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!

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.

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.

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.