Baja: The Experience - Day 9 - The Return Journey

2/26/17, “The Return Journey”

New York, New York

And so my adventure has come to its end.  There and back again, just like Bilbo did, just like Frodo and Sam did.  I am back in my Hobbit-hole, and I will stay on this island for another two weeks.  I have no desire to leave the Shire again any time soon.  I have put my passport away, and I will not need for another three months.  Feasts and ale and pipes will keep me happy in the meantime.  All that remains is to recount The Return Journey, the “back again” portion of the trip.  Then, the Oscars tonight before I get back to my normal routines.

I left off at the hotel in La Paz, and it was 11:30 AM.  My flight was not for another five hours, so, barring any unforeseen circumstances, there would be no issues.  I had some chips and lit up an LFD for the ride.  We first dropped Roberto off at his friend’s house on the way to the airport, and it was around noon then.  From there, it was two hours to the airport in Cabo.

About an hour from the airport, we started running low on gas.  By the time we found a gas station, the tank was on E, and Elias thought we weren’t going to make it.  I cleaned the car up a bit while they filled the tank.  Before long, we were at the airport, and we said our goodbyes.

I didn’t see a sign for Aeromexico check-in, and I started to get worried, but then I saw a long line of people waiting to check in for the flight.  There were also kiosks, and I used one to check in, which was a complicated process.  In the end, my boarding passes didn’t print.  I went to the agent, but he said I needed to wait on the long line.  I wanted to get lunch and write my entry.  I would not have time if I waited on the line, and I did not want to have go through the lengthy data entry process on the kiosk again.  I tried another kiosk, and, fortunately, it allowed me to just print the boarding pass from that kiosk without reentering my data.  Boarding passes in hand, I went back to the arrivals area, where I knew there to be a Subway.  It was where I had first met Roberto and Scott.

This was very much a there and back again, just like Frodo and Sam, encountering all the same places and the way back that we saw on the way there.  I got a BBQ pork sandwich, which I paired with the rest of my chips and the big bottle of soda water that I had gotten the day before.

After lunch, I went outside, lit up an Aurora, and wrote my entry.  Security was a breeze, and I got a cup of coffee at Starbucks before we boarded.  It was small plane, and we had to walk out to the tarmac.  My suitcase would not fit in the overhead, so I had to take out some of my clothes and put them in a separate plastic bag.  That did the trick.

Before long, we took off, and that’s when things started to get scary.  After ascending about 5000 feet, we stalled.  Then, the plane did about an eighth of a barrel roll (45 degrees).  This was not normal turbulence.  Something was off.  Reader, I have flown hundreds of times, never, in all of my years of flying, have I ever felt more scared on an airplane.  The plane adjusted itself before continuing the ascent.  I read more “Lord of the Rings” during the flight, and then, the same unsteadiness returned as we made our descent.  Was this a pilot-in-training or something?  I did not have confidence in the pilot’s ability to land.  My lack of confidence was not found to be irrational.  It was one of the roughest landings I have ever experienced, but we landed in one piece.

We had to take a bus to the terminal, and I soon found myself in the familiar arrivals area.  I walked past all the familiar sites, before going to my favorite spot.  I lit up my 2015 Christmas Pipe and wrote my reflective entry, reflecting that this was the last time I would this.

After my pipe, I got a burger and fries and Carl’s, Jr.  Wasn’t their CEO supposed to be our next Secretary of Labor?  I had gotten a soda cup, intending to fill it with the flavored sparkling water they had at the fountain, but it was sickly sweet.  They did not have plain seltzer, but they did have coffee, so I filled the cup up with coffee, which paired nicely with the meal.

After dinner, I went back to my spot and lit up a Partagas, which smoked poorly, as I continued a conversation I was having with a friend about the Oscars.  After the cigar, I went to get my traditional Krispy Kreme donut, but their cash register was closed, despite them having two full carts of donuts.  There was no way to procure a donut.  That was disappointing.  In the US, they probably just would have given me a free donut.

I then went through security and to the newsstand where I usually get my last cigars.  Knowing this would be the last time I could get Cubans legally for quite some time, I picked out a nice selection, including 4 Romeo y Julieta Churchills, which were seriously overpriced.  The guy rang me up, but the total seemed high, so I looked at the screen, as I handed him my card, realizing he had charged me twice for 4 Churchills, a total of 8 Churchills.  I started to protest, but he already ran the card and couldn’t cancel it.

I looked at the receipt and realized what had happened.  He had charged me another set of 4 Churchills instead of ringing up the 4 lesser-priced Romeo y Julieta No. 1 cigars.  It took a while to convince him of his mistake, but, eventually, he agreed that he charged me twice for the Churchills, but the supervisor was off-duty, and no refund could be issued.  He said I could have 4 more cigars, but I didn’t want 4 more overpriced Churchills.  However, no mention had been made of 4 lesser-priced cigars, and I had not been charged for those.  In the end, I got the extra 4 Churchills, accepting that the 8 cigars for the price of the 4 Churchills was actually a reasonable price.

From there, I went to my gate, and waited until we boarded.  I was glad to be going home.  I fell asleep not long after we took enough, and the short flight only allowed me two full REM cycles.  It seemed like we landed as soon as we took off.  I breezed through border control and was outside within 30 minutes of the time we touched down.  I got a coffee and two donuts from Dunkin Donuts and waited for the bus back to the city.  There was no traffic Sunday morning, so we made quick time.

I lit up one of my new Romeo y Julieta cigars and walked back down Park Avenue, just as I walked back up Park Avenue to start the trip.  I got back to my Hobbit-hole, and, after changing into some more comfortable clothes, proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, along with closing out this trip.  Next stop: Del Mar for Gene’s memorial service.

Baja: The Experience - Day 8 - "Mexico Complete"

2/25/17, “Mexico Complete”

Los Cabos International Airport, Baja California Sur (SJD)

We choose to go where we travel, and I chose to say “Mexico Complete” before I turned 30 and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that challenge is one that I was willing to accept, and one that I intend to complete.  I think my homage here should be clear to many of my readers, even if my Seventeen Goals is not quite as ambitious as President Kennedy’s goal of going to the moon, but the concept is relevant.  I chose to go to each and every of Mexico’s 34 World Heritage Sites, when I could have used those resources to relax on the beaches of Cancun or Acapulco or even wander the streets of Paris.

I chose to do all of this, and the other things, because I enjoy the challenge of it, and today, by saying “Mexico Complete”, I have become one step closer to fulfilling one of the loftier of the Seventeen of visiting every WHS in North America.  In fact, I was even able to say, “North American Tropics Complete”, and that’s saying a lot.  Two short trips to Canada and one to Iceland/Greenland are now all that stand between me and saying “North America Complete”, the two WHS in Hawaii are actually in Oceania, not North America, so it will be in Newfoundland and Labrador that I say, “North America Complete” in July.

This was a major milestone towards that accomplishment, though, and, by any measure, it is a cause for celebration, precisely because it was hard, possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  I will reflect more tonight on how I arrived at being able to say the famed words this morning, both on my previous trips to Mexico and on the trips to Central America and the Caribbean, but this entry is about the events of today, up until I began The Return Journey.

After I closed last night, I published and had some odd dreams, Eomer and Gandalf featuring heavily in the dreams, my reading still fresh in my mind.  We woke up around 8 AM and tarried perhaps too much, not leaving the hotel until a little after 9 AM and unfed.  I calculated that we would need to leave the hotel at 11 AM for me to be comfortable on an early arrival here at the airport.  I put on my casual clothes for the ceremonial picture, and we drove down to the coast, near where the Plaque was.  Roberto had showed me his picture from a previous visit, and it was the perfect spot for a ceremonial picture.  Since Carnival was going on, La Paz had made a spectacle of it, and there were booths and rides and stands, all unattended on a Saturday morning, as we walked.  There were also lots and lots of portable toilets.

We got to the Plaque, and next to the Plaque was a huge circle of portable toilets, obstructing the view of the coast.  I broke down laughing.  The irony of it.  After spending four years visiting the other 33 WHS, here I was at the last one, and the perfect vista was blocked by portable toilets.  Once they realized that I was more amused than disappointed, Roberto and Elias joined in the laughter.  We agreed we’d take one photo with the Plaque, with the portable toilets in the background, and we’d take our ceremonial picture behind it on the beach, with the perfect vista.  I lit up an Hoyo de Monterrey and gave Roberto a Graycliff.  We took our picture with the Plaque and then stepped down onto the beach.

Roberto looked at me expectantly as I looked around the beach and the coast.  He knew the words that were coming, along with the significance of them.  I would delay no further.  It was time to claim it.  “Mexico Complete,” I announced.  We shook hands and congratulated and thanked each other.  It was very much a team effort.  We took our ceremonial picture, and it was perfect.  I knew that the wind of the beach would spend the thin cigar quickly, so we stayed on the beach until the cigar was nearly done.  That was it.

We went in search of souvenirs, and I found what I wanted.  Meanwhile, Roberto and Elias sat down for breakfast.  I joined them for coffee, but I had no appetite.  I would not have breakfast or second breakfast or elevenses.  In fact, other than some chips, I would not eat until I sat down for lunch at 2 PM.  The service was brutally slow, and it set us back by half an hour, but I had built in over an hour of Dutch time, so we were good.  After breakfast, I relit my cigar, and we headed to the car.

Before long, we were at the hotel, and I finished packing and changed into my travelling suit.  We went back to the car, so began The Return Journey, which, as is my tradition, I will recount in its entirety once I get back to New York.  There would be Many Partings, indeed, but that will be recounted in time, as well.  There and Back Again, that was what needed to be done.  We had finished the there, and now it was time to go back again.  On that note, I will close.

Benito Juarez International Airport, Federal District, Mexico (MEX)

Once again, my 2015 Christmas Pipe finds itself being smoked at an airport in a foreign country’s capital airport, the only places it has been smoked outside of the state of New York, as a trip comes to an end.  First it was LIM (Peru), then it was DOH (Qatar), and now it is MEX (Mexico), but those smokings pale in comparison to this one.  When I do the reckoning, I expect that this trip will pose a strong challenge to even the trip that ended at DOH, but, more importantly, this spot hold a special significance, the spot where I have previously reflected on six trips to Mexico, and the spot where I am now doing so for the seventh and, what may be the final, time.  Of all my trips to Mexico, this was clearly the most epic, and it is good that it would end on this note, after I have said, “Mexico Complete.”  Sitting in this spot reminds me of each of my other trips to Mexico, all of seven of them, which all ended, more or less, the same way.

The first one, though was more less than more.  It was in this spot that I sat, unknowingly, as the check-in cutoff time for my flight home passed, and I was forced to spend the night (and part of the next day) at the airport, missing a day of work with no reward.  It was a lesson hard-learned, but I never repeated that mistake again, even as I reflected here five more times before this trip.  I remember the second time, when Enrique dropped me off here, after I contracted him privately for my second trip like this.  I remember the third time, when I connected on the way back from Guadalajara and learned another lesson: exit the airport immediately after getting off your connecting flight, rather than trying to exit back through security.  That was the third trip I took with Enrique, where we met in Guadalajara, and it is the trip where Roberto and I met on Instagram.

All future trips would be with Roberto, and I would never see Enrique again.  I remember my first trip with Roberto, my fourth one of these trips, to the Yucatan, to see Chichen-Itza and other sites, and I came here after saying connecting from Villahermosa.  I remember my fifth trip, where Roberto and I toured central Mexico and said goodbye at the airport, before I came to this spot.  I remember my sixth trip, where Roberto and I toured the borderlands, and I came here after connecting from Hermosillo.  And, now, here I am, for the seventh time, reflecting on a trip to Mexico.  None of these trips were easy, and it would have been nigh on impossible for me to have to have done them without the help of Enrique and Roberto and Elias and the people working behind the scenes, such as my mother and Scott.  As I said earlier, I didn’t choose to do it because it was easy, but because it was hard.

That said, it was very hard, and it was even harder to say “North American Tropics Complete.”  That required many, many trips.  It required four trips to Central America, all of which were hard.  The solo trips to Panama and Costa Rica, which I did without the help of any guide, proved a particular challenge, but the CA-4 trip I undertook with Fernando to see eight WHS in 4 countries in six Days was very hard, and I couldn’t have done it without him.  Belize was challenging, but it proved easy in comparison to the others I have referenced.

Then, there were the trips in the Caribbean, to islands Americans rarely visit by plane or venture inland during their visits by sea.  The first one was to Dominica and Saint Lucia, the first such trip that I planned, and my inexperience in such trip planning made it difficult, but I pulled it off.  Next came the short trip to Antigua and Barbuda and Saint Kitts and Nevis (two countries).  Figuring out the flights was a bit of challenge, but executing it was not that bad, and it was actually one of my more enjoyable trips to the Caribbean.  Then came my first trip to Jamaica, of which I will not write.  After that was perhaps the oddest of my trips, to the three countries of the Windward Islands, only staying in their capitals.  The countries were, in order, Grenada, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, and Barbados.  The only WHS in that region was Bridgetown, the capital of Barbados.  That was also one of my more enjoyable trips to the Caribbean.

Then came Cuba, by far the most difficult of all, both in planning and executing, for obvious reasons, but I was able to plan a religious studies trip with an old friend, and we pulled it off with the help of a guide who was not happy with the full extent of the ambitious nature of our trip.  He did not realize how crazy we were, but we did it and we saw all nine WHS in Cuba in five Days.  Next was my return to Jamaica to properly visit their newest WHS, and easy task in the two Days I allowed for the trip, despite the difficult roads I drove.  My last trip to the Caribbean was the one to Hispaniola a month ago, which was extremely challenging, both in planning and execution, but I pulled it off.

I have not mentioned the two trips I took to the islands in the North American Tropics that are not in the Caribbean: Bermuda and The Bahamas.  Bermuda was easy enough, and it was a fun birthday trip with my parents, while Barbados was a 24-hour jaunt that was easy enough to plan and execute.  Reader, every trip that I recalled, every WHS that I visited, every national legislature that I saw, all of that was necessary for me to be able to say “North American Tropics Complete” today.  It is a region that I love dearly, and, other than my trip to the American portion of the region next month (The Virgin Islands and Puerto Rico), it may be quite some time before I return to this region.

As for this trip, where does it rank?  The delay at sea and failure to land at Isla Socorro, likely cost it a spot in the top ten, but we shall see.  Currently, the tenth spot belongs to Israel, after The Last Great Summer Road Trip Adventure was dislodged when I got back from Australia.  I think, that if we had landed at Isla Socorro, seen the Plaque there, and had gotten back Wednesday morning, instead of late Wednesday night, it could make a play for challenging Israel and TLGSRTA, but, as it is, it fails against Israel, both in natural beauty and the joy of the experience itself, and it also fails against TLGSRTA for the reasons I mentioned.  It would probably have beaten TLGSRTA if Phase 2 hadn’t been so rushed, but it wasn’t so it didn’t.

That said, it was a great trip, and we had a great time, the three of us, in Phase 2, even if it was rushed, but the time on the boat seemed a blur, and I would have much rather been able to have traded one day on the boat for an extra day in Phase 2, but, then, if that happened, we never would have met Elias, so it’s funny how those things worked out.  Saying “Mexico Complete” (and “North American Tropics Complete”) was a momentous occasion, but it paled in comparison to even erroneously saying “Mainland US Complete.”

Phase 2 also paled in comparison to the drive across the Canadian Prairie, which I so loved.  Again, that it not to diminish this trip in any way, but it fails to crack into the Top Ten, if only barely.  I have enjoyed my trips to Mexico (and the North American Tropics), but I am glad to have said, “Mexico Complete” (and “North American Tropics Complete”), even if it means I will not return for quite some time.  On that note, I will close so that I can publish and get some dinner.  I will treat The Return Journey in its entirety from New York tomorrow morning.

Baja: The Experience - Day 7 - The Whales

2/24/17, “The Whales”

La Paz, Baja California Sur, Mexico

Long before we had met, long before Instagram was even invented, growing up as children in different countries, Roberto and I had the same dream: to see every World Heritage Site in our country.  Until recently, though, it was only a dream, for both of us.  Then, five years ago, on a summer night at Mammoth Caves National Park in Kentucky, after perhaps a little too much bourbon, I decided that I would make that dream a reality.  “I’m going to visit every World Heritage Site and state in the country before I turn 30,” I announced.  My family seemed skeptical.

It was a lofty ambition, but that was just the beginning.  Those were but the first two Goals I set for myself, of the Seventeen.  That was when I sat out to see the world.  Of those first two, only Hawaii remains, both the state itself and the two WHS there, which I will visit immediately before I turn 30, by design.  The other fifteen, they are on track.  As for Roberto, and his childhood dream of visiting every WHS in Mexico, I am pleased to report that, by visiting the Whale Sanctuary of El Vizcaino this morning that allowed him to finish that task.

I am right behind him in claiming “Mexico Complete”, but I still need to claim the Protected Areas of the Gulf of California.  All that requires is setting foot on the beach here at La Paz.  It was our unique friendship that allowed us to succeed in this ambitious task.  When me met on Instagram a year and a half ago, we had each only been to about half of the WHS in Mexico.  Together, we joined our skills and resources, and we made it happen.  We couldn't have done it without each other.  When we step on the beach together tomorrow, it will be my turn for triumph, as today was his, but the credit belongs to us both.

While La Paz may not be as impressive of a dateline as Buenos Aires or Lima or Doha or Giza, I am sure that my reader will now agree that this smoking of my 2014 Christmas Pipe marks a moment as significant as anything that happened at those locations, and will agree more so once I have recounted the events since I last wrote.

After I closed last night, I had great difficulty in publishing my entry due to slow Wi-Fi at the hotel.  Eventually, I used Roberto’s cell signal as a hotspot and was able to finish publishing.  We then went out to dinner.  We went to the top-rated restaurant on TripAdvisor, a seafood place called Mario’s Restaurant.  The service was terrible but the food amazing.  I got a mixed seafood platter with two kinds of fish, shrimp, and lobster, while Roberto and Elias each got a mixed land and sea grill.  I had some rum with my dinner, while they drank beer.  It was coconut cream pie for dessert.  We were in a mood to celebrate, and it was a feast worthy of the occasion.  If my reader will recall, we had spent all day yesterday driving from Cabo to the rock paintings, and we were, indeed, very fortunate to have been able to see them after everything that had transpired at sea.

After dinner, we stopped to pick up some rum for the room, so that our celebrations could continue.  When we got back to the room, I proffered a three-pack of Hoyo de Monterrey cigars that I had gotten at the airport.  (As a point of correction, the two previous references to Hoyo de Monterrey cigars this trip were actually H. Upmann cigar, and I’m not sure how I made that mistake.)  Elias was thrilled to be smoking a Cuban, and I was glad that my friends were enjoying the cigars as much as I was.  We drank and smoked and were merry.  In a bit of irony, I finished my cigars but not the rum, while Roberto and Elias finished their rum but not their cigars.  Instead, they saved the cigars for the morning.  I did not finish the rum in the morning.

After we woke up, we went to the lobby for the breakfast buffet, which was sparse and lukewarm, but it did the trick.  I had chicharrones, nachos with cheese, huevos rancheros, and two pancakes, along with coffee.  It was very disappointing.  The coffee was the best part.  We then headed out the lagoon, called Laguna Ojo de Liebre.  I had no idea what would await us there, but this was our only activity for the day, so we would make it work.

The entrance to the lagoon was just outside of town, but it was a long gravel road to the lagoon itself, longer than the dirt road to the caves but not as steep, and I lit up my Caoba for the drive.  Soon enough, we are Laguna Ojo de Liebre, and, even before we pulled into the parking lot, I could see the splashes of whales coming to the surface off in the distance.  I knew at that moment that a ceremonial picture from the lagoon was all we needed to claim it as a WHS, especially since the inscription photo was taken from the shore, but we would do one better.  We found out we could take rent seats on a skiff for 90-minute whale-watching tours of the lagoon to better see the whales.

After some back and forth, I agreed to go along, knowing that I would be bored after about the first 10 minutes of whale-watching.  It would be a bit of wait before we could get on a skiff, so we headed out to the pier so that Roberto and I could finish our cigars.  When we stepped onto the pier, I shook Roberto’s hand and congratulated him on having now visited every WHS in Mexico.  On the pier, we met two people who said that they had biked here from Portland and Vancouver Island and were stopping here on their way to Cabo.  I thought that that was mildly interesting, until I realized that they were actually bicycling, not riding motorcycles.  At that point, I was fascinated.  I couldn’t believe it.  We chatted with them until the skiff came.

We got on the skiff, along with a large family who took up the other rows.  As predicted, it was impressive for about the first 10 minutes, and then I was ready to go back to shore.  We saw the whales far closer than I imagined, and there were far more whales than I expected to see.  We even got to pet the whales as they came right up to the skiff.  That was a new experience to be sure.  About halfway through, I was starving, the meager breakfast having worn off, and I really wanted to go back to shore, but I would have to wait out the allotted time, which came soon enough.

I got some chips at the office, and then we went back to the car to get more cigars and for Elias to retrieve his cigar from last night.  Our lighters were running out at this point, and it was windy, so it was no easy task.  Fortunately, my torch had one last burst in it, and I lit up a Vegas Robaina Canada Exclusivo and lit up Elias’s in turn with my cigar.  We then went to take our ceremonial picture at a spot that looked as similar to the inscription photo as I could find.  For me, it was 33 down, 1 to go.  It would be a long drive to La Paz, but that was all that remained.  There and back again, just like Bilbo did, just like Frodo and Sam did, that’s what we needed to do.  We went back down the gravel path towards Guerrero Negro, and we marveled at the salt flats, which we had not noticed on the drive in to the lagoon.

Before long, we were back in town, and we got souvenirs and tacos, along with snacks for the road.  I also treated us all to a new disposable lighter each, and we filled up with gas.  It would be a long drive back to La Paz, and we wanted to make sure were ready for it.  I could recount that journey in great detail, but my pipe is done, and the hour is late (4 AM), so I will be brief.  I lit up a Graycliff to get started, and I read a lot more of “Lord of the Rings” throughout the drive.  When we got to the military checkpoint, we finally figured out how to quickly get through the checkpoint.  We just told the truth.  Elias was a guide, Roberto was a professor, and I was an American tourist.  That was about as unsuspicious as a lot could pass through Baja, and they waved us right through.

We stopped in San Ignacio so that I could get souvenirs from the rock paintings.  I asked how much the keyring was in pesos, using Spanish, but apparently my Spanish was good enough that the shop clerk started a conversation with me in Spanish.  I had trouble keeping up, but she never switched back to English.  I was surprised my Spanish was still that good.  I then got some date ice cream, since dates seemed to be a big thing there, and we got some beers for the car.  Then it was back on the road.

I lit up my Ser Jacopo to go with my beer, hobbit-style, and got back to my reading.  The road goes ever on, I noted, and so it did.  After the pipe, it was a Camacho, then a Nub.  At this point, it was not much past 7 PM, but it was pitch black outside, and the stars were clearly visible.  At the next checkpoint, we repeated our speech from the previous checkpoint, and, actually, the soldiers had remembered us from the way up yesterday, so they sped us right through.  We stopped in Loreto for dinner at 8 PM.  Elias had asked what I wanted, and I said Mexican food, specifying, “enchiladas y quesadillas.”

I looked up the top-rated restaurant on TripAdvisor, and that’s where we went, a restaurant called Mi Loreto.  They had enchiladas and quesadillas, so that’s what I got, along with nachos for us to share as an appetizer.  Lemon-flavored sparkling water was my only drink.  The meal was delicious, and we were all well-fed before we got back on the road.  After dinner, it was still almost five hours to La Paz, and I knew we would not arrive at the hotel before 2 AM, which meant even a 4 AM bedtime seemed unlikely.  I lit up a Fuente, and, after the cigar, had some dessert I had picked up at a convenience store earlier.  I then rested unevenly until we reached La Paz.

We were cheered by the city lights that we saw at 2 AM.  We made it to the hotel, and the check-in process was lighting fast.  We went to our room and settled in.  It was now pressing on 3 AM.  I then went outside to the balcony, in view of the coast, where I sat down, lit up my 2014 Christmas Pipe, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, so that I can publish and get some sleep.

Baja: The Experience - Day 6 - The Paintings

2/23/17, “The Paintings”

Guerrero Negro, Baja California Sur, Mexico

I have done a lot of odd things and had a lot of bizarre experiences in my travels, but the adventure of the past 17 hours and, for that matter, the past six Days, far outweighs them all.  Those were my thoughts around 2 AM, when I looked up at the stars out the window as we made our way overnight from the southernmost tip of Baja California Sur to its northern border.  When I fell asleep in the back seat of the car around 4 AM, the front seats occupied by the two Mexicans, and old friend and a new friend, who would serve as my companions for Phase 2 of the trip, I realized that this gringo was, in all likelihood, doing what no gringo had done before.

After spending four days at sea, we were undertaking this marathon drive through Mexico’s most rugged and remote region for one singular purpose: to be able to say that we had been to every World Heritage Site in Mexico.  Once we got back to port, only three remained: the rock paintings, the whale sanctuary, and the protected areas of the Gulf of California. 

It would be no easy task to do all three of those and get back to the airport at Cabo in the three Days that remained, but it was doable, and that was why we were taking these extreme measures.  I knew that if we could just see the rock paintings today, we would be back on our original schedule by the time we got to Guerrero Negro tonight.  If not, I would have to enact to Plan F.  That was why we hit the ground running, so to speak, once we got to port.  I will now recount those adventures.

After I closed last night, Scott gave me all the details.  The car rental places did not stay opened past midnight, so that was not an option, but he went above and beyond the call of duty to make Phase 2 of this trip work for us.  He had someone in La Paz pick up a car for us earlier in the day and drive it down to Los Cabos.  We would have use of the car until Saturday, when we would need to return it to La Paz, and he would then make arrangements to get me to the airport in Cabo.  The guy who brought the car to Los Cabos would drive us as far as La Paz, where we would drop him off and make our own way further north overnight.  Further, we could also pick up a driver in La Paz, if we didn’t want to the do the drive ourselves.  I didn’t think it was necessary, and Roberto did not think he could manage the overnight shift, even if we shared driving duties.  I was fine, since I had been sleeping most of my time at sea.

There was a bit of complication, as a Christina Aguilera concert was letting out at the same time we arrived in port, so our driver had trouble getting into the marina.  I was nervous the longer we waited, and I knew that I would be unable to relax until we were in the car and on our way.  Eventually, he showed up, and Scott asked us if we knew how to drive stick.  Roberto did, but I did not, so we took him up on the offer to pick up the driver in La Paz, at 2:30 AM, on our way.  As I said, this was all very bizarre, but Scott was covering all the car expenses, we just had to provide the meals.  That was more than fair.

We got in the car, and I got to work on publishing my entry, data and connection issues making the process slower than usual.  Meanwhile, I lit up my Davidoff Yamasa Toro and put on Red, to denote the start of the journey.  We picked up the driver, Elias, in La Paz, right on schedule, and I was now in the car with three Mexicans, the lone gringo, far away from his Hobbit-hole.  I had certainly left the Shire.  There and back again, though, that was all that mattered, so long as we hit our sites on the way.

Reader, adventures with dwarves and orcs seem more believable than the tale I am about to recount.   We dropped off the first driver, and I published my entry a little after 3 AM.  We then got some snacks and drinks, and I had changed into my pajamas.  Roberto and Elias were chatting a mile a minute, and loudly.  I could not sleep above the chatter, so I politely asked him Roberto if he wanted to get some rest.  The meaning was clear.

I slept uncomfortably in the back seat of the car, but, four hours later, shortly after daybreak, I woke up to a scenic viewpoint, where we stopped.  I then changed into my clothes for the next day and announced, “Day 6.”  I lit up an Oliva, and we were on the road, stopping again for breakfast an hour or so later.

I opted for a shrimp omelet, which took far too long to cook, while Roberto and Elias had ceviche.  After breakfast, I lit up a Caoba, and we were on our way again.  We arrived at San Ignacio at midday, and when I saw that round-trip tours to Cueva del Raton (the most accessible paintings) took five hours, I started to wonder if we had been too late, and it had all been for naught.  However, that was for organized tours, and we could go our own if we got proper permission at the INAH office.

We took care of the paperwork there, properly this time, and they said we could go right now if we wanted.  All the arrangements had been made.  I lit up a Graycliff, and we were on our way.  I read a lot more of “Lord the Rings” during this drive, it should be noted.  It would be 44 km on the highway, followed by 30 km on the side-road, the last few klicks of which were unpaved.  We had a small sedan.  “I’ve driven on worse for less,” I noted as we made our way up the dirt road.  Elias seemed even more excited about this than we were.  I was afraid we weren’t going to make it, but Elias proved himself an exceptionally competent driver.

The vistas were breathtaking during this drive, but only one thing mattered to me: the rock paintings.  Eventually we reached the hotel office, where we had to check in and meet our guide.  He looked like someone off the screen of a Sergio Leone movie.  He first took us to the Plaque, which involved walking up a steep path to the town, and, again, I felt like a Hobbit.

I lit up an Hoyo de Monterrey for the walk, and we soon found the Plaque in the center of town, so took our ceremonial pictures there before returning to the car.  From there, we drove back to the cave entrance, and the guide had to undo the locks to the gate at the barbed wire fence.  I said that it felt like we were passing through the Gates of Moria, though the joke was lost.

We were there.  I didn’t even have to put out my cigar.  At last, we had done it.  I felt cheered, and that made the paintings seem even more impressive.  We took some ceremonial pictures and more pictures of the paintings.  They were seriously impressive.  What was more impressive, though, was that I had now been to every cultural WHS in Mexico.  Only two natural sites remained.  The significance of the moment was not lost on me, but Elias was even more wowed by it than we were.  We said goodbyes to the guide, and, though celebrations were in order, they would have to wait until we got back on the paved road.

That seemed to take far quicker than the way up, and I remarked that it was because it was now a known quantity.  Once we saw the pavement ahead, we let ourselves relax, at long last, after four days at sea and over 12 hours in the car.  It was now just an hour or so to the hotel, and we made good time, as I lit up an LFD for the ride.

We were able to get a room with three beds, so we settled in before saying we would head out to dinner in an hour.  I then went outside, where I lit up my 2013 Christmas Pipe and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and we can do what we do best: eat, drink, smoke, and sleep.

While the dateline of Guerrero Negro is not as impressive as such datelines as the Drake Passage and Seoul and Beverly Hills or Machu Picchu and Lubmini or London and Quebec, with only the journey to the sanctuary of Machu Picchu coming close, this adventure easily trumps them all.  Those are, of course, the other places where I have previously smoked my 2013 Christmas Pipe.

Baja: The Experience - Days 2-5 - Four Days At Sea

2/19/17, “Rough Seas”

At sea, M/V Storm, Pacific Ocean, En route to Isla Socorro

As far as I can see in every direction, there is nothing but blue: blue water and blue skies.  This view will not change until we reach Isla Socorro tomorrow.  That is the entire purpose of this voyage, to visit Isla Socorro and get one step closer to saying, “Mexico Complete.”  One of the golden rules of this Travelogue is that I write an entry every day during my travels.  There is no skipping of datelines.  If there is a 2/18/17 dateline, then the next dateline must be 2/19/17.  However, it is not a rule that each day’s entry must be published on its own, nor is it a rule that the entry be written at the end of the day and include all of the day’s events.

That is how it is done for the vast majority of my entries, but, when I’ve had no or restricted internet access, such as along the Dalton or in Cuba or China, I have published multiple days as one post when internet was restored.  Further, on New Year’s Eve, I always close the entry and publish before beginning the festivities, and, when I was aboard the Corinthian, my rule was to publish before dinner, even though the bulk of the interesting activities of the day actually took place after dinner.

Since I will be at sea for three full days, and I will need to publish Days 2-4 as one post once we get back to port, I am at leisure to simply write at my convenience and desire.  It is now around 5 PM local time, and this will be the only entry I write today.  Rough seas have made for a vastly different experience at sea than I expected, and I hope to be back to top form by the time we land at Isla Socorro tomorrow.  For now, though, I shall record what has occurred since I closed last night in port.

After I closed, we sat down to dinner, which was, surprisingly, spaghetti with tomato and meat sauce, along with, of course, more Pacifico.  It was quite good.  After dinner, we went outside to smoke and drink and chat.  I had a Por Larranga and Roberto an Oliva.  Scott refrained.

Roberto also had brought some scotch for us.  We talked about the boat and Scott’s various uses and tours.  It was a good conversation.  After the cigar, he asked one of the crew to make popcorn for us, and I went to bed after the popcorn.  It was 9 PM local time, but I was tired, and there was nothing else to do.

I woke up around 7 AM, and all the preparations were underway.  I then learned that Scott would actually not be joining us for the voyage, but we were in good hands with the crew.  Breakfast was eggs with bacon and other fillings, beans, and tortillas, which I turned into a breakfast burrito.  After breakfast, I lit up a Caoba, and we went outside.

Halfway through the cigar, it was anchors aweigh, and we set sail.  Roberto and I went to the upper deck.  He got sick first.  After the Caoba, I lit up a Graycliff.  Then I started to feel sick.  I just wanted to go to bed after the cigar, so I did, but, before long, I found myself on the back deck, quite nauseated.  I will not go into the graphic detail, but I leave it to my reader’s imagination.  The waves were very rough, and the boat was very small.  I went back to bed and got up to go to the bathroom.

That’s when things went from bad to worse.  After I was done in the bathroom, I stood up, and fell, into the toilet, breaking it.  The toilet started leaking from the base, and it was no longer usable.  I do not think they will be able to fix it during our voyage.  That meant that there was only one bathroom on the main deck.  Not a good situation.  I lied back down and then, before long, was back on the deck.  It was the bile this time.  Not fun.  I then went back to my cabin, lied down again, only leaving to go to the bathroom.

Soon enough, it was 5 PM, about 7 hours after I first started feeling nauseated.  Needless to say, it has not been a fun 7 hours.  I then went out to the back deck (I really should call it the aft deck), sat down in my usual spot, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can get back to my cabin once more and see if I can manage to have dinner later.

2/20/17, “Land Ho”

At sea, M/V Storm, Pacific Ocean, En route to Isla Socorro

It has been almost 20 hours since I last wrote, and, other than the setting and rising of the sun, the view has remained unchanged during that time.  Shortly after I finish this entry, we will have our first sighting of land as we enter the protected area of Archipielago de Revillagigedo.  We will have Officially entered the World Heritage Site at that point, and we will make landfall at Isla Socorro not long after that, where we expect to find the WHS Plaque.  That is the sole purpose of this voyage, as I have mentioned.  It certainly was not about the joy of being at sea.

It seems the Mexican cure for sea sickness is quite different from the American cure.  Back home, I would expect to be told to take it easy, to eat something light, have a soft drink of some sort, and get back in bed.  No such advice was to be found aboard the Storm.  No, instead, it was “Eat, drink, smoke, sing.”  In other words, the Mexican cure was to have so good of a time that your body forgets it’s sick.  Figuring I had nothing to lose, I went along with it.

After I closed, I went to bed and woke up around 9 PM, the ship seemingly dark and asleep.  I took a handful of cereal and saw one of the crew members on a sleeping bag on the floor.  Someone else came by and asked if I needed anything, so I said that I could go for a little bit of dinner.  The chef came down and reheated what was on the stove.  It was interesting combination to say the least: Chinese-style chicken, America-style mashed potatoes, and Mexican-style tortillas.  I didn’t care.  I was glad to have an appetite.

Meanwhile, one of the crew members, insisted on talking to me incessantly.  I just wanted peace and quiet.  He told me what I needed to do to feel better.  I thought to myself that, if he would just stop talking, and I sat out on the aft deck, I would feel better in no time.  He said I needed a shot of a tequila and a doobie and invited me up to the bridge to do so.  I passed on the tequila and doobie, but I did join him on the bridge.  He handed me the aux cord, so I could play whatever I want from my phone.

Of all my music, there is one album above all that is perfect for singing at the top of my lungs and forgetting about everything else.  It has done the trick for 15 years, and I had no doubt in its ability to do so last night.  That album, of course, is “Let Go” by Avril Lavigne.  It was a Pacifico to drink and a Partagas to smoke.  By the time I got to “I’m With You,” and started belting out at the top of my lungs, “It’s a damn cold night,” all was well.  The crewmember, who was not just drunk, but rather utterly and royally toasted, started singing along, much to my surprise.

He said that I could drive the boat if I wanted.  It was at this point that I started to question whether or not his advice was actually good advice or if he just wanted someone to drink with him on the bridge.  The captain had to take a short break, so the other crewmember took the wheel, and, again to my surprise, he was perfectly functional behind the wheel.  I guess driving a boat on the empty high seas does not require that much sobriety.  He let me take the wheel, and told me how to stay on course.  That was fun.  After my cigar, I said goodnight and headed to bed.

I slept until breakfast time, which were breakfast burritos again, this time with beef, potatoes, and vegetables.  Coffee, of course, accompanied it.  After breakfast, Roberto and I went up for a smoke, and my friend from last night, now sober, joined us.  I had a Caoba, of course, and Roberto had a Graycliff.  After the cigars, we relaxed on the aft deck for a bit before taking naps until lunch.

It was plain quesadillas for lunch, along with Pacifico, which were perfect together.  I was back to top fighting form.  After lunch, I went to the aft deck, where I sat down, lit up a Graycliff, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, as the first island is now in sight, and it is time to say, “Land ho!”

At anchor, M/V Storm, Pacific Ocean (Isla Socorro)

Thwarted again!  Well, we seem to have arrived at the island about an hour too late to make landfall tonight, at we will not be able to go ashore until midmorning tomorrow.  That means, we will not make it back to Cabo (and to internet access) until Wednesday evening, 24 hours behind schedule, and we will likely have to drive to our next stop through the night, sleeping in shifts on the road, rather than at a hotel in Santa Rosalia.  People who expected my communication Tuesday evening (or Wednesday morning) will start to worry that I was lost at sea, but we are here, and we have a task to accomplish, even if that means spending another day at sea and driving through the night.

I’ve done worse for less, as I’m fond of saying.  Cf. Budapest.  That was much worse for much less.  Cf. the Dalton.  Cf. Mars Hill.  That was all worse for less.  “Mexico Complete” is in the balance, and nothing will stand in our way.  If we want to get technical, though, we can, at this point, claim Archipielago de Revillagigedo as a World Heritage Site at this point, our ceremonial picture from the bow, as we sailed past Isla San Benedicto allowed us to claim it, but we want more.

We want the Plaque.  We want to set foot on Isla Socorro.  We want that iconic picture.  That is why we will stay anchored here overnight.  At this point, only the Mexican Marines can stop us from setting foot ashore, and, that is what we are awaiting.  At 8 AM tomorrow morning, they will let us know.  Until then, we will spend tonight at anchor.

After I closed at sea, the island was in view.  As we passed the island, I gave Roberto an Oliva and lit up a Vegas Robaina.  I knew that, worse come to worse, this would be our ceremonial picture at the WHS.  We headed to the bow with much difficulty, and we took our ceremonial picture, again with much difficulty.  We then finished our cigars  We were learning at this point that we would arrive at Isla Socorro just as the sun set, and it was unlikely that we’d be able to make it ashore before dark.  We would miss it by less than an hour.  After all that, an hour.

After the cigar, we went on a pantry raid and procured some chips and crackers, along with some sparkling water.  After our snack, we were now about halfway between San Benedicto and Socorro, and we went to the upper deck.

I lit up my Ser Jacopo, one of the high-end pipes I had recently found after having thought lost in Rio.  I read my schoolwork and, after finishing that, started reading the Prologue of the “Lord of the Rings”, which I had downloaded before taking off from Benito Juarez.  I then went down for a nap.  I woke up at sunset, just as we reached Isla Socorro, but the place we needed to land was on the opposite side of the island, the waves were rough.

We had fish tacos for dinner, which were incredible, along with a Pacifico.  I then lit up a Nub and went to the upper deck.  All the sudden, we turned around.  In order to land at the island, we needed the marines to clear our boat, and they did not want to do so this late at night, so, instead, we had to make anchor.  I then got my laptop and sat down on the deck, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close.

2/21/17, “The Island”

At sea, M/V Storm, Pacific Ocean, En route to Los Cabos

The good news is that we can check off “Archipielago de Revillagigedo” from our World Heritage Site list, but that was true 20 hours ago when we took our ceremonial picture by Isla San Benedicto.  The bad news is that we were not able to land at Isla Socorro and take our ceremonial picture with the Plaque.  The worse news is, this cost us 24 hours.  This establishing shot of Isla Socorro was not worth spending an extra 24 hours at sea.  If we knew that we would not be able to land at Isla Socorro, I would have asked the captain to set anchor by Isla San Benedicto, and we would have taken some more ceremonial pictures there and claimed Archipielago de Revillagigedo as a WHS then and there.

As it is, we continued to Isla Socorro and anchored there overnight in hope of setting foot ashore and taking our ceremonial picture with the Plaque.  It was not to be.  Our paperwork was not in order, and we were denied permission to land at the island.  24 hours wasted.  When I planned this trip, a ceremonial picture from the boat at Isla San Benedicto was all that I desired, and I would have gladly settled for that, but Roberto found out that the Plaque was at Isla Socorro, and Scott said we could go ashore there.  The former was true, the latter was not.

As a result, we wasted 24 hours and will need to drive through the night, instead of having a relaxing day on the beach at Cabo and a daytime drive up the coast.  I will not say the trip is ruined, but it is off to a very rough start.  As long as we can say, “Mexico Complete,” and I get home in time to watch my last movie before the Oscars, all will be well.  That is all that matters at this point: “Mexico Complete”, “Oscar Nominees Complete”, and being home for the Oscars.

Under other circumstances, I could have stayed out an extra day and missed an extra day of work, but since I want to be home for the Oscars, that is not an option.  If the rest of the trip goes according to plan, that will be doable, and I will still be able to consider this trip a success.  As for now, this view of Isla Socorro is quite a view, and we are still within the boundaries of the WHS.  As soon as we get back to port, I will reconnect with the outside world and publish this entry.

Once that is done, we will pick up our rental car and immediately make all due haste to get to our next site.  Assuming we can pick up the car tomorrow night, it will be no issue to make it San Ignatio by daybreak Thursday morning, which is where we will take donkeys to see our next WHS.  If we get back to port early enough, we might even get to Santa Rosalia early enough to sleep at a hotel instead of just sleeping in shifts in the car.  Either way, we will be well-rested when we get to port, since we seem to be spending the majority of our time on the boat asleep.

After I closed last night, we had some dessert, and I wondered what we should do with the rest of the night, as it was not yet 8 PM.  I remarked that there was nothing to do on this boat other than drink and smoke.  I said that diminutively, but that I almost immediately remarked that I would usually consider a night spent drinking and smoking a good night.  The only thing that was missing was TV and Internet.  I could do without those for a while.

We broke out the scotch, and I lit up an Ardor, while Roberto finished his cigar from earlier.  We drank and smoked.  After we were done, it was still only 9 PM, but I went to bed.  At some point Roberto had asked me if we had the permission from the government to go ashore.  I assured him that Scott had told me he filled out all the paperwork.  I wasn’t worried, since I trusted Scott to have made all the necessary arrangements, but something seemed off.  I went to sleep.

When I woke up in the morning, no one knew anything about the paperwork, and now I was starting to worry.  The boat moved towards the military base and set anchor there, so we would be ready for them right at 8 AM, while the chef made breakfast.  It was breakfast burritos filled with chorizo and eggs, along with coffee.  I didn’t have much of an appetite.  I have a lot of experience doing a lot of odd things in my travels, and my gut is good at telling me when something is off.  Something was off.  I could only eat one of the two burritos, and the chef ate the other one.

I lit up a Caoba, and we made anchor by the base.  At 8 AM, we saw some movement at the base, a truck heading to the dock, and the truck offloaded some marines, who got on a small skiff.  All hands were on deck to await their arrival.  There were six marines on the skiff, at least three of them armed.  The proper introductions were made.  Two marines stayed on the skiff, one armed marine stayed on the deck with us, and three went to the bridge with the captain.

For almost an hour this went on, and my worry soon turned to despair, as we waited and waited.  Six marines and five crewmembers, and this went on for an hour, just so that the two of us could take a picture with the Plaque.  At one point, there was a glimmer of hope, as I heard on the radio a few words that I recognized, about us wanting to take a picture with the WHS Plaque, but Roberto dashed my hopes when he said that they were only saying we did not have permission.

The proper paperwork was nowhere to be found, and the only way we could get ashore at this point was for some at the Ministry of the Interior to authorize it.  That did not seem likely.  Around 9 AM, the captain came down with the other marines, and we all shook hands.  Wait, was this a good sign?  The marines got back in their skiff and left.  Did we get the permission?  No, it was denied.  The captain called Scott, and he did not have the proper paperwork, it turned out.  I was crushed.

We were on the bow at this point, and we were still at anchor.  The view of the island was perfect, so I lit up an Hoyo de Monterrey, and Roberto and I took our ceremonial pictures.  I joked that only he and I knew that there was a Plaque (though my readers also know), and we can just post our pictures and make it seem like this view of the island was the purpose of our trip.  It was a great photo, and it definitely counted as our ceremonial picture at the WHS.

The only thing was, we could have saved 24 hours by anchoring at Isla San Benedicto, taking an almost identical picture, there, and turning around yesterday afternoon.  As soon as we finished our pictures, I told the captain it was time to go, which he translated to “Vamanos!” and it was anchors aweigh.  It will be late afternoon Wednesday when we get back to port, well behind our original schedule, but we should be able to make up the time by driving through the night, as I have described.

As we set sail, I watched the Plaque get further and further away, the failure setting in, and these ceremonial pictures becoming all we have to show from our voyage.  We took some more ceremonial pictures from the aft deck as we were underway, and then I sat down in my usual spot, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, as we have approximately 30 hours now with nothing to do but eat, drink, smoke, and sleep.  As I said, under other circumstances, 30 hours of doing nothing but eating, drinking, smoking, and sleeping would be an ideal way to spend the time, but the disappointment of our failure overshadows it.

Nautical twilight has just ended on our last night at sea.  I had hoped to take the establishing shot here during nautical twilight, but another bout of seasickness put pay to that idea.  Just ten minutes ago, though, the extent of nautical twilight was fully visible.  To my readers who are unfamiliar with the term, I should first define civil twilight.  That is the period that immediate follows sunset, while it is still light enough to engage in outdoor activities.  For my purposes, it is the period that I still allow myself to take outdoor photos with natural lighting.

The end of civil twilight is marked by what we commonly call dusk, which marks the beginning of nautical twilight.  During nautical twilight, it is too dark to use natural lighting for outdoor activities, but the sun can still be used for navigational purposes.  That is what I saw up until ten minutes ago.  Off the portside of the boat, the remnants of the setting sun were clearly visible, denoting what I knew to be west.  Off the starboard side, it looked like night, and stars were aplenty.  We are now in the period called astronomical twilight, which has to do with only stars of a certain brightness being visible.  After astronomolical twilight comes nightfall.  I am not concerned with those terms.

This is my last night at sea, and I am enjoying my 2012 Christmas Pipe, which is not a pipe that is usually associated with failure.  It is the pipe I smoked New Year’s Day in Quebec and Antarctica and Taipei and the Sydney Airport after the corresponding successful New Year’s Eve celebrations.  It is the pipe I smoked in Ephesus after so much success during my trip in Turkey.  It is the pipe I smoked in Port-au-Prince after I said, “North American West Indies Complete.”  This failure does not go well with the other successes on that list.  It is time to stop dwelling on that now, though, and it is time to start looking forward, towards the rest of the trip, towards “Mexico Complete”, and towards the Oscars.

After I closed this morning, I went down for a nap and got up for lunch, which was beef stew with mashed potatoes and tortillas.  The seas had become rough again, and I was not up for a beer, so I opted for sparkling water instead.  The meal was fine, but I was starting to feel queasy again.  I had a Graycliff after lunch and then turned in for another nap.  That seems to be the routine on this trip.  Sleep, eat, smoke, and repeat.

I got up around 5 PM, and I wanted to see the sunset from the upper deck, and I was feeling a little better, so it was my trusty Ardor and a Pacifico for the occasion.  Other than the sun, it was nothing but clear blue skies and blue water, so the sun slowly dipping below the horizon was not much to behold.  After my pipe and beer, I went down for dinner, and the rough seas continued.

It was pasta with meat and tomato sauces for dinner, the same thing we had our first night in port.  Even before I finished my meal, I knew that I would not be able to keep it down.  The boat itself keeps falling apart under these rough conditions, so I could not be expected to fare any better.  Fortunately I felt much better after I refunded my dinner, so I went to change into my pajamas and get my pipe.  I then lit up my 2012 Christmas Pipe and went to the aft deck, where I sat down and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, so that I can have some dessert before I go to sleep, maybe outside on the upper deck if that is manageable.

2/22/17, “Back to Port”

At sea, M/V Storm, Pacific Ocean, En route to Los Cabos

Fuck!  Fucking fuck fuck!  Not long after I woke up this morning, I learned that we would not be arriving to port until midnight tonight or even a little later.  I did not trust their early expectations of arriving at midday, and I always feared this would be the case.  Math is math, and it is undeniable when done accurately.  My math was accurate, and their hopes were not.  As it is, I have spent the better part of the morning calculating and planning, trying to figure out now Plans D, E, and F.

Plan B took effect the moment we learned we would not be able to leave Cabo Saturday night, and Plan C took effect when we arrived at Isla Socorro past sunset Monday night.  It is now Wednesday morning.  We were supposed to be halfway to Santa Rosalia by now.  As it is, we will not be spending the night in Santa Rosalia, no matter what.  Guerrero Negro will be the next dateline I write from land, I think, and it seems we will be overnight there on Thursday no matter what.  The order of the two WHS there and when we doing the driving is what changes in the various contingencies.

This trip is not turning out anything like planned, but, it is fortunate that I built in a two full Dutch Days into the trip.  One I traded in order to get home for the Oscars, and the other was already used up by the delays we have encountered.  Any further delays will require condensing the schedule more than already planned.  It is still doable, but things have gone from bad to worse, and, if we cannot get a car tonight, that will require us condensing the two northern WHS into the same day, which will be very challenging.

Roberto is still recovering from his sea sickness, so I am unable to run these contingencies by him at the moment, but, once he gets up, I will know for sure.  Further, we need to wait until we have a signal again before we can call Hertz and/or Scott to see what options we have for picking up a car tonight.  As it is, we have another 12 hours at sea before we are close enough to shore to pick up a cell signal.

After I closed last night, I had some ice cream, which always makes me feel better, and then I went to the upper deck, where I attempted to sleep.  I lied there for about four hours, and I’m not sure how much sleep I got, since the waves were so rough that I had trouble lying flat on the bench.  Around 1 AM, I went back to my cabin, and I woke up at 7 AM to find that the contents of my cabin had been tossed from the waves.

My suit pants were on the floor, pill bottles scattered, the waste basket upended, an expensive pipe fallen from the top berth to the hard floor, and my precious Christmas Cheer tobacco opened and partially spilled.  I put my cabin back together and found that I had no appetite, so I took my first shower of the trip.  The shower was actually better than the one in my apartment.  For that matter, the main deck of the boat is actually about the exact same size of my apartment.  After my shower, I went to the bridge to check on our ETA, and I learned that it would be after midnight, my fears confirmed.  That did not help my appetite.

I settled on some melon and coffee for breakfast and went outside for my Caoba after I was done with the fruit.  That was when I considered Plans D, E, and F.  Once I was satisfied that at least one of those contingencies would be viable, I read the last chapter of the last Harry Potter book.  I always say that Tolkien is the better writer, while Rowling is the better storyteller.  However, the last few chapters of “Deathly Hallows”, the last chapter in particular, especially the final duel between Harry and Voldemort, have a richness not found in the rest of her saga.  My memory of that richness was confirmed, but it still does not measure up to how Professor Tolkien showcases his linguistic ability in “Lord of the Rings”.

After this cigar, I will light up a pipe and get back to reading that, seeing as I have nothing else to do, though I suppose I should also write my philosophy paper, as well, but I’m not sure how much more writing I can do under these conditions.  After I finished the chapter, I retrieved my laptop and sat down in my usual spot, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can finish my cigar before continuing on with the day.

Not much has occurred in the 10 hours since I last wrote, but I would like to write now so that my entry at the port can be as short as possible.  The delay has allowed me to get this establishing shot of nautical twilight tonight that I alluded to last night, and the view is almost exactly the same.  In fact, the 10 hours since I last wrote has been spent exactly the same as the rest of the voyage: eating, drinking, smoking, and sleeping.  Scott seems to have made arrangements for transportation for us for when we get back to port, so this might actually work out with either Plan D or Plan E.  Plan D was picking up the car late at night and driving straight to San Ignatio.  Plan E was Scott providing us with alternative transportation for our journey up north.

We’ll see how it plays out.  I really do not want to have to resort to Plan F, which would be combining the two WHS on Friday.  It has been a long voyage, and I am anxious to get my cell signal back, to get back on land, and to get on with the rest of our journey.  There will be no rest for the weary, as we will need to make for San Ignatio with all haste the moment we set foot on the dock.  I do not regret undertaking this voyage, nor do I blame Scott, as his information was imperfect as ours.

Only Roberto seemed to know the extent of the paperwork required, and there was a breakdown in communication, as I played the middleman between Roberto and Scott.  The only people Scott had previously brought ashore at the islands were scientific expeditions, and surely they handled their own authorizations with the park service.  There was nothing to be done.

My only regret was that we lost the 24 hours by not anchoring at Isla San Benedicto, taking our ceremonial, and turning around then and there.  However, if we can make Guerrero Negro tomorrow night and have seen the rock paintings on the way, all will be well.  It has been a unique experience, Roberto and I having a boat to ourselves for four days with five crewmembers at our beck and call.

Meals were what we wanted and when we wanted them.  We could drink what we want and however much we wanted and when we wanted.  Smoking rules were lax, though common sense precluded smoking inside, though lighting up inside was no issue at all.  We slept the rest of the time with no shame.  The only downside, as I keep saying, is that, other than eating, drinking, smoking, and sleeping, there was naught to do.  I travel to seek adventure, and this adventure has certainly been one worthy of a Hobbits.

Certainly no Hobbit would complain about spending four days doing naught but eating, drinking, smoking, and sleeping, though they are none too found of boats and the open water.  They do not even like the small ones that go on rivers.  We are not Hobbits, though, we are Men.  If the rest of the trip is a success, this will be one for the record books.

After I closed this morning, I lit up an Ardor and got back to reading “Lord of the Rings”, and after my pipe, it was a nap, followed by lunch, beef quesadillas at my request.  After my lunch, it was a Graycliff, followed by ice cream sandwiches that I made myself.  After that, a nap, then I woke up to some activity, as Roberto and the crew were watching dolphins.

While I was making the ice cream sandwiches, the captain asked me to give him the rental car information so that he could relay it to Scott in hopes that Scott would be able to pick up the car for us and have it waiting at the port.

When I got up, I was immediately presented with a bowl of fried potato wedges, every bit as good as the ones that they make at KFC.  After the wedges, I lit up a Fuente, and Roberto told me that Scott would have a guide waiting for us at the port, who would take us to Guerrero Negro.  Was that really going to happen?  If he could have someone drive us where we needed to go, at the times we needed to be there, and save us the driving, it would more than make up for the delays.

I smoked my cigar and drank beer and did some homework.  After my homework, I read some more, and finished my Fuente before dinner, which was steak tacos, not dissimilar from the beef quesadillas I had for lunch, but these were even better.  It was Mexican merlot to drink with the tacos.

After dinner, I lit up a Por Larranga and watched the sun set, as I read more and drank my wine.  Technically, “Lord of the Rings” should only be read with pipes and beer, but the cigar and wine would have to do, as I was out of pipes.  As nautical twilight darkened the skies, I retrieved my laptop and went to my usual spot, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can make my final preparations for a speedy departure once we arrive at port.

In the name of completeness, I will need to write a brief entry at port, but this will serve as the reflective entry for the voyage, and it certainly has been an interesting voyage, all the more interesting given that I may need to make a similar, albeit shorter, voyage in Hawaii later in the year.

In Port, M/V Storm, Puerto Los Cabos, Baja California Sur, Mexico

This is literally going to be my first perfunctory entry ever.  We have arrived at port, and Scott has arranged a car for our journey north.  As soon as the car is here (and I finish this entry), we will be on our way.  Once we arrive at Central Baja in about 8 hours, we will, for better or worse, be back on our original schedule.

After I closed at sea, I had some ice cream, followed by an Oliva and more reading.  I waited for the chirps and pings and buzzes that would notify me that my cell signal had returned.  They did not come, even after my phone was saying I had a signal.  I had to restart my phone and then they came.  For a solid five minutes my phone chipred and pinged and buzzed, as the notifications poured in, including a humorous string of emails from my mother of the effect “Let me know when you land” “Are you okay?” “Seriously, are you okay” “I talked to Scott, glad you’re alive.”  I then caught up on all my notifications and uploaded my photo and did some research on the cave paintings.

After another hour, we were almost in port, so I went to the deck to await our arrival and, more importantly, the update from Scott.  He told us he had arranged for a car.  That was all we needed.  We all shook hands, and I gave one of the crewmembers the tip for the crew.  I then sat down in my usual spot, for the last time, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, so that we can begin the next part of our journey.