Pothole Mag #5: La Paz, Baja through Mainland Mexico

After the ridiculous business venture in Ensenada Muertos went sour, I had about 1,000 dollars in my pocket and a torqued out brain in my head.  Losing out on such a big opportunity was very depressing, and I couldn't help but feel partially at fault  At the same time, I kinda hated myself for having gone along with the whole fiasco in the first place.  Also, having had a falling out with my friend Mack, I was now sailing solo and feeling very alone.

I had only been travelling four months and had much further to go, but I needed to rest and resupply before attempting a 350 mile crossing of the Sea of Cortez.  I also needed to scrounge together some money because Mexico wasn't as cheap as expected, and I had 1,400 miles of it's coastline to explore before reaching Central America.

After a crusty old windsurfer spun tales of a remote and ridiculously windy spot in Southern Mexico, I set my sights on it: the Gulf of Tehuantepec.  As a kite-surfer, I hoped to discover an ungringofied paradise in the massive lagoons of this hurricane-spawning geographical anomaly.

Kinda fearing for my life, I headed to La Paz where the yacht community -- especially Trimaran Dan and the young crew of Outkast -- nursed me back to good spirits.  I sold a few kites, taught a few lessons, and fixed a few bikes.  By selling them at the La Paz Yacht Club, I was able to pocket a few more bucks.

A Typical Sunset as Seen Skating Down the Malecon in La Paz.

Lonely and doubting the sanity of my voyage, I dropped $450 to fly in an ex-girlfriend.  This was a painful and costly mistake, but at least it confirmed my will to keep sailing.  A few days later I bid farewell to La Paz, and began my voyage across the Sea of Cortez.

It was hauntingly still my first night out and to make progress I fired up the motor and let it burn all night.  Perfectly still, perfectly clear, no moon and not a light on the horizon, it was just me, the dog, the stars, and a gorgeous streak of phosphorescence in our wake.  I lay dozing off when the dog perked up and started pacing.  Hopping up and scanning the horizon, I sighted nothing but black water save our own glowing wake.  Then, suddenly, there was  burst of colorful light dead ahead, and a gigantic glowing tube with a massive tail slid out of our path.  We'd almost T-boned a whale sleeping at the surface.  Fortunately, the drone of my tiny 6 horse motor awoke it just in time.

Lacking the money to clear customs in the many tourist ports throughout Mainland Mexico, I skipped most of them and, if I absolutely had to stop, pulled in secretively just to resupply and check the weather.  This was fine by me as I was trying to avoid disgustingly gringofied resort towns.  In Mexico many a once pristine beach is backed with high rise condominiums.  From sea it often looks like a dozen Jacos lined up side by side.

After a brief stop in Barra Navidad I continued onward to a remote and pristine paradise named Chacahua.  Home to a perfect Left and epic seaside bouldering, I decided to make it my own.  There I spent a week in the service of a local "lord" named, appropriately enough, "REY!".   Once again, and this time no doubt rightly, I fled fearing for my life.  For the complete story on that one, go to my blog and search for "REY".  It's at www.oilfreefun.com.

After another brief stop in Puerto Escondido (it was fortunately flat) I continued onward to Huatulco and the Gulf of Tehuantepec.  All the nautical charts showed a clear and relatively deep channel into the massive lagoons at Tehuantepec, but reality proved otherwise.  Sailing near shore along the length of the lagoons, even at high tide I never encountered less than a 5 foot tall sandbank separating the Pacific from the lagoon.  As such, there was no place to safely anchor so I had to keep moving on.

After a few expensive days of paperwork in Puerto Chiapas, I was just about broke as I crossed the border into Guatemala.  I couldn't afford to clear customs there (~$150) or in El Salvador (~$200) so I set my sights on the poorest country in Central America: HONDURAS.