It's five o'clock in the morning here in Santiago Bay, just outside of Manzanillo. The sky is pitch dark without a hint of light, and sunrise won't happen for another 2 and a half hours. The water is absolutely flat calm without a breath of air. A small surf is beating rhythmically on the shore and the boat is very gently moving in the ocean's swell. Next to our boat, a family of dolphins is fishing for their breakfast. I can hear their breaths, then silence, and then the water explodes in a sudden lunge or tail slap. With my steaming, first cup of coffee poured; Rudy fed, petted, and now warming my feet; internet running; and two fast-asleep crewmates, the boat is all mine. Life is currently about as good as it gets.
We came down to Santiago two days ago on the afternoon's sea breezes. It wasn't enough to push us along without an engine running too, but that just means the seas were relatively flat, and the going was easy. Yesterday we provisioned up and today we will set sail for points further south. We are headed another 180 miles south to Zihuatanejo in time for their sailing festival. Zihuatanejo is a name has always hung in the back of my mind as an exotic destination and refuge, ever since watching the old movie, Shawshank Redemption. I can hear Tim Robbins' voice saying the name in my head even today, years later. Zihuatanejo will be our furthest south port this year and then we will turn around and head north again.
5 days ago