Tag: nature

El Burro Beckons

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El Burro is part of a cluster of beaches in Bahia Concepción. so less than a one-hour sail from Santispac. The two spots are therefore both unsurprisingly similar and distinctly different. Same chill vibe, but more so. Fewer boats — not that were many in Santispac — and fewer huts, RVs, and people in general. The one cafe here, Nomadico, albeit expensive, has very good food, super hospitable proprietors, and excellent mezcal. Carlos, an enterprising local, sells fresh seafood on the beach. The weather was a perfect mid-80s with frequent welcome breezes. The water is clear and the sand is white.

Nothing about this place sucks.

We made two amazing improvements that I feel increasingly qualify us as legit sailors. 1) We made our own yogurt (not nearly as difficult as you might imagine), and 2) We got the water maker going. Both are game changers, but the latter tops the list. Now we can turn sea water into fresh drinking water wherever we go … and it’s actually good. Minds officially blown. To add to our sailorism, we tooled around the neighboring beaches on our dinghy — fully womaned by yours truly, thank you very much — and went for swims at each. One yielded a bountiful clam catch that unfortunately looked better than it tasted; we didn’t properly prep them so they were inedibly grainy. Alas, sea lessons learned.

Noteworthy grub: skewered prawns, pesto pasta with prawns, fresh halibut with udon noodles, chicken wings, rib eye steaks, baked chicken with vegetarian paella, bruschetta on freshly baked baguettes, chocolate chip cookies with walnuts … To be clear, no one is starving up in here. So (obviously necessarily) I’ve started doing boat workouts. Heather Robertson is my current go-to YouTube fitness chick: no frills and no nonsense. Maybe hope can still indeed be kept alive. 

We were here for the full moon and some epic evenings, many of which culminated in binge watching Happy Valley, an excellent and intense British drama series. I finished Hello Beautiful: not deep, and longer than it needed to be, but sufficiently engaging. And now, after years of it topping my list of favorites, I’ve started re-reading Anna Karenina. Like puzzles, I almost never revisit books. But I’ve been feeling the urge for something juicy and meaty, and Tolstoy fits the bill.

After two lovely weeks at El Burro, we headed to Mulegé to stock up on food and diesel (but no water, yes!) en route to Pulpita and then Isla Coronados.

Don’t Disturb This Groove

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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.

Diving Deep on Roatan

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Our trip from San Carlos to Los Angeles en route to Roatan was short and sweet. We spent three days in L.A. Beautified (haircuts for us both, the works —mani/pedi/brows/lashes — for moi). Played some pickleball. Saw one of T’s childhood friends for a BBQ (at which we drank too much and ate too little, a well known recipe for the disaster which inevitably befell me and almost waylaid our 5 am departure the following morning). Somehow we (meaning I) pulled it off and made it to Honduras not only in one piece with no additional messiness, but also with one less piece of luggage (stored in L.A.) Speaking T’s love language fo sho and got the trip off on the right foot after a very shaky start.

Roatan was hot, but not nearly as infernal as Mexico. We’d stayed at Las Rocas before and got our same little cabana, surrounded by lush greenery, a porch with a hammock, and the ever-present-and-still-unnerving armed guards. Makes you wonder what could go on without them … We took a couple of days to settle in and catch up on sleep, then I kicked off our activity spree with a water taxi to the West End to get my pickleball fix. They play every day except Sunday, 8 – 10ish, with two courts and another super friendly crew. So on the days i didn’t dive I gladly braved the formidable heat to get my pickleball on.

That said, Las Rocas is a dive resort. And dive we did. (That’s why we went, after all.) My goal was to get to 100 dives — and I’m never mad at a goal — so I did 33 dives to get to 100 exactly! The diving there is both beautiful and crazy convenient. The marine life is super abundant and rich, the water clear and warm (average 84 degrees), and the dives themselves diverse and interesting and always 100% zen. Literally dozens of different species, with a shark, sea turtles, spotted eagle rays, stingrays, barracuda, squid, moray eels, and some super sweet swim throughs thrown in for bonus dramatic effect. I took the GoPro out for its virgin runs, despite owning it for years. (Always seemed like too much to add to the whole already cumbersome diving sitch.) But as is the case with most things procrastinatory, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t pulled the trigger earlier. Soooo easy, soooo cool, and soooo worth it! On top of all that diving deliciousness, the boat that leaves three times a day was literally steps from our cabana’s front door, they set up all our equipment and broke everything down before and after each dive, and they stored it all in the dive shop and loaded it back on the boat before every excursion. Chef’s kiss on the entire Las Rocas diving experience.

My sister-in-law joined us for a week, and that was ridiculously fun. We talked and laughed and drank and ate on loop, dived, played pickleball, watched the weekly beach crab races (far less interesting in practice than it sounds), and did some puzzling (with much kinder chasers to the masochistic one I started the vacation with) together. She’s an amazing, true, joyful, thoughtful, supportive, always game friend and confidante (37 years!) with the perfect mix of mischief and joie de vivre. Love you, Jude!

We ended up staying on Roatan for almost a month — twice the time of our first trip in 2023 — so we were ready to go when our departure date finally arrived. Milked the hell out of our time there, and enjoyed every second. Next up: a brief stay in Los Angeles again (Marina Del Rey, to be exact) before we head to Greece for a few months. The added bonus of diving so much on Roatan is that I likely won’t feel the need to dive in the overpriced and frankly underwhelming underwater worlds of Greece. One (admittedly super heavy) bag we can leave behind + one (consequentially super happy) husband = total travel win-win. Onward!

First Foray Into the Sea of Cortez

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We left Mazatlán at the perfect time in the morning to ride the tide and avoid any wind nastiness. Best Mother’s Day gift ever. We planned to go to Playa Bonanza, but conditions were such that we kept going to Agua verde. Took us two days to get here, and it was well worth the trip. They said the Sea of Cortez is beautiful, and from what we can see, so far they’re absolutely correct.

En route, tons of turtles: some solo, some with avian hitchhikers, some in pods, all (seemingly, at least) incredibly chill. I wondered if they get lonely, or crave companionship of some kind. Do they welcome their transient feathered friends, or are they indifferent? Do they have feelings (at whatever level of consciousness), do they enjoy their travels, or do they simply pass their days and drift mindlessly wherever the current takes them? Curious, I turned to the Almighty Google and learned that sea turtles are essentially solitary creatures. They migrate hundreds — sometimes thousands — of miles from feeding to nesting grounds … the rare times they travel in groups, and still not necessarily. The females faithfully return to their own natal beach to get their nest on, while the males are the ultimate wanderers, never usually returning to land after they hit the sea. That said, neither would win any parenting awards. While the absentee fathers are drifting off doing their own thing, the mothers are euphemistically free-ranging it: laying their eggs, digging their nests, and heading back to the ocean, leaving their babies to hatch on their own and fend for themselves. “I’ve done my part, sweeties … smooches, good luck, and bon voyage!” Many live to be over 100 years old, so if you make it, you really make it. So there you have it. You’re welcome.

Back to our regularly scheduled program … The passage had promised to be a rocky repeater, but day one was unexpectedly pleasant. Not a ton of wind, with a beautiful sunset and a bright full moon. Later that night the wind picked up so we could finally turn the motor off. Unfortunately that also meant the rolling waves were back —strong, but at least not debilitating. We ultimately arrived at Agua Verde without major incident. greeted by a fish skipping along quickly, vertically, and totally comically on its tail (although maybe not funny to him; looked like brotherman was trying to get the hell outta dodge), and a 100-strong dolphin pod (which I wasn’t quick enough to capture on video. Gotta work on that …)

Agua verde is simple and unassumingly beautiful, with a pristine beach and a backdrop of dramatic rock formations. About a half dozen boats anchored; sweet little beach with a couple of restaurants, huts, and tent palapas; pretty clear water; breathtaking sunsets; and quite the abundance of pelicans. We thought people were throwing chum in the water since they were so active and plentiful, but turns out there’s just that much fish there. We rowed to shore and had a deliciously fresh fish taco lunch, visited the mini market, headed back. devoured baby back pork ribs and rice for dinner.

Day 3 T busted out the Pakayak: a monstrous modular kayak that I’d been against because of the cost, size, and general unwieldiness. Plus we were only going to get one (again, size, ugh,) so I also had major FOMO. But he’d researched it, ignored the fact that we’re on a monohull, and proceeded to store it our berth (more ugh). Ultimately, and wisely for the sake of our marriage, he had the good sense to store it on the bow. Six months later (!), it was finally launch time. A little rocky at first, but he ultimately conquered it and made an island circumvention. 

Day 4 I had a first leap off the boat into the ocean. refreshingly perfect temperature. T had another (much more successful) trip on the Pakayak, and we had dinner at restaurant #2 — grilled fish with soggy yet somehow tasty rice. Bonus: I slaughtered him (seriously, it was a blood bath) in three back to back backgammon games.

Finished The Clockmaker’s Daughter: a mixture of tedium and intrigue, with the latter just edging out  the former. Started on the often-cringily-trying-a-bit-too-hard-but-usually-entertaining-nevertheless David Sedaris’ Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls. Our idyll was interrupted, however, when our generator gave out on us, and Captain T was uncharacteristically unable to fix it. So … with no generator to top off our power, it was time to move on to a marina and get ourselves sorted. Next stop: Puerto Escondido.