The Unknown

Today I learned why you should always carry a knife when cruising in Mexico.

I am a very cautious man. When it comes to sailing and sailing offshore I typically double think things and ensure I as well as my boat is prepared for the next journey.  I like to research unfamiliar topics and glean advise from other possibly more experienced individuals to ensure I am as prepared as possible..  I rarely shrink back from a challenge and typically try to over achieve. .  This has been both a help and a hindrance in my life.

Before I set off from the safety of my familiar waters, I heard much talk of piracy and banditos on the Baja as well as elsewhere in Mexico. 

Today I was lucky to have been carrying my dive knife in my backpack.  I wasn't packing it out of fear of being mugged.. No, I only had it on my person because I had just came from a day of free diving and spearing fish for tonight's dinner in the crystal blue waters off an offshore reef..  

After catching enough food for 3 nights supply for Duke and I, I kicked off my flippers, pulled anchor and powered my dinghy back to the sheltered Cove where my sailboat floated lazily on her hook.  The Sun was hot today, and the warm air crystallized the salt on my skin as the chill from evaporation was replaced by the sun's heat aided by the dry air and the spead across the calm water.  I have taken to searching for reefs further from shore, pinnacles where the larger fish roam. This time just around the corner to my starboard is Santa Maria and the small shark fishermen camp where Hammerhead,  Maco are the main prey.  Those big boys are further out.   To my port is a small fishing village of Belcher Bay where they toss the byproducts into the water which according to the locals brings in Tiburon in the 5 ft range for a free dinner.  . Armed with my knife strapped to my leg, a homemade hawaiian sling and a lung full of air, I haven't had to buy meet in weeks.

As I journeyed down the coast, I waited for the water to finally warm and clear enough to hunt.  This would also mean entering another country where things are done differently from my home in Canada.  On the southern trek I passed through areas of extreme oppulance and shady neighborhoods where walking to get supplies, poor women offer favors literally for alcohol.  In these places, I didn't feel in danger or nervous but I felt sick because of how society needs the extremes to push people to the top.  The first rule of physics applies here as well.  I was warned fervently about the corruptness of the people just a few lines of latitude south.  Undaunted, I set the sails and caught a favorable breeze south in the early evening for the overnight passage to clear in.

What I have been met with since entering Mexico has been extremely friendly and helpful people.  There is the typical larceny on the beach by young men wanting money to "watch my dinghy" much like Brazil where this is done in almost every parking lot or street.  I was used to it and somewhat expected it.  But that has only occurred in Bahia Tortugas where the Baja Ha Ha and FUBAR have inadvertently taught the locals that they can expect money from sailors.  This has been isolated to this one location so far but hey man, these locals ended up being very helpful and giving, inviting us to party with them into the late of night.  And that young man did "watch the dinghies" as the rising tide almost washed away a few if it wasn't for him keeping watch and running  out there to drag them higher up the beach.  Well worth the 25 pesos.

This brings me to my bay.  I have spent over a week exploring the huge bay solo as one group of boats headed south and I waited for the rest of the group to catch up. Affording me time to really get to know the people.  I roam the sand roads, waved at by the chubby men and weathered women.  Invited to sit in the shade and engage in a match of 'decipher this sentence'.  I enjoy the interaction.  My Spanish is increasing exponentially as they laugh at my pronunciation. 

Lupas, Moy amigo.  He has found me gasolina when I was almost out, bargained with the water man to get me drinking water straight from the Desaladora Planta cistern.   Gave me two massive lobster simply because I help him with his English.   These are the people of the Baja.  These are people with very little.   Little boys with slicked over parted black hair running down the beach to help me get my dinghy in the Agua.   Beeping their horns and waving as they pull their pangas down the beach road.  They know of me as I live just out of reach in my floating home.  

Any good sailor is self sufficient. Able to find or fix their way out of any situation.  

Arriving back at the Golden Hind IV, I lifted the bucket of fish over the gunwale and spun the inflatable around for shore.  Duke has been on the water for a few hours and needs to take a break.  After landing on the remote beach and the wind picking up, I laced my arms and slid the backpack on for a quick hike.  All is great except for the wind steadily building..  There is a change in the weather coming. A front is clearly visable as the stacked clouds line across the sky.  Shirtless and in shorts, I pull the dinghy across the crushed shell beach and back into the water as duke jumps onto the bow as he has been trained to do.  Firing up the engine, and gunning it to push upwind to the boat,  I quickly sucked up a scrap of fishing net into the prop. Unable to free it by hand and being blown further down the bay, I remembered the dive knife.  I was lucky as this was the first time I packed a knife. Now my multi tool is always on my belt.  Saved me a long long paddle back home.

I know that as this adventure continues, I will pass through areas not near as trusting and safe.  But for now, I can tell you that the people of the Baja in these small, dry fishing villages are gems.  They are rough around the edges but their souls are good and I have been lucky enough to be embraced by them.