One of the unexpected delights of the cruising life is the continual occurrence of seemingly random juxtapositions, where disparate elements are brought together in new and interesting ways.

I was struck by this thought the other night, as Eric and I were sharing a delicious dinner and fascinating conversation with Jeanne from s/v Nereida, a world-record-holding circumnavigator from England, while enjoying the amazing musical talent of Lobo, a world-class classical guitar virtuoso from Germany, whom we also got to know. Four people from very different backgrounds, with very different life stories, brought together by the magic of juxtaposition.

We were enjoying German food at the Black Forest Restaurant, a little German restaurant on one of the rock-cobbled streets in La Cruz. German food. In Mexico. I didn't know whether to say Gracias or Danke schon to our waitress when she served us.

Outside, modern cars and SUVs were parked along the curb, and then, Clop! Clop! Clop! a white horse inexplicably plodded up the middle of the street, with a young Mexican boy on his back.

The other day, we journeyed inland to see some ancient petroglyphs. The site was beautiful, powerful, almost mystical. In addition to the carvings themselves, what also intrigued Eric and me was the presence of modern offerings left on the petroglyph rocks. Candles, ribbons, coins, an ear of corn...today's prayers juxtaposed on those of ancient times.

Across the dock from us at Marina Riviera Nayarit is the sailing vessel Time Warp. Time Warp was berthed across the dock from us in our home port of Brisbane, CA, thousands of miles from here. Carla and Ed left Brisbane aboard Time Warp last December, sailed down the coasts of California and Mexico, and two weeks ago just happened to pull into the slip across the dock from us in La Cruz.

It's also fun to witness or experience juxtapositions and connections made between cruisers. Anytime a group of cruisers engages in conversation, they will inevitably find some person or place or circumstance that links them to each other. They may have friends in common; maybe they spent time in the same port; perhaps they sailed through the same rough patch of weather, had done the same repairs, saw the same pod of whales, caught the same kind of fish.

I find that cruisers often actively search for these connections, casting lines of conversation until they find one that hooks, forging a new link between themselves and another cruiser.

Yesterday, for instance, we were having conversation in our cockpit with Mary and John, from the boat Slappey II, whom we'd met in Mazatlan, and our friend Matthew, half of the crew of Daybreak. These guys had never met each other before that moment.

As the conversation unfolded, and the lines were being cast, I listened for the strand that would eventually connect them, all the while thinking, "Wait for it, wait for it...." It didn't take long: They soon realized that they have friends in common in the Pacific Northwest, and had moored their boats in some of the same ports. When the connection was made, I couldn't help but say, "And there it is!"

Another juxtaposition, another connection made, another strand added to the loosely-woven and far-flung web that connects the cruising community.

An update on the frigatebird fracas:



Sailboat enthusiasts will recognize this item as a windvane blade. A windvane blade is part of an anemometer, a specialized piece of equipment that measures wind speed and direction. Anemometers are typically mounted at the top of the mast, as is ours.

Well, all of it except for this broken windvane blade.

This windvane blade was broken off and deposited onto the dock next to SCOOTS by - you guessed it - a frigatebird. This frigatebird had perched for the night on the front of our mast, where we couldn't dislodge it, no matter what we tried. It had, in fact, perched directly ON THE WINDVANE.

This was not a good scenario, as the windvane blade is about six inches long and weighs maybe an ounce, while the frigatebird is about three FEET long and weighs several POUNDS.

And so, in the morning, after a night of decorating our deck with its caca, the frigatebird finally decided to leave its perch, breaking off this piece of equipment in the process. Because FRIGATEBIRDS ARE JERKS!