There is a large contingent of gringo sailors permanently living in La Paz : on boats in marinas, on moorings, or just anchored out. A significant number have moved a shore and put down roots in this very comfortable community. Their VHF radio as a link to their nautical past. Many of these former salts still join the morning net, offering advice to the new fleet on where to find services, locate parts, and find the best deals in town. This provides a forum for a fight each day, as they do not always agree with each other. Net control allows them to duke it out verbally for a minute or two before going on. The yachties must then decide to go with Old Sea Dog or Maverick’s information. The VHF continues to be heavily used. Finding an open channel, after the initial contact on channel 22, goes like this, “Let’s go to 14 and wait or go to 68 and up”. The FCC would get rich writing tickets as about half of the traffic is land based. Many restaurants announce their special of the day and clubs their entertainment for the evening fare.
Beside the climate, warm water and the pristine beauty of the Sea of Cortez living on the Baja offers some strong enticements. Comfortable air conditioned apartments are from $l50 to $800 dollars per month. Fresh veggies and fruits are $2.50 for a full grocery tote. All canned foods are very expensive. Of course the anchorages are always free.
Olympia B Dock Reunion. When checking into the port captain in La Paz, Bob Ben, off of boat
Cool Change, came in to do the same. He looked the part of a South Seas cruiser : old boat
shoes, no socks, cotton pants rolled to mid calf, tee-shirt, baseball cap, a stubby beard, and a big
smile on a friendly tanned face. Boy, it was good to run into him again. We spent several days enjoying
his company and exchanging stories. The following are several of his best yarns :
Tale 1 : Single handing his S2 36 sail boat around Point Conception, Calif. in high winds and rough
sea conditions he decided to sail out to the Channel Islands to find a lee anchorage. When the hook
was set he was wound to tight to sleep, so he tuned in a Spanish radio station to practice his second
language. His attempt to understand even one word was futile. The station turned to be a Vietnamese
broadcast Bob laughingly confessed.
Tale 2 : In an eatery Bob’s friend uncapped a pop to find a rather large dead bug in the bottle. He pointed
out his find to the waiter, asking for a replacement. “No problem senior.” He took the container,
snapped the cap back on, and the returned bottle to the cooler, bug and all, and came back with a fresh
one. Next customer?
Tale 3 : Sailing the last leg to Cabo, where there is tremendous amount of traffic and you are only a few
miles off, you can’t go below for even a short nap. Single handing and very tired, Bob radioed two friends
on another boat nearby that he was going below for some ZZZZZZs. If danger was imminent they agreed to
call on the VHF, which he had by his ear, to awaken him. A well rested Bob sailed into Cabo the next
morning.
This is a special fellow that all you B Dockers must get to know better when he arrives back in Olympia
in October from the South Pacific. This is one of the great benefits of cruising, we now have time to spend
with people and enjoy their company. The hectic, helter skelter lives and routines, calendars, appointments,
and time are of little importance any more. Down here people really do come first. A pleasant change and
the way it should be.
Dumb Dept. : (just heard these tales) A 40’ power boat came in to anchor in this crowded harbor. He put out 450 feet of rode in only 25 feet of water. He wrapped up half of the harbor. After untangling , with much assistance, all the other ground tackle that he had collected, he resented the suggestion that he use no more than a 7 to 1 scope. Most boats then moved to other locations leaving him to swing on his huge arc.
(Name dropping) Robert Murdock’s crew brought his 2 year old 165’ ketch the other day. He flew into La Paz for some R&R. What a boat, she has red mast lights (I assume for low flying aircraft). I just realized that, if he invited all the Cascades to raft up for a potluck, Summer Snow has four sister 36’ boats in La Paz now, we could all tie bow to stern on the same side! One thing, it doesn’t matter who you are when the northerlies blow and the waves roll in, we all dance to the same La Paz Waltz.
Mexico Vignettes : women beautifully dressed and immaculately clean walking down dusty back streets
in high heels : kids on roller blades in the park having fun very happy just being kids : trucks with loud,
loud speakers blaring information as they cruise through town (usually political) : organized
soccer games are played on the beach with mucho gusto : a gringo sailor with a parrot on his shoulder
taking an early morning constitutional always dressed in the same garb. Parrot poop adorns his shirt,
pants and shoes. He only changes clothes after returning Mr. P. to his perch : taco stands taco stands
and more taco stands, vendors approaching you at the table while your eating in a nice restaurant :
rebars sticking from unfinished projects everywhere : large deep holes in sidewalks : new VW Bugs :
telephone boxes with no phones, just wires : cars and trucks with loud faulty mufflers or pipes :
the bottom half of men protruding from under the open hood of an old car : taxis everywhere : vendors
with pirated tapes : uniformed school kids : pharmacies and bakeries every other block or so.
There are chickens and dogs everywhere. The hounds in a neighborhood bark continuously and all
seem to be related as they look alike and about the same size. I am sure no one has there pet spade,
no population control is in affect. What about a free condom for pets program?
Now the chickens tune up in the middle of the night and continue all day, but their population control is
dealt with in a more tasteful manner.
(Odd Dept.) Beautiful fresh roses are sold by vendors on the streets and in the markets , while the floral shops offer only artificial arrangements.
Chuck & Donna Kinsey, Summer Snow
We have just entered the official start of hurricane season in Mexico, which is not exactly what we
came for, or want to experience. The anchorages on Baja offer little to no protection with hurricane holes
almost none existent. The boats summering here usually move to the head of the Gulf. It is
considered safe, but is excruciatingly hot and windless. Rather than motor and melt, we have decided
to join the chicken fleet putting the boat on the hard, and return to the cool Northwest until mid-October.
Our southern departure date will coincide with our level of discomfort. We are really looking forward to
seeing family and friends.
We will put our home on the market in August as we plan to continue to cruise on Summer Snow.
Our plan at present is to buy a small boat for the summers in Puget Sound.
The sunny weather is very pleasant here now, with high 80’s and low 90’s every day cooling to low 60’s in the evenings. Swimming and snorkeling are almost daily routines. Donna has become quite comfortable with the snorkel and fins, examining the colorful under water life. Her collection of shells grows daily, from the waters and our walks on the beaches.
We now rate each day one to ten. If we do nothing it’s a ten, work all day is a one. Our tendency is towards the larger digits. Retirement is wonderful and easy to get into.
The available charts for the Sea of Cortez are extremely poor navigational aids. So we use these in
combination with Charlies Charts, Jack William’s Baja Book, the color of the water, and crossed fingers.
As you can see your next anchorage most of the time, GPS and 30 minute fixes seem not to be required.
If you fear the proceeding bit of information can be used as an excuse you’re right. We had decided with
friends to change harbors one morning. We were leading the way with Donna at the helm. I was fixin’
pancakes below when she inquired if this was our intended destination. Having not been paying attention,
and not having any numbers to operate with, I just assumed that it was.
Radio, "Summer Snow, Summer Snow, this is West Wind. Have we decided not to
try the anchorage we discussed earlier?”
Embarrassed, Donna thought that it would be best if we didn’t use our boat name, but use the
alias Ever Sharp. Whispering into the mic, “West Wind, West Wind, this is
Ever Sharp. Don’t tell anyone, but I don’t have a clue as to where I am."
“Ever Sharp, Ever Sharp, this is West Wind. I think we passed the entrance 2
miles back. If you care to follow me I am confident I can find our way!” Boy I hate smart
navigators! The GPS is in operation now whenever we move the boat.
Small world, Olympia B Dock : Bob and Dana on Skauviga, from Anchorage Alaska, were on the boat in La Paz. He worked out at Nisqually with Elly. Olympia boat Pizzazz, Terry and Carol from East Bay, coming back and going to work. Jean Hart, Jamboo III, out about 5 years, single handing through the canal and Caribbean, from Paulsbo, knows Craig and Bev Brown. We joined a charter Moorings boat on anchor at Isla San Francisco. South Sound Sailing Society fellow members John and Joanne DeMeyer, Balder, and Anne Mathews and Clarence Gadley, Lars Jensen, were on board enjoying a few days in the Sea of Cortez. We enjoyed visiting with them.
Summer Snow lost a cutlass bearing which required a haul out. The cradle, on tracks, was run out to us in about six feet of water. Five yard hands from a panga boarded to help secure side supports for Summer Snow. Half way up the rails the gas power plant stopped. We sat and sat some more. I finally asked, “Amego, what happened?” The answer came, “To much beer, not enough gas, senior.” A short time later a fellow returned with a red can, fed the engine, and we moved ahead into the yard.
Great boat names :
Latest Caper, Comfortably Numb, Force Nothing.
With the exception of paper work, you never use a persons last name. The boat becomes your family name. It is usually long into a friendship before you bother inquiring about their official last name. Boat cards are real handy to have for exchanging.
Hasta Luego, Chuck and Donna, Summer Snow
Turtle Bay on Thanksgiving Day (‘94), we took the dink to shore with friends to inspect the village. The streets are one lane red dust, with a few stones and gullies. There is an assortment of very old rusty cars and pickups, all with bald tires. Just a few appear to be in running condition. The very small houses are packed together with no yard, the front door opening onto the street. The homes in this village are all unpainted plywood with some building paper on the roofs.
Each house has several plastic tanks attached to the roof for water. In the center of town is the water supply, which we do not know the source of. Water is dispensed through a two inch hose hanging from a rusty pipe about pickup bed high. This water is hauled and pumped to the tanks on each house and business. There is no drain system as you see where water exits directly into the street. Almost every home has a TV dish and through open doors we could see groups of people glued to their sets.
Red dust completely covers everything but the people, who all seem to be very clean. Trash and litter adorn the area as no organized collection system seems to be in place. The kids that we encountered dress the same as our youngsters and act likewise. A group of boys followed or walked with us for part of our stroll : asking for candy, giggling, and entertaining us with their antics. Typical sixth graders. We met several teenage girls with attitudes. Guess we should not have been surprised, thought maybe the kids would be more subdued.
There is a fish and lobster processing plant in town which seems to provide the only employment. Each morning at dawn the pangas, powered by 25 hp engines with two or three men on board, roar out for a days work. The wind maybe 30 to 40 kt with high seas, doesn’t stop them at all.
The church, built on a hill at the edge of town over looking the bay, seems to be the center of the community. We stopped by. It was beautiful and absolutely immaculate inside.
We returned to the boat to prepare our part of Thanksgiving dinner. Prepared and packed, we again jumped into the dink and rowed to a friends boat for a dinner feast with all the trimmings. We did have canned ham instead of turkey! What a contrast with two hours ago : what different lives, separated by only 100 yards of water, from our comfort and opulence. We would enjoy Thanksgiving more at home with family, food, and football, paying little or no real attention to our good fortune. The poverty in our country, or the world, is hardly ever honestly considered, but is passed over for the festivities of the day.
Chuck & Donna, Summer Snow