There's a bossy voice in my head - the one that gets me through all the tough stuff - a relentless task-master, critic, guide, and supporter, going full speed-ahead as the muscles in my legs strain to keep me balanced on the squirrely wing foil board. "Up, go UP! No, too high, go down! Slowly, s-l-o-w-l-y --- that's it, now land it ... touch down! Nice! Now take off... just a few inches, NO! Inches, not feet! Aaaah, we're too high! Ease it down, down, stay straight - go slow - lean back - sit forward - relax, - no don't relax! Ahhh! Losing it, losing it - face plant imminent!" Colossal water crashes happen roughly every 3 minutes. Luckily, I like salt water. I have good protective gear on - my helmet is bright orange, and my vest is floaty, so after a crash I bob happily in the water, which is a lovely temperature. Allan patiently and repeatedly circles back, dragging the floating tow rope behind while I climb back aboard our used beginner wing foil board, grab tow the handle, and reset for another go. I'm getting better at understanding what it feels like, and more importantly what it sounds like to taxi, take off, fly around, and land.

Allan drags me around for awhile, then we switch and I drag him around. The bay here in Agua Verde is perfect for this, large and mostly flat for the last few days, so we can get to know the characteristics of the board and the foil. Since he's spent thousands of hours successfully taming a windsurfer in the last 40 years, taken a few kite board and surfing lessons, and done a bit of wake boarding, he's no stranger to a board. He's getting good at standing up, keeping his balance, and transitioning to taking off and flying around on the foil. Me, I'm a dork, and other than multiple, earnest but utterly failed attempts at trying to windsurf in our early years, I'm not too experienced on boards. I love the water but usually it's just me and it with a mask and snorkel. But, I'm having a blast! It's so fun to hear the sound of the board as it lifts up, the splashy sound eases and and there's a sweet whoosh sound, the board gliding just above the choppy surface, the wing literally creating lift in the water. It's an amazing flying-carpet feeling. We no doubt pissed off a few boat neighbors as we zoomed around the anchorage, but I feel confident we also gave them some satisfying cocktail hour enjoyment. Who doesn't like to watch glorious water crashes?

Beyond a our questionable foray into winging, we've been busy here in Agua Verde. We've been swimming, kayaking, napping, eating really well, and having roof-top sunset views in our comfy West Marine folding chairs. We spent a few days in the company of our friends on Eos, who we met in Ensenada last December and sailed down the Baja with in January. They love Agua Verde, and have been here at least 3 times this season, staying for weeks at a time, never even getting their dinghy down off the deck - just paddling around with the dogs on their SUP's, swimming and enjoying fish tacos on the beach. They've now headed north, and literally minutes after we said our goodbyes, our friends on Kama Hele showed up and anchored in the very same spot. We caught up on some of their adventures and after a few days they sailed south.

We've had some great time with the Monson's on Wippy - lovely getting to know this family! We met in Oxnard last fall. They had just bought their boat and were moving their 3 kids aboard for a planned 2-year hiatus from "normal" life. They left in October and we didn't catch up to them again until February in Tenacatita. Now here we are together in beautiful Agua Verde. "We've moved here" mom Rudi said, meaning, "Not sure where we're going next, or when, but right now, we're here." In addition to the great hikes, we shared some spectacular meals. They are also vegans and we cook alike - the same weird meals that most people consider, well, weird, we all dive into with relish. We had them over for my vegan burgers (shaped like hot dogs because I only had hot dog buns) with all the classic trimmings, Eos joined us with a delicious quinoa salad, Wippy brought potato salad, and Logan, the family baker, proudly passed her crispy-chewy peanut butter cookies. They had us over one evening for a thoughtfully-prepared, delicious 5-course meal including no actual cheese mac n' cheez and a gorgeous tofu chili, ending with Lo's oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, chewy and rich and seriously decadent. We sipped on home-brewed jamaica tea, made from the sour flowers of the hibiscus - a readily available thing in produce markets in Mexico, sweetened with sugar. (Astute readers will note that we claim to be vegans but we wax on about good ceviche and fish tacos. Yup, it's true - we're mostly vegan but it's hard to be vegan in this country, plus, we love a good fish taco, and we've been known to eat an occasional steak.)

There's an ever-changing array of interesting people here. We met a couple and their dog who came down from Alaska in their van. They'd been camped out on the beach for weeks, enjoying the view of, well, us, as we enjoyed the view of them. We were mutually curious. They had a lot of tech support: a large flatbed trailer held solar panels and, we surmised, batteries. They had tarps and chairs and a BBQ of course, and carpets to spread out on the sand between their front door and the beautiful sea. They had tools, so many tools! One day they met the Monson family, who mentioned a water maker problem on their boat. So he took his inflatable dinghy out to their boat with his tools and his knowledge and his giant heart and fixed a wiring issue. The Monson's mentioned they were leaving soon to go to Loreto because their propane tank was getting low. No problem! He had lots. Filled their tank and allowed them to stay put a while longer. His wife made beautiful beaded and knotted bracelets for the kids. They heard about the cruiser net that 11-year-old Riv started here in Agua Verde every morning on Ch 22 at 8am, and one morning I announced to the fleet that I'd lost my beloved Oakley sunglasses overboard, in case anyone found them. He had tuned in, heard my plea, and offered to get his dive gear out and conduct an extensive search! (We'd already tried, though, no luck ...) They finally packed up all their stuff and headed north on a month-long journey back to Alaska. Even though we'd barely met them, we miss their presence there on the beach.

We met a woman on the trail, a long-time ex-pat resident who was sure that Venus, that bright planet roughly 25 million miles away, had moved as a result of chem trails.

Aside from the long-term campers and their elaborate campsites - some with solar-powered light strings - this beach seems to attract car clubs. Or rather, off-road vehicle clubs. There was a pickup club of some sort, 15-ish nice looking trucks came roaring down the steep, rough road and lined up, evenly-spaced, truck beds facing the sea. They milled about for maybe an hour or two and then left, just a lunch stop, we supposed. A few days later a Ford Bronco club came down the hill, lined up side-by-side, stayed a few hours, and left in tight formation, peeling off one at a time. And then the dune buggy club came. They were a different crowd, blasting loud music, wearing helmets and looking like they wanted to cause some trouble. They came in the early evening, parked will-nilly on the beach in no discernible formation, and then up went the tents. Uh oh, we thought, gonna be a noisy night, but it was fine - they were probably beat! They spent a quiet evening on the beach and made a disorganized departure at 6am the next morning.

Agua Verde, which is quiet and remote, has 3 restaurants. Three! Two sit in the middle of the long beach and one way down at the bottom. We've been devoted to Brisas del Mar, smack in the middle and owned for many years by lifetime local Leonora. The roughly-built structure with a palm-frond roof and simple wooden tables is the perfect place to sit with toes in the sand, sipping limonada con agua mineral, margaritas, or cold beer. The fish can't be much fresher - once a few years ago lunch took a particularly long time, and finally we learned why. As we sat there perusing our laptops on Leonora's free wifi (pre-Starlink) a panga landed on the beach and a large yellow tail was lifted out and proudly displayed as the fisherman walked by. Half an hour later - fabulous fish lunch! The walls of the palapa are festooned with with chunks of wood or other found objects with boat names written or etched onto them, and shell wind chimes hang overhead, clinking in the breeze. Visitors passing down the Baja come to eat there, braving the rough road in pickup trucks and dune buggies, parking right on the beach in front of the restaurant.

The new restaurant up the beach, Puerto Bella, is excellent as well - the fish tacos and ceviche are fabulous. Owned by Benicio and Rosa, also life-long residents of tiny Agua Verde, they opened just a year-and-a-half ago. We've been here a week and eaten at Puerto Bella 4 times. I can't comment on the little place at the bottom end of the beach, since we've only been once, many years ago.

I always love our critter encounters: on one hike with the Monson's we saw cows, a burro, a tiny snake, and a dead baby cow that had keeled over 2 feet from the road and been left to disappear, leaving only bones and leather. One afternoon, sitting at Leonora's we all leapt up to investigate an uncommon sight - goats on the beach! A herd of goats was confidently wandering down the beach on the edge of the water, flopping their adorable Yoda ears, looking a bit out of place, like they were all on their first seaside vacation, stopping occasionally to take sips of the salty sea. They were too shy to engage, but they gave us a nod as they passed. And pelicans. This morning, hundreds, dive-bombing and feasting on the huge schools of fish that look like black clouds in the shallow turquoise water, with seagulls and cormorants tangled into the mix, staying close to catch the spoils. Oh, and we have a pet gecko! He's a tiny little thing, maybe 2 inches long, we call him "Gecko" because we haven't come up with a better name. He lives under the microwave and comes out in the evenings. If he gets caught, he freezes, then sneaks back under the microwave when we're not looking. He's been with us for almost 2 months now. Although he should mainly be eating bugs, I leave him a little tiny blob of mango paste in a spoon at night, and most nights, he eats it!

The air here is perfect. Not too hot, not too dry. Cloudy some days. Cool at night, it was 62 degrees one morning, and windy! Bliss. The water is clear, a tiny bit cool but lovely after 30 seconds, a nice place to play, jump in for a refresh, run through the water maker, and just look at. It really is agua verde - a beautiful blue-green. If you stay here long enough, you see a constantly-changing collection of boats, campers, car clubs. Friends come, they go. Giant mega yachts cruise through, looking for a perfect spot, sometimes they stay for a night, sometimes they move on. They bay is large enough to have lots of little corners to tuck into, and everyone seems to have their favorite spot.

Soon, we'll be moving on to the next place. We like Rudi's "we're here now" attitude and not projecting too far into the future. Weather dictates our path, and there are about 100 cool places to move on to in what's left of our time here in the Sea of Cortez. We won't hit them all! Heading for Puerto Escondido for groceries and laundry next, and then out to the islands and up the coast a bit more. In the time we have left, we'd like to wing foil a few more times, maybe use up the air in our dive tanks for one last dive, and just see what else presents itself.

A new collection of photos in the Gallery!

And, as always, our position:
PredictWind Position

People say, "Ugh! I can't keep up with your life!" and I say, "I know! Me either!" I guess we just like variety, and challenge. Maybe we're nuts. Maybe we're incapable of sitting still. Maybe we're just carpe diem-ing before we're too old. I sometimes think our careers as pilots, constantly on the go, packing for different places every time, working with different people, and dealing with ever-changing events has ingrained in us a restlessness that doesn't tolerate stability. Whatever the reason, it makes writing a blurb somewhat difficult if I wait too long to cover the events. But let me try:

Last we met, we were enjoying some quiet time in Bahia de los Muertos. We took a wing foiling class which inspired us enough to realize we needed some gear, so we made a list of used items to seek out in the near future. From there we moved up to La Paz. Thinking we'd save a bit of money by avoiding the pricy marina for a few days, we decided to anchor in the infamous "magote" near our friends on Eos, who'd been there off and on over the last few months. The magote, the main anchorage in the huge bay is known for a wind-and-current conflict that can, at times, cause boats to move wildly at anchor, known affectionately as "the La Paz Waltz." The strong current, which comes and goes with the tides, moves you down-current until you reach the end of your anchor chain, then wind whips you around and you sail back the other way to the end of your chain again, then back on the current, and so on, the anchor being the hapless victim in this dance. Sometimes the anchor loses and yanks out, boats go adrift, and from what we hear, it's not unusual to see bumpage into other boats. Bumpage is bad, especially when nobody is aboard. Since all boats are different - different hulls, anchors, amount and weight of chain, etc. they don't always move together. It's more like modern dance than a structured waltz.

But we thought, heck it can't be THAT bad! So we anchored right next to Eos and invited Andy and Louise and the pups over for sundowners. Well, it was that bad. Fly Aweigh moved very differently from the boats around us, sometimes putting us at a 90-degree angle to our neighbor, who happened to be Eos, whose owners happened to be aboard. Our cocktail hour was not dull, especially when we came so close to Eos we could see the barnacles on the bottom. Suffice it to say, we opted for the pricey slip the next day, and thankfully Neil, guardian of slips at Marina La Paz, was able to cram us back into the same spot we had in December betwixt a few giant mega yachts. By the way, it's not like that every night in the magote, only when tides and wind are strong and in opposite directions. But we needed to be in a slip soon enough anyhow, as we had a 3-week trip planned to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary and then home to see mom, family, dentists, docs and a few boat-related errands.

But first, a trip out to La Ventana, the wind-sport mecca of the world, to buy some used wing foiling gear. We got Allan an impact vest, and bought a used board and a few wings. We had some good catch-up time with Ricardo and Kathy in La Paz, who loaned us their truck, and a few other friends we've made along the way, got groceries (if we'd just stop eating, this incessant grocery shopping could end!) and did laundry (ditto wearing clothes!) In the laundromat, I met an English guy who was in the midst of an adventure on his motorcycle, riding solo from the top of Alaska to the tip of South America. And he was awed by our life!

After a week we packed our bags and headed off for a 20th celebration of marital bliss (or chaos) and decided, after much deliberation, to spend a few days at ... wait for it ... Disneyland! Yes we did. I know, the irony of being on a boat in the beautiful Sea of Cortez with so many fun things to do, and we choose Disneyland. No explanation there, it just sounded fun. And it was! We splurged on a room in the adjacent Grand Californian hotel, and thanks to a bit of a military discount, scored a 3-day pass with the complicated Lightening Pass option, got to know the extensive Disneyland app, without which you really can't survive the place, and set out to have some serious adult fun. We started off with corn dogs. Yes, we did. With mustard, and a white shirt. You know how that went. We roller-coasted, Haunted Mansion-ed, Star Wars world-ed and Pirates of the Caribbean-ed for 3 solid days and never even saw half of it. It was great fun seeing all the matching t-shirts families would have printed up - "Jones Family Disneyland Trip 2025!" and the endless variety of mouse ears. The mouse ears, who knew??? What was once a set of black plastic ears stapled to a felt cap with your name embroidered on the back are now, well, anything. I won't waste too much time describing them because I'll put just a few of them in the photo gallery.

After we'd eaten every kind of junk food (a vegan option on every single menu, that's progress!) rode virtually every ride, walked an average of 20,000 steps per day, had a lovely anniversary dinner at the Blue Bayou restaurant in the Pirates of the Caribbean, and explored the many little nooks and crannies of Tom Sawyer's Island, we headed for home.

We spent 10 days in Oxnard, with Allan sick for all but the first 3. That was unfortunate, we had to cancel quite a few social engagements, including time with his mom, who was about the #1 person on his list to spend time with on this trip. But they chatted on the phone (he sounded so awful that each time they spoke she'd assert her opinion that he not come near her) and I ran around in tight circles getting lots checked off my to-do list, including buying my own impact vest and some knee pads, and finally we flew back to La Paz to ready Fly Aweigh for the last phase of her season in Mexico, a month in the Sea of Cortez.

That's where we are now, currently motoring on a flat sea between Isla San Francisco and Los Gatos. It feels so fabulous to finally be out here in what I consider the best part of cruising and sailing in Mexico. The mainland is fun, La Paz is a great town, but once you start heading north into the Sea, things just feel better. The vistas are spectacular, in a desert-y kind of way, tans and reds and strata and all things geological. I like to say it's like sailing in New Mexico. The sunsets are amazing. The critters are abundant. The last few days in Isla San Francisco we were surrounded by billions of fish, swimming in tight silvery schools. We jumped in the water yesterday morning and were surrounded, as far as the eye could see. The pelicans are in heaven in this bay, with dive-bomb dinner shows that truly delight. Last night there was a mass pelican feed, 100 or more all flying in a huge cloud, dropping straight as arrows from 10, 20 feet, splashing deep, then bobbing up to swallow their meal. We see jumping rays, large schools of dolphin, and hopefully a few whales here in the Sea. You never know when a cool critter encounter might happen, so you have to be ready with camera and hope you catch it before it moves on.

Back to Isla San Francisco: our logbook says we've been, but I don't remember much. I must say, it's a new favorite! Gorgeous arcing bay with a beautiful pink-sand beach, lovely vistas, sunsets with the stunning Sierra Gigantas in the foreground, and lots of fun water-sports options. We had a chance, two days in a row to yank each other around behind the dinghy on the new foil board on glassy water with no wind, to learn a bit about "taking off" and "flying" on the weird, unstable foil. For Allan, it wasn't too hard, he got up numerous times, flying and landing, with only a few sensational water crashes. For me, a bit more of a slog, but I did make friends with the board and start to understand it's idiosyncracies, and I flew a few times! Each time I realized I was up out of the water and skimming on that slippery foil, I'd squeal, just like I always did when the softball was flying straight toward me in right field, and then kabloosh! Water up my nose and a circle-back with the tow rope for Allan. But we had a blast! It's fun just getting yanked around, and we both got the feel of towing. My impact vest was terrific, adding a bit of flotation, and all my gear, including my new bright-orange helmet, fit perfectly. Are we sore today, after two days of newbie foiling? You bet. Good thing we just get to sit around all day slipping quietly north on the flat sea.

We have no particular agenda for the next 4 weeks, which is sort of new for us. Usually, we have at least a pencil sketch of a plan. This time, we have 4 weeks to sail around. I want to spend time in Bahia Los Gatos, which we caught a glimpse of 3 years ago on our way south, but only had enough time to drop anchor for a very short night, as the sun sank on the colorful shore, before we had to move on the next morning, so no land time. Los Gatos has stunning rock formations, and I am pretty sure I was a rock in a former life, I love them so much. I also just watched a short bit on the geology of the Sea of Cortez and I'm intrigued to visit a bay north of Puerto Escondido that was highlighted. We might make it as far north as Santa Rosalia, but unlikely. If we do, however, the incredible and world-renown flour tortillas from Tortilleria Santa Águeda are on my list!

There you go. A month's worth of activity truncated and edited down to less than, can it be? 1800 words! Brevity might be achievable for me after all. In the meantime, the rays are jumping!

Photos in the Gallery - mostly of Disneyland!

Click here for our position:
PredictWind Position

Night watch, Friday: The moon is rising behind us like a bright slice of orange, a wedge tipped on its side against the black sky, reflected in the water in an ever-widening beam until it climbs right onto the stern of the boat. Above, the sky has all those stars we used to admire as kids, before our cities got so bright, or the ones you still admire when you're out camping. Or, maybe you're lucky and live under those stars all the time. I marvel that they're still there, just as always. Behind us, the mast light and red and green nav lights of s/v Kama hele, our sailing partners for this passage, shine faithfully, it's a comfort to know there's another boat right there. Ahead, the ferry from La Paz is steaming directly toward us, bound for Mazatlan, we'll pass in an hour or so. A few hours ago we could still see the glowing lights of Mazatlan behind and of Los Cabos ahead, but now, at almost 3am, the sky is just for the moon and stars.

At anchor, Saturday: The 36-hour passage behind us, we're in peaceful Bahia de los Muertos, which means "Bay of the Dead," an admittedly not very cheerful name, so when an ambitious developer started building an expansive housing development here some years back, it seemed prudent to change the name to the more optimistic Bahia de los Suenos, "Bay of Dreams" to boost sales. I guess it didn't work too well since the whole thing never got finished. But we love Muertos - a big, flat bay with calm water and a few beach restaurants, and, we hope, a chance to play with our wing and maybe get on a wing foil board. The seasonal winds needed for this sport are easing as we move into the spring, so these things may not happen. If that's the case, we'll head up to La Paz.

Road Trip: Lots has happened since we arrived in La Cruz de Huanacaxtle on March 1st. The big event was our inland trip by bus to Guadalajara and San Miguel de Allende, which proved to be a delightful diversion. But sailing on our own boat has made us spoiled in many ways, because (within the obvious constraints of weather) we can pretty much leave when we want, and stay where we want, and our home is always with us. Our own beds, pillows, food, clothes. Traveling on land to foreign cities means researching bus and plane options, schedules, hotels, restaurants. It's a surprisingly complicated project and I have great respect for travel agents, especially those who worked pre-Internet! Or, maybe their job was easier with fewer options, I don't really know. But I managed to suss out the best route to Guadalajara, thence to San Miguel and back to Puerto Vallarta, dug up some cute boutique hotels, and off we went, hoping we'd properly packed a smaller version of our stuff.

The road to Guadalajara, the capital city of the state of Jalisco, was smooth and well-maintained, the scenery dense and tropical, with interludes of flat, spiky agave fields. Apparently a LOT of fermented agave gets bottled in this country, as you learn when you walk into a tequileria or mezcaleria and see some of the thousands of brands of tequila (2,169 depending on how you count, according to spiritedagave.com) and the hundreds of mezcal on the shelves.

We arrived in the early afternoon to the central bus station and caught an Uber to our little hotel, located in a quiet neighborhood a few blocks away from the main church and square. The Gala Boutique Hotel was originally a private residence built in 1903 and was the perfect spot to stage for a few days of exploring Guadalajara, a university town. University towns around the world seem to be full of energy, diversity, and lots of coffee shops. Cozy hideaways to sit and ponder, or work on a term paper, or study, and plenty of interesting places to eat. As we are wont to do, we hopped on a double-decker bus in the early evening and rode around the city with little cheap earbuds tuned to Channel 7, the English version of the tour, learning all the historical tidbits. By doing these tours we get an overview of the cities we visit and can pick out the places we'd like to go back to later.

The next day was International Women's Day, and Guadalajaran women were out in force, wearing purple, joining a huge march that happens every year. They marched with their daughters and mothers, their sisters and friends, banging on large empty plastic water bottles and carrying signs that called for fair treatment, for a safe world in which to raise their daughters, for respect. There was a bit of mischief as we watched - a small group broke out and ran up the steps of one of the university buildings, spray-painting the glass windows and a few statues. At that point, being a wimp and valuing my safety, I suggested we skedaddle. But we did notice that, although there were tons of police and cadets on the streets watching, they were calm and unconcerned. Turns out, this happens every year, and the next morning they clean it all up again. There was other more damaging stuff that happened later in the night, but frankly we didn't pay much attention to it and overall it seemed mostly peaceful.

We loved our short 2-night taste of Guadalajara but it was time to move on to San Miguel de Allende, so we boarded our second cushy bus at 8am and headed east for the 6-hour ride, passing through Leon and Guanajuato over flat, dry terrain. I always hum Simon and Garfunkel's America when I'm on a bus - napping, reading, gazing out the window, getting bored. "Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat."

San Miguel de Allende is the cutest, tidiest, most flower-adorned-doorways city I know of in Mexico, though I admit I haven't been to many. It's delightful with it's ancient cobblestone roads, narrow sidewalks, and high curbs - all of which make walking challenging and, as I learned with my mom a few years back, wheel chair and walker travel virtually impossible. But there are taxis and Ubers and busses and it's a small town, and easy to get around overall. Lots of art galleries, street murals, handmade stuff, foodie eateries and drinkeries, churros and hot chocolate. And, lots of ex-pat artists and musicians who come, and stay, enjoying the high altitude, the dry air, the rich pool of arts to tap into. Our little hotel was again a bit outside the busy centro, close to our friends Jon and Erika, who we'd come to see.

On the first night we walked to Jon & Erika's for one of Erika's acclaimed home cooked meals and to meet all the cats. They collect cats, and we miss having a pet, so some cat time (and, it turns out, rabbit time) was in order. The meal was delicious, and it was great to hang out with Erika and Jon and their daughter Kate, who is also a stunningly talented artist. The cats were polite and sweet and the bunny was shiny black and silky soft.

The next day Jon led us on an historic walking tour of the city, covering some of the parks, churches and missions, leading us with his long, easy stride and narrating as we walked. We wandered hither and yon, climbing steep, narrow streets to stunning views, roaming through beautiful Parque Juarez, ducking into little gardens. We topped off our afternoon with some delicious street food, sitting on a stone wall in the shade and munching on tortas and mushroom tacos, then headed back to our room for a quick nap before Allan and I set off for dinner with a view.

There's a huge bar and restaurant atop a hotel in San Miguel where everyone tells you to go for an expansive view across the city, a fabulous place to watch the sunset as the church lights up magnificently and the city comes alive. We didn't go there. We went to a place we'd spied earlier in the day called Nüuk, a small rooftop restaurant above a cute boutique hotel (which San Miguel de Allende has in profusion) and had a wonderful non-vegan dinner with just as good a view but way less confusion. Well, save the minor distraction of the guys who were valiantly, and I'd say somewhat hopelessly trying to hang a huge retractable awning on the edge of the patio cover a few feet away from our table, a doomed endeavor once you looked at the logistics of it all. But in brave fashion they kept trying throughout our dinner, into the dark of night, and when we left they smiled at us apologetically and we smiled back compassionately, wondering how much longer they'd keep trying.

The next morning Jon met us again for, this time, a gallery tour of an area he'd not yet explored, but it turned out to be Tuesday. Tuesday is closed-day in a lot of Mexican restaurants and stores and galleries, and sure enough, the whole neighborhood was shuttered. And when I say shuttered, I mean, desolate-looking. Literally, metal garage doors rolled down. So, at Allan's request, we pivoted and went in search of street murals. That search went really well, and many of them are in the photo gallery. Six years ago when my mom and I were in San Miguel, Jon had arranged for a car tour of the street art, and I have a pile of photos from that day. It was fun to re-discover the murals, some still in great shape, others a bit worn from 6 years of sun and rain, and many gone, covered with new murals. Most of the artists sign their work, and some put bar codes and websites in the corner, so we're not talking about rogue kids with spray cans. Well, in many cases, yes we are, as a lot of them started out as lawless street taggers who were gently guided by sanctioned programs in cities like SMA to, with permission, create art, and many of whom still prefer the spray can as their media of choice. I love the street murals and now feel inspired to paint the side of our crummy little storage unit when we get back home ... I might even sign the corner.

After lounging a bit over cold limonadas con agua mineral in the garden at the library we parted ways, patting ourselves on the back for walking so much over the previous 2 days and also readily admitting to a few aches and pains as a result. Those cobblestones really take it out of you ...

Later that night we hung out a bit more with our friends and their furry critters, said our goodbyes and left the next morning on the shuttle to Queretero Airport where we caught our speedy (compared to the bus) Volaris flight to Puerto Vallarta, feeling relaxed and enlightened, back to our boat and the water and sea-level moist air.

Banderas Bay: Our time in La Cruz de Huanacaxtle went by really fast, but overall we had a good visit in the Bay. As previously mentioned we had a chance to see our friends on s/v Sea Larks off on their Pacific adventure (as of this post they arrived in the Marquesas this morning!) ate a few meals in town at our favorite places, had the opportunity to attend our friends Jay (composer for Star Trek tv shows and movies, and lots of other amazing things) and his wife Terri (producer, Star Trek) for their talk entitled "Where Does the Music Come From?" at the Vallarta Yacht Club, where we bumped into some long-lost friends we met 15 years ago, took an eFoil lesson (yes, it was a BLAST!) and generally did stuff like buy food and ice and take things to and from the laundry lady, Rosarito, who is the smiliest, loveliest woman in La Cruz.

Passages: But new adventures beckon, so, with a narrow window between southern winds in the Sea of Cortez, we hopped our way north to Mazatlan with a noisy overnight stop at Chacala, aka Whatchama-chacallit because I get Chamela and Chacala and chorizo all mixed up. It was the middle of a 3-day weekend in Whatchamachacallit and we were regaled, or annoyed, depending on what mood you're in, by the tubas and drums and loud vocals pouring from the beach palapa restaurants while young Mexican tourists zoomed by on jet skis or dragged behind pangas on inflated yellow banana boats, 8-12 at a time in single file. We were entertained when one banana dumped it's passengers as they swooped around our boat, a moment of alarm until we counted heads and saw them all happily bobbing in their life jackets, laughing and trying to figure out how to get back aboard the slippery plastic tube, which took some doing because it was upside-down, but finally they were all settled and off for more danger, whooping as they sped away.

We left in the company of s/v Kama hele, with whom we chatted through the night on Ch 16 as we passaged north. Since we weren't staying long in Mazatlan, we opted to anchor in the harbor, walking distance to the old town, rather than try to get into one of the two marinas on the north end. The anchorage was flat and shallow, but has a reputation for being the dumping grounds for the sewage treatment plant. Luckily, it would seem the plant in not currently operating, or not dumping, or whatever, but other than a murky color (green tide? Red tide? Or ...?) it smelled fine and we weren't concerned, although we did NOT swim. On shore there's a dilapidated series of buildings that were once Club Nautico, with bathrooms and showers and people in attendance, but it's all run down and abandoned now, with only a very rickety, small dock to tie your dingy to, a guard to slide the big rusty gate open and closed, and a collection of friendly cats and dogs. We successfully navigated the rotting and rusting ramp numerous times for our walks to town, and overall the anchorage was fine for our purposes. But if I was going to spend some time in Mazatlan, it wouldn't be there.

But Mazatlan is an interesting city and we did a bit of exploring, met our new friends on Kama hele for dinner in the historic district at Hector's Restaurant, climbed a hill to the highest "natural" lighthouse where we had with a 360-degree view of everything. Somewhere in there we stocked up on mangos and carrots and huge heads of lettuce and lots of other plant-matter things, found places to stow them all on Fly Aweigh, and readied for what turns out to be our 5th crossing betwixt mainland Mexico and Baja.

And so full circle back to Muertos, where, as it turned out, we had one perfect day for a wing foiling class. We had a fabulous time, and Allan even managed to "foil" a few times, which he describes as "standing on top of a beach ball." He made it look pretty easy from my vantage point, which was usually in the water recovering from my latest splashdown. But I got good at getting back aboard and up on my feet, and the wing felt logical to me. I get it. I get the wind, the way a wing works, the water, even the board. I have a lot to learn on the foil, but I did feel the board lift a few times and got a feel of that foiling beach ball thing. We are definitely going to continue learning this sport.

A few easy days in Muertos, enjoying those clear, stunning Baja sunsets, sharing a wonderful meal with Rick and Martha on Kama hele, and getting back into that Baja vibe, which feels more relaxed than the mainland. The air is dryer, the land is simpler, the people are easy. I'm ready for a few months of that easy vibe while we meander up through the Sea of Cortez, rediscovering some of our favorite blue anchorages and exploring a few new ones.

Next on the agenda: Seeing friends in La Paz and a trip back home!

In the Gallery - 3 (yes, THREE!) new photo albums - Socorro, Tenacatita and Barra, and Road Trip.

Click here for our position:
PredictWind Position

As the sun lights up the clouds behind the eastern mountains, a frigate bird glides gracefully overhead, in the company of smaller birds calling to each other, low over the water, circling the boat. A dolphin surfaces nearby, surprising me with a sharp breath as I write in the cockpit. A chilly breeze sends me back in for an extra layer of clothes, a luxury for now, as the day will be hot and humid within the hour. It's a quiet moment, admiring the beautiful angular wings of the frigate and feeling all tied-in with nature, when Allan and Chris emerge from the cabin. Chris looks up at the morning sky, and I think, ah, he's going to enjoy this sunrise too, and then he starts violently shaking the rigging while Allan joins him, jiggling the halyards and hollering Hey! into the air, and suddenly beautiful nature has become a minor threat - a large frigate has settled on top of our mast, perched on the tender little wind instrument, and threatening to lose a load of sticky, gluey bird poop on our white deck. He clings valiantly to the mast despite their efforts, but finally gets the hint and swoops off. I'm reminded of a funny moment 15 years ago here in La Cruz, pointlessly throwing walnuts into the air to thwart a bird on top of a neighboring boat in the marina, the walnuts barely making it to the spreaders before slowing, reversing their path and smacking onto the deck while we duck, the bird, undaunted, laughing from above. Ah, nature.

We're anchored just outside La Cruz de Huanacaxtle on the northern curve of expansive Banderas Bay. We arrived Saturday and have been enjoying the anchorage despite recent reports of attempted thefts on boats anchored here - a band of rogues has sullied the good reputation of this, the only realistically usable anchorage in the entire bay. But after discussing the options, we decided to brave danger, choosing to lock up all our valuables at night including the most common target of these hooligans, our dinghy. So far, we still have all our goodies. (Ps. A few nights later we spied an unlit panga with two guys in it, skulking slowly through the anchorage. Not usual behavior - fisherman are always in a hurry to get out to sea, or to get home, never skulking amongst anchored boats. We warned a nearby boat who had left his dinghy tied to the back of the boat - never a good idea at night anyhow - and made an announcement on Ch 16 to the fleet. Also mentioned it the next day on the morning Net. Advice from the local folks is to shine powerful lights on them, announce their presence to the fleet on the radio, ask everyone to turn all their lights on so they know we know they're there. I think this will be managed.)

Our guests, Chris and his wife Jean, the former owners of this boat, flew in from snowy Steamboat Springs and joined us on February 19th. Jean stayed for a week and Chris stayed aboard for the sail north from Barra to Banderas Bay.

Our time with them was great - we had only met Jean briefly 5 years ago when we first saw the boat, anchored in the Lagoon outside of Barra. She's delightful with her delicate Minnesota accent, spicy sense of humor and sharp mind. She and I enjoyed yoga classes on the beach a few times in Barra and had our own session under the palm trees in Tenacatita. We kayaked ashore with our yoga mats and water bottles, found a spot under the trees in the sandy dirt, laid out our mats and just slipped into our own practices, as easily as if we'd been doing yoga together for years. Off in the distance sat our kayaks, dragged high up the beach, and beyond Fly Aweigh rested among the other boats. Despite the tranquil image, I found myself largely consumed with the thought of falling coconuts, a big nest of them, green and heavy, directly overhead as I rested in savasana, and ended up dragging my mat multiple times to move outside the fall zone.

In all, we spent 3 days in Barra, dining with friends, stocking up on food at the weekly market, and splashing in the pool; 2 nights in a quiet anchorage south of Barra called Carrizal, and 2 nights in Tenacatita, where we ultimately said goodbye to Jean, who hitched a ride with friends on their boat, south to Barra to meet the driver waiting to take her to the airport in Manzanillo.

Chris, Allan and I set off north with a 2-day stop in Bahia Chamela, a wide bay with a few wild, cactus-strewn little islands. Allan and I took the dinghy over to one of the islands, Pajarero, dropped the dinghy anchor in the sand and had a delightful snorkel in the surgy water, surrounded by boobie birds sunning themselves on the rocks or perched precariously on the very pointy, spiny tops of the cactus. We went ashore one morning for breakfast at our favorite restaurant in the seaside town of Perula, Cafe Jazz, and took a nice walk back on the beach. Later, we had a chance to join friends from the boats s/v Single D and m/y Delta Swizzler for a fun cocktail hour, high above the world on Delta Swizzler's top deck, watching whales breach and telling sea stories, of course.

The next morning we moved Fly Aweigh around to Pajarero and anchored for the day, relaxing and doing more snorkeling, then left for an overnight passage in the afternoon. That last leg was around notorious Cabo Corrientes, which can be a washing-machine mess of a cape but our timing was good - no sailing, but a nice motor north, and smooth-as-glass seas as we rounded the cape into Banderas Bay. Chris stayed for a few more days and then flew back to Colorado, wearing shorts and a t-shirt but with his jeans and jacket standing by for his wintry return. It was great having him aboard - not only is he a pretty nice guy, and helpful, and funny, and smart, and knowledgeable about the boat (it was, after all, his boat for 6 years) but most importantly (to me), he took over cooking dinner for the last two weeks! What a treat to not have to eat my boring food. He's a flurry in the galley, aquainted himself quickly with where I keep all the stuff, adapted to our induction cooktop, and was thoughtful to consider our vegetarian leanings. So damn, now that he's gone I have to start cooking again. (Thank you, Chris!)

One of the reasons we're here in La Cruz, instead of, for example, way farther south in Zihuatanejo (which we had considered), is because we wanted to come and say farewell to our friends Jeff and his grandson Dylan on the beautiful Xquisite catamaran s/v Sea Larks, bound for the south Pacific with their crew, friends Lee Anne and Charlie (who recently ended their 5-year cruise in Mexico on their boat, s/v Juliet.) It was fun to be a small part of their busy life while they were in the final prep phase for their 3-ish-week crossing to the Marquesas. We had a few evenings with them and Jeff's wife Paula, who came to help with prep but will be happily at home while they brave the ocean. They pushed off yesterday to check out with the Port Captain in Nuevo Vallarta, an hour south-east. We had dinghied into the marina to see them off and ended up joining them across the Bay, a final hour together before they head to Punta de Mita on the far western edge of Banderas Bay. They'll launch for the open sea on Friday when the winds fill in. The timing of the departure for this voyage is tricky - you want the wind at the right angle and speed to get you to that magic place called, according to Allan "the place where you run out of wind." From there you turn south and hope crossing through the wind-less ITCZ isn't as ghastly as it's nickname, "the doldrums." There, in the middle of the doldrums, you cross the equator and transition from being a pollywog to a shellback, replete with ceremony, costumes, and offerings to Neptune, and finally you move south enough to meet the delightful trade winds which then move you west to the Marquesas. That's the Alison version, which is no doubt partly wrong but mostly right.

Was it bittersweet to see them go? Yes, for so many reasons! We want to go! We love that boat, and we love the South Pacific, and we'd love to melt off into 3 weeks of otherworldly open ocean passage making, but we're happy for all of them. Adventures await! So we hugged and took photos and waved goodbye, then wandered up the dock to get some breakfast at Eddie's.

We spent the rest of the day thusly: took the water taxi 3 minutes across the harbor to see if Jay on s/v Cadenza was around, visited with him a bit, bought Allan a pair of sandals, looked for soy milk (no luck), checked with Marina Paradise Village to see if they might have a slip for us (no luck) and then hopped on the "collectivo" bus, which took us all the way around the Bay to La Cruz for about a buck-and-a-half each. By the time we got out to our boat in the anchorage, we were hot and sticky and tired, but it was a good day. One reason I like being in the anchorage rather then the marina is it's more open and air-flowy. We unlocked the boat and opened all the hatches and within minutes the cabin had cooled and we flopped on the settee and took little naps.

Now we're plotting our next move. We've been threatening to visit our friends Jon and Erika in San Miguel de Allende, and we're finally doing it, leaving tomorrow on a big fancy bus with a 2-day stop in Guadalajara. So despite our preference for the anchorage, we're moving into a pricey slip so the boat is safe while we're gone. We went to the marina office and secured slip #14A on Dock 11, then dinghied into the slip to be sure we knew which one it was when we come in with the boat. Wandering around on the dock led to some confusion: our neighbor's slip was labeled 13, ours was 15. The one next to that was 6. I hailed a security guard nearby for answers. "Yes, that's #14," he confirmed, in excellent English, but when we showed him the 15 painted on the electrical box, he said, matter-of-factly, "Yes, we move them around." Peeking inside said electrical box, Allan found the connector was loose. "Will this work?" he asked, "Yes, it will work." "But, will it be safe?" "No, it won't be safe." We love Mexico! A few minutes later he offered to get the maintenance guy to come secure the fitting, so we'll see when we get in how that all went. (Ps. Polarity was reversed, we discovered that after dark, so plug unusable anyhow. Thankfully, we have lots of solar.)

So that's what our next week will be, an inland trip for a big change of scenery - not that our scenery doesn't change constantly already! I love this crazy life - it can be a bit dizzying at times, and exhausting, and even sometimes, surprisingly, a bit boring - but I love it.

(Ps: Still working on that darn photo gallery ...)

PredictWind Position

To start this thing off, here's a plug - since it's my blurb, after all - for our friend Deneb's marine research non-profit in the Islas Revillagigedos. A normal-ish blurb follows.

After spending 2 solid weeks together at the Revilla's, plus all the time before that trip in the planning stages, we learned a lot about Deneb and Derek, and about their passion for ocean conservation. The efforts by CONANP, the national park system in Mexico, to protect our oceans by creating sanctuary areas and national parks is beginning to pay off, as evidenced by increased numbers of species in areas where, in some cases, they had been endangered.

Just before we left for the islands, Deneb was asked to join a group of scientists in a presentation in Mexico City on the effects of the conservation efforts in the Revillagigedos, which became a national park in late 2018. It gave her a great sense of accomplishment to be part of something that is getting measurably better. And it buoyed her determination to continue her studies on the shark and manta cleaning stations in the Revilla's. As I mentioned in an earlier blog, these cleaning stations, established and run by the fish (an underwater mystery extraordinaire!) act as little urgent care centers as well as bathhouses, where the cleaner fish remove parasites, bacteria, and other unwanted things from the host fish, critical for their health, which is good, since they are critical to the overall balance of the sea.

So my plug is for her non-profit, CIENCIASBCS - Centro Interdisciplinario en Ciencias Aplicados de Baja California Sur (It practically translates itself, but means Central Interdisciplinary in Applied Sciences of Baja California South.) If you're at all interested in ocean conservation (and considering the realities of our oceans today and the direct effect their health has on ours, we all should be) and are at a place in your life where you want to help with something like this, she has a Donate button on her website and it's very easy, via PayPal, to make a one-time or recurring donation. Even 50 pesos ($2.43) per month (the lowest option on her website!) helps, because recurring donations are more reliable and begin to add up.

Her non-profit will also be expanding into other areas of study, including one that will evaluate the effects of exposure to nature on children. Taking city kids and giving them a chance to experience the beauty of nature not only enhances their mental and physical health, but it helps teach them, at a young age, to appreciate the world around them and learn the importance of protecting it.

Deneb is uniquely positioned as a marine biologist, the daughter of marine biologists, a former CONANP park ranger at the Revilla's, and an overall focused and brilliant person to be involved in these projects. Here is her website link, and we're proud to be listed as "Allies" (check it out!)

Link to CIENCIASbcs

Gracias, and I now return this blurb to it's regularly unscheduled programming.

Leaving the Revilla's after 2 amazing and rather unbelievable weeks was an adjustment. I could so happily just stay out there, diving, eating healthy, breathing incredibly fresh air (except when the wind stirs up the fine volcanic dust) and watching spectacular sunsets. But we were running out of food. Well, we had food, and could have stayed a lot longer, but rice and beans and pasta would have gotten quite dull, and I'd opened my last can of vegetables. Plus, we had places to go and people to meet.

The forecast for our 56-hour trip to the Mexican mainland promised following seas (the good kind, the kind the boat likes to surf down, smooth and quiet) and good wind from our port side. We were partly rewarded - we had a wonderfully energetic beam reach, with speeds over 8 knots at times, but the following seas did not happen. Instead we were tortured with a confused and choppy series of chunky waves that made moving around the boat downright dangerous, thumping and slamming into the hulls, making Allan a bit queasy and me just overall annoyed. But we were sailing, and that's always good.

We started our re-entry to civilization in Bahia Tenacatita, a beautiful large bay south of Puerto Vallarta. A long beach lines the protected bay, with a casual beach cafe where you can have a bite to eat, or sip cold coconut juice or beer or a tangy margarita and wiggle your toes in the sand. The sand! We hadn't had our toes on land for almost a month, so that was nice. We swam, and wiggled out toes, took our dinghy across the huge bay for some fresh produce at the local market in Melaque, celebrated a 6-year-old's birthday on the beach, and spent time with friends who were also anchored there, the Monson family on s/v Wippy, who we met in Oxnard last summer. Their 3 kids are home-schooled, so we got to be a part of their education with a presentation on our time in the Revillas. Deneb had equipped us with some CONANP promo videos of the Revillas and we had some of her fabulous underwater pictures of the cleaning stations, plus Allan's great stuff which he took with our new little underwater camera. We all marveled at the critters we got to swim with, talked about how long things live (sea turtles: thirty to fifty years!) and nibbled on oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

3 days later, partially reacclimated, we headed 3 hours south to Barra de Navidad, a favorite destination for cruisers along this Costa Alegre, where we've been since last Sunday. We literally jumped into the fire upon our arrival, since it was timed with the start of a week-long fund raising event the cruisers put on every year to help support the local schools. This is one of the many give-backs that cruisers are doing world-wide - thanking the communities that host and support them in their travels. The event is called Cruise-In Week, and includes things like taking people in the community on sailing trips, music events, a Poker Taco Crawl (that helps introduce some of the cool taco restaurants to visitors), and the big event, a Flamingo Regatta, in which people bet on the winners. It's a very well-run week, lots of fun, lots of work, and raises lots of money for the schools. The school system here is interesting: primary is from Grades 1-6, then there are two levels of what we call "high school." Grades 7-9 cover the normal things, and Grades 10-12 are preparatory for college-bound students, or vocational training in specific trades. And, college is free if you go to one of the universities in a capital city.

Our week was a blur of activity, catching up with old friends who either live here full time or cycle back down for the season, many of them here specifically for Cruise-In Week. We joined a few friends on a jaunt to the local elementary school and had pizza with the 25 kids, who adorned us with paper necklaces and handed out hand-made valentines; we helped with our rubber-bumper dinghy to usher boats carrying passengers in and out of their slips in the windy conditions; and we crewed on s/v Cadenza for one of the two music cruises. And on the last day, we had the privilege of crewing on s/v Baja Fog for the Flamingo Regatta. We're not racers - we're cruisers, we do things more slowly, we don't make constant tacks and sail changes, we sort of chill. So the stress and energy of racing is a bit unfamiliar to us, but this was fun! Baja Fog is a Lagoon 45 with the helm located on the top deck for a spectacular view, and all the lines and winches and buttons and knobs right there in easy reach. She's a home, fully loaded with canned food and galley gear and all sorts of things a serious racer would never have on a boat, and she's a tank to begin with at over 30,000 pounds, so she was heavily, but fairly handicapped. I manned the port lines for the jib furler, the main sheet, and the traveler, while Allan manned the port lines for the jib sheets and the Code Zero, a sort of a spinnaker-like sail, beautiful and a bit tricky. We had 3 other very capable crew, 1 on the starboard side, and 2 running around on the bow giving feedback to the line handlers on sail shape and other intracacies, and working to untangle the Code Zero when it gnarled miserably. And last but most importantly, overseeing all the fun - we had Captain John at the helm. The communication was great between everyone aboard, and we tweaked and finessed the boat to a win across the finish line. We won the big boat prize while John's wife Monique and Captain Mike took the small boat win, and the overall win, on Foggy, the Hobie Cat. John was funny - as Foggy gained, ("Hi honey!" she called as they pulled alongside) he picked up the handheld radio and called Elinor, who was manning the betting on shore, and put more money on Foggy. Remember, the goal is to raise money - all the betting wins go to the schools, so the rules are loose.

Meanwhile, our friend Terri, accompanied by her husband Jay, emcee'd the race from the Sunset Bar on the beach over Ch 68 (a ship-to-ship radio channel) delivering witty remarks and "talking smack" about each boat and her crew, goading people to place their bets, upping the stakes and making the whole thing a lot of fun, although Terri and Jay had to endure the entire afternoon in a bar full of smokers. Even paradise has it's thorns.

Between Cruise-In events we took 5 loads of laundry to the laundry lady in town, bought food at the local Thursday market, joined the yoga class on the beach, hung out by the pool sipping mango margaritas and Topo Chico, ate our fair share of street tacos, and hired Pancho and his incredible crew to wash and wax the boat and shine up the stainless (a thankless job!) We've been enjoying the beautiful Grand Isle Resort that sits like a tiny Mediterranean town at the head of the marina, and reacquainting ourselves with the difficulty of being vegan in Mexico. Nearly impossible, so we've gained back some of the weight we lost when we were living on our 100% plant-based, high fiber, low fat, low sodium, nutrient dense diet in the Revilla's. C'es la vie, we blame the French Baker, who plies his bakery goodies every morning by panga, circling through the marina and the lagoon, ringing his bell, tempting us daily with cinnamon rolls, croissants, sourdough bread, and any number of other low fiber nutrient deficient delicacies.

Today we're excited to be joined by our friends Chris and Jean, former owners of this boat when it was known as Strikhedonia. Chris and Jean spent 6 years in Mexico exploring on the boat and we're happy to have them back aboard for a week or so. Ironically, a few days ago we were anchored in the lagoon at almost the exact spot where, 5 years ago on almost the exact day, we met Chris and Jean and saw the boat for the first time. We'll make plans tonight for the week and then decide what happens after that - Jean flies home on the 26th and Chris is staying with us for our northbound trip to Puerto Vallarta with some stops along the way. In PV we hope to meet up with Jeff on s/v Sea Larks, who is about to launch across the Pacific with his grandson and crew - our friends LeeAnne and Charlie from s/v Juliette.

And so life goes on as we live in this little bubble of happiness, trying to be oblivious to the events at home but of course failing miserably at that. But we're grateful beyond measure that we're here in this beautiful country, enjoying good friends and having adventures, feeling healthy and alive, and able to wiggle our toes in the sand.

I know I'm behind on putting photos in the Gallery, but that's on my list, such as it is.

And, you know by now that you can track us by clicking here:
PredictWind Position

And again, Deneb's Website:
CIENCIASbcs

Where to start? How to summarize the last week in this unique and amazing place, with two unique and amazing people? I just reread my daily journal entries, and I have no idea how to mash it down to something under 2000 words, which is about the most I can get away with. I'll give it my best.

Isla Socorro was quite different than moon-like and haunting San Benedicto. For one thing, it has green stuff growing on it. Trees and cactus and even some palms that were brought in at some point. It has land critters, which of course we didn't see because we can't go on land, but there are mice and cats, neither of which are indigenous. You'd think the cats would solve the mouse problem, but instead they're endangering the lizards, which are indigenous. So they're working on getting rid of the cats. They've successfully removed the imported pigs and sheep, which resulted in a huge regrowth of vegetation and an increase in the bird and lizard population. There are parrots, bright green, perfectly suited to hide amongst the bright green leaves of some of the trees on the island.

Socorro is also notable for it's Navy presence. The small Navy base sits in a protected cove with a residential area nearby. We were rather shocked when we arrived for the required check-in to find the gorgeous volcanic walls surrounding the cove littered with graffitti. I can only assume some bored Navy kids were out one night with a can of paint, but man, those cliffs are straight vertical! Ah well, kids.

In all, we spent 8 nights in 3 anchorages around Socorro. Our first stop was Cabo Pearce, where I got my first glimpse of those gorgeous volcanic walls. My inner geologist was agape the entire time, surrounded by streaks of color and texture, ancient volcanic formations that boggle the mind. The anchorage was a challenge, though, very deep and rocky. Rocky is bad for anchors. I won't waste too many words on this, just enough to say that we love sand. We couldn't find sand, even with our fancy mapping sonar bottom painting thing, so we headed for slightly shallower water and hoped for the best. We had a tough night - it was obvious the best is not what we got, and the chain, lots of it down there, was scraping and tangling on the rocky bottom, transferring awful sounds up through the hull into our not-sleeping ears, while the wind blasted and twisted the boat around and the the waves crashed into the volcanic walls, a little too close for comfort. We didn't drag, the boat stayed solid, but in the morning we, and Amphitrite as well, reanchored.

We went on two dives that day. Deneb and Derek came over at 9am for a very thorough dive brief - this spot can be challenging with strong current and a few other tricky things. Deneb's brief was terrific, using the very helpful 3-D maps of the dive site that she helped create when working for the national park service, CONANP. Our first dive was at noon. Deneb set her camera on a little hill underwater, this time she's looking at a manta cleaning station. The dives were not too exciting - the visibility was murky and there weren't a lot of critter encounters, but we did see a few mantas getting cleaned, which is a fabulous sight. One big manta had a remora on each shoulder, perfectly positioned to look like little jet engines, the remora being busily cleaned by little cleaner fish, pecking and poking. More fish swam around the manta's huge wings and a passel of others swam beneath and behind like an adoring fan club. The whole scene reminded me of the time I was in an elevator in New York and Luciano Pavarotti swooped in, wearing a fabulous suit with a white silk scarf wrapped about his neck, surrounded by his entourage. This manta had that air of importance.

Two dolphin swam by looking very late for an appointment, no time to say hi but they did at least come very close, close enough to see that they'd both been around long enough to have chunks and nibbles taken out of their dorsals and tails, with lots of tattoo-like scars all over their bodies. I hear it can be tough to be a dolphin, not all happy-Flipper as I'd like.

When we came up from the dive we had drifted a bit farther out that I'd realized, and Derek, our dinghy top cover guy, was thrashing about in steep swells and breaking waves as the wind whipped around the cape. He was all grins, though, a true salt that guy is, and we all clamored aboard for a raucous ride back to the boats. The second dive was much like the first, a bit underwhelming perhaps largely because of an overcast sky, which mutes the light. But, a dive underwater is always interesting in some way, if you look close. We saw tons of lobster and had a visit from the same two busy dolphins. The clouds and wind and wet splashy ride back left me chilled, though, and I couldn't wait for a hot shower.

Our second anchor job was good, we all had a restful night. I passed on the diving the next day, and Allan skipped the first dive, so he and I were top cover and had a blast up there in all the ocean chaos, riding the steep swells up and down in our faithful dinghy, circling around trying to stay in the general area against the current. The big stressor of being top cover is after about 30 minutes, when you know your divers are coming up soon, and not really knowing quite where. So there's a fierce search for the safety sausage, looking in all directions, trying to avoid a mindset of where you think they'll come up. And when you finally see that silly orange sausage bobbing on the waves, you give a big sigh of relief knowing all is well and your people will be back on board soon.

A quick dive in the morning to retrieve Deneb's camera and then after lunch we had a fabulous downwind sail to Navy Cove, a short jaunt south, reaching over 7 knots on the little jib sail alone. As we neared Navy Cove, we again said a silent thanks for Deneb, she's an ace on all the protocols and of course speaks the language. She got permission on Ch 16 for our boats to enter Navy Cove and anchor while we awaited the inspection. They went to Amphitrite first, and then Deneb boarded their boat to come to help out on Fly Aweigh. Formalities over, we thanked them, parted ways, and motored around the corner to El Aquario. Knowing that, again, this was a notoriously rocky anchorage, we searched hard to find a good chunk of sand, but our first attempt was an abysmal failure. It was apparent as soon as the anchor hit the 88' bottom and we tried to set it that we'd dropped into rock, and it was a trick getting it back up again, but after a few more attempts we found a sandy spot.

We had a few nice dives here, but again visibility was a bit murky and other than gobs of huge lobster and an occasional shark, not a lot to see. We took a fun two-dinghy trip to explore the coast and found a pretty spot to snorkel, I stayed the our dinghy with Amphitrite's dinghy side-tied while the other three splashed about, then we headed over to visit a neighboring boat that had a friend of Deneb's aboard.

Always amazing, the people you meet out in the wilds: the owner of the boat was from the Los Angeles area, was a pilot, had learned to fly out of a nearby airport to our home in Oxnard. So we had lots of fun talking flying stuff an hearing their stories. Always stories. People who come out to places like this are full of them. He had a total of 8 people aboard, including a dive guide from Cabo, a few dive instructors from La Ventana and a few more from Cozumel, a Captain and his partner from Cabo and a friend of the owners. So it was a very dive-intense boat, they had piles of dive gear and at least 13 tanks aboard, with a high-powered dive compressor.

Our third and last anchorage on Socorro was Punta Tosca, another rocky spot with a good sandy area in the middle and well-protected from swell, although we did have a pretty consistent wind whooshing down the canyon and blowing offshore. We had a few nice dives here, it seemed like the better stuff was at about 30-40', lots of color, beautiful fish, some coral, and a wonderful encounter with a few ancient sea turtles. We caught one huge, barnacle-covered turtle sleeping in a corner, and felt bad waking him up, but even though we crouched behind a rock and tried not to look threatening, he slowly gathered himself up and swam off. Hard to believe huge turtles can swim, but they are quite graceful. We were visited by probably the biggest manta we've seen so far, who glided past so close to me I could have touched the wingtip. And a little baby shark decided to try out his menacing skills, circling us over and over again, trying to look big and scary.

We had a super-fun outing one day on our dinghies, Derek and Deneb really wanted to show us the coastline farther up, so we loaded up with picnic lunches and water and headed off, covered from head to toe with sun and water-protective gear. We bashed our way into rather questionable conditions, but we were feeling bold and kept zooming north, following Derek & Deneb who looked back questioningly every now and then to be sure we were still game. It was a chore, but worth it. The coastline really was stunning, this volcanic stuff is, to steal my friend LeeAnne's words, truly eye-popping. We found caves, and arches, and little inlets with walls of nesting boobies and graceful white Paradise birds gliding overhead. We found a cute little beach in a safe nook and dropped our dinghy anchor in the sand, tied the boats together and had our picnic lunch. We shared spinach and garbanzo bean salad, hummus and chopped veggies, whole grain crackers and seedy banana bread while chatting amicably. It's such an amazing life out here - we've lost weight eating so incredibly well, we feel wonderful, we're smart about the sun, we're drinking a lot less alcohol (we're actually pretty much out of alcohol) and staying super-hydrated. We're exposed to the beauty of life on a daily basis and the air couldn't be fresher. We feel supremely grateful. And to top it off, we had a super-fun surfing ride, with following seas and wind all the way back to the boats, making the bash out totally worth the agony.

Deneb had gathered all the footage and data she needed for this trip, so we spent the last few days taking little snorkel trips in the anchorage. On one we found a delightful little aquarium, teeming with fish. Our last day was spent in energetic preparation for the 3-day passage to Tenacatita on the Pacific coast of Mexico. I was fierce in the galley, making a veggie curry, a pot of chili, papaya-strawberry bread, a cabbage slaw and some fragrant jamaica syrup to spice up our fizzy water. Allan fixed some of the hatch latches, put away all our freshly rinsed dive gear and got the boat all ready for the trip.

We wrapped up our time together with a last dinner on Fly Aweigh, sipping jamaica margaritas while the sun slid behind the craggy rock, and shared meal prep - Derek's recipe of ginger-soy marinated tofu, expertly grilled by Allan, and a pasta with roasted red peppers whirled into a creamy, zesty sauce. Deneb gave us hundreds of incredible photos and videos, including some drone footage which, since we never got ashore, really rounded out the whole picture of these islands. Derek stocked me up with lots of new music and some great recipes.

For the few of you reading this blurb who are considering a trip in their own boat to this unforgettable place, I have a few tips: 1- Bring a guide! I can't imagine doing this without Deneb and Derek, despite the thick folder of information I'd gathered from previous sailors here. It's a tricky place to be for a hundred reasons. CONANP has a list of certified dive guides that mostly base out of Cabo. And, if you have 3 or more divers, the rules require a guide. (So that means pretty much everyone.) 2 - Never try to dive without top cover in a dinghy! The current is wild at times, it's darn right dangerous to even leave the drop site, you have to stay close and make sure your divers come up safe and near enough to get to you. Stories of the dinghy moving off into calmer waters to wait out the 30-minute dive often end in sketchy events, divers come up too far off for the dinghy driver to see the sausage and too far to hear a whistle, while the current continues to sweep the divers out to sea. But having a qualified guide (See #1) would negate that. Oh, and by the way, you can always come here on one of the dive boats that make the trip regularly. They're staffed by incredibly capable people who know this area like the back of their hands.

For us, we are just amazed this all worked out so wonderfully. We made it! With the help of Derek and Deneb, we sailed to the Revilla's and dove with mantas, dolphins, turtles, and sharks! Hammerheads, silkies, white tips and silver tips. And lobsters, and crabs, and although we didn't swim with them, we saw, and heard many humbacks, including some mama's with their babies. We watched crisp, clear sunsets and saw a zillion stars. We still have our beloved Mantus anchor, despite efforts by the rocks to steal it away. And we still have fresh fruit! 2 oranges, an apple, a kiwi and 2 grapefruit, so no scurvy.

Now, back to civilization. Back to restaurants and streets and grocery stores. Back to noise and chaos. Back to laundromats! We'll see what the next adventure is, but it will be hard to top this.

(Oops, didn't make the 2000 word limit.)

Our tracker, and current weather:
https://forecast.predictwind.com/tracking/display/SV_FlyAweigh/