Magisterio

Hope Road is muddy and deeply rutted from the heavy summer rains.  Our drive is laborious, our snail’s pace symbolic of the long road of transformation experienced by the families living and working at the transfer station at Magisterio, a village on the outskirts of Puerto Vallarta.

This seems an unlikely place for the new construction of a 70+ unit apartment building, an adjacent community center, classrooms, laundromat and soccer field/basketball court.  Rounding a curve in the road the project looms up, its juxtaposition as powerful as the hope of the aspiring tenants. The work accomplished by the non-profit Families at the Dump since my visit in April is amazing.  (www.familiesatthedump.com) The Foundation has worked for years to break this cycle of poverty, a testament to their constancy and dedication. Kids are sponsored in school, adults are learning new job skills, micro-loans are providing small business startups, a daycare center provides lunches, kids are engaged in art and games at the activity center, a computer classroom connects them to the world. And sometime within the next year families who have demonstrated the greatest desire to change their lives, who have applied themselves and focused their hearts and minds on a better life will leave their shanties and move into these new apartments with running water, toilets, refrigerators, cooktops, tile floors, ceiling fans, beds to sleep in, chairs to sit in, a table at which to eat, doors and windows, and walls that don’t flutter in the wind or leak during torrential downpours.

I volunteered at the community center on a hot, humid day when there was a lot to do.  Four of us spread the load.  We served lunch, a pasta salad that we scooped up and slathered on tortillas, to about 50 kids but only after inspecting the small hands of each child confirming that they had used the wash station outside the lunchroom. 

We washed dishes changing the cold, soapy water several times, re-using the plates so that everyone had a meal.  For some, it would be the only one of the day.  We spent time in the activity center making Halloween masks, with the kindergarten class learning numbers, and joined the middle school kids for belly dancing and yoga before they left for their afternoon sessions. In the coming weeks, I’ll be teaching English during the morning session. 

 

Once again, I left this amazing place awed by the strength of the human spirit and the fundamental goodness of humankind.  

Passing debris

It’s called “debris”.  The shifting winds, big swells, and torrential rains resulting from a cyclone that passes nearby but not close enough to cause real damage.  Well, its 9:00 Saturday night and we suddenly find ourselves in the debris field of a cyclone.  Its 86 degrees in the cabin; two oscillating fans blow the warm air around and trick us into thinking that we’re cool.  Heavy rain sounds like tap dancers on the cabin top; some of it bounces through the open portholes; some of it pings sideways into the cockpit.  Lightning flashes.  Thunder claps.  Wind gusts create a welcome breeze.  In the aft cabin, we hear the distinct plopping of raindrops crescendo into a rivulet, discover a leak in the hatch and place a bucket on the floor.  The stream becomes constant and quickly piles up in the bucket.  It’s a torrent outside.  I’m nervous and patrol down below for more invading rivulets.  Suddenly at 9:30, the only audible sounds are the whirling fans and occasional drips.  Outside, a fine mist hovers around the canvas.  The wash down is complete.  Depending on location, rain measurements for the 30-minute deluge are from 1-1/2 to 2 inches. 

We're back!

In early October, we arrived to the oppressive heat and humidity of Puerto Vallarta.  After crossing the border at Nogales, we bounced our way down 1,200 miles of Mexico’s finest highways. We paid $100 US in tolls for the privilege of dodging potholes and driving on narrow lanes without shoulders.  We stopped at our favorite campgrounds: San Carlos in the desert, Los Alamos in the mountains, and Mazatlan in the tropics.  All were practically deserted leaving us feeling a bit lonely and realizing that we were a couple of weeks ahead of the southerly migration.  We saw just one other RV which was northbound.    

We were relieved to find that Gitane was well-cared for during our summer absence.  Down below, the dehumidifier kept her dry, mold was non-existent, and she was free of bug infestation.  Now, the hard work begins to get her seaworthy for our second season cruising Pacific Mexico.

We work into the early afternoon when it gets too hot and humid to move and we head to the pool.  Our long work list is evaporating:  We ordered the refrigeration compressor, furled the sails, turned the dingy engine into an art project to deter banditos, added big dingy wheels for those tricky beach landings, provisioned, emptied the water tank of the vinegar and refilled it three times, changed the oil in the Yanmar, and plugged in the navigation equipment. Whew…so far so good.  

Decommissioned

For the first time in over seven years, Gitane has been decommissioned and the memories of our first year of offshore cruising are neatly bundled. 

Down below, her folded sails are stacked in their bags, reflective insulation is in all port lights and hatch covers, the watermaker is pickled, the water tank is filled with water and two gallons of vinegar, electronics are unplugged and removed, all surfaces were washed with vinegar, clothes lockers are emptied, the refrigerator is cleaned and dried out, the dehumidifier is plugged in and fans are strategically placed. Topside, sheets and halyards are stowed, all canvas has been removed, the dingy is deflated and lashed to the deck, reflective tarps are tied tightly, extra lines and fenders are in place.  She’s ready to withstand hurricane winds and the torrential rain of a summer in the tropics.

We will spend the summer months exploring the interior of northern Mexico and the western U.S. in our motorhome, “Casa del Sol”, visiting family and friends along the way.  Hiking, biking, swimming and bocce ball are on the agenda no matter where we find ourselves. 

This has been a fascinating year of discovery in the great outdoors.  Living in nature every day, enjoying new friendships, great food and the generous hospitality of the Mexican people have extraordinarily enriched our lives.  We will continue our sailing journey to southern Mexico in the Fall.  In the meantime, you can follow our land cruises on our Facebook pages:  Nancy Arnold-Hunting or Ken Hunting.

Hasta luego!

Winding Down

The winter sailing season is coming to an end.  Some boats have moved north to Mazatlan or the Sea of Cortez, others jumped off for the South Pacific, and those still in Banderas Bay are making their way into marinas for protection from summer hurricanes.

Yesterday was the last day of the fabulous Sunday Market in La Cruz. It was a sunny day with warm ocean breezes, just right for strolling around the Malecon. The crowds had dwindled, but the vendors were out in full force, offering their beautiful blankets from Oaxaca, handmade jewelry, painted plates and bowls, and delicious homemade juices, cheese, smoked fish, bread, roasted coffee, ice cream and an assortment of tempting delicacies. 

 

 

 

In the courtyard, the fish nets were gathered and the dirt swept in preparation for the band who blast out their Mexican rhythms much to the enjoyment of the crowd. Almost everyone gets in at least one dance. 

 

And oh yes, the best part was another delightful French conversation with my elderly Mexican friend, Alicia.  She comes to the market every week with her son and while he’s busy with his customers, she tells stories in elegant French about her life in France...her son says that it gets her away from the television.   

 

Another grounding, Banderas Bay

The second boat within a week went aground in Banderas Bay yesterday.  This time, it was at the La Cruz anchorage. 

The afternoon winds gusted to 20 knots and large swells rolled through, bucking and rolling the boats at anchor.  It was dusk when this Islander 28 bounced across the reef and onto the beach.  Iggy, the owner was not aboard. A swimmer struggled through the high swell to get a line to the boat while cruisers climbed on board to cleat it.  Two dinghies with anchors and line flipped in the high surf while assisting.  A half-dozen more dinghies from the anchorage lined up and pulled on the line, managing to turn the vessel into the surf before rescuers on the boat signaled to stop.  A panga with a big engine arrived and a second line was attached to it and the boat.  Within minutes, the mast snapped and fell to the beach taking part of the cabin top with it.  Daylight faded and the rescue was called off. 

In the dark of the night, flashlight beams flitted about on the boat like fireflies.  In the morning, its contents were spread about on the beach; sails, lines, hoses, a refrigerator, clothing, food.  A small camping tent was up where Iggy had spent the night.  He was selling everything that he had salvaged. 

 

A backhoe arrived and lifting its big claw into the exposed cabin of the bow it pulled the vessel up high on the beach. More gear and the engine were removed while a dump truck waited silently like a vulture.  Finally, the backhoe flung its claw into the hull, lifting the splintered pieces into the dump truck.  It took just two loads for the boat to become a memory. 

A Bad Day in Paradise

It does happen occasionally even in paradise: the universe conspires against you.  So being oblivious to their fate, a family left the anchorage on a sunny, blustery day for a delightful sail and by the time they realized that some crucial equipment was malfunctioning and that the stars were not aligned for them, they and their boat, Flying Dragon, were hard aground on the beach.

Ken and I, along with others, responded to the call for assistance Monday evening.  We worked our dingy by moonlight and flashlight handling lines between the tug and the grounded vessel.  We tested our engine’s capacity as we carried the heavy lines toward the vessel and then had to back out of the surf zone to avoid flipping.  We would tie the lines and then move out of range in case they snapped.  Our handheld radios crackled with instructions.  Patience and stamina were tried and optimism tested as lines broke throughout the night as the tug tried unsuccessfully to pull the 80,000 pound vessel off of the beach.  The tide steadily increased until 1:30 a.m. when it began to subside and the rescue was called off for the night.  It was determined that attempts would be made again at the next high tide on Tuesday at 5:00 p.m. so we motored back into the dark, quiet marina wet, tired, and disappointed. 

We walked out to the beach in the morning, were hoisted aboard Flying Dragon and began packing up EVERYTHING and off- loading it onto the beach.  The refrigerator, washing machine, batteries, the rocks and lead used for ballast, clothing, dishes, tables, dressers, pictures, lamps, books, linens, everything that had created a comfortable life afloat was piled on the beach.  Within a couple of hours, what had once been a home became a shell holding nothing but sweet memories.

A welder arrived and cut off the 5-foot rudder that was preventing the boat from pivoting.  An excavator arrived and dug around the rudder, hoisting it away from the boat.  It then removed the sand around the perimeter of the vessel. 

Pumps and generators were donated.  A large, heavy sailboat arrived with a strong windlass that was used to pull on the huge lines.  A Nordhaven arrived and was used as a tug boat.  Lines were cleated to its stern.  Cruisers and vacationers grabbed onto the lines and began pulling in unison while others pushed on the bow and the Nordhaven pulled to turn Flying Dragon into the sea. 

It was 5:00 p.m. on the high tide when she turned to the west, was pulled past the surf line to cheers, whistles and clapping and towed to a nearby marina.

It was an amazing confirmation of the fundamental goodness of humankind and the strength of community.  Boats, lines, muscle power, food, beverages, radios and many other resources were donated without hesitation.  Strangers worked long hours side by side to help others in need. 

There is no denying that the family’s financial and emotional losses.  Flying Dragon has an interesting and checkered past and the current owners worked tirelessly those days to save her.  They carried themselves with extraordinary grace under extreme pressure and the cruising community was there with them to help carry the load.