Point Taken

Just the other day, we were standing at the base of Mexico's Colima Volcano with a handful of good friends and a few random strangers. While we were there, one of these random strangers had asked me what we were doing in Mexico, how long we've been here, which resort we are staying at, blah, blah, blah... You know, the typical tourist small talk. When I answered that we had sailed here from Seattle, we've been in Mexico for almost 5 months, we'll probably be here for another year before we move on to the next country, we are working our way around the world, blah, blah, blah... It opened a can of worms. It always does.

Brenda warns me all the time that if I don't want to get into a long conversation with a random stranger that I'll probably never see again, don't mention anything about sailing the world, just say, “I'm on vacation.” It's a concept everyone understands – it's a short break from reality before going back to the grind.

I liked this guy I was talking to, so I answered his questions honestly and openly and got deeper and deeper into the concept of cruising. Since the vast majority of the worlds population has no idea of what it means to travel the world by sailboat, these questions are always the same and always end up going down a rabbit hole that a quick interaction can't fully explain. But again, I liked the guy so I did my best to appease his curiosity. Inevitably, the rabbit hole always leads to a philosophical question about what brought a guy from Seattle to the point where I was standing at the base of a volcano in Mexico. When he asked me how I got here, I knew he wasn't asking about how I hired a guy with a van to drive us and our good friends to see a volcano that might blow at any moment.

What he wanted to know, was what makes a person want to live a life completely different from all societal norms? Because right after he asked how I got here, he quickly said, “because I could never do that.” That's a tougher question to answer than just saying, “I met a guy, who knows a guy, whose cousin has a van who could take us to see the volcano for a good price.”

Since I've been asked this question on multiple occasions and by multiple people and have tried to answer it many times in the past, I thought I would try to quickly answer it here again without coming off as sounding too snooty.

The short answer is that we couldn't have happily lived our lives in any other way. It's just how we are wired. Both Brenda and I have both had more than just a touch of wanderlust in us for as long as we can remember. We both crave freedom and adventure and I'm pretty sure it's why we've done so well together. We worked really hard, we saved and schemed for what seemed like an eternity, and then we left. We could have had the house with the white picket fence, the big screen TV's, and a garage with shiny new cars, but we wouldn't have been happy. So, we traded all of that stuff in for a life lived fulfilled. This roaming vagabond lifestyle fits us perfectly, and more than anything, this lifestyle seems pretty normal to me. Because why wouldn't you want to live a life fulfilled?

So, how did we get to the base of Mexico's Colima Volcano? Well, that's an easier question to answer. Brenda and I had read that the volcano was getting pretty active, it had a pretty big and recent eruption, and that it was only a couple of hours drive from where our little floating home was anchored in Barra de Navidad. Of course we want to see a volcano up close and personal, so, I asked a local Mexican guy how we could get there. His answer was typically Mexican.

“You can take a tour from that hotel over there for 3,000 pesos per person, or, I know a guy who has a cousin who has a van that can take you for 600 pesos each. His van even has A/C!!!”, he answered.

“Perfect!”

When I asked how many people the van could take, he simply said, “as many as you want.” Yeah, it's Mexico. We've seen a family of 8 riding on a moped while carrying a load of groceries, so a van, yeah, as many as you want.

We told some of our sailing friends that we were arranging a trip to see the volcano, but, we know nothing about how we are getting there, because a van with “A/C” in Mexico could actually mean that we'll be riding in the back of a pickup truck, squeezed in with the chickens. Not surprisingly, everyone of our friends we talked to wanted to go, and I'm pretty sure they were all hoping for the back of the truck with the chickens. I know I was.

With 7 salty sailors in tow, we met our driver the following morning and hopped in a real van with real working A/C and real working seat belts. Pretty impressive (although not as exciting as chickens).

Our driver spoke halfway decent English, and with our halfway terrible Spanish, we were able to communicate fairly well. He took us all the way to a viewpoint at the base of the volcano and stopped the van. When we told him we wanted to do some hiking on the volcano, he simply said, “you can.” When we asked if there are roads to get us up closer, he said “there are.” When we asked if we could peer into the crater, he said, “yes.” With a little more prodding and us telling him we wanted a better and closer view, he said, “this is Mexico, you can do anything you want.” When we asked what was stopping him from driving us any closer to the volcano so we can get that better view we craved, in broken English he answered profoundly, “you will be dead.”

Point taken.

A big part of our life lived fulfilled is longevity. If a guy from a country with zero safety standards tells me “you will be dead”, I'm listening.

Sunrise over the anchorage at Barra de Navidad

Who doesn't love a good ol' fashioned ice cream cheers with good friends.

 

The Colima Volcano.  Yes, we survived it's fury.