Diverted

We are currently underway, heading to the mainland of Mexico. It's the middle of the night and I'm on watch. We are roughly 100 miles from the nearest spot of land, and depending on how the wind holds up, we have roughly 48 hours to go before our tosies will be back on terra firma. The moon just set over the horizon and a layer of clouds rolled in which blocked out any light from the stars above. Other than the navigation lights from our boat, it's pitch black out. I can't see any difference if my eyes are open or closed. It's kind of eerie, but at the same time, the sound of the water rushing by the boat as we are sailing along is calm and serene.

I don't want to jinks ourselves, but this could end up being the easiest passage we've ever had. We've got 10 knots of breeze on our beam, almost no swell to speak of, and we're doing a smooth 5 knots. There is hardly any motion in the boat and it's warm outside. It's so warm that I'm just wearing shorts. Nothing else. Just shorts. Did I mention that it's the middle of winter and it's 2 AM? I have been getting emails and texts from friends and family back home telling me about all the snow and nasty weather and here I am in shorts. No snow to be found, just me in my shorts. At 2 AM. In January. In my shorts. Amazing.

We are headed for Isla Isabella which is a tiny island off of Mexico's mainland coast. It's part of Mexico's national park system and has been called the Galapagos of Mexico because of the unique plants and animals it holds. There are iguanas, frigate birds, and blue footed boobies to see - and who doesn't like to see boobies??? I know this boy does.

This tiny island doesn't have a good protected anchorage, so the best way to safely see it is to arrive in calm and settled weather. So, we left La Paz and timed our trip to arrive at Isla Isabella when the weather is supposed to be nice and peaceful. The downside of this plan is that the wind that is pushing us along right now is supposed to die out and we'll end up motoring for the last 12 or so hours of our time at sea. Ugh. Motoring is one of my least favorite things.

Even though we'll have to burn up some of the dead dinosaurs in our tank and put up with the monotony of the rattle of our diesel engine for hours on end, we'll get to see one of the places on our list of must sees, and you guessed it, that's a good thing.

Well, I had a point that I was going to make with this bit of rambling, but now that point is going to change.

I had taken a break from pecking at the keyboard to adjust the sails, eat some food, and wake up Brenda for her turn on watch. In between me having a snooze, raising and lowering the spinnaker 4 different times for some shifty wind, oohing and awing over all the dolphins, whales, and sea turtles we have been seeing, and Brenda and I alternating every 3 hours for some attempted sleep, the mood on this boat has changed.

With a miracle of modern times, we received a message from my Mom back home through our satellite link that my Uncle has passed away.

The fact that she was able to share this terrible news with us while we are so far from land is kind of amazing, and I'm not going to lie, pretty frustrating. I'm not in the least bit frustrated that the news was shared. That's a good thing. I'm frustrated that there is nothing we can do from where we are at. We are 2 days away from our intended destination and that destination is a remote island off the coast of Mexico. There will be no cell service or internet access at the island, which means there will be no way for us to make arrangements or to easily connect with family.

So, Brenda and I talked it over and decided the best thing for us to do right now is change course. The closest city to us with internet access and an airport is Mazatlan. If the wind holds up, we can make it there sometime tomorrow.

It's currently 3 AM on our second night at sea, I'm on watch, and we are pointed towards Mazatlan. There are 12 knots of breeze blowing from the north and the boat is gently heeled over as we charge our way to our new destination. Since there is almost no swell to speak of, it's amazingly comfortable and incredibly smooth sailing. There is a bright full moon overhead and it's warm outside. If we weren't going to Mazatlan under these circumstances, I would go out on a limb and say these are some of the best sailing conditions we've had in thousands of miles.

My mind usually wanders when we are on a passage and tonight is no different. The boat is dialed in and sailing itself, there is no internet or phone service, and with Brenda being sound asleep, it's just me and my thinking to occupy my time. Since I have nothing but time out here, my mind has been occupied.

Some of my earliest memories are of my uncle. He briefly lived with us when I was 2 or 3 and I can still vividly remember running into his room and jumping on him as he slept. As my siblings and I got older and more annoying, he would affectionately give us “knuck-knucks” (knuck-knucks are a headlock and a hard knocking with the knuckles right on top of the melon. Sometimes this maneuver is called a “noogie” but that terminology is incorrect. A noogie includes the headlock but is more of a hard rubbing with the knuckles that burns the melon. Both are misery for the receiver but very different and shouldn't be confused). Knuck-knucks are painful torture but the smile and laugh that came from Uncle Ricky as he administered them let us know he loved us. And for some reason, we always wanted more. When we would introduce our friends to him, we would beg him to give them knuck-knucks. And what do you know - he happily obliged. When he had a son of his own, I was more than happy to return the favor of knuck-knucks and keep the family tradition alive.

We've had a handful of friends and family pass during the time we've been traveling vagabonds. Other than my grandfather who was in his 90's, each and every one of these people seemed to be way too young to leave us. It's a reminder to me of how little time we have and how precious that time is. It also reminds me to use that time wisely, because you never know when it's going to be gone.

As I write this, I'm not looking for sympathy or condolences. Death is a part of life and I understand that fact. Tonight I'm just saddened that someone I have cared about is gone. To my dear Uncle Ricky, the king of the knuck-knucks, you will be missed.

This is the look Brenda gives when she realizes she gets to share the only shady spot on the boat.  She loves sharing.  Especially when it's hot out, the sun is relentless, and we get to sit really close together.

Oh, you know, just hanging out with some dolphins.

This could be one of the best sunrises at sea I have ever seen.  Not too shabby.