After all the fun and excitement of the previous two weeks -- the diversions, the weather, the towing adventure, the crew changes, the passport issues, the expensive craziness of Cabo, and the end of the Baja Ha Ha -- we finally found some peace and quiet and a little down time in Bahia Los Frailes, around the corner to the east from Cabo San Lucas and Los Cabos. We spent the first day sleeping in and then taking naps. We made a vain attempt at going scuba diving, and to our credit, we did get as far as unearthing all the gear from the belly of this whale and trying out our new air compressor to refill the scuba tanks, but the closest we got was a nice, easy snorkeling trip before we returned for another nap.

The next day was a bit more energetic: we managed to actually don said dive gear and head for the same spot of ocean we'd snorkeled in the day before. This time we were able to go a bit deeper, averaging 35 feet, in an ocean teeming with life. Thousands of metallic silver Jacks, looking like gray silk-suited businessmen, seriously endeavoring to do whatever it is Jacks do with such synchronized purpose, massive schools of small, shiny bait fish, harems of Parrot fish, tiny neon blue fish, the occasional Spotted Ray, and large Grouper slowly patrolling beneath us made the dive quite engaging.

A bit later, the restorative powers of the previous days naps still taking effect, Allan threw all his windsurfing gear in the water and zorched around the bay. Greg, our Coastie friend, said "Here's a guy who sailed 1,000 miles just to get on a smaller boat with a smaller sail" or something to that effect. The irony of it all, it's really lost on me at this point. But it was fun to see him doing what he loves almost more than anything, and in 83 degree water, no less. Paradise.

Next day was an 8-hour motor up to Bahia de los Muertos, where we met up for dinner with one of my compadres from United Airlines, Rick, who lives in La Paz and commutes to work in Los Angeles. He joined us with his son, and friend Robert, and we caught up on news of things at UAL (not missing much, it seems) and on our journey so far. It was strange and comforting at the same time to be making a connection with my on-hold professional life while in this wild, make-up-free remote realm. Like putting two sides of myself together, not sure they fit. But it was great to see Rick, and we made plans to hook up in La Paz when we arrived...

... which was a few days later after a lovely sail up the coast along huge sand dunes and through the windy straight between Las Ventanas on the Baja peninsula and beautiful Isla Cerralvo. We have a little halo, I think, because things seem to work out for us at the last minute, in this case by getting a slip in one of the marinas even without a reservation in the high season. We settled into the berth and then headed off for a sweaty walk along the malecón to the bus station where we picked up my mom, Margy, fresh in from her adventure in San Carlos on Iron Maiden.

Today Rick picked us up and gave us a tour of the city, followed by a trip out to a beautiful splotch of land a mile inland that he and his son are developing, a real treat. They are doing all the right things with this land, and it will be a solid, well-built residential community with enviable views of a rich landscape -- tall, stately Cordon cactus and pea-green Palo Verde bushes yield to a sweeping view of La Paz bay and the city. Reminded us of parts of Santa Fe, NM only with an ocean nearby.

We topped of the day with a yummy dinner in town, and here we are, Allan enhancing his knowledge on how to get the proper weather charts on line, Margy perusing the Panama Guide, and me, well, here I am, blogging. It's been a quiet few days. We'll hole up here for a few more while a "norther" blows through, then head for Islas Espiritu Santos until Friday. Margy heads home Saturday to rescue Harry the Cat from boredom and resume her life in Oxnard. As for us, we plan to get the hang of La Paz and environs for a month or so, subject to the usual revisions as life throws us those inevitable curious curves.