ANNAPRUNA CIRCUIT part one

Trekking through the Himalayan mountains of Nepal was one of the most physically demanding things I'd ever done, and also one of the most rewarding adventures I'd ever been on. The breathtaking scenery and earth based culture was nothing short of spectacular. As I moved through this world that reflected or embodied a rhythm where people listened to and connected with the spirit of the land unlike anywhere I'd ever been before, I was left with a lasting impression of Nepal and the sturdy mountain people living in those higher elevations that will be eternally etched in my memory.

"The Annapruna Circuit" (The Goddess of Abundance) was the first of three treks I did while there and because it was the my first I thought it might be wise to pay the extra rupees and hire a guide out of Kathmandu. The guesthouse I'd been staying in had a trekking company they worked with (they all did) introduce me to a confident young Nepalese man named Robin who had done this 20 day journey many times before, and he also spoke English which made things much easier.

We set a date for our departure and when doing so he asked if I wouldn't mind the company of another traveler who was from Australia and also wanting to venture out into the mountains.  I was just happy to be going and welcomed the opportunity to share the trail with another person. A couple days later the international threesome of Robin from Nepal, Emily from Australia and myself from Canada all
bubbling with excitement came together and took a day long nerve racking bus ride to the village of Besisahar where we would begin our adventure the following morning. I recall sitting on the deck in front of the guesthouse that night pondering about what was yet to come and realized this had always been a dream, the romantic notion of hiking in the majestic Himalayan mountains and now there I was manifesting it. Life couldn't have been better and the next morning under a blanket of battleship gray cloud we hoisted our backpacks up onto our shoulders and began walking the first of the 22 days it would take us to complete the trek.


We skirted fast moving creeks, crossed deep gorges and rivers by swinging foot bridges, and slowly  walked through small villages that sat up high looking out over valleys. Later that first day when the thunder and lightening started and the torrential rains came down we were forced to seek shelter in a tiny guest house on the trail called the Sky High Guesthouse. We dried out and stayed warm beside a dung fire happy for the down time and to be out of the nasty weather. Most guesthouses use yak or buffalo dung to fuel their fires as wood is quite scarce. The three of us enjoyed drinking pots of spicy masala chai tea while playing cribbage and other card games and when we got hungry we devoured plates of delicious dal bhat (rice, lentils vegetables and curry) with naan bread. As it turned out we ended up having to stay an extra day at the guesthouse because of the relentlessly heavy pounding rainfall. We would have liked to be moving sooner but when moving in the Himalayan mountains, being in a big hurry will just get you hurt if not worse. I just curled up and did a little journal writing to pass the time.

The weather was much better the morning we said our goodbyes to the friendly owners of the Sky High Guesthouse. The sun peeked through the slowly dissipating low cloud and spread brightness, some needed warmth and offered us the promise of a good day ahead. We were completely rested, cheerful and also very curious about what might lay ahead. It was with this new found energy our little rag tag fugitive fleet struck out hopeful that the sky would eventually clear and a drier more pleasant experience would unfold. It did, and over the next week despite major lung busting climbs, sore muscles and blisters on our feet we progressed along quite nicely enjoying the best of weather. The deeper into the Annapruna mountain range we hiked the stronger we became and the more beautiful the rugged landscapes appeared. In the villages locals were always friendly, welcoming and seemed quite content to just go about their daily lives taking very little notice of us as we traveled through, which, I must admit unlike the larger centers, made for a relaxing easy time. Up until this point we'd crossed paths with a small number of other trekkers but very few so it was quite a surprise to see so many when we walked into the village of Jagat. There were 4 maybe 5 larger groups and ourselves converging on this village at the same time and as it turned we all seemed to be moving in the same direction. It was from then on in the journey these meetings among groups became a very normal activity. At the guesthouses we got to know each other, shared our tables, meals, and a few good stories. It also became a chance for the guides (all friends) to debrief with each other. In the days that followed (all under a blanket of blue) we continued putting one foot in front of the other climbing higher and higher enjoying the panoramic mountain views and the magic of the villages along the way - Dharapani to Koto, Chame to Pisang and eventually Pisang to the ear popping cooler village of Manang sitting 3500 meters above sea level.

It was here that we spent two nights and a full day resting up allowing our bodies to acclimatize for what was yet to come. It's at this part in the story where I'll sign off leaving you with a few more images that'll hopefully give you a clearer picture of the Annapruna circuit up to Manang.

                                                       
                  EVERYTHING IS CARRIED EITHER BY DONKEY, SMALL HORSE OR                                                            
                                     ON THE BACKS OF THE MOUNTAIN PEOPLE                
 

                         
                                                                       EVERYTHING

                                     

                                 NO LOONEY TOONS OR TREEHOUSE TV FOR THESE KIDS

PRAYER WHEELS WITH SACRED MANTRAS







                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

                                              A BUDDHIST STUPA OR TEMPLE

















                 WORKING THE LAND    







I CAME ACROSS THESE STUDENTS STUDYING FOR FINAL EXAMS AND FOUND IT STRANGE THAT THEY WERE ALL READING OUT LOUD

                                                     IT'S EITHER UP OR DOWN
                                           

                                                    TYPICAL GUESTHOUSE KITCHEN

                                                        PART TWO IN A COUPLE DAYS

Serendipity

                                                                     ANGKOR WAT

After months of non stop travel through southeast Asia I started to notice signs this nomadic wanderer was becoming a touch road weary. My energy and general sense of well being had unraveled and was at a low. I was in need of a break which is fairly normal for anyone who travels for extended periods.
When exploring and appreciating the profound beauty and the rich diversity of another country a person will occasionally have to deal with a few black snake's in the grass (the flip side or down side) and my energy level being a little low was definitely turning into one of those little black snakes.
As a backpacker always on the move and operating on a bit of a shoe string budget it's not always easy to find a healthy balance. Sometimes the diet suffers, rough overnight bus or mini van rides can cause sleep deprivation, arduous slow boat journeys that take days and leave the body numb and muscles desperately crying to be worked, many nights staying in dark windowless guest houses in areas that stay loud late into the night and wake up far to early are a constant, and having to deal with the daily barrage of people either trying to eek out a living or like myself just observing and moving through takes its toll leaving a person physically and emotionally exhausted.
It's in these experiences of delight and adversity that our stories of adventure find there life, and it's also where we become
acquainted with the deep fatigue that settles in over time causing stress or sickness and taking the fun out of it all. I had just spent a week exploring the mystery of what can only be described as the exquisite other worldly ruins of Angkor Wat on the outskirts of Siem Reap, Cambodia when I made the decision to find my sanctuary, a place to nest and recharge. I was still enjoying myself but could feel the telling signs my shell was starting to thin.
My idea was to find a spot by a beach where I
could swing in a hammock, eat delicious food, sip
strong morning coffee and entertain myself by
journal writing and pass the time reading a thick novel. I'd heard a rumor the Island of Ko Chang, Thailand was such a place. With its beautiful sandy beaches and clean inexpensive accommodation it sounded like the perfect place to hang my hat and get myself back on track.
I booked myself a seat on a bus leaving Siem Reap the following morning and if all went well I'd be exchanging buses at the Poipet border crossing later that afternoon then traveling south to Ko Chang. Easy peasy!


Interesting thing about the highway between Siem Reap and the Poipet border crossing into Thailand is that it's not paved or at least it wasn't at the time I traveled it. Because of this the road conditions are always iffy, it could either make for a very hot dusty trip or if during the rainy season an unbelievably muddy experience. I was told by Mike a traveling road warrior from the US who was also on the bus that day the reason the government of Cambodia never paved this stretch of highway was because everyone would start driving the distance and the airlines would take a financial hit. There could be some truth in that because there's no inexpensive way to fly out or into Cambodia. Most back packers like myself choose to go over land rather then pay upwards of $400 USD to fly from Siem Reap to Bangkok. As it turns out I was there during the rainy season and that particular year (07) it was especially wet.
The morning I left Siem Reap the bus was already an hour  behind schedule but that didn't matter because I had a couple of hours to wait for my connection once we got to the border anyway.


Other than hitting the occasional bump that would get the back end of the bus kangarooing everything went smoothly and we seemed to make good time. That is until we came up behind a long line of slow crawling traffic that eventually forced us to come to a stop. It was obvious everyone traveling on the highway that day was having troubles navigating the slippery gumbo conditions created by the weather. I'm sure driving or walking must have felt like being on a wet bar of Ivory soap. We'd sit for a time, slowly move ahead a little, then we would sit again until our driver got us as far as the situation would allow eventually having to stop completely and turn the engine off. There was a major traffic jam up ahead that involved a number of larger heavier highway rigs. They had created super deep ruts in the gumbo like mud and gotten bogged down. There was no way we'd be getting through until it was cleaned up. No one was moving except pedestrian traffic, scooter's and rice paddy tractors.
Over the next four hours I sat in the bus cultivating patience while observing the people of Cambodia migrating past.
A couple times Mike and I got off to stretch our legs and backs and watched everything from the side of the road.


As the hours passed from late morning well into the afternoon it become apparent watching the people and vehicles cautiously making their way along on what could hardly be called a highway to us living in the west that this was a very normal undertaking, no big deal really. A slight inconvenience but one they'd been experiencing for a lifetime. It was another day, just part of the interwoven fabric of life in Cambodia. I also realized that too much time had elapsed while we'd been sitting there waiting and I'd be lucky to make my connection with the bus at the border. This wasn't a total surprise. Since I began my travels in southeast Asia a few things had become quite clear to me. One of those was realizing I didn't have any control over anything. Plans were always subject to change, and in my case usually did and at that point I was getting use to it. When we did manage to get rolling again everyone on the bus beamed from ear to ear knowing we were moving closer to our destination. It was late when our bus finally pulled into the Poipat border crossing and it was there I had a choice to make.


Either book into a guesthouse and wait until the next day to catch a bus that would take me to Ko Chang or travel the next 3 hours to Bangkok.
Earlier in the day Mike and I had shared a few of our travel stories and he mentioned if I was looking to find a restful place to turtledown for a time I should seriously consider a small town in the northern mountains of Thailand called Pai.
I would have to catch a 12 hour overnight train out of Bangkok to the city of Chiang Mai then it would be another 3 hours further north through the mountains to get there. Truth is I really didn't want to spend the evening in Poipat, there was something about the place that didn't feel right so the choice was easy.
I boarded the connecting bus and continued on with Mike to Bangkok. Another thing I found when traveling through Asia was how serendipitous life could be. Seemed whenever I was moving from that place of intuition and trust everything always fell into place and work out for the better. That night my choice to continue on to Bangkok and then a few days later into the northern mountain country and small community of Pai confirmed this.

Pai not only turned out to be the perfect place for me to rest up but over the years has offered me a quiet comfort and many friendships. It has literally become my second home. When I think about that muddy stretch of highway in Cambodia, sharing stories with Mike from the US, missing my connecting bus to the Island and making the choice to continue through to Bangkok and onward, I'm grateful for the way it turned out.




                                             
                                             
                                         

                                                     

                                                 
























                                             
                                             
                                                     

                                                                   

Shiver me timbers part two

The morning captain E and I departed the womb like safety of the Island that we'd been towed to a few days earlier the sun was up casting a crimson hue and the sea expanded and contracted like it was resting and breathing softly. I was feeling a mix of lightheartedness and healthy apprehension as that first day on the water hadn't completely slipped into the dark void of my memory yet.
Unlike our previous start, other than the occasional light breeze there was virtually no wind at all.
E wanted to sail away from the island, so we hoisted the main and allowed whatever light winds we could catch to gently pull us out away from the Island and eventually into the bigger water.
It was slow going as the morning hours bobbed and weaved there way into the afternoon and during this time our world on the water became very quiet, and unusually still. It was apparent that our learning for the day had something to do with the virtue of patience, and as we passed the time waiting for wind to fill the sails I was lulled into a very relaxed trance like state from the gentle rocking motion of the boat. There was a surreal, almost otherworldly feel to our situation, the sky and sea melded together becoming one, even the distant mountain landscape took on a beautiful deep cobalt blue and everything blended as if we had entered a thick blue nebula of some kind. On occasion the sail would flutter or catch a short wind gust and we'd be pulled along until it would loose its momentum leaving Oceans Ark to settle its weight into simply rocking back and forth with small blue waves licking and lapping at its sides and us not really moving at all. Talk about going from one extreme into another.
E and I spent the complete day and well into the evening honing our skills in patience before the welcomed stronger N/W winds showed up again. That was around 4:00 the following morning.

Once we had completed our crossing to Santa Rosalia we continued sailing south with the stronger winds at our back, riding good size swells and averaging around 6 knots. We even had Oceans Arc up to 9 knots and 10 knots a few times. Captain E gave me plenty of time at the helm to better understand how to operate the boat. The tacking back and forth to stay the course, finding the wind and working the rudder and sails to get the boat speed up so we could surf the larger swells not only gave me a sense I was making a contribution but helped replace ideas of what could go wrong with the enjoyment of being there in the moment.

In the days after departing from the Island I started to understand what the attraction was for those who like to sail. When things are going right in the world of sailing it can be a full on physical undertaking as well as a spiritual journey.  I found something else very special that could even be considered spiritual by some in those first few days across. It was always a highlight at the end of a good day of wrestling with the elements to sail into a sheltered bay, drop anchor, go for a swim, or fishing, and enjoy an evening barbecue and beer while listening to Canucks Hockey on Serious Satellite radio. Can't think of a better prayer or way to give thanks than that!

                                           OCEANS ARK ANCHORED AT AUGA VERDE


The day we sailed out of the bay at Caleta De San Juan we were content and up for what would be a 40 mile sail to Puerto Escondido. There's more than one Puerto Escondido in Mexico, this was the much smaller one on the east coast of the Baja peninsula.
We hoisted the main sail, then the jib and mizzen sails and after a few hours found we were making  good time pushing around 6.5 knots and by noon we'd covered a distance of around 20 miles.
The wind conditions had really started to pick up and by noon the north westerly was a strong 30 knots and the swells and rollers had grown exponentially. Despite these conditions and being a little nervous, the sun was up, the wind was making for good sailing, and E and I were focused and enjoying ourselves. Just as everything had came together and been going smoothly, in a breath, and a heart beat it all fell apart. This time it was E at the helm and riding a good size roller when the chain inside the binnacle stand snapped. Yes we'd lost our steering again, only this time the conditions (our situation) was much worse. We were in stronger winds, much bigger water, and no one was around. We were in big trouble and we both knew it!
For a spit second all we could do is stare at each other in complete disbelief then as the boat lurched sideways and the wave train started it's assault causing the boat to start rocking heavy E quickly made a dive for the galley to radio in a may day. We had dropped the jib and the mizzen sails earlier so just the main sail was up. I frantically crawled my way to where I could bring it down and secured it without being thrown into the water. Not easy to move on a boat when the winds are 30+ knots and the swells and rollers so deep every time the boat goes in one, the sun disappears.
I immediately felt nauseous from the roller coaster motion and found it difficult moving around the boat. When on a boat and in that place of being physically sick even the smallest tasks become a major undertaking. It's like being kind'a paralyzed.
E parlayed on the radio for a time giving our longitude and latitude, size of the boat, how many were on the boat and other information requested. When he was done we put the mizzen sail up and that turned the boat into the waves so it wasn't so unbalanced. We dug out our passports and wallets, secured them in plastic bags and started the uncomfortable wait for the rescue vessel to come to our aid and give us a tow. After what seemed like an eternity of being thrown around E looked at me and said "Brian I don't think anyone is coming" and as much as I didn't want to agree with him I knew he was right.
I think had we been off the coast of Canada or the USA and put in a distress call under those extreme conditions we would have had the coast guard or numerous other larger vessels coming to our aid straight away but where we were situated on that day in Mexican waters there was a 50/50 chance anyone would show. So it was with this ugly, frightening, hopeless reality with no blame for anyone or any system we reluctantly got busy. We'd certainly been there before and knew full well what needed to be done but I guess what made it that much harder was knowing how long it took us to do the job in good conditions.
E and I spent the rest of that afternoon struggling to take things apart, repair and put them back together again all the while being completely bullied, beat up and body slammed.
The driving wind and deep swells had been relentless and seemed to just increase so that by the time we'd repaired and put the steering back together we had drifted 8 miles.
We were both physically, and emotionally bankrupt when the sun had dropped behind the coastal mountains and blackness started to settle in around us.
E turned the engine over, we held our breath and kept our fingers crossed as he slowly, gently eased Oceans Ark around to begin a slow putt the last 13 miles to Puerto Escondido.
We were glad to be moving again but also extremely anxious as we were completely unsure and didn't trust the cable to chain steering anymore.
It didn't help that a violent black sea and raging wind seemed more intense at night.
I don't think I'll ever forget looking back at E as he stood at the helm motoring those final miles. Seeing the hugh mountainous black 15 and 20 foot swells that would build up behind us then they'd break with that silver white force that would roll in behind, lifting Oceans Ark up and surging us forward. Talk about being like a flea on the back of an elephant.
Once we rounded the point and were in the calmer waters of Puerto Escondido we both felt an enormous wave of relief wash over us, but it wasn't until we'd found our spot and anchored that we were able to really let down our guard and relax some. I was numb, we both were. We'd just come away from an experience that left us sore, hungry, badly weather beaten, literally exhausted and happy to be alive.

                                                             THE WAITING ROOM

The next day while I rested my spirit and gave thanks to my guides I reflect about our adventure the previous day and what could have literally been our demise. It was easy to see the hard lessons learnt and the most important of these being - Know the weather forecast before going out - "ALWAYS" Had we checked that morning before leaving Caleta De San Juanico who knows we might have decided to wait it out. Couldn't recall why we didn't find out!
I think I can speak for E as well as me in saying we also discovered something about each other during the ordeal, how could you not! We needed to be on the same page and work together no matter how uncomfortable and stressful it was and despite both of us loosing it on occasion we stayed focused, met the challenge and with a little luck thrown in were able to complete the task and get to safety. Most of this was because of E, a total stand up guy through the whole ordeal,  he was radically present, took charge when he needed to, and in my eyes was really deserving the title " Captain" from then on.

Captain E and I spent a number of days anchored in the Waiting Room not only waiting for the wind to  subside but also to nourish our bruised bodies and fractured spirits back to health again. The second day there we decided to take the dingy to shore to pick up supplies, do laundry, and clean up. This was my first time off the boat since leaving San Carlos Guaymas a couple weeks earlier so it was a little odd to walk on the earth and feel the sway of the ocean at the same time.  The full on hot shower at the marina and the conversations with other people again was also a delight and very much appreciated. Nothing like a little hot water to wash away the layers of old anxiety and sea salt and some warm conversation to help put everything into perspective again.
After a number of days we parted company with The Waiting Room crew and continued our sail south toward La Paz, our journey's end. Along the way we discovered many beautiful protected bays, friendly locals, boaters from all over the world and outstanding landscapes and color.
When we did eventually arrive in La Paz it was a couple days before Christmas.
E and I were happy to have made our destination and excited for what was next to come.
I'd be off exploring the Pacific side of mainland Mexico (by land) and Captain E would be off on an adventure of his own. We replaced the cable to chain steering once again, only this time it was done the way we should have done it in the first place, with a new chain and not just replacement links and after a few more barbecues and a relaxing Christmas we wished each other a safe journey and said our good byes.

                                              CHRISTMAS MORNING DOLPHINS

Shiver me timbers

I'm sure those fortunate enough to have explored Baja Mexico from the Sea of Cortez would agree with me when I say it's wild arid beauty is an absolute feast for the senses.
Whether sailing a boat, paddling a kayak, or even for those navigating dusty old roads to get to the coast, most who end up there discover a rich spirited land that speaks in volumes.
Bright warm sunshine, the turquoise water caressing long unoccupied stretches of white sandy beaches, wind sheltered bays lined with flowering dark green cactus, yucca, and other small shrubs,
and everything seen with a back drop of burnt almond and mustard colored mountains that reflect shades of pink and crimson whenever the sun comes up or goes down.
This tiny spot on our little blue planet has an energy that reminds me of a Sergio Leone movie where it's always high noon, always enchanting and if a person is looking to stir up a quieter sense of adventure it becomes an easy choice.

I had the opportunity to travel there in 2008 and give a friend a hand working on his sail boat.
Oceans Ark the 37 foot Challenger Catch had been in dry dock for a number of years and our plan (a loose plan) was to get the boat sea worthy and go sailing afterwords.
I'd never sailed before much less worked on a boat so this undertaking was completely new, and also strangely exciting with the promise of a good sailing adventure yet to come.
There was lots to do, much to learn, and Captain E and I were both up for the challenge.

Now writing a play by play on everything that happened preparing Oceans Ark for launch day could make for a long story, so I'll keep this part brief. For a full month E and I worked a steady eight hours a day. We replaced, refitted, repaired, cleaned sails, and wiped everything down (more than once).
Painted, stained, buffed, travelled to other towns to get things needed, downloaded sailing charts,  packed gallons of water, dealt with holding tanks, and in between doing all this there were those smaller cosmetic jobs that also take time but never get mentioned.
Just staying hydrated and healthy in the intense San Carlos Guaymas heat was a full time job.
Getting the boat ready was a lot of hard work so the morning Oceans Ark was slowly wheeled down and placed in the water we were both more than just a little happy about what we'd accomplished, we were ecstatic like giddy children on Christmas eve or the last day of school before summer holidays. We were also exhausted from the hours of work leading up to this day and anxious for the next stage of the adventure.
The decision was made to push off as quickly as we could, as there were a number of other boats being launched that morning and unless renting a spot to berth, the space we were holding could become an
issue.

                                                                    Oceans Ark


We were preparing to make our departure when an old sea faring gentleman walked down the dock and as he came along side our boat he stopped and inquired "are you going out or coming in"?
E replied "we're just leaving"! With an odd look and a slight hint of concern in his voice the man told us the winds were going to be a strong north westerly of 25 to 30 knots, he then slowly turned and made his way back up the dock. E had checked the conditions earlier and didn't seem all that troubled because we weren't going to be doing a major crossing. The plan was to anchor in the shelter of an island that was an hour away if we sailed and half that time if we used the engine.
We slowly motored out of the marina into open water beaming from ear to ear happy to finally be away on our journey and after ten minutes cut the engine and hoisted the main sail to get a feel for Oceans Ark under wind power, it had literally been years for E and never for me.
Tacking in a wind that was up and blowing hard was difficult and after a couple unsuccessful attempts to bring the boat to the starboard side E decided to hoist the head sail or jib to help get some speed up and asked me to take the helm. OK why not, I had to learn so may as well get to it!
I put myself behind the wheel, he got busy rigging up the jib, and this is when everything took a turn for the worst and went sideways.
While E was on the bow being tossed around like a stiff legged drunk I was working at tacking the boat to the starboard side. Everything was going well until the loud heavy "THUNK" and the sound of something letting go inside the binnacle stand.
That deep "THUNK" sound seemed to drop straight into the pit of my stomach and the feeling that surfaced screemed whatever just happened wasn't good!
In the next moment I realized it was worse than not good, we'd lost our steering!
I shouted "Hey E we've just lost our steering" and to elaborate I gave the wheel a quick spin like I was running a casino game out of Vegas. Only this wasn't a game!
E looked at me with eyes that I swear grew to the size of silver dollars.
He raced the length of the boat ducking and weaving around shroud cables and turnbuckles and in the five seconds it took him to cover the distance the realization we actually didn't have any control and were in big trouble set in.
Black jagged rocks jutting out from the coastline like gut crunching teeth, the strong relentless wind, and the deep dark waves all of a sudden seemed much bigger, stronger, and deeper.
In a wave of panic E jumped into the galley and called the marina with "Mayday, mayday!" (We didn't have a secondary source for steering). I ran to the bow only now it was me who was the stiff legged drunk grappling and hooking myself onto things trying to bring the headsail back down and not get thrown into the drink in the process.
While on the radio E thought to drop the anchor and once it grabbed hold and the boat stop drifting he cancelled the mayday.
We were in a bad spot unable to move and anyone coming into or leaving the marina would have to make sure they gave us a wide berth. It was a good thing the weather conditions were keeping most boaters off the sea which in itself begged the question - what exactly were we doing out there?
The waves and wind pounding the boat tossed us like a dog picks up a mitt and shakes it around and those brave smiles for adventure that had stretched across our faces only thirty minutes earlier disappeared completely.
Personally I wanted E to radio back to the marina and ask for a tow to a safe stable place and suggested it. There was resistance in him to doing this as he felt this could be a rough tactic to perform at the time but he did phone the marina and asked for a berth for the following morning.
A couple hours of being in those conditions is one thing especially for a guy who's never sailed before but being in it for one complete afternoon and night made it a very challenging experience.
It wasn't as though we just sat there either.
We got busy right away trying to understand what happened and what was needing to be fixed.
After a number of hours of wrestling with overly tight screws and bolts snapping tools in the process  we discovered the steering chain (much like a motorcycle chain) had broken and couldn't be repaired until we were back on shore where we could get the parts (links) needed. It would have been almost impossible to re jig everything into place in those conditions even if we'd had the parts.

                                                     The binnacle without the Helm


So there we were the next morning two very tired discouraged sailors still anchored in the throws of strong N/W winds accompanied by good size rollers, heads heavy from very little rest, hungry because we were unable to eat, (probably a good thing) feeling completely unbalanced and out of sorts.
E changed his mind about being towed into the marina, instead his new plan of action was to put the dingy into the water, tie a tow line to Oceans Ark and pull us the distance to the safe shelter of the Island.
It would be an assumption, a total projection on my part as to why E didn't want to return to the safety of the marina to repair the steering but it had become quite evident he was really wanting to avoid going that route. I had voiced what I thought we should do the day before and left it at that.
I can't say I was happy with this new plan. No in truth I was quite uncomfortable with the way the picture was unfolding.
STRONG WINDS, BIG HEAVY SEAS, TWO NOVICE SAILORS = IMPENDING DOOM!
Pulling/towing a 37 foot sailboat in a 25/30 knot headwind with a 7.5 horsepower outboard strapped to the back of a feather craft of a dingy was unsettling to say the least.
We dropped the dingy into a very choppy sea, and E nervously made his way over the side and down into it.
After carefully passing him the outboard he tied the dingy in where he wanted it, I pulled up the anchor and E turned the throttle on full to try to get things moving.
Well everything began moving alright, straight towards shore and those jagged shiny black teeth jutting out of the water.
Even at full throttle the wind and waves were far too strong and because E was facing open water and couldn't see how close we were getting to the rocks, the panic of being powerless to the elements had once again taken hold reminding me just how quickly things could get out of hand.
The situation was quickly slipping into complete and utter pandemonium when a large sports fishing vessel came cruising out of the marina. Not sure if it was taking a charter out or where it was going,  didn't matter to me. It was a big white fiberglass angel and we were floundering big time and needing help.
So there I was first waving one arm then frantically waving both my arms to get their attention and just like that they were motoring up beside us and within a couple minutes we were hooked to their stern being towed to the protected bay of the Island two miles away! Yes believe it or not, E asked that they drop us there.
At that point it didn't matter which way we were going, just getting away from those grinning jagged black rocks, the driving wind and the pounding waves was a huge relief.
Once we arrived in the protected waters of the Island, it was with huge gratitude we thanked and said our goodbyes to the charter boat owner,  dropped anchor and rested quietly for the rest of the morning absorbing the calm and processing everything that had happened in the past 24 hours.

The raw reality of what can happen on a sail boat, and how quickly things can spiral out of control was very fresh and left me unsure, giving serious thought what the next month on the Sea of Cortez might look like for E and myself.
We'd only just started this journey and having to deal with such extreme conditions straight away took me way past the edge of my comfort zone. You could say I had the wind knocked out of my sails!
Funny now snicker, chortle, not so much then!
Being in the sheltered safety and comfort of the Island was literally euphoric and over the following week we continued to relax and eventually found our rhythm again.
We enjoyed the sun, E fished, I swam, and the steering was eventually repaired, which I might add was a lot more work than first thought.
As the days passed so did the nervous residue from our first day out, we found our confidence again and started discussing the open water crossing to the Baja.
Everything was ready, we were ready, it was just a matter of waiting for the right weather conditions,
the right day.

I think this might a good spot to end this segment (part one) of my Baja Adventure.
I'll continue with part two in a couple days.....  you'll never guess what happens!