Sow's Ear, Silk Purse

January 2007


Appearances are important. Perhaps more so here in Mexico.






With perverse pleasure over years, I parried people's thrusts about Anya's hull condition with wit not action. I called her blotchiness 'camoflage' or said she has just the slightest touch of leprosy or syphilis. I jokingly tried to shift blame to Felicity by telling the story about the 'idiot proof' gelcoat repair caper. But really Anya needed a hull job. That would be my task.

Cruiser wisdom has it that you buy a two week supply of beer and sit in the lawnchair in the boatyard while watching over the workers as they do the job. My wisdom tells me that I could not tell if they were screwing me so why bother. Cold north winds were blowing in La Paz. Warm friends, waters and beaches waited for me down in Melaque and Barra de Navidad. So Anya was abandoned to the workers and I to Melaque.


Thus began over two weeks of cerveza, concerts, extravaganza's. Fred and Judy (right and left) proved to be wonderful navigators of the day and night lives of Melaque, Barra de Navidad, La Manzanilla and environs. They introduced me to, amongst others, a sort-of-Captain Canuck, also of Rooster's fame, alleged brother Gary and his charming wife Joyce. And the adventure ratcheted up a notch.


Between night times there were beaches and exploring the terrestrial environment.




One day in neighbouring La Manzanilla I stumbled across David and Jo, defiant 'trailer trash', formerly from my dock in Cowichan Bay and now nearest neighbours (about 100 metres down the beach) of these Jurassic brutes.








Cowichan Bay friends took me to nighttime Rodeos with dancing horses and bull riding. Late one night we stumbled into an event later discovered to be cockfights. We wheeled and fled, Canadian sensibilities still intact.



But Anya was calling me. I bused north, took the Topolobompa ferry across the sea and ended up back in La Paz, in a slightly blue and bulgey haze. There I lay eyes on my glamous boat, Anya, now a silk purse.