1 January - 17 February, 2010 Mazatlan and Mardi Gras

She did not get the boa for free ...


Everybody ... Everything ... got beads


Julie with a few of her favorite beads and the leather mask she bought in Mazatlan for Mardi Gras


Our haul of beads


Julie, typically, finding herself between the Angels of light and darkness - arms wrapped tightly around both


Julie with one of the revelers


... a typical parade scene ...


January – Julie finished working in Ellensburg and dehydrating her bison jerky and fruit. We had two suitcases filled with jerky and dried fruit when we boarded the plane for Denver. We’ll spend a couple of weeks in Colorado skiing and then return to the boat.

We rented a condo in Keystone for three days and the skiing was great. Not sure how much longer we’ll continue skiing though; it just doesn’t have the zip it used too. Tim and Amy (his fiancé) flew into CO and spent a couple of day with us. Tim had been deployed to Iraq and Amy just returned from a deployment (she’s a Marine too). Tim was telling us about Camel Spiders (http://www.camelspiders.net) an arachnid peculiar to that latitude of the world. They are startling to look at, quite large and can run as fast as a human. Tim says that many of the US Forces think the spiders are chasing them, but they are only trying to get into the shade your body creates, “because it fuckin’ hot out there.”

Apparently one of the new Marines, unaccustomed to this scary little creature, encountered a Camel Spider in the laundry facility. Being a good Marine, he adapted, improvised and overcame. In short, he opened up on the camel spider with his 5.56mm, M-16 assault rifle. He took several shots from over head and then pumped a couple of rounds beneath the washers and dryers where the spider had taken cover. Gunfire inside the compound is taken seriously and half the camp came charging from their tents convinced there had been a breach in the compound. Security quickly found the source of the gunfire and separated the vigilant Marine from his weapon. The spider was never found, but several washers and dryers took direct hits.

We returned to Mexico with only a slight glitch in our flight and made it through customs even though we got the red light. We were worried about all of the dehydrated goodies Julie had made, but the customs agent did a cursory check of our luggage and sent us on our way.

Prior to sailing south, we decided we wanted to go the Copper Canyon as we had heard from many cruisers about its spectacular beauty. The Copper Canyon is a series of canyons, larger than the Grand Canyon and deeper in spots. To get there we took a six-hour bus ride from Mazatlan to Los Mochis, spent the night in a hotel and then hopped aboard a train for another 10-hour ride to Creel, in the State of Chihuahua, MX, at the top of the Copper Canyon.

Public transportation in Mexico is excellent and very comfortable. The buses are huge; toilets are clean; coffee is available; seats recline with plenty of legroom, including built in leg rests to support your calves; and, movies are played in English and Spanish. The train, which runs through the Copper Canyon between Los Mochis and Chihuahua, is equally clean, comfortable and includes a bar and dining car.

While the transportation was priced right and very relaxing, the Copper Canyon itself turned out to be not so terrific. Take this with a grain of salt though as we are the only cruisers, that we know, that didn’t think it was spectacular. The train trip through the canyon reminded me of driving through the foothills of the Rockies. The tour from our hotel in Creel was equally as routine and included 12 of us packed into a 10-passenger van with a mute driver. We stopped at a lake (?); we hiked to a barely running waterfall; we took pictures of rock formations that looked like various animals, and … well you get the picture. We visited with the Tarahumara Indians (natives of the area) and purchased some baskets from them. While it wasn’t a complete bust, it’s not something I would not recommend; again we’re in a minority. (Addendum - After talking with several other cruisers who have been to the Copper Canyon it seems El Fuerte (home of Zorro), San Rafael and Divisadaro are the stops to make. For more information on the Copper Canyon go to; Wikipedia; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Copper_Canyon.

February - Upon our return, Julie had several bad days with a toothache. Rather than starting south we decided it prudent to get her tooth fixed. Her first dental appointment resulted in a referral to have a root canal. The next day we went to the Endodontist and he, painfully, removed a bridge Julie had installed 20 years ago. The crown on the tooth had perforated and the Endodontist was unable to do the root canal, as the tooth was too badly decayed. He sent Julie back to the original dentist, who pulled her tooth the next day (day three). I gave Julie some hydrocodone for pain and she has been happily sleeping with brief visiting periods. The pain is still there; she just doesn't care. She’ll wait a couple of months, for the bone to heal, before deciding if she wants to have an implant. The whole thing cost less than $300 (US).

In the meantime, the boats engine needed its 1000-hour check-up; part of which is checking the shaft alignment. In trying to align the shaft the yard discovered it was bent. No man wants a shaft out of alignment and certainly not bent! The boat will need to be hauled and either the engine removed or the ruder dropped to repair/replace the shaft. Getting entangled in fishing line, hitting something or strap misplacement when hauling out can bend the shaft. The first two I know didn’t happen to us, so the shaft either go bent on haul-out or it came from the foundry that way (it was new when I re-powered two years ago). The delay is OK as Julies’ tooth pain has not quite subsided and she wants to recover the cushions in the salon. This will give us chance to do those things.

Some months ago we planned a trip to Mardi Gras in New Orleans. We’ve attended Carnival (another name for Mardi Gras) here in Mazatlan, which is the third largest pre-Lent festival in the world; Rio being the largest and New Orleans being the second largest. Mardi Gras/Carnival is celebrated all over the world; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carnival. Our original intention was to sail the boat to Puerto Vallarta (PV), fly to New Orleans and return to PV, but with the boat out of commission (shaft problem) we needed to adjust. We took an all night bus ride to PV to catch our flight to New Orleans (while in PV we visited with cruising friends PEPE and BRENDAN, who we met on the “Ha-Ha.”)

In New Orleans, we stayed in the French Quarter - three blocks from Bourbon Street. We arrived on Friday night and the festivities had been going on for the past week as the Saints had won the Super Bowl. Bourbon Street was packed with revelers every night and most of the day. The music was loud, the liquor was flowing freely and partying was hearty! While the crowd was well lubricated, everyone remained polite and courteous. It was surprisingly cold in New Orleans. The skies were clear but the temperatures were in the mid 30’s to 40’s (not very conducive to flashing). Even so, the girls (and guys) were flashing away … from 18 to 80 … everyone participated. Julie had a special request to flash her magnificent breasts and she was rewarded suitably with three unique sets of beads. She took her time and allowed many pictures to be taken. Many women, even though it was cold, were shirtless but body painted. They were so well camouflaged that Julie had to (I’m ashamed to admit) repeatedly point them out to me. At times we were part of a mob and barely able to negotiate the direction we wished to go. The police were ever-present but did not inhibit the festivities. Those few characters that did get out of line were quickly sorted out with a stern reprimand (one young man was even put on his knees, facing the wall, for a quick time-out) and then sent on their way, penitent for their transgressions.

The parades were numerous and endless. Anyone who wanted to could be in a parade. The parade participants that passed us went something like this; float, marching band, costume dance troop, Chevrolet pickup, police car, suburban, a couple of guys walking, budget rental truck, military marching troop, spare tractor, float, etc. Some of the floats were quite ornate and the beads flew plentiful from them … sometimes a gentle loft into the crowd and other times a fastball right down the middle. Julie got nailed in the mouth with an errant pitch (high and inside), but she's OK ... no damage. A guy standing behind me got nailed with some big beads that nearly knocked him on his kester. We attended only three parades (two during the day and one at night) for several hours each, but didn’t stay to the end of any of them.

We've been to several restaurants here in the French Quarter for gumbo, crawfish étouffée, jambalaya and a beef po' boy. All of the food was either soupy and/or cold. I’m told gumbo has sausage and shrimp in it; mine did not; I was able to discern some mashed okra though. My po’boy was cold beef beneath two halves of Swiss cheese with a tablespoon of cold beef gravy on the cheese; the bun was good though. Julies crawfish étouffée had two tiny crawfish tails in it the size of the end of your little finger and her jambalaya was spicy (hot), tomato … something. We gave up and went back to McDonalds for our meals.

The stores in New Orleans are mostly closed during Mardi Gras. The nicer restaurants; K-Paul, Spagos, Emerils and Dickie Brennans were all closed. Many stores closed because they were on one of the parade routes. However, we were told, most stores closed because it was too hard for them to get and retain help during Mardi Gras, so they just gave up and closed for the festivities. We took a paddleboat tour up the Mississippi and our taxi driver took us to where the dike broke. It is amazing that almost the entire city is built below the water line of the surrounding lakes and rivers. Go figure ...

Mardi Gras is a vacation we would both repeat.

3 October - 30 December, 2009 Mazatlan (again)

Itchen with her spiffy new paint job at a 20 degree starboard list while still tied to the dock during Hurricane Rick.



This is the boat that snapped its bowlines and was adrift until the pilings stopped it.


This boat has so little freeboard that the rails are sliding under the dock. Look at the picture and you can see it lift up the end of the dock.



Itchens new counter tops


October - Danny (a childhood friend) and I drove to Mazatlan, with overnights in Phoenix, AZ and Obregon, MX. Driving down to Mazatlan was like old times. Each of us could easily have been 10 years old and ditching catechism to go to Rogers Donut Shop (which is how we met). We’ve known one another for 47 years and still we have to check each other from getting into trouble. Long-term friends are a rarity.

In Arizona, they have a plethora of radar camera cars, parked along the highway, to measure vehicles’ speed. They also have sensing devices in the road that measures vehicular speed … so they say. The magic road that measured my speed sent me a speeding ticket. I didn’t know I’d received a speeding ticket until Julie told me about it two weeks later. It arrived in the mail; $180.00 and not a damn thing I can do about it!

We arrived in Mazatlan Monday afternoon in oppressive heat and sweltering humidity. We were told that the worst was over and the current heat was paradise compared to the summer. I don’t know why they just don’t build this country on the sun. The boat was in the water and looked pretty spiffy with her new paint job. We began to refit her with all the gear Julie and I had taken off in May. Holy crap it’s a big job, so much to unpack and remember where it went and how! The boat was insect free and there was no damage save one book (the books were the only thing we hadn’t put in plastic bags). We settled in to getting the boat up to speed, installing the new items and opening, operating, lubricating, filling and cleaning everything else. Danny stayed until the end of the week when he flew back to Colorado

Just after Danny left I became ill with intestinal problems, which laid me up for a week. A couple of days before Danny departed, we were invited for dinner to QUATRO VIENTOS, a massive 53-foot Force 50 ketch, moored next to us. Our hosts were British, and they have no concept of moderation when it comes to alcohol. Throughout dinner and well into the evening, I proceeded (actually it’s their fault) to get completely trashed. I was so drunk when we returned to the boat, that when I lay down in my berth the boat began spinning, like a top. At first I thought I might die, and then I was afraid I might not. The next day I was a little under the weather and it got progressively worse. By the end of the week I was pretty much incapacitated, hovering near the bathroom with severe diarrhea. After five more days of doing, and eating nothing I convinced myself I had amoebic dysentery. I decided it was time to go to the Doctor. The secretary at Total Yacht Works (the boat yard) Julie, called the physician’s office for me in the morning and by that afternoon I had been seen and treated.

During my confinement, I had been talking with Chuck about my illness, but inadvertently failed to confess my drunken escapade. When I did, he quickly discovered that my current illness was precipitated by the alcoholic binge I had (and Danny did not) on QUATRO VEINTOS. Chuck discovered that my alcohol consumption, that night, was enough to strip my bowel of its protective mucosal layer. There were some contaminants in my water tanks, not enough to make one sick under normal circumstances, but in my delicate condition, I became susceptible to the little vermin. Thankfully, the physician I saw was not swayed by my authoritative diagnosis and treated me correctly, even though I failed to tell him, as well, about my drinking binge. Upon my recovery, I immediately sterilized my water tanks.

As a side note and in my estimation, the health and dental care in Mexico is as good, more accessible and far less expensive than equivalent care in the US. I’ve seen fellow cruisers undergo major operations, receive chemotherapy and healthcare for chronic conditions with little or no problem. In my case, within hours of initially requesting an appointment, I was seen, given the necessary exam, diagnosed and treated. The physicians’ visit, the three medications, and the follow-up lab work cost a little under $70.00 US, from soup to nuts. I cannot think of anytime I’ve received care that quickly, in the US (anyone who has spent time in a US emergency room or tried to get a physicians appointment can attest to that).

In my defense, I’ve only been that drunk three times in my life (two since we’ve been cruising) and I don’t like it! In all fairness, the last two times, really, were not my fault! I would never do this to myself. I’m not a heavy drinker, but these … these … professional drinkers sneak up on me and take advantage of my good nature and innocence.
1) I must resolve to be more vigilant when the liquor starts flowing like water and I must carefully watch the amount of alcohol that is being poured into my glass.
2) I must always remind myself that the cruising community consumes huge, voluminous, capacious, large and sizeable amounts of alcohol.
3) I must know that cruisers are clever in developing ways to expedite their alcohol consumption (including two boats that have installed five-gallon tanks complete with electric pump and permanently mounted bulkhead spigot) in an effort to minimize time wasted in opening a bottle. In this last case I must admit, a high degree of style is awarded for creativity.

I recovered and resumed my chores. I cleaned the hull and deck of the boat yesterday; the first time since I’ve returned. I just had a bad afternoon of it. The chore was labor intensive and unusually unrewarding. I got the boat painted to avoid this type of work in the first place and here I was cleaning the deck a second time in the same day as almost none of the stains on my brand new non-skid came off the first time. I was frustrated and pissed. Midway through the second wash, the water guy came by to deliver 50 gallons of water (... an unanticipated and uninvited delay). I filled the water tanks and resumed cleaning the deck. The hose kept kinking, adding to my frustration, and the beer, I was self medicating with, was not helping. I leaned over the bow rail, swearing and fuming to myself, while scrubbing the hull. I was way off my center of gravity, but keeping my purchase with my feet gripping the non-skid. I felt my toes slip and I somersaulted right over the rail. Mid-somersault I reached back and grabbed the top rail with my free hand. Boing! I wound up hanging from the boat by one hand (like Tarzan on his vines) with only my feet in the water. Now I'm really pissed! I went to pull (kip) myself up over the top rail and made it about half way up before falling back down to my previous, untenable and embarrassing position. I hand over handed it down the rail until I was close enough to get my feet on the dock and leverage myself up. You can imagine my emotional state at this point. I hadn't broken anything yet, but the language was colorful and I was anxious for someone to say something ... anything! I finished re-scrubbing the deck and non-skid with a stiff bristle brush and rubbing compound. It made some improvement, but the greasy shoe prints remained. I’ll need to get an industrial cleaner to remove the stains. Last, but certainly not least, the dripless packing gland is dripping like it has gonorrhea (one more thing on the list to fix).

I’m having steel rails fabricated on which to mount the solar panels; they will go over the bimini. The steel came out three times before he finally sent his workers out to do the job. I’m also having a carpenter make louvered salon cabinet doors to replace the black plastic sliders in the salon. The carpenter came out immediately, took the measurements and collected $200.00 US for materials, promising to have it done in a week. The weather is beautiful, but it’s the tail end of the hurricane season and one is brewing south of us.

Hurricane Rick arrived. It was 300 miles out at sea and headed for Cabo when it took a sharp right turn and, like bees to honey, headed straight for Mazatlan. By the time it reached us, the wind speed had decreased to 79 mph (from its maximum of 180 mph). All the cruisers hustled about and secured their boats and then waited. 2100 - the winds picked up and the rain started pelting the coach roof. 0300 - the boat now holding steady at a 20-degree starboard list, even though tied to the dock. Routine inspections of the boat reassured me it was a solid and dry boat. Sunrise – the boat remained healed over and the first glimpse of the dark and forbidding sky became apparent. 0730 – One of the boats broke loose, a behemoth 50-foot ferrous cement boat. The bowlines snapped and the vessels bow swung around broadside into the raging storm; it was stopped by one of the new dock pilings. Had the piling not been there, the boat would’ve plowed through eight other boats, on its short trip to shore. 0800- the eye is overhead with clear, bright skies and no wind. 0830 – the eye has passed and the wind has reversed direction; the boat is now on a 20-degree port list (still tied to the dock). 1000 – it’s all over. No boats damaged (save some scuff marks on the ferrous cement boat), but the land buildings and Mazatlan have taken a beating.

November – Refurbished the galley counter tops. I sprayed on a plastic primer over the white Formica, then applied textured patio furniture paint and covered that with 10 coats of clear varnish. It’s looks pretty good (certainly better than the dated white counter tops). I flipped over the mainsail cover and attached my lazy jacks to it. Now when I drop the main, the lazy jacks guide the sail into the cover and all I need do is button it up.

Thanksgiving – Flew to WA to be with Julie for 10 days. Rented a car and drove over a snow covered Snoqualmie pass. The bully snowplows had me boxed in and wouldn’t let me through, until we came upon a stalled tractor-trailer in the middle of the road. It broke up the bullies “Flying V” formation and I squirted through. I arrived at Julie’s about 0300. While at Julie’s, she was given some venison and elk, which we turned into jerky and she picked 8 bushels of apples and pears which she turned into fruit roll ups.

December – Still messing about on the boat. Painted all the inside lockers, and the grab rails on the coach roof. Nothing ... nothing, is easy on a boat. I brought two 85-watt solar panels down from the States. In addition to the delays with the steel guy: I had to find aluminum stock (not an easy task in Mexico) to mount on the solar panels: mount the brackets on aluminum stock: and, then attach the whole thing to the steel rails. Putting it all together is a miserable and tedious event, which involved a good deal of alcohol, swearing, mounting and screwing … unscrewing, remounting and figuring out incomplete wiring directions. It must’ve helped because the solar panels are up and working.

I haven’t heard anything from the carpenter and he is nowhere to be found. I’m told he probably took the money and got drunk. After a month of being unable to contact him, I went to the police with his name, address and business license. The police were on it immediately and issued a summons for his arrest. Today I found out that he is no longer at the address and they have no way of tracking him down. Case closed. The near-do-well got away with my money and I still have no cabinet doors. I contacted another carpenter (referred to me by a contractor) who came out, took measurements and asked for money up front too. “Nope,” I said. I explained my recent misfortune and I was unwilling to be burned again. The contractor reassured me of this carpenters honesty and put his name behind the guy. The doors will be made of Spanish cedar (stained appropriately) and have three horizontal slits for ventilation. They’ll be sectioned two to a cabinet and drop down (as opposed to opening to the side). They should be done in a week and for half as much as his thieving brethren absconded with.

The packless gland is not dripping … it’s the water heater. I’m not that upset about it though, as the heater is 10 years old and one of the very few things on the boat we haven’t replaced. It’s probably been dripping since Fort Bragg and all that time I unjustly blamed the stoic and reliable packing gland. A new water heater is readily available, relatively inexpensive and in a decent enough spot to get to. It looks like it’s plug and play. I hope I haven’t just jinxed myself.

In the mean time, I’ve begun to repaint the hatches and remake the engine cover. The engine cover was pretty simple, or so I thought. A piece of half-inch plywood cut, painted and covered with polyurethane to match to the other counter tops. I found a good piece of non-warped plywood, almost the right thickness. I used the old cover as a template, made a tracing and gave it to the woodcutter to cut. He made a perfect cut … exactly 1/8” off. The engine cover is not square (imagine that!); it is a geoellipsoidal rectangle (his saw only cuts squares). Wait … Wait … for it. I took the other half of the board, made my own tracing and did my own cutting. I’m on a rolling dock, with limited hand tools and working surfaces. I made a good cut with my saw, but not perfect. It’s off by 1/32” … in the only spot it can be noticed. Too damn bad! It’s getting installed and I’ll figure out something … better … later.

The hatch painting … and preparation for painting is a miserable job. The hatches are non-anodized aluminum and need to be cleaned of all the flaking paint and the aluminum oxide. The hatches are not square, have few flat surfaces, are not detachable and have to be done in place, right over the new, white, deck paint. The aluminum, once stripped, needs to be taped off and covered with zinc chromate primer. The primer is a thick, sickly green paint (that is shockingly apparent when spilled on the white deck), and has to be stirred constantly as it tends to dry on the brush. Lastly, three to four coats of white, single- part, polyurethane paint need to be applied, over the primer. Can’t something, anything on this boat be easy!? I mortify myself and begin the job.

It goes well enough, only taking about 97 years longer than I had planned. There are many spots on the hatches that don’t lend themselves to being scrapped or sanded or even touched by the smallest implement; but you can see them just fine! Paint chips, corroded aluminum and dust is all over. I routinely sweep the mess into a tidy little pile, but a gentle sea breeze invariably scatters it about just before I get the dustpan. I put a few gouges in my new paint when the scrapper slips; Oh Darn! On the last and biggest hatch, I discovered power tools. I have a drill on-board and I have a wire wheel. Hot damn! I pulled that bad boy out, set it up and zing, I’m off to the races. I get the last hatch done in no time flat, leaving nothing but highly polished aluminum (save those nefarious spaces I heretofore mentioned) and no gouges … well a few. I started out with a pretty full wheel and wore it down to just a nub. It was dusk as I finished the hardest part. I slept that night feeling like I had accomplished something. I woke up the next morning and guess what I saw on my bright, beautiful, freshly painted, dew covered, white, deck? Rust … lots of rust … little tiny flecks of rust … rust POX! It came from that wire wheel I was so clever in using. Not only is nothing on boat not easy, now it’s destructive. I can’t hose it off because I’ve removed the hatch seals and can’t seal the hatches. I can’t wash it (with a rag) because that will just spread the problem to more spots and I can’t sweep it because the deck is soaking wet. I’m proceeding with the hatch painting and hope the rust will come off with a little wax (from a test spot it appears it will).

Hallelujah! The carpenter came and installed the cabinet doors: when he said he would and for the amount he said he would. They are stunning and match the interior cabinetry perfectly. It makes the salon bigger and warmer. The carpenter needs a little more polishing, though. He used only what was immediately available and his craftsmanship is at the construction worker level. The finish work is a little rough. He used zinc screws that were one size too big for the hinges, didn’t varnish the inside of the vents, didn’t tap the screw holes and mounted the doors offset (which he corrected when I pointed it out). He used power tools for everything. I think he may be a general carpenter as opposed to a finishing one. Still, the doors are done and look much better than what I had, and I can correct the flaws … or at least add them to the list of things to be done.

The hatches are done as well, and the rust spots came off the deck. I used foam cleaner (phosphoric and flouridic acid). With a little scrubbing, it brought the rust up and left the paint alone. The wire shavings from the wheel imbedded themselves in the non-skid, so I had to dig out many, many eyelash size pieces of wire and then try to flush them over the side. It’s raining now, so I hope this natural bath will augment the artificial baths I have given the boat over the last couple of days to rid me of the little devils, forever.

This year is over. I’m buttoning up the boat and catching a plane to see my bride and spend a belated Christmas with her.