There’s a lot of romance around heading out to sea. As I stow all things little and large in what will be Far’s last evening in the US for a while, I listen to Jack Johnson cover Jimmy Buffett’s “Pirate Looks at 40” (you should probably go ahead and google that and give it a listen.) Mother, mother ocean I have heard you call I’ve wanted sail upon your waters Since I was three feet tall Cuz you’ve seen it all, you’ve seen it all
We are in the final throes of casting off lines to the US. We had long lists of small and medium things to purchase for the boat; we don’t know the availability of head gaskets, water tank gauges, or healthy snacks in Mexico. I am nervous about heading offshore. Josh, as captain, is nervous about keeping everyone relaxed and happy, as well as the function of the new fuel filter. Our crew, Chris, is only just beginning to emerge from a significant bout with Montezuma’s revenge. In this state, Chris suggested a pause. We conducted a “temperature reading.” So we sat in the cool cabin, rocking in the breeze off the fog, and each of use told the other two our: appreciations; worries and concerns; problems with solutions; new information; hopes and wishes. It was in this manner that I was not only able to release the nervous energy I carried, but also let all of my gratitude to Josh bubble out of me, for all his hard work and willingness to sail the boat the first 600 miles from Berkeley. I also learned new things about Josh I had not considered or known. For him, this trip represents a leap of faith away from a stable job and into the great blue life adventure of his dreams. I’ve watched the men who rode you Switch from sails to steam And in your belly you hold the treasures That few have ever seen Most of them are dreams, most of them are dreams
For Chris, a weathered Baja veteran, this trip represents a chance to see the peninsula from a new perspective, from the outside blue that cradles his home and 37 years of adventures.
And me? Yes I am a pirate a few hundred years too late, but I don’t think I’m arriving too late. Gotta stop wishing, gotta go fishing Down to rock bottom again With just a few friends, just a few friends It’s time to hoist the sails and trust the boat, the ocean, and ourselves. It is with great privilege that I take to the sea with my amazing partner, a new friend, and a gentle, brave dog. I return to my new home that was perhaps always my home, the desert-ocean of Baja. We leave the long list of supplies behind and place ourselves and our ship in the capable, generous, and inventive hands of Mexicans along the coast.
Over the next few weeks, I will update the blog with stories from our sail from San Diego down the Pacific Coast of Baja California and up into the Sea of Cortez on our Cal 39 in February and March. Sailing is confusing: please feel free to leave any questions.