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.