And now we head back to La Paz after our delightful week in The Sea, to clean and scrub and ready the boat for Allan's dad Grant, and his wife, Phyllis, who arrive Monday. We have, as always, a list that flutters to the ground in it's length of things that need fixing, buying, reworking. We'll have a busy few days, then back out, we hope, to Isla Espiritu Santo with Grant and Phyllis.

We decided to stay an extra night in Agua Verde, and were invited to join 2 other couples on a walk to town the long way -- up the hill and around by the valley and over the crag and down to the town, for supplies and freshly made goat cheese.

We stocked up at Maria's little tienda on onions, eggs, bananas, cookies and cold sodas, then headed off in the warm, dusty afternoon to the goat farm for cheese. Goats roam about untethered and unrestrained, spotted and mottled, big and small, sleeping in furry goat piles under trees, climbing over logs, with long floppy ears and that endearing goat curiosity. They are so sweet, especially the babies -- what girl can resist a baby anything, but I am especially fond of soft, fuzzy baby goats and their tiny little bleat, and the way they butt their heads into your knees.

The goat cheese is soft and fresh, made that morning, quite a gourmet treat. Our next stop: the tortilleria, which is a local family's small kitchen. We are graciously offered chairs in the shade by the host, and rest comfortably while 24 tortillas are hand patted one-by-one to perfect uniformity and fried in the cast iron pan. We while away the 45 minutes it takes to make the tortillas, sipping sodas, talking flying ("There I was ...") with Russ, a retired pilot with an encyclopedic volume of stories from his career. He and his wife Jodey share their life with 2 miniature guard dogs, Lucy and Taco on Smoke N Blues.

On our walk back we took the beach route (the "short" way) which was actually long and slippery on the moss-covered rocks, but fun, followed by a little boat-envy visiting, a common past time amongst boaters. Come see ours, we'll check out yours --mutual appreciation and oohing and aahing at the features and the ingenuity and creativity of each unique boat and it's occupants. Then Russ and Jodey joined us for wine and goat cheese with salsa on those still-warm tortillas, and we shared more flying stories as the evening melted to dark.

We readied ourselves for a morning departure and did some reading, then slept well until the wind kicked up at around 1am, which always gets my head out of the hatch to check our position and make sure the anchor is holding. So far, no dragging.

We passed behind Smoke N Blues as Russ enthusiastically waved us off with a cheerful flurry of Navy hand signals, then raised our sails and headed south. The sail downwind from Agua Verde was very satisfying, we've been doing so much motoring due to little or no wind, or a direct headwind, that it was gratifying to get the sails up, set the whisker pole, and watch the speed climb to over 8 knots. (Pilot friends are saying, "8 knots? EIGHT?) A slight norther was blowing, so the seas were big, up to 8 feet at times, and the wind was gusty, but we loved it. Once inside the San Jose Channel, the seas calmed down, the wind settled to 18-23kts., and it was a nice slide into The Hook at Isla San Francisco, where we joined a mini- cruise ship thing with multiple jet skies, a tender almost the size of Fly Aweigh, and a nice party going long into the night.

We are trying not to fall prey to the lure of our extensive DVD collection and our recliner chairs, to develop other ways to spend our time, but we're weak. So we watched "Seven Pounds" and I think I cried seven gallons of tears. Great film. I went to bed wondering what organs I can donate and still lead a happy life...

3 hours to go to La Paz, and Allan is a fish-catching-maniac today, 3 in a row. Just as he cleaned up the last drop of blood from the previous catch, another would bite. Maybe by the third I'm not so squeamish, but I admit I'm such a baby when it comes to fishing and blood all over the transom and the sound of the poor bugger flopping for all he's worth as Allan tries to numb him with Scotch (Black Velvet, no less) and whack him with the fish bonker. We looked in the fish book and decided they're Mexican little tunny, also known as a black skipjack. Next, I'll figure out how to cook them. Dark red meat, much like a rich-looking tuna, the book says it's good eatin'. Allan's happy -- providing for his family so we don't have to resort to canned tuna from Trader Joe's.

I'll post these blurbs from the last week, Allan will update the photo gallery, and we'll send an update the next time something fun happens. For now, Happy Holiday season to you! Today I think I'll put up some Christmas decorations, all the little boat-related ornaments I saved from our collection before storing them away, and a little Christmas tree I can stick down with tacky gum stuff. Fa la la la etc.!