Diversity

One of the pleasures for us is our ability to stay put and get to know a place, weather permitting. Ensenada has been a great introduction to Mexico for us. It's the people who really make it interesting. First impressions it's run down, dirty, and loud. Second impression it's a tourist and shipping city with a decent economy, but it's more that these things. It's the diversity of the people that has started to fascinate me these last few days. So full of life and vitality. Eager to help, eager to please. It's a city where strangers will stop on the street and help when it's obvious we are lost and don't speak Spanish. Somehow it works out. Willing to offer directions, or another option, or where to get the best...(fill in the blank). It's a city of proud people. Pride in their food, history, culture, wine, and even their fish. They boast with pride that Ceviche was started here or that Ensenada is the home of the Margarita. They are a conservative people. Men still being gentlemen. Women still being ladies. There are churches abound here, and every denomination. Yesterday on the Malecon there was a group of several hundred Amish singing hymns to the Lord in Spanish. Even within that group there was diversity. Northern European, African, Spanish, Indian and Mestizo. There is also the seedy side of the city. Prostitutes and strippers are all through the tourist section. We've been offered their wares on several occasions (The grocery store I go to passes through that part of town and I move through it as quick as possible). There are the ladies at the food stalls near the fish market claiming each to have the best fish tacos and belittling the tacos of the next stall over. It's a friendly competition and very interesting to watch. The fish mongers themselves do not compete in this way, but are quietly proud of their fish and it's quality and are happy to show you the latest and freshest assortment. Then on Tuesday and Saturday the cruise ships arrive. That's when the chaos ensues. We try not to go out on these days, but it never fails to need some item or another from the market. I'm embarrassed at the way so many Americans behave when they are a guest in another country. Some of the young girls are dressed no better than the prostitutes and many are dressed worse. The young men wearing only shorts and if we are lucky they will have a t-shirt on, but the locals just accept them for their ignorance and know they will be gone in a few hours. They take the time to sell all sorts of Mexican made items to these boisterous holiday makers. Then there are is the cruising community. A mixture of sailing and power boats spread over three marinas. Some passing through (like us), some getting work done on their boats at the yard, and some using this as a base for retirement. They come together in a true spirit of community. We help each other out, and offer information about the place. After even a few weeks we start getting proud of Ensenada. I know several retirees here who couldn't imagine going back to the US or Canada. They also are part of what makes this city to fascinating to me. Our time to move on is coming up quickly, but I now I will miss this diverse and interesting city. I will take a part of it with me and be grateful for even the short glimpse into these wonderful generous, tolerant, pious, and welcoming people.

Fair Winds My Friends!

Broken Gear, a way of life?

As the post title says, broken gear is a way of life. It's part of boating. One hopes for as little broken as possible, but one should always prepare for the worst, or at least the worst one can imagine. When boaters get together the subject usually turns to "remember that night when we lost....." I'm not really sure why we talk about it, perhaps it's the badge of honor to say we'd survived a problem at sea. We've all had them. Some are simply little mishaps, others are giant "Oh Shit" moments. Scott's first was on a dear friends boat coming down the coast in 2007, the boom sheared off. For my dear friends who don't know, that's really bad! My first was our Astoria to Newport leg coming down the coast and we were in fog so thick we couldn't see 50 feet from the boat for hours. We wouldn't leave the next port until we had a radar. I took several slugs of rum upon our arrival safely at the dock that time. Problems at sea are a way of life for boaters. I think part of the reason we talk about them is to help other boaters realize they aren't alone.

Over the years we've been boating I've heard all sorts of "emergencies" at sea. Our friends who's windlass decided to fry on the way coming down the coast starting a small fire aboard. Then our friends who timed the bar crossing at Astoria and were off by quite a bit. The following seas were pushing them and they had a rather uncomfortable, to say the least, crossing. That trip had two of the most skilled sailors I've known, with countless bar crossings. I've been taking mental notes recently of the issues friends, new and old, have had coming down to Mexico. One set of friends had all sorts of issues with the boat itself: rotting wood, de-lamination, just to name two. We've recently met a couple here in Ensenada who made it 300 miles south of us only to have trouble with the transmission and need to be towed back. Then there are the little problems, fowled prop, dirty fuel, and silly mistakes from being tired that almost every boat at sometime or another experiences. We ourselves have had all of those at one time or another.

So why do we do it? I can't really say. It's different for everyone, but it's the accomplishment that keeps me going and the promise of the next port. The next port, new, unseen by us, full of some kind of wonder or another. I can't answer for the others, but for me, it's to continue to see what's out here. A spirit of adventure that is part of some humans make up. "To Boldly go" for those of us geeks. That's why when these "emergencies" at sea happen, we come into port, regroup, take a slug of rum, and then bugger on. The rewards outweigh what we might consider any inconveniences. Looking back, I usually find the situation wasn't as bad as I thought it was at the time. I now feel foolish about some of the times I've panicked. I've grown from those situations and while now I see them for what they were, I'm better for the experiences. Maybe that's the reason we sailors talk about them. There's a growth to us everyday out here. It's true, you never are to old to learn.

Fair Winds My Friends!

The Why!

I've been asked "why" we've taken so long to get here. It's actually a pretty simple answer: We needed to be able to sail. Up until our journey from Avalon to Ensenada, we'd never fully sailed with main and jib. Our entire journey down the coast had been one of motor-sailing, mostly motoring. The boat wasn't ready to move under sail alone. We were, but she wasn't. Not only did we not have her rigged, the ability to store our things was quite limited. The bunk was usually covered with gear and items we didn't want flying about the cabin, the sink was stuffed with kitchenware, and I'm not even sure where we hid the grill as it's not mounted. These have all been addressed and we and the boat are much more ready for he task of navigating the Baja Coast. We might have attempted this earlier, but we are limited on fuel and needed the ability to actually sail to conserve. She is after all a sailboat and there was no need to take her out of the US waters until she lived up to that definition.

Our other concern became apparent shortly into our trip down the coast from Oregon. We needed some sort of self steering. We now have about 1500 miles of hand steering under our belts, but to make this more enjoyable and for us not to come into port drop dead dog tired we needed a self steering system. We'd traded for one in Portland, but never had the chance to mount her. Thirteen months in Newport Beach solved that. He is now proudly mounted and added another 2 feet to our length. We named him Baron VonSteuren, as a reference to the German themed names we have given our boat and dinks (Reisender-Traveler, Komen-Coming, Gehen-Going). Steuren is the German word for Steering. We though it was pretty clever. We'll we christened him and he did a great job. During our 27 hour passage we only had to hand steer for about 8 or 9 hours of it. During the day we could just sit and read in the cockpit and look around every few minutes. Our course took us far enough off shore that we were pretty much alone and in deep enough waters we didn't need to worry about crab pots. It was a relief coming into port a little bit more rested. Our usual routine was check into the marina and sleep. Now we check into the marina, eat, and then sleep. A little better I think!

Fair Winds My Friends!

70 Miles and a New Attitude

We're coming to a close on our first week in Mexico and I've begun to notice little differences in the attitudes of Mexicans in this area and the fast paced life lived up in the United States. It's just little things and I don't mean the whole "Manana" lifestyle. As a matter of fact, I haven't seen any of that since we arrived. My experiences so far have been of a hard working friendly people. They go out of their way to make us comfortable and welcome, but what I most see is a trust I no longer see in the United States. I didn't realize it until coming here. Our first experience with it is when trying to pay for something. Example: our first day here and we filled out our paperwork for the marina. In the US you pay in advance, after they have checked your insurance, credit, etc. Here when I asked if he needed a card or payment in advance his response was bewilderment. Why would we want to pay in advance, he doesn't even know our bill yet. OK, I let that one slide, but it was my first culture shock. Another example is when I went to do laundry. American coin laundry you put your coins in and go from there. Another form of paying in advance, but here the attendant puts a token in and keeps track of everything for you and you pay on the way out. It's all about trust. It's the first of what I'm sure will be many cultural differences, but I have to it's refreshing to be trusted by a stranger. I'm hoping this isn't just an Ensenada thing but something we find through Mexico.

Fair Winds My Friends!

Avalon to Ensenada

Welcome to Ensenada! That's what the sign said as we motored into the harbor on Tuesday afternoon. It was a bright sunny and warm day. We'd left Avalon, on Catalina Island, 10:45 am on Monday. It was completely calm as we left the harbor. Barely a ripple on the water, but as we cleared the breakers we decided to raise the jib to see if we could get a little extra pull, and we did. We jump up about half a knot. Scott had that look in his eye and suggested we put up the main to see what happens. It would be the first time we used the main. Coming down the coast in 2011 was a motor sail. We never were under sail alone, except once and that was because we had engine trouble, but it was only for about 15 minutes or so and then only with the jib. This time it was full sail! We raised the main and put the motor in idle for about 15 minutes in the event of a problem. After 15 minutes, the decision was made to sail the boat with out the back up of the engine. Quiet! Complete quiet! It was breath-taking. I handed Scott the helm, the honor was his. He'd had a dream and he did so much work, it was only right he should be at the helm the first time out. His eyes shown bright with pride and accomplishment. I broke out the rum and we toasted him and the boat, as always a little for the God of the Sea. Thirty minutes later Scott handed the helm to me and he set to work on our self steering wind vane. It was a trade prior to leaving Portland and we didn't know how well it would work. Perfect is how it worked. It took Scott about 30 minutes to get her all sorted out, but once we engaged her she took over and we took a break. We simply had to check her course every 10 minutes or so and keep an eye out. It was a clear and lovely day. We only had to glance around every 5 minutes or so. We celebrated with a small glass of wine on the foredeck while Baron von Steern (our name for him, or Baron for short) did all the work. We normally don't drink underway, but we had a little celebrating to do and we were well clear of shipping lanes and land. The plan was to sail for about an hour, as we had light winds, but that turned into two which turned into 8 by the end of it all. After all we weren't in any hurry and we were making about 4 knots anyhow. Our plans had allowed for 4.5 knots just to be conservative on our time of arrival. We hadn't planned on doing so much sailing. The wind dropped shortly after nightfall and so did the main. We brought her down and tried to just do a little motor sailing. Then the wind started to vary and we were done with any sailing for the night. The wind remained fluky the rest of our voyage. We weren't upset, as it was a full moon. We could see for miles in every direction. While running the engine we thought we'd pick up a few extra knots and make up for our slowness during our sail. We did, but not enough to bring our average back up to the 4.5 we wanted, by dawn it looked as though we'd be getting in just before sunset. I hate night approaches to harbors we've never been in before, but it would be what it would be. Somewhere around 8 or 9 am the rum we gave the God of the Sea must have kicked in because we started to get a little extra push from the current. Suddenly we were cruising along at about 6 knots! We engaged Baron and were off and running again. During the night we had to hand steer due to the lack of wind, but only for about 7 hours of our full trip. Not bad! Coming down the coast in 2011 we had steered the entire 1500 miles we made. We were tired each time we made port. This time we were coming in much more rested, but a different kind of tired would over take us that evening. By the evening, it was obvious that the excitement and tension of preparing and actually making this first leg of our new life had taken a toll on both of us. We'd made it to Ensenada by 2:30 and were tied off in Baja Naval Marina by 3pm. We'd just missed the closing of the Customs and would need to remain on the boat for the night before clearing in the next day. I'm pretty sure we could have tip-toed out and no one would have cared, but as stated above we were tired and wanted to go to bed.

It was an early night and the morning even earlier. We've started to live by cruiser's mid-night. That means we are usually asleep by 2100 and awake by 0600. Well I'm awake by 0600, Scott is closer to 0730, but for those of you who know him, that's pretty damned early for him! We were up and excited as Wednesday would be our day to check into the country. I was nervous, but Rogelio, the amazing harbor master, came by and took us to his office for the first of our paper work. He handed us two two packets and told us which window to give which packet to. He took us through the process step by step and it was as easy as he said it would be, until I almost left without getting out “temporary import permit” a very important piece of paper for our boat. Legally we can now leave our boat in Mexican waters for 10 years. Scott pointed out I didn't get it and I'd simply forgotten to go to the Banjercito to pay for it and declare what items we had on board. No problem, to the window and the very nice woman behind it, 15 minutes later all done. All in all it took us about 45 to do all our paperwork and check into Mexico. Even the cats are checked in. As a matter of fact they didn't even ask about them, and I declared them on the paperwork. There is a new expression I've recently heard and Scott and I are beginning to understand “Welcome to Tim” or “This Is Mexico” and it's very refreshing. Everything seems to be so much easier and laid back. It's what we were hoping, but the hoop hopping that happens in the US had clouded our vision and I was expected things to be difficult, but what a pleasant surprise. Even upon checking into the marina I was a little surprised. When the harbor master got our info he handed us a key to the gate and said “enjoy your stay” I turned to him and ask if he'd like an imprint of the credit card or cash. He shrugged his shoulders and said “Why? I don't know what your bill is yet.” I walked out of his office feeling a little shocked by this attitude. It's the way I remember business being done when I was a kid. It's a feeling of trust and honor. What a great feeling. I think I'm gonna like it here and I better, because Mexico is our home for a good part of the rest of the year!

Fair Sailing my Friends!