It was a little jolting to be back in Mexico after a few weeks on the west coast. And while it was fun (always!) to see family and friends in the Bay Area, it was cold … and even colder in Washington (made a quick jaunt to catch up with a longtime friend and see the highly entertaining RuPaul’s Drag Christmas), so it was expected but still bizarre to be hit by the Mexican heat wall upon our December arrival. Definitely neither sweaters nor gloves wanted nor needed.

It was nice too to be back in San Carlos, specifically. It’s a little city with dramatic mountains, beaches, and skylines, and it grows on you the more time you spend there. Since the Kouk was on the hard, we rented an apartment to facilitate boat prep, wait out the nasty northerlies, and frankly minimize unnecessary roughing it (cuz … why?). Our first full day we hightailed it to the nearest (OK, only) gym, and signed up immediately to atone for our extensive European dietary transgressions and diminish as much proof of said sins as possible. And, of course, as San Carlos is home to the largest (16-court!) pickleball club in Mexico, I re-registered posthaste.

It goes without saying that traveling is fantastic. That said, it’s also nice to stay put for a minute and relish a little routine. I did yoga and weights and pilates reformer classes three times a week, played pickleball three to five times a week, and rode my folding bike to and from each venue. I also participated in a few pickleball tournaments. Even won gold in one, although I’m at least currently convinced that tourneys aren’t my thing: too stressful and pressure packed, thus not especially enjoyable, which is after all the point … What was T doing during all this time you might ask? Well, working on the boat por supuesto. He had a list of literally hundreds of tasks, and blessedly didn’t want me in the way for most of it. It also gave him an excuse to blow off his gym membership, so a win-win. 

Anyhoo, we met some great people, had some great times, and were essentially in no rush to leave. I got my drama out of the way early on: wide street grate plus unfortunate forearm, knee, and leggings disaster plus shocked lying-in-the-street-but-trying-to-get-up-quickly-to-avoid-prolonged-mortification plus bravely riding home dripping blood plus prompt spousal doctoring (with iodine, no less) equalled an experience that was inevitably all uphill from there. Between the shrimp festival (winner: to-die-for bacon wrapped langoustine), full moon beach party complete with beautifully colorful fire-lit lanterns we personally launched into the clear black sky, locally produced and somewhat insane musical The Follies, countless plates of amazing avocado toast with fried egg and bacon (crazy yum) on the courts made by the equally amazing Sarayi, on par with the bulging containers of Pollo Lopez’s consistently delicious rotisserie chicken with roasted potatoes and onions peppers and salsa that just fit in my pickleball backpack, a host of good dinners and card games and the continued refinement of my escalating mezcal addiction … ummm, appreciation … some seriously good times were had by all. 

With the exception of a week in lively Mexico City, we stayed in San Carlos almost exactly four months. The final countdown was the first week of April, when we left our last apartment, moved away from easy access showers and dishwashers and water and large washer/dryers and air conditioning, and back onto the boat. We then put a punctuation mark on all of T’s hard work and did some majorly satisfactory cleaning — the likes of which you generally only do when you’re about to sell your house — and settled into life in the yard before we provisioned for our next passage and finally (successfully!) splashed on April 7. Despite the fabulous stay it was time, and we were ready to spend a few months escaping the heat of the city and exploring more of the Sea of Cortez. We anchored for a few more days before we said gracias and adios to San Carlos, and headed to our next stop: Bahia Concepción.