Category: Sail Tales

Sorprendentemente Bien En Mazatlan

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The plan was to sail from La Cruz to Isla Isabela, a day and a half sail.

Unfortunately, the conditions sucked. Rolly and nausea-inducing. The highlights — and believe me, there were few — were about a dozen turtle sightings, infinitely more welcoming than whales. The only other bonus? I was so queasy I inevitably lost some much needed poundage. Anyhoo. When we finally got to the island, the holding seemed as sketch as accounts had warned. So .we continued the sea suckage for another excruciating day and a half to Mazatlan, a place we had zero interest in visiting. We’d been there 30 years ago, and it was frankly an armpit. 

What a difference a few decades make.  Mazatlan far exceeded our (admittedly low) expectations.

We’d heard good things about the El Cid marina, and decided to dock there. (As I’ve said before, I’m a marina girl, so I was down for it regardless.) Either way, we were profoundly grateful to arrive and end that hellish passage. We anchored outside the harbor for several hours waiting for high tide, and communicated with the office and harbor master about our intentions. Despite that, it was a bit of a shit show once we finally entered the channel. The harbor master was no longer answering the radio, the office had no idea where our slip was, all the while we’re in the middle of the harbor, sleep deprived, irritable, and trying to keep it together.

We finally docked at a coveted end tie, but annoyed that we’d have to dock, go the office and pay, and then dock again. I’d emailed all our documents ahead of time, so we expected check-in at least to be easy breezy. It was easy, but as they couldn’t access the email account where I’d sent the info earlier, it wasn’t exactly breezy. Everything got done, just not as efficiently as we are (increasingly were) accustomed to. I am slowly learning to chill — not an insignificant lesson — and it turns out that the end tie was indeed our final slip destination. So at the end of the day, everything concluded like most things do in Mexico: late but ultimately handled, with much hand wringing on our side and absolutely zero on theirs.

El Cid Marina is also home to a resort, complete with tasteful pools, restaurants, ping-pong (where I handily defended my championship win streak against T), and a host of daily activities (of which we only did a stretching class, but it was good one). Found a couple of pickleball courts (always yay), had a manicure (6.5/7 out of ten, but 100% better than nothing), saw Thunderbolts (the only movie showing in English, and entertaining), and ate at some good restaurants. Old Mazatlan was especially nice, and we had a delicious Asian dinner just outside the square, with a churro ice cream sandwich that was off the charts good. (You know it’s good when you forget to take a picture because you’re in such a rush to dig in. The image below was downloaded from the web.) The square was super picturesque and bustling with music and activity.

We’d genuinely consider returning to Mazatlan, which I never ever thought I’d say, ever in life. It was seriously that bad back in the day: dusty, dreary, and kinda gross in general. Now it’s bustling with upscale hotels and restaurants, paved roads with bicycle lanes, palm trees, objective attractiveness. The transformation of the city is actually astounding. Who knew?

Mother’s Day is celebrated on Saturday vs Sunday In Mexico, and it’s a big deal. Lots of stores are closed (or close early), no one plays pickleball, restaurants are packed. We were leaving the following morning at the crack, so we spent the day prepping and provisioning, and T made one of my favorite indulgences: chicken wings and french fries. True story. And I enjoyed them. Thoroughly. Couldn’t pop the champagne (alcohol is never a good idea before a passage, especially one expected to be — again! — kinda brutal), so we cranked up the A/C (luxuriously), ate (heartily), watched the latest episode of The Last of Us (open-mouthedly), and got ready for a 7am exit to the Sea of Cortez. Specifically the plan is Playa de la Bonanza, where we’re hoping to find blue, swimmable water, sandy beaches, and maybe, just maybe, a chance to try our recently acquired spear gun.

Cruising To and In La Cruz

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The sail to La Cruz de Huanacaxtle was pretty choice. Day one we sailed in mostly perfect conditions. Day two brought more tranquil seas (such a drag to motor once you start to actually sail more), but we’ll call it a win with relatively few whales and relatively little drama (yaaasss!). Watched the ridiculous Night Agent series, finished Murakami’s satisfying Men Without Women, and dove into The Clockmaker’s Daughter, a promising novel by Kate Morton. We enjoyed dramatic sunsets followed by beautiful, clear, starry skies. Once again we arrived without a slip reservation, and once again we got lucky … and snagged the last available slip. Docking was a bit tricky for the 35K-pound (45 with all of our kit) Kouk — the slips here are shared by two boats with no dividers between — but we maneuvered like champs and high-fived it heartily upon arrival. Perfect location close to the marina office and “yacht club”, which is not a club at all but rather an air conditioned circular windowed room where people go to cool off, read, and do the various things that people do on their laptops. Upstairs is a beautiful rooftop bar and restaurant, where we cheers-ed to another safe passage with mescal (a drink I’m coming to increasingly appreciate), so-so tacos, and a lovely view of our dock.

La Cruz is rougher than the considerably more upscale San Jose del Cabo. (Had a conversation with another sailor who said San Jose had gotten too chi-chi for her. I found it more chic than chi-chi, but I am honestly not mad at either.).The streets are rocky and more often unpaved than not, the town square is nothing to write home about, and its restaurants are more homey than elegant. That said, the marina is all that and a bag of chips, and there are activities galore. Presentations on all things sailing are plentiful, an outdoor amphitheater with movie nights every Thursday, an impressive farmer’s market every Sunday with food, housewares, leather goods, live (excellent!) musical entertainment, and everything in between. And la piece de resistance … wait for it … three pickleball courts! There’s a lovely yoga class within walking distance on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, hosted in a condo complex that overlooks the ocean and where you can hear the waves and birds during your practice. There’s also a beautiful spa nearby, salsa lessons on Monday and Wednesday nights, and a refreshingly and reasonably priced fish market where we heartily consumed delicious shrimp, mahi mahi, tuna, and lobster. 

We (and I use “we” generously) made a ton of great dinners, hosted and hung out repeatedly with our friends Shannon and Andy on Tino Pai, made new friends, and had a few great nights out. One of the more memorable was at El Mar: modest location and ambiance, excellent fried shrimp and tacos. Mon ami mescal was served with salt, dried orange slices, and something that looked like little roaches. After wrestling with my shamefully pitiful Spanish, I finally understood that they were grasshoppers … which unfortunately tasted just like they looked. Something to be tried for sure, but let’s be clear: never to be voluntarily repeated. Apparently grasshoppers are a thing here, though … I had some more mezcal at another bar and the serving platter had what i thought was spicy salt but after inquiry revealed to be grasshopper (let’s just call them) crystals. Note: they’re decidedly tastier in dusty vs full body form. Could simply be a presentation thing. Either way, they’re much better licked than munched.

In actual boat news, Captain T installed the cockpit shower and the water heater. Much sweating and swearing ensued along the way, but we can now have a hot water rinse in the cockpit after a dunk, a hot shower on the boat when we’re not in a marina (or are too lazy to hike to the marina showers), and — finally — hot water to wash and rinse the dishes. No more greasy containers! Hallelujah! Next was the poop tank, so we’re really cooking with oil. Still used the bucket to avoid having to move the boat to empty the tank, but that bad boy is in working condition and the odeur (which we fortunately or unfortunately didn’t notice until it was totally gone) is ancient history. And as the final La Cruz project, Captain T installed air conditioning … the luxury I never knew how much we absolutely needed. I cannot adequately express how ridiculously delicious it is. I mean seriously … speechless. If the angels sang when the water heater and poop tank were installed, there was a full blown, Kirk Franklin-led gospel concert when we turned the air conditioning on, it worked (on the first try!), and we greedily indulged. I’d thought before that A/C was a nice-to-have. And it is. But I’d never. Ever. Go without it again. It is just … beyond.

I had to go back to the Bay Area unexpectedly because someone stole the rear license plate from my car (which my mom is driving). A good excuse to spend time with her and friends. Got some beautification in, did some puzzling, played some pickleball (shocker), went to Tommy T’s Comedy Club to see Guy Torry (unexpectedly hilarious, right up there in my top five comedy shows) and play some impromptu ping pong afterwards with one of my besties from high school. Had an amazing time with my favorite sister friend/sister-in-law and played (more!) pickleball, saw the tulips at Filoli Gardens, made dinner and libations, gabbed and spent the night together. (Side bar: such a shame that sleepovers are not really a thing when you get older. Soooo much fun.)

Then my mom flew back to La Cruz for a little vacation. Side bar number two: When I first heard about the Trump tariffs, my immediate thought was that champagne was going to go through the roof (not the most world-conscious view I know, but I’m just sayin’ …), so I ordered a bunch which I brought back from my Bay Area trip. What I hadn’t realized is that it would go bad when we leave the boat during the hot Mexican summer, so we have the rough-but-somebody’s-got-to-do-it job of consuming it all before July. Back to the story … more MoDa (Mother/Daughter) hijinks ensued in La Cruz, bookended by two champagne dates, some devastating (for Mom … ha!) Boggle games, spa time (with a small and deceptively aggressive masseuse who made me a forever convert from deep tissue to the more relaxing and civilized Swedish), salsa lessons, music bingo, more puzzling, and just lots of good ‘ole conversation. Mom had been hesitant to come and I’m so glad she did: the week flew by and we’ll both remember our special time together in La Cruz. Love you Mom … Carpe diem!

April is the last month of the season in La Cruz. The weather is getting hot, La Cruz Pickleball sessions ended (although we did get a small group together to play at Punta Pelicanos afterwards … thanks for the invite, Catherine!), the crowds everywhere noticeably thinned. We did our provisioning, had a final dinner party (kicked off with champagne, of course) with new friends, prepped the boat, and got ready to leave the marina. We ended up staying in La Cruz for a lovely, memorable two months. Next stops: island hopping in the Sea of Cortez before we put the Kouk on the hard in San Carlos.

A Whale of a Time in Los Frailes

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The sail from San Jose del Cabo to Los Frailes was easy and uneventful — just the way I like it — with the exception of an unnerving amount of whales. Dolphins are cute, whales up close are .. well … not. Not because they’re especially menacing, but rather because of their alarming nonchalance about their size. Like linebackers used to everyone getting out of their way, these blasé behemoths cavalierly glide and lollygag, breach and frolick, and in general have a grand ‘ole time … all the while completely oblivious and unconcerned about their absolute ability to upend your boat and end your sailing experience abruptly. We saw a couple dozen on our relatively short jaunt … as T pointed out, about 24 more than we needed to. 

It took us six hours to get to Los Frailes, an idyllic little spot with a long sandy beach, a scattering of houses, some fishing boats, and a few other sailors. It was super windy upon arrival, so we thought we’d have to keep a keen eye on the anchor and be prepared to haul out posthaste. Turns out we just happened to come in at a blustery moment. It was super chill almost immediately after we anchored, and we settled in nicely. T contacted the boat closest to us that was also on noforeignland — in case they had to contact us in the event we were dragging — and they invited us to a potluck party on the beach the following day. Sweet. 

We were in the cockpit night one, watching the latest episode of Shogun, when we heard it: a rather strong exhalation of breath. It took two more before we realized what the sound was: whales. Our neighbor had warned us about whales circling our boat, but … really? This might be — OK, definitely is — more up-close nature than a sistah signed up for. One of those “What exactly is your ass doing out here?” kind of “Now, girl, you know you knew better” moments that my melanated brethren in particular would be shaking their heads about when the tragedy ended up on the nightly news and they found out the identities of the deceased. The next morning, T shouted “Whale!” as one was brazenly circling our boat in the light of day. Hmmm. Let’s just hope Willy doesn’t decide to be extra free when we’re riding the dinghy to shore. And maybe we’ll just wait to christen that paddleboard …

Another unfortunate discovery on this trip was that our beloved Topo Chico is toxic. Isn’t it always the case that the good sh*t you really like never really likes you back? UGH. I’d had some stomach issues for a couple of days — I’ll spare you the details — and as the common denominator was Topo Chico, I decided to look it up. Turns out it has like ten times the amount of “forever” chemicals — polyfluoroalkyl substances or PFAs, advisably avoided and decidedly no bueno — allowed by the FDA. And we’d just stocked up on three cases of the stuff. Alas, my research and stomach are both forcing me to end this relationship prematurely. It was good while it lasted, but I’ll have to say adios to my newly discovered, gut busting, carbonated delight. Sorry, Topo Chico … Unfortunately it’s not me, it’s you. 

Anyhoo … The beach soiree happened a night later than planned, since the waves would’ve made dinghying to shore more of an adventure than necessary. It was fun when it did go down, though — still not without a bit of dinghy drama upon entry and exit — and we felt like true cruisers as we gathered wood, made and nursed a fire, and met our sailing neighbors for drinks, grub, and stories as the sun went down. We brought chop jae, banana bread and wine, and there were potatoes and meat and kids with sparklers and marshmallows and laughter and good times had by all. 

Los Frailes was a sweet little stop we’re glad we made (thanks S/V Tasi for the recommendation!). Our blubbery sea bros showed up again upon departure, so maybe it’s a hello/goodbye thing with them. Either way, as they just kinda mind their own business, there are luckily no tragic or cautionary tales to tell. Onward. Our next journey: a two-day sail to La Cruz. 

San Jose del Cabo Delivers

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I’ve been to San Jose a few times: twice on my own and once for my nephew’s wedding. It’s a super cute little town, and it has unsurprisingly developed quite a bit in the last decade. While it still has an artsy vibe, it’s considerably more upscale now. We knew almost immediately that one week just wasn’t gonna cut it. 

Day two we broke out the folding bikes to tour the town and scope out the local pickleball spot (shout out to Club Huerta!). Rode my bike there — a few intermittently hairy miles away — every other day-ish … and when my tires weren’t flattened by the sketchy road conditions. True confession: I am totally addicted to pickleball. I’ll admit that I’m an enabler, too. There, I’ve said it. Not apologizing, just sayin’. It’s just so. much. fun. I play for hours at a time and love every minute, win or lose. I of course prefer to win, but any good game works. And it’s always entertaining to see that while the names and hometowns change, the characters are pretty much the same: you’ve got your bangers, droppers and spinners; those who take the game entirely too seriously and those who pretend they don’t; the (usually male chauvinist) ball hoggers; the drivers who refuse to play close to the kitchen; the flagrant cheaters and the ones who almost always call a close ball out; the swearers and apologizers; young and old; all sizes, shapes, colors, and backgrounds. It’s truly a great equalizing sport, and the fact that you can go solo and get your fun, cardio, and socialization on for as long and hard as you want … chef’s kiss. Since T will play with me only under duress, and only enjoys playing with particular people, he’s always thrilled when he doesn’t have to sacrifice his time, jeopardize his body and ego (he has experienced some totally-not-funny-but-so-ridiculous-you-can’t-help-but-be-a-terrible-wife-and-chuckle court misfortunes), and inflame his plantar fasciitis just to indulge me. 

OK, moving on … Mexican food has not historically been my jam. But T got me into fish tacos a while ago and I’ve been hooked ever since. I’m happy to report that San Jose del Cabo did not disappoint in the taco department. The best we had were at La Lupita Taco y Mezcal downtown: not cheap, but both the tacos and mezcal were worth every peso and did the joint’s name justice. We did a repeater visit at their other location on Valentine’s Day and the sequel was just as good as the original. We also went on the perennial Thursday Art Walk (enriching and entertaining; a lot of incredible galleries here), biked to the local beach and christened our chairs and umbrella (the latter will require some future finessing), watched the Eagles destroy the Chiefs in the Super Bowl (sooooo satisfying), saw a movie (Absolution/Implacable. didn’t realize it was all in Spanish — with no subtitles — so didn’t get everything but was 100% clear that it was totally depressing and the absolute opposite mood we were going for at the time of viewing), did some puzzling, gave my nails and toes some much needed attention, visited the beautiful Gypsy Soul House (a decadent pampering indulgence that kicked off with the “nordic spa experience”: champagne, nuts and cranberries, followed by body exfoliation, outdoor shower, barrel sauna, cold plunge, sauna, shower, more champagne … all before a delicious 90-minute deep tissue massage. YUM). Groceries are about the same price as in the U.S. (how do the Mexicans afford it?), but spa treatments are bizarrely inexpensive. T got a haircut (long overdue), and also took a side trip to LA to visit friends and replace our busted water heater and poop tank. So our bucket squatting and cold water dishwashing days are numbered … hallelujah! 

One of the coolest things about cruising is the ability to alter your itinerary whenever and however you like. We ended up spending three weeks in San Jose vs. the originally planned one, and enjoyed our stay immensely. Next stop: Los Frailes, en route to La Cruz de Huanacaxtle — La Cruz for short — on the Riveria Nayarit.

Do You Know the Way to San Jose?

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We left Asunción for another three-day sail, this time to San Jose del Cabo … if they’d have us. All the marinas we checked with were full, so TBD. At minimum, we needed to find a place to take a proper shower, as the hygiene situation was getting pretty dire. Suffice it to say it was a good thing we didn’t have guests on board and the funk was confined to the family.

Chef T had prepped cranberry muffins, potato leek soup, and clam and garlic pizza for the journey. And when the weather window looked good, a huge pod of seemingly hundreds of dolphins assembled to bid us farewell. The seas were infinitely kinder to us on this passage, and our sailing to motoring ratio is improving. (It’s sooooo nice when the engine is off and everything is quiet.) T also hooked the water maker up. The good news: the install worked. The bad: water’s leaking from multiple hoses. We were running low on water, totally out of Topo Chico, and my eight-glass-a-day intake was taking a hit. So, totally inconvenient timing for that little convenience, but that’s a fix for another day. In the meantime, we were hardy and hydrated enough to eke out a few days of minimal H2O intake.

Night one was relatively (and blessedly) uneventful, with the exception of some drama I slept through: Apparently the pin sheared and fell out of the traveler, so the boom was totally free (no bueno). That said, the boom break mitigated what could have been a total disaster (muy beuno), and Captain T was able to get it under control and save the day (night) yet again. 

On day two, we debuted a new cockpit platform T constructed that gives us more lounging space. Divine. We also set out our fishing line for the first time, eagerly awaiting and discussing the preparation of the catch that never came. Day three was no better. Turns out we lost the lure on the virgin run, but no such excuse for the chaser. I’m sure that big catch is right around the corner, and will be all the more delicious for the wait. Finished Jo Nesbo’s The Leopard and Close to Home by Michael Magee. The former was a little disappointing (gratuitously convoluted), and the latter a good debut read from an unknown (to me, at least) young Irish author. Also finally read one of our daughter’s favorites: Instructions for Dancing, a sweet little love story by Nicola Yoon.

When we finally sailed into San Jose del Cabo, we were shocked by the weather change — like 20 degrees — and quickly changed from long johns to tank tops. This was after we recovered from wanting to kill each other upon arrival (combination of three days of less-than-ideal sleep, no slip reservation, hopeful and finally answered marina calls to check availability, confirmation that best marina option had never received our original documentation, scramble to resend said documentation with uncooperative scanner, wait for call back and ultimate thumbs up on slip availability, plus the ever-present anxiety around docking for fuel, blasé attendants necessitating three boat position changes, then final docking in a new marina slip, trying all along to rush but also not rush …) It was … well … a lot. After all that, the office offered us the option to get picked up for check in, but when we gave the thumbs up they informed us that our ride had run out of batteries. Huh? So we walked for what seemed like an eternity (actually 4,000 steps, but still … really? Just to check in and take a shower??) Turns out there’s a shower right next to our boat, so thank the gawds for that positive future note. We stopped for some extra crunchy (solid euphemism for shingle) fish and chips and ice cold Topo Chico when our business was done, and then made the extremely wise decision (cue the self back pat) to get a golf cart (OK, now the battery issue made sense) ride back. Settled in for some solid makeup sleep almost immediately. And with that, day one was successfully in the bag. Six more to look forward to.

Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad …

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We set sail from Ensenada to Asunción, a three-day cruise and our longest to date. Chef T made a delicious array of waist-busting carbs for the passage: saucepan cookies, banana bread, spaghetti bolognese, and fresh baguettes. Hoping at some point we’ll be slim again, ‘cuz we’re definitely currently on the fat track. 

No wifi or cell signal, so no feeding my obsession with New York Times Spelling Bee (serious, followed by, Wordle, Connections, and Strands. Not gonna lie, I go through a wee bit o’ withdrawal when I can’t get my games on …) Instead, alternating between Jo Nesbo (with his gratuitously complicated and macabre plots, The Leopard is par for the course), the ever-bizarre and thought-provoking Haruki Murakami (this time short stories, Men without Women), and a dash of Wordbubbles. It’s both disconcerting and liberating and to be forced out of connection when you’re in the middle of the ocean.

We were pumped that we avoided a nasty storm at the outset. The sea was glassy, the horizon stunning, skies clear, stars bountiful and bright. A day in and we finally turned the motor off. Immediate zen. We tried the Monitor windvane for the first time, too (an autopilot that uses wind vs. power). Averaging six knots, all three sails out, two reefs in the main … oh yeah, baby. 

Of course when everything’s going perfectly, the pendulum is bound to swing … and swing it did. Mightily. Unbeknownst to us, we were experiencing both the literal and proverbial calm before the storm. Whereas day 1 was heaven, day 2 was pure hell: nausea-inducing waves for a straight 24 hours. Went to bed feeling sick and woke up sick (just one slice of banana bread all day, so unsatisfying dry heaves on both occasions. TMI I know, but UGH). We finally broke outta that sh*t middle of day 3, The sun came out and the waves mellowed like they hadn’t just traumatized us. Regardless, we were thankful. Chef T whipped up some tasty pork fried rice and all was right again with the world. 

Arrived in Asunción and anchored without further incident. We ended up staying a week there. It was too windy to venture out sooner, and since we were still PTSD’d out after leg two of our previous passage, we didn’t want a preventable repeater. It meant that we couldn’t easily go to shore either, though, so we were landblocked most of the time. T went out with a local guy, Larry, one day to get more fuel, and pleasantly surprised me with a delicious mesquite-grilled chicken on the way back. (The man knows the way to his woman’s heart is through el pollo.) A couple days later the weather was relatively calm and we ventured into town to see what was what. Not a lot, honestly, but the people were super nice. We stocked up on our increasingly beloved Topo Chico mineral water, limes, relatively good looking meat, and some ginormous chicken drumsticks. I don’t know what they’re feeding their chickens in Asunción, but i’m not mad at them. T baked them with some vegetable paella, and feast we did — heartily and thankfully. I also made some banging pesto pasta with shrimp (yes, i do lift the occasional culinary finger). 

We also made two unfortunate and simultaneous discoveries in Asunción: leaks in the poop tank and in the hot water heater. The poop sitch is manageable. We just have to pump the goods regularly, which is no problemo. We’d been advised to replace the aluminum tank with a plastic one, and unwisely ignored said advice. Alas. So now we’ll have to try to get one mailed to Mexico and hope it reaches us some time this century. The hot water heater, on the other hand, will be annoying for more than a minute. Cuz … like … dishes? showers?? I was lamenting about both to a sailor friend, who said she didn’t use hot water unless she’d been sailing and the engine heated it up. I asked, “So how do you shower and wash dishes?” Her reply: “We take a swim in the ocean and rinse off in the cockpit, and sometimes the hose even gets warm from the sun. And we wash our dishes with salt water and rinse with fresh.” I was shooketh. And immediately knew she was more hardcore than I’ll ever be. She didn’t agree with me, but I need me some hot water. Stat. Not to mention a fresh mani: My nails are tragic.

Blissful Baja via Scrumptious San Diego

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We sailed 14 hours from Avalon to San Diego, and another 12 from San Diego to Ensenada. Both trips were delightfully uneventful, although the stretch to Mexico was pretty rolly.

San Diego is the epitome of California living. The weather is perfect, the people friendly, the entertainment accessible, and we were able to handle our business efficiently. We were told that we needed to stop here for exit paperwork (turns out that wasn’t necessarily the case, but the marina insisted on it in case we had an existing and therefore dreaded TIP — temporary import permit — on our dinghy). We had originally planned to sail straight to Mexico, but made the San Diego stop per our Ensenada marina’s request/mandate. We know people who weren’t able to enter the country because of an uncanceled TIP, so we were OK with taking the precaution.

So Cal makes you realize just how small San Francisco is.. We rented a car since San Diego is huge, which turned out to be a great decision. We did all of our exit paperwork, saw Nosferatu on the big screen, soaked in the decadent marina hot tub, provisioned (including the fiercely addictive Trader Joe’s cheese puffs and cheese crunchies, along with the mandatory chicken I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to find enough of in Mexico). I got a great mani/pedi and played some excellent pickleball at Waterfront Park, both a short distance from our marina. We finally got my critical puzzle deliveries (missed the drop off in Avalon), and put an exclamation point on our last day with a large order of Five Guys french fries (plus a double cheeseburger for T). Suffice it to say that our fitness journey is currently not a linear one.

We arrived in Mexico without incident and ultimately found our marina and slip. A little bit of confusion post docking when they hadn’t reserved us for 50-amp electrical, but we were exhausted and really didn’t; want to move. Luckily they finally let us borrow a 30-amp and all was well. We successfully handled all our business with the port captain the following day, and met up with Rodd and Shelly (S/V Tasi) for some fish (shark!) tacos and gab. T beat the pants off me at pool (it’s OK, he has to be able to win some game against me.

Got an excellent body scrub and 80-minute massage at the hotel spa. I usually request men since women tend to give wimpier massages, and when this tiny little Mexicana showed up my heart sank. But sistahood put a hurt-so-good deep tissue massage on me that left me muy, muy satisfied. Then my buzz was killed by the Texans losing to the cheater Chiefs in the playoffs. We hosted a sweet couple — Judy and Gene, who came to Ensenada four years ago and never left — for cocktails. One thing that’s great about living in a small space is how little time it takes to clean up before you’re expecting company. So even if I’m feeling like our place is not presentable for socializing, it doesn’t take long for it to be (excuse the obvious pun) shipshape.

Happy Holidays!

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We sailed from Ventura to Marina del Ray without incident, a little over 10 hours. We were here for only four days, but super nice marina again (yaaas!) and a great location overall. We went to an awesome happy hour at Salt, got the boat holiday ready, did some Christmas shopping, got my mani on. T met up with his childhood friend Philip from Massachusetts, who later joined us on the boat. They’d talked, but hadn’t seen one another for 30+ years. 

We decided to spend the holidays on Catalina Island, so sailed to Avalon. Kicked off a lovely Christmas with Chef T’s famous coffee cake — which never disappoints — and then ice cold champagne, the afore-mentioned Trader Joe’s cheese puffs, and bouillabaise for New Year’s Eve dinner. It was overcast and a bit chillier than expected, but nice when the sun was out, Since we were at anchor and trying to conserve water, showering wasn’t as accessible. Public showers ($3/5 minutes) were functional but nowhere near posh. Flip flops a must, and not a place you’d want to linger. Nevertheless, they did the trick and defunkified us.

We also played mini golf at one of the most beautifully landscapes courses I’ve ever seen. I won – as I love and tend to do — and pulled off 3 (!) holes in one, thank you very much, It was actually a close game, but the queen reigned victorious at the end. We also watched the 49ers play (and lose again) at Fix Biergarten, a cute little outdoor bar. Oh, and heads up: If you want to have a package delivered to the Avalon Post Office, don’t have a deadline.

Onward!

Ventura: Random … In the Most Delightful Way

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Kinda bizarre that I’ve lived in California most of my life and have rarely visited So Cal. The traffic is not for the faint of heart, but the weather makes you realize why California is such a popular destination.

Ventura is a sleepy, beautiful, and somewhat odd little town. Temperatures are mild and super pleasant. We rode our folding bikes and our Burley trolley (expensive but crazy handy) for grocery runs: just clip that bad boy on the back of your bike and you’re good to go. Got some excellent pickling in: four times a week at Harry Lyon Park. In retrospect it would have been much more cost effective to rent a car vs Ubering to the courts, which were not within biking distance, but hindsight and all … Met a super nice, welcoming, and age-diverse group of players. will really miss playing with them.

We stayed in Ventura for a minute. Docked there for about a week before and during Greece (September and October), then back in November through mid-December. Got comfortable with easy Amazon delivery, a variety of grocery stores, convenient bike riding, movie theaters, regular pickleball sessions, mani/pedis, laundry, showers, restaurants (big shout out to Baja Bay Surf ‘n Taco: they say they have the world’s best tacos, and I wasn’t mad at them …) Let me repeat: not a marina hater. At all

We’ve also found that the sailing community is relatively small and exceptionally friendly. We’ve socialized with more people since we moved on our boat than we had in all the years we lived in San Francisco. Our Ventura stay ended with the Parade of Lights — a lovely lighted boat show that culminated in fireworks rivaling any Fourth of July display — all of which we watched with unobstructed views from Sabine and Thomas’ slick catamaran Selador.

From Monterey to … ?

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Monterey is super cute and chill. Picturesque bike ride to some excellent pickleball (shout out to Via Paraiso Park!), great food, solid and much needed manicure … what’s not to love? We spent a few days there, then off to Morro Bay for our first overnight sail. I had been dreading this for obvious reasons, but it was infinitely less terrifying than I had envisioned, The auto pilot was working beautifully thanks to Captain T, and there were no other boats in sight. Bonus: the night wasn’t the pitch black I was expecting thanks to the moon and an abundance of stars. So in the morning, these salty sailors decided to keep going past Morro Bay and head straight to Santa Barbara.. When that wasn’t so bad either, we just kept going like the rock stars we are to our final destination: Ventura. We knew that Point Conception could be gnarly, and since we rounded it at night during a pretty good weather window, we went for it. Two back-to-back all day/night sails and we arrived safe and sound. After topping off our fuel, we took our lucky newbie asses straight to our slip. And with a little (OK, a lot of) guidance from T, I guided us in with no (physical, at least), damage done. Yaaaassss, queen.

Sidebar: I know we’ll primarily be at anchor (or “on the hook” since, you know, we use sailor terminology now), but I’m not ashamed to say that I do not hate a marina. No dinghy to wrestle with for shore excursions, no water or electricity restrictions, nice shower facilities, unlimited wi-fi … Exponentially more expensive, but sooooo worth it.