Day 18: Playa Santispac
Spent the morning spear fishing with Patrick. It was a first for me, and something about cruising around in snorkel and fins with a spear gun in tropical waters feels distinctly James Bond-esque, although all I accomplished was losing a fish off the line that Patrick had caught earlier. Apparently long history with spear fishers around the islands here have made the surviving fish either small, or very leery of anything shaped like a man with a spear gun.
We hit the restaurant on shore, expecting fishermen and a few Canadian Rvers of the snowbird varieyt, I guess. Instead, retirees in their 50's pack in the place, with watercolors painting class critique and snatches of sentences like "Harry's got Rotary on Tuesdays..." in the air. After being 1,000 kilometers deep into Mexico, it's kind of a culture shock. We drink our micheladas, survey the crowds, then drink our beers, escape back to the boat. It's all somehow just too much.
We're invited by a couple aboard a passing dinghy to a dinner party aboard the Sound Discovery from Alaska. We join two couples who'd been cruising in tandem down the west coast since Ensenada, coming into the Sea of Cortez from the south. It's a fine meal of fish tacos and beer biscuits (and beer in cans), hearing stories of free-diving school in Thailand ("make the mermaid want you," they advised for a graceful ascent), a boat bought cheap in La Paz from the estate of a dead nudist Nazi and all his sordid rumored stories (not purchased by any of us in the anchorage).
As the night goes on we get an idea of what it takes in a relationship to live together aboard a boat for six months, a year at a time, in anchorage in Alaska (cold), or sailing through a foreign country with no refrigeration (warm). An easy-going nature, a large library, and the ability to yell it out when necessary and drop grudges fast. I strongly suspect this life would be a good test of any relationship's fiber. A charming evening, whole-heartedly inspiring to buy a boat and set off on this lifestyle for all the adventure and doldrums and long sunny hours of a year or two.
But as Pam, of one of the couples told us of how they bought their boat: "We knew nothing about sailing or boats. And he--the guy we were buying the boat from--actually told us, 'You're stupid. You are incredibly stupid to do this. I feel obligated to tell you that.' We didn't know how to respond to that. So we nodded and smiled, and we bought the boat."
Seems like a good idea to me.
Spent the morning spear fishing with Patrick. It was a first for me, and something about cruising around in snorkel and fins with a spear gun in tropical waters feels distinctly James Bond-esque, although all I accomplished was losing a fish off the line that Patrick had caught earlier. Apparently long history with spear fishers around the islands here have made the surviving fish either small, or very leery of anything shaped like a man with a spear gun.
We hit the restaurant on shore, expecting fishermen and a few Canadian Rvers of the snowbird varieyt, I guess. Instead, retirees in their 50's pack in the place, with watercolors painting class critique and snatches of sentences like "Harry's got Rotary on Tuesdays..." in the air. After being 1,000 kilometers deep into Mexico, it's kind of a culture shock. We drink our micheladas, survey the crowds, then drink our beers, escape back to the boat. It's all somehow just too much.
We're invited by a couple aboard a passing dinghy to a dinner party aboard the Sound Discovery from Alaska. We join two couples who'd been cruising in tandem down the west coast since Ensenada, coming into the Sea of Cortez from the south. It's a fine meal of fish tacos and beer biscuits (and beer in cans), hearing stories of free-diving school in Thailand ("make the mermaid want you," they advised for a graceful ascent), a boat bought cheap in La Paz from the estate of a dead nudist Nazi and all his sordid rumored stories (not purchased by any of us in the anchorage).
As the night goes on we get an idea of what it takes in a relationship to live together aboard a boat for six months, a year at a time, in anchorage in Alaska (cold), or sailing through a foreign country with no refrigeration (warm). An easy-going nature, a large library, and the ability to yell it out when necessary and drop grudges fast. I strongly suspect this life would be a good test of any relationship's fiber. A charming evening, whole-heartedly inspiring to buy a boat and set off on this lifestyle for all the adventure and doldrums and long sunny hours of a year or two.
But as Pam, of one of the couples told us of how they bought their boat: "We knew nothing about sailing or boats. And he--the guy we were buying the boat from--actually told us, 'You're stupid. You are incredibly stupid to do this. I feel obligated to tell you that.' We didn't know how to respond to that. So we nodded and smiled, and we bought the boat."
Seems like a good idea to me.
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