Ensenada to La Paz

Day One  

"Are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet?"...read my tea bag tag on D(eparture)-Day.  A famous quote credited, to whom other than, "Kids".  Coincidence???  I think not.  Given that I've been drinking this brand of tea for quite some time and have received numerous "messages", from famous (Mark Twain, Oscar Wilde) and not so famous ( "Anonymous" and the aforementioned, "Kids") folks,  I found it fairly amusing that on this of all days, I would get this particular one.  Who says you can't get messages from beyond?  Far be it from me to question the mystic powers at work inside this little box of tea bags... I am a believer!  

5:00 AM - the alarm goes off in a most annoying fashion and I continue to wonder where in the hell Fred gets these damn clocks?   An object that makes such an offensive noise that your only thought is not of the promise of the day ahead, but rather how fast can you get to the thing with the sole purpose of  maiming or mangling it so that recovery of it's dismantling is not an option.  Mission accomplished Fred, I'm awake!

The day is uneventful other than spotting half a dozen or more whales, one of which came within 100 feet of the bow.  

We arrive in Cabo Colnett, our first night's anchorage, with time enough to set anchor and settle in to enjoy a beautiful sunset and cocktails.  Yeah, this was what we ditched our old life in suburbia for!

Day Two

7:00 am - no nasty alarms going off to wake us at un-Godly hours as this is our "short day". Only seven hours of cruising until our arrival at anchorage for the evening.   We take a bit of time to enjoy the sun rising and the moon setting...very cool. 

 We've read in the guide books that the upcoming anchorage is set inside a bay with some "beautiful black volcanic sand beaches" which will allow us to land a dingy on shore.  We decide to take advantage of this opportunity to give the boys shore leave.  Running free, frolicking through the water as the waves come crashing on to shore.   It'll make their sacrifice of no yard, nowhere to run or play all worthwhile.  Ahhh, yes, it will be awesome

We arrive slightly ahead of schedule to Cabo San Quentin and set about the task of launching the dingy.  Now, it should be noted that we've only done this once before and it was in a controlled, calm and supervised setting.  The water is a bit rolly, but that does not daunt our commitment to the poochies to get them to shore.  With what can only be described as a "don't try this at home" technique, we get the dingy off the deck and into the water. Now, gather the dogs, water packs, leashes, gasoline tanks, a high tech water bailer (a gallon milk container cut in half) and, lest we forget, a camera in the hopes of documenting this most momentous event.  The dogs are excited and must be anticipating the same fun-filled fantasy we have envisioned for them as they scramble into the dingy.  Zeus takes place at the bow, half hanging over with an unwavering stare towards shore.  Everyone in and we're off...well, sort of.  That is until the engine cuts out about 50 feet from the boat.  Nice.  After a few good pulls, Fred gets the motor going again and it's off to shore we head.  Put, putt, putter...the damn thing quits again.  Real top quality equipment here, Fred.  Ever the optimist, "No problem, it just hasn't been run enough".  Okay, whatever, but do we need to start rowing or what?  Zeus is not pleased about these continuous delays and starts to howl.  Kinda like a lighthouse, but with audio.  Guess if we were lost in the fog, he'd make a decent impromptu homing beacon.

We maneuver through kelp patties which seem as impenetrable as an NFL defensive line and land ashore upon none other than, a "beautiful black volcanic sand beach".  Zeus dives off the bow, which I give a 7.3 for ingenuity rather than style.  We decide to let Zeus run loose, which as most of you who know, is a very risky thing to do, but against our better judgment decide to let him have a run.  He immediately bolts as far and as fast as he can from the dingy. No treat in the world is going to get him interested in returning to us. We look off after him and see him running, jumping and now, flipping on his back and rubbing himself into Mother Earth like I've never seen before.  There really must be something about getting back to terra firma that makes the soul happy.  Black, silty sand, rubbed as far as he can into his thick fur.  Not a good start.  

Thor decides chasing after Zeus is a good idea and off the two of them go.  After a bit of coaxing, we retrieve Zeus and back on the leash he goes. The island, however remote, is not the size we'd care to scour should he decide on escape.  We spend the next 30 minutes letting them wander and explore getting in the process, covered with the "beautiful black volcanic sand"..yeah, great!  They both look like they've been doing duty as chimney sweeps.  The waves start crashing in and we can see the boat rolling fairly heavy off in the distance. Doing the prudent (our new word for actions regarding boating...hey, it was on the Word a Day toilet paper) thing, we call shore leave early and decide to head back.  Someone's gotta get the dingy started while the other shoves off from shore, then hops into the boat...okay, okay, I'll do the shoving.  Dogs, water bottles, leashes, hopefully some shoes, and LOADS of black sand all end up back in the dingy.  Now, this little exercise seems, in theory, easy enough until the waves continue to crash against us with some force.  Timing is everything, or so they say and I manage to get us deep enough for Fred to start the engine.  This, however, is not a "From Here to Eternity" moment, but rather a "Bonzo meets Beach Blanket Bingo".  Arms and legs flaying, while trying to get into a dingy which is being pushed into me by crashing waves all the while trying to contain a most unwilling Zeus inside the dingy and pray that the camera in my waist pack doesn't go below the water.  I make it  into the dingy, with a leap that I would honestly have only given a 5.7 due to extremely poor form, but at least getting the job done.  We head back to again face the defensive kelp patties (first down!) to what is now a rockin' and rolling vessel.  Looks scary from the outside, not sure I actually want to go back onboard.  

Everyone out of the dingy and into the cockpit. No way in hell, are any of us going inside until some serious washing is undertaken (did I mention the "beautiful black volcanic sand"??). The problem is that we need to get the dingy BACK on to the upper deck before the weather worsens and before any clean up can start, and as I've mentioned, we have a one time dingy experience to draw from.  This, strangely enough, goes much better than the launching and the big project of washing the dogs begin. Suffice it to say, our "short" day has now lengthened beyond it's anticipated extent.  Three and half hours later, after getting everyone fed, bathed and ready for bed, we are rewarded with one hell'uva a night sky.  I can't remember the last time I saw a more beautiful Milky Way, other than the time I was coming off a two week, no sugar diet and I indulged in one I had stashed away in the freezer...it was heaven.  Tonight the heavens shone so brightly that it was reflecting off the water...it was better than chocolate.

Day Three

5:00 am - "Beep, beep, beep"..urrrg..there goes that damn alarm again.  Is this the vacation lifestyle everyone thinks we're living??  I mean doesn't everyone on vacation get up before the sun, with 16 hour days ahead of them just to get up and do it all over again the next day?   Yup, this is the life I signed up for!

It's cold this morning and I receive no earth shattering prophecies from my tea bag on which to ponder during the voyage.  I do however, enjoy a particularly spectacular sunrise.  If I hadn't looked at my watch I would of thought it was a sunset.

To be honest, until this adventure, sunrises weren't something I saw too much of.  Here's a tip...they're worth getting your ass outta bed for, at least once in awhile.  Makes you appreciate the start of a new day.  Of course, it also makes you realize how long the day really is if you're up at the crack of dawn, but nevertheless, appreciative.

I decide to put on a pot of soup as today is a "long" day (like the others haven't been???) and cooking once anchored will be last on my list of things to do.  Now, for those of you unfamiliar with galleys and the appliance in such,  I personally find it relatively challenging in calm, flat water to prepare what I would considering something worthy of passing for a meal. Today however, we get the bonus of attempting culinary skills with six to eight foot rollers.  Fred cheerfully pops his head in to announce this fact in case it had somehow eluded me as I'm holding onto the contents of what I hoped to be my soup to keep them from flying off the counters.  Thanks for the update babe!  Wow, now this is fun!  At least Fred seems excited about the opportunity to challenge the seas.  Additionally, both of the dogs have been giving me the "look" while they honker down under the salon table desperately searching for some stability and wishing they had thumbs.  The "look", by the way, is one in which you know if they could talk they'd tell us to "fuck off" for dragging them away from their green, green grass of home and along on this little adventure.  But back to my soup.  In my Barbie kitchen is my Barbie stovetop/oven which has been designed with a little thing called a "gimble" which allows it to teeter back and forth with the roll of the ship.  There's something definitively unnerving about watching your stove roll back and forth while something is cooking on top of it.  With all my ingredients chopped, rock-n-rolled and somewhat sautéed, I dump them into my crock pot, which Fred has placed inside the sink so as to prevent it from sliding off the counter (maybe they should make the counters gimble?).  I question his judgment on this, but he assures me it's not a problem. Doesn't everyone put electrical appliances inside their sink when they want to use them???

We arrive at anchorage in Bahia San Carlos and the wind is living up to it's reputation.  Apparently, this is a windsurfer's dream...non stop gusting winds.  Think of Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day, times ten!  It's an early evening.  I head off to bed with a "night sweetie" to which Fred replies, "remember, we need to get going early tomorrow as it's a long travel day".  Early? Long day?  What the hell have we been doing for the past three days?  Are you sensing a theme here?? I  do a quick calculation and determine that if I go to bed right now and fall asleep in the next five minutes, I'll get just about six hours in...it's only 9:00 p.m.

10:15 p.m.

"Rock a bye baby on the treetop, when the wind blows the cradle will rock".  Holy crap did it blow!  And rock??  We were taking waves hard and the boat is pitching bow to stern.  It was like trying to sleep while riding a mechanical bull.  We awake to hear 40+ mph winds with gust upwards of 50 mph  (terrific...gale force winds) and five to six foot waves hitting us INSIDE the bay.  Suddenly, one of the snubber lines (this is an additional line attached to the anchor chain in order to divert tension, blah, blah, blah) snaps.  That's one out of two. Two minutes later, the second one goes...fuck.  By this time, everyone's up and awake.  We get to the pilothouse and survey our options.  We've only got one more hook and not enough line to reset another snubber....bummer.  Now we're REALLY taking some hits. Fred disappears and returns momentarily with two safety harnesses and lines.  Given that neither of us have any experience with these, Fred reads the directions (thank God for the Evelyn Speed Reading course) and suits up ready to take on the challenge.  Go Fred!  With what looks like a scene from the Discovery show "The Most Dangerous Job in the World (you know the one about the Alaskan crab fisherman?) Fred scurries out to the bow, safety line and all.  He manages to secure the anchor line with what some kind of line/knot configuration I have NO idea what (which reminds me I should be looking over the three knot books we've got onboard) and returns inside.  Those guys who ride bulls for three seconds...pussies compared to MY husband!  It's a proud spousal moment.  Wind gusts are coming more frequently and certainly with more force...are we havin' fun yet?  Zeus has decided that he's had enough and frantically starts scratching at the cockpit door and as a bonus, serenades us with that ear piercing whine only Zeus can produce and which can only be measured by high frequency reception equipment.  Thor is directly underfoot in the pilothouse and won't get farther than six inches from either of us.  Okay, it's valium time.  Here's one for Thor and here's one for Zeus.  What...none for me???  What the hell kind of holiday cruise is this?

Day Four 

2:00 am - Things have not improved and Zeus appears to be impervious to the effects of the valium...okay, here baby, have another and shut the hell up!!!  We decide to try an all vessels call and see if anyone in the area can tell us about the surrounding conditions.  Perhaps this is just an anomaly inside what we've now named, The Bay of Death (which shouldn't be confused with the actual Bahia de Muerto).   The VHF is crackling and we're only getting every other word when Fred finally raises someone and finds out that there are only 20-25 mph winds somewhere other than where we're located.  Okay, but being a bit more precise would be really great.  I mean, is this guy around here or is he in Cleveland?  It's crunch time team...do we stay and continue to get beat up or do we pull anchor and head out hoping for better weather in the big black (there's nothing blue about it at night) ocean.  We'll have to travel non stop to our next destination and that's about 10 hours away.   I vote to leave since if we're going to be up anyway and doing shifts, we might as well be making some progress on our itinerary, right?  Fred agrees and we go about the business of pulling anchor.  Back to the safety harness and out onto the bow.  God, where is my slushy, Caribbean cocktail with the little umbrella??  After 30 minutes and popping the circuit breaker on the windlass twice, we pull free and head out.  Adios, to the Bay of Death.

After clearing the shallows and taking a moment to regroup, we figure out that our intended anchorage at our next destination might actually not provide us with much more protection from what appears to be continuing wind and waves.  Okay guys, we're gonna just head for the next stop on the game board.  Do not pass GO, do not collect $200.

After an extremely long day and night we make it to Turtle Bay around 11:00 p.m.  Everyone's beat and it's setting the anchor and off to bed for everyone...nighty, night.

Day Five

We wake up to sea lions and dolphins swimming about 20 feet off the boat and find out that this is a really nice bay/anchorage...cool.  

Time to survey damage and plan our next move.  After what turns out to be a somewhat disastrous breakfast (no further details will be provided) we decide to hang out for the day and make an early start of it tomorrow.  We make some temporary repairs to our bimini which saw the worst side of the winds, refuel from Antonio and Raphael who have kindly come to our boat with their fuel barge instead of having us go to the dock,  have a few cocktails and watch President Bush's acceptance speech.  We're in bed by 8:30 p.m.  Are we a couple of wild and crazy cruisers???

Day Six - Fred's Birthday

5:00 am and we're both awake...no alarm required.  We hear Zeus bark from the upper deck. Zeus NEVER barks.  Fred goes to investigate and finds him staring down from above, but nothing seems wrong except that Zeus appears to be role playing a rooster,  so back to bed Fred goes.  Two seconds later, Zeus resumes his barking. This time, flashlight in hand, Fred finds his first birthday present of the day...a dead duck right at the doorway...ahhh, geez Zeus how special, thanks!  Do we pluck it or chuck it?  I think we'll take #2 door Monty.  Now, how this dog got this duck and decided to drop it right at the doorway is still a mystery.  I mean, he must of had a hand in the duck's demise, even though there's not a mark or hole on the duck, as I find it hard to believe he would choose our boat  to land on to have his final moments on earth and just quietly lay down and die, particularly right in front of the door.  At any rate, Zeus seemed pleased with himself.  Everyone's gotta have a hobby, right?  All hail to the great hunter.

The weather and water are really cooperating today and Fred's feeling a bit ambitious, so Ahab decides he wants to skip two anchorages today and do a 24 hour shift.  Sure, why not?  With no satellite TV and no internet, I got nothing better to do. 

I spend part of the morning baking (yes, believe it or not) birthday brownies.  Fred enjoyed his birthday doing what he loves, fishing.  I mean, is this a happy man or what?  Still only catching bonita as we're not far enough offshore for any bigger game, but at least the dogs are happy.  The day finishes with grilled lobster tails and champagne for a sunset dinner on the flybridge.  Fred said he couldn't think of a better way to spend his birthday...some guys really do have it all!

Day Seven

It's midnight and I've just started my three hour watch.  Now, I'll be honest and say that driving a boat at night, in pitch black seas is at best. a tad unnerving.  How those sailors did it without instrumentation is beyond me.  Or better yet, the Polynesians who took outriggers across oceans when they inhabited Hawaii.  Thanks, but I don't have that much "pioneer" spirit in me.  I'd rather fly the friendly skies.

All goes well with the run and nothing remarkable to report.  My shift over, I head back to bed just before sunrise.  Just as I'm falling back into what I would consider a well deserved coma, I see flashes of light through the overhead hatch.  Odd??  I was just up and didn't see any signs of rain or lightening.  No, wait a minute...it's a Japanese tourist taking non stop pictures from the flybridge.  You know, here you take one of me and I'll take one of you.  Somebody's gonna get hurt.  Reluctantly, I get up and see what all the bulb flashing is about.

Okay, I get it...wow!   Hand me over my camera!  I'm amazed how even though the sun rises everyday, everyday it's different and unique.  I'm actually starting to look forward to seeing them each day.   Not that I'd miss the chance to sleep in (I mean, let's be serious here), but if I've got to be up anyway, it's something of a reward for a long night's work.  Now, I don't want to get all philosophical or anything (Lord knows I don't have the resources for that), but I think I'm beginning to truly appreciate things like sunrises and sunsets which are, in my most humble opinion, one of those awe inspiring wonders of the world.  At least that's the attitude for today.  Catch me after running 24/7 for a week straight and I'm sure I'll have a slightly different take on the subject.

We hang our hat at Bahia San Juanico and plan our next move.  The next leg is to Bahia Santa Maria where we're planning on staying overnight as Fred's got to do some actual "work" that  needs to be sent in by Monday (all together now...ahhhhhh).  We spend a bit of time cleaning the crust of salt off the boat, get some lunch delivered by some local fisherman who stopped by to check out the boat, catch a nap and head off by 9:00 p.m.  By the way, lunch cost us all of $9.00.

Day Eight & Nine

We cruise all night and arrive in Bahia Santa Maria mid morning.  We pull in and figure we've got the place basically to ourselves with the exception of a Mexican shrimp boat.   Late afternoon and we're just starting cocktail time, enjoying the peace and quiet, when all of a sudden about 20 other boats show up.  Where the hell did all these people come from???  Did we miss a memo or something?  To our surprise, another Nordhavn trawler even joins the group.  They must have some sort of homing device on them to seek out other Nordhavns.  We spend two nights here with nothing really significant to report.  It was great having some down time before starting the longest leg of the trip.  It's Cabo or bust!

Day Ten

For whatever reason, I've woke up tired and slightly on the cranky side.  This is never a good way to start your day.  Possibly, it's some added stress that Thor has begun refusing to go "potty" on the boat while we're underway and is being extremely resistant to the idea even while at anchor.  He's going on 24 hours without peeing and 48 hours without using the "poop" deck.  I understand his resistance to going while underway as it's tough enough for me.  I finally figure out why they make the space where the toilet sits so narrow...it's so that if you're in rolling seas, you simply bounce off the side walls and your butt never leaves the toilet seat.  Ingenious!  While I understand most people would have the attitude that the dog will go when he has to, we have some serious concerns about his health.  He's listless and isn't taking much water.  We've done everything we can think of to coax him, but he is not cooperating.   He's also thrown up twice while at anchor, so something is definitely amiss.  Fred and I look at each other and the silent guilt starts to build.

We've been going since sunrise (no awe inspiring picture taking today) and are planning for a mid morning arrival tomorrow into Cabo San Lucas.  The weather is holding except for some fairly good sized rollers and we decide to deploy the paravane stabilizers.  The upside is that they really do help along with the Naiad stabilizers in controlling the roll of the boat.  The downside to them is that they will slow us down.  Slow us down?  Shit, how much slower can we actually go?   Might need to recalculate our travel time and add a bit more to the end.  Fuck!  Bad news for Thor at this point.  When you start to think about how long it actually takes to get a very short distance, you start to reconsider what the hell you're doing.  I mean, it's not like driving a car (or okay, an RV, might as well get THAT in there so Fred can say he told me so) where you can just pull over and take a break.   I give some thought to the fact that this is a fairly short leg compared to what we'll be doing when we head to the Caribbean and occasionally wonder what the hell  we're doing, what were we thinking and are we in over our heads?  Fred, it should be noted, never considers any of this to be a topic for evaluation.  He's just happy being "at sea".   He's a constant source of inspiration and confidence.  God love him!

The sun sets and my first shift begins.  Now to be clear, I don't have any problem with doing my part, that's not where I'm going with this (note to Vicki, do not confuse me with KB).  I think the part I dislike about doing watch is trying to overcome the immense boredom.  I mean, staring at the chart plotter, the radar and all the other gadgets for three hours at a shot is just not my idea of a stimulating experience.  I wish I could get "Law & Order" reruns on these things...then I'd be set.  And yes, I consider watching old L&O reruns stimulating, particularly when you catch one you've never seen before.  It's like bonus day...woo hoo!!  Of course, the entire purpose of being  "on watch" is to actually watch things.  But watch what?  I mean, it's pitch black out so you can't look outside and actually see anything.  And the instruments don't seem to change in the slightest, which I'm sure is a good thing.  Would rather that radar screen be blank than have anything pop up on it and have to figure out what to do from there.  The most interesting thing that happens is the current depth is 1554 feet and the fish finder is placing a target at 1364 ft.  What the hell is down there???  At what depth do they find those giant squid???

Day Eleven

2:00 am and I'm back on watch.  My  mood has taken a turn for the worse.  Unfortunately, I spent most of my "off" time trying to get to sleep rather than sleeping.  Remember that annoying little travel alarm??  Let's just say that it will no longer be bothering me.  Also had a close encounter with a sailboat.  Fred cut the engines, which is our signal for "I need you NOW", so being the good little sailor, I hustle my ass to the pilothouse.  Apparently, the guy in the sailboat had tacked directly in front of us, close enough that Fred could see the guys in the cockpit, which in the middle of the night, is pretty damn close.   When Fred tried to avert, they tacked again, right in front of us so he had no choice but go dead in the water until they figured out what the hell they were doing.  Now I realize that sailboats under sail have right of way, but that still shouldn't give them the right to a) be running at night with inappropriate navigation lights and b) as they could plainly see us, as we're lit up like a Christmas tree, you think they'd not feel the need to cut directly in front of us.  Assholes!  Now, I realize that I'm just plain bitching here, but sleep deprivation has that effect on me.  I'm normally an eight hour a night kinda gal, and only catching an hour here and an hour there is not doing the job for me.  Top that off with the fact that Thor still refuses to go potty and has been out every hour on the hour and the stress level begins to rise.  The good news is we should be in Cabo in about five hours.  We've decided based on Thor's current status that we'll break the leg to La Paz into three rather than going straight through, so this will be the last night watch either of us have to do for awhile.  The fish finder is currently flashing at 2775 ft, which I think means it's reach it's limit to measure the depth, so it's pretty deep.  No fish are registering.  Maybe the giant squid got them all.

Arrive in Cabo around 7:00 am. Fred nearly runs over a marlin sunning himself on the surface...pretty much all it takes to get Fred excited.  We finally reach someone at the marina and get our slip assignment and head in.  We reach dock and both the dogs are uncontrollable trying to get them onto a leash to take them off.  Basically busting through the gateway at the end of the dock Thor literally drags me to the nearest piece of dirt.  I give the palm tree he hit a 50% chance of survival.  

Wow, this is great.  Cabo has sure grown up since I first visited nearly 12 years ago.  We head back to the boat and Zeus determines that he is most certainly doomed to incarceration aboard again and digs in with all his strength to not be lead down the proverbial  path.  As Fred drags him along, Zeus leans back at a 45 degree angle and even though Fred's got 150 lbs on him, Zeus makes it clear why these dogs haul hundreds of pounds of supplies over terrain that no person in their right mind would want to traverse.

We hit Ruth's Chris Steakhouse for dinner.  God, I love a place that serves you a perfectly done steak sizzling in butter because the fat in the meat just isn't enough.   I'm reminded of the tea bag message I received the day before, "Too much of a good thing is wonderful", Mae West.  Now that's an attitude to live by.   Warm and fuzzy from good food and good wine, I'm comforted by the fact that we really are having the time of our lives, it WAS the right thing to do.  It's early to bed and we look forward to a good night's sleep.  I never want to leave.

Day Thirteen

After a bit of supply shopping at Costco (a little piece of home, eh?) and the local market the day before, we head out of Cabo, bound for Bahia Los Frailes (Bay of The Friars).  A few miles out, we once again, damn near run over a rather good size marlin hangin' out on the surface.  Fred no longer able to contain himself, gets some lines in the water and we hope for a fish dinner.  First strike!  Another fuckin' bonita.  Dinner for the boys, again.  Unfortunately, the sea is not cooperating and we end up with 20 kt winds and 4-6+ ft seas hitting us straight on the nose.   Spray is coming over the bow.  Ride'em cowboy!  Alas, their will be no fishing today for poor Fred.

After a long day, we arrive in Los Frailes and set about the business of dropping anchor.  We pull between two sailboats and Fred starts dropping the anchor only to have one guy come out and start bitching that we were laying ours somewhere in the neighborhood of his.  Fred explains that he can see the anchor and that we'll be pulling back about 200 feet, but the guy's not having any of it and wants us to leave.  As  the anchor chain comes up and we try to determine another suitable location, Fred spots Zeus swimming off the back end of the boat.  Swimming?  What the hell is he doing in the water??  Man overboard!   With me on the flybridge running the boat and Fred on the foredeck, the choice of action is obvious to me... "Fred, do something damn it....get in the water and get him".  Of course, Fred being the level headed guy he is, tries to call him over to the boat so we can snag him, thereby eliminating another crew member in the water, but Zeus is confused and starts heading out to sea.  NOW I'm really screaming "Get him", along with a few other choice words I'd rather not repeat here.  We finish getting the anchor up and I try and get the boat as close to Zeus as possible.  Fred finally concedes as Zeus is not coming when called (what a surprise!) and jumps in after him .  Where are those "Baywatch" bitches when you really need them??.  Everyone back on board, we drop anchor in a less than stellar location, rinse the dog and call it a day.  Over Cosmos we contemplate whether Zeus accidentally fell in or intentionally jumped.  Thor's the only witness and he's not talking.  Which brings about another possible scenario, Columbo....that Zeus was actually pushed by an overbearing and attention seeking sibling.  With no hard evidence to support any theory, we file it away under "unsolved mysteries".  

Day Fourteen

We pull out of Los Frailes with a beautiful sunrise and what appears to be good seas ahead.  Finally...a nice day.  Fred is able to drop some lines and we end up with a couple of small dorados straight away.  We also snag a rather large specimen of the species, "the one that got away".  Honestly though, not sure what it was, but it snapped a 50 TW line and took off with one of Fred's brand new lures.  Bastard.

We're heading to Bahia de Los Muertos ( Bay of the Dead) and have a pretty much, perfect day.  Water is relatively calm which is a welcome relief as we have been getting tossed around each day.  We arrive and show the water temperature  is reading 80 degrees and the visibility is about 50 feet...nice.  Time for a quick swim.

One tragic note, Los Muertos has claimed the life of Thor's favorite toy...the stuffed baseball.  Thor stares Fred down and does not understand why he hasn't leaped to the occasion to rescue his drowning toy.  Sorry Thor, the ball has been sacrificed to the sea gods.  Sensing the dangers that lurk on the open ocean for such items as favorite toys, I have prepared for such an emergency.  Viola!  Out of a cupboard appears another large, stuffed, squeaky ball.  Thor seems thrilled and doesn't seem to care that it's a soccer ball and not a baseball.  Did I mention that he's blonde?  No matter...everyone's happy and that's what really counts.

Off to bed while dreams of our last day at sea dance in our heads.

Day Fifteen

Ahhhh...the last leg.  The wind is back at it again hitting over 25 kts at times and causing quite a few white caps.  Another choppy ride, but at least our last for a time.  With a rather anti climatic ending, we arrive in La Paz and settle in. 

We will hang out here until after the first of the year and then decide whether to stay a bit longer or head off to the mainland and down through the Canal  reaching our desired destination of the Caribbean. 

The last two weeks have been a great training exercise for us and we are feeling a bit more confident in our ability to handle the long range cruising lifestyle.  There's nothing like the "immersion" technique for learning.

Til our next passage...