There´s just no way I can recap all that I´ve been up to, so I´m not even going to try. Sorry, folks. I´m just not motivated to write everything down, it´s so time consuming! Actually, I guess it would be more accurate to say I´m not motivated to write ANYTHING down, since I haven´t updated this dinosaur for almost 2 months! Here´s what I´ve been up to:
Jumping off waterfalls in Montezuma
Surfing in Malpais
Mountain Biking and Bouldering in Boquete
Zip lines, rope swings, and hanging bridges in Monteverde Cloud Forest
Ridiculous partying and bachanalia in Puntarenas during Carnival
Slack lining and soccer juggling for Puntarenas sunsets
Hilarious jam sessions with the Puntarenas crew (ukulele, mess kit, pringles cans, voices, etc.)
Lots of busses
Eating Casados, a cheap, delicious, filling local dish of rice, beans, meat, and salad, $3.00
Eating lots of fresh fruit
24 hours of pooping every 15 minutes (not fruit related)
Dancing in clubs and some more random places
Practicing Spanish with lots of locals
Monkey watching and iguana dodging in Manuel Antonio National Park
Snorkeling, tanning, and surfing in Bocas del Toro
Dipping in Hot Springs in Boquete
Coffee tour of, literally, the best coffee in the world. 3 times international gold medal winner. Tastes pretty good. Coffee!!!
Learning how to keep in touch with my friends. Still learning.
Hacking (the sport, not the cough), eating tuna, reading, visiting gardens, exploring, hiking, experimenting with super cheap cooking, torturing a cat (training, we call it), growing a mustache, and I´m burnt out on trying to remember more.
Gotta run, I´ve got a Dutch card game to try and learn. I´ll update more later. If you´re reading this, that means you care about me. Thank you! Much love to all, even those who aren´t reading this and don´t care about me.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Pura Vida
Where to begin...
I want to avoid creating a cliche travel blog that speaks of tropical weather, waterfalls, beaches, fresh fruit, and a ridiculously leisurely life...but that´s exactly what I´m doing, so it´s kind of unavoidable. I arrived in the Costa Rican airport in the evening, slept in a corner, caught a taxi and a bus the next morning, and walked from the bus station to John´s house and got there at about 8:30am that morning. John walked home from class a couple of hours later, we had a joyful reunion, and then we got on a bus with some kids from his language school and took a ferry to Monteverde where we hiked to a gorgeous waterfall and jumped off rocks and loved the cool refreshing water--it´s hot here. All the time. I sleep with no covers every night. Then we slept on the beach, woke up, cracked open some coconuts and drank the water, then jumped in the ocean for a nice morning splash. Ridiculous. Back in Puntarenas, we set up the slack line (similar to tight rope walking) every night for sunset on the beach and good times. Unfortunately, I broke my pinky toe on my first attempt. Ouch. It´s almost better, now, after limping for a few days.
And the produce...it´s everywhere, and it´s cheap. Yesterday we found the best mango spot, with the coolest mango man in town. He cut up a bunch for us to taste, told us how to tell if they´re ripe or not, and after we bought 10 (50 cents each) he threw in 3 for free and cut up some more for us to eat. There´s also cantaloupes, watermelons, papayas, grapes, strawberries, apples, tasty crisp little green guys that are kind of like pears, platanos, and all types of vegetables. Smoothies every day, it´s amazing.
I´m sleeping on John´s floor right now, and working on building an extra platform for my very own bed. His roommates are super mellow, and they love me and said I can stay as long as I like. Most of the people in his program are doing home stays, but he met up with another kid in the airport and they decided to get a house with some other students, and so they have one of the only houses without a host family in the whole program--which means, of course, that it is the party house. There are people there all the time. It´s fun a lot of the time, but sometimes we all just want to mellow out and study and read, and there´s always people coming over trying to hang out. But, in the end, I think it´s worth it. Last night I broke out the ukulele and John brought out some pots and pans and we had a freestyle jam session, everybody taking turns singing lyrics or making nonsense sounds, for about 30 min. Good times. Pura Vida.
John and I also set up some conversation partners at the local university, so we go and practice our Spanish skills every week. It´s a huge help! And I met one of their professors last night, too. He was hanging out with us on the beach while we were slack lining, and he came back to our house for the jam session. He gave me some impromptu lessons, and told me to come by his office today to pick up some materials for grammar exercises. He told me that I spoke very well and that I just needed to practice, but that grammar can be very helpful and so he has some materials for me. Good deal!
Life is good here. Things are much more relaxed, I´m much more relaxed, I´m doing things that I love like exploring beautiful places and meeting people and making spontaneous music, my Spanish is improving, the food is delicious, cheap, and plentiful, and I´m just living day to day, letting life brew up what it will, pursuing what I´m inspired to pursue...it´s beautiful. I´ve started meditating in the mornings and doing yoga, and cultivating a more peaceful inner Glenn--very important, if you´ve ever spent some time in my head. Kinda spooky in there.
Gotta run, our conversation partners await!
I want to avoid creating a cliche travel blog that speaks of tropical weather, waterfalls, beaches, fresh fruit, and a ridiculously leisurely life...but that´s exactly what I´m doing, so it´s kind of unavoidable. I arrived in the Costa Rican airport in the evening, slept in a corner, caught a taxi and a bus the next morning, and walked from the bus station to John´s house and got there at about 8:30am that morning. John walked home from class a couple of hours later, we had a joyful reunion, and then we got on a bus with some kids from his language school and took a ferry to Monteverde where we hiked to a gorgeous waterfall and jumped off rocks and loved the cool refreshing water--it´s hot here. All the time. I sleep with no covers every night. Then we slept on the beach, woke up, cracked open some coconuts and drank the water, then jumped in the ocean for a nice morning splash. Ridiculous. Back in Puntarenas, we set up the slack line (similar to tight rope walking) every night for sunset on the beach and good times. Unfortunately, I broke my pinky toe on my first attempt. Ouch. It´s almost better, now, after limping for a few days.
And the produce...it´s everywhere, and it´s cheap. Yesterday we found the best mango spot, with the coolest mango man in town. He cut up a bunch for us to taste, told us how to tell if they´re ripe or not, and after we bought 10 (50 cents each) he threw in 3 for free and cut up some more for us to eat. There´s also cantaloupes, watermelons, papayas, grapes, strawberries, apples, tasty crisp little green guys that are kind of like pears, platanos, and all types of vegetables. Smoothies every day, it´s amazing.
I´m sleeping on John´s floor right now, and working on building an extra platform for my very own bed. His roommates are super mellow, and they love me and said I can stay as long as I like. Most of the people in his program are doing home stays, but he met up with another kid in the airport and they decided to get a house with some other students, and so they have one of the only houses without a host family in the whole program--which means, of course, that it is the party house. There are people there all the time. It´s fun a lot of the time, but sometimes we all just want to mellow out and study and read, and there´s always people coming over trying to hang out. But, in the end, I think it´s worth it. Last night I broke out the ukulele and John brought out some pots and pans and we had a freestyle jam session, everybody taking turns singing lyrics or making nonsense sounds, for about 30 min. Good times. Pura Vida.
John and I also set up some conversation partners at the local university, so we go and practice our Spanish skills every week. It´s a huge help! And I met one of their professors last night, too. He was hanging out with us on the beach while we were slack lining, and he came back to our house for the jam session. He gave me some impromptu lessons, and told me to come by his office today to pick up some materials for grammar exercises. He told me that I spoke very well and that I just needed to practice, but that grammar can be very helpful and so he has some materials for me. Good deal!
Life is good here. Things are much more relaxed, I´m much more relaxed, I´m doing things that I love like exploring beautiful places and meeting people and making spontaneous music, my Spanish is improving, the food is delicious, cheap, and plentiful, and I´m just living day to day, letting life brew up what it will, pursuing what I´m inspired to pursue...it´s beautiful. I´ve started meditating in the mornings and doing yoga, and cultivating a more peaceful inner Glenn--very important, if you´ve ever spent some time in my head. Kinda spooky in there.
Gotta run, our conversation partners await!
Monday, February 4, 2008
Mission Bay to Ventura--SOLO!
This next leg of the journey was about 120 nautical miles as the crow flies, 160 nm as the boat sails. It turned out to be 36 hours at sea. I don't know where to begin. If you've never spent 36 hours at sea as the captain and crew and sole occupant of a small craft....well....it's not for everyone. I'm not even sure it's for me. For the first 6 hours I was cursing up and down the deck, blaspheming the sport of sailing, and generally screaming at the world. I can't remember the last time I was so frustrated and annoyed. The weather report had said there would be a west wind, which would have been great because I could have held a nice port tack all the way up the coast, never needing to adjust the sails or really do anything. But, as the fates would have it, I got a northwest wind, a wind coming directly out of the direction in which I wanted to be heading. Now, it's not impossible to sail into a headwind--all you have to do is cut across the wind at about a 45 degree angle, back and forth, back and forth, covering about 3 times as much distance as you would otherwise have to, and working about 5 times as hard. No, make that 10 times as hard. Which is exactly what I did. And nothing was easy. My lines were always crossed or hung up, the auto pilot was screwing up, the swell was coming directly out of the west, broadsiding the boat most of the time, and I was moving at a paltry 3 knots--and not even in the direction I wanted to go! Screaming. At everything. Cranky Glenn. It's a good thing I was alone. Brady, remember when you were sailing and I was sleeping, and I woke up because you were standing on the cabin top cursing? Then you finally stopped cursing, got real quiet for a few seconds, and then screamed? Sorry I laughed.
After the first 6 hours, the winds calmed down a bit, which made it less difficult to make headway in a northwesterly direction. Around midnight, the winds died altogether--not a breath. So I fired up the motor and set a course, then went below and slept fitfully, waking every hour or so to make sure there weren't any cargo ships bearing down on me. I was able to get enough sleep to be alert when the sun came up and the winds picked up again, and I was able to sail the rest of the way to Ventura. For this leg, I was singing, talking to myself, and praising the joys of being alone on the ocean, captain of my own vessel, master of my world.
So, I can't say one way or the other how I feel about solo sailing. At times I absolutely despised it, and at times I absolutely loved it. In retrospect, I feel much more capable and confident on the ocean, and I feel a bit more salty as well. It was a good experience, and I made it to Ventura safely, where my boat is currently docked, safe and sound, for the next few months.
How do I feel about all of this? Let's reflect for a moment, shall we? Back in....August? Brady and a I shared a brief moment of wide eyed optimism at the crazy idea of finding a boat and sailing it to Mexico. Between the two of us, we had a sum total of very little experience. A kind man recognized this passion and basically gave me his boat--the only feasible way this dream could have been possible, really. After a month of practicing and taking lessons on the San Francisco Bay, and after another month of fixing the boat up to make it ocean ready, we held a party and invited our friends to see us off, and the next day we set sail--for adventure! To Mexico!
And by gum, we made it. No one died. We didn't destroy the boat, or anything else. We had an epic adventure, an experience I wouldn't trade for anything (well, maybe I'd trade it for the spontaneous collective evolution of our species. Maybe). A whole new world--the world of sailing, boating, cruising, and all of the crazies that go with it--has opened up to us. And we've got stories for a lifetime.
Was it anything like we expected it to be? No, not really. Did we get as far as we wanted to? Definitely not. But we accomplished something that many said we couldn't. I have no regrets--no, more than that, I feel triumphant. And, perhaps most importantly, I developed a deeper connection with an old friend, and the value of that is priceless. We're still on emailing terms, even.
What's next? Well, for the past few days, I've been enjoying the bottomless hospitality of the Neuman family, Michaela's folks here in Ventura. They have taken me in, cleaned me up, and talked me down from the heights of my sea-fever, to the point where I am now able to interact with regular people again. I found out that I've got an old friend in Costa Rica right now, and learned that there are many high quality language schools down there--not to mention volcanos, rain forests, and great surf--and so last night I bought myself a one-way ticket! I leave Wednesday, and I return... sometime. I'll be in California next summer for the weddings of some of my dearest friends, and that's the only deadline I've got. Unless a financial deadline makes itself imperative. Which reminds me, I'm accepting donations. Simply contact my financial advisor (mom) at 510-531-2726 for all of your donation needs. All tax deductible. Just request a receipt.
Thanks to everyone who has supported our adventure thus far. If I've learned anything, I've learned that a strong network of wonderful friends and family is one of the most valuable things I can strive for. I am truly blessed.
After the first 6 hours, the winds calmed down a bit, which made it less difficult to make headway in a northwesterly direction. Around midnight, the winds died altogether--not a breath. So I fired up the motor and set a course, then went below and slept fitfully, waking every hour or so to make sure there weren't any cargo ships bearing down on me. I was able to get enough sleep to be alert when the sun came up and the winds picked up again, and I was able to sail the rest of the way to Ventura. For this leg, I was singing, talking to myself, and praising the joys of being alone on the ocean, captain of my own vessel, master of my world.
So, I can't say one way or the other how I feel about solo sailing. At times I absolutely despised it, and at times I absolutely loved it. In retrospect, I feel much more capable and confident on the ocean, and I feel a bit more salty as well. It was a good experience, and I made it to Ventura safely, where my boat is currently docked, safe and sound, for the next few months.
How do I feel about all of this? Let's reflect for a moment, shall we? Back in....August? Brady and a I shared a brief moment of wide eyed optimism at the crazy idea of finding a boat and sailing it to Mexico. Between the two of us, we had a sum total of very little experience. A kind man recognized this passion and basically gave me his boat--the only feasible way this dream could have been possible, really. After a month of practicing and taking lessons on the San Francisco Bay, and after another month of fixing the boat up to make it ocean ready, we held a party and invited our friends to see us off, and the next day we set sail--for adventure! To Mexico!
And by gum, we made it. No one died. We didn't destroy the boat, or anything else. We had an epic adventure, an experience I wouldn't trade for anything (well, maybe I'd trade it for the spontaneous collective evolution of our species. Maybe). A whole new world--the world of sailing, boating, cruising, and all of the crazies that go with it--has opened up to us. And we've got stories for a lifetime.
Was it anything like we expected it to be? No, not really. Did we get as far as we wanted to? Definitely not. But we accomplished something that many said we couldn't. I have no regrets--no, more than that, I feel triumphant. And, perhaps most importantly, I developed a deeper connection with an old friend, and the value of that is priceless. We're still on emailing terms, even.
What's next? Well, for the past few days, I've been enjoying the bottomless hospitality of the Neuman family, Michaela's folks here in Ventura. They have taken me in, cleaned me up, and talked me down from the heights of my sea-fever, to the point where I am now able to interact with regular people again. I found out that I've got an old friend in Costa Rica right now, and learned that there are many high quality language schools down there--not to mention volcanos, rain forests, and great surf--and so last night I bought myself a one-way ticket! I leave Wednesday, and I return... sometime. I'll be in California next summer for the weddings of some of my dearest friends, and that's the only deadline I've got. Unless a financial deadline makes itself imperative. Which reminds me, I'm accepting donations. Simply contact my financial advisor (mom) at 510-531-2726 for all of your donation needs. All tax deductible. Just request a receipt.
Thanks to everyone who has supported our adventure thus far. If I've learned anything, I've learned that a strong network of wonderful friends and family is one of the most valuable things I can strive for. I am truly blessed.
Slab City
In the summer of 2006, Krystal and I got a ride across the country, from Flagstaff to North Carolina, via a craigslist connection, Esteban. Knowing he lived in San Diego, I gave him a call while I was anchored in Mission Bay, and he told me he was taking off the next evening to go to Slab City. Folks, if you don't know anything about Slab City, I highly recommend a visit. It is a crazy trailer refuge out in the desert outside of San Diego, where a bunch of crazies set up camp on BLM land and scrape by. They have an outdoor "stage" set up, which consists of a plywood platform framed by a couple of derelict trailers, with rows and rows of decrepit greyhound seats lined up for the audience. Well, we went out there for their famous talent show, where a bunch of old guys and gals get up on stage and play classic rock, folk songs, and whatever else comes to mind. Any aspiring writers should be sure to do some character research here.
After a few hours and a few beers, one of the wandering recruiters convinced me to get up on stage and play a few, so I did, and I got Esteban to come up and play his harps (its never hard to convince him) and asked a couple of old ladies to sing harmony with me, and we put on a little show. What fun. I'm terrified of the stage, but I love it too. 2nd time ever. We did pretty good.
I wish I could send you guys some pictures, but unfortunately my camera has not yet woke from the dead. I don't think it ever will. I'll try and pick one up to keep my readership visually stimulated.
After a few hours and a few beers, one of the wandering recruiters convinced me to get up on stage and play a few, so I did, and I got Esteban to come up and play his harps (its never hard to convince him) and asked a couple of old ladies to sing harmony with me, and we put on a little show. What fun. I'm terrified of the stage, but I love it too. 2nd time ever. We did pretty good.
I wish I could send you guys some pictures, but unfortunately my camera has not yet woke from the dead. I don't think it ever will. I'll try and pick one up to keep my readership visually stimulated.
San Diego to Mission Bay
When I ran out of days at the Public Dock in San Diego, I moved the pleasure yacht Kalakas north about 15 miles to Mission Bay, a small little bay with a few harbors but, more importantly, a free anchorage area. The 3 hour journey from San Diego to Mission Bay was my first solo sail on the Ocean--a nice introduction to the new challenges sailing short handed offers. The trip would have been uneventful if it weren't for one little detail I let slip my mind. Cruising out of San Diego Harbor--where I was assaulted by the Harbor Patrol one last joyous time for being within 1/2 mile of an approaching, invisible sub--I set up the auto pilot and lay back for a relaxing motor sail north up the coast (unfortunately, there wasn't quite enough wind to make reasonable progress). I was just entering a blissful state of relaxation when I heard the engine throttle down unexpectedly, running a bit rough. Oh no. Not again. I jumped up and took a quick look at my surroundings to assess what the problem could be. There are so many variables in ocean boating, especially sailing, and so you have to get used to juggling all the myriad little details that must be attended to: What's the wind doing? Where's it coming from? How about the swell? Is the auto pilot set properly? Any boats in my way? What course should I be setting? Any sunken obstacles? Shipping lanes? How's the canvas look? Adjusted properly? How much battery life do I have left? Fuel? How's the oil pressure? Is the engine cooling water running freely? Any lines dragging in the water? And so on and so forth. Well, I took a gander, and realized that I had unwittingly sailed right into the middle of a kelp bed. Not too much of a problem if you've got a good strong wind to push you through, but if you don't and you're running the motor, you're in trouble. Kelp wraps around the prop and can stall the motor, or render the prop useless unless you dive and clear it. The kelp can clog up the engine cooling water intake, blocking water from cooling the motor, fouling the impeller and the cooling passages, you can lose maneuverability and drift freely...many problems. Quick as a whistle I shut off the motor, which had slowed when the prop got wrapped in kelp. I caught it quick, so there was a good chance I wouldn't have to dive, but that was yet to be determined. First things first, how do I get out of the kelp bed? Luckily, there was just enough wind to give me enough forward momentum to drift out of the bed at about a half a knot. So I bobbed and drifted for about 15 minutes and finally made it clear, avoiding a crab boat that was close to my path. Once out, I fired up the motor in neutral and saw very little cooling water coming out of the engine. Great. Figuring I was going to have to dive to clear the intake, I gave it one desperate shot and swept the boat hook around in the water, scraping it along the hull in the general area of the intake. Cleared! Thank goodness. Next, put it in reverse to try to unwind the kelp. Not bad. I used the boat hook again and pulled up the kelp that was obviously trailing behind the boat by the prop, and pulled on it good and hard and got it free. Lucky. Try forward...no stalling...seems ok...good! Sweet relief. I can tell you, I was not excited about jumping into the 50 degree water, alone, behind the drifting boat, to dive below and try to mess around under there. I'd done that once in Punta Banda where I had to cut an errant dock line loose from the prop shaft where it had become entangled. Buck naked, I might add, while Liam's uncle and sisters watched. Argggh, maties!
So, without further shenanigans, I got the boat the rest of the way to Mission Bay, anchored single handedly (Brady, you can appreciate how difficult that was), and spent a couple of uneventful nights at anchor while waiting for a weather window to get up to Ventura, where I found an affordable slip.
So, without further shenanigans, I got the boat the rest of the way to Mission Bay, anchored single handedly (Brady, you can appreciate how difficult that was), and spent a couple of uneventful nights at anchor while waiting for a weather window to get up to Ventura, where I found an affordable slip.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Down Time
Ahhhh, there's nothing like finding a passion, giving it everything you've got, and then enjoying the benefits of your hard work. That's exactly what I'm doing, here in beautiful.....San Diego. Oh, sweet San Diego. I relish the moments I've spent at your Police Dock, the miles I've walked over and over again from the remote location of the Public Dock to the nearest bus stop, and your complete lack of accessible, affordable marinas. I'll cherish these days forever.
Anybody want to live on a boat for 4-6 months? All you have to pay is the slip fee, which in San Diego, is reasonably priced at just %150 more than the slips in the Bay Area! What a deal? Ok, so maybe my tone is a bit sarcastic. Frankly, I'm a just a wee bit frustrated with the boating facilities in San Diego. Since Brady decided to move on from the sailing profession, and since I didn't have any luck finding a replacement (honestly, who could?) I've decided to put the boat in storage for the remainder of my travel time. I seriously considered sailing solo around the tip of Baja and up into the Sea of Cortez, but it's a pretty long journey (twice the distance we already covered) and there are virtually no facilities between Ensenada and Los Cabos, nor is there a reliable Mexican rescue fleet, nor are there reliable weather reports on the VHF (you need a single side band receiver to get good weather reports). All things considered, I decided against risking my life in Mexican waters. Another note, I really like my boat, and I wouldn't be able to sail it back to the US from the Sea of Cortez in time to be home for summer. If I did make it to the Sea of Cortez, I'd most likely be leaving my boat there in Guaymas, where you can dry dock it for about $100 a month, an amazing deal. But then, I wouldn't have access to my boat back in SF, and I'd really like to live on it when I get home. So, I'm looking for an affordable marina in which to keep the boat for a few months. It's looking like I'm going to have to single-handle the boat back up north a ways, maybe to Ventura, where there are some affordable slips.
Once the boat is safe and sound, I think I'll probably head to Mexico City, maybe on a flight, maybe on a bus, and get to Guadalajara where I've heard about a good language school. I think I'd really like to do a language program. What better way to get to know a place, and really be able to interact with the people? The program has a home-stay option, which could be pretty epic, too. One of the reasons I decided to go to on this adventure was to learn Spanish. My Spanish has improved quite a bit since getting to Mexico, but I still can't really have a real conversation with people. I can get around and get what I need, but true communication is still pretty difficult. So, if anyone has any suggestions for other language schools, send them my way.
So, that's the logistics update. What have Brady and I been up to, you may ask? We toured all over Baja with Liam and Kristen, stopping off on both coasts--the Sea of Cortez for beauty and tranquility, and the Pacific side for surfing and ocean grandeur. We had an amazing time. Baja is truly gorgeous. Sadly, it is in the throws of being discovered and exploited by the affluent population of the good ole US of A. Land everywhere is being sold to gringos, and new developments are springing up like crazy. We passed several sleepy little towns, as Liam and Brady remember them from years past, that now have a full fledged paved road, complete with street lights and roundabouts, running along side new sub-divided lots with sidewalks and driveways and nothing else, just ready for a new summer home. It's pretty crazy. Now is the time to invest in Baja property, that's for sure.
When Liam and Kristin were ready to head back up north, Brady and I stayed on in La Paz at a nice little hostel called Pension California, $23/night for a double with your own bathroom/shower. Not bad. Certainly luxurious after sleeping on the beach for a couple of weeks. La Paz is a really nice city. The people don't seem jaded by too many gringos (yet) and everyone was very nice to us. Actually, we kind of felt like celebrities. At least I did. We met some other travelers at the hostel, and we went out on the town for a couple of nights to party like rock stars. We went to this one place called "The Jungle," which is a great spot to go to if you like to stand shoulder to shoulder with a lot of groups of friends and listen to loud music with no dance floor. Sadly, that's not exactly what Brady and I were looking for, so we wandered around a bit and met some Mexican girls who took us to the legit place. This place was awesome! There was confetti all over the floor, and an 8-piece Mexican band with an awesome horn section and your typical wailing singer. Everybody was doing the Mexico two-step, and Brady and I were promptly snatched up by some girls and we spent the next 4 hours or so dancing the night away with the local ladies. Great night. Brady left a little before me, and when I finally came back to the hostel he was sleeping on the couch in the lobby(I had our only key. Sorry Brady).
From La Paz, we started hitch hiking rides back north to get back to the boat. Getting a ride out of La Paz was a snap, and this nice kid who was working on a sport fishing boat gave us a ride north about 200 miles to Villa Insurgentes where his mom made us all sandwiches. Then, he decided to keep on going north to Loreto to "get some supplies," but I think he was really just helping us out. Thanks, Chris. What a guy.
If you're ever in Baja, avoid Loreto like the plague. It's filled with criminals and cops. At first glance, it looks like a lovely little town, but we got ripped off 3 times in one night, and the next day when we tried to get a ride out of town, we spent 12 hours on the freeway with not a single ride. Then, a drunk guy tried to pick a fight with us and threatened to call up his buddies in the Mexican military (the Federales) and tell them to come mess with us. Finally, we walked back into town and caught a bus to Mulege, my personal favorite town in Baja. We enjoyed Mulege for a night and a day, and then caught a bus to Ensenada where we runited with Emilio, the friendly Mexican fisherman who was watching my boat for me. I don't think I've mentioned Emilio in the blog yet, have I? Oh, Emilio. I could go on about Emilio for hours.
We first met Emilio when we anchored for the first time off of Punta Banda. We were lounging on deck, soaking up the sun, when Emilio "rowed" by. I use the term "rowed" loosely, because Emilio's oars were about the most pathetic boat propulsion devices imaginable. Brady wants to put them in a museum. He and Brady chatted for a bit, and then Emilio slowly rowed off to catch some fish. The next time we met Emilio was on Christmas morning. The swell had picked up, and where the boat was anchored was a bit too close for the surf zone, so we went down to the place where all the local fishermen, or "Pangas," anchor their dingies to see if we could get a ride to the boat. The surf was too big for our little dinghy. Being Christmas morning, there was no one around to ask for a ride--no one, that is, but Emilio and his brother. And they were piss drunk at about 10am. I can't really repeat what he may have been saying to us, because I couldn't understand a word of it, but Brady surmised that he had a friend who could maybe take us, so he got in the car with us to direct us to his friend's house and immediately passed out. Every 5 minutes or so we'd nudge him and he'd just say, "derecho, derecho," which means "straight, straight." Eventually, we turned off the road onto a ridiculously steep dirt road that went up the hillside, and after making 8 or 9 turns (I swear we went in a circle at least once), we drove by a house that looked empty and Emilio told us that his friend wasn't there. By this time, I was getting pretty nervous about my boat, since the tide was going out and the surf was getting closer to the boat. We took Emilio home and went back to the Casa McAuliffe, and Brady and I put on wetsuits and decided to try to paddle the two kayaks at the house through the surf zone. Liam later told us that he would have bet 100 bucks that we wouldn't get out. But we had to get out. No one was going to give us a ride, and the boat was going to get tossed on the beach by waves. So, we tackled the mighty surf, and after getting completely tossed and washed all the way back to shore, we finally made it out, paddling like mad to make it past that last wall of water before it broke on our heads, and moving the boat safely to a better anchorage.
The third time we saw Emilio was when Brady and I took some of Liam's family out for a pleasure/fishing cruise. We went back down to the same little Panga area, where Emilio lives in a little yellow house with his aging mother and his brother, found Emilio, and asked him to give us a ride to our boat. He told us that he'd be happy to, but that his friend had taken his gas tank so he'd have to row us out there. Well, sure, ok. We all pile in this old wooden boat that looks as though it was raised from the deep and fiberglass-patched to help it hold together a bit better, and Emilio proceeds to row us the 1/2 mile out to the bobbing boat. He just stood there facing forward, quietly and patiently rowing us all out to the boat. After a day of sailing and fishing, we came back and anchored, and there was Emilio, rowing out to us to pick us up. That man is so kind and patient and humble, I really have to respect him for that. He was always so good natured and eager to help us out. Of course, we gave him some money for his services.
When we decided to anchor the boat and go on the road trip, we anchored it right in front of Emilio's house (the best anchorage in the area), and waited for the pre-arranged ride back to the shore. And waited. And waited. The wind had picked up quite a bit, and the swell had built as well. We waited. Brady started inching towards his favorite corner of the boat, where he spends most of his time when things are getting rough. No Emilio. Liam showed up in his car, ready to pick us up for the road trip, and talked to Emilio. Waves too big. Can't pick us up. So sorry, so sorry. Sigh. So, we pumped up our little inflatable (the one that leaks air and takes on water) and battened down the hatches, lashed our bags in the boat, and set off with our little plastic oars to tackle the surf, again. The wind was blowing, and the swell was big, but we felt pretty secure in our dinghy. Granted, we pretty much knew from the start that, once we got into the surf zone, we were going over. But we were ready for that. Everything was lashed into the boat, and our valuables were in the dry bag. Here comes the surf. We're gonna go over, Brady. Yeah, I know Glenn. Here it comes! Keep the boat straight! We're riding it, we're riding it....we're turning sideways, we're turning sideways....Whoa!! (Splash). Flip the boat back over! Flip the boat back over! Where are the oars?! We got them both? Ok, let's get to shore! No, no, don't get back in the boat, the water's only up to our chests. Hey, what's this in my pocket? Oh, it's my cell phone. Oops. And what's this? Ah, of course, my camera. Why didn't I put those in the dry bag? Oh yeah, mind clouded by adrenaline. Sigh. Hi, Liam. Yeah, we're ready, let's go. Slosh, squish, slosh, squish....
We left the dingy with Emilio, and paid him some money to keep his eye on the boat. There was another boat anchored in the same area, actually, but Emilio didn't know whose it was. Well, it turns out that whosever it was, they weren't very good seamen, because when Brady and I returned 3 weeks later and saw that our boat was in the exact same place we left it, but the other one was gone, Emilio let us know (faithful Emilio, who had watched our boat bob through 3 days of stormy wind and waves) that the other boat had dragged anchor and beached on shore, where it was promptly raided of all valuables and scrapped. Ouch. I don't envy that boat owner.
Emilio had guarded our dinghy for us for 3 weeks, and kept watch over our boat during the rough weather. He rowed us out to our boat many times, and he made us welcome in his meager home whenever we may return. Thanks for everything, Emilio. Best wishes.
So, after parting ways with Emilio for the last time, we sailed the boat to Ensenada, cleared out of Mexico, and split for San Diego, all in the same day. After a day in San Diego, Brady had finalized his plans for his 3 week stint to Argentina, where warmer weather and a beautiful women await him, and he flew out the next day. Thus ends the misadventures of Captain Howe and First Mate Brady Lang. May they have many more adventures in the future. Perhaps the Sea of Cortez is in our future in the next year or two, who can tell?
And now I sit in an internet Cafe in San Diego, awaiting emails from harbors and marinas, trying to find a home for Kalakas for the next few months. I met a couple of kids in the harbor the other day, and we've been hanging out. Two guys. Just bought a boat together. Getting ready to sail to Mexico. No sailing experience. Life is funny like that, eh? The march of the adventurous, clueless spirit goes on indefinitely. I gave them all the advice I could, from the weeks of working on the boat to the weeks of planning to the weeks of sailing. I even lent them some of my boating guides, since they didn't have any. Keep them in your thoughts, they'll need all the positive energy we can muster. I daresay they're even more clueless than Brady and I were, if that's possible. They didn't hesitate to tell me that my story gives them much hope for their own success. I told them to stop by and tell Emilio I said hello.
So there, I updated the blog. Whew. Sorry for the long delay. I'll keep everyone posted on whatever comes my way. If anyone wants to sail from San Diego to Ventura, that may be happening. If anyone wants to live on my boat for a half a year and pay the slip fees, that's an option, too. My cell phone took a nice 3 week break from functionality after it's salt water bath, then enjoyed a 3 day period of rejuvenation, and now it seems to be sick again. So, if anyone wants to get in touch with me, email continues to be the best option. All my love to all my dear friends and family!
Anybody want to live on a boat for 4-6 months? All you have to pay is the slip fee, which in San Diego, is reasonably priced at just %150 more than the slips in the Bay Area! What a deal? Ok, so maybe my tone is a bit sarcastic. Frankly, I'm a just a wee bit frustrated with the boating facilities in San Diego. Since Brady decided to move on from the sailing profession, and since I didn't have any luck finding a replacement (honestly, who could?) I've decided to put the boat in storage for the remainder of my travel time. I seriously considered sailing solo around the tip of Baja and up into the Sea of Cortez, but it's a pretty long journey (twice the distance we already covered) and there are virtually no facilities between Ensenada and Los Cabos, nor is there a reliable Mexican rescue fleet, nor are there reliable weather reports on the VHF (you need a single side band receiver to get good weather reports). All things considered, I decided against risking my life in Mexican waters. Another note, I really like my boat, and I wouldn't be able to sail it back to the US from the Sea of Cortez in time to be home for summer. If I did make it to the Sea of Cortez, I'd most likely be leaving my boat there in Guaymas, where you can dry dock it for about $100 a month, an amazing deal. But then, I wouldn't have access to my boat back in SF, and I'd really like to live on it when I get home. So, I'm looking for an affordable marina in which to keep the boat for a few months. It's looking like I'm going to have to single-handle the boat back up north a ways, maybe to Ventura, where there are some affordable slips.
Once the boat is safe and sound, I think I'll probably head to Mexico City, maybe on a flight, maybe on a bus, and get to Guadalajara where I've heard about a good language school. I think I'd really like to do a language program. What better way to get to know a place, and really be able to interact with the people? The program has a home-stay option, which could be pretty epic, too. One of the reasons I decided to go to on this adventure was to learn Spanish. My Spanish has improved quite a bit since getting to Mexico, but I still can't really have a real conversation with people. I can get around and get what I need, but true communication is still pretty difficult. So, if anyone has any suggestions for other language schools, send them my way.
So, that's the logistics update. What have Brady and I been up to, you may ask? We toured all over Baja with Liam and Kristen, stopping off on both coasts--the Sea of Cortez for beauty and tranquility, and the Pacific side for surfing and ocean grandeur. We had an amazing time. Baja is truly gorgeous. Sadly, it is in the throws of being discovered and exploited by the affluent population of the good ole US of A. Land everywhere is being sold to gringos, and new developments are springing up like crazy. We passed several sleepy little towns, as Liam and Brady remember them from years past, that now have a full fledged paved road, complete with street lights and roundabouts, running along side new sub-divided lots with sidewalks and driveways and nothing else, just ready for a new summer home. It's pretty crazy. Now is the time to invest in Baja property, that's for sure.
When Liam and Kristin were ready to head back up north, Brady and I stayed on in La Paz at a nice little hostel called Pension California, $23/night for a double with your own bathroom/shower. Not bad. Certainly luxurious after sleeping on the beach for a couple of weeks. La Paz is a really nice city. The people don't seem jaded by too many gringos (yet) and everyone was very nice to us. Actually, we kind of felt like celebrities. At least I did. We met some other travelers at the hostel, and we went out on the town for a couple of nights to party like rock stars. We went to this one place called "The Jungle," which is a great spot to go to if you like to stand shoulder to shoulder with a lot of groups of friends and listen to loud music with no dance floor. Sadly, that's not exactly what Brady and I were looking for, so we wandered around a bit and met some Mexican girls who took us to the legit place. This place was awesome! There was confetti all over the floor, and an 8-piece Mexican band with an awesome horn section and your typical wailing singer. Everybody was doing the Mexico two-step, and Brady and I were promptly snatched up by some girls and we spent the next 4 hours or so dancing the night away with the local ladies. Great night. Brady left a little before me, and when I finally came back to the hostel he was sleeping on the couch in the lobby(I had our only key. Sorry Brady).
From La Paz, we started hitch hiking rides back north to get back to the boat. Getting a ride out of La Paz was a snap, and this nice kid who was working on a sport fishing boat gave us a ride north about 200 miles to Villa Insurgentes where his mom made us all sandwiches. Then, he decided to keep on going north to Loreto to "get some supplies," but I think he was really just helping us out. Thanks, Chris. What a guy.
If you're ever in Baja, avoid Loreto like the plague. It's filled with criminals and cops. At first glance, it looks like a lovely little town, but we got ripped off 3 times in one night, and the next day when we tried to get a ride out of town, we spent 12 hours on the freeway with not a single ride. Then, a drunk guy tried to pick a fight with us and threatened to call up his buddies in the Mexican military (the Federales) and tell them to come mess with us. Finally, we walked back into town and caught a bus to Mulege, my personal favorite town in Baja. We enjoyed Mulege for a night and a day, and then caught a bus to Ensenada where we runited with Emilio, the friendly Mexican fisherman who was watching my boat for me. I don't think I've mentioned Emilio in the blog yet, have I? Oh, Emilio. I could go on about Emilio for hours.
We first met Emilio when we anchored for the first time off of Punta Banda. We were lounging on deck, soaking up the sun, when Emilio "rowed" by. I use the term "rowed" loosely, because Emilio's oars were about the most pathetic boat propulsion devices imaginable. Brady wants to put them in a museum. He and Brady chatted for a bit, and then Emilio slowly rowed off to catch some fish. The next time we met Emilio was on Christmas morning. The swell had picked up, and where the boat was anchored was a bit too close for the surf zone, so we went down to the place where all the local fishermen, or "Pangas," anchor their dingies to see if we could get a ride to the boat. The surf was too big for our little dinghy. Being Christmas morning, there was no one around to ask for a ride--no one, that is, but Emilio and his brother. And they were piss drunk at about 10am. I can't really repeat what he may have been saying to us, because I couldn't understand a word of it, but Brady surmised that he had a friend who could maybe take us, so he got in the car with us to direct us to his friend's house and immediately passed out. Every 5 minutes or so we'd nudge him and he'd just say, "derecho, derecho," which means "straight, straight." Eventually, we turned off the road onto a ridiculously steep dirt road that went up the hillside, and after making 8 or 9 turns (I swear we went in a circle at least once), we drove by a house that looked empty and Emilio told us that his friend wasn't there. By this time, I was getting pretty nervous about my boat, since the tide was going out and the surf was getting closer to the boat. We took Emilio home and went back to the Casa McAuliffe, and Brady and I put on wetsuits and decided to try to paddle the two kayaks at the house through the surf zone. Liam later told us that he would have bet 100 bucks that we wouldn't get out. But we had to get out. No one was going to give us a ride, and the boat was going to get tossed on the beach by waves. So, we tackled the mighty surf, and after getting completely tossed and washed all the way back to shore, we finally made it out, paddling like mad to make it past that last wall of water before it broke on our heads, and moving the boat safely to a better anchorage.
The third time we saw Emilio was when Brady and I took some of Liam's family out for a pleasure/fishing cruise. We went back down to the same little Panga area, where Emilio lives in a little yellow house with his aging mother and his brother, found Emilio, and asked him to give us a ride to our boat. He told us that he'd be happy to, but that his friend had taken his gas tank so he'd have to row us out there. Well, sure, ok. We all pile in this old wooden boat that looks as though it was raised from the deep and fiberglass-patched to help it hold together a bit better, and Emilio proceeds to row us the 1/2 mile out to the bobbing boat. He just stood there facing forward, quietly and patiently rowing us all out to the boat. After a day of sailing and fishing, we came back and anchored, and there was Emilio, rowing out to us to pick us up. That man is so kind and patient and humble, I really have to respect him for that. He was always so good natured and eager to help us out. Of course, we gave him some money for his services.
When we decided to anchor the boat and go on the road trip, we anchored it right in front of Emilio's house (the best anchorage in the area), and waited for the pre-arranged ride back to the shore. And waited. And waited. The wind had picked up quite a bit, and the swell had built as well. We waited. Brady started inching towards his favorite corner of the boat, where he spends most of his time when things are getting rough. No Emilio. Liam showed up in his car, ready to pick us up for the road trip, and talked to Emilio. Waves too big. Can't pick us up. So sorry, so sorry. Sigh. So, we pumped up our little inflatable (the one that leaks air and takes on water) and battened down the hatches, lashed our bags in the boat, and set off with our little plastic oars to tackle the surf, again. The wind was blowing, and the swell was big, but we felt pretty secure in our dinghy. Granted, we pretty much knew from the start that, once we got into the surf zone, we were going over. But we were ready for that. Everything was lashed into the boat, and our valuables were in the dry bag. Here comes the surf. We're gonna go over, Brady. Yeah, I know Glenn. Here it comes! Keep the boat straight! We're riding it, we're riding it....we're turning sideways, we're turning sideways....Whoa!! (Splash). Flip the boat back over! Flip the boat back over! Where are the oars?! We got them both? Ok, let's get to shore! No, no, don't get back in the boat, the water's only up to our chests. Hey, what's this in my pocket? Oh, it's my cell phone. Oops. And what's this? Ah, of course, my camera. Why didn't I put those in the dry bag? Oh yeah, mind clouded by adrenaline. Sigh. Hi, Liam. Yeah, we're ready, let's go. Slosh, squish, slosh, squish....
We left the dingy with Emilio, and paid him some money to keep his eye on the boat. There was another boat anchored in the same area, actually, but Emilio didn't know whose it was. Well, it turns out that whosever it was, they weren't very good seamen, because when Brady and I returned 3 weeks later and saw that our boat was in the exact same place we left it, but the other one was gone, Emilio let us know (faithful Emilio, who had watched our boat bob through 3 days of stormy wind and waves) that the other boat had dragged anchor and beached on shore, where it was promptly raided of all valuables and scrapped. Ouch. I don't envy that boat owner.
Emilio had guarded our dinghy for us for 3 weeks, and kept watch over our boat during the rough weather. He rowed us out to our boat many times, and he made us welcome in his meager home whenever we may return. Thanks for everything, Emilio. Best wishes.
So, after parting ways with Emilio for the last time, we sailed the boat to Ensenada, cleared out of Mexico, and split for San Diego, all in the same day. After a day in San Diego, Brady had finalized his plans for his 3 week stint to Argentina, where warmer weather and a beautiful women await him, and he flew out the next day. Thus ends the misadventures of Captain Howe and First Mate Brady Lang. May they have many more adventures in the future. Perhaps the Sea of Cortez is in our future in the next year or two, who can tell?
And now I sit in an internet Cafe in San Diego, awaiting emails from harbors and marinas, trying to find a home for Kalakas for the next few months. I met a couple of kids in the harbor the other day, and we've been hanging out. Two guys. Just bought a boat together. Getting ready to sail to Mexico. No sailing experience. Life is funny like that, eh? The march of the adventurous, clueless spirit goes on indefinitely. I gave them all the advice I could, from the weeks of working on the boat to the weeks of planning to the weeks of sailing. I even lent them some of my boating guides, since they didn't have any. Keep them in your thoughts, they'll need all the positive energy we can muster. I daresay they're even more clueless than Brady and I were, if that's possible. They didn't hesitate to tell me that my story gives them much hope for their own success. I told them to stop by and tell Emilio I said hello.
So there, I updated the blog. Whew. Sorry for the long delay. I'll keep everyone posted on whatever comes my way. If anyone wants to sail from San Diego to Ventura, that may be happening. If anyone wants to live on my boat for a half a year and pay the slip fees, that's an option, too. My cell phone took a nice 3 week break from functionality after it's salt water bath, then enjoyed a 3 day period of rejuvenation, and now it seems to be sick again. So, if anyone wants to get in touch with me, email continues to be the best option. All my love to all my dear friends and family!
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