The four outfit fashion show

This post is largely for the benefit of my mother, who politely, routinely, and persistently has requested that Harmony and I post more photos of ourselves on this trip. Sit back, fellow traveler, and scroll with idle curiosity . . .

Trying to look hip at an amateur painting night in a bar in San Francisco. Think Karaoke with acrylics. Via the Wayback Machine: putting on the last touches in Ilwaco. Michael visited Berkeley while we were ensconced there. I’m not sure why we looked so unimpressed. Angel Island, near San Francisco. Harmony sent me this picture when I asked for good people shots of the both of us this morning. She must have included this one because it shows her clearly Bringing It. Harmony displaying her damp backside after our first surf landing in the inflatable two-person kayak pool toy that we bought in the Cabo Walmart to replace our first dinghy, The Ambassador, lost at sea. I would like to say that our surf landings got better. I would like to be able to say that. “Strike a pose Harmony!” “What?” “Show me them gams!” The beach between Los Frailes and Cabo Pulmo, before Harmony’s first snorkeling experience. “Oh my God this is the coolest thing ever!” “It’s even better when you dive!” “Maybe some other time!” Taking a long walk on a dirt road in Frailes, on the way to the beach to get naked and play in the big surf. Note 1: My hat no longer fits over my hair. Note 2: Our bottoms were completely exfoliated that afternoon. The beginning of our tans. Sometimes you just have to build a sand turtle thing. The skipjack that the boat caught. Tack and I playing hide and seek. I’m way better at it than him. Bahia de los Muertos, at what appeared to be an abandoned luxury resort. We later discovered that they were only in between groups, but that didn’t stop us from feeling like we’d had the run of a forgotten kingdom. The sole purpose of this area is to collect guests’ credit card information. No joke. Harmony rowing us back home at Muertos. She often insists on manning the oars, and what kind of husband would I be to do anything but graciously support her wishes? It was Experiment With Hairstyles Day. After this we rose a barn. One of the few photos of us. Proof that we are still in fact together and on the same trip. This was at the start of our first Veleros de Baja race on our friend Greg’s boat, Scout. We had so much fun that we stayed around a couple extra days in La Paz so we could go again a month later. The cat is a better fashion model than us. Here he is sporting his “Tabby Wear”. This is where he spends his time when the engine is running now that we’ve got it purring like his mama. We replaced the transmission coupling and realigned the engine, which was about 1/2″ out of whack. The normal tolerance for misalignment is 0.005″. I wonder why our transmission fell off? Six months since last haircut, after a good brushing. Harmony showcasing her Northwest Wetsuit, right before jumping in to swim with the sea lions off Caleta Partida. My Dad offered us spare wetsuits before we left Oregon, but we declined reasoning that it’s Mexico, afterall, and the ocean would feel like bath water. We are some idiots. Harmony once again rowing us home after a day at the beach in Isla San Francisco. This was in the middle of a 7-day wind storm, top speed clocked at 40+ knots in the anchorage. While Harmony rowed, I helpfully kept rhythm and provided vocal encouragement. “Fishing” Looking for fish with my new Hawaiian Sling spear. The seagull I displaced from this rock resented all this immigrant coming in and taking his job. “I hope the boats across the bay don’t have their binoculars out.” They probably did. This is where Tack spends the majority of his time now when we’re under sail. You can see his excitement to travel to new and distant lands. I have so many pictures of Harmony looking contemplatively out on the horizon with her camera in her hand, you would not even believe. I don’t know what I was pointing at, but I’m sure that it was important. Underway between San Evaristo and Los Gatos. While Harmony took photos, I brainstormed choreography incorporating the jib and shrouds. One of these days . . . Turtle shell at Los Gatos. Los Gatos. Harmony: “You never smile with your teeth anymore.” Topolobampo, on our way to Los Mochis to catch the train for an 8-hour ride into the Copper Canyon (three-times the size of the Grand Canyon – who knew?). Harmony asked to carry our one hiking pack with all of our stuff. This once again demonstrates my commitment as a supportive husband. On the train to Posada Barrancas. Harmony has way better pictures than me. Pausing on the indigenous people’s foot trails to snap a shot of the canyon. Harmony has way better pictures of the canyon than I do. Stopping during a horseback ride on Harmony’s birthday to appreciate the panorama. Every time Harmony’s horse would try to take the lead, my horse would snort and cut him off like this was an LA freeway. Suspended over the canyon at Divisadero. This was the “safe” suspension bridge.

Eat your hearts out, gentlemen.

What’s this picture doing here? This is from Trinidad in northern California back in October. So many layers!

While waiting out a blow in Agua Verde, Harmony got it in her head that we should hike the 10 miles to San Cosme and camp beside the hot springs there. Of note: 1) the hot spring consists of one pool that is only accessible (or even present) at low tide; 2) after ten miles of walking in blistering heat literally up STEEP MOUNTAIN PASSES, one little hot spring pool feels amazing; 3) Harmony once again begged me to let her carry the pack because she missed backpacking so much; 4) Harmony misses backpacking a little less now.