|Windy and I aboard the first|
Del Viento, early 1997, motoring
along the then undeveloped Cabo beach.
I’m 45 years old and exploring the Sea of Cortez’s islands and Baja aboard our 40-foot sloop. I take in and process the beauty and wonder of this place and I can’t get away from an awareness that my impressions are simultaneously dulled and heightened by my past.
I’ve been here before, age 31, in a small plane, an engagement ring hidden in my pocket. She said yes, on the beach of Punta Chivato. I was here in my late 20s too, aboard the previous Del Viento, with my girlfriend, Windy. We came up only as far as the islands north of La Paz before we crossed the Sea for Mazatlan and continued on to Panama and eventually, Florida. I was here as a teen, again and again in my folks’ small plane, landing on sandy strips that would be awash with the tide hours after we touched down. We’d siphon fuel through a chamois and eat huevos rancheros that made my mouth sing.
For thirty years this peninsula has woven in and out of my life. Today, as we sail around and I watch my girls process all of the Baja I am able to show, I share snippets of memory with them as places emerge familiar. It is a cruising ground both exotic and familiar. Is it any wonder we're here?
|Also 1997, sitting on our Avon Redcrest in front of the |
Hotel Palmilla before crashing the pool, San Jose del Cabo.
|Still 1997, Windy swimming with a sea lion at|
Los Islotes, just north of La Paz.
|Windy newly engaged, 1998, Punta Chivato.|
|Sailing a friend's Lido 14, Punta Chivato, 1997.|
|With my dad, 1993, Bahia San Luis Gonzaga.|
|With my dad, 1988, Punta Chivato.|
|Sometime in the mid-1980s, plane touching down on the airstrip,|
Bahia San Luis Gonzaga.
|Me, 1997, aboard the first Del Viento, La Paz waterfront in the|