A week out and back

Photo: pelican sunning on a bulbous bow, crazy bird!

The wily dorado:

En route from La Paz to Playa Bonanza, the winds were a steady 15 to 20 knots out of the north. We (Akimbo and i) were beating with the full main and jib, which was a little too much in the gusts but was glorious sailing. I held starboard tack a little extra to be sure i could lay for San Lorenzo channel and not have to tack again. Shortly after tacking, the rapid clicking of the reel announced a fish on. It was the second time that day. The first time whatever hit the lure got off the hook by the time i hove Akimbo to. But, sailing single handed, i have no other plan. I have to take care of the boat first, and the fishing next. So here we went again. Jib aback, helm “hard to lee” and Akimbo steady and stable slipping sideways at a knot and a half. Very comfy and controllable. As i pulled the rod back, and reeled up the slack, i was happy to find the fish still on this time and giving a good fight. With the sun high in the sky, i could see below the water’s surface a little and was thrilled to see the bright flash of a pretty big fish on the hook. Closer now, i saw a second flash, another fish chasing after it? Then the one on the hook leaped into the air and flailed. It was a dorado. And the other fish did not appear to be trying to eat it. I remembered someone saying that the dorado mate for life, or at least travel in pairs, or maybe i remember that incorrectly. But now i was distracted by the safety string that secures the pole to the boat getting tangled up with the reel. Damn! I couldn’t reel anymore in. Remembering the dorado that bit thru the line when Cody hooked one, i didn’t want to be too patient but i was stuck. As it turned out, Akimbo’s slow sideways progress kept tension on the line while i untangled and removed the string. Back to reeling in, which i did until the fish was only nine feet off now. The gaff was under the cockpit seat, out of reach. So i decided to try to pull the fish on deck by pulling the leader in by hand. I pulled, the fish landed on the swimstep, beautiful and days of good food! But it renewed its panic, snapped the fishing line (throwing the lure into the cockpit, thank you), fell back into the water and was gone. “Damn!” “Good fight. Good for you. Keep the hook. Next time.” In retrospect i should have let Akimbo keep the tension on the line again while i went and got the gaff, which now sits hooked on the stern pulpit within reach. I retied the lure on the line and put it back out but got no more bites.

I arrived at the anchorage at the north end of the beach, disappointed to find a boat anchored in the corner i had hoped for. But then they were probably disappointed to have to share the place. So i dropped anchor a little farther out and cooked up scallops and veggies on pasta in time to enjoy dinner at sunset. My plan for this week is to alternate days between sailing and staying at anchor. Playa Bonanza is a beautiful sand beach over two miles long. Maybe tomorrow i’ll get a long beach walk in.

I could write a rendition here of kayaked ashore, walked on the beach, collected Espiritu Santo jewels and trash, spent the day at anchor…but there’s more. Of course there’s more. You could write an account of any one of your days the same way. As a litany of what happened, but not how it happened, not what caught your eye, why it caught your eye, and the tho’ts that that particular gem prompted from you…

Playa de Bonanza is on the southeast corner of the island of Espiritu Santo. It took about four hours to walk its length and back. The give of the sand underfoot gave my calves a workout they are telling me about today. There were a few places where pocks left in the sand told of many feet. I wondered what had taken place there, and noticed an orange chaff in each divit. On closer inspection, the chaff looked like very very small shrimp. “Ah, krill,” i told myself. Thousands of krill. Hmm. I imagined fishermen pulling nets in here? And these were NOT what they were after, these were the detritus that shook off the nets and got left behind, a nuisance if anything. Later i noticed a brown line in the sand at the high mark of the waves before they receded with the tide, and again, upon closer inspection, krill. OK, make that millions, no trillions of krill. The color difference? Maybe the brown ones die in the water and wash up, while the orange ones die out on the beach in the sun.

As their presence seeped into my consciousness, what a wonder they became! If these creatures were any tinier they would be microscopic…invisible to the naked eye. And THEY are what draws the largest animals on the planet here? I can’t help but wonder what else i am not seeing in this sea that is absolutely teeming with life. Life that, in the visible realm, all seems to start with the krill. And in what other contexts, what other parallels, what else is invisible to me?

The next day i sailed for Bahia de los Muertos. On the way north in transit a month ago, we had anchored there at dusk and weighed anchor at dawn, ready to “arrive” at the end of our trip, at La Paz. My bet was that Muertos is another place deserving a closer look. The day started with 5 to 10 knots of wind out of the southwest. Taking my cues from the swell from the north and the forecast for 15 to 25 knots from the northwest, i left the main up and kicked on the engine. As i motored thru flat calm for a few hours, i was glad i hadn’t chased the dying wind by putting up the drifter, proud to have harbored my strength. When the wind finally started to fill as forecast, i unrolled the genoa and enjoyed a great downwind sail, touching over 8 knots at times.

Thru the day i remembered the krill, and my surface view of life. Twice porpoise launched themselves many feet out of the depths, depths beyond my sight. At the end of the day, on our last layline into the anchorage, backlit by the setting sun that we sailed into, clouds of vapor shot skyward from the water’s surface. When we departed this bay before, the sunrise had lighted whale flukes disappearing into the deep behind us. I had hoped the whales might be here again or still, and here they were! I checked the boat’s trim and my position on the chart before going to stand at the bow and watch what might be revealed. I could say, “revealed to me,” but that misses the point entirely. It would reveal itself, it was up to me to pay attention. As i looked up from the chart there was a BIG splash in the corner of my sight. Had i missed “it”…again? At the bow now, Akimbo taking symphonic care of herself at speed, i twice witnessed whales breaching far out of the water, as if to say, “just try to ignore this, keep paying attention, there is always more than you can see, really see.”

As i write these thoughts down, this is indeed a day to not sail. Gusts are over 30. It’s the kind of day that things break or someone gets hurt. So i went ashore for breakfast, walked the beach and continued chores on the boat. Hopefully tomorrow will favor heading back toward La Paz. The trouble with anchoring next to a windy beach is…sand. Grit accumulating everywhere it can, it feels like i’m anchored in the Sahara instead of the Sea of Cortez.

In isolation i find myself contemplating people dear to me. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder,” someone said. So here i am, “distant” and growing fonder of friends and family. I’m curious that i would put myself “out here” when i know my heart to hold them/you very dearly.

My thoughts lead me to Sharon Salzburg’s book “Faith.” I quite like her distinction between “belief” and “faith.” The former is something that one holds onto for all you are worth…and in turn, it holds onto you. The latter is something one doesn’t have to hold onto and that feels liberatiing. The former requires clear definition of what it includes and excludes. The latter is about accepting what cannot be clearly defined, and trusting what is felt. A belief is like looking at the sky...thru a straw: what one sees is true, but it's not the whole sky, and each of us has a different straw, believing the view thru our straw is correct and thru others is incorrect... At base, this voyage is an act of faith that i am where i need to be for now, that it leads me where i need to go.

I am in awe of each person to whom i feel so “close.” Maybe being in that awe, is being “in love.” And while i love the feel and intensity of it (is it the person i’m in love with or is it the feeling? – either way), while love may be sustenance itself, in-love is not sustainable. In love can only be a visitor. Okay, duh! But maybe it holds a lesson for me to learn to welcome hard feelings too, and to realize that they too are only visitors. Me too, huh? I am only a visitor here on this earth. I shake my head, which is appropriate. After all, what does one’s head have to do with love? It’s not a thinking thing.

I get word occasionally of what is happening in their lives and there is an ache in me to be there with them. Laughing and crying, and sharing the moments between the events, the precious “filler” disguised as less than the firmament from which our big moments are born. Clever disguise!

How can i love them so and not stay closer to them? Am i lying to myself? Do i not really “love them so?” What could be worth such distance between us? Distance that has to be a strain. How can i apparently abandon people i deeply love?! Yet here i am, far from them and looking back…and carrying them forward within me. There is something that i still don’t grok about it, something that straddles beyond dimensions.

I remember when Tyler was quite small we would play “catch me if you can.” And eventually i would find his arms wrapped around my leg, or his hands gripping my wrist or ankle, at which he would victoriously announce, “gotch ya!” To which i would use my uncle’s reply, “no, i’ve got you.” His expression would become perplexed, i would continue, “See, i’ve got you. My ankle has got you by the hands. You can’t get away.” Of course he would let go, and the game would continue.

So here i am, wrapping my heart around theirs/yours, and then letting go. And hoping beyond hoping that our hearts remain in touch even so. Simply, dearly in touch.

I got up at 6 a.m. to get ready for sailing against what was forecast to be big winds and seas. Starting out at 7, we sailed upwind with full main and jib. About mid-morning, after i had enjoyed a good cup of coffee, the wind started to fill and i recognized that this was it – time to triple reef the main, doublecheck things lashed on deck and stowed below, and “go to work.” It feels rewarding to know the local weather a little better, and to listen to the wind’s cues.

It WAS indeed a long hard upwind sail. I had to put up the lee cloth below just to keep the cushions on their settee. I hunkered down behind the dodger (the railing and canvas that shelters the entrance into the boat – that entrance is called the companionway), sat in the companionway seat with the autopilot remote control in hand, and watched Akimbo perform beautifully. Bumping the autopilot up or down 5 degrees with the wind shifts and sailing at times over 7 knots (SOG = “speed over ground”) upwind! After a bit i started to feel sea-sick, so i used one of the scopolamine transderms, and we thrashed our way north.

So i had a full day of watching our progress and admitting that tho sailing sounds romantic it really isn’t. It can be downright uncomfortable. It’s simply a way to travel that makes us pay attention to the trip instead of the destination. And coming from rough weather can give us real appreciation for smooth sailing. Maybe that makes sailing a philosophic tool you can bodily use. Of course it offers lots of metaphors for life too.

When we sailed thru San Lorenzo channel and under the lee of Espiritu Santo, i had that renewed appreciation for calmer sailing. Also i had time to drop a fishing line in the water, and a few minutes later bring dinner aboard, a cierra. “Thank you fish.”

Anchoring here is unlike anchoring in the northwest where we have many anchorages that are protected from winds from all directions. In the Sea of Cortez, it seems all anchorages are wide open and exposed in some direction. Bahia San Gabriel was perfect protection from the continuing norther last night, and allowed me a good night’s sleep. And i have it all to myself today, which feels like some kind of magic.