A Miracle

We've been far from any internet access or phone coverage for the last couple of weeks, and now that we are briefly back in range of our cell phones and I can catch up with the blog, this posting seems a bit out of date. But since it seemed important enough to write it at the time, I guess it still seems like I should post it. So, here you go. Better late than never.

Today is Christmas morning. We are anchored at a little place called Caleta Partida. It's a place I read about nearly 20 years ago when I first started dreaming of sailing the world and it's a place that I envisioned myself sitting in as I was going through the motions of normal life, struggling through the daily grind. It's a place that helped keep the dream alive and a place that helped me keep my sanity. It was a place to strive for as I was sitting in Seattle's gridlocked traffic, clenching the wheel with rage because some idiot cut me off without even having the courtesy to use their blinker (it's the little lever on the left side of your steering wheel...learn it and use it).

Caleta Partida is an extinct volcano in the Sea of Cortez who's eastern and western walls have eroded away over millions of years to leave a beautiful bay smack dab in the middle of the volcanic crater. We are surrounded by steep cliffs left by the long gone volcano. Cactus are impossibly perched on the sides of the cliffs. White sand beaches line the shore, the turquoise blue water is warm and crystal clear, and schools of fish dart around the boat. And the best part of all? We are anchored in the middle of it all with 5 other boats that are filled with our good friends - getting ready to share a Christmas dinner.

Brenda has a turkey jammed into our little boat oven, S/V Del Sur is baking fresh bread, and S/V Full Monty has their oven filled with some sort of tasty treat that smells of cinnamon, chocolate, and goodness. Even though it doesn't feel like Christmas while we are anchored in the desert, surrounded by cactus, and with warm sunny skies overhead, it sure does smell like Christmas. If that's not a Christmas miracle, I don't know what is.

In a couple of hours, we'll feast. I can't wait.

I've often been asked what our favorite thing about our cruising life is. It's an easy question to answer. Although if you would have asked me a few years ago, I would have thought the answer would be different. Before we left, I would have probably answered that the best thing would be the places we are seeing, the adventure, or even the freedom. But now that we've been roaming vagabonds for a couple of years and have a little bit of experience under our belts, the easy answer is that the people we've met along the way are the best part. Hands down and with no room for debate, it's definitely the people.

We love going to remote and out of the way places that aren't spoiled by the masses. We love solitude and isolation and raw, unadulterated nature. But that doesn't mean we are trying to avoid people. We actually love people. The fact that we are in this rugged little slice of heaven, nestled in between the high walls of this once active volcano with other people we care about, well, that just makes it all that much better.

Time is our most precious commodity. It doesn't matter how much money you have or how much fancy talking you do, you can't get more of it. It is severely limited and it is fleeting. The biggest downside of our cruising lifestyle is that even though we have the best of friends anchored here with us, in a short amount of time, the group will disperse and start going their separate ways.

One boat is heading home to Australia after nearly 10 years at sea, another is heading home to Denmark after 6 years at sea, and another is heading back to the East Coast of the US after a 5 year sabbatical. One in our group is making their way farther north up the Sea of Cortez, one is going south, and then there is us. We have no idea where we are heading. We are taking things day by day and going where the wind takes us with no agenda in sight.

So, today we'll spend some of our most precious commodity with our new found family. We will pour every ounce of energy we have into making the most of this day with these people, knowing all the well that this slice of time will only last briefly. It's the best Christmas present we can give and it's the best Christmas present we can receive.

For a guy who doesn't care one bit about the holidays, I am pretty happy to be here, celebrating a day that normally is just a number on the calendar to me. Being in a dusty and remote part of Mexico, with no internet access or phone service, no TV ads or shopping malls in sight, and no pressure to buy useless garbage for everyone we know, it miraculously makes this holiday appealing to me. It brings me back and reminds me of what the holidays should be, because it's not like we are really celebrating Christmas here, we are celebrating the time we have together. It just so happens to be that this time we have together falls on Christmas day.

So, tonight we feast. We'll sing, we'll dance, and we'll be merry. We'll sit under the stars, we'll tell tall tales of times at sea, and we'll cherish our time spent with our newly found family. And even though our time here is severely limited and fleeting, it is still precious.

From our family to yours, we hope your holiday season is as enjoyable and memorable as ours, and we wish you all the best in the new year to come.

Our Christmas home sweet home.  Photo cred goes to Wolff on S/V Del Sur - aka The German

Our Christmas Family having Christmas dinner on S/V Full Monty

You guessed it, it's a Christmas raft-up in Mexico.