Our 4 days at Catalina Island was probably exactly what we needed after months of busy preparation - quiet and rather dull. The sky was gray most of the time, save the 20 minutes I took that beautiful picture of the casino, the was weather cool, and the summer crowds were gone. The mooring fields at both Isthmus and Avalon were wide open. We read, napped, strolled the town, marveled at the golf carts and tiny vehicles this little community sports, ate $2 tacos at the Sand Trap by the golf course. On a walk past the cute houses we found a tile mural affixed to the front of a house that we recognized immediately: "Alison's Reef", a watercolor my mom painted for me many years ago, digitally reproduced and printed on 4" tiles! Must have been taken from her website. But knowing my mom, she wouldn't care about having her art stolen, she'd have been flattered.

The main event for our few days there was to test our dive gear. We've been so busy at home, and the weather so foggy and cold, we didn't have the chance. So we snagged a mooring right next to the casino and adjacent to the protected dive park, where you can swim with the bored, giant sea bass and weave around the graceful kelp. We hauled the dive tanks out of the forward locker, dug out all the gear, squeezed into our brand-new wet suits, set up the tanks and regulators and buoyancy compensators, and turned on the air only to discover that my tank was empty. Allan's tank - empty. We checked the 3rd - empty. And the 4th, half full. Not, of course, what we expected - they'd been hydro'd and filled a few months prior in Ventura, and bore the appropriate labels to prove it, but somehow the air was gone.

But since our objective was just to test the gear, and not go deep or long or far from the boat, ½ tank would be fine. Once I had my gear on and Allan was checking it all out, we noticed the dive computer we borrowed from our friend Pat wasn't working. Then, the air hose completely separated from my BC. Plastic fitting failure. My fabulous pink Sea Quest that I've had for, oh, a lotta decades, finally threw in the towel. So Allan took the ½ tank and we set off for a quick swim in the dive park, me floating top cover in mask and snorkel, Allan 20 feet down in scuba gear. Turns out, his BC has a slow leak, and my new wet suit is too small, the water was murky and the cloudy sky left everything dull and gray under water. It didn't take long before we turned around and called the entire thing an abysmal failure. Diving is a lot of work, getting it all out and on and in the water, and equally difficult getting it all off, and rinsed, and hung to dry. Suffice it to say our moods were as gray as the day.

We left Avalon on Thursday morning for our next 11-hour passage to San Diego, which went smoothly (Critter Sighting: a huge pod of Risso's dolphin - strange and beautiful whale-like dolphin with square, flat faces and slow, graceful movements) and dropped anchor in time for the last of the sunset in the anchorage outside the harbor, off the beach from the Hotel del Coronado. A quiet night there and the next morning we moved to an inner anchorage near Shelter Island. The water was dead calm and the day was sunny and perfect, and our moods greatly improved. We love the nautical energy of Shelter Island and looked forward to wandering around, popping into the chandelries and getting boat-related errands done. I had some shopping to do, a wet suit to ship back, and a quick stop at an urgent care to check a minor injury, and the first day was gone.

We had a fabulous dinner at the San Diego Yacht Club, where a big soiree was in full swing on the gorgeous tall ship America, swallowing up the entire guest dock (and the reason we were in the anchorage and not on the guest dock.) The San Diego Yacht Club is a club to behold - they have a waiting list for memberships that takes years, maybe lifetimes, with a preference for young members (we heard it's more expensive to join if you're old!), has a thriving sailing program, tennis and pickleball courts, a pool, huge facilities, and a great restaurant. We felt lucky to be a part of it for a few days, one of the lovely perks of reciprocal yacht club membership.

In the afternoon we found a little shop that fills dive tanks and popped in with some questions. It was 3:00 and the shop closed at 3:30, but the sole proprietor, Michael, said "Go get 'em! I'll wait, I've got nothing going on!" So we ran back to the dinghy, zoomed back to the boat, grabbed the wheely buggy thing and 2 of the 4 tanks, dinghied back to the yacht club, dragged the tanks to the shop in the wheely buggy thing, only to find doors locked and nobody in evidence. We waited and bit and then sure enough around the corner he came, laden with cold drinks and a huge grin, apologized for being late, and set about looking at the tanks. Turns out they hadn't been properly cleaned around the lip, so the seal was bad and the air had leaked out. He carefully scraped the salt and corrosion and explained what he was doing and told us his life story and talked about boats and fishing and showed me his new cool mask and refilled the tanks and then ... when I mentioned my recently failed BC, ran into the back and came out with a newer Mares BC and gave it to me. "Here," he said, "a guy gave me this, I have three of them back there, I don't know if it works but take it." And then, as we loaded the refilled tanks and BC into the wheely buggy thing, he refused to take any money from us. He stayed late, saved our dive gear, turned me on to the coolest new mask I can't wait to try, gave me a $400 BC, and refused any payment. He's my new favorite guy on Shelter Island, so if you're there and need tanks filled/serviced, or just want to have a fun chat, say hi to Michael at The Tank Drop.

The next morning, Sunday, 6am, exactly 7 days to the minute from when we left Oxnard, we arose to a clear, still morning and were ready for our 11-hour passage to Ensenada, dive gear stowed, passage gear out, coffee made, and ... the port engine won't start. It won't even click-click-click. It won't nothing. We wondered if the boat was trying to tell us something. It was almost as though it, and we, and our dive gear had all grown too old and sedentary in the prior few years, and this cruising thing was just a whole lotta trouble.

But when we're on task, we're on task. We had our haul-out date the next morning at the Baja Naval boat yard in Ensenada, an appointment we made months ago, and didn't want to miss it since the lift and space in the yard can sometimes be booked out for, well, I don't know for how long, but we didn't want to miss it. So, choices:

1. Go with one engine. Not a big deal, once we're out of the harbor we usually run only one and then alternate for engine life and fuel efficiency. But, maneuvering on one engine poses certain challenges in tight quarters, since the thrust is asymmetrical and the rudders can only do so much to compensate at slow speeds, like, when you're trying to dock in a tight space with scary ugly poles sticking out of the water and wind blowing you in a way that is decidedly not helpful.

2. Stay in San Diego, in the boating mecca of the west coast, where parts are (theoretically) available and help is at hand.

We try to avoid falling prey to "get-there-itis" but after some yin-yangs and pro-cons, we opted for #1, giving Allan 11 hours to tear into the suspected problem - the starter motor - and hopefully fix it en route.

At 6:45am we officially logged our departure and left the quiet harbor for the Mexican border, which slipped by pretty much unnoticed. Allan took parts of the starter motor apart, cleaned contacts, cleaned other things that somehow matter in relation to the engine, put it back on, and lo and behold, it started! We patted him on the back and gave him kudos for being mechanically brilliant. We ran that engine for awhile, then switched to the starboard engine, then successfully started the the port engine, and finally another switch to the starboard for the last few hours.

We arrived a bit before sunset, and as we rounded the corner into the wide harbor, Allan went to start the port engine, and ... nothing. Not even a click-click-click. Damn. Now we had to contend with the scary ugly poles sticking out of the water just abeam where we had to park the boat, but luckily the wind was in our favor. We hollered at a sailor on a nearby boat to catch our lines, and he waited patiently as we side-stepped on one engine toward the dock, slowly - slowly, letting the light wind help push us closer. I apologized to our patient line-catcher, to which he replied "If you're not bored, you're not doing it right!" Words to ponder. When we were finally tied up safely to Dock A1 at Baja Naval, we made our introductions - Gunnar, Alison, Allan - nice to meet you - where are you from? Germany - Oxnard - what are your plans? Blah blah blah, nice to meet you! And we proceeded to bed down the boat for the night and enjoy some quiet after 11 hours of motoring.

But, the malecón, the wide walkway along the harbor in Ensenada, is not a quiet place on a Sunday! The huge mariachi band, with a horn section, drums, multiple guitars, and numerous well-seasoned singers, was in full swing, sounding at times like a German oompah band. Families strolled along the malecón, dressed in their Sunday best, little girls all fancied up with flouncy dresses and bows in their hair, little boys chasing after remote-controlled cars or tossing small balls around. The sun set behind the industrial-looking port, looking gorgeous in the warm, clear air, ignoring the chaos of cranes and containers stacked 5-high and commercial boats of all kinds.

So now we're in the boat yard, our short catamaran keels set on 2 huge chunks of wood with 4 metal things propping up the ends. 2 new starter motors have been ordered and we have a crafty plan to get them here in the next week. The too-small wet suit has been exchanged for a slightly bigger one. I have the "new" BC. The tanks are filled. A fresh new 9-volt battery powers the dive computer. My new mask is on it's way. We met some folks here in the boat yard and they invited us to join the Ensenada Cruisers gang at their weekly 2-for-1 margarita night. Sitting outside, sipping mango margaritas, listening to everyone's story, their adventures, enthusiasm and laughter - it revved us all up again and reminded us that we're not too old, we're not ready for the pasture, we love this cruising life, and most importantly, it reminded us why the whole lotta trouble is worth the all the trouble.

PS: Photo Gallery - pending! I have a lot of photos and it takes time to upload, so, soon!