PUT IT IN WRITING

Random Lyric of the Day Will Now Be Part of All Updates.


Only the fittest of the fittest shall survive.
Stay alive! Eh!
-Bob Marley (Could You Be Loved)


There's been some serious footdragging in the quest to get the hell on with it.


The typical distractions... sensory stimulation in the form of surf and chasing tail (pathetically out of practice)... had me sidelined cuz I'm looking for any excuse to call quits.


I'm planning one remote stop in Panama and then I'm in Columbia... alone save my non-barking dog... and subject to more verified dangers to gringos.


I met some folks who had guns shoved down their mouths during their first night's stay at a remote anchorage in Columbia. They had a "buddy boat" with them who heard the ruckus and scared off the bandits... had they been alone, who knows.


These things bother me... getting adequate sleep on the boat is hard enough.


The other fear is running out of provisions because, guess what, I'm still broke.


I splurged on a $160 surfboard and am back hovering above debt. Without my sugardaddies aboard I can move much faster and hasslefree but without much of a safety net... aside from parents content to contribute only to EXTRACTION EFFORTS... aka a return to stateside.


Don't think I haven't been tempted... I could be back in the saddle in Jackson Hole within the week... bussing tables to work my way back up to bartender again... saving loot for a betterplaññed escape.


But, really, being broke and scared is what this little mindbender is all about... so I'd best get back onwithit.


My little soiree in paradise went so so. Canadian ski bum types are uniformly friendly and laid-back but they have short memories. I supplied three otherwise extremely expensive boatrides in exchange for $80 and "being taken care of" for a few days... but food was hard to come by and I'm hungrier and broker than before the diversion.


In their defense, they didn't eat much either and I got some amazing fishing tips from my new amigo BEAVER... a serious fishing guide in Costal BC summers.


I The computer is telling me I owe more than I've got in my pocket so I'll have to charm the girl running these computers... good thing my dog is so damn cute.


She got way into chasing lizards in the jungle... it's all she wants to do now. one night she refused to return to the boat... chased lizards all night, I suspect... found her the next morning on the beach... waiting for me with the eyes of a PERRA SALVAJE!



Ohhh yeah, got to crash with a bunch of the best BORDERCROSS snowboarders on the planet... Canadians, Usans, and Euros of all sorts... thanks for the hospitality, gents... and for not kicking my ass.


Catch ya'll on the flipside. I am G.O.N.E.... gone.


MAX

HAPPY 101st POST

This is the 101st post on this silly little blog.

I'm taking advantage of the opportunity to test whether some formatting changes worked.

I sure as shit hope so because all my paragraphs have been getting converted into big blobs of text and I'm sick of it.

It's bad enough not having photos...

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

The plan was Pavones for a day or two but I made some new friends... 4 Canadian Ski Bums... 3 of whom are beautiful women.

Stoked on fishing, sailing and surfing, I've been chartered by GOOD clients.

After a few days in the crowded waves of Pavones we sailed to a semi-secret paradise which I'm not at liberty to name.

The dog got fleas in Pavones. No bueno... still cute though.

The transom snapped off the dinghy but we barely saved the motor.

This morning we encountered a headless, tailless crocodile floating in the river... hopefully we don't encounter whatever'd been eating it.

As soon as I get off this damn computer I'm going surfing on my new (well used) board. 6 foot classic fish.

UNGA UNGA!

MAX

PAVONES!

Hey All,

6-7 foot swell has me stopped at Pavones... which is breaking a half mile left at the present... I can see it from the beachfront bar/internet cafe from whence I write.

My surfboard fucking sucks... I really miss the board Dave was letting me borrow... cést la vie, no. 

I´ll be here for a few days and then heading for more surf in Santa Catalina, PANAMA.

A local fisherman just informed me that my boat is about to get thrashed... the last set almost took it with.

What a considerate gentleman.

Gotta go.

MAX

TODO ROTO

HEY SITS IN BOX AND OTHERS,

So the crew is back to two post the worst three nights of the trip... no sleep... broken computer... lost camera... etc. The Californicators may come back in a few but for now it's me and Mr. Muras... and I'm loving his considerate company.

My computer broke. I broke it... but I'm blaming the Dutch girl for being passed out where my computer would usually reside mid-voyage.

In her defense, however, she definitely needed the sleep.

We covered 200 miles in 2 days and are now in GOLFITO, southern Costa Rica. We're hanging at LAND/SEA, the chillest cruiser hangout I've yet to encounter.

I'm borrowing this computer from the captain of S/V Sarana... one of the most progressive cruisers getting after it lately... check him out... http://www.sailsarana.com/

I'm trying to live without money but I need it to keep this thing afloat... I could easily sink $5000 into the boat without batting an eye.

$5000 in SAFETY and BASIC FUNCTIONALITY... those kind of upgrades.

Anyone who feels like donating should... $20 will go way farther than you'd imagine.

From here, Kevin and I are going to climb Cerro Chirripo, the highest point in CR with views of both oceans.

After that, Kevin flies home and I'm headed into PANAMA... to the surf spot SANTA CATALINA and beyond.

Real adventure in Northern Columbia is just a few hundred miles beyond.

The border of Peru is less than 1000 miles as the crow flies.

La frontera de Chile? Closer than San Diego, USA.

We're getting SOMEWHERE.

Gotta go.

MAX

Out of Hand

Hey All,

Unbenounced to yours truly, the crew grew to 6 overnight... welcoming Jason from San Diego and Charlotte from Denmark.

Now we're sailing south ridiculously overloaded... fortunately we're not going far... or fast... and wind looks to be offshore and mild for the most part.

 Next stop, Guiones.

MAX

In Digestion...

I've let a lot of thoughts slip unrecorded for propriety's sake. Not "properties", dipshit, "propriety's".

pro·pri·e·ty

n. pl. pro·pri·e·ties

1. The quality of being proper; appropriateness.

2. Conformity to prevailing customs and usages.

3. proprieties The usages and customs of polite society.

I don't care what the rest of y'all think about me, but I hate to worry my parents... the last thing I want to appear to them is crazy.

Every once in a blue moon, however, shit makes sense and if you don't record the clarity... snatch it up and wrestle it out...you'll hate yourself plastered... so here goes.

The real purpose of this trip, beyond all the games and good times, is a search for the best place to exist (and, ideally, raise something up) while civilization consumes itself.

ADVANCE RECON...
into an unknown future.

Geographically, I've yet to find dickall... but I expected that... and I'm only about halfway THERE.

Mentally, it's been, well, educational.

The hard part is appetite control...

sexual...

experiential...

adrenal...

physical...

financial.

A greasy feast at the Wort.

Snuggling up to the moment's ONE.

Slaying POW.

You know... the old LIST of GOOD THINGS.

The only way I can stop fearing the collapse of society is through assurance that I can exist removed from it... in spite of it, if need be.

Hence the sailing... studies of weather and sea... a thousand assorted fiddlings... the post-collegiate mountain monkeying... the acquisition of skills and attempted development of TOUGHNESS.

The hard part is developing hopefulness in a life harder and less fruitful than you grew into... working on you PMA.

Positive Mental Attitude.

The hard part is knowing who to surround yourself with... if anybody... especially when your trust is all shot to shit.

Making room for friendship and love slows ya' down.

But, then again, what's the rush?

And just like that, the clarities gone again... so I'm going surfing.

Tomorrow, hopefully, we're getting the fuck out of TOURIST-FILLED TAMARINDO.

The real world is somewhere else.

I love y'all.

Yer Friend,

MAX

Vatitos Locos

During the lonely solo sail through mainland Mexico, I holed up in Huatulco, waiting for a TEHUANTEPECKER to blow itself out.

There was no swell, no wind, no friends, and no money... it wasn't a very fun time.

The coastline was worth exploring, however.

And the water was perfect.

After a couple hours of strolling I really wanted a beer... stumbled across a little palapa restaurant.... only accessible by foot or boat.

Every table was full of local OAXACANS... I hadn't seen another gringo all day.

I mosied up to the counter...

ME: "How much for a beer?"

GREEDY RESTAURATEUR: "$4"

"$4!?"

"Yes, $4"

"You sell the most expensive beer in Mexico.  All your customers must be very wealthy."

"Do you want a beer?"

"Yes, but I can't pay PRECIOS GRINGOS.  Thanks for nothing."

Continuing on my not-so-merry way, I came across five thuggish young Mexicans sitting under a shady tree... they had a case of beer... and I needed some conversation... so I strolled over and introduced myself.

Five minutes later I was spewing stories, cracking my second lukewarm Corona, and awaiting a circulating spliff.

Half an hour later we were all swimming out to the boat with a half bottle of Oso Negro Vodka.

They hooted, giggled, and sported shitgrins, having never been on a "YATE" before.

Two of them had clearly gotten the shit kicked out of them recently.

This young gentleman really reminded me of ICE CUBE. 

The most interesting/interested of them and I had a great conversation.  He claimed pure native blood and I believed it.

They all called themselves Vatos Locos and fronted "PESADO" fathers and older brothers.  Believing them was easy.

Halfway back, they started scurrying all over the boat and I got paranoid they were trying to steal stuff.  They took nothing.

Back on the beach, they took turns paddling around on my surfboard. They also took turns strolling off into the woods with a girlfriend who had materialized. 

I was offered fourths and they assured it was quite good.  I declined on grounds of respecting women.  They laughed and said I was too drunk to get it up.

The ICE CUBE-esque gent, most definitely their leader, developed spontaneous drunken beef.  He decided I didn't believe he was a surfer and that we needed to fight because of it.

I assured him it was "obvio" that he was an amazing surfer (he'd doubtless never surfed in his life).  He laughed and pushed me over good-naturedly.

Starting to get sketched out, I declined an invite to dining jointly, and swam back out to the boat... passed out... and set sail the following dawn with a beastly hangover.

It's time to kite the Tamarindo Rivermouth!

Staying sane despite going nuts,

MAX

Tamarindo?

Hey All,

We made it to Tamarindo, Costa Rica after demolishing coconuts... playing Scrabble... polishing off a handle of RUM at some secluded beach en route.

We also surfed crowded Playa Grande in good conditions.

Unfortunately, we lost one crewmember to a combination of Swine Flu/Ebola/Dengue Fever... Snootch had to return to the Oosa... he is sorely missed by all but, hey, health is health.

The rest of us have developed Pirate-Like Immune Systems.

I was here 5 years ago, visiting the brother of a then girlfriend. He was selling real estate here and apparently still is. I have to find him to thank him; an old pink Mamut climbing rope he gifted me at a drunken Christmas long ago serves as lifelines and fulfills assorted other tasks aboard SIN FIN. That rope saved my life thrice on this trip... I owe him a beer... at least.

Also, I'm pretty sure he has air conditioning.

The plan is to surf here for a few days... 5 foot, 4 star swell is on the forecast.

The crew is excited for a little "shore leave" as well... as is the dog. Me? I hate leaving the water.

My beer is empty... gotta go fix that... and move the dinghy anchor before the tide drops and puts her in the break.

Live it up.

Yer Friend,

MAX

Northern Costa Rica

Crazy Dave lost my boat (to an 8 year old) in a high stakes game of chess so we were forced to leave San Juan Del Sur under cover of darkness.

The favorable Papagallo winds had ceased and we motored into severely confused seas and thunderstorms... one lightning bolt got way too close... "Am I going to kill all of us on the first night?" crossed my mind.

About 2:30 am, the storms abated and dolphins swam in the phosphorescence all around the boat

We made it to Ollie's Point in time for a twilight nap and sunrise surf session.

Waves were gentle, waist to head high, and fun.

None of the charter boat surfers could believe there were five of us (and the dog) living on my boat. They also couldn't believe that my boat came down from Oregon.

They thought we were crazy. I thought they were crazy... dropping $300 a boatload for a few hours of surfing. CRAZY, 2-weeks-paid-vacation-wasting, FOOLS.

Unlike the crew...

Snootch, Kevin, Chav, Dave

Maestra now permanently sports neon Zinka.

She's become quite the fearless swimmer too... maybe a bit to fearless.

The TREASURE CHEST! Thanks Michelle!

Kevin also brought peanut butter. Chav loves peanut butter.

Team-building exercises at the world's greatest poolhall...

...where this beauty hangs over the tables.

Breakfast in Playa Del Coco.

Today we're headed to Tamarindo for more mellow surf and perhaps a bit of fiesta...

Hasta Luego.

MAX

GO ON, GET GONE...

... don't wait too long.

After an enjoyable month here, we're finally leaving Nicaragua (hopefully) tomorrow. Everything hinges upon whether the Port Captain decides to be a dick or not.

I've developed a bit of a reputation... the pangueros call me PIRATA for operating"charters" without a license... port security calls me PERRO for apparently exhibiting sub-human characteristics... the Capitan del Puerto has beef because I refuse to ask his permission every time I weigh my anchor... hence he has the opportunity to be a dick tomorrow.

We'll see. I'm not worried about it. In a pinch we can vamoos under cover of darkness.


Highlights include meeting some amazing people, learning to really surf, sinfully celebrating Semana Santa, successfully chartering Sin Fin (and breaking even on expenses for the month), kiting Outer Reef at Popollo, and learning a gripload more about highwind sailing.

The last crewmember should arrive in the morning and we should be underway by noon. A good swell is scheduled to hit Tuesday, and, wouldn't ya know, we'll be anchored off two of the best breaks in COSTA RICA... only accessible by boat.


Ollie's Point.


Roca Bruja (Witches Rock)

I could get used to this shit.


Enjoy it.

MAX

Back to Giant's Foot

The new crew all earned their JUNIOR SEAMAN merit badges by successfully sailing SIN FIN while I kited alongside.

We sailed from San Juan back NORTH to Pie De Gigante as a little trial run. The kinks are ironing out.

Today we're going surfing at Playa Madera. Tomorrow we're ealing with bullshit and setting sail for Witches Rock.

Gotta go.

MAX