The Wet Edge: The kindness of strangers

Los Candeleros turned out to be an excellent stop for us.
We had been very much off the grid and on our own and enjoying every minute of it, although now, three and a half weeks out and low on supplies, we were also badly needing an internet signal to check in with matters from home. We had heard from another boat in Agua verde rumors of a hotel with Wifi around the bend and there was also, reputedly, a pool and a bar. Little and big kids aboard Pura Vida agreed we were all ready for a day or two of chlorine and "something cold to drink". Hard as it was to leave the fish filled waters of Agua Verde, we weighed anchor and puttered on up the coast.
We navigated ( well, captain did) the shallow, reef-strewn passage to Candeleros and as we came around the bend into the bay, to our amazement, a giant 6 story Hotel loomed up out of the desolate nothingness of the desert. Normally, this sort of mega-swank resort would strike me as a defilement in these pristine surroundings- but after a month with nothing but water and lime juice in our glasses, I would have gladly sat on a barstool made of albino elephant tusks as long as they were pouring tequila.
We anchored and did our best to gussy up a bit and flatten our salt-dreaded hair into something resembling normal and dingied ashore. The kids were in the pool in ten seconds flat and Jon and I toasted our sobriety with icy cold cervesas and ordered fresh guacamole as we downloaded the 1,456 emails that awaited us... 1,446 of them turned out to be from a Christian singles dating service that had somehow spammed us.
We met other cruisers at the bar-easy to spot as we all have matching hairdos and sticky clothes-and swapped stories, while Hunter belted out Adele songs on the Karaoke machine dressed in her bikini and a pair of Elton John-sized sunglasses. A very cute young couple, clearly guests of the hotel-not at all sticky-were gamely singing along and encouraging Hunter. Turns out they also were rom Vancouver. In fact, Steve, the husband had even lived on Bowen on our friend Frank's boat for six months. No one was suffering much that night at the bar and friends were made easily and we invited Steve and Lauren aboard pura Vida the next day for a sail. We were out of supplies and unable to accomadate feeding guests, so Steve gamely offered to drive to Loreto and bring back provisions and libations and cook dinner for all aboard. I had bought some fresh scallops off a local panga fisherman who had knocked on our hull that morning-ten dollars, a used UCLA sweatshirt and a can of green beans got me twenty huge scallops-so that would be the extent of our contribution, the rest Steve and Lauren provided. There was beer and tequila and Steve seared scallops in bacon and served them with charred corn and avocado and he grilled a flank steak and made fresh beet salad with vinagrette and we all sat on deck enjoying dinner and drinks. A very strong corumel had kicked up preventing us from taking them on an evening cruise, so we sat around laughing at Hunter and Kai trying to launch themselves off the foredeck by holdng a very large flag between them in the howling wind.
The next night, at the same bar, we met two other couples, also staying at the hotel, who were on their way back to California. Once again, Hunter entertained the crowd, this time with her newly aquired salsa-dancing skills, while Kai regaled everyone with fish tales. The two guys were very SERIOUS about fishing, having just finished up a two week adventure in the Baja and the more Kai talked the more they started smiling about something. I don't know what they were mixing in the drinks at the bar but once again... we were lucky recipients of the kindness of strangers as these guys bequeathed Kai and Jon ALL of their fishing lures. It was an impressive cache. Hand tied flies and deep trollers-at least 200 dollars worth of feathers and bangles so beautiful that I'm tempted to turn them into earrings if the fishing does't pan out.
After two lazy days in the anchorage, we decided it was time to move on. Heavy winds had us thinking about the hurricane season upon us now and a plan of trying to add 130 feet of chain to our ground tackle was foremost in our thoughts. We wondered if Loreto would be able to supply such items-and as we also needed a new starter battery- so it was worth a try.
It was on to Escondido, the closest safe anchorage to Loreto, and a well known hurricane hole. Steep mountains line the coastline and the bay is nearly landlocked save for a 200 foot wide entrance to the main harbor. We coasted in, with a keen eye on the depth sounder-it was reading eight feet and a bit and our minimum draft is seven so...it was...interesting...but we managed to squeak through with no paint off the keel. We moored in what looks like a very large pond with a blazing sun setting behind the spectacular mountains surrounding us. The gov't has capitalized on the natural protection of the anchorage by filling it with mooring balls but they also subsidized the nice little marina with showers and a laundry room -oh the joy. Enough fresh water to wash AND rinse one's clothes! We rented a car the next day and drove the 30 KM. to Loreto to restock. Loreto is cool. It's sleepy and slow, in a crumbling Spanish colonial sort of way and graced with an artsy feel. We loved it and the fishing shop and store had all that we needed, including marine supplies and batteries-so we were stoked. One unfortunate incident we had to endure in the last few weeks was that we had broken our Bodem-our french press-oh the suffering! -as this is the only way to make coffee on the boat. I had devised an interim with the martini shaker and a fine meshed sieve but it wasn't the same. As we were cocktail free, we sorely missed the morning hand grind and press. Paradise was somehow compromised by this latest development. In Escondido, there's a fir number of boats, so we had the brilliant idea to put it out there on the morning cruisers net. After weather and check-in there is a swap/trade and local assistance chat. If we could ask where one could replace AGM GROUP 27 Deep cycle marine batteries in the middle of nowhere, surely one could inquire about a french press? Ask and you shall receive.
I had no sooner given my call sign and request than a voice came across the radio and said...
"Sure thing, little lady. I'm a landlubber now and boat-less but I live close by and I'm a fellow caffeine-junkie, so i thoroughly understand yer dilemma".
Within the hour a salty ol' fella met Jon at the marina store, with a brand new bodem and a bag of the best beans to be found "anywhere in the Baja" and a basket of freshly picked cherry tomatoes from his garden. No charge. No money accepted. He just made us promise to stop by for a spaghetti dinner if we find ourselves anchored in the cove near his house.
No problemo, amigo.