|Puerto Balandra, late afternoon|
We met the strawberry man the day we left La Paz. I suppose we could just as easily have asked the Del Viento crew where to find him, but it felt like our own little discovery to just come across the man, sitting in the shade of a tree with his young son. The back of his pick-up truck was loaded with crates of fresh strawberries. A friendly chat and a bag of strawberries seemed a fitting way to end our stay in La Paz.
Our last errands done and our goodbyes said; we weighed anchor only to drop the hook 12 nautical miles away. How quickly we were transported to a different world. We tucked in among the other 10 or so boats already in the anchorage. We made quesadillas and watched the sun set. Puerto Balandra is a peaceful little spot, but as the desired southerlies were blowing the next morning, we sailed away.
|No more city, just a sunset|
The first week consisted of a series of hops north. We were searching for our groove; the anchorage where we would exhale the city’s energy and breathe in a slower rythm. It took us a little while. From Balandra, we headed towards Isla Partida. We stopped in La Cuevitas, a tiny little bay north of Ensenada el Cardonal. Had we been there during the right season, we would have had the company of blue-footed boobies. They eluded us yet again.
We still enjoyed our private anchorage – skinny dipping, listening to music, and working on the never-ending list of boat jobs with sweat dripping off our bodies. Rick was a sewing fiend and I battled with leather, tar and brass nails. I was still finding tar on myself three days later. As the day stretched into evening, we headed over to Ensenada Grande, where the Coromuels would have a harder time bouncing us around. While anchoring, we recognized the SV Seychelles crew waving at us. We met this gregarious couple from Alaska in Ensenada Carrizal, just 3 months before. We rowed over, and enjoyed catching up and sharing a few laughs with John and Nikki that evening.
|A bright sunny day in |
Isla San Francisco
After Ensenada Grande, we spent a day and a half at Isla San Francisco – mostly jumping in the water, drinking iced tea and reading. (B&B, I’m happy to report the water was much, much warmer this time, and no I-phone was dropped in the drink.)
The next afternoon, at long last, we pointed our bow toward San Evaristo: A tiny little fishing village in a protected bay. There, we screeched to a halt, and breathed deeply.