Now that Argonaut is back in the water and I'm happily sleeping (well) again in a bed that moves, there isn't anything blogworthy going on for a while. Since Mexico has been in the news lately, I'm going back there for a visit... Memory lane. Like Jimmi Hendrix said at Woodstock: "I'm just jamin'. You can leave if you like." Rock on...

As soon as you leave San Diego for the overnight sail to Ensenada, the disparities in the two countries is glaringly obvious. UNglaringly, in the case of Mexico. The lights literally go out at the border. From there all the way to Cabo is dark, save a smattering of lights at wide intervals.

Most Yachties stop first in Ensenada to clear into the country on their way south. Bahia Tortugas (Turtle Bay) sits at about the halfway point and makes a convenient refuge and fuel stop before continuing South. Cabo sits at the southern tip; shining like a cheap bellybutton bauble in the navel of (insert your own image here).

We sailed out of San Diego in the company of the S/V Bonny - overnight to Ensenada. Everyone is running around getting visas, boat import permit, Mexican third party liability insurance and often, fishing licenses and fueling up for the long haul to Bahia Tortugas. All that accomplished, everyone starts settling in to enjoy the ambiance and get to know our fellow travelers.

The route going South out of Ensenada for Turtle Bay crosses Bahia Viscano; a large bight halfway down the peninsula. It was here we were spanked by the Santa Ana that sent three boats anchored in Turtle Bay up on the rocks. By the time we arrived two days later, the buzz around town was how Enrique, the local fuel concession baron/bandit braved full gale conditions in his little speedboat to rescue a family with two kids off the rocks. They lost the boat, but saved crew.

Moving on in the company of the Wirlwind and Bonny for Cabo, we stopped in Bahia Santa Maria overnight before finishing the outside of the Baja in Cabo. The Cape (Cabo) has it's own micro-climate. It starts warming up twenty miles out - about where you cross the Tropic of Cancer - and by the time you round Cabo Falso, you can start shedding the fleece for T-shirt and shorts.

If you haven't guessed, I don't like Cabo... or much of anything else about the Baja. Remember... this isn't a documentary. This is my personal opinion. Divers rave about the Sea of Cortez, the Mexicans are typically nice, blah, blah, blah - so go see it for yourself. Make up your own mind.

Cabo irks me for a couple of reasons. We were grudgingly granted the privelege of side tying to the fuel dock for the princely sum of $122 U.S. a night. No power, water unfit for a dog and the charter boats and Pangas start fueling up in the pre-dawn hours. Added to that - the place is utterly devoid of charm. That gives it the distinction, along with Cancun, of being the most un-Mexican city in Mexico. It does; however, have a Costco! Muslims can have their twenty seven virgins in Paradise (sounds more like hell to me). A Cruiser's Paradise is Kirkland canned chicken and American TP! Woo-hoo! Simple pleasures.

We sailed from Cabo, around the southern tip of the Baja, and up into the Sea of Cortez, to La Paz where we spent (were trapped) Christmas. La Paz is definitely Mexican and does have some charm. It also feels the effects of the Screaming Blue Northers that blow down from the Colorado Plateau during the Fall and Winter. Once it let up enough for us to make the forty eight hour crossing to Mazatlan, we were off. I was supposed to meet my daughter, Rachael, for Christmas, but I didn't make it until New Year's Eve day. Not all was lost. We really like Mazatlan and I got to spend time with her before she flew back to the States.

I only took a few pics on the entire Baja voyage. The Barren landscapes don't readily yield pictures. Sorry. For anyone interested in a more technical discussion of Screaming Blue Northers should contact me and we'll do it by email. They actually effect the weather all the way to the Equator.