The Wet Edge

Ode to Eliade

Happy New Year!

It turns out the World, did not end, after all, back on December 21, 2012...

I had been fairly sure it wasn't gonna.

According to the Popol Vuh, the Ancient Mayans actually considered themselves, the greatest, most awesomest, people the cosmos had ever seen.

They had no concept of Apocalypse - a miserable, pinche gringo concoction...They thought of themselves as eternal.

Like all cool kids.

Most likely, they were making ends to calendars, just for the excuse to have an epic party and build a few more temples by the end of the epoch...

Even though I knew it was unlikely, I decided Impending Doom was an excellent opportunity to NOT think about what we would do next (for a few weeks) and enjoyed eating as much Nutella as a person can consume in a month.

So, when December 22 dawned bright and clear...

I was back to pondering what we would do and where we would go once the holidays were over.

Thankfully, the big ponder could wait for a few more weeks-we had another guest arriving on the same day my mother was flying out.

We were sorry to see her go but the list of things to get done before for our friend's arrival kept us busy until the final moment.

Once again, we washed and cleaned the boat and filled the water tanks.

We changed the sheets in the sleeping bags and took the towels to the washer-ladies,

I loaded the boat with bags of Masa for tortillas and Jon sharpened his spear.

JR would be bringing a large bag of goodies for us and our much needed water maker membrane and we were looking forward to resurrecting this helpful tool.

Ours is not the greatest water maker on earth; it's old and small and doesn't make much-only a gallon an hour -but cruising without one is an exercise in constant vigilance.

We carry about 140 gallons. The four of us use about 10 a day-more with guests and more with washing up after grand holiday meals-so, after a couple weeks out, you do have to start to do the math.

While mom packed her bags and had last minute snuggles with the kids, Jon and I whirled like Dervishes and got everything tidy and ready and ship shape.

The winter weather pattern was holding and we were experiencing another round of strong Northers. We mapped out a course to head South on the winds and then work our way back up on the calmer mornings-the big loop would let us show JR some of our favorite spots, keep us protected from the worst of the weather-and get us back in a week so he could fly out again.

The fishing and the marine life would be up to Mother nature but we had our fingers crossed that we would get lucky.

JR literally stepped off of his plane as my mom was getting on hers. Hunter and I still cried and our hearts were tight with missing Nana but it was good to have JR here and he brought instant smiles and laughs and more PRESENTS!

There was an unbelievably cool dive light for Jon and a Monster High Doll for Hunter and another cool light for Kai and box sets of shows I longed to see and more presents from Grandma Sara and more stuff for Pura vida...it was Xmas all over again.

After one last shop for the Best Ever wheat tortillas made at the roadside stand in Loreto, we loaded all our goodies onto the boat and settled in for the night.

The next morning we had a fair sail South on a bright and windy day.

JR is a sailor from way back and he settled right in to our routine.

He also ate about thirty tortillas on the first day.

It's literally impossible to describe how good they are.

Later, after anchoring in the lee of a rocky islet, Jon and Kai went hunting for our dinner with Manta while Hunter and I took J for a snorkel.

As we worked our way along a small reef, I noticed a chink in the rock just barely wide enough to swim through.

Poking my head through, to see if we could make the tight passage, I noticed it narrowed into a long squeeze for five feet and then opened up into a twenty foot deep canyon on the other side.

It was a giant aquarium.

A "fishbowl", literally filled with a huge school of juvenile sardines.

Millions of them.

Milllions and millions and millions of tiny silver fish.

I signaled to JR and Hunter to swim through.

We spent the next hour, in gin-clear water, surrounded by a moving, silver bait ball.

Every direction you moved they swirled and moved, together and apart, around you, above and beneath you.

As they rushed this way and that, their moving bodies made a sound unlike anything I have ever heard.

It's the sound of shooting stars,

and the goddess dreaming.

Never in my life, have I seen anything like it.

Well, maybe, kind of, in an IMAX theater, but my daughter and best friend were the stars of this movie.

When you get one of these moments out here;

Where what's happening in front of you is one of those gobsmacking moments of surreal beauty,

and you look over and see the expression on the face of a person you love dearly...

And you are sharing this thing, this happening, that no one else on earth is having, in this way, at this very moment...

Well, it's hard not to feel like a Mayan.

And that you are part of this,

The Myth of Eternal Return.

It's just f-ing great...

And then you pause to wonder what big thing might be lurking in that drop-off (right over there) and what these terrified Sardines are hiding from?

Later that night the wind came up from the West and made the anchorage untenable.

We woke the crew and weighed anchor and moved to a safer spot.

The moon was up, the wind blew cold and we rocked gently on the wraparound swell off a long empty stretch of beach.

We decided to move on to Agua Verde the next morning- out of the North winds and a good spot to teach JR how to scuba on the protected reef inside.

Manta had also told us of a cave in the hills that was reputed to have ancient cave paintings.

As we set down the hook for the third time in twelve hours, there were dolphins in the anchorage -

Hunter offered to take JR for a ride in the dingy and show him how to "play" with them.

Jon and I had to chuckle as we watched our eight year old daughter expertly hook up the fuel hose and lower the outboard and prime the engine and start the finicky machine.

JR looked at us with a "OMG?" expression.

We shrugged.

Boat kids are neat like that.

That night we climbed on the boom and laid under a blanket of stars and talked and laughed.

It was great to see our old friend.

We've all come a long way from previous incarnations in our lives and all of us have shared in the growing and changing of one another.

It was a gift to see our friend in such a happy, peaceful, prosperous place and we were thrilled to share our new special world with him.

JR learned to Scuba and re-discovered his long lost love of Pufferfish.

He spent most of every dive catching and cuddling the prickly little puff balls.

New Years eve we had another feast on Manta with freshly found Sea delicacies.

We danced to Old School Soul and watched a full crimson moon rise from the sea.

Manta went to bed and we dingied back across a sea of phosphorescence to Pura Vida and waited for 2013.

We whispered prophecies and wishes, sent prayers for friends and family not with us,

counted our blessings, told silly jokes,

meditated the coming year

and at 12:00 the kids banged on the pots and pans and woke up the only other two boats of non-partying, goat-fish eating, stern-looking Norwegians who shared the anchorage with us.

Then JR looked at his iPhone and realized our boat clock was wrong and we were 7 minutes ahead of midnight.

So, 7 minutes later, we woke them up again.

New years day was blowing a light gale but the boats were well anchored out of the fetch so we set out on an adventure.

Manta had located some GPS coordinates on google earth and spotted what looked like the painted cave.

We hiked for hours through, desert trails, past old graveyards, through ranchers fields across someones yard, through a swampy jungle, down a three mile beach and then climbed a mountain.

There was no cave at the given longitude but we found another one.

From the beach we looked up the cliffs towering over the sea and at the very tippity top you could see a low cave mouth.

"If I was ancient peoples, that'd be my spot." Kai said.

And so it was.

The cave, where in times unknown( it turns out archeologists have yet to identify the early peoples of the Baja, despite their evidences being everywhere. The Mexican gov't is only just beginning to take an interest in funding the scientists looking to explain it) must have held at least twenty or thirty people, was incredible.

From inside it, you could see forever.

The ocean, the lands surrounding, there would have been fresh water nearby-the jungle creek we hiked through- you could have seen the great whales and the schools of giant tuna moving in the channel...

Hunter found evidence of fire in the back of the cave...

and of course, there were the paintings.

Tiny handprints in red ochre on a limestone relief.

I watched Hunter and Kai clamber around the cave,

imagining who might of lived here and what they might of done, where they went or what they became.

Just like those Ancient Mayans...

A mystery...

surrounded by a bunch of gringo's making S@#% up.

:).

Give me back my camera!

Amazing J

Agua Verde

Honeymoon cove

Who's hands?

inside the cave

Letting off steam

life of a boat kid: schlepp schlepp schlepp

J treats us to a hotel...and dinner and a massage for me!

and a hot tub for Hunter!

And Kai finally takes a REAL shower

Sorry to see you go our lovely friend!

But we looooove you!
PS. The kids say "GO TO BED!"

The Winter Sea

The "Northers" were blowing in ernest now and high clouds from some far-off Pacific low made for some grey days.

Digging though the bilges, in search of winter clothes, I remembered I had brought them all home with me on our last trip-thinking we would be well South by this time.

We made do, with hot water bottles after snorkeling and mugs of steaming tea in the mornings.

It was an excuse to dig out the baking pans and make breads and cakes to warm up the boat and Nana and the kids baked christmas cookies for Santa.

Nana was happy and so were the kids and it was lovely to have someone to distract them.

Jon and I were able to dive alone again-and now that he has a compass AND a dive computer, we can do it with confidence.

As with most things, Jon has taken to diving with his usual, hyper-focus and being alone with him underwater is exciting and relaxing at the same time.

I love to dive with the kids but not having to worry ( although Kai is likely a million times more adept than I am down there) sure makes me use up my air less quickly.

We had more dives with Manta and Jon managed to spear another Yellowtail so we were able to treat Nana to Sushi -Pura Vida style.

There were huge platters of Tuna tartar and Poke and Hamachi rolls and seared yellowtail.

Terry and Dawn hit a motherlode of "Lion's Paw" scallops one day and were generous (as always) and shared their score with us. We made Scallop sushi and scallop Pad Thai, we made clam chowder with chocolate clams, Thai-style fishcakes with fresh snapper, and homestyle Japanese dinners with steamed whole fish in wasabi butter and green onions-needless to say, no one starved.

Christmas Eve Day, we deboned another turkey and stuffed it with homemade stuffing and tied it in a roulade and served it with gravy and mashed potatoes and a spicy cabbage salad.

Santa managed to find his way to our lovely desolate anchorage and on the big day we woke to crystal clear skies and a main salon covered in presents.

ALL the grandparents found a way to deliver a mega bounty and old Santa saw fit to gift Kai a BB gun and Hunter a guitar- Pura vida now has a resident rock star AND a mercenary-no seagull will ever take a dump on our dingy again!

Manta came over with more presents and later that day, we had ANOTHER delicious feast on their boat.

It's always inspiring what other cruisers can whip up in their own tiny spaces- especially ones as great in the galley as Dawn.

Santa brought wimpy little me a warm and cozy 7mm wetsuit and Hunter a nice new one and after presents we tried out our spiffy gear.

I swam beside my golden daughter, through a rocky underwater labyrinth of an ancient lava flow, watching the filtered sunlight glinting off of her flowing mane.

She dove, down, down, down after large parrot fish, holding a new camera given to us by our friends. She now holds her breath longer than one can imagine is possible for such a little thing. She wiggles between tight crevices and pops out the other side, chasing the rainbow colored monster.

The image of my little mermaid, swimming twenty feet down and looking back at me and smiling, while she points to a baby lobster hiding under a rock and then dolphin kicks back to the surface with fluid sylph-like grace-it's not your average Christmas day memory...but I won't forget it.

This Christmas brought yet another steep learning curve to my current, mid-life, by-polar-joyride.

I am usually a wreck at some point over the Holidays...and this year was no exception.

Even given the outlandish, unorthodox location for the actual event.

We were anchored peacefully in the middle of nowhere-but I had shopped and baked and decorated and planned and stressed just as much as I ever did back home.

I managed to make myself nuts for at least one entire afternoon.

I have such huge expectations of what I want things to be, what I imagine things should be.

Every year since we had babies...

I want to make it perfect, make it the best ever, I want Peace on Earth, I want a glowing halo of magic, I want Santa to come...

I want every Christmas to hold every tradition, from blatant consumerism to ecclesiastical ecstasy.

Fortunately, everyone on my boat knows this about me-including my mother.

So when I begin to go a billion miles an hour, moving from one end of the boat to the other at the speed of light, multitasking with a duster in one hand and a baking mitt on the other, when I try to learn four new songs on the guitar and wrap every present like it's actually made by elves, when I expect the cover shot of Gourmet Magazine from my Turkey, when I want every moment to be ringed in a Hallmark glow-and end up in tears because I fear I'm falling short of that mark...

My family was understanding and patient and reminded me that it is what it is-and that it's all perfect-
And...It's just me who's bonkers.

Why is that?

How can I be so happy and content and switched on and totally getting the whole Buddhist thing one day and then the next second, I'm the poster child for perimenopause?

I look over at the ocean surrounding me.

This morning, as I write this, she's stretched herself out flat.

She lies quietly in the sun, like a great, languid, napping cat.

Not a thing in the world could disturb her, she's so calm.

But last night, she was certainly not the same beast.

We tossed and wrenched on our anchor line while our rigging whined and she slapped us with waves,

She hissed and yowled in the darkness...

It was a furious and sleepless night.

But this morning...

None of that remains.

All her wild energy was released and flew away with the wind.

I guess we are all affected, as the ocean is, by the elements around us.

Tides and winds, unexpected changes, self doubt and Christmas holidays can sure whip me into a frenzy...

But time and time again,
I have seen that when the wind lies down,

the Ocean settles herself just as quickly.

I can't seem to maintain tranquility on a permanent basis-not yet anyway.

At least, not when faced with cooking turkeys and raising children and wondering what I might do for a job in the future.

Maybe one day, with a few more years of mediation, I will master these mental winds of mine.

But for now, I can try to take my cues from the teacher around me.

When I feel the winds and tides conspiring to make a madwoman of me,

I can look to the sunny day, to a snorkel with my daughter, drawing birds with my son and sleeping next to a man I love,

And then I can lay down and stretch out into that endless calm...

And maybe, one day, it'll last.

Making cookies

Megaladon tooth -from Manta

Rasta Man-ta

Sweetboy

The Peeker

crazy

The Watchman

Nana and the Birthday Man

"Nana is coming!"

"Santa is coming!"

"It's almost Daddy's birthday!"

Hunter is boundless in her glee.

She runs from bow to stern and hugs everyone she encounters.

She announces over the VHF (to the entire fleet) that "Nana is coming TODAY!"....

The last few days have been a whirlwind of activity.

(We're not ALWAYS loafing and shooting fish).

We had been out and about for weeks and were in need of a MAJOR restock.

Company is coming ( Nana and our friend Jr would be guests over the holidays) and as there are wee ones aboard, Christmas must come with all the bells and whistles- or a least a little tree tied to the mast.

But first things first-we needed water.

Desperately.

A few days ago, we discovered that our water maker was on the fritz and our secondary tank had become contaminated.

All the hours Jon diligently spent replenishing our water supply- a week's work of running the desalinator off the solar panels and the generator- had culminated in us making only less salty water out of very salt water.

I had noted a slight change in taste but dismissed it as someone forgetting to rinse the cups thoroughly in fresh water- to conserve, we wash everything in salt first.

A day later, everyone was seeming very out of whack.

Jon re-tested our water and discovered that instead of making 600 parts per million-we were making 2100...

This explained why we all looked as if we had been binging on a diet of pickles and potato chips.

Thank Goodness. I thought it was just middle-age bloat.

We had ruined our forty gallons of hard earned fresh water but fortunately, the water maker only fills the holding tank-the primary is separate-to avoid such a mishap from fouling the entire water supply.

What a monumental bummer that would be if one were crossing the Pacific.

As well as water, we also needed diesel, gasoline, food and to do our laundry ...so we made for the marina in Escondido.

The only Marina around for a hundred miles.

Well...

The marina at Escondido has no water.

They have not fixed the pump damaged by Hurricane Paul- four months ago.

They have also forgotten to pay their (gas pumping) license fee to the government so even though they have diesel in the big tank- they are not legally allowed to sell it to you.

They also have no gas.

But they do have beer!

So, we bought beer.

We spent the next three days, humping back and forth to Loreto ( forty miles away) with our Jerry cans.

Jon and Kai lugged 580 pounds of water on board, in five gallon jugs and emptied them into our tanks.

Hunter and I dropped two body bags of laundry off at the Lavandaria in Loreto and a sweet-faced, Mexican Abuela did our wash for us.

It turns out, running out of water does have it's advantages.

Jon spent a fun filled day, disassembling the water maker- imagine taking the space shuttle apart and then rebuilding it, one precious seal at a time- only to discover the problem was not a faulty seal-cheap and replaceable- but most likely the membrane.

A spare part we do not have and costs 400 dollars to replace.

This is the Murphy's law of cruising.

As soon as company is coming-the heads will fail, the fridge will over heat, the water maker will blow, the weather turns cold, the crystal clear waters cloud and the sea-life will migrate somewhere else.

The people who love you will come to visit, just when your boat smells like mold and you will have only wilted grey fruits and vegetables to serve and everyone will spend their vacation playing cards around an oil lamp while the wind howls through the anchorage.

-This is what I was worrying about.

As it turns out, it wasn't quite that bad.

After refilling the tanks and getting all the spare fuel cans on board and rearranging our lockers-which entailed moving everything we didn't need in the next two weeks into the trunk of the car-we managed to get to the Sunday market.

Thankfully, we have our dear, old Subaru down here.

Driving your own car, while exploring a foreign country by boat, is a weirdly awesome luxury.

I may not have a hot shower for months on end- but at least, I can climb into a familiar vehicle and drink in the comforting smell of worn-out pleather-and a little bit of home sinks in.

Mexican roads are fearsome but in my trusty Subaru, I am ready for anything...

and I can pull into the dusty arroyo where the local Sunday Farmers market is held and I feel more like a local.

Well. Maybe not a local, local-I would need chickens hanging out of the car windows for that-but I feel more confident.

I shop the stalls with confidence, using my six and a half words of Spanish with flair.

The Sunday market was excellent (as usual) and Hunter and Kai were thrilled to discover that right between the guy selling a donkey from the back of his truck and our favorite cilantro lady, was a booth selling Christmas trees.

They weren't real-of course, but they were something and the same vendor had lights and lots of festive decorations-in Mexican colors like pink and electric blue and we managed a whole bag of stuff to decorate the boat with.

We spent the rest of the day offloading our purchases from the car into the dingy-which required climbing (with the bags) down a steep vertical rung ladder onto a rickety homemade, half sinking dock. It took about ten trips back and forth to load on all the provisions, then I spent the next six hours careful washing and cleaning( by soaking in a detergent bath) every single fruit or veg brought aboard. Jon continued to hump more water aboard until it was dark.

Each time we restock, fuel, water- it takes two entire days to complete the process.

We got the boat decorated and looking spiffy, the fridge and every food locker and bilge compartment was loaded beyond capacity and we were ready-for two weeks out with a guest...and then we will have to do this entire process all over again.

I will never moan about going to a grocery store or having to fill the car with gas.

I will thank my lucky stars if I ever get to use a vacuum or a dishwasher again.

Sometimes, I feel like we really are homesteaders out here, or at least, something slightly Amish.

Minus, the whole bible reading thing, of course...

and possibly a bit more drinking and swearing, singing and dancing.

But other than that...total Amish-ness.

Up at dawn. Bed shortly after dark. Mend our own clothes and bake our own bread.

And it's a long, long way from the nearest Betsy Johnson boutique.

Oh, how I've changed.

Today, when I looked in the mirror, I saw a wizened, blond, sea urchin in the reflection.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked.

But the creature in the mirror, knows there is no point in answering that question.

She has been reading Buddhism.

She may not know where her hairbrush is anymore- but she knows a thing or two about living in the moment.

She looks back at me and says;

"Put your bikini on, bitch".

So I do.

Nana arrived at the airport, in a flourish of scarves and a lovely hat and two smartly packed bags.

Nobody travels as well as my mother.

The kids were overjoyed to see her and so were Jon and I.

We took her for tacos in town, then whisked her back to the boat.

By sun-up the next morning, we were setting sail for San Juanico.

The weather was the only part of my imagined horror that seemed to hold true.

The North winds blew cold and the Pineapple Express-clouds form the Pacific-made a dark and liquid grey of my aquamarine world.

Nana could care less.

She certainly wasn't here to tan.

She was in bliss just to snuggle the kids and coo over how beautiful they are and marvel at the scenery.

She laughed at the dolphins and gasped at the stars.

She met Manta, our wonderful new friends.

With her here, to babysit Hunter, Jon and Kai and I were able to dive all together, with Manta - for a change.

We cooked Nana all kinds of fish, speared on hunting forays.

And now, with Nana aboard, helping with the chores...the grown-ups outnumber the kids-so we're winning!

Things stay tidy at last!

We celebrated Jon's birthday-

Dolphins played in the anchorage as we made Jon breakfast.

He got a new knife and a shark tooth necklace and we wrapped everything in pages torn from a Vanity Fair ( hurray for the naked pictures of Kate Moss!)

Nana had brought me this little bit of literary escapism and the previous day, I had spent a wonderful hour in my bunk not being bugged by the kids, eating chocolate almonds( also Nana gifts) and reading about the fantastically squalid life of the rich and beautiful.

Hunter and Nana baked a red velvet cake while Kai and Jon and I went spearfishing.

We came back with two snappers and all of us half frozen.

Birthday Jon napped while I turned Pura Vida into a French bistro for the day.

The North winds blew a gale outside but we lay comfortably at anchor, sheltered by the lee of a volcano, listening to Edith Piaf, drinking red wine and eating lovingly stowed away treasures from home.

Pate and cornichons-

And for dinner, steaks et pomme frites-rustled from the galley.

And of course, Hunter's cake.

And more wine.

Dolphins continued to play in the sandy bay and the stars came out and we had grand time sharing it all with a new crew member.

And my beloved captain celebrated ... another year, still short... of Forty.

Cheeky bugger.

My Ship Mate...

and Soul Mate.

Who gallantly protects this little seaward tribe,

and navigates us through the tricky bits...

and never lets us down.