As I put the final touches on our first video about winter in the Sea of Cortez, I took note of the gray skies, the strong winds, the jackets we donned daily. Only a few short months out from those days, I already feel nostalgic for that fresher air. We may not have been swimming as much, but we spent a lot more time outside, hiking, exploring, picnicking, meandering.
Since March, the temperatures have been slowly climbing. I don’t think the thermometer has even hit 90 degrees F yet (except in our pilothouse, which hit 99.8 today), yet the heat somehow seems compounded by the scorching red and brown hills, the grayish-green scrub clinging to the sandy bluffs, and the bright white blinding sun. Anything left out in the sun gets too hot to touch – our steering wheel, shoes, solar showers. We can’t go barefoot on our teak deck in the middle of the day anymore. In fact, we’ve stopped going out in the middle of the day at all. The UV radiates through even the thickest sunscreen, and the low, prickly shrubs make precious little shade. Our midday siestas and cerpuscular schedules make us feel simultaneously more native and more foreign. We live the life that all desert dwellers live, and yet our dried out skin and cranky demeanors remind us that we are products of a land cloaked in moisture and shade.
And it’s only April. We have just less than two months before we pack our bags and return to the shadow of our cool, green fir trees in order to escape this beautiful but harsh furnace and the hurricanes that may tear through it. We smile at the forecast of clouds this weekend and look for anchorages that will afford plenty of swimming – and shade, if we’re lucky enough to see trees. As the sweat glistens on my fair freckles today and my shirt clings to my salty skin, I won’t lie that it makes us dream of the days when we’ll be plying Alaskan fjords and bundling ourselves up for walks under the cedars, but for now we know that we need to find a way to live in the heat and store up its memory in our bones for the cold days of the future.
Boat Issues: Same alternator problems, plus we’re realizing the need to install our deck shades, which hasn’t really been a priority… until now.
Where Are We Now: After spending a little time in Puerto Escondido with friends, we headed up to Ballandra Bay on Isla Carmen for three nights. We spent the days swimming, catching fish, eating fish, and just being hot. We’re now at Isla Coronados and later heading on to points north on our way to Bahia Concepcion.
What’s New: I haven’t written much yet about our boatschool saga, because it’s been, well, a challenging saga. But what’s new is that Dylan actually declared that he is beginning to like reading books. This is huge. More on this later. Also, fish. We’re excited to be catching fish again. Fresh fish means lots of fresh ceviche and tacos!
Well done!
“Crepuscular”: You got me on THAT one.
Andy, yeah, it’s a great word! Active during twilight. (Though I accidentally spelled it wrong. My bad for not checking first.) I learned that one recently when the kids and I were learning about animals in desert habitats. We also noticed in La Paz that very few people are out on the malecon (waterfront walk) in the middle of the day, but in the early mornings and evenings, there are so many people out walking, running, biking, sitting. So, they were already living a crepuscular lifestyle. But we watched and learned!
“Liking to read.” Yeah, that’s huge!
And I’m coming in June? What was I thinking….
You’ll be fine. Just hope for some breeze – not only to sail the boat, but to cool it off. The difference between no wind and even 5 knots of apparent wind makes a huge difference in comfort level! And bring a wide-brimmed hat to make your own shade.
Dylan’s declaration warms my grandma/librarian heart! Congratulations for your perseverance, Sandi, and to Dylan who is discovering for himself the joy of reading. May he lose himself often in a book.
I continue to enjoy reading about your families adventure. Looking forward to the next chapter.
Enjoy!