Sailing Encore

What the f***! did we do? Vernon whispers to me as he climbs into bed. I am huddled under 4 blankets in the clothes I wore all day. Wait, I did take them off to shower at the marina’s bathroom. Made the mistake of undressing before the water was warm from the shower head. Finally stepping in 7 minutes later. Almost cried uncle and headed back to the boat. So far we pretty much have just been cold. But that is what you get when it is the dead of winter, even in Mexico. 62 degrees and cloudy with showers. Just like OC back home.

We delivered the boat from Long Beach to Ensenada back in mid-December. Left our Alamitos Bay slip at noon on Saturday and sailed all night arriving at the entrance to Baja Naval boatyard at sun up. Uneventful except it was so cold. Frost warning in San Diego as we sailed past. And the winter storm that had preceded those days left choppy chaotic seas, but no wind. We motored along taking turns at helm. Vernon wishing for enough wind to raise the sails and me wishing I had put the scopolamine patch on sooner. Wore the same outfit I wore for our Maine sailing adventure: tights, jeans, foulies, scarfs, watch cap and a set of chattering teeth. It was a beautiful sunrise over the mountains and we tied up to the dock and then got into bed and slept for 3 hours. At noon I caught my first uber ride ever (taxi cost $100, uber $45) to the border with Joe. He did not speak any English so we squared away what I wanted to do with the pizza shop guy, who talked and acted like he was raised in SoCal. As Joe pulled away from the curb he did the sign of the cross and muttered a prayer. So from the back seat I said ‘Amen’. Fifteen minutes into the ride he fell asleep at the wheel and started to change lanes. Another car honked and he corrected. I quickly opened up Google translate and proceeded to ask him questions about his family (dos ninos) Where he lived (Ensenada toto mi vida) and how long he had been an uber driver (dos… ‘dos anos?’ I ask. No… Noviembre, Diciembre). When we arrive in Tijuana he somehow gets stuck in the traffic to cross in your car. We plod forward slowly for over 60 minutes and after asking several vendors how to get to the walking border, he makes the last exit and delivers me to a line that is snaking outside the building. So I inch forward in line for the next 2 ½ hours… I am texting with my daughter K and her husband Drew who left Long Beach the same time I left Ensenada thinking we would meet at the San Ysidro US side at the same time. Time passes slowly as you inch forward. Not knowing how long it would take and my phone is down to 10%. Funny how used to communicating we have become. That point alone may break me on this trip….Finally we meet up at 9 pm. We stop to have dinner at Olive Garden in San Diego (I had only one fish taco and a beer back at 11a.m. in Ensenada and was hungry!) and then get on back to Costa Mesa. Exhausted, close to one a.m., I slip into bed, only to rise at 5 to get to work to do payroll.

Work. For those of you that don’t know, I work for Hoag Hospital. Correction…worked for Hoag in Newport Beach. A senior manager in cardiology, I oversaw 6 amazing groups of people, direct manager of three of them for 6 years. After my last day I kept looking at my phone to see my email, something my workaholic personality always did even on vacation, 24/7. My Hoag account stopped updating the end of day my last day. So I deleted it from my phone… still checked every now and then though, for about a week. Still think about my teams and what Hoag finally decided to do for the org chart on my (and my immediate boss’) departure.

Anyway, back to this adventure. The Monday after Christmas Vernon and I drove down to Ensenada to move the boat from the boatyard where they had put fresh paint on the bottom and inspected the vessel for insurance to cover our trip. We watched as they reconnected the backstay, the boatyard worker precariously standing on the top step of the ladder to reach the connections. And then we motored to the Cruz Marina where we are now. Except we first tried to back into a slip that was too shallow for our 9 foot draft and got stuck aground in the muck half way into it. Thinking we could lighten the boat and slip out, we emptied the water tanks. Yes, my California water poured into the sea. We maneuvered the heavy fuel and water jugs we had brought, pulled in vain on lines in both directions and did everything but jump up and down on the bow. No luck. Vernon checked the tide tables. We had 1 ½ hours TILL low tide. So in three hours we would be stuck in the same spot and after 4 maybe float off. Okay. Go have a beer and fish taco. Then return to the boat to work on stuff to pass the time. I loaded the cart with stuff from the car and started to head down the 75 degree incline boat ramp to the docks (it is now low, low tide). I put the cart behind me thinking I can control it better but I take one step onto the steep ramp and the cart knocks into my backside and I fall ass over tea kettle bouncing and sliding down the ramp. Cart contents rolling down over me and to the bottom of the ramp. Instinctively I put out my hand to stop, managing to slide off the top layer of skin of my palm. And I used my head and hip to bounce and somehow my knee got in on the action. I lay there, assessing the damage with Vernon at the top of the ramp yelling ‘Can you get up?!’ I don’t f***ing want to. It hurts and blood is rolling down my face. Two dock workers assist me up, gather up all the loose items and put them into the paper bags only to have the handle break and the Maui teriyaki sauce in the glass jar (bad idea) break and cover everything else in the bag. After assessing myself for breaks, I limp back to the boat, holding my bleeding head. I climb on board and slip below to lick my wounds. No, I cleaned them with Hibicleanse (I am a nurse). We finally float off, move to new deeper slip and tie up. It is 5pm and we get back in the car and head toward home. Along with everyone else in Mexico it seems (it is the day after Christmas so vacations end and people head home). When we get to Tijuana we spend over 90 minutes circling to find the back of the line to cross the border. We find it about 2 miles from the normal 3-4 hour wait lanes. We sit in traffic, sometimes not moving forward for 45 minutes, finally crossing the border at 12:30 am. Exhausted and hungry (only had one beer and fish taco back at 11am… you think I would have learned from last time to travel with food and water…but no) we pull into Carl’s Jr and get French fries and cokes and head home. Once again falling into bed early morning only to get up and get to work.

I did think of one thing sitting in that line to cross. Being leery and cautious of the vendor food (just cannot see myself eating a churro stick or taco from one of the dirty carts they are pushing along all day) I think if this adventure does not work out and I need a job, I will go to Costco and buy massive quantities of bagged very American snacks like Cheetos, Doritos, and M&Ms. And a couple dozen Cokes and walk the lines of border crossing cars selling it to Americans who are in line and hungry. At a profit of course. Gringo style.