With things as ready as they'd ever be, the big day rolled around for departure from San Diego. Mabrouka was in pretty good shape and her paperwork was at least complete enough to give the impression of good intentions. Dave Milligan, being a San Diego local, was coming from his Ocean Beach home just across Point Loma and didn't move aboard until departure day. Mary McCarthy had flown in from Santa Cruz on the 25th, so had been aboard for a couple of days.

We were all chomping at the bit to set off. After striking a few memorable poses aboard Mabrouka for the camera, we cast off the lines an hour before the scheduled kick-off parade so that we could spend at least a few minutes together honing our crew skills before hitting the high seas. It was an exciting time that generated more than a few butterflies in my stomach.

The bay got crowded in a hurry, with somewhere around 120 boats marshaling at the northern end of Shelter Island for the procession southward across a start line that was marked by the press boat at one end and fireboats spewing water at the other. It was somewhat amazing, but I know of no collisions. CNN was there, but I haven't heard if Mabrouka made it into their sound bite.

The Baja Ha-Ha is loosely organized as a race, though that's really a laugh in every sense of the word. (It's most dramatic effect was to increase rates for anyone that told their insurance company of their participation.) Every boat is on the honor system to keep track of the time it takes to transit each leg from start to finish, tallying motoring time versus sailing time. When there's not enough wind to get boats moving, the Grand Poobah of the Baja Ha-Ha can call a rolling start that allows the use of engines without penalty.

Such was the case when we set off for Mexico on the morning of October 27th, so the beginning of Mabrouka's Big Adventure was anticlimactic in the extreme. The real start was beyond the breakwater about two hours later. It was less of a melee than the parade in the unrestricted waters outside. With no wind, the Poobah (as we familiars know him) called a rolling start.

It was a beautiful day, though, with the bright blue sky reflecting off the sparkling water and the nearby Coronado Islands rising as we approached. Inside the islands or outside was the strategic choice to be made and I wavered, for some time the Libra in me considered compromise and going between them. I think the wind was still blowing straight down (Get it? Straight down? Not left or right, this way or that. It's a sailing thing.) for either route, so I opted for shortest distance and stayed on the mainland side.