The (mis)adventures of two dreamers that do
For most of January we were in the beautiful city of La Paz, which means that we are easily lured by shiny things, tacos, and draught beer…mostly tacos and beer. Hence the entertainment budget. The $4.00 beers in Ensenada de los Muertos didn’t help much (but cold beer tasted soooo good).
I’m gonna cut right to the chase and tell you that our temporary fix to our transmission problem didn’t hold. When we tested the engine earlier in the day on our intended departure date the coupling wiggled off of the output shaft after several minutes. Jeff was able to put it back together again and improve upon his improvised lock nut tool to get more torque, but neither of us trusted that it was a totally permanent fix. There was really only one option available to us…sail back to La Paz.
It turns out that Jeff loves fishing. This is good news for me, since it means dinner on the table. It also means that I get our cozy cabin to myself for hours at a time while he contemplates the universe, hook dangling, leaning up against our backstay, rain or shine, sometimes pulling in an edible creature (if Neptune is feeling generous).
At Ensenada Grande on Isla Partida Jeff went snorkeling with our new friends Max and Brad from SV Into the Mystic while I put Serenity back to right, thinking that our boat was good and fixed and that everything would stay put and stay clean, gosh darnit! Jeff came back shivering cold, the majority of fingers on his left hand, all but his pinky, white as a ghost that had just seen a ghost. He regaled me with stories of fish, many fish, big fish, colorful fish, edible fish, inhabiting deep cracks and crevices that have been worn away by water, salt and fresh.
Jeff and I were en route to Los Islotes for some quality time swimming with the seals. I’m actually somewhat terrified of swimming with seals for totally irrational reasons, but I won’t always have prime opportunities to face down my illogical fears. That’s an aside.
Within earshot of the barking seals, 0.5 miles to be precise, Jeff and I both heard a kerplunk. It’s almost like a comedy routine aboard our boat, except for the fact that it’s not funny: 1) we look at each other simultaneously perplexed, worried and pissed off, 2) Jeff bolts down the stairs into the cabin and tears them away (well, more like awkwardly lifts and moves them out of the way) to reveal our engine, 3) Jeff squats and inspects the engine to see what might be amiss, 4) having detected something amiss he yells at me to “kill it,” which I do, 5) my heart sinks a little.
With darkness in quick pursuit we approached Bahia Candelero on Isla Espiritu Santo and noticed a cluster of anchor lights. Hoping for a more secluded anchorage we hugged the shoreline and peeked into nearby Bahia Mezteno. Empty. Nothing but dark canyon walls and calm, inviting water. Perfect. For the past several anchorages (Bahia Frailes, Bahia de Los Muertos, Ensenada de La Paz and now, Mezteno) we have arrived in the dark, with only images from charts and guidebooks of our new, momentary home.
It has been a very long time since we last saw our spinnaker. It has been years, at least two…maybe three. Enough years that neither Jeff nor I really remember the last time. The very first time we let her fly was an unforgettable experience, the type of experience that can leave a psychological scar for beginners and compel them to leave their spinnaker hidden away in the quarter berth for years on end.
It happened something like this.
Jeff stumbled upon a podcast featuring a former owner of our sailboat. He works at the Center for Wooden Boats in Seattle, WA and is dedicated to experiential maritime education. This is a most excellent interview with Tyson about his life and his work.
We both loved hearing more about his passion for all things education and boat-related. He’s a really inspirational guy.
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