After going to bed at 3am, I woke up at 7am for my 10:40 flight to DF. I had to pack and the bus to the airport was to leave at 7:50. I barely made the bus. I slept the whole way on the flight, waking up with sleep paralysis periodically and lucidly dreaming that all sorts of weird things were happening on the plane that actually weren’t.

From the airport I took the metro to the Zocolo, or main square, where I booked a room at Hostel Moneda. The metro ride was 2 pesos, less than a quarter. I was lugging my backpack, a dry bag, a computer bad and a travel guitar through all the stations. I’m going to send some stuff back home when I’m in Miami, I think. I barely made it on one train, the doors closing on my backpack. I quickly shoved the doors back open, like I’ve seen done on BART, and made it all the way inside.

At the hostel I emailed Mike, Caroline’s brother, and made arrangements to meet him at 9pm at the Sevilla metro stop, which was by his hotel. In the meantime I wandered around the Zocolo, checking out the tourist spots. I took an elevator up to the top of Torre Latinamericana and saw some outstanding views of the city. The hostel I’m staying at has free dinner, so I ate up and prepared to meet Mike.

I greeted Mike and his girlfriend, Lalune. Both parties were 15 minutes late but we all arrived at the same time. Lalune is here on business and Mike came down for vacation to visit her. Lalune said that she made plans to go to an art galley showing that her friend knew about at Restaurante del Lago in Chapultepec Park. We hoped in cab and went there. It was a swanky event and I was easily the worst dressed in my t-shirt and jeans, Mike being the second worst. I was thinking it would be more bohemian, like an SF gallery. I was wrong. It didn’t really matter because I couldn’t dress up had I known; I didn’t bring any nice clothes on this trip. There was an open bar and hour d’ouvers. And art. We stayed until about midnight and went back to their hotel. Lalune went to sleep and Mike and I looked around for a bar that was closed by then.

Today I went to the Musem of Caricature and saw some of the work of Jose Guadalupe Posada, an artist who I like, famous for his depection of bourgeois as skeletons. I also got a caricature of myself drawn. You can see it in the photos section.

At noon I met up with Mike and Lalune and we went to the Anthropology Museum in Chapultepec Park. There they had rooms full of Aztec, Mayan, and other indigenous artifacts. After a grueling three hours of museum wandering, we went to Polanco, the neighboring yuppie district, for a drink and a snack. Right now I’m in the hostel and going to meet up with Mike and Lalune again for some drinking. Tomorrow I go to Miami to meet Adam.

Since they’re both new to Playa, they’ve been pulling me out of bed in the morning to sieze the day. We’ve gone to Xpu-ha beach, Akumal beach, Dos Ojos Cenote, and Grand Cenote. The cenotes are basically underground lakes and rivers. The Yucatan Penninsula consists of limestone and there are no above ground bodies of water. I just snorkeled in the water, but I watched some scuba divers who were able to go deeper and farther into the cavern where there are no pockets of air. I regret not going to a cenote with Ali; I know he would have loved it. They surpassed my expectations.

I decided not to stay in Playa any longer and spend more time in South America before I leave for Australia. It would be foolish to go to South America without taking a look around. I looked at a bunch of different flight options. Flying from either Cancun or Mexico City to Ecuador or Colombia would cost about $500 and include different stops. Instead, I looked at various other non-stop flights, from major airports, to see if I could make my own layovers and see some places in between. I found an Aviacsa flight from Cancun to Mexico city for $61. I leave for DF (Distrito Federal, Mexico City) on Wednesday. On Friday, I fly on Mexicana for $172 to Miami. My friend Adam lives in Boca Raton so I’m excited to see him and have a free place to stay. Miami is also one of the big airport hubs of the Caribbean which enabled me to find a cheap ($302) flight to Cartagena, Colombia. Once in Cartagena, I’ll make my way by land to Guayaquil, Ecuador, where I’ll met my new captain and disembark on a trans-oceanic voyage.

I’ve been wanting to go to Mexico City for years, so I’m exited about going there. Chatting with my old roommate, Caroline, on Facebook , she told me her brother Mike is going to be there so I’m going to try and meet up with him and his girlfriend. I’m also excited to go to South America because I’ll get to cross another continent off my list, and soon another hemisphere.

Here is the profile of the next boat I’ll be sailing on. It’s a 37ft monohull. It’s going to be a lot different from Crystal Blue Persuasion, mainly because it’s a lot smaller. Gary said his boat would spoil me but I’m not going to find out for sure until I actually get there.

I asked him how, because I know there are tunnels and boats, but he said trucks. I asked him if it was mostly men and he said no, a lot of women go to. Then I asked if it was for prostitution and he said it depends. Cubans, Colombians and Venezuelans, he said, usually go into prostitution. I tried asking him what work these illegal immigrants did once they arrived and I didn’t really get an clear answer. I think it’s because that’s where his job ends. Once they’re in and they’ve paid their $3000, he’s got nothing to do with them. There’s plenty of ways to make money under the table: construction, farm labor, gardening, domestic servitude, selling drugs, prostitution. A job is the easy part, getting in—that’s the hard part.

Interestingly he said that a portion of his customers are Israli, which surprised me because I didn’t think that Isralis had a hard time entering legally.

I wanted to ask him many more questions but I didn’t want him thinking I worked for the INS. I wanted to know how big the trucks are, what kind of trucks, how often do they make the crossing, is there any relation to drug smuggling? Then I thought how interesting it would be to pay the $3000 and make the crossing myself.

He said, you know, people in the US think that the border is totally secure but it’s not, people cross it everyday.

(photo credit)

After Mahahual we drove to Tulum, the site of coastal Mayan ruins halfway to Cancun. We stayed in a hut on the beach at Papaya Playa. Tulum is the best beach I’ve encountered on my trip. The sand was very fine and white and the water calm and turquoise without any obstructions. Our second day we ran into our French friends, Sylvie and Clarisse. They just arrived from a 20+ hour bus ride from San Cristobal de las Casas. It was also the day that my old coworker, Canice arrived. He’s doing a good job of Twittering his trip and wrote upon our meeting: “I have made contact with the conaty. He is thinned, tanned and mustached. I am the exact opposite. Should be interesting.” The five of us plus another French guy the girls befriended at the hostel, Antoine, went to the beach outside our hut. We tossed the Frisbee around and played some volleyball, France versus the United States, except Canice played for France and Clarisse was on our team. Sad to say the US team lost the two games, the second one after lots of tequila and beer.

That night occured Canice’s favorite story of the trip. He was exhausted from a red-eye flight and a sleepless night in Cancun. His hut was farther back in the woods with a sand floor and large gaps between the side planks. He could hear rock iguanas and little weird mammals we think are called “despesquigles” rummaging around his hut. He was too scared to sleep and spent all night killing time on his Blackberry playing Brick Breaker and updating his friends about his dangerous predicament on Twitter. Here are a couple of his tweets from that night:

8:15pm: Played on the beach today. Then showered and got dressed in pitch black in my hut which is in the woods and crawling with animals.

8:19pm: Thank god my baby let me borrow her piggy light or I would have been doomed in the darkness. Still have sand in my butt tho.

1:14am: I can’t sleep cuz there is an animal outside my cabana

2:25am: [Canice] Feels like he is in the blair witch project right now. There is some animal outside my cabana and I can’t sleep. And I really need sleep!

2:31am: Furthermore I am jealous of the lucky souls who are sleeping right now. And NO I am not overreacting. When did I become so neurotic?

2:58am: In the next 2 hours I will either pass out from exhaustion or become brick breaker champion. Also a skeeter has breached my net. Bollix!

4:22am: …it is the mayans and I am anything but fierce. My un answerable question is this: am I just being wimpy or is this torture?

8:06am: …But It does look like I will live to fight another day. It was a lovely sunrise. Thanks for talking me down :-)

After Tulum we drove an hour to Playa del Carmen, our last stop before we had to say goodbye to Ali. Playa is the new Yucatan party city. Cancun, Canice and I decided, is for spring-breakers and families. In Playa there are more hostels, the hotels are smaller compared to the all-inclusive mega-resorts of Cancun and the city is compact and pedestrian-friendly. According to Canice, “Playa del carmen is where eurotrash meets the mexican hipster.” We ran into our French friends again and it looked as if Sylvie and Antoine had been warming up to each other. It was also Clarisse’s birthday.

I plan on laying-low in Playa del Carmen for a month and waiting for my next voyage. I will possibly rent an apartment or work at a hostel. Maybe I’ll find some freelance work to defray my spending. Mid March I will go to Ecuador and begin a sailing trip to Australia, passing through Galapagos, The Marquesas, Tahiti, Fiji and who knows where the hell else?

I finally arrived at the airport by 7 and went to the National rent-a-car. I mistakenly signed up for an extra driver and total coverage of insurance, thinking it wasn’t costly per day, especially divided by two people. When I made the reservations, the price was listed as $10 a day. The car for two weeks, with total coverage, after I upsold myself, came to about $850. I wasn’t really thinking of the total price, just the daily price, which still didn’t seem that much. I checked the car for blemishes with the attendent, where he proceeded to demonstrate that there was a spare tire. I don’t even know if I saw it though. I drove through the hotel zone looking for the International Club, which is the hostel where Ali booked our beds. I stopped in front of a gigantic hotel on the beach by the name of International Club and had my doubts that this was the place that Ali had booked. I called him up and, after some questions and answers, I discovered that he was in Downtown Cancun, on a small street, which I identified on the map. Actually getting there proved to be more difficult. I drove in circles for about an hour and stopped to ask directions twice. I’m still not used to the road sinage in Mexcio. Eventually I found it, parked, went inside and greeted my friend.

The first night we bummed around the hostel. I was anxious to hit the town but Ali was tired. We agreed to hit the strip the following night. Monday we took the ferry to Isla Mujeres. Isla Mujeres, they say, is a lot like Key West. It’s a laid back island with lots of bars, restaurants, shops and a relaxed attitude. I already liked it more than Cancun. We drifted on the beach till the sun was about to set when we decided to head home. On our way back to the ferry we were tempted by the surf and turf special of a particular restaurant and figured it would be better to eat there than back in Cancun. On the drive back from the ferry terminal in Cancun, we congratulated ourselves on being able to find our hostel with only one wrong turn.

Later in the evening, we got set to go out, taking showers and drinking beers. We took a bus to the hotel zone where we thought we’d check out the various clubs that people had reccommended to us. We settled on Daddy-Os and Daddy-Rock for $45 all-you-can drink, although we never went to Daddy-Os. The clubs were what we expected: loud music, winter-breakers and not enough women for men. Ali and I were eventually separated on the dance floor and I didn’t see him again until 5am when I returned to the hostel. I spent the whole night trying, unsuccessfully, to dance with girls. I blame the mustache for my failure.

Tuesday was the day of the tire scam. Ali criticized me for getting the full coverage on the car so we decided to take it back, opting for the cheapest plan possible. Rather than try and change our plan, we thought it would be best to just return the car and rent from another place. We found another car for $10 a day plus the minimum insurance of $10 for liability. So $20 a day in all.

Back from the airport, we lounged in our room. Ali wrote in his journal and I wrote the negative forum post on TripAdvisor. There were two new boarders in our six-bed room: 2 French girls from the Basque region, Sylvie and Clarisse. Sylvie was a self-proclaimed seasoned backpacker and spoke French, Spanish and English. Clarisse only knew French and not much of the other stuff. We went out and got some food with them and another guy in our hostel. Ali and I were content with the first restaurant we passed by but the others were looking for something more “authentic.” Ryan, the other guy, wanted fajitas with bell peppers. I told him I thought that fajitas were like burritos, Mexican-American food not common in Mexico expect for the American joints. After looking at 6 different menus, we found an acceptable restaurant with fajitas.

The next day Ali and I planned on driving to the ruins at Chitzen-Itza and since the French girls were going there too, we offered them a ride. Not less than ten minutes after leaving the hostel I was pulled over by a motorcycle cop for speeding. I think I was going 90 km/hr in a 70 zone. With some Spanish help from Sylvie, we got off the hook with a $40 bribe.

Chitzen-Itza was the same as I remembered it from 10 years ago, only it had way more vendors hawking curios. They kept saying “one dollar, one dollar” for something that was obviously not a dollar. When I inquired further, they said it was a dollar to look. The main difference I noticed from my last visit was that climbing the pyramid was no longer permitted. It made me glad I got to do it ten years ago. Since my last visit it has been declared a UN World Heritage site. I prefered the Uxmal ruins, which we visited later, for many reasons. At Uxmal, we were able to climb the pyramids and there were far less tourists and vendors.

After Chitzen-Itza, we drove to Merida, the capital of the Yucatan state. It’s an old-style Mexican town without much tourist influence. The tourists that Merida did have sought more from the Yucatan than the resort hotels and the obligitory bus ride to Chitzen-Itza. Ali and I wanted to stay at hostel El Jardin, which was only 4 blocks from the Zocalo, or town square. That was too far for the French girls and we walked with them to 5 different hotels waiting for Sylvie to make up her mind. When we finally got to El Jardin, they decided the extra $2 to stay there was too expensive and went back to one of the other hotels we looked at. We went back to the car with them to give them their backpacks and made arrangements to meet them outside their hotel for dinner in an hour. We were 10 minutes late and also realized that we didn’t know which hotel they finally decided on, so we never saw them again.

We loitered in Merida the next day, doing nothing. The sky was overcast and rainy so we didn’t feel like going anywhere. In the afternoon, we went looking for little propane bottles to take back to the boat in Mahahual. We did the Home Depot, Sam’s Club and Wal Mart trifecta. The closest thing we found were large and empty propane bottles used for BBQs. Navegating the foreign streets at night in the rain exhausted both of us and we turned in early that night.

Wednesday morning we left for Mahahual via the ruins of Uxmal. We didn’t make it all the way before the sun set and decided to get a hotel for the night in a town whose name we’re still not quite sure of. We could have made it during the night but everyone I’ve talked to says don’t drive in Mexico at night. We still had to drive a little bit in the dark, though. We mad it to Mahahual by 3pm the next day, with an empty tank of gas.

This happened to us too. It’s a total scam.

I got a car from National in Cancun for two days. January 11th and January 12th, 2009. I was going to have it longer but decided I would save the money and just bus it.

When I returned the car, surprise, surprise, no spare tire! Although the jack was still there, and there was no forced entry. Who steals a spare tire out of a trunk? And magically without making a mark. And leaves the stereo and everything else.

Everything became clear. When I picked up the car, the attendant pointed out that there was a spare tire and jack, he even showed me, which I thought was a little odd. I didn’t get a good look at it because I wasn’t planning on getting scammed. I can’t even say for certain if it was in there to begin with.

I started to raise my voice and tried to reason with them. I said how could this have happened without there being a mark? Someone must have had a key. Does this happen a lot of Cancun? Are there spare tire thieves preying on rental cars at National? I plumb accused them of robbing me. I said I wasn’t paying and I wasn’t going to sign the receipt. Later I realized that I already signed two credit card receipts when I picked it up. I’m going to try and cancel it with my credit card company. They charged me 2700 pesos, that’s nearly $200 for a spare tire. I mistakenly bought the full coverage insurance and thought if I crashed the car, I wouldn’t have to pay anything.

Their reactions sealed their guilt. They were not moved by my reasoning or anger. If it had been stolen, you would think they would have been sympathetic or surprised. They bowed their heads in shame and maintained their well-practiced stone-like posture. Eventually, all they rebutted with was, “you were responsible for the tire.” Not, “Don’t accuse us” or “we didn’t do it” or “this thing happens all the time” or “I’m sorry for your misfortune.” At least they could have faked it. They just kept saying, “you were responsible for the tire.” It’s not there and you have to pay us.

I’m sure they took it out after they showed it to me when I went in to sign the papers. These missing spare tires can’t be a coincidence.

The next day, Wednesday, turned out to be prosperous as well. Tequila Beach had 25 people lined up for the cheaper, $20 snorkeling trip. Normally they do these on their own, with their pontoon boat, but 25 was more then they could handle at one time, without going twice—which there wasn’t enough time for—so they asked Gary if he could take the party. Five people ended up changing their minds so we took out 20 people on Crystal Blue, with a guide from Tequila Beach, and we used their snorkeling equipment. This party was composed of some Americans and Brazilians. This time Tequila Beach took 50% because of their guide and equipment. It was what Gary expected, so he wasn’t disappointed.

We motored a mile or so South, to some random spot on the reef. It was very shallow and I stood lookout on the bow to make sure we didn’t run aground. Although, I wasn’t much help. In the clear water, 20 feet deep looks shallow to me. It’s also hard to communicate where to go. I was looking immediately in front of us, not bothering with anything too far away. I could have sworn we were going to hit several times, but we never did. Alex, the tour guide, didn’t seem to be worried. We managed to make it inside the reef unscathed and dropped the anchor. We distributed all the fins and masks, lowered the steps on the bow and let the passengers loose. Although it turned out to be not so great of a spot, everyone was impressed. It’s funny, the reef wasn’t any different than the one in front of the town and all we did was take them a mile away but the psychology of paying for something and being taken to a different, lesser populated spot makes the snorkeling seem better. I guess they got a boat ride out of the deal. The way back was even more treacherous. Larry and I were up front keeping watch and sometimes we were even pointing to go in different directions. A couple of times we straddled some shallow rocks and once I felt a faint scrape on the bottom of the starboard keel. I attribute our traversal of the reef to dumb luck. Things will get better once Gary memorizes and marks some spots.

There were so many people in Mahahual on Wednesday because there were two cruise ships in town. Walking up and down the malecon, I noticed a couple of hippies, complete with tie die shirts, scraggly beards and hemp necklaces. I thought to myself, “That’s odd. I didn’t really thing that cruises were a hippie’s bag.” Maybe their parents took them? Later I found that one of the cruise ships was Jamcruise, a jam-band music festival on water with the usual lineup of Les Claypool; Galactic, Medeski, Martin & Wood; Michael Franti; etc. I even knew an old coworker was on the ship from her Facebook status messages about being on Jamcruise, but I never saw her.

There’s been one more cruise ship (today) since Wednesday, but it didn’t result in any trips. It was rumoured to be a “bad ship,” meaning tight-wad old folks. I printed up a couple of flyers yesterday to be proactive about getting some buisness, and I handed them out today but no one was interested. The rumour was correct. Not that many passengers came into town and the ones that did were content to simply stroll and buy some craftwork.

We’ve been making friends with all the locals. I know everyone in town now. We’re buddies with a few of the waiters from Tequila Beach, since we’re now a part of their family. We even partake in the employee dinner after all the ships leave. I help one of the waiters, Rudy, with his English and he helps me with my Spanish. I’d say we’re both 3/4 intelligible in our foreign tounges. I downloaded a Spanish-English dictionary for my iPhone and use it to look up words I don’t know. It’s the first iPhone app that I’ve paid for, and worth it, I think. I read reviews and the free ones aren’t that great, some of which you need an Internet connection for. This one works without being connected.

On Sunday I’m taking a bus to Cancun to meet up with Ali. I’ll be missing out on a good will sailing trip that Gary’s doing for all the locals here. But I’m going to bring Ali back here for a sail eventually. I’m thinking about getting scuba certified here, too. There’s an instructor who’s open to trade so maybe I can make him a website.

On New Years Eve I went to a party on the beach, surrounded by jungle, just north of the lighthouse. It didn’t get going until after midnight. There was no count down, just a bunch of shouts when the clock struck 12. The crowd was mostly the ex-pat locals. There were Canadians, Germans, Italians, Austrians, Mexicans and Mayans. I took a nap beforehand, from 6 to 8, so I could last longer. When I awoke Gary and Larry already turned in for the night. At 1 I called my friends in the States to wish them a happy New Years. I went home at 4.

The next morning, someone dropped by the pier and told us that the immigration official was in town, at the port captain’s office. When we went there, the port captain told us he was upstairs celebrating his birthday. Upstairs, Gary and I found him drinking whiskey with some friends. We filled out a form and got our passports stamped. The immigration official offered us some whiskey and we accepted. Keep in mind this happened before noon, but on New Years Day (and your birthday), I think it’s acceptable to drink before noon. He asked for a tip we each shelled out $10.

One day we scouted out a potential snorkeling area for Crystal Blue Persuasion, in another boat. There’s a reef all along the beach and there are only a few poorly marked entrances. It’s especially dangerous for a catamaran to enter because of how wide they are. Crystal Blue Persuasion still hasn’t left the dock since we first tied up.

As per the business, things are moving slowly. The doctor, owner of the pier and business Tequila Beach, where the pier is, was very excited at the sight of our boat. It’s definitely the sexiest boat for miles. Lots of the cruise ship passengers stop by and ask if it’s one of the excursions. We’ve had to disappoint them. Gary showed one couple the boat as a photo-op. We’ve been saying we need photos of girls in bikinis on the boat for the website and brochures, as if that’s what you’ll find if you come sailing with us. Anyway, this girl was the perfect model so Gary took some photos (see above). I was unfortunately absent, probably plugged into my computer somewhere. Given the interest in Crystal Blue Persuasion, I think that the doctor and his lackeys might be giving Gary the run-around. They say they’re waiting for brochures, but you don’t need a brochure to sell a ticket when you’ve got customers knocking down your door. The thing is, they have other, smaller, crappier, non-sail boats that they take people out in. In the meantime I’m trying to spread the word and find customers independently so Gary and Larry can get a little cash and then people could see the boat in glorious action, creating more demand and buzz. But it’s a delicate situation because Gary hasn’t officially incorporated yet and if the we get kicked off of the dock, there’s really no place to dock that would be convenient and lucrative. I figure as long as he shares the profits, the doctor won’t really mind. I think Gary should just start going out to spur the doctor into action.

A couple times I went fishing off the pier with a little hand line. At first I was using hot dogs as bait and caught 6 little guys that were barely worth eating. Later, after learning some from the other fishermen, I started using sardines as bait with bigger hooks. I haven’t caught as many this way but I caught one sizable pargo. I think it’s called a snapper in English.

I’ve been sending out inquiries about my next voyage, to the South Pacific, and I’ve got one solid lead. Arnold, of Monet, has more or less accepted me but he’s just waiting to hear from Gary as a reference. Here’s his latest email below:

My german friends leave Monet in Galapagos. From Galapagos you are the only crew member and the first stop will be at Fatu Hiva, Marquesas, these are about 3000 nm, the next stop is Nuku Hiva the main iland of Marquesas Ilands, where we pick up a friend of mine, Guenter from Germany. I intend to stay a couple of days in this reagion. Then we cross the Tuamotus atoll ilands to Papete; if the weather is moderate I intend to go into Rangiroa atoll.

After a couple of days in Tahiti turn to Moorea and then Rangiroa where Monet comes on the hard for the next months!

I wanted to go all the way to Australia, but maybe I can find a boat going there in Tahiti.

Last night I met a drunk Mexican who’d lived in the Mission neighborhood of San Francisco for eleven years. 24th and Mission to be precise. There’s still some seedy blocks nowadays but I’m sure it was a lot worse back in his day, not as many hipsters and trendy restaurants. I rattled off all the Mexican places l knew like Taqueria El Farolito, Taqueria Cancun, Tin Tan, Pancho Villa and, of course, the tranny bar that I used to live behind, Esta Noche. He smiled in reminiscence. It’s refreshing when you meet someone who knows the area you’re from when you’re traveling. The bartender, Servantes, gave me tips on where to go in Cancun, since he’d lived there his whole life. In fact, he gave me some free drink tickets for a bar called Daddy-Os.

I’m now working on a website for Crystal Blue Persuasion. Here’s a map of Mahahaul that I made from a photo I took of a map posted on the boardwalk or malecon.

With only three people for crew, it meant we each had an average of eight hours at the helm. Eight hours, I thought, it seemed kind of like a JOB. The time went by pleasantly, however, almost better than if we had four people. The more people there are, the more idle time there is and more room for animosity over who does what and for how long. After sleeping and steering, there wasn’t much time left to oneself. Heavier wind conditions works on your nerves too, making everything from walking, using the head, and cooking a trifle more difficult than when you’re just drifting.

Christmas day passed with no idication. No tree, no lights, no carols, no fruitcake, not even a “Merry Christmas,” as the other crew mates are Jehovah’s Witnesses and don’t celebrate any holiday. I still find it difficult to obtain the full Christmas effect in the tropics anyways. I got a few text messages and calls when I checked my phone on shore.

Mahahual is the final destination for Crystal Blue Persuasion. I realize that I haven’t much talked about the purpose of this voyage, because for me, it serves no purpose other than adventure, but, while that may be true for Gary and Larry, it is much, much more to them. It is their final financial hope in these times of economic despair. I didn’t much pry into their past (but I listened when Lynne did) and the story of Crystal Blue Persuasion slowly developed over the two months I spent aboard her.

Crystal Blue Persuasion was built eight years ago in Coos Bay, Oregon by Larry from a custom design of John Marples. When all was said and done, she cost roughly a million dollars, although, much like the homes in California, I don’t think she could be sold for that. So her only value lies not in her resale value, but in her usage. She was intended to be chartered for day trips as one of the daytime activities that those behemoth cruise ships offer when they unleash three thousand tourists on a particular shore in the Yuctan for the day. Larry originally intended on working her in Playa del Carmen, but the market is so controlled by the locals that the businessmen required 50% of the ticket price (not the profit) from each person on the boat. Later, they found out about Mahahaul and fell in love.

After she was built, Crystal Blue was “in mothballs” for eight years, as Larry likes to say. She just sat. Gary said he went up to Oregon and sailed her once or twice but that was it. Due to some tragic circumstances, Larry fell into depression and both his and Gary’s contracting businesses were not equipped to compete with the industry’s transition to cheap and/or illegal immigrant labor. Finally, it was decided that they finish what they started and put Crystal Blue Persuasion to work and start making some money. They also took me on, not only as help, but in an effort to subsidize the journey. This voyage has done wonders for Larry’s depression, too; he’s lost a lot of weight and every day I see him do something more physical and I can’t believe this is the same Larry that I started on the voyage with.

If you look at the route, you will see that Mahahaul is just north of Belize. When there is not a cruise ship in port, which is usually for one or two days a week, the town is a little sleepy but with sure signs of growth and economic prosperity. The water is crystal blue, the wind always blows, and there is an offshore reef that calms the waves before they reach the beach. It was probably what Cancun or Playa del Carmen once were before they were developed. It’s the next “off the beaten path” locale waiting to beaten, with investors, foreign and local, standing by, betting on it. Perhaps it is too late; the begining of the end of its tranquility is nigh: they’re building a Hard Rock Cafe.

From here I need to make a plan. I have several ideas and one definite one. I’m going to meet my friend, Ali, in Cancun on January 11th and meander around Mexico for ten or so days with him. After that? Before that? I’ve been thinking about visiting Havana. Maybe go up to Florida to visit my friend Adam. I’ve always wanted to go to Carnival in Rio and that’s approaching soon. That would require a flight. Ultimately, I need to find another boat. Preferably one to cruise around the Caribbean durring the winter and one that leaves for Southeast Asia come spring. I have a Hawaiian Airlines ticket I need to use by November, which could be my ticket home.

There’s no real physical networking between skippers and crew here, being as we’re the only foreign boat in Mahahual. Maybe I’ll find some in Cancun. Otherwise, I’ll have to scour the Internet in seach of a new skipper. The process is tedious with a low success ratio. It’s quite similar to searching for a job. But, as with everything on the Internet, the advantage is in numbers. I’ll be reaching out to as many boats as I can.

At the Guatemalan border, the coast juts west towards the Gulf of Fonseca, the intersection of El Salvador, Honduras and Nicaragua. Here we decided to make a rhumb line to Costa Rica, putting us at a distance of 80 miles offshore at the maximum. In the middle of the Gulf, Lynne read in one of the guidebooks about another area of high winds approaching Costa Rica, outside the Gulf of Papagayo and on our planned route. As if jinxed, that night, an hour or two after the discovery and before sundown, the heavy winds arrived. Crystal Blue Persuasion was booking it on a nice beam reach as the winds were coming offshore. The sea was getting rough too, jostling our catamaran. Gary made the decision to put two reefs in the main sail and replace the jib with a smaller stormsail jib. Even after the sail change, we were still doing 8 to 10 knots, but in a better controlled fashion. Larry estimated the winds to be 35 knots; I don’t have enough experience to judge the speed. It was like this all night but subsided the next day, returning again, the next night. We altered our course to go closer to shore in hopes that the wind would be calmer, and we eventually made it, just south of the Gulf of Papagayo. The winds died and we cruised along the coast to Puntarenas. Other than the fact that it takes more energy, atttention and nerve in high winds, I didn’t mind them. For my preference, we’ve been lacking in wind the whole trip. Also, being in a catamaran, it’s not as rocky as a monohull.

The fish bite was bountiful this whole leg. We cast our lines and trolled, every so often catching a fish. Once morning we caught two mackerels at the same time, one on each pole. This has been my favorite tasting fish yet, consisting of soft white meat. Then we caught 6 skipjack tuna and threw one back because we were accumulating more fish than we could eat. One morning I got a bite before I was even done tightening the reel and setting the pole. The last fish I caught, the one in the photo, I think is a Pacific crevalle jack. Its meat was a deep red, like the skipjack. I’ve learned to gut and filet the fish, which is quite easy. If there’s any argument for intelligent design, a fish is the perfect example for me; it’s nearly all meat, conveniently steak-sized and delicious. Although, if I were designing them, I’d make them easier to catch.

I finished Two Years Before the Mast and wanted to include a couple interesting quotes about California on the dawn of its widespread settlement. But I have to go, so it will have to wait till the next post.