Woke up: Cabo San Lucas, Baja California Sur, Mexico
Went to sleep: Cabo San Lucas, Baja California Sur, Mexico
A Truly Bad Day in Paradise
This was the worst day we’ve had in 72 days on the road.
Remnants from the storm outside Puerto Vallarta, caused the Cabo San Lucas Bay, where we were at anchor, to heave and hove relentlessly throughout the night. Penelope rocked on her anchor at least as violently as the worst night in the ocean. The pots, pans, cups and dishes clanged from one side of the cupboard to the other. Even the bathroom door was slamming open and closed – something that doesn’t happen except in heavy weather.
Peter did not sleep a minute all night. First he was up closing the hatches so the rain wouldn’t come inside. Then he was up again opening the hatches when it got too muggy down here. Later, he was attending to the dinghy to keep it from jumping off the davits. Long before daylight we decided to make our coffee. We sat on the settee trying to drink our coffee, only taking sips during the brief moments when the boat wasn’t rhythmically rising and falling.
“We are going into the marina!” I announced. I got no argument from the Captain. Unfortunately, the marina wouldn’t make a slip assignment until the outgoing boats had left following 1:00 pm check out. We motored around the bay. Motoring slowly through the chop was better than being victimized by it.
Finally, we were told we could take slip G-21. As Peter was wrestling with the dinghy, trying to return it to its stowed position, Penelope arose with the swell from underneath and lifted the servo paddle of the monitor wind vane into the inflated side of the dinghy pontoon, leaving a gaping hole about 8-inches long. Immediately, the dinghy deflated and hung limp from its hoist like a spent balloon. Like the piercing of the servo paddle into the dinghy, I felt a sharp pang to my heart for all that Peter has done and all he has been through to get us here. I cried for him.
I swear, in over 20 years of marriage, I’ve seldom seen him this mad. I reminded him how far we’ve come and how fortunate we’ve been. Nary a broken fingernail in close to 2,000 miles. I reminded him that in 6 months this will be but a little blip on the radar of our adventure. He wasn’t buyin’ it.
Once hunkered down in our slip, I went to take a shower and Peter went off in search of his repair options. He is one of a kind, mi esposo.