New Year Musings as We Click off 1,000 miles

After our Navidad rest, we were ready to start our two-month northward journey up the Sea of Cortez, an excursion before heading back south to cross the Pacific Ocean in late March.  We started with exploration of three Isla Espirtu Santo anchorages.

Into El Empachado, a tiny cove, we were a bit disappointed to find another catamaran at anchor, one of the many charter and captained boats out of La Paz.  We anchored nearby and were rewarded by the other boat moving along, having the miniscule anchorage to ourselves.  Ahhh, heavenly.  But then, we unwittingly experienced a Mexican holiday, Dia de los Santos Inocentes.  Though based on the biblical story of King Harod ordering the massacre of children under two years in Bethlehem in a vain attempt to kill the baby Jesus, it is now a day to prey on the innocent and gullible with jokes and pranks, like April Fool’s Day in the US.  The pangas started to arrive, bringing locals and visitors, for this vacation day.  The joke was on us, as the cove and beach exploded with over 30 boats and 200 people.  At 4pm, everyone packed up and left and we had the place to ourselves again; we had to laugh at ourselves and our cultural learnings.  We still pushed on, paddle-boarding alongside sea turtles and swimming.  The next morning we had our first family snorkel, Chris teaching the three of us, as we delighted in our first experience of peaking into the underwater world.  Before we pulled anchor, I left a bit of myself in the anchorage, due to an unfortunate knife-orange-finger situation.

A short 4 mile hop to the beautiful Ensenada El Candelero (Candlestick Cove), where the winds howled and haunted us the first night, but calmed by morning. 

We paddle-boarded, swam, and went on a hike through stunning eroded rocks that led to a rock amphitheater. 

These tafoni formations are also known as honeycomb weathering or swiss-cheese rock, with rounded, smooth-edged openings in the rock surface, most often found in deserts.  Our lessons in homeschool on weathering and erosion are coming to life here.  We sang happy birthday to a fellow boat kiddo who turned 10, voices echoing off the rock walls. 

As we left this anchorage, we were treated to eagle rays flying out of the water.

The New Year’s Eve plan was to start north up Isla Espiritu Santo and grab the first small anchorage without any boats in it to lay claim with our buddy boat SV Kamala.  After a quick 1.2 mile just around the corner, we found our cove – El Mezteno.  This quiet intimate cove, surrounded by tall cliffsides, was the perfect spot to ring in the New Year. 

We paddleboarded, swam, and played on the sand beach (I feel like I’m being repetitive in our day’s activities!).  We gathered up beach wood, much lighter than Alaska wood, for a fire, shaking a small yellow scorpion out of one log.  I found myself carrying firewood a bit more carefully after that, kicking the wood and holding it out from my body.  It took a bit to light the wood, surprising us due to how dry it felt.  But, as our boating friend observed, “The wood seems a bit salty and damp…just like our bedsheets,” bringing us all to fits of laughter about the not-so-glorious side of boat life.  It felt like a bit of home to enjoy a beachfire with friends, as the dark set in, the only glow of anchor lights and stars, as well as phosphorescence as Calder paddled me back to the boat on his paddleboard. 

As we approach 6 weeks of cruising, having exceeded 1,000 miles of travel, we find ourselves settling into the rhythms of the cruising lifestyle.  Cruising is an active process, not merely a glorious passive vacation, as we make daily decisions about weather and destinations that have consequences in terms of comfort and safety. 

Passage-making itself, though awe-inspiring and in-tune to the rhythms of nature, is exhausting.  We find ourselves tired at the end of the day, joking with each other about how we can be this tired after “doing nothing” all day long.  I am learning patience with the state of simply being, taking time to rest.  This is the space where I find connection to the spirit and reflect on the growth happening.  Each of us, from 12 to 46 years old, are on our own journey of growth during this collective journey. Reflecting and writing this blog are a part of my journey; thanks for being a part of it.  

This morning, I find myself content with my cup of coffee in the cockpit as the sun rises on this foreign landscape.  The words of Wendell Berry resonate with me: “I come into the peace of wild things.”  I wish you all peace this New Year.