Hasta luego, Mexico

Like Steinbeck, “i love countries and hate governments.” Mexico has been good to me over the last nine months. Like any place, it has its average scenery and people, and its beauties are stunning to behold. Some generalizations – i’ve been surprised by the obviously large investment taking place in the country’s infrastructure. Mexico is not poor. Construction is going on big time all over the place.

But it has also been common to see any number of private projects abandoned, even near completion. Like they suddenly exceeded their building permit? Or realized too late that they were bad ideas after all? Each public facility (i.e. the marinas) had its own definition of “finished,” none of which i would think truly were. They were functional, but not really finished, detailed. By the way, can anyone tell me what part tiled domes play in the architecture of well to do Mexican homes? They are a definite presence.

I can guess the role of the stickers on the car - fun.

Other observations include many Mexican women for whom tight jeans are a distinct fashion mistake. Oh well. It’s obvious that this population, per Catholic mandate, is growing. There’s a lot of pregnancy in Mexico. So there are lots of kids, As Barbara Kingsolver describes in other countries, most Mexicans treasure the kids – their own and others’ – above all else. And the kids know it. Beautiful to see. “Family” is Mexico’s founding social structure. If a town doesn’t have a boardwalk (malecon), then the town square is the hotspot to gather – nightly, it seems.

Huatulco seems youngish to me, tho ancient civilization has been here too. The state of Oaxaca is known for its weavers – i bought a pair of pants and shirt from this store/factory where they still wove on looms by hand.

(About the “we” – sailors have forever tho’t of their vessels as near alive as an inanimate creation can be. They usually refer to a boat as ‘she’ instead of ‘it.’ A modern sailboat has a sort of lineage back thru history, she seems a hallowed part of exploring distant horizons. It feels like i honor Akimbo’s essential role in this trip when i include her in my reference.)

Okay, assuming the giants appear to still sleep according to tomorrow’s weather report, we’ll depart for Costa Rica and i’ll write to you from there in seven to ten days. May we celebrate when next we meet.

Back out there

I already regret a little that we bypassed Acapulco with her cliff divers and bull fighting ring. But fear based decisions usually lead to regret. Fear? The guidebooks and everyone i bump into on and around the docks and at anchor warn against or shake their heads when i tell them i am continuing south. Into hurricane territory. But i see no way around it, only thru it, and the giants seem to be sleeping for the moment. So i mean to take advantage of their slumber and scamper south of them. After the delay in Ixtapa, i am even later than the plan everyone shook their heads at! Thus we skipped past Acapulco. I’ve learned from experience (and from Tyler’s Morocco story) that we jump to fear too easily. Let fear serve as a counter-balance to recklessness, but it’s not a good fulcrum. A truth is that i cannot see everything, and Costa Rica will have too many sights as well.

About hot weather: I’ve gotten used to being bathed in sweat at the smallest expenditure of effort. So i keep a washcloth or small towel nearby to mop myself off rather than leave puddles everywhere i go. Twice a day or more i take a cold shower. If i keep air moving over the bed with a fan at night i don’t soak the sheets. The compressor for the fridge and freezer will also chill each stateroom with air conditioning, but i am saving that as a last resort or occasional treat. Hydrating has taken on new dimension here, inside and out.

Was testing systems in prep for departing Ixtapa. It was a bit of a wrestle to get the generator going again but it’s hummin’ now. Now that i have the fridge/freezer back on line, Akimbo’s electrical needs have increased – and it appears the inverter isn’t picking up the shorepower to recharge the batteries? Hmm. I’ll troubleshoot it when i’m tied up to a dock, it’s irrelevant underway. As many chores as i’ve been doing, everything should be more ready than ever. Now that we’re underway, there hasn’t been much wind at all. I’ve even lowered my “sanity barrier” to two knots minimum sailing speed, still three quarters of the time we’ve been motoring – ugh. The stop button doesn’t work on the engine, of a sudden. So i’ve rigged a string to the stop solenoid to stop the engine manually. “The list” never ends.

Our first night out i must have used something gone bad in the dinner i cooked up. I hate to waste food, even when it’s older. But i spent most of the next day sick. Weak, dizzy, achy, etc… Drank a lot of water and waited for it to pass (pun!). Modest meals and more rest, i’m back to feelin’ fine the next day. Between motoring and attempts to sail, what to do with this calm sea? Shed my clothes and dive in!

There was a smallish whale that accompanied us late the second day out, quite close by, for about half an hour! (look for his/her back in the upper part of the photo that looks like it’s of water only). Our other companions are sea turtles and porpoise - launching themselves high on occasion (the porpoise, not the turtles – hard to tell in the photo). When daylight comes on, i often find a small squid or flying fish that landed on deck in the night and breathed its last. It seems too that there is more junk floatin’ by – plastic bottles, etc…

This stretch of the Mexican coast faces south. It looks very appealing, lots of beaches tucked in here and there tho they are pretty exposed. We ran over some sort of fishing line or net on a long string of floats. Somehow it didn’t catch on Akimbo’s rudder or propellor and floated free aft of us, stealing only my fishing lure. Over the rest of the day we dodged the next six or so such nets. They seem to run offshore as much as seven miles, so if you were staying ten miles off you should miss them with some margin.

75 hours after departing Ixtapa, we motored in to Marina Chahue. I hope to rest up, poke around, get our exit papers, fill fuel and get ready for crossing the infamous Gulf of Tehuantepec. Given its reputation, I drug the storm jib up to the top of the sail locker. I’m hoping i can stow the kayak inside to clear the decks – if i nest the bow of it onto the forward berth and fashion a sling to support where it passes thru the doorway, six and a half feet of it will protrude into the salon. I’ll have to crawl under it to go forward but hopefully won’t need to do much of that. Shall see.

As a cruiser i don’t tend to hang out in one place for long. And i use the motor more than i intend to. I guess i am too goal oriented. But i’ve found the same thing in climbing, hiking, skiing and bicycling – the speed of any endeavor decreases as the number of people in it increases. Traveling alone i don’t have to ask someone else what they want to do, where they want to go, etc…(which i am happy to do when company comes). That makes my own pace easy to find with little risk of mutiny or even grumbling. What a luxury! But there’s no one to turn to either and say, “look at that!” Am i getting my fill of alone, or am i getting used to it? It makes this adventure different from what i long ago dreamed it would be. While i deeply appreciate being able to manifest this trip, from that difference i begin to realize i will be done with this chapter sooner instead of later, tho i don’t know when. I wonder when i look back upon it what i will see. What do i want to see? How can i make it so?

In its way this trip is an extreme. Also in its way, falling in love, marrying, raising a son, buying a house, creating a home, supporting a family, having a career, becoming part of a community…step by step can also be an extreme, even if it is a cultural norm. I’ve traveled them both now. I’m free to not wonder about them. Free to live somewhere between them. So, what will i do instead? When neither commands my energy, will i feel extra energy? Where will i direct it? I hope to some kind of service. What could that be?

Dimension:
In a music appreciation class long ago, i remember a professor drawing a triangle on the blackboard. He gave each point of the triangle a name. “Composer.” “Performer/s.” “Audience.” He was saying something to the effect that each needed the other two. That there was no hope of creating or achieving a work of art without all three. I don’t know if i agree. But i think of those three points without lines between them. I imagine one of those points to be me. A single dimension. I imagine one of those points to be the earth and the life upon it which i witness. So i draw a line between these two points. Okay, we’ve moved into two dimensions now. That’s about the limit my experience can reach alone. Now, imagine the third point to be you. A witness with whom this experience can become shared. Without actually being here, and as friends more than as intimates, let’s imagine these dear added lines to be dashed (rather than solid and more than dotted). Voila! We have this “creative triangle” again. Still this wonder takes place in only two dimensions. Each point, the lines and the flat page itself that they are upon to be revered and appreciated. But now add a fourth point in mid-air above the triangle, creating an experience of three dimensions. Whoa! What would you name that fourth point?

Part of the adventure too

I should know better than to become frustrated…it’s just another version of “poor me.” I can look at this as having been ‘stuck’ waiting for parts (which are here at last! Yahoo!), or i can see it as the spontaneous part of this adventure (like where the wind comes from) and enjoy a new place and people. “Zihuatanejo.” “Ixtapa.” What exotic names! But really each is “just” another place, they’re just names. We may “connect” with a place, but more we connect with people. That takes more than a few days. I’ve had a few weeks.

Many boats here have got caretakers who come chamois off the rain, wax and polish, etc… EVERY day (then there are other boats that have been abandoned to their slip for who knows how long, thick with mold, docking lines nearly chafed thru, fenders flat…please may i never do that to Akimbo). Hector is the caretaker for the boat across the dock from us: a 45ish SeaRay that is 9 years old but looks like new. Being neighbors, we’ve struck up an acquaintance. I like that he barely speaks English and so helps me with my Spanish. He introduced me to a local specialty when we went to Zihua for lunch: tiritas – a raw white fish with rice and red onion that one can spice to taste, eaten with tortilla chips used like spoons. Yum!

Other people include Tomas, Gregorio, and Alejandro - waiters at a restaurant where i usually get my internet access (and watched the world cup). And Oscar, the owner of the restaurant. Elsa, Erika, and Rosilla in the marina office have been patient and helpful. Bernie, one of the dockhands, always says hi. Israel is another dockhand, small guy with a big swagger, drives the panga out to the channel when i want to sound it with a lead line. There is the lady who keeps the bathrooms and showers clean, i’ve forgotten her name now. Orlando is a captain for the yachts a big hotel owns. These have become ‘my’ local community while i am here. From what i have shared with them, they tell me that i found the best bakery in town. But of course!


Random thoughts: I took the bicycle path thru a nature preserve and discovered the locals’ beach (Playa Linda) – not the gringo beach by the big hotels. That was fun. On the gringo beach you can lay on a massage table under a canopy and get an hour rub for $20. Might have to try that out. It’s curious to me that even laughter comes with an accent. I heard a woman laugh and knew that when she spoke i would hear an American. Sure enuf.

I’ve been writing some, and reading more. Some really very good books – “Night Train to Lisbon” by Pascal Mercier (incredibly crafted) and “Bel Canto” by Ann Patchett (she writes so perfectly simply…or simply perfectly). These things take me almost out of my body. I feel the world around me as if it is less real than the stories. I forget to eat. Stepping away from reading or writing and back into my surroundings is like stepping out of a theatre after a movie. I have to blink a few times, take a deep breath and re-orient. Where am i? (could be anywhere) Who am i? (could be anyone) What time is it? What year is this? Sometimes reality rushes back in with an impact. Sometimes it slips its fingers gently back between mine and we walk. This time? It will probably soak me when i get back out in it.

Night before last a big storm came thru. Not having seen one for a while, i am duly humbled. Maybe i feel especially vulnerable after weathering a wave of homesickness when my package “from home” arrived. The port captain has closed the harbors until things calm down. No boats in or out yesterday and today. This is why i planned to get out of here two weeks ago…but the fridge broke down. Weather windows may be harder to find now. So be it. Sure, the package took too long to get here, but it was MY decision to wait for it. Now i’m trying to get the mechanic here. A piano teacher once said, “It doesn’t matter what note you play so much as what note you play next.” Sounds like a good metaphor to me. What’s done is done, it’s history. Whether being so stubborn about this repair was a wrong note depends on what decisions i make next. Sailing safely is my moving target. I’ll be relieved when we get to Costa Rica. But first, Huatulco for our exit papers. I’ll treat Acapulco as an option – sail past if the sailing is going smoothly, or pull in if i need to regroup.

Note to self: NEVER USE DHL FOR SHIPPING!

To me, it’s worth its own entry, and repeating – NEVER use DHL for shipping. For $113 they’ve done as little as possible for me. Heck with getting the parts to me fast, i’m hoping i’ll get them at all. They got hung up at customs because there was a liquid in them. Why didn’t DHL in Seattle warn about that? The compressor oil is very specific. I didn’t think i could get it here. To get clearly past the language barrier, i had the marina manager describe this oil to the fridge mechanic. Trusting he is indeed familiar with it and can get it even under another name, i conceded the oil. On Friday. Did they then ship the rest to me? No, Monday or Tuesday they’ll get it out from Mexico City. Still not sure when it will get here. Meantime the marina bill here goes up, and the clock ticks on the weather windows… Plus the marina has warned about the channel depth and the upcoming tides. I'll sound it with a leadline again before we try to leave. So i catch up with more chores on the boat, i enjoy world cup soccer, and walks on the beach. I don't mean to complain, but i do mean to steer as much business away from them as i can.

Waitin' for parts...

True to the cold they are supposed to produce, the fridge parts are getting here at glacial speed. May it be an omen for the repair and their performance. What with the 4th of July holiday in the U.S., they could have arrived here three days earlier if they got out on Friday… And watching the weather, this would have been a good window to go south. What to do, except “be here now,” get to know the people and place better, and see more of the world cup? This is the first time on this voyage that i’ve been delayed by a mechanical problem – i get the feeling i should feel lucky for that. And hope it may be the last.

Photos here are from the anchorage at Las Hadas – stopped and explored Manzanillo a few days there on the way here (did i mention that?), photos of Ixtapa’s version of the Space Needle, one of the crocs here (no cleaning the boat bottom!) , Zihuatanejo’s anchorage, and a local fisher…boy on Zihuat’s pier (if he hooked a big one it might pull him in! Note the catch in the bucket in the background). Somehow i imagine Jacqui and Tony on Wind Strutter taking this place by storm, fitting right in. Seems right up their alley.

I’ve been reading Steinbeck’s “Travels with Charley.” In 1960 he took a trip with his dog around the U.S. in a truck with camper on its back. I am finding his amusement at his adventure great fun. One observation he made went something like this: if a person is in a situation where he/she needs no words, after a while does it lead to no thoughts? Get it? The way we think is with words, if there are no words are there no thoughts? Is it a symbiotic relationship? With no one to talk to, i can sometimes go days without speaking. Sure, i have to think about navigating and sailing Akimbo. But otherwise my tho’ts might indeed dull. Doing so seems it would lead to dulling my senses and observations as well. Which i don’t want to happen. So what can i do about this, if it is the case? I read as much as i can, but those words are not my own. Rather they are something i experience. I can write. To spur the thoughts, the words can be written instead of spoken. This makes these entries, and our e-mail correspondence, hugely more important to me. If anything, i want to sharpen, not dull, my presence.

On Jerry’s last full day here (Tuesday), I got one of the marina employees, Israel, to take us out the marina channel while i sounded it with a lead line. I now know exactly where the shallow spot in the channel is, and that my depth sounder has to read more than 16’ deep here at the slip for us to leave. Two things were reassuring about this reconnaissance: 1. The shallow spot is well inside where the waves are big, it’s in a relatively calm spot – so i wouldn’t expect to pound hard there if we did touch bottom; 2. I was doing the sounding next to the marina’s dredge – so maybe the shallow spot will be deeper by the time we leave. One not so reassuring thing: the channel has been closed for the last two days due to the size of the swell coming in. Hopefully the motion of the ocean is getting the big stuff out of its system for now. What was cute was how thrilled Jerry was to be underway on the water – even in only the beat up old marina panga, even for only the few hundred yards, and even only inside the marina. I’m sorry i wasn’t willing to risk the channel and take him for a sail as i had hoped.


While here i’ve been watching my weather sources intently, trying to learn from them what a good weather window will look like when we’re ready to go. Now that hurricane’s Celia and Darby on the Pacific have evaporated, and Alex on the Gulf of Mexico has exhausted itself on shore…this looks like it would have been a good week. With luck the storm production has calmed a little. In any case there will be another window. Until then i’ll keep “going to school” on what i see. If you want to watch too, here are two links - http://www.weather.solmatesantiago.com/hurricane.html and http://www.weather.solmatesantiago.com/convection.html . I also request grib files from query@saildocs.com - in the subject line write “gribforecast” and in the body of the e-mail write this and ONLY this – “send grib:8N,20N,80W,107W” – note there is only one space in that. On top of these three sources i listen to the radio nets i can reach for their daily forecasts (i can usually reach one, sometimes two).

Sorry if this entry is a bit boring but maybe the words keep my tho’ts and therefore my senses going and inquiring. I’ll finish by quoting Steinbeck – “In the beginning of this record i tried to explore the nature of journeys, how they are things in themselves, each one an individual and no two alike. I speculated with a kind of wonder on the strength of the individuality of journeys and stopped on the postulate that people don’t take trips – trips take people. That discussion, however, did not go into the life span of journeys. This seems to be variable and unpredictable. Who has not known a journey to be over and dead before the traveler returns? The reverse is also true: many a trip continues long after movement in time and space have ceased…”

It gives me pause to consider this trip. And our journeys, all of us, each his or hers. May we breathe life into them to their ends. And beyond (thank you Steinbeck, Gershwin, O'Keefe, Shakespeare, Bach, Dylan, Whyte…). And when we “return” may it be to open arms and hearts.

Sweatin' it out in Ixtapa

The overnighter from Manzanillo to here was uneventful. I like that. Our companions were porpoise, sea turtles and flying fish. I motored a bit more than i wanted to because hurricane Darby is stalled off the coast and forecast to turn back east and come in. But we got some lovely afternoon sails in, under the drifter and with some swell. Really delightful. Capped off by surfing in thru the entrance to the harbor. Drawing over 6’ (that’s nautical talk for how deep into the water Akimbo’s keel sticks down), the marina advised me that they would have a skiff waiting to guide me in, but if i decided to enter i was doing so at my own risk. Akimbo draws 6.5’.

But what choice did i have? I was tired after sailing all night. I needed good rest. And this storm was forecast to come back to the coast near here. Anchoring out in Bahia Zihuatanejo didn’t feel like an option compared to riding the storm out secured to a sheltered dock. Taking how tired i was into account, i double checked my reasoning. No, i really did feel i needed to get into this harbor. Our timing turned out to be near a high tide. Sails were down, Stuff was secured pretty well. So i went for it.
I watched a powerboat pound his way out. A lot of vertical action. The marina skiff waited for us well inside the surf, which wasn’t quite breaking. We lined up from just outside the two entrance buoys and i gunned the engine higher than ever before. We built up momentum, a wave started to pick us up, and we went surfing in on water and adrenaline. I kept watching the sounder and seeing the bottom come up. If we hit the sand bottom Akimbo would stumble in the narrow entrance and likely broach to one side or the other. The trick would then be to throttle back before ramming into a breakwater, turn her back in line with the channel and power up for the next lift in. We were comin’ in fast it, it would hurt if we came to a stop, but the depth stopped shallowing at 7.5’. We had a foot to spare. Only a foot.

How much did that wave lift us? Goin’ out we’ll pound up and down more. We won’t be goin’ so fast, it won’t be so dangerous in that way. The timing of our exit will be determined strictly by the height of the tide.

Now that we’re here, i’ve caught up on sleep and chores. During the night’s sail the radar repeater at the helm wouldn’t power up. So to check the radar i had to come below to the nav station each time. Haven’t figured out how to fix it yet. And this morning when i pulled out my folding bike to go explore Ixtapa, and maybe peddle to Zihuatanejo, the canvas bag i keep it in had an oily stain on it. Looking closer, the shelf the fridge compressor sits on was covered in oil. The compressor is leaking. Damn. It comes with the territory tho: “cruising = working on your boat in exotic destinations.” It’s Sunday, so no one to call today, but tomorrow i hope to get a technician on board and get a lesson.

Jerry will get here tonight, and surveying Akimbo tomorrow too for a new insurance company. I’m afraid the heat will be a shock to him. Sweat goes with everything here iat the end of June. I stick to everything, which kind of discourages some things. Like playing the guitar. And now – i keep a napkin on the laptop where my wrists rest while i type.

After Jerry flies out…i will be in new territory: sailing with no rendezvous or other event on my calendar. What will that feel like? On the outside, it will be good from the standpoint that no schedule leaves me free to wait for a weather window to cross “hurricane alley.” On the inside, it seems to offer a new potential or perspective. Went ahead for a nice (and hot and sweaty) bike ride around town. This seems another nice place. In this heat, the bus fare to get to Zihuat seems the way to go. A deal at twice the price. Stopped by a bar and caught most of a world cup soccer game – go Argentina (since Arturo is a dear friend and from there)!

One sweet thing last night was dining in a restaurant where i could use their internet access and skype calling my family. Whatever we spoke about didn’t matter at all. I was amazed at the affect simply hearing each others’ voices had on me. I went from being kind of lonely and alone to feeling in good rich company regardless of the geographic distance between us. Wow. Thank you.

Back aboard Akimbo

After a long day and a half of no sleep and travel, i’m back. On the way from the airport, i had the cab stop at a grocery store so i could re-provision. Then spent quite some time unpacking. I have vowed to never pack so heavily again. Can’t believe all the books i brought back. Don’t know where i am going to put them. Have to get rid of some. Next time…i’m getting a Kimble.
By the way, while in Seattle i tried to find what to do with a play i’ve written. Yes, i’ve written a play. It’s about our battle with cancer. Something it seems i had to get out of me and onto the page before writing something else. It wasn’t so much writing as working from the Brainews e-mails i sent out at the time and quoting some of you. In most cases, i didn’t change peoples’ names – let me know if that’s not okay with you. Anyway, i sent it to Tom Brophy at Seattle Cold Readers (you can google them) and they are willing to give an excerpt a reading to a small audience. Probably the third Thursday of Sept. Of course i am thrilled that they think it’s worth a shot and their feedback. If any of you want to see it, assuming attendance is open, look them up.


Wow, it’s gotten hotter here. It was 90 inside the boat when i went to bed – no need for covers or clothes. And if i can believe Akimbo’s water thermometer, the water in the harbor here is 92. I’ll confirm that later when i try my new compressor dive system and clean the bottom of the boat. Last night a thunderstorm came thru at about 2 a.m. Beautiful. I watch the images on the hurricane site showing the convection activity, and it is much busier than it was a month ago. There’s a cyclone out there that should move off in the next few days. Hopefully that times out with my finishing my prep on Akimbo and shoving off.

Thank you all for such a wonderful visit in Seattle. I realize now that i was darn tired when i got there (someone suggested i take a break more often). And now i feel well rested and loved. It impresses me how important you are to me. Please stay in touch. I’ll always write back.

I’ve been wanting to share photos of this place with you, but had ruined the old camera. So here are some pics via the new camera. Okay, that’s all for now. Hasta luego.