POINT RICHMOND, Calif. - More than a decade ago, I set out to achieve three goals, not necessarily in the order listed below.
• I wanted to become comfortable speaking - and understanding others speaking - a foreign language.
• I wanted to publish a novel. (Publish, not just write)
• I wanted to learn how to play a musical instrument.
On the foreign language front, I am relatively comfortable with Spanish, though the longer I am away from living in Mexico, the weaker it gets. Still, two weeks ago I had a lively conversation - all in Spanish - with a mechanic who was fixing a dent in my Toyota Tundra.
My novels (The Fracking War, Fracking Justice and The Devil's Pipeline) are all out there circulating.
And the musical instrument? Well, after giving myself a frozen shoulder learning to play a full-size guitar, I was advised by a music pro to take up the ukulele. He said the best thing about a uke is that if you aren't that skilled on the strings, you can always just sing louder and cover up your ineptness. He was soooo right.
The ineptness is more pronounced now, largely because I have barely tuned my eight-string in the last few years.
But today I was encouraged by the video below featuring Neil Diamond. He performs a Covid-19-inspired remake of his classic "Sweet Caroline." It's great.
And given that I (and probably you) have at least several weeks more of "sheltering in place" it got me to pull my uke down off the wall. Perhaps I can come up with a few parody numbers myself. Don't look for me on Youtube anytime soon, however.
Or for a reunion tour of The Four Headlamps.
POINT RICHMOND, Calif. - Two decades ago we were getting ready to sail our 48-foot sailboat Sabbatical under the Golden Gate Bridge into the Pacific Ocean and - as Mexico-bound sailors still say - turn left.
It would be the start of a trip I had been dreaming of for years.
Sabbatical in Zihuatenejo, Mexico
Even so, for many of us heading south to Mexico as part of a race/rally called the Baja-HaHa, sponsored by San Francisco Bay's Latitude 38 sailing magazine, there was more than a touch of anxiety.
Ocean sailing, even within 10-20 miles of the coast, has plenty of potential perils. But a year or so before we turned left, Latitude 38 published a guide for people getting ready to head to Mexico. It contained a reassuring checklist for captains and their crews about how to deal with the manifold problems - large and small - they might encounter.
It advised that the first question to ask yourself in an emergency was simple:
Is your boat still floating?
It was the best - and perhaps most obvious - thing to know, miles from shore or anywhere.
From there the list branched out to things like, "Can you still steer? Can you make the boat move via sails or engine? Is the crew all healthy? Does your two-way radio still work? And so and so and so on down the list that I am sure had "do you still have beer?" somewhere towards the end.
That article full of nautical (and life) wisdom has been on my mind ever since the coronavirus pandemic started buffeting people's lives like huge waves and winds on the ocean. I tried to adapt it to the complicated situation we face. But somehow saying, "Is your house still standing?" didn't have the same cachet as "Is your boat still floating?" But then this morning, a friend from Penn Yan, New York forwarded a very to-the-point helpful piece with advice about how to reset panicky thinking as we deal with COVID-19.
You may have already seen it on Facebook or Twitter:
Good advice all around, I think.
What am I planning for today? Admiral Fox and will take a long walk with the family and Biscuit, our dog.
And we will keep the above "mindset shift" advice in mind.
SACRAMENTO, Calif., USA - Two days back in the USSA and I think I am finally rested enough to write something coherent.
You get to be the judge.
Pool and view from our condo
After Adm. Fox left Mexico in a cloud of dust (quite literally) driving from Puerto Vallarta to Sacramento, I stayed behind, wrote a little but mostly closed up the condo at Bahia del Sol, said goodbye to, well, so many Canadians that I wonder if anyone stays there in the winter.
Adm. Fox's trip went smoothly, with a stop in San Diego before landing here at Dr. Pam and Steve's house where I joined her two days ago. My flights were good, all luggage is accounted for and now civilization is being enjoyed.
You can drink water from the tap! Eat lettuce without soaking it in a disinfecting solution! And the wine not only is drinkable, it's inexpensive. At least the wine I buy and drink.
Rinse before eating, but nothing else
I do miss the sound of the ocean, replaced here by the distant thrum of the freeway. And I miss our Spanish lessons with arguably the best Spanish teacher from whom I have ever taken a class. But it's on to new adventures, including a trip to the Northwest then across the Rockies and back to New York sometime in mid-April.
Before that, I have to finish up the writing on my book The Fracking War and - perhaps equally important - find a camper or camper shell for our newly painted Toyota Tundra to make our expedition more fun.
We had the Tundra painted before Adm. Fox headed north. There were more than a few dings and scrapes from living in the village and some small truck vs. car mishaps. I will miss the cost of Mexican repairs. The body work, repainting and bumper straightening cost $546 U.S.
Time to start checking Craigslist for that camper... like the one shown below...
NUEVO VALLARTA, Nayarit, Mexico - Practically every flat surface around Nuevo Vallarta and Puerto Vallarta was plastered with a poster contained the mug of Juanes, a Latin rock star who brings in fans from all over wherever he plays. This is a holiday weekend in Mexico and his concert was part of the celebrations.
Juanes - related to Antonio Banderas?
Juanes a huge star around the world, with his Unplugged tour getting five Grammy nominations. Our amiga Laura McCartney caught his act in Madrid. Yes, the Madrid, as in Madrid, Spain.
But back to the beach here.
The concert was held in an open area next to the Hardrock Hotel (yes, it's a hotel). It was supposed to start at 8 p.m. But, being Mexico, the crowd didn't even get very restive until about 9:30 p.m. when Juanes jumped up on stage and started a rockin' show.
The security guards said they expected a paid attendance of about 5,000. It was hard for Adm. Sylvia Fox and I to get a good look at the crowd. We attended the concert sitting on the beach side (read: Free) where we were joined by about a hundred gringos and vacationing Mexicanos.
And we had our own huge Jumbotron right in front of us. (Huge Jumbotron? Is that an oxymoron?)
Here's a link to Road Trip Zumba in which Sylvia talks about Juanes and the concert. She had a great time at the concert, even doing a few Zumba steps as she listened.
At one point the staff who run the beach area where we were squatting came by and starting asking people if we were staying with them - generally being kind of obnoxious. After he hassled a couple of people (me included), a hired security guard (with a .45 caliber automatic on his hip) chatted with the staff fellow and he disappeared back into the building.
It was reminiscent of our days in San Diego when we would go by dinghy to Humphrey's By the Bay and listen to the concerts there. We heard the Righteous Brothers, Arlo Guthrie, Judy Collins - even Joan Baez, among others.
Here's a short video of some of the concert - from the beach perspective:
WATKINS GLEN, New York, USA - Adm. Fox and I pulled the Spirit of Louise pontoon boat out of the water Wednesday, a harrowing affair in 15-20 knots of crosswind at a shallow launch ramp.
But after three tries, I finally drove the boat up onto the trailer (risky business, indeed) and summer officially was over for the Valois Point Yacht Club.
Doug Hazlitt offers a Heineken salute
At Village Marina we found Eric and Tina Hazlitt just about to head out for a final summer sail and were lucky enough to jump aboard for a few hours of sailing. Eric's cousin Doug Hazlitt was out and about on his newly built sailboat and, well, of course we raced!
No need to dwell on results here, except to say it was a lot of fun in some pretty stiff breezes. It was so windy I could barely hang onto my wine glass as we tacked back and forth heading back into the dock.
We left the Spirit of Louise in the Village Marina parking lot overnight and will take the ship down to brother Dan's shop in Big Flats today where it winters under some heavy tarps.
At the helm with Tina Hazlitt tending the jib sheets
Getting the pontoon boat out of the water means it's time to get serious about packing for Mexico as well as ramping up our efforts on preparing stories and photos about our trip to Tonga and the Regatta Vava'u.
Adm. Fox set a date of Nov. 8 for us to put on a show-and-tell slide/video show at the Hector Wine Company about the trip. Gulp. Where did I put all those video chips?
And in the midst of all this, granddaughter Samantha turned 15 yesterday. Fifteen. Jaysus! Happy Birthday, Sami... We'll Skype tonight.
WATKINS GLEN, New York, USA - Admiral Fox talks about her latest leap-off-the-precipice idea in her new blog, RoadTrip Zumba (LINK:Take a Zumba trip here...). She is far more able to explain at that website exactly what she is up to.
Rolf Potts with friends
But I know this: Whenever we take trips (or plan trips), there will likely be a Zumba factor involved. And chances are good that I will be traveling along, roadie-style, with my video and still cameras in hand.
The idea sprang in part from a columnist/traveler/writer/blogger I have been following for several years named Rolf Potts: (LINK: The Rolf Potts website). He came to my attention via a student who thought what Potts did was, well, cool.
The student was right.
Potts travels with a camera man a lot of the time, filming Pott's adventures, sort of a 21st Century Boswell. Some of that film gets translated in often hilarious videos. And Potts also writes about where he has been in addition.
Can you see where this is all going?
The sign makes it official
The Admiral decided that she would launch RoadTrip Zumba this spring and summer, continuing it on in the fall. The only place I know we are going this fall (before we head to Mexico) is Nova Scotia. Do you think there is Zumba there?
Yup. It's already been checked out.
And the beaches of Nuevo Vallarta will see some Zumba this fall and winter, too.
The first RoadTrip Zumba session Monday was at the Hector Wine Company (LINK: HWC website), just up the road - with lots of smiling faces for the group shot.
When the weather gets better (read: Warmer), there is talk of Zumba on the Hazlitt's Beach.
SACRAMENTO, Calif., USA - Three weeks into the semester the end is already in sight in early December. About 100 students in my four classes are already counting the days until I stop thumping on their undergraduate heads.
So am I.
In the midst of all this, I have continued to pump out my weekly column for the Finger Lakes Times, the high point of my week, really. My column-writing students - whether they appreciate it or not - have been helping me brainstorm with column ideas. They have their own colums to write, so it only seems fair to have them help me, too.
In about a week, I will wing my way via Jet Blue to New York to attend a public hearing on a proposal to build a propane storage facility on the shores of Seneca Lake three miles from my new house in Watkins Glen. The idea is about as bright as the notion of building nuclear power plants on the shore of Japan. (Whoops! They did that, didn't they.)
I will be going as a journalist/observer but perhaps as a participant. This project is so dangerous, so out of whack with sanity with what Seneca Lake has become as a tourist destination, I might have to come out from behind my journalist's shield to speak against it. Greedy idiots don't care what damage it does, as long as their corporation makes profits for its shareholders and the officers of the corporation get their multi-million dollar bonus checks each year.
Brine pond
In addition to storing millions of gallons of propane in salt caverns (risky business at best, industry experts say) the Kansas City, Missouri company wants to build a 91-million gallon uncovered salt brine pond as part of the entire industrial project on the side of a hill, perched over the lake. Jaysus! If that salt water gets loose and lands in the lake, Watkins Glen can kiss its water supply goodbye for months - maybe more... And will it get loose? Well, in the last few weeks the area has had an earthquake and then brushed by a hurricane.
Need I say more?
After NY, it's back to the classroom until Adm. Fox and I got to Mexico for a short hiatus. She and a Seneca Lake amiga Barb Cook will be going down to help with a spay and neuter clinic. Barb and Sylvia will be doing the medical work, my job is to shoot film for a video about the experience with the working title: Salty Dogs in Mexico.
Or maybe we can just call it Woofing Below the Border.
NUEVO VALLARTA, Nayarit, Mexico - It took two days of travel, but Admiral Fox and I are safely ensconced at son Dustin's new casa, looking at the pool and plotting a day that includes a trip to the beach and a potluck dinner at the Vallarta Yacht Club.
Ah, Mexico!
Pool at Dustin's new casa in Nuevo Vallarta
The trip began with a US Airways farble at 6 a.m. A lightbulb was out over one of the emergency doors and because there was no replacement bulb in the airport, the flight was delayed until about 10 a.m.
And so that meant instead of a 6:30 a.m. flight to Phoenix, followed by a 10 a.m. flight to Vallarta and arrival at 1:30 p.m., we spent a leisurely morning in the Sacramento airport - and eventually an overnight at a Courtyard Hotel on the edge of Phoenix's Sky Harbor.
As part of this trip south, we had to purchase one additional suitcase to carry all the assorted paraphernalia, clothes, and gifts we wanted to bring. But another black suitcase seemed, well, soooooo pedestrian.
Pink suitcase ready for loading in Sacramento
And so two days before liftoff, Admiral Fox went on the search and found a shocking pink suitcase at a Marshal's store that is bright enough that you might consider wearing sunglasses when you look at it.
The suitcase did yeoman service for the entire trip, each time popping off the conveyor belt, signaling the arrival of the three checked bags.
We knew the suitcase was going to make it to Phoenix, because we saw it being loaded in Sacramento.
Today we are already set to do some serious pool time, (serious pool time?), maybe head to the beach to make sure the sand is still there, and later tonight, we will go to the Vallarta Yacht Club for a potluck dinner.
The yacht club should be humming with cruisers and folks we know from other seasons down here.
And Arroyo Seco? That's on tap for later in the week after we sort out all the details of telephones, internet modems and various other details that make life in Mexico muy divertido...
CAMP CONNELL, Calif., USA - The news from amigo Sanders Lamont this morning was that he already has 3.5 feet of snow on the ground at his house - and more falling all the time.
Welcome to the Northern California mountains, the place where surfboards are replaced by snowboards every fall about this time.
Sander's house in Camp Connell
This whopper of a winter storm dropped plenty of rain on the Sacramento Valley floor over the last few days, brought in gusty winds and generally reminded Adm. Fox and I why we head to Mexico every December.
Brrr.... Donde esta mi flip-flops?
In anticipation of that sojourn south, we spent part of Saturday at our down-sized storage unit, shifting clothes and getting ready for several upcoming trips.
But the storm also suggested that we should not try to drive up into the mountains to the town of Arnold, where a fiesta will be held Monday night for amigos Randy and Karin. They sold their mountain home and are headed to Santa Fe, New Mexico. We will also see them in Mexico this winter - they own a prime lot in Arroyo Seco, two blocks from the Pink Flamingo.
And there will not be any snow on the ground there. Dust? Of course.
California being California, the rain seems to have passed and the sun is out bright this morning, a harbinger of a sunny day perhaps. The thermometer is not having none of that, however. It seems to be stuck at just above 45 degrees Fahrenheit. Here, that seems damn cold. In Hector, New York, it would close to balmy.
Somewhere else, though (like Mexico) the surf's up and ready.
SACRAMENTO, Calif., USA - My ukulele - which hasn't had a workout in weeks - is now safely in the back of the Nissan Pathfinder being driven south by amigos Beth and Roy.
The couple stopped by last night, had dinner and spent the night, then catapulted off this morning with stops planned in Yosemite, San Francisco and many parts between here and La Manzanilla.
They are carrying my uke as well as a couple of boogie-boards given to us by Dan and Lorraine Olsen, currently cruising on their sailboat somewhere in the Caribbean.
How to get the ukulele to Mexico became a minor crisis because of my new video camera. No way that piece of electronic gear is going into checked luggage. Ditto for the ukulele. It would arrive in three pieces, maybe four.
As it is, Admiral Fox and I are heading out to storage Friday (or Saturday) to check out what we need to pack to take to Mexico. All of the relatively cold-weather clothes we are wearing now need to be packed up and boxed in favor of the shorts, T-shirts, sandals and flip-flops that are the uniform of the day in La Manzanilla and Arroyo Seco.
I can see the ocean from my window right now. Or at least I wish I could.
In searching for the photo of the uke above, I ran across this classic ukulele video - one of my favorites.
SACRAMENTO, Calif., USA - Parts of Mexico would appear to be imploding or exploding, depending on your perspective. Not a day seems to go by without a published and/or broadcast report that more bodies have been unearthed somewhere along the U.S.-Mexican border, or some travesty involving violence has happened somewhere to the south. The New York Times has been doing a credible job of reporting on all the nastiness. I'm trying to skip over some of the stories; they are too gruesome.
Even in our little corner of the Costa Alegre, south of Puerto Vallarta, a developer has grabbed arguably the most beautiful beach on the west coast of the Mexican mainland (Tenacatita) and now threatens to shoot anyone who tries to go to the beach, beaches which Mexican law proudly declares belong to the people.
People with guns, apparently.
Tenacatita Beach, May 2, 2009 - all empty now, except for guardswith guns
Still, in a little over a month, Adm. Fox and I will head south (by plane, not driving across the border this year, thank you very much) and check out how things are in Arroyo Seco, our village where serenity has reigned for the few years we've lived there in the winter.
We hope it's still serene, but given that it is only a few miles from occupied Tenacatita Beach, we are braced for some tension there, too. And the village might have some new residents, some of the 800 or so Mexicans who were booted from their homes and businesses so unceremoniously (and viciously) August 4. Most of the refugees are clustered in and around the small village of Rebalsito, a tiny town on the highway into the beach, though some of those folks have family ties to Arroyo Seco.
Earlier this year, the evicted people blocked the major north-south highway as a protest - and in since August, have been trying every legal avenue possible to get their property (most of it federally titled) back.
Protesters on the highway in August
Still, I have started to pack my new camera gear, new hats (my dermatologist has insisted), and warm-weather clothing for the Mexican winter. And, of course, presents for granddaughter Sasha Fox in Puerto Vallarta have started stacking up likes planes over Denver, around our suitcases. My greatest dilemma is how to bring down my eight-string ukulele. My new camera gear has to be hand-carried on the plane. With my other carry-on - my backpack full of important Mexico papers - I am at capacity.
But sans the uke, there would be no participating in open mic nights at the newly renovated Palapa Joe's.
SACRAMENTO, Calif., USA - I heard the catchy phrase 'Failure is not an option' first uttered by Nancy Maynard, the wife of the late newspaperman Bob Maynard, who I knew in the 1970s when he was publisher of the Oakland Tribune newspaper.
I loved the expression. I put 'Failure is not an option' right up there with 'When the going gets tough, the tough get going.'
Maynard
That little gem came from the locker room wall at Southwestern Central High School in Jamestown, New York, where my high school football coach alternately terrorized and lauded his players, depending on the rate of success. With Coach Ed Stupka, if you didn't perform beyond your abilities, you were slacking.
I slacked a lot.
But during this same period, I spent most daylight summer hours on Lake Chautauqua, skimming across the water on skis. I loved every minute of it, except that I was a very cautious water skier and took great pains to avoid falling.
A friend from those days, Bob Fulcher, wasn't just good, he was great. He would jump the wake, flying over the foaming water. He did all kinds of tricks. Sometimes he would even try to hold the rope in his teeth. Much of the time his acrobatic antics ended in wild crashing falls into the water.
And he didn't care. In fact, he seemed to revel in how spectacular a fall he had.
When I kidded him once about his frequent-faller program, he offered this nugget: If you don't fall sometimes, how are you going to learn how far you can push?
Indeed, Bob, indeed.
That sage advice - from a 15-year-old - has stuck with me all my life. I am still cautious on water skis (no doubt largely because of various back, neck and shoulder ailments in recent years). But I have learned to take chances. Sometimes they work, like jumping from being a newspaper editor to a journalism professor. Sometimes they don't, like buying property on a beach in Mexico, then having it seized by a developer at gunpoint who claims it is his.
As Frank Sinatra says when he croons, My Way, '...Regrets, I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention.'
In today's San Francisco Chronicle, there is an interesting story about a program for entrepreneurs to learn that if they want to succeed, they have to flop sometimes. Maybe flop in spectacular ways. LINK:Failure is an option
The history of innovation and great discoveries is filled with flops, in business, science, education - and sports.
But while all that is being pondered, here's a video introduction to a TV program I watched every week growing up, along with most of the nation.
It gives graphic evidence why ski jumping (in snow) has never made it on my list of things to try - at least so far.
SACRAMENTO, Calif., USA - The summer went by waaaaaaaay too fast. We arrived in the U.S. April 28, and here it is August 28. And school starts Monday.
(Where the hell are my long pants and dress shoes?)
Even though it went by too fast, it was a fabulous summer. We had three weddings (Marion and Peter, Jen and Carl, and Brett and Jesse), visits from Dan & Lorraine Olsen and son Dustin, as well as numerous trips and social forays out and about New York.
And Eric and Tina Hazlitt were kind enough to lend us a 19-foot sailboat for a few weeks while the Spirit of Louise pontoon boat was in the shop getting repaired.
It was arguably the warmest - and least rainy - summer in many years.
When our first cabin renters arrived July 1, the weather turned gorgeous and until the eve of the Peachy Dandy Party (August 13), it held steady. I swam nearly every day - sometimes two or three times. Seneca Lake warmed up to the mid 70s, warmer than anytime the year before. And even on windy days, the air temperature stayed well above 70.
But the day before the Peachy Dandy party the wind cranked up - really cranked up - and the next day the sailboat race was eventually canceled, when it was so windy many racers couldn't get their boats out of their boat lifts.
The weather never really went back to warm summer days, though I hear reports that it has warmed up again.
Despite the lack of an actual sailboat race, the Peachy Dandy Party roared on all afternoon with Admiral Fox and several of her musical colleagues providing some of the music for the afternoon.
Many Peachy Dandies were consumed and even with the wind, there were plenty of swimmers and other boating activities.
I had a Peachy or two myself, concocted by party host Tina Hazlitt just as the party got started. The reason I can't say for sure if it was one or two, is because the first one was industrial strength. Amazing how intoxicating fresh peaches can be. I should eat more fruit.
Back from swimming
Barney on the grill
The littlest Peach at the Peachy Dandy
We were successful this summer in launching (after a fashion) the Valois Point Yacht Club, in name anyway. It was sad to unbolt the bar off the dock and remove the sun shade. But it will make set up much easier next summer when we hope to install a couple of moorings for visitors so they will not need to tie directly to the dock.
We have a roster of members now - anyone who showed up by boat was granted membership as founding members: Roger & Nancy Beardslee, Ruth Bills, Brad Phillips, Barney, Marcia & Kristen Van Horn, Eric and Tina Hazlitt, and, of course, former neighbors Beth & Boomer.
I might have missed someone in that list, but I'll catch them next summer.
Stages of Internet withdrawal
The Admiral and I have moved into a very comfortable mother-in-law unit attached to the house of friends, within easy walking distance to the university.
But as part of the settling-in process, we have had to go without easy Internet access, except when sitting in our university offices. Monday afternoon we will be up and running with a rocket-fast connection, I am told. And that means our internet phone will be back on line, too.
(The exception to this, is the Admiral's new smart phone which, besides Internet access, does everything except pour her tea in the morning. And there is probably a new app for that.)
More on all that after Monday.
And by Monday or Tuesday, I might be up to writing about out legal wrangling in Mexico with a developer who took over the entire Tenacatita area. He evicted 800 Mexican citizens and has started tearing down houses, restaurants and hotels, essentially make the historically popular area a private beach. The area is protected by police and private security guards.
No rollo de mar lunches for me this winter, it seems.
If you haven't been following the saga, you can catch up with it in a blog written by the Admiral two weeks ago. Not much as changed, except for a flurry of lawsuits filed in federal court in Mexico.
VALOIS, New York, USA - After a three-day weekend that included a great beach party Friday, attending the Cardboard Boat Races (and party) Saturday, and then Jenn and Carl's wedding (and reception) Sunday afternoon and evening, I was about as hydrated as I could be, and felt great. Three parties in three days and ready for more lake fun.
Woo-hoo!
And feeling great lasted right until Wednesday morning when I woke up at 6 a.m. with a sore throat, a cough - and a head cold - one of those cement-head-type colds in which everything you see and hear seems to be going on behind a heavy gauze curtain. After talking with Hector amiga Karen Schamel, I learned that the cold was making the rounds of all of Schuyler County.
And here I thought I was patient zero.
But on this second day of the cold, I feel a little better, perhaps a combination of yesterday afternoon's boating, ample hydration, and warm sun to bake the cold out. I wish today were as warm. Maybe it will be soon.
Jenn and Carl's vows on Sunday
Entry in the cardboard boat race
Yesterday, Admiral Fox had to barrel off for appointments, leaving me (and my cement-solid head, no comments please) alone at the house for the day. After doing some dock improvements, I decided the best thing for my cold was a trip across the lake (by pontoon boat, of course) to the Showboat Restaurant and Bar, about five miles away on the east side of Seneca Lake.
The place has good docking facilities, excellent cold beer, passable hamburgers and fries, and occasionally waitresses who could be aspiring to work at a Hooters restaurant. It seemed the perfect place for a destination cruise - and to sit around for the afternoon.
Alas, when I arrived shortly after noon, ready for a beer and a burger, a 16-year-old fellow - wielding a power drill in the bar - told me that the restaurant might be opening this coming weekend. "I think they'll be open then," he said.
I think I will call ahead before taking a voyage there again.
The Showboat's outside bar - closed until further notice
It was nice to return to our dock, however, and see how my handiwork from earlier in the day looked from the water.
I added white bumper strips to the pilings so visiting boats - and the Spirit of Louise, of course - could moor without having to reach into dark boat lockers to find fenders, and then tie them on to protect the vessel. I got the idea for the strips from Eric and Tina Hazlitt's dock, though I should have spent a little more time asking around how to actually install the pieces.
(Ever dropped an electric drill into the water? How about a box of screws? A screwdriver?)
Still, Wednesday morning, even with a head that felt like it was full of slow-drying cement, I was able to install the strips and now we are ready to inaugurate the Valois Point Yacht Club.
Or at least as soon as I get the bar built on the end of the dock.
On Facebook, I put up a photo of the dock and sunshade, indicating that all I needed now was a bar - and barflies - to complete the picture. I immediately had volunteers for the barfly positions.
This should be fun...
Valois Point Yacht Club dock
From Mexico, there was some good news (even if expensive) in the last week: Our palapa's new roof is almost finished at The Pink Flamingo in Arroyo Seco.
The original roof - covered with interlocking ceramic tiles - was so heavy it was cracking the support beams and making strange creaking noises. Conventional wisdom said it would not last another rainy season. The monsoon rains can add tons of weight to the roof during downpours.
Our amigo and neighbor Chon took on the project (along with a crew of Arroyo Seco workers), stripping off the tiles and replacing them with an attractive laminate material that looks very similar, but weighs about 10 percent of the original roof.
Admiral Fox and I will sleep better knowing the palapa will still be standing when we go home to Mexico in December, even if we are many pesos poorer.
We'll drown our sorrows (about how many pesos we had to lay out) down on the dock at the VPYC - when I get the bar built ...
ARROYO SECO, Mexico, Jalisco - Living in Mexico reminds me soooo much of living on our 48-foot sailboat Sabbatical.
When things broke on the boat, you didn't call someone, you fixed it yourself. And you didn't rush off to the store to buy parts, you fabricated with whatever you had on hand.
As a sage once said:
"If all solutions are temporary,
why not use duct tape in the first place?"
The patient needing the transplant
The problem was actually quite simple. The toilet our RV (the Grey Goose Express II) wouldn't flush. Yes, the bowl would fill with water (and other substances not to be mentioned here). But a push on the pedal to flush left the bowl full.
Santa Crappo! (Quite literally)
I put off the repair for three days, blaming it on the beautiful weather and the two-days of the surfing contest at Playa Grande. The toilet sat unused inside the bathroom of the trailer, a silent reminder that I had a nasty job to do that I really wanted to avoid. As in avoid until next winter when I came back.
But this morning there was no putting it off. Getting up in the night and walking across the compound in the dark, wearing flip-flops was getting old fast for both myself and the Admiral. Especially the Admiral. (Can you say scorpion?)
The problem revealed
RV toilets are not exactly easy to work on. And because they are mostly plastic, there's no using brute force - when it seems like it would be a lot easier. So for an hour, I unscrewed and dismantled quite carefully until I had the entire assembly in pieces.
(Yes, I soaked the entire toilet in Fabuloso cleaner for about a good half-hour before I even started.)
Once apart, it was obvious - the wire to the flush pedal was broken off. And without it, no flushing was going to occur.
In the U.S., at that point, I would have probably headed down to Camperworld or some such big box store, slapped down my American Express card and bought a entire new unit, right out of the box.
But I live in Mexico and I have learned from my neighbors that you don't go to the store everytime you have a problem like this. You fix it. Great idea! But where in the ^*&%**(^&)$%#^# would I find a 18-inch piece of thin wire that could be fed through a tiny channel and tied off on both ends?
Then I heard the music on the radio.
The wire donor
Three weeks ago in Puerto Vallarta, I bought a new set of guitar strings. The old strings were tired - very tired - and needed to be replaced, our amiga Myranda told me. And so the strings were lurking in the back of my mind when I was thinking of what kind of thin wire I might have to effect a cruiser/Mexican repair.
And because I hadn't ever gotten around to actually replacing the strings, I went right to the guitar, plucked a worn out B string off, and installed it.
With luck, the B string from the guitar will now live a long life. I would prefer not to have to do that job again.
But if I do, well, I have five more strings waiting...
ARROYO SECO, Jalisco, Mexico - Holy week in Mexico (Semana Santa), and the week following, are vacation time for virtually everyone in this nation and, of course, they flock to the beach up and down the coast.
This year, the influx of people in Arroyo Seco has been less than in year's past. But still, our rancho has seen a marked increase in vacationistas, roaring motorcycles, and tents on the beach. Beer sales are brisk, too.
Several local families have opened up restaurants - just for the vacation period - and are doing a booming business in the evenings. The Admiral and I are declaring a moratorium on our cooking and are going to sample food around the village.
But today, just how much the normal routine has been disrupted hit me when the trash pickup guys didn't show up to haul off our basura... I suppose that means I may have to head off to the dump myself, or see if the composting garbage in my three garbage containers can make it another week.
Doubtful.
Vacationistas in the surf at Playa Grande
We were sitting under a palapa by the laguna, enjoying ceviche Wednesday with neighbors Chena and Chon (and their extended family) when an amigo roared up on a moto and announced that there was a school of fish off the beach. Immediately, virtually everyone piled into a pickup truck and headed out to the south beach, where a fish called a Forel (sp?) was in abundance. The group pulled in a few, and local fisherman sold what they had already caught.
We watched some fisherman launch their small boat through some impressive surf, too, reminding us of when we did the same in years past, except usually with a powerful outboard motor strapped to the back of the boat. These guys had plastic paddles and made it look easy.
I expect the featured meal at lunch (and dinner) today in the restaurants will be Forel, cooked six different ways. And it probably will be delicious.
Cleaning the Forel
Fishing off the rocks
Besides eating and chasing fish, some villagers broke out a volleyball net, putting it in place in front of our amigo Luis' restaurant on Playa Grande. (We are headed there for lunch again today, I think, provided he has shrimp as well as Forel on the menu.)
The volleyball got very spirited for about an hour and would have continued much longer except for the arrival of puesta del sol (sunset) and, perhaps even more important, a rising tide that started to edge across the sand volleyball court. Sand is one thing. Four inches of water, another.
Pink Flamingo CEO Laura Warner and surfer-dude and amigo Julien teamed up for several matches.
More games on tap for this afternoon, after lunch.
CAREYES, Jalisco, Mexico - The Admiral and I and CEO Laura succumbed to the lure of a polo match Saturday afternoon, a standard, five-chukker event held in toney Careyes, a few kilometers up the highway from Arroyo Seco.
Pip, pip and all that, you know.
It was great fun. And most of my reservations about polo being a really snooty sport evaporated quickly as the horses pounded up and down the field and the local team scored. The crowd had a lot of fun, some of it perhaps inspired by various libations imbibed to ward off dehydration. Regardless, the match was over very quickly and even included a 15-minute divot stomp in which the spectators went out on the field - with tequila shots in hand - to stomp down the grass where the horses had dug things up.
Seemed easier to stomp after a shot or two.
Among the many spectators were La Manzanilla bon vivant Jane Gorby, accompanied by her daughter Lizzie, visiting from Long Beach.
Some of the elegant spectators at the match
The polo field is immense, maybe three times the size of an American football field. And when the action was on the other side of the playing area, I wished I had brought my field glasses.
But when they came up close, they came really close and you could hear the polo ponies panting.
The riders change horses as many as five times during the whole match.
ARROYO SECO, Jalisco, Mexico - For years the beach road along Arroyo Seco's Playa Grande extended past the row of houses, crossing private land to get to a small beach area that half the village seemed to go to every weekend.
The road also gave easy access for people to drive vehicles to the lagoon, where fishing isn't just sport - it's livelihood.
And the same area has been adopted by legions of surfers, depending on the swell and wind, of course.
But Thursday morning the village woke up to find that the property owner had closed off that road by digging a trench and mounding up an impressive looking sandpile.
Roadblock from the north
The trench shows the owner is serious
For now, persons with four-wheel drive vehicles still can sneak around the end of the fence towards the beach. But if the owner fixes the barbed-wire, extended it to his property line towards the ocean, anyone driving will actually have to go down on the soft sand of the beach if they want to get to the swimming beach, the lagoon, and the beach of El Tecuan. And that sand can be very soft.
The stories as to why the owner suddenly closed the area off vary: there had been vandalism, there was criminal activity, the roadblock is a precursor to a massive development.
?Quien sabe?
In the meantime, a delegation of fisherman from Arroyo Seco have been complaining loudly to anyone who will listen in the government.
That complaining might be a little louder soon when the campers (from Guadalajara and elsewhere) begin arriving for their Semana Santa holiday and find out they can't get to the beach areas where they have been coming for years.
Watch out La Manzanilla, they might in your direction.
ARROYO SECO, Jalisco, Mexico - It rained again Wednesday. Real rain, as in slick-as-shit-road rain but the Pink Flamingo needed propane (for a new gas BBQ grill brought in last week by amigos Jim and Vicky), the gasoline supplies were low for the motorcycles and we needed some plumbing supplies to fix the geysers that have erupted in our sprinkler system.
A quick trip down the highway to the neighboring cities of Melaque and Cihuatlan solved all of those issues, though my neighbor Chon was concerned about my carrying gasoline and propane in the Toyota Tundra in one load.
Chon looked in the back of the truck and declared that with the tanks and gasoline cans, I had created una bomba. Yup, it means bomb. And even though he was concerned, he did hand me a 20-liter gasoline can to fill for him at the Pemex station.
Having transported a lot of propane and gasoline over the years for various boats, I knew enough to keep them quite separated with the propane tanks secured the cab of the truck, the gasoline (and diesel) strapped securely in the back. The propane tanks looked quite cute with their seat belts on.
No seat belts needed here
A celebratory lunch was in order after the solo voyage, and I followed the truck above into La Manzanilla, watching as the younger children leaned over the edge of the truck trying to touch the leaves on the low hanging branches of the trees.
There is a seat belt law in Mexico. The driver has to have one firmly buckled, as least on the highways and in Puerto Vallarta where the city police have discovered tagging people sans seatbelts is a good way to make some revenue.
It's the one place I buckle up all the time.
Better than watching golf. Really
At Palapa Joe's, the restaurant had a good lunch crowded packed in, with all eyes glued to the television where Olympic coverage was on from the Winter Olympics.
And while my first choice would have been downhill skiing and/or ski jumping, the women's curling events actually were far more interesting than I thought they would be. While I wolfed down a club sandwich, it was the Germans vs. the Americans and the yells and grunts from one German team member were wild.
Those Germans take their curling seriously.
Seriously.
Laura with Princess Mia at Tenacatita
Earlier this week, Admiral Fox and Laura and I did take an afternoon off to go to Tenacatita Beach for lunch and some boogie boarding and snorkeling, taking along Princess Mia (I knew Hazel wouldn't stick) for the sojourn.
We met up with friends Randy and Karin from California and also winter Tenacatita Beach denizens Mario and Sharon who were leaving the next day to return to Portland.
But the overcast socked in solid, and it was almost cold (in the low 70s, brrr... ), a big change from earlier trips this winter when we were bobbing in the surf to keep cool.
Some of the tourists even took to jogging to keep warm.
Michael J. Fitzgerald has been a journalist for five decades, working as a writer and editor for newspapers, magazines and web publications. In 2014 he published his first novel, "The Fracking War," followed in 2015 with "Fracking Justice." In 2018, he published "The Devil's Pipeline." He has written a weekly column, "Write On" for the daily 'Finger Lakes Times' newspaper in Geneva, NY for 14 years, He contributes stories to the Contra Costa Pulse newspaper in Richmond, CA. He also writes essays on Substack under the title Write On and On.
