First of all, WHAT A DIFFERENCE AN ISLAND MAKES!
Second of all, having friends who are cruising with us is just wonderful. While we were in Newport Beach, we met Greg and Marga aboard S/V Dogfish. I intended on writing a blog post about them and our shenanigans in Orange County, but I could never quite capture the magic of midnight moonlight salsa dancing party on their foredeck. They abandoned us, left our safe little harbor, raced down the coast, and made it into the Gulf of California before hurricane season, but we reunited in Mazatlán and it feels so good.
***I’d just like to take a minute to shout out to the OC because that little piece of paradise was so, so good to us. I never expected to find any friends, let alone kindred spirits. You know who you are, and we love you.***
Counted among those people is Dogfish. (Cruisers tend to refer to each other as a unit. Instead of celebrity mash-up names, we use boat names. There are too many white guys out there with the same name, plus when you hail each other on the radio you use boat names.) Maybe one day I’ll get to a post about the special friendships created while cruising, but today is not that day. For now, suffice it to say, all of us were uber-ultra-mega excited to hang out and go see things that only happen if you live this crazy lifestyle. Dogfish was so excited that they left Mazatlán several days ahead of us and sent us an email saying “You should come here. You can hear the whales singing.” As if we needed any more encouragement, that little email got us to rev the engine and chop the dock lines for our overnight passage.
When we finally showed up at Isla Isabel we were in a sorry state. After a night of a stalling engine, we were hardly in the mood to be social. We were crabby, exhausted, and ready to throw in the towel. They were in their dinghy and on their way out to go free diving. Not only did they let us pout and sulk, they helped us find a good spot in the extremely rocky anchorage. In a moment when we didn’t trust our engine to stay running, it was incredibly comforting and empathetic. Once we were settled and the engine was intentionally turned off, the only option available to the crew of Small World was to take a nap. On some level, I thought it might turn into a day when we hid inside the boat, just a pair of gremlins, too grouchy to interact with others. But Dogfish wasn’t falling for it.