October 24th, 2011

There is a slight breeze off our starboard quarter. The day is a dismal, dreary grey. Marine overcast and fog threatens to turn into a steady drizzle. As we depart the bay we are in the midst of the largest armada I have every seen. By the time the roll call is done, over 140 boats have checked in to the 2011 Baja Ha-Ha. This is an annual sailing race/rally for cruisers, yachters, and some racers from San Diego to Cabo San Lucas. Many are relatively inexperienced and the rally is more like herding kittens out of a pile of fresh laundry. A majority are older folks that are escaping the cheerless grey weather of San Diego in the winter and heading to the proverbial land of milk and honey. There is hardly a ripple on the water at times but instead there is a glassy, almost oily looking appearance to the vast expanse. Due to the fact that there is hardly a zephyr, a rolling start is issued and we proceed to turn on our engines and head south.

The fleet begins to break up and over the course of the day our fellow sailboats grow more and more distant until they finally disappear. Land slowly slips out of sight until finally it to disappears. We are on our own. There is hardly delineation between the sky and the water. Everything is grey as the wind continues to puff and wheeze sporadically. Some might say that this sounds like the most dismal and forlorn, the most disheartening and uncomfortable, the most dejected and hapless place on the planet. It is hard to not agree. The thought that I will be on this boat for the next two years weighs heavily on my mind. I find myself not looking toward the bow but instead toward the stern. Looking at where we have just been, not where we will be going. It is hard to shake myself out of a morose, melancholy mood. And then it dawns on me, life is not all about where you have been. It is a combination of where you have been, where you are, and where you will be. The iconic three ghosts of Christmas as it were.

Just as this thought crosses my mind I see off in the distance a slight break in the clouds. Small talk breaks out amongst our lighthearted crew, the sea stories begin, and smiles appear. It may be cold, it may look dismally grey, but we all understand that unforeseen treats lie in our future. Looks return to the bow, to the lighter grey patch in our near future. Warm food is consumed and by the time we return on deck the grey patch has turned to a patch of blue sky. The sun is setting and that blue patch frames a blood-orange sky. ‘Lo and behold, one of our companion sailboats is making some easting and has come over the horizon flying a light-air spinnaker. The silhouette is framed in the sunset. It dawns on me that no matter how alone one feels, there is always a friend just over the horizon. No matter how dismal the present outlook may be, there is always a small patch to look forward to- and those small patches can turn into the most brilliant and awe-inspiring moments. No matter how good the past may seem there is no point staying fixated on the stern because you will miss what is coming at you on the bow. Live life as it is meant to be lived, a combination of fond memories of the past, appreciation of the present, and anticipation towards the future.

The beginning of our trip is going well. It is a little cold but should only remain like that for the next two days till we reach warmer water and weather. We have variable light winds so we are relegated to motoring for the time being but the wind should pick up early this coming morning on the mid-watch or mid-day tomorrow. The crew is in good spirits and the start of the Baja Ha-ha went off without any collisions, damages, accidents, or major delays. After we sailed past the Coronado Islands and the official line into Mexico, a pod of about 200 dolphins met the entire fleet of 140 sailboats and the baby dolphins and grown dolphins were all swimming around us and playing as well as on the hunt for tuna. By the time we came out of the weather shadow that those islands cause, the fleet had spread and is still rapidly dispersing. We then ate a Mike Chase culinary delight for dinner. It was actually not pasta. He started it off in style with homemade guacamole and Mexican hot dogs. A Mexican hot dog you might ask- it is a corn tortilla that is wrapped around the hot dog and then flash fried in olive oil (heart healthy). It makes a nice and crispy outside to your hotdog and then you are not stuck eating all those carbs. Joey Chestnut might have a thing or two to say about that, but these are a culinary masterpiece not meant for speed eating.

Now that we have finished eating dinner and washing up we have assigned the watch bill. It will only be three hour watches because there are 4 of us. Basically three people stand 3 hour watches and the one person that doesn’t have to stand a late night watch just has to stand the 2 dogwatches. Those are the watches right before breakfast and right after dinner. Each is only an hour long and usually other people are up on deck shooting the breeze before going to bed or starting their watch. This means that out of every 4 days, we get one night of a full 8 hours of sleep. Posh living I know. Actually I am reclined on the ships couch in a sweater, socks, and sweatpants with a cup of tea while I write this blog, it really is a nice life. Oh how nice it is to be a cruiser and not working on the traditional tall ships. They have their own upsides, adventures, challenges, quirks, and character- but nothing beats cruising for comfort. And three hour watches… a day off!!! This is unheard of! Amazing what perspective adds to one’s psyche. The sea state is roughly 3 foot rollers with a nice and even period. Very comfortable conditions to get the sea legs back slowly- much better than being thrown into a hurricane or the aftermath of one. Tonight I am standing the 9-12 watch and it is 8 so I am going to wrap up this blog and grab a quick nap before going topside. So in the words of some… good night and good luck.