Last night we were comfortably ensconced here on the boat, listening to St. Louis cream the Texans (Go Cards!) and enjoying every minute of it. There was then a knock on the hull, and Mike popped out the vee berth hatch, thinking it was Sundancer. It was not. Mike stuck his head back down and said in a small voice "It is the Mexican Army and they want to see our papers." (Actually it was the Mexican Navy. But that doesn't really matter. I just want all the facts straight.) Now all our papers are in order. We have passports, visas, our temporary import permit for our boat, our boat registration, and our insurance documents. But I felt my stomach drop dramatically. They want to see our papers! I felt like Ingrid Bergman. Or the Czech couple all from Casablanca. Of course it was anticlimactic - the two guys were very nice, pored over the passports and copied down some info, asked us wherewe were from, and then examined the import permit. They had no interest in our visas or any other papers. It was all very straightforward, but it is still unnerving to be asked that question by men with big guns slung across their chests. It was a good reminder to stay on top of proper paperwork just in case. In fact, one of the reasons we have to return to the US in a couple weeks is to renew our visas. It also made me remember that this will only get more complicated when we go to countries other than Mexico.
We plan to leave tomorrow for Mazatlan and no tequila will be allowed tonight because I am eager to get underway again. The storm we would have likely hit on the way down has dissipated and there is nothing threatening on the horizen for the next few days. It will be a new moon, which means there will be very little light at night. Sometimes the moon is so bright out there you could almost read by it. I did a last minute load of wash in my bucket and it is hanging out to dry. I really do not mind washing clothes that way, but usually in port we are able to send laundry out. We did that here with all the clothes we wore while touring Copper Canyon, so all I had were a couple shirts, a pair of shorts, underwear, and some dish towels. While we are at anchor, laundry consists only of dishtowels and bathing suits, and not even that if we have the anchorage to ourselves and do not need to wear anything. I would not want to have to wash jeans and stuff this way, however.
Right now I am listening to Prairie Home Campanion courtesy of streaming internet from KPBS out of San Diego. I love that show and have not heard it for ages. There is also a show called Writer's Almanac by the same guy, and that is where I heard our official boaat poem, and here it is.
New Religion
by
Bill Holm
This morning no sound but the loud
breathing of the sea. Suppose that under
all that salt water lived the god
that humans have spent ten thousand years
trawling the heavens for.
We caught the wrong metaphor. Real space is wet and
underneath,
the church of shark and whale and cod.
The noise of those vast lungs
exhaling: the plain chanting of monkfish choirs.
Heaven's not up but down and hell
is to evaporate in air. Salvation,
to drown and breathe
forever with the sea.
On that note - I will leave you all. I will try and do a post via SSB radio while uinderway, but if not, next time you hear from me I will be in Mazatlan. Have a great day!
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