Chapter 2, Part 1: The Life Aquatic

It has been a rocky start to the adventure to say the least. We set off from LA six days ago to sail one hundred and fifty miles to Ensenada, North Mexico, from where I write. Skipper James had calculated that it would take us a maximum of forty-eight hours to complete this stretch, working on the premise that we could comfortably cover one hundred nautical miles in twenty-four hours. It sounded all very planned and researched. The only problem was that James has this profound philosophy that he wants to use only the wind to get to places, following in the footsteps of our maritime forefathers. This is all well and good providing that there is actually enough wind to move the boat. Of course, the West Coast of America between LA and the Mexican border is notoriously absent of wind. Thus, there we were, sat stationary in the Pacific ocean, falling victim to the six foot swell for, for four solid days. It was an absolute nightmare. I felt as though I was trapped on one of those pirate ships you find at theme park, bobbing violently up and down for what felt like forever. James tried to raise morale by reading us his favourite quotes about riding the wind to exotic destinations and about making the most of what Mother Nature gives you. It fell on deaf ears as we sat there feeling sick, having to dodge things as they fell off the shelves, whilst watching the sea appear and then disappear through the port holes. As if that was not bad enough, were also enveloped in a dense fog bank for about three days. This meant that we could not see more than twenty metres from the boat. This made sailing at night a hoot, as I'm sure you can imagine. The way we have worked it is that there are three night shifts of four hours between eight in the evening and eight in the morning. These shifts are called watches. We are split into twos and threes in order to conduct these watches, the idea being to keep the boat sailing, or drifting helplessly in our case, throughout the night. So, we would be sat there for four hours every night in the freezing fog, trying to determine how far away the ship was whose fog horn was getting ever louder. Pretty scary stuff. Having survived your watch, you would then have to go and wake up the next people so that they could continue this terrifying endeavour. Safe in the knowledge that you were no longer responsible for the boat, you then crawled into bed, which in my case is a bench in the communal area, with Chris sleeping in what can only be described as a big book shelf slightly above me, to then be rocked to sleep. So, all in all, sailing is not quite what its cracked up to be.

However, it was a completely different story once we crossed the border into Mexico. Literally as soon as we entered Mexico, the fog receded, basking the boat in glorious sunshine, and the wind picked up. As a result of this, we had an incredible days sailing with the boat doing a constant six knots whilst we sat and read in the sunshine, occasionally looking up from the page to see a whale breach. Now, that is the kind of sailing I can get on board with. This meant that we arrived in Ensenada in high spirits, whereas just a few days before we had been on the verge of mental breakdown; we actually found ourselves going a bit mad, with us bursting into fits of laughter over nothing. Slightly concerning. What a sight we must have been, a boat full of dishevelled men who had not showered for five days and whose last meal had been a plate of plain, powdered mash potato. Look out ladies, here we come! But, having paid thirty pasos for a shower in an alley way and with our bellies full of burritto, we set out to explore what Ensenada had to offer. I have got to say, Mexico is incredible. It is completely different from what we were expecting given the horror stories that we had heard in LA that depicted Mexico as some sort of backwards drug fuelled gang land. This could not be further from the truth We have found everyone to be really friendly and helpful and there is everything you could possibly want here. A case in point would be last night. We all went out to blow off some steam after our arduous trip. We hit a few bars, which all turned out to be strip clubs; it transpires that you can get anything you want here apart from a conversation with a girl that you don't have to pay for. Happy to be alive and on dry land, and to make it less awkward as you tried to have a conversation with one of the boys whilst some Mexican stripper was straddling you, we all got pretty drunk. Sam wondered off on his own and disappeared. We all feared the worst as we scoured the town in search of him. Eventually we found him and frantically asked if he was O.K. It turns out that he was absolutely fine. He had gone to a bank and been approached by a homeless man. Rather than being mugged and killed, Sam sat with the man whilst he fixed his flip flops, giving them a Christmasy flair as he held them together with tinsel. Absolutely brilliant. Bearing all of  this in mind, Mexico has so far found a place in our hearts. I am sincerely looking forward to seeing more of this country as we sail further down its coast.

We set sail again tomorrow for Bahia de Tortugas, a port that lies three hundred miles south of here. James has predicted it will take four days, so it will probably take two weeks. At least now we are prepared for what could happen; we have a ridiculous amount of food and we have fixed all of the problems that the boat incurred whilst at sea. So, hopefully I will write again soon!

Hasta luego.