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Sampaguita sits in slip L09 at Marina CostaBaja situated at the entrance of La Paz channel. It’s a nice marina. Nicer than we need, but under the circumstances, the only place we could get a reservation. I was in Bahia De Los Muertos trying to solve my solar panel issues, establish a place to receive packages, and have a place I could be grounded to take care of logistics, clean, and reorganize the boat. I only had Restaurant 1535’s internet available for communication as my Google Fi cell phone had no reception, with no real local knowledge of La Paz. My marina inquiries either fell on deaf ears, had broken websites or emails, or had no available space. Marina CostaBaja was the only place that offered anything. Having caught wind from other cruisers of the difficulties, and marinas preferred longer-term stays, I threw out a two-month window of January and February. They responded, saying they could only offer a right-sized space from January 13^th through the 26^th. I’ll take it! Then came the challenges of reserving the slip, emailing the digital pile of required paperwork, and electronically signing the contracts. Our email thread was something like 26 messages long. But we did it, thanks to an incredibly patient and unbreakable young office staff. Luckily, we’re in Mexico and they do not have high technology expectations, so photos of documents and a super-janky, finger drawn signatures on an unfillable PDF with none of the details included were sufficient. I pay about $46 per day, which is close to $2 per foot. I am the only sailboat in a 30-foot slip, the smallest available (and by the looks of it, the only available) in a row of small power boats. All marinas in Mexico in La Paz are tourist marinas full of gringo boats. So, you pay first-world-and-above pricing, but they are very accommodating. Granted, plumbing is still Mexican, meaning you still have to throw your toilet paper in the waste basket, but there are free showers with hot water (I’d forgotten what both of those things were), there is potable water available at the dock for $.07 per gallon, metered electric hook-up (which I have yet to use), and black water pump-out (also which I don’t need.) The marina is very isolated though. I am surrounded by restaurants, all American priced, which is to say, I steer clear. The mini-market is also over-priced. It’s set up for affluent cruisers and ex-pat locals. There are hotel complexes adjacent to the marina I have access to, some for free, some for a fee, but you can’t really walk anywhere beyond the compound. I say compound because that is what it feels like. If you are on holiday with plenty of money at your disposal, you have everything you need for a luxury time. And then there is me, a dirtbag sailor on his tiny boat (luckily, she puts up a good appearance) getting my ducks in a row. There is fencing and a security gate for going in and out. They do offer a free shuttle to downtown La Paz which I have used a couple times for grocery shopping, but you only have a couple times per day to catch it. I misinterpreted the schedule and had to catch a taxi back the other day. In hindsight I saw my error.

My taxi cab ride was anything but luxury. Luckily the shuttle pick-up/drop-off downtown was in a fairly touristy spot so a taxi line was close by. I did the proper thing of asking how much it would cost before I got in. $150 pesos. Great, I’ll take it. The car was painted like a local taxi cab. It was an old-model Nissan Sentra type car. The driver spoke no English. The suspension was completely shot and the smell of gasoline was intoxicating. The driver must be completely high from it. And we actually stopped for fuel on the way. None of the gauges on the dashboard worked. He actually shut the car down going through the compound security and tried to then pop-start it when continuing. It was a manual. My older readers still know what a manual transmission is. (I sold my manual transmission Subaru, the day I left Port Townsend.) Upon arrival, all I had was a 200-peso bill. I was not prepared for a taxi ride and this was actually the first of my whole trip. He tried to communicate he had no change and the fee was only 150, which may have been a BS, but maybe not considering the piece of junk he was driving, so he got the whole 200, which from an American point of view was still a bargain for a taxi ride of that distance. I didn’t stress over it. I had bought some beer, Magna Carta, the cheapest beer in Mexico, and some pork chops, the cheapest real meat you can buy, and a couple days’ worth of produce, (without refrigeration, few things last) and I was happy to have gotten back to the boat easily enough after making my scheduling mistake. It is what it is. I’ll make up for it with some other economy efficiency. I’m good at that kind of sacrifice.

The produce looks fine in the store, but get it on the boat and it quickly goes off. Carrots go limp within two days, avocados go off in a few days. Tomatoes and peppers too. Cucumbers last a little longer and so do apples and onions. I’m time-testing keeping the yams and the potatoes in the storage lockers, but in the hanging net, only a couple days. Food is a bit pricey here with none of the economy of scale like the US. I have had to rethink my entire approach to provisioning and tastes. I found a produce market I like. I pass by it on my way to the Grocery, noting prices, and hit it on the way back for the things it wins at. My last clerk there was a lot of fun. And she offered me a special on avocados. Three large ones for 20 pesos. Yes, I said. I was worried they would be off, but they were perfect. A lot of guacamole gets made.

I meet few white people I enjoy talking to. Most are so full of themselves and come from a culture of excess and entitlement. You notice it less when that’s what you are immersed in, but spend an appreciable amount of time trying to avoid it, and you begin to take more note. In the marina, I speak mostly to the Mexican captain’s hired to drive and maintain the gringo boats, and the security and maintenance staff. If you get them off the posturing, they are down to earth and interesting people and fun to try to communicate with. The guy taking out the trash might turn out to be a geologist.

I’ve listened to the La Paz cruiser’s morning VHF net exactly once. There is so much hype about it, the reality was a disappointment. Club Cruceros based at Marina De La Paz is a community and vital spot. However, again, a disappointment. (I know, I am terribly difficult to please. Classic single-hander.) The vibe is either a passer through like myself, desperately trying to get information or services, or elderly retired people playing “living on a boat” in an unregulated and less-expensive “exotic” environment. But never going anywhere. It serves a purpose, but I find it a bit depressing. I suspect the anchorage is also full of people who have been leaving for the Marquesas for years.

Here’s a couple wanker situations I’ve had to contend with. On my “newbie” arrival to La Paz, I wanted to anchor near the dinghy dock because my dinghy is motorless. Distance and sea-state might be challenging. There is limited space there, so I anchored on the fringe. A so-called “Los Cruceros representative” approached me and explained that while the anchorage is unmarked, I was in a restricted area. The Mexican Navy beelines their boats to the nearby channel marker when on rescue missions and that I was in that path. OK, I said, wanting no trouble and still learning the ropes. He explained I might fit a little over yonder and not to worry about that floating fender, it was attached to an abandoned fisherman’s anchor. And pre-faced it with the adage “You should never trust a cruiser.” OK, I said. I moved and after a couple re-anchors found the sweet spot clear of the fender and the neighboring boats. It’s the “La Paz Waltz” you really need to account for. I was fine for about 11 days. 11 days gains a lot of local knowledge in La Paz. First, I’d learned the “representative” had been there for nine years. One of those. And really, he wasn’t looking out for me, but looking out for himself and the Club. The Club, while a mainstay, really has no authority and could lose their “status” at any time. In classic Mexican fashion, there are no rules, or at least none advertised, and there is no enforcement, until maybe there might be. While I could see the Mexican Navy dock and boats, I never saw any interaction with them and any cruising boats.

On day 11, I heard an engine and a familiar voice outside Sampaguita. I look out to sea a 40-foot ketch picking up the fender mooring I had previously mentioned, completely ignoring the fact that we would definitely be too close to each other. The voice was familiar because I recognized it from Club Cruceros. A guy that talks too much and who I instantly labeled a wanker. I think I was right. Here is why. I explained in a very concerned fashion that we would be too close and he said yes. His explanation was that he had just bought this mooring and proceeded with his business. Naturally, I am perturbed but have realized my only option was to move. So, I did. First, I will say, I took a chance, though misinformed by the “representative,” by anchoring near the fender. I accept that was on me. What makes this guy a wanker is three-fold. First, he said he was sorry, which wasn’t true at all. He obviously was not. I find people who say that casually without meaning it are insincere and impolite, and a lower level of human. Second, he never came up to me and said, “You may not like this, but I bought this mooring. I am going to move my boat here regardless. I’m informing you so you have time to move, so that neither of our boats will get wrecked, because they clearly will when the waltz begins.” Third, he did it just before dusk, which limited my options for finding a new anchor spot. So that guy on Nashira with the crooked and forward raked mainmast will never get any respect from me. The “representative” couldn’t do anything about it either, of course, so he has lost all credibility with me. Self-appointed, but of no one you actually need to listen to. I found a spot after a few tries nearby, settling in just before dark. A concerned neighbor (for himself) came by, and also the “representative,” and I said I would be on the boat during tomorrow’s wind and keep an eye on it during the waltz, and would be leaving in a couple days. I always expect too much from people. It’s each yatista for themselves, the community is not very “deep,” and do what’s best for yourself. Everyone else will.

Now, the good people. I have met a few couples along the way who are not wankers. With the exception of Mundial from before, they are all veteran cruisers. They’ve been at this for decades. They know what’s up. There is the Austrian couple on Nomad who I bought the dinghy from. There is the French couple on Opale who I first met in the Northwest Passage. And there is a Canadian couple on Tillicum I met here in Marina CostaBaja. These folks recognize what I am doing, and that it takes heart, and that I am committed to it. This sets me apart from the others. They know the difference. They all are truly interested in my journey and success. These folks are also easy for me to spot too. The diamonds in the rough. If you know what to look for in their speech, actions, and demeanor, you can tell. These are the people who keep me connected to the community, otherwise I would disassociate myself altogether, or simply try to extract my needs from it. Like a wanker. I guess a point that I am trying to make, is the fraternity of cruisers as seen from the outside is BS. Cruisers don’t share any common bond. It’s like bikes and cars. Just because two people ride bikes, doesn’t mean they share anything in common. You don’t say to somebody “You drive a car, Wow, me too, we must be alike.” The same goes for boats.

On a totally different note. Speedy Gonzales was one of my favorite Looney Tunes characters. He has fallen by the wayside, assumingly because of the Mexican stereotyping. His character is so rare now, it took me weeks to remember his name. What brought him to mind was the fisherman on the west coast of Baja. Since it is so rural, and there is no Mexican Coast Guard (only the Navy), the seas are ruled by the fisherman. Listen to the VHF and that is almost exclusively who you hear. They converse on channel 16 often. Unlike in the US, there is no authority constantly telling everyone to keep the channel clear for emergencies. And it is not uncommon that they are screwing around and bantering in an animated fashion, and sounding a lot like Speedy Gonzales. I kid you not. Not everyone, mind you, but often enough to represent his stereotype. If it weren’t so, it wouldn’t have come to mind. It also reminded me of the Looney Tune drinking glasses my family had in the 70’s. I was very young, but I think they came from McDonald’s. This was when they made glasses that lasted. We had them a long time because they were so thick and difficult to break. I miss that kind of quality. And you didn’t have to overpay for it. In our infinite wisdom and capitalism, items are cheaply made and disposable, or impracticably expensive.  The faster it breaks, the more you buy. If it lasts, you better charge a lot for it because you won’t get the repeat business. Sound business models? Or use less material to be more environmentally friendly. But then make twice as much? I have some clothespins that fall apart so easily. Nothing like the clothespins the family had growing up. Those things actually worked and lasted forever. Now, in an effort to use less wood and metal for the spring, they are hardly functional. Add water to the clothes and they hardly stand a chance. Maybe clotheslines are a thing of the past? Being at sea, I didn’t want the plastic ones. So, I bought the useless ones instead. Sucker.

A word to the wise. If you want to go cruising, do it now. The world is changing rapidly and it will get both easier and more expensive. Here is what I mean. The Emperor is changing the world with Starlink. Starlink has made it easier to go cruising. The RV version is affordable and the most used. It adds the whole world of internet to your boat. It’s like never leaving home. This means more people will go cruising. If they can work remotely, they can go cruising too. Weather forecasting is no longer a mystery or an art. The more people who go cruising, the more cruising will cost. (Or even look what’s happening regarding boating locally.) There will be more strain and competition for services. For example, here in La Paz, you have to reserve a slip well in advance to get one. And you will pay. Demand outweighs supply and build-out. Delaying your cruising will add to your expense. Places like Bora Bora are limiting tourists. In order to preserve the experience, they want to charge more, making the financial barrier of visiting higher. Quality over quantity. The more environmental hype, the more population increases, the more this will occur. Galapagos. Same thing. Drop the romantic notion of electric engine conversion for long-distance cruising. Get on with it. You will want that diesel power plant unless you are a true sailor. There are lots of cruisers and few true sailors. This message isn’t for the wealthy. They can do what they want, when they want. They don’t visit this site. This message is for the romantics and the people on the edge.

These are just observations and interpretations of a fool on a twenty-foot boat with a microphone. Remember to make a donation to keep this fool at sea. Otherwise, I might end up in your community. Think about it. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.