Our good luck with the weather took a turn for the worse. The wind picked up before sunrise and didn’t let up, increasing as the day wore on. We planned to leave early for the next anchorage on our slow journey to La Paz, but when the fishing boats stayed ashore, a local guy that camps on the beach laughed when we said we were going and a boat that had left at dawn returned to re-anchor in the safety of the bay our plans changed and we stayed put. The chore of waiting out the weather began. It’s times like this that test a person’s capacity for tedium. The boat tugs on the anchor and rocks uncomfortably. Everything not solidly glued down flaps, taps and bangs. It’s the time when sailors in centuries passed picked oakum, wrote shanties about calmer days or spit downwind and turned three times, praying it would end. For anyone who has been envious, you should know about this part also. This blow is predicted to last for five days. The water smacking on the hull sounds like a big dog licking its balls, without end. Going ashore is impossible. Creak, squeak, moan. I think the moaning came from another person. This is only day one. By day three when nerves get worn thin care must be taken not to do anything stupid like accidently setting your hair on fire or snapping at other people. It will be interesting to see how the guys hold up. They were tired of this place and raring to go this morning before we were thwarted by the weather. So far they’re making a valiant effort to sleep through it, but getting chaffed in bed is an actual problem with the waves jerking the boat. We’ve retreated to our own corners to handle it in our own ways. I’m wedged into the short end my bunk just to be able to type. For people who wish for time with nothing better to do than laze around, this is not one of those days. It takes effort to stay still; I keep hitting the wrong keys when the boat jerks. Boredom isn’t a problem, there’s always something to do, but there is a point when it’s too difficult for even the simplest tasks. I’m glad I cleaned the head before it really got going or I’d have bruises on my face from the toilet ring. There’s nothing quite like the appliances launching themselves at you.
Winds like this often have names, maybe out of respect for their fortitude. Tehuantepecs, Santa Anas, Chinooks, Chubascos, I’m guessing the names mean The Big Blowhard, The Foul Windbag or possibly a Gale of Laughs, as it could eventually drive a person to cackling madness. This one might be a Screaming Blue Northerner, which is at least descriptive. Last night, before all this fun began, we sat on the stern and shone a spot light into the water as a huge school of fish surrounded the boat after another vibrant sunset and glowing red moon rise. Seals poked their heads up in the moon’s reflection. Sparkling phosphorescence twinkled in the dark water. When the beam of light caught the fish it made their eyes glow like hundreds of Christmas lights, there were so many of them. It helps to remember that now, but on these howling windy days you can be grateful you are not living the dream.
This connection isn't strong enough to upload photos, but we'll be in La Paz in a week or so where services are better.