April 11 Monday _La Cruz to Los Muertos
We just can’t bear an early departure from our favorite town, La Paz!
Inexplicably we don’t cast off until 11 am. We have a long motor north to reach the Lorenzo Channel and then sail south to Muertos Cove — our next stop on the way home.
Since our arrival in Cabo San Lucas in November we have been honing the art of meeting cruisers. We met cruisers as we crisscrossed from Cabo San Lucas to Zihuatanejo (the southern end of the Mexican Gold Coast), and to our northern most stop up the Sea of Cortez (Loreto and Carmen Island). For example we had dinner with Cindy and Rick on Cool Change in Isla San Francisco and then saw them again three days later in Loreto. We tried to meet up with them again in La Paz, but somehow we missed. And so meeting and separating goes.
We are like skipping stones on a pond, touching on the surface briefly and then splashing down again and again. But the relationships are anything but superficial. The cruisers’ bond is a fast-setting glue. Bonding is not a matter of time; it is a matter of a common set of values. The cruising lifestyle is a great teacher, and we have learned from our common mother the sea that our spiritual oneness is stronger than any social force.
We associate the boat name with the first names of the cruisers on board — as if the boat name was a third person, or a family child. Oh yeah, you are on Surprise. We are lucky because Raven’s Dance is a unique, memorable name. Cruisers are a self-selected family and we are related not by blood but by wind. Drinks or dinner together aboard your boat or mine qualifies for lifetime friendship.
We have not yet met a “bad” cruiser — although we have found a few incompetent ones — such as Gary, who in Puerto Escondido fouled our anchor and charged RD with his bow in his confused effort to untangle it. In the end it was no scratch, no harm and no foul, and friendship overcame judgment.
We have the same feelings everyone has at the moment of realization of the inevitability that this too must end… that moment when sentimental goodbyes are in order.
Cruisers have learned the art of hello’s and the inevitability of frequent goodbyes. At this moment we are saying our farewells (I prefer au revoir — until we meet again) to Marty and Thiebault at the dock.
Then Lisa and I settle into a full day of motor sailing. The chart-plotter shows an arrival time of 10:48 pm and a quiet melancholy falls over RD.
The sunset seems to be a metaphor for the friends we have left behind. Lisa and I finally speak, and we notice we both have the same sadness. Perhaps it is the universal one everyone feels when departing from a loved one or family reunion. Goodbyes are spoken in cliches “parting is such sweet sorrow”; “goodbye bro”; and of course the traditional “fair winds“. All clichés backed by unspoken feelings.
We anchor in Los Muertos after 2300 hours and grab some sleep. The melancholy lingers.