Sometimes my life is un-fucking-believable. Today is one of those days.
We planned for it to be the last day in Ensenada and the forecast called for good amounts of wind and we didn’t have an alarm set for sparrow-fart thirty before dawn. Everyone was excited. I know, because I asked. I think that was my first mistake. The next mistake was when we decided to try and maneuver the boat in a small space as if she could spin on a dime and then we ran into another boat and popped one of our fenders. That was definitely not on purpose and definitely lowered my excitement levels for the day. If you’re ever looking to make your knees wobbly, just try running your home into something else that is also solid. Guaranteed wobbles.
For some reason, I decided to take some notes about the whole fiasco in my journal because why would I want to forget something like that? (The reason was because Casey was trying to make me feel better about running into a parked boat and was telling us that we handled it well, there was no yelling, and there was a rational level urgency. It made me laugh, even if it didn’t make me feel less embarrassed.) Writing triggered some low level seasickness and I had to retreat to my bunk to really think about my life choices. It was a gorgeous sunny day, the sails are flying, and my body hates me. I must have been a real jerk in a previous life.
We eventually pull into an anchorage at Punta Santo Tomas where the wind is howling and we don’t even need to use reverse to get the boat to back down on the anchor. All of us were thrilled to find some warmth in the cabin, but I was a bit wary of being below deck as we rock and roll in the waves without a chance of maintaining a visual of the horizon. Again, still giving some serious thought to my life choices.
After dinner we put all our layers back on and peeked outside. Even though it was windy and cold, we all lay in the cockpit, mesmerized by the stars, meteors, and the Milky Way, far from the filters of city lights.
I repeat. My life is un-fucking-believable.