Woke up: Ensenada Grande, Isle Partido, Mexico
Went to sleep: Ensenada Grande, Isle Partido, Mexico
Today marks 100 days Peter and I have been on our epic voyage. Seventy three of these we’ve been anchored out or underway. With no mailing address, no home port, no vehicle registration, I feel like I don’t exist. Perhaps my friends, family, and co-workers remember who I was but for all intents and purposes, I may as well have evaporated from the face of the earth.
In the beginning, I suffered severe home sickness, and sometimes still do, but mostly Peter and I pinch ourselves each day in disbelief this is our life. As soon as I wake each morning, I step out into the cockpit and look around to remind myself of where I am. I drink my coffee and make a plan for the day. If we’re in a marina, the days include laundry, groceries, or site seeing. Site seeing is usually at the bottom of the list after the surprise tasks such as a stuck float on the dinghy outboard or the ever present tasks such as rinsing the salt spray off the rigging and metal components and sweeping the sand out of the cockpit.
Like at home, there are things that need to be addressed on a daily or weekly basis.
Always, Peter keeps the diesel, gas and LP tanks topped off. As in La Paz, we had visa and immigration work to do. Wi Fi in Mexico is not what it is in the U.S., therefore, finding adequate avenues of communication for weather forecasts, blog updates and calling family takes time. Some days I need just a few items at the store, other days provisioning involves the trunk of a taxi.
Completing these tasks takes time in Mexico because it is warm. Often you have to take a break in the shade or order up a frozen gelato.
If we’re at anchor, the days include hiking, snorkeling, writing, reading, napping, and yoga on the beach. Add fishing for Peter and pot lucking with friends and the days become very full.
Tonight Ed and Melinda invited us over for a potluck. John and Sue from Alley Oop joined us. Everyone brought a dish and along with Ed’s fish tacos we had more than we cared to eat.
Jake, age 10, has been working on an oral presentation for school. After dinner we became a rapt audience while he presented on the Vampire Bat.
We left their boat around 10 pm. We motored the dinghy, under a near full moon back to where Penelope waited with her “party lights” on in the cockpit. There was not a trace of wind. The water was still and reflected the moon like a mirror. We counted the anchor lights of seven other vessels quietly at anchor in this bay. We calculated the fact this is the fourth time we’ve watched the moon go through its lunar cycle.
We chuckled at the audacity of going to dinner at our friend’s without shoes and coming home, empty pot luck dishes in the bag, across the water.
We pinched ourselves again and exclaimed, “What a life!” It’s very hard to believe this life is ours. And the biggest curiosity of all is “What lies ahead?”