CURRENT LOCATION: On a mooring ball near the reef in Ensenada Dakity
18 17.591' N, 065 16.791' W

It is Wednesday at 8AM and we are already off the boat. I taxied Sheryl over to Mosquito Bay in the early morning light and dropped her off at the beach. She hiked up to Villa Margarita to continue her work on preparing this property for eventual rental. Sheryl spent the day hanging blinds and sewing curtains. Meanwhile, I went back to the boat and got ready for school. Shortly after 10AM, I took the long dinghy ride to town and taught my class. The trip back to Mosquito Bay involved a short stop at the boat to change into my swim trunks then it was onward to tackle my pool cleaning duties.

After I completed my job and covered the pool, I walked the short distance up the hill to Villa Margarita. It was approaching 5PM, and my mind recalled a time, not-so-long-ago, when both Sheryl and I were both engaged in gainful employment. Back when our lives were 'normal.' Now, it is hard for me to believe that we used to experience days like this 5 days per week, every week. It felt as though it had been ages since I dropped her off for work this morning. I, quite sincerely, missed her. It is good that Wednesdays are currently our only truly 'busy' day each week.

Even thought today's working timetable brought to mind the schedule of separate pursuits which harkens back to days of yore, the environment is certainly different now than it was back then. Sheryl and I commute across multicolored blue waters to arrive at our respective places of work, rather than battle highway traffic or wait in airport security lines. Inside Villa Margarita, with all the windows open, a fresh tradewind breeze blows through the house, not at all like a cube in a stuffy office. Sheryl can see the rain showers over St. Thomas in the background while Culebrita sits bathed in sunlight in the foreground before her as she sits working at the sewing machine. And, I have the solace of sitting in a freshwater pool while slowly pushing a vacuum on a pole around the bottom. With a mask and snorkel on, I enjoy the sensory deprivation of being totally submerged in warm water while I work. Neither is a bad way to earn a buck.

When I, at last, laid eyes on Sheryl this evening, she asked, "Where were you at 10:30?!?" I replayed the busy day in my mind and responded that I had probably just reached town in the dinghy around 10:30AM. With wide eyes, she told me of the waterspouts she had witnessed marching across the mouth of Mosquito Bay at that time. We have often seen these funnel formations protruding downward from the clouds, and each time we watch their progress across the horizon with a certain degree of trepidation.

On this occasion, however, Sheryl saw the surface of the water explode in a tornadic dervish. Our first such sighting. As you can see from the lead photo and the photos below, it was pretty dramatic. Not only that, but the cyclones passed within a mile of where Prudence was tethered to a mooring ball, floating unattended at Dakity. I guess I am glad I was not there to witness these vortices of potential destruction. I am also glad that their destructive capabilities still remains a theoretical notion in our minds. No persons or sailboats were harmed during the passing of these 'tornadoes over water.'