The end of a dream..

Those words still put a nasty chill down my spine.
The day started like virtually every other one here in La Paz, sunny and warm. It is getting towards the second half of summer, a season here that is filled with concern for all boaters. It is hurricane season. We have all seen the satellite pictures of the huge swirling mass of clouds, the news reels that show in such vivid reality of the loss, and the names Charlie, Katrina, Marty, Sandy, and yes, one even named after my sweetie, Jeanne.

This year there seems to be more talk of what "might be" than I remember in our few years here. Even the long time locals are sweating bullets. The water is warmer than it has ever been, which is what Hurricanes love. Along with the hurricanes comes the Chubascos, fast moving thunder storms that bring moisture over from the mainland of Mexico, across the 85-90 degree water of the Sea of Cortez. These storms, carry lots of lighten/thunder, and usually a lot of rain. And like the every famous Captain Ron says, "They come on ya fast and they leave ya fast".

All this week we have been seeing these storms build all around us, but going past to the east or to the west. Thursday, everything changed. This was a monster sized storm, packing the kind of punch that we all lose sleep over. When it hit Cabo San Lucas there were reports of winds in excess of 80 knots, 50 miles north of there, Los Barillas saw 70's and several water pouts (tornados that occur over water), and here in La Paz we saw winds in the mid 40's. Reduced, but still enough to cause several anchored boats to drag, but no real damage done. 40 miles north of La Paz is a small fishing village, San Evaristo. If you have been following along for some time, you will remember that name as we fell in love with this sleeping little village of roughly 150 fisherman and their families. This is where the rest of the story will all play out.

Thursday afternoon, I was sitting at the desk here in our store, the storm had passed, and all of the boats under out care were all in great shape. I was starting to get notes out to the owners, when I heard on half of a radio call on the VHF. "This is Del Viento, how do you copy me?" Silence "this is Del Viento, I copy you very lightly, please repeat" silence " this is del Viento, I copy that you are in San Evaristo, and your boat has washed ashore, all are safe but the boat is taking on water, is that correct". The worst news any boater can possible hear. The amazing thing is that if you are familiar with VHF radios, they are strictly line of sight, limited to 25 watts of power, and not to be expected to be heard from inside a bay, over 40 miles away!! Michael on SV Del Viento had the only radio in the entire area that had a copy on this poor sailor. He did an amazing job of getting all the information on the boat, and then started to looks for ways to help this very shell shocked sailor.

Another local boater, Will on SV Shaman jumped in and asked Michael to relay that he would make the 3 ½ drive north over incredibly bad (think 4x4) road to pick up the family that was on the boat, along with the three dogs and return them to La Paz.

I was contacted by Christian , on the trimaran Manakie, letting me know that he would be willing to drive to San Evaristo to help recover what every we could. He has a large 1 ton 4x4, full size box pickup truck. I jumped into the radio traffic with Michael, and told him I would get a crew together to go up at first light to help recover as much as we could before the boat sank or broke up.

First thing Friday morning, Myself, Christian, and Michael loaded the truck up with tools and headed north. We were able to make it in 3 ½ hours and set right to taking the boat apart. On our way to the boat, while we still had cell reception, I got a call from Jeanne, who had spoken to Bill, the owner that he wanted to make sure that we got the water maker off.

Having done as complete a re-fit on eagle as we had, and my two companions had each done similar work on their own boats, we knew that there was a lot of very expensive stuff that needed to get off the boat as soon as possible.
We started with the solar panels, and worked our way inside the boat. With my water maker knowledge. I jumped in and started removing this valuable piece (or several pieces in this case) from inside the boat. Now bear in mind, installing a water maker ion the cramped spaces of a sail boat is usually a full two day job. Now, working inside a boat, laying on its side, filled with water, fuel, oil etc added a few of its own challenges. I had the entire system, High Pressure Pump, boost pump, remote panel, and two 40" membrane tubes out in a little over an hour. While I was doing that, every other part of the boat was similarly being attacked. Winches, steering wheel, compass, roller fullers, spinnakers, spare sails, every electrical component, bar-b-ques, antennas, propane tanks, battery switches, bus bars, personal items...the list goes on and on.

We took the mast down, and stripped the rigging, insulators, mast head lights, antennas and fittings all off.

I would be very remiss if I did not make sure to point out how much help Steve and Charlotte on SV Willfull Simplicity were the whole time we were there. They pretty much live in San Evaristo, and do incredible amounts of work both for and with the locals in this little fishing village. They were there from the time we pulled in with the truck, hauling things away for us, bring those of us inside the boat tools, and at the end of the day, arranged to have a very nice cold beer as well. Charlotte has more photos that I will post once they get back into La Paz.

At 5:30 that evening, we stopped.




There was just nothing left that we could do. The fuel in the tanks would go to the locals to run their water maker plant. The local mechanic would somehow pull the engine out, and the mast was left to one of the fisherman. I am pretty sure that next time we are there, a bright shiny new aluminum flag pool will be erected. The remaining stainless steel will be used on the various pangas. In the end, the village will remove every part of the boat that can be used, as is the culture here in Mexico. Nothing goes to waste.
And in the end, there will be only that very part of a dream, the part where it all starts. A little bit of fiberglass....the hull, the place where it all began, however many years ago. A place where every sailboat gets to start out as someone's dream. Our dreams can be fleeting, hard to catch, and sometimes even harder to hold on to. This was one man's dream, a dream of years or possibly decades. And it was all gone in minutes.