How thirsty can a bee be?

Having only just learned how to relax again, we threw all those lessons out the window. Instead of hanging out in one location for a period of time, we found ourselves in seven different anchorages over the course of two weeks. On the plus side, they were all quite close to each other, making those travel days pretty light. This kept me in a good enough mood as we explored the Los Animas and Bahia de los Angeles areas. So short were all the hops that we never even bothered to raise a sail, instead choosing to leave our shade tent in place over our very exposed cockpit.

We anchored in a variety of locations; one with complete wild solitude, then an abandoned fishing camp, an abandoned resort, a bee and wasp haven, a bar on a beach, and lastly the town of Bahia de los Angeles where we did one final resupply of fresh foods before our haul-out date coming up. Each had their pros and cons, but they were all beautiful in one way or another. A short spell of relaxation, and a realization that we could postpone our plans to make a quick hop to Vegas to put our relationship in ink, made a serious dent in the stresses we have both been feeling as of late. Alleviated of it all, we I was able to enjoy day to day life a whole lot more. We dropped in to the “attraction” of individual anchorages, staying a night or two in each place and finding a nice groove again. Lots to see and explore.

One anchorage we visited twice; Puerto Don Juan – once on the way in to Bahia de los Angeles and once on the way out. Don Juan offered 360 degrees of protection from the wind, and the wind does like to kick up each afternoon in this area. It was really the only anchorage with any sort of protection, so we opted to use it when the forecast came with any color to the model.

The only issue with Don Juan was that we were surrounded by bees and wasps who would venture the enormous distance to our boat to see if we had any fresh water laying about. In fact, we had bees and wasps at our boat before we even dropped anchor both times. The first visit, we she took the advice of some random person in the internet and left a small bowl of water out on deck for so all the commotion would happen there, and we could do things on the other side of the boat. That one tiny bowl turned into a second jar, then a third larger bowl of water. In total, roughly a half-gallon of water was consumed – in under an hour – by flying insects. We watched from the protection of our screened windows. It was amazing and startling just how much they could drink. If one were to leave our wet laundry, each garment would be bone dry within 30 minutes.

We returned to Don Juan after our visit to the town (once again, not a single photo of civilization) for fresh foods. We did not make the same mistake with the bees. They will have to survive without a handout from us from here on.

Now, I know I dangled a carrot above, but let me just clear that up. Yes, Kerri and I are planning to marry. Neither of us want to be married, but the realities of traveling abroad on a boat sort of dictates it. There are no guarantees that, if one of us were injured, the other would even be allowed to visit in a hospital, let alone making medical decisions for the other as an unmarried couple. Even the boat, our only home, could be held from the surviving member if a death occurred. Each country is different, but even in America an unmarried couple of 8+ years has less rights than a married couple of only a single day. So, we are simply planning ahead. It is not a big deal.

Kerri speak;

Sitting outside for sundowners in the cockpit, in just about as remote a place as you can set anchor in the northern Gulf of California, watching the sunset light up the ever-changing landscape under a near-full moon, our conversation turned again to what I call “awe fatigue” — what the experts call the hedonic treadmill.

After dozen years of being surrounded by the best that nature has to offer, we have to consciously remind ourselves to be present to it. We’d both agree, that though we struggled with it, too, in our land travels, the ability to get from the desert to the mountains or sea in a day’s drive could jolt us back into awareness with drastic changes to our senses. In a boat, the charges are so subtle, like watching a loved one age.

In a couple of weeks, we’ll be doing something neither of us have done in over a decade. When we haul out, we’ll be renting a very modest little furnished apartment in Puerto Peñasco for about four months, while we renew our visas, visit friends and family in the states, and work on boat projects. The longest I’ve lived any time outside of my moving homes in the past dozen years was a two-week housesitting stint. The main motivator for the apartment rental is access to air conditioning in the peak of Sonoran summer. But we expect it to also have the added bonus of resetting our awe meter once we splash in Fall. Just a couple weeks ago, I was regretting how close we are to hauling out, wanting to hang onto this summer on the sea for every last minute, but now I’m feeling ready for that upcoming transition.