People have been asking for more blog posts. The problem is, nothing’s happening. The boat is in Ensenada.

Suzana and I are coming and going between Ensenada and San Francisco, doing more work cleaning up the house (the one piece we didn’t get done before heading out cruising last year) than on the boat, which hasn’t moved for a month.

At the moment, Suzana is in San Francisco, and I’m is in Ensenada. While I’m sure Suzana is getting up every morning at 5AM and working all day on the house until midnight or so, I’m taking it easy. Oh, there are boat projects to do, decks to be swabbed, oil to be changed. But mostly I’m doing crossword puzzles, watching TV (just finished season three of Stranger Things), doing Tai Chi, taking naps, eating out, and watching the cruise ships come and go two or three times a week.

So maybe this is a good time to briefly describe cruising (as we do it), especially since we’ve noticed that some people have misconceptions about it…

Cruising has essentially three different modes:

In the marina. This has been our favorite style. It’s very little different from having an apartment in whatever city you’re visiting. You can sit at home. Explore the city. Or visit with other cruisers — there’s always someone around the dock to chat with.

In nature. This mode involves anchoring out, away from civilization. It’s quiet. There’s swimming and/or kayaking. And there’s hiking on the nearby land.

Passages. This involves getting from place to place, sometimes taking multiple days to do it. This is the most strenuous but also the most exciting of the modes. It’s when sea sickness happens. And it’s when the dolphins come and swim along with the boat.

So, if you’re considering coming and staying in our spare bedroom, note that there’s something for everyone. You can sail. You can avoid sailing entirely. You can visit a city. You can commune with nature. You can do lots of stuff. Or you can nap.

We’ve found that some people have the mistaken impression that we’re disconnected when we’re cruising. Not true. Even during passages, we have an Iridium satellite connection that lets us do texting and limited email, as well as getting weather reports. At the other end, in the marina, we’re as connected as we are at home: full cell phone service, email, Internet, etc. And even in the nature mode, we surprisingly often have cell phone reception, which we use to access the Internet as well. So don’t hesitate to call; if we’re busy napping, we won’t pick up.

P.S. Without Suzana’s superior language skills to lean on, I’m picking up more Spanish. Now I can say, “Uno calzone para llevar, s’il vous plait.”

I got to the airport a little late, thanks to my misremembering when my flight was due to leave. Is it still a “senior moment” when I’ve always done it? But over an hour before a domestic flight (even if it connects to an international one) is OK, right? So, really, not early but not terribly late.

The line was not too long, didn’t move too slow, and I was at the head, waiting for the next check-in agent in no time. Which was when the computer system for the whole airline industry crashed on me. Well, OK, not on me personally. And not really the whole industry, but Sabre does cover most of it. Check-in stopped. Flights stopped — taking off; I assume the ones in the air kept on going. I was left standing at the head of the queue with nowhere to go.

It only took them a half hour or so to get it back up again. (A company with so obviously a phallic symbol name as Sabre really aught to know how to get it up and keep it up, I mean really!) Meanwhile, the check-in people were reassuring everyone that the flights were being delayed too, and they wouldn’t miss anything.

I checked in my bag (full of boat parts) and headed to the gate. Since all of check-in was off-line for a half hour, security was completely empty, so that went quickly. I didn’t have TSA Pre, so it was a shoeless, beltless, try-to-feel-dignified-while-they-pat-you-down pass through security, but no waiting.

Got to the gate, and they were in final boarding for an on-time departure. I told them the people up front were telling everyone the flight was delayed to wait for them, but they just shrugged. Anyway, I got on maybe ten minutes before they closed the door. Then we sat at the gate for twenty minutes due to more computer slowness. Meanwhile (we heard from someone with a cell phone and friends outside), the delayed passengers were on the other side of the door and not happy about it. The pilot reassured us that they would get on the next flight.

In the next airport, I originally had a fifty minute connection, now turned into a thirty minute connection. Luckily, my arriving flight was at gate 65B, and my departing flight was at 64A. After pausing for a moment at a pair of signs saying 64B and up this way, and 63 and lower that way, I finally found where they’d hid 64A. Final boarding, no sir, you don’t have time to go to the bathroom before boarding, door closing in six minutes.

Got on, got my seat, and they delayed departure for twenty minutes to wait for a connecting flight from Seattle. But then we were off, and I even got to buy some lunch.

After landing, immigration and customs was a breeze. But now I know the answer to a long-standing mystery: In immigration, then often make you push a button as you go through, which lights up a green light. Why? Is it taking your fingerprint? Testing that you’re actually a physical human, not a hologram? Adding to the festive mood of the immigration line? Always seemed sort of pointless, but now I know why they do it. Every once in a while, it lights up a red light instead, and you have to put you bags through a scanner. The button is just a random number generator.

Now for ground transportation. The airport taxis have a monopoly here, so no Uber. Instead you get a choice between a regular taxi ($25) and a shuttle ($8). I went for the shuttle. But they need a minimum of three people for a shuttle, and they won’t even sell you the ticket until three people show up. But show up, they did. And a fourth too. And rather than the spacious van I was envisioning, given the title “shuttle”, they crammed us into a regular compact taxi.

All of the other three passengers spoke Spanish. In fact, the woman who got the front seat (I got there first but gave it up to her, being chivalrous and all, if that’s still PC to do), was having an animated conversation for the whole ride. Based on the hand gestures, I believe they were discussing the best route to take.

Shortly after leaving the airport, we came to slow down in traffic, to which the driver exclaimed, “Aya!”, and turned onto a side street. Then onto a more obscure side street. Then onto a dirt road. Then onto a dirt road with lots of potholes. The woman in front said something in Spanish, which I believe translated to “too much traffic, short cut.”

Did I mention that Mexican music was blaring from the radio the whole time?

The driver was seldom happy with the speed of the cars ahead of him, and was fairly creative in ways to get around them. But a motorcycle got the better of him, riding up onto the sidewalk, around the corner, and coming out ahead of us. And I once again experienced the now familiar Mexican speed bump phenomenon: drivers go well over the limit, then hit the brakes hard as the once-every-three-blocks speed bump approaches, go over the bump at 2 MPH, then accelerate back up again.

By some happy coincidence, the El Cid Marina Hotel, where our boat is, was the first stop. As I got out, saying “buenos tardes” to my fellow passengers, and entered the hotel portion of El Cid, the doorman asked, “You’re checking in, right?”

“No,” I said, “I have a boat here. I’m coming home.”

Luck put us in Mazatlan just in time for Canaval. And Mazatlan has one of the biggest Carnavals in the world.

A major part takes place in a baseball stadium, with music and speakers and crowning of the King, Queen, and Child Queen. We skipped that, though, and got right to the fun part: fireworks! On the night of March 2nd, we joined the crews of Ramble On Rose, Rejoice and Wild Spirit for a night out, including dinner, and then the evening’s two pyrotechnic events.

The first was the Quema del Mal Humor, or Bad Mood Burning. They pick a figure (this year it was the previous president of Mexico; last year, it was Trump), and burn them in effigy. Actually, “burn in effigy” rather understates the activity, since it’s a sort of exploding piñata. It’s supposed to get rid of all the bad feelings.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get any good pictures of the exploding part. But not to worry, on the same night was the Combate Naval, or Naval Combat Fireworks, in memory of the defense of Mazatlan during the French Colonial invasion of 1864.

But first, more people arrived…

Then there was some waiting.

Then there was more waiting.

Then it was time for the fireworks.

But first, there was some more waiting.

And just as Suzana said, “I hope the fireworks are really good, to make it worth all this waiting,” there they were.

What’s hard to imagine from the photos is how immersive the event was. The fireworks came from barges on the water (like most fireworks shows), but they also came from on shore, maybe twenty feet from the crowd. And many of them exploded directly overhead. You felt like you were in the fireworks. So much so that we were rained on by bits from the explosions, some of which were still burning on the way down…

Not something you’d experience in the US. Too much potential liability…

And besides the fireworks were spouts of flame, right next to us.

The following day was the parade, which also attracted huge crowds. Unfortunately, I was experiencing some back issues that kept us on the boat that day.

But on the 5th, there was a second parade that retraces the same route with most of the same floats. It was not nearly as crowded as the main parade.

But just as pretty.

I hadn’t been to a parade since I was a kid — well, unless you count DisneyLand…

And following the parade (and a quick dinner at a temporary roadside diner — well actually an in-the-parking-lot temporary diner), as we walked home, we ran across a family of raccoons being fed by passers by…

We’ve really enjoyed our time in La Paz. The city, the people, the marina, the sunsets.

But we’re cruisers now, so with distant ports calling, it was time to move along. We decided the next major stop should be Mazatlan, especially since we’ll be getting there just before Carnival, and Mazatlan is reputed to have a Carnival that rivals Rio’s.

But on the way, we stopped for some sight seeing. First, at Isla San Francisco.

Where, despite the namesake-like cold and rainy weather, we hiked up to the top of the hill. While there, we saw a bunch of manta rays leaping out of the water way below (sorry, no pictures).

We were joined in the bay by a National Geographic cruise ship with 100 passengers. In fact… We went to bed with a Nat Geo cruise ship anchored next to us. We woke up the next morning with a Nat Geo cruise ship anchored next to us. We just assumed it was the same ship. Turns out they swapped them while we were asleep! That led to a rather confused chat with one of the guides from the boat…

Next stop was Bonanza bay at Espiritu Santo.

Then back to Ensenada los Muertos, which we had stopped at on the way to La Paz. But we loved the place so much that we said we’d return, and return we did.

We took the dinghy to shore to have lunch at the local restaurant (the one with the giant train set). As we neared the beach, we noticed a posse (or maybe a gang) of pelicans hanging near the ramp. They didn’t move out of the way. When we dragged the dinghy ashore (so it wouldn’t wash away if the tide came in while we were eating), they didn’t leave. Instead they followed us, and we realized they were pretty tough looking hombres and very persistent. Fishing boats often launch and return there, so we assumed the birds were just used to getting a free fish or two. But they seemed pretty intimidating. We definitely didn’t turn our backs on them.

While in Muertos, we met a pair of friends (a firefighter and a gymnastics coach) who had recently arrived on their boat from the US. After an infestation of seals had nearly destroyed their boat while they had it moored near San Luis Obispo, they rebuilt it almost entirely themselves, then sailed it down to Mexico. They came over for drinks and conversation — it’s always interesting to exchange notes with other cruisers of all kinds. As they were leaving, we realized they were both younger than our daughters…

After a weather delay of a couple days, we made an overnight crossing to Mazatlan. Unfortunately, Suzana got sea sick on the way — something we thought we’d gotten over. The sea was rather bouncy (four feet at five seconds for those of you who know what that feels like). But she recovered and was fine for the rest of the trip.

The entrance to the Mazatlan marina area — where there are several marinas, including the El Cid marina that was our destination — is like something out of the Odyssey: a narrow passage with occasionally crashing seas guarded by a sea monster. (Photos below were taken after we arrived, as we were too busy to take them as we arrived.)

The sea monster was a dredger, which takes up most of the channel when it’s dredging. The photo below is the dredger resting in its lair. It looks much scarier when it’s threatening to force you onto the rocks.

(Though in fairness, the dredger operator was really nice and helped direct us through the narrow passage.)

El Cid marina is pretty rough. Besides the marina, it’s a full service hotel/spa, with pools (including in-the-water bars), a gym, a beach, and, worst of all, bingo! Not our usual sort of place, but we’ll survive somehow.

One of my favorite movie directors is Michelangelo Antonioni (perhaps best known in the US for Blow Up). L’Avventura is one of the films that established Antonioni as a significant director — at the Cannes debut, people booed the film, always a sure sign of something good and original. The film is about a group of people who go to an island on a yacht, where one of the group disappears. The rest of the film is about the search for her.

So, anyway, Suzana and I took our friend Samina out to one of the local islands, Isla Espiritu Santo, for a three day outing. While there, we enjoyed the scenery, slept late, and took our two kayaks out for some water fun. I should, perhaps, mention that both kayaks currently have “issues”: one has a slow air leak, that takes days to deflate; and the other has a slight water leak — it won’t sink, but you end up sitting in a puddle of water after a while.

On the second day, Samina and Suzana took the kayaks out while I took a shower.

When I finished the shower, twenty minutes later, I looked out to see how far they’d gotten. They were nowhere to be seen!

I looked in all directions. Nothing! I got out the binoculars and scanned the coastline. Nothing! I’m not the sort to panic, but my heart rate was, shall we say, elevated above a normal functioning level.

It didn’t make any sense. The kayaks are bright orange, easy to see. One might possibly have sunk, but not both. They might conceivably have been driven out to sea by the tide, but I should still be able to see them!

I considered raising the anchor and motoring around looking for them, but that’s hard to do single handed. I considered calling the other boat in the bay to see if they’d seen them, but it seemed unlikely they would have. I considered sticking my head in the sand, but for that I’d have to get to shore somehow.

While trying to come up with some other unworkable alternative, I saw a bit of movement out of the corner of my eye. Grabbing the binoculars again, I managed to locate them, right up next to the rocks.

Though less than half a mile away, they were small enough and camouflaged by the rocks so that they were nearly impossible to see. But they were fine, and headed back to the boat, both having a great time and quite happy.

I didn’t mention this experience to them until we were back in La Paz a couple days later… I don’t know if they noticed at the time how happy I was to welcome them back aboard Gardyloo.

Our friend Susan (last name not actually Jones) swam with whales in Tonga. We’ve been jealous and trying to catch up ever since. Recently, we took a step closer, though we haven’t yet fully achieved oceanic parity.

Together with Suzana’s brother, Robert, we swam with whale sharks, which are the largest (by far) fish in the world. While not technically whales, whale sharks are still pretty impressive. To quote Wikipedia:

The whale shark (Rhincodon typus) is a slow-moving, filter-feeding carpet shark and the largest known extant fish species. The largest confirmed individual had a length of 12.65 m (41.5 ft) and a weight of about 21.5 t (47,000 lb).^[8] The whale shark holds many records for size in the animal kingdom, most notably being by far the largest living nonmammalian vertebrate.

The whale shark is found in open waters of the tropical oceans and is rarely found in the water below 21 °C (70 °F).^[2] Modeling suggests a lifespan of about 70 years, but measurements have proven difficult.^[9] Whale sharks have very large mouths and are filter feeders, which is a feeding mode that occurs in only two other sharks, the megamouth shark and the basking shark. They feed almost exclusively on plankton and small fishes, and pose no threat to humans.

Swimming with whale sharks near La Paz can only be done with a guide. There are several companies that provide the guide service. We picked the one that goes out of our marina, On Board Baja, making the logistics easy. They supplied snorkeling equipment and wet suits:

A knowledgable and enthusiastic guide:

A driver:

And where to find the whale sharks:

Here’s Suzana, Robert, the guide, and a whale shark (grey shape with white dots and a fin sticking out of the water, at the bottom of the photo):

The whale sharks we swam with were juveniles, perhaps 3-4 meters long. That’s big enough so that your normal sense of scale sort of breaks down, making for a very surreal experience.

They have huge mouths, giant gills, and a really big tail. There are also often smaller fish hanging off the whale sharks.

While you try not to get too close, Suzana and I were both, separately, bumped into by whale sharks that came up from behind so that we didn’t see them coming. Getting too close or bumping isn’t really dangerous, but it scares them away. Which is another weird part of the experience, that something so much bigger than you is scared of you.

A good time was had by all — well, I can’t speak for the whale sharks, but we enjoyed the hell out of it.

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…

Cruising is sometimes exciting, sometimes scary, sometimes fascinating, and sometimes very, very relaxing. Our passage from Cabo to La Paz, with stops at Bahia los Frailes and Ensenada de los Muertos was the latter.

The seas were light, as were the winds, and all legs of the trip were in daylight. So no stress.

Frailes had swell coming from the South, generating a constant rolling the entire time we were there. Normally, rolling is a bad thing, as it makes it harder to do things aboard, even as simple a thing as walking in a straight line. But this rolling was both very gentle and very regular. So it felt like there was someone singing a lullaby quietly in the background. It made it very easy to sleep, even when it wasn’t bedtime, and just generally made the whole stay feel very dreamlike.

Perhaps the only source of tension during the passage was anchoring in Frailes, which was very crowded (around 35 boats) when we arrived. Most of those boats were Ha-ha boats, including several with people we know. We found a spot a little closer to other boats than we like, but workable. However, the next morning when we woke up, every boat around us but one had moved on, and we had lots and lots of space. We did wonder if it was something about us that drove them away, but we didn’t complain.

We dug out and inflated the kayaks for the first time ever — they came with the boat, but we had never used them before — which was lots of fun.

We woke up the next morning to find a rather large power boat anchored in the bay. They stayed the day and then moved on. We’re not sure, but we suspect that’s a water slide sticking out the back.

Ensenada de los Muertos, our next stop, translates to Bay of the Dead. We’re not sure what the history of the name involves, but don’t worry: the local developers have renamed the bay to Bahia de los Sueños, or Bay of Dreams. How’s that for rebranding?

Another Island Packet 420, Reality Check, anchoring not far away, in time for this sunset photo op:

Muertos has a very accessible beach (no breaking waves to get you soaked), with lovely white sand, and a resort that includes a very good restaurant. If you eat or drink in the restaurant, you can use their other facilities, like the pool (with water slide).

And inside the restaurant, on the second level, is an extensive model train set. You can’t run it, but it sure brought back childhood memories. If I remember my model train gauges correctly, I’d say it was OO gauge.

We had lunch with cruisers from Epiphany, Cravn Wind, Redeemed, and C.A.T.* The restaurant was planning a Thanksgiving dinner for the 22nd, and some of the other cruisers decided to stay for it. But we wanted to get on to La Paz.

Muertos is one place we’d like to return at some point.

*: C.A.T. had been planning to sail directly, overnight, to La Paz. They noticed our mast in the bay at Muertos, and called us on the VHF just to say “hi.” We told them it was a great harbor and they really should stop for a while. We thought they’d continued on when they suddenly showed up at the restaurant just as we were eating lunch. They later said the tacos were great, it was really nice to get a good night’s sleep. We played sea tag with them the next day all the way to La Paz.

The second and third legs of the Ha-ha took us from Turtle Bay, to Bahia Santa Maria, to Cabo San Lucas.

Spanish pronunciation mnemonic 1: “a” and “i” in Spanish are pronounced like in Maria, so Bahia Santa Maria rhymes very nicely.

As we go on a leg out into the (potentially hostile) ocean, it’s comforting having other boats nearby. When we start, you can see the other boats on our AIS display, as shown below. In the middle of the circles is our boat. All the little, sperm-like thingies are the other boats.

AIS only shows nearby boats, so as the leg progresses, boats disappear, one by one, exactly as if a giant sea monster were picking them off, one by one. We assume not.

At night, you can see the lights for the very near boats. On the first leg, we were surrounded by what Suzana called a “circle of lights” following us through the night.

In Bahia Santa Maria, there is virtually nothing at all, yet somehow, magically, there were more pangas to take us to another big party on shore.

Here are our friends from the boat Ramble On Rose:

There was a very good live band, who got trucked in from far, far away. I’m told, but haven’t verified, that the lead singer was the winner of the Mexican TV series “The Voice.” They played for tips — and I’ll bet they did OK.

The normal schedule for the last leg of the Ha-ha, from Bahia Santa Maria to Cabo San Lucas had us leaving early in the morning, and getting in late the following day, possibly after dark. As we hate entering a new port after sunset, we took off the night before, sailed over two nights, and arrived in the morning.

Here’s the entry to Cabo:

Cabo downtown is a very noisy place. From our slip, we could hear four or five bars attempting to attract patrons by blasting loud music into the night. If you’re into atonal music, it’s great. And then at 6 in the morning, the sport fishing boats go out, after loudly getting ready. But we were so tired from the trip and the heat, we slept through it all.

And, it wouldn’t be the Ha-ha without another party in Cabo, at Squid Roe, which the guide books describe as the heart of the Cabo night life.

If Suzana looks a little blurry, that’s just because it was that sort of place.

The next day, there was an awards ceremony, where we won second place in our division, and chattiest boat. Getting second place was partly because of Suzana’s experience with racing and her advice: just show up. I’m sure we’d have won even if all the other boats had submitted their time sheets as well.