzz of activity as people with goofy boat names hail other people with goofy boat names. We’re still waiting for ‘Scaramouche‘ to hail ‘Fandango‘. We hope for it, like, every day. We know they both exist here so it’s only a matter of time. There’s also a boat called “Oh My God“, which I get a kick out of whenever someone hails them (“Oh My God, Oh My God, Oh My God, this is Serenity, please come in!)
We’ve been here four or five days now, and here near the water La Paz feels like a vibrant social club, a summer camp for retirees of all ages. There’s morning yoga, dominoes, cribbage, darts, quilting clubs, open mic nights (never have I greater wished I had a mic-able talent), beach party bocce tournaments, swap meets, and who knows what else. The morning radio net advertises these activities bright and early at 8am every day like the voice of a happy Cruise Director on the PA system of a great modular Carnival ship.
We showed up just in time for the monthly swap meet. As luck would have it, there was an Achilles inflatable dinghy there. We picked it and a sea anchor up for a screaming deal, and the first boat project was to make a new transom plate for the Achilles so we can put our outboard motor on it. Not that we’ll be needing a dinghy for a while, seeing as we’re on the dock like a couple o’ rich folks.
We anchored out the first two nights in the bay, then jumped onto the dock for three days to get some work done, then promptly extended our stay for a month. We rationalize this by saying that we want the unlimited power and Internet so Harmony can do a little part time work. Really I think we were sick of hopping in the Porta-Bote every time we wanted to leave the house. The flesh is weak.
Plus, after four months of near solitude at sea, at least I have come down with a slight case of the Hermits (and Harmony too, I suspect, if you can believe it). When thus afflicted, I am much less prone to be a joiner. I have found that the best remedy for such a condition is Dock Therapy: plop yourself quietly in the center of activity and allow yourself to drift with the social currents that ebb and flow all around, up at the club, in the parking lot, the showers, and walking past on the docks. So far it seems to be working, and my prognosis is hopeful.
The first order of business was to shower. There was no higher priority. Between us, Harmony and I that first day probably spent a week’s worth of normal water allocation back home – that is to say, we took long showers. The pressure was high and the heat was hot. The grime of a month at sea slid down the drain as if by some new magic. If you need a reason to uproot your life, embark on an often grueling trip down the coast of North America, and make yourself actively poor, the shower at the end feels incredible. Thrill-seekers, take note.
Next was laundry. We gathered up nearly all of our clothes, bagged them up, and dropped them off with the ladies at the lavanderia near the marina with a mixture of gratitude and pity. We had six loads in all, once again fresh fresh, folded, and free of shame. What a feeling to put on a clean shirt – inarguably clean – and jeans.
Next comes the reprovisioning, the boat projects, the computer homework. And the decisions. Where do we go when we leave here? The plan in the sand is to be in El Salvador by June to while away the hurricane season, but there’s a whole lot of coast between here and there, not to mention the Sea of Cortez that’s in the opposite direction. There are also a few dozen supposedly awesome anchorages within a day’s sail of this very spot, which would be an awfully convenient way to get away from it all.
We’d like the next big journey to feel more like leisurely travel and less like we’re being chased by the Four Horsemen of the Weather. We’ve seen others around us accomplishing this feat, but from our vantage point it’s still somewhat of a Capital-F Foreign concept. So we have decisions to make. Oh, and fun! We have to make time for that this month too. Add it to the list.*
Look at these suckers out in the bay.
So this is it. We’re here. Where, exactly? The place we stop, until it’s time to go again. We’ve met people here who said they were only going to stop for a month too — over a year ago. This is the place we pushed down the coast to get to, the place we start, in a way. Why did we choose this particular place, La Paz? Looking back, I can’t actually remember. I remember that it was talked about a lot as the place that cruisers go, and we are cruisers right? I recall hearing that the weather is good and the water is warm. Right now it’s 50-something degrees with 30 knots of wind rubbing us against our fenders on the dock, and the water is probably back down into the sixties with all this weather, after having been close to 80 in Cabo around Christmas. I heard that it had a Home Depot, and supermarkets, and places to get the hard to get things. We definitely need some of those.
So far this place appears to be as good as any other, but then again we’ve only been here four days and our time has already been nearly as packed with activity as the last several weeks combined.
Thumbs up. Let’s do this.
*I tease. Don’t believe me. We’re having a ball.