Do you know who this man is?

This strange man was recently sighted in the vicinity of the good ship Gardyloo. We know he was aboard because of the picture above, which includes the new shipboard artwork over his right shoulder, a holiday gift from Michelle.

At approximately the same time, Harry’s blog posts suddenly stopped. We suspect foul play.

So, if you know who this person is, please contact us immediately. However, do not approach him on your own. He may be armed. He may be dangerous. Contact should be left to professionals.

P.S. This just in: The photo above has been positively identified as Harry himself. There is still some question concerning his mental health, as he seems to have compulsively shaved off all of his facial hair. “Snorkeling masks don’t seat properly over a mustache. I get water up my nose.” he says, rather unconvincingly.

First impressions of La Paz

We’ve only been in La Paz for a couple weeks, so this is hardly a definitive review of the town. Just some first impressions.

Working outward from the boat, we’re staying in Marina Cortez, one of the two main in-town marinas.

There’s a lot of wildlife in the water in the marina, far more than any other marina we’ve stayed in. The ones that caught us most by surprise (except for the pistol shrimp) were the flying fish, that occasional leap out of the water right next to our boat. The record so far was one that leaped about three feet vertically and about six feet horizontally.

La Paz has an extremely active cruiser community, centered in the next marina over. They hold daily radio nets (where everyone listens in and people announcement when they’re arriving and departing, things for trade, events, etc., etc.). The day after we arrived, they had a Thanksgiving dinner, which drew upwards of a hundred people — they cooked twenty five turkeys, and the guests brought side dishes, and the restaurant where it took place sold drinks. All for 200 pesos (about $10).

Right next to the marina is the Malecon, the main pedestrian water-front strolling area of the city. It includes beaches, statues, shops, restaurants, music, events, etc., etc.

Heading inland from the Malecon, there are the usual small city stores. Plus the occasional park.

The palm trees and cacti remind you that you’re in Mexico, or at least in an arid climate.

We’ve discovered one farmer’s market that happens every Tuesday and Saturday. Not nearly so large or complete as back home, but enough to get Suzana her fix of cucumbers and tomatoes. Oh, and also flourless chocolate brownies…

The town is largely Mexican, with a sizable tourist/ex-pat component (as opposed to the other way around). So the norm is for people not to speak English, though there’s usually someone nearby who can translate if you’re linguistically challenged like I am. The upside of that is the new and interesting cultural and culinary possibilities.

Back at the marina at the end of the day, the sunsets here always seem to be spectacular. Something in the air. The one below is decidedly sub-standard. We’ve seen far better.

So, overall, what do we think of La Paz? It’s as several people told us before we arrived: Mexican, laid back, friendly, cultural, interesting. I see why several people we’ve met here were just passing through fifteen or twenty years ago and never left. We’ll try not follow their example. Though, sitting here on the boat with the warm evening breezes and the sunset, I’m not totally sure why not…

It’s raining in the bilge!

No, the boat’s on fire! No, the boat next door is dumping water! What is that noise?

Shortly after arriving is La Paz, we became aware of a noise, only heard when the boat is fairly quiet, a kind of crackling. At first, we thought it was raining, but with nary a cloud in the sky, that seemed unlikely. The noise was a kind of crackling or snap-crackle-pop sound. So, maybe splashing water from another boat, but we didn’t hear it outside as loud as it was inside. It sounded a bit like fire too. Or maybe water spraying through a hole in the boat belowdecks.

It sounded louder forward. We stuck our heads into the anchor locker in the bow, and it was louder still, but coming from below. We stuck our heads into the bilge (yuck), and it was also louder, but coming from forward.

When you’re on a boat, there’s no end to the imagined possibilities of an unidentified sound, most of them ultimately leading to the boat sinking. We finally gave up and went to sleep.

The next day, with a little help from our friends on C.A.T., plus a little googling, we figured it out: pistol shrimp!

Before I get into the details, I’ll warn you: when we told another boat about this, they were absolutely certain we were pulling their legs. But it’s true. Really it is. I couldn’t make this up.

Pistol shrimp (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alpheidae), an inch long snapping shrimp, have two claws. One is larger than the other, and can be cocked back and then released very, very quickly. When released, it creates a bubble, which then rapidly collapses, releasing a huge, but very local force (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XC6I8iPiHT8). The temperature in a very small area actually gets hotter than the sun. And makes a crack sound. It’s used to stun prey that the shrimp then eats.

What’s as amazing as the hotter-than-the-sun bit, is that to create the constant crackling sound that we hear, there must be hundreds or thousands of pistol shrimp near our boat doing this all the time.

Nature is so weird.