After four months on San Carlos land, we were finally back on the water. We spent a week getting reacquainted with full time life on the hook, and then headed to Bahia Concepción, about 100 nautical miles southwest. Our noforeignland boat tracks confirmed (admonished?) that this was our first since June of last year, so we embarked on a 20-hour relatively uneventful (motor)sail — not including the mysterious loss of our autopilot, which annoyingly necessitated hand steering for most of the trip — and arrived on Santispac Beach: a sweet, peaceful little anchorage with markedly greener water and just a few other boats. RVs and campers like it too, since they can pitch tents in private palapas overlooking the sea and park in an open, under-crowded space behind them.

Since I’m rationing my puzzles (only four left, yikes), and can only intermittently ScrabbleGO (can’t seem to shake that habit) due to the end of 24/7 wifi, I’ve been reading again — voraciously, as is par for my endeavors course. First up: Erasure by Percival Everett, a prolific author whose work I was strangely unfamiliar with but came highly recommended by a soror with whom I’ve rekindled a relationship far stronger than it was in college (Shout out to Lisa!). Provocative with complex characters and intricate storylines, it is a clever, layered, and solid read. It also inspired the movie American Fiction, which won an Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay. Ironically I wasn’t as crazy about it after reading the book — too many immediate plot departures — but it’s nevertheless good to see him getting his flowers. Next up was Murakami, one of my favorites, with his memoir What I Talk About When I Talk About Running: Enjoyable, quick, and although autobiographical, still written in his signature style. I was also really struck by his quote “Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.” Poignant in its brevity and stark in its current application to family matters, it strongly resonated with me and was a total aha moment. I then read James, another Everett novel, also very well written and thought provoking. The two books are both different and familiar, and I look forward to reading more … maybe I Am Not Sidney Poitier next. Finally, Eastbound, by Maylis de Kerangal, another author recommendation by a good friend (Salut, Laurence!) is a tiny book packing a concentrated literary punch.

As is usually the case, we ate well: blueberry scones, pumpkin bread, steaks, mapo tofu, clam and garlic pizza, an unfortunate chicken dish by yours truly (Boo, New York Times), chicken wings (much more successful and fortunately commandeered by Captain T), and a surprisingly delicious and totally improvised celery, chicken, and potato soup. All told, our time at Santispac was incredibly chill and a pretty complete 180 from San Carlos. In addition to swimming, we did a big hike up a nearby mountain … but without the schedule of the gym and the regularity of pickleball, I’m going to have to carve out some time to do some weights and get some proper, regular exercise soon. T’s much better and more motivated to sweat in solitude (swimming, rowing, kayaking), while I like a routine and gravitate towards more organized activities that include — but don’t necessarily require communion with — other people. Either way, I’m gonna have to do better. Here’s hoping all that and more happens at our next stop: Playa el Burro.