tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65865323141703178522024-03-13T06:12:31.536-07:00Savage AdventuresIf it's not one thing, it's another.breezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15651424429734589118noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6586532314170317852.post-42186161538873263232015-03-09T14:45:00.000-07:002015-11-05T07:48:04.488-08:00A Trip to Beautiful La Paz, BCS, Mexico<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: #660000;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #660000;"></span></span></span><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Did you ever dream of visiting a faraway place and then when you finally get there you realize your fantasy does not match the local reality? Like the dirty swimming pool in the Florida resort, the stinky hotel in the Hamptons or the ugly side of beautiful San Diego. Well, I have been fantasizing about La Paz for years. An oasis of peace and harmony in a country where drug cartel violence is in the news every month. Could it really be true? Could it be as nice as it sounded.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yes.</span></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sunday, January 25th:</span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Flying out of Chicago, they had to de-ice the wings of the plane. A few hours later those same wings were basking in the late afternoon sun at the San José Del Cabo airport. Outside the terminal, the friendly people at Eco Baja Tours made the bus to La Paz turn around and come back to get me. How cool is that? I was liking the vibe already.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The bus (really a cozy 8 passenger shuttle van) takes about 3-1/2 hours to get from Los Cabos to La Paz. They stop in the charming town of Todos Santos where you can stretch your legs and grab a snack (sólo cinco minutos). $500 pesos and a big tip for the U-turn.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I got to La Paz and stepped out of the bus terminal onto </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="st">Paseo Alvaro Obregon</span>. There it was, the famous Malecon—like a photograph that had suddenly come alive. I had been exploring all the streets using Google Earth "street view" for years. I imagined myself walking along the ocean, going up one street and down another, finding the mercados and the marinas. And now, all of a sudden it was real. The faint sounds of music and people talking and laughing together. A hint of Carne Asada wafting out of the Rancho Viejo fonda, mixed with the sweet and salty ocean air. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So there it was; "The Peace", the inspiration of Steinbeck's "The Pearl", the ocean, the people—the beautiful people. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Puerto de Ilusión.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnqd6OG0iTcAOMknc4AGtXNS_FiCZDg6h4ehZWFx5_jdigv3311l2aht-T-NeKof5rH5L5JYVq0Vwh7gaZ7VJpC5f8mx8IlQh-Initt3kU-qdKNnyOanA8sCywZWL4J7fMRFvC2tKA19M/s1600/20150125_182546.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnqd6OG0iTcAOMknc4AGtXNS_FiCZDg6h4ehZWFx5_jdigv3311l2aht-T-NeKof5rH5L5JYVq0Vwh7gaZ7VJpC5f8mx8IlQh-Initt3kU-qdKNnyOanA8sCywZWL4J7fMRFvC2tKA19M/s1600/20150125_182546.jpg" width="320" /></a>It had started to drizzle that first evening, while a peace-parade made its way down the street. The banners read "North, South, East, West: One Peace." The crowd is old and young, singles, couples and families with children of all ages. The mood is one of community unity. A sense of determination that nothing is going to spoil "The Peace". A belief that standing together as a solid community, aware of each other, they will not suffer the violence that has rocked some northern border cities. "La Paz is your house" reminds a nearby billboard.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My hotel, Perla, is only 2 blocks from the bus terminal. It is the latest incarnation of a hotel that was there from the beginning. When there was only a small El Centro and a few buildings near the water. To me it is beautiful. Not too fancy, not too shabby, and not too touristy (</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps">sin demasiado</span> <span class="hps">turístico)</span></span>.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyzL7DoxhZC6HWyo7_D3EKVlGt1k7f3EtvS3Z1TjprKGWztmxNAc-KLbOehpR6qpmcH8-BceqbXz5T7V5Qu2SuL4begaSNX42eJaXD5OomlnObjA-nbcu6KME_kCX2ILX1ntGrO36Txv4/s1600/20150125_183426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyzL7DoxhZC6HWyo7_D3EKVlGt1k7f3EtvS3Z1TjprKGWztmxNAc-KLbOehpR6qpmcH8-BceqbXz5T7V5Qu2SuL4begaSNX42eJaXD5OomlnObjA-nbcu6KME_kCX2ILX1ntGrO36Txv4/s1600/20150125_183426.jpg" width="400" /></a>The hotel room makes me smile—the stone in the bathroom is the same travertine I have been working with at home all year. I wonder if they got it at Home Depot like I did? Just like the cantina attached to the hotel, there is no door from the street. Just an elegant staircase to the second floor reception area. Everywhere you look there are people cleaning, sweeping, polishing and wiping. They seem to have a great sense of pride in their work. Later, I would realize that the whole city is constantly cleaning and sweeping and painting.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuhSTACmUekUPMl4X2cSJRFvIAyzXRUgT3E9drXomtHiQX-Jwyxo9XjUIdp-SxWkuY3k8SzWWl44YfQn3J7iIwyXP0GVOrJGUBgibhOb2ujpTTBALkqSPijYTCFnnMlLMMe_JP5SAPpp4/s1600/20150125_182801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuhSTACmUekUPMl4X2cSJRFvIAyzXRUgT3E9drXomtHiQX-Jwyxo9XjUIdp-SxWkuY3k8SzWWl44YfQn3J7iIwyXP0GVOrJGUBgibhOb2ujpTTBALkqSPijYTCFnnMlLMMe_JP5SAPpp4/s1600/20150125_182801.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8FeFHUPwUatyJiz8__HF5iLZIPGAPg7AHNDAQzCANrs0dZsj4W7hQPW93rawtbIuJsZKueLAniPg5sj-acZijZVfYQhRTkkzTrqdVXx1n926OsSOf1HADgmJ6tidCQNdtGnYqlNFCrPY/s1600/20150125_183524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8FeFHUPwUatyJiz8__HF5iLZIPGAPg7AHNDAQzCANrs0dZsj4W7hQPW93rawtbIuJsZKueLAniPg5sj-acZijZVfYQhRTkkzTrqdVXx1n926OsSOf1HADgmJ6tidCQNdtGnYqlNFCrPY/s1600/20150125_183524.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU1Io2nuZlz8HdTe5SIE3K5kIa4L8F7FWNQhvaXUtFBm5XaAZ8bjG2THFtUwscBcSi4OOqou-EXnomUA0GjHAJoxxZTABldPdLHUd0YiRaG_EuZ0qrgR2S3kJ8aug6EV2NjeOzMs27Ae0/s1600/20150125_183436.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU1Io2nuZlz8HdTe5SIE3K5kIa4L8F7FWNQhvaXUtFBm5XaAZ8bjG2THFtUwscBcSi4OOqou-EXnomUA0GjHAJoxxZTABldPdLHUd0YiRaG_EuZ0qrgR2S3kJ8aug6EV2NjeOzMs27Ae0/s1600/20150125_183436.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The hotel room is simple and clean. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The bed is awesome, and the bathroom feels like home with travertine 6 x 6 and 1 x 1 tiles. </span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgikQh360mUBl4yKczsiimC3g3I-4g2Ekukyi2E68PnMvehxzexiEJHKnQskb_uFhFXo-bIvBrG54qZuQPenT5Bnf9f1o_i5-1iSAWFIV_ljtu82X_jDKNfuvFUNwalgiQK1sNB4O0Z_Ig/s1600/20150125_195514.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgikQh360mUBl4yKczsiimC3g3I-4g2Ekukyi2E68PnMvehxzexiEJHKnQskb_uFhFXo-bIvBrG54qZuQPenT5Bnf9f1o_i5-1iSAWFIV_ljtu82X_jDKNfuvFUNwalgiQK1sNB4O0Z_Ig/s1600/20150125_195514.jpg" width="400" /></a>As part of his "Beautiful Baja" series from the "Mexico, One Plate At A Time" television program, chef Rick Bayless stopped in La Paz for dinner at Las Tres Vírgenes restaurant. Ever since then, I have been itching to see it in real life. It is about six blocks from the Malecon on Calle Madero. I go for the wood-grilled baby octopus. $10 US. Then a Caesar salad with gigantic local (as in super-fresh) shrimp.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkk-OLQ5Re2DavdrcQrSAO2TN9HZi4zL9yDscLy0Nbe0MRzWTUGlZ0knWkunjszUxxrAkOplhneITYF0cjU03UtrpF6OmsFPtT6vu8dU3sFUZmg9HDkHBE09nNET47ATn3TlYO7V1RDHc/s1600/20150125_201044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkk-OLQ5Re2DavdrcQrSAO2TN9HZi4zL9yDscLy0Nbe0MRzWTUGlZ0knWkunjszUxxrAkOplhneITYF0cjU03UtrpF6OmsFPtT6vu8dU3sFUZmg9HDkHBE09nNET47ATn3TlYO7V1RDHc/s1600/20150125_201044.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZeMe1kUCddDl7AgyOwKxFIKrPDuHFVm7Z_W0kDseLB0fZ0aWM5We_xxhZaUtfBTYAZ1fX9-XiTmQ1OaQiGMBvZDUIQOFiauhGTRIa9eQeWQ1WenJYXnOxOsa6UmhSwdcJ5pxX6WnT2ew/s1600/20150125_193315.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZeMe1kUCddDl7AgyOwKxFIKrPDuHFVm7Z_W0kDseLB0fZ0aWM5We_xxhZaUtfBTYAZ1fX9-XiTmQ1OaQiGMBvZDUIQOFiauhGTRIa9eQeWQ1WenJYXnOxOsa6UmhSwdcJ5pxX6WnT2ew/s1600/20150125_193315.jpg" width="300" /></a></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I believe that the Tres Vírgenes building was an old Colonial-era home with the typical interior courtyard. What a perfect building to be reborn as the most beautiful restaurant I have ever seen. I decide I need to come back again, but it is Sunday and they are closed on Mondays. I will have to wait two whole days. Luckily for me, there are MANY wonderful places to grab a bite.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDG2KomrtjG3d7WDOH_SNgA4a8Va_nFMZiM9Ap9WGRYOxeR9K_e2DzKgb66bJWw0qTpdY-5R0KUyksZTtmsKBDHjr1tXN_8ACBS9E4OYCZ3Yupgee1ODWoBxa2bq6E5CmN8kA3QHG6DjA/s1600/20150125_203251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDG2KomrtjG3d7WDOH_SNgA4a8Va_nFMZiM9Ap9WGRYOxeR9K_e2DzKgb66bJWw0qTpdY-5R0KUyksZTtmsKBDHjr1tXN_8ACBS9E4OYCZ3Yupgee1ODWoBxa2bq6E5CmN8kA3QHG6DjA/s1600/20150125_203251.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">On the way back to the hotel I take the quaint street called Constitucion. You can see from this photograph how the first few blocks of El Centro are at sea level, while the rest of the city is up on the hill. Late at night, alone on a dark alley-of-a -street in Mexico. I am not afraid. All around me are families with children of all ages, out for dinner or doing some late night shopping. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxWMKgpC1fIo5yI5Gv4coyHSZsJgsQAfhz3Lu184nksS23qfZW3N175IQ40hYNhlBaZ4DRK3ckZu-qsCX8bKtniLxaHkkFe7TQaDjrv7w78EoawHCs3BF1FjntdYXZJ0Bak3SN5U9JxiM/s1600/20150125_204825.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxWMKgpC1fIo5yI5Gv4coyHSZsJgsQAfhz3Lu184nksS23qfZW3N175IQ40hYNhlBaZ4DRK3ckZu-qsCX8bKtniLxaHkkFe7TQaDjrv7w78EoawHCs3BF1FjntdYXZJ0Bak3SN5U9JxiM/s1600/20150125_204825.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's late in the evening, but back on the Malecon there is still a crowd at Fuente's ice cream shop. I decide on a gelato made with mango and local raspberries. A flavor explosion. Walking next to the ocean as I enjoy this late night treat, I find it novel that the ocean walk (the Malecon) is still full of families with small children, teenagers and senior citizens, all walking and hanging out together.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">While locals are wearing sweaters and light jackets, I sleep with the patio doors wide open. At 70°, the local temperature qualifies as summer for someone from Wisconsin.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I drift off, trying to decide whether I want to watch English television with Spanish subtitles or Spanish television with English subtitles.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Even though the air is cool (by local standards it is the coldest day of the year) I cannot resist the beautiful Perla pool any longer. It is a surprise to learn that it is not heated at all. I try to play it cool (<span class="exB">¡tómatelo con calma! )</span> and pretend that I knew that all along, but it is FREEZING. Although, I would remind myself, it's still warm by Lake Michigan standards. Floating silently, staring up at the starry Baja sky, it is a magical moment. Could anything be more perfect? Well maybe a little less chlorine, guys. Wow.</span></span></div>
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Monday, January 26th</span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Monday I am up early and on the road to hook up with an expedition company that Heather recommended. They are West of the hotel, attached to one of the marinas. This trip is my first glimpse into the zoning differences here compared to back in the States. Any typical street in El Centro could have a high-end shoe store next to a rundown yard full of chickens, next to am expensive condo, next to a tiny fonda selling home-made breakfast treats. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGBGYVSVDJmLUtvKqDYQJ27kW7WiocQqYPLZF8eE2zIGWey-Tw1dXnMGRaynOzyLY_wDIRKHwpInmxtfoWUGEebFa8cKJQ8jVw_UzXq_zr17xpYs_cmhzHFDJ-TGnawM5XpQHufxviH_k/s1600/20150126_074938.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGBGYVSVDJmLUtvKqDYQJ27kW7WiocQqYPLZF8eE2zIGWey-Tw1dXnMGRaynOzyLY_wDIRKHwpInmxtfoWUGEebFa8cKJQ8jVw_UzXq_zr17xpYs_cmhzHFDJ-TGnawM5XpQHufxviH_k/s1600/20150126_074938.jpg" width="400" /></a>It had drizzled the night before and the Malecon was still wet when I started out. The "guys" from the hotel cantina invite me in for breakfast, but I am focused on exploring. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The heavy air is rich with smells: the sea, the blooming flowers and somewhere someone is grilling food. Early morning La Paz feels like Miami or Orlando, with the addition of roosters. Roosters near and faraway in the distance. Some barely trying and some in full symphonic intensity.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">El Cayuco is not open but it reminds you that the city is a wonderful place to get fresh gigantic seafood at hundreds of venues. Shrimp that taste better than any shrimp you have ever had before. The fact that so much stuff is "open air" still seems unusual. What do they do when it snows? Oh wait...it doesn't, ever.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The diving place Heather suggested is inside one of the three main marinas, just west of the downtown. They take my name and number but they will not go out to see the whale sharks until they have at least three people on the list. This is when I realize that this is the off-season in La Paz.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The marinas are beautiful, and full of expats who sailed down the California coast years ago and then never left.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The marinas are a mixture of boats from small to unbelievably large. Some with Spanish names and some in English. There is also a row of Pangas. Panga is the utility boat of choice in the local bay and even going out to the islands. They are an open boat about 20 feet long with a large deadrise to handle the waves. Many that you see driving around have a colorful sunshade on top. People use them for fishing, taking tourists out to see the whale sharks, para-sailing and just general getting around.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's still pretty early in the morning when I get back to the hotel, but I can't help it—I need to stop at La Fuente's for a paleta. The fruit-filled popsicles are a staple throughout Mexico with each region having its own favorites. For this early in the day, I go for a light and refreshing Sandia (watermelon) paleta. So refreshing. After I got back home, paletas became one of the things I missed about La Paz. The list of flavors is endless. The classics are fresh fruit, the deluxe versions are cremas (cream) like coconut cream and Key Lime pie. The newer hybrid variations match the explosion of contemporary Mexican cuisine—flavors like cactus and jalapeño, avocado and mint, and many more.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Along the Malecon are a series of beautiful sculptures, reflecting the city's connection to the sea: There is the mermaid, the humpback whale, the fisherman, the dolphin, the manta ray and others. La Paz also has a starring role in John Steinbeck's novel The pearl. Off shore, on Isla Espiritu Santos, there are still remnants of the old large-scale oyster bed operations.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I wandered for lunch and finally came across this charming fonda called Mariscos El Tio, </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">which
translates as Uncle Seafood. Uncle Seafood has a nice selection of
homemade tortas and tacos and I decide on their trio of Al Pastor tacos
with a bottle of tamarindos pop. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of the landmarks in El Centro is the cathedral. The official name is Misión Nuestra Señora del Pilar. It's classic colonial architecture and in fantastic condition. The grounds are immaculate as well. A hangout for senior men, meeting old friends, getting in a game of chess or checkers, catching up on the latest gossip, or just watching the world go by.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There are two large markets in el centro. One is on Nicolas Bravo and the other big on is on Francisco I Madero. They are both wonderful and full of life. You can find a hat or boots or a belt or a guitar. You can get a delicious meal, hand-made right infront of your eyes. There are spices and herbs and all sorts of clothes and housewares. Of course there are butchers and fish mongers. Fish so fresh it was caught that very morning and it's getting scaled and fileted that same day.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am tempted by a beautiful guitar...it's only about $70 US...but I manage to walk away.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's still Monday, 1/26. Tomorrow is my trip to the famous Playa Balandra. It's about 12 miles up the coast. I am so excited. Excited enough to forget that the Tres Virgenes restaurant is closed on Mondays. I trek all the way over there, noting that, if I had a car, there are plenty of great spots near the restaurant, and then I walk all the way back.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8sYgp5rqQbVMFZnI-O-vvc1-6QYgLqb8iscCWKbT3rFBwrz9vC4NfjgaCAIpve-uNsVpHmARdFEK3JlhRoGF58bhCexxYkSg8s8NVwGnAdJp6E89pXrAhHABEgzVEhS_ToCpn0HEdipI/s1600/20150126_193831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8sYgp5rqQbVMFZnI-O-vvc1-6QYgLqb8iscCWKbT3rFBwrz9vC4NfjgaCAIpve-uNsVpHmARdFEK3JlhRoGF58bhCexxYkSg8s8NVwGnAdJp6E89pXrAhHABEgzVEhS_ToCpn0HEdipI/s200/20150126_193831.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqbrNhp2oQ_C2j8Z57l5Y7oHeyaI5Dvicmp3ytByVbvyzLMA6hrX1CnLzBV1GFgCPbtXW6YdJMM7lKfBmVaupj1oxmWowh5N1JmKkNLB30HVlBRThhCGGUl6Elm-JRpdOjuy8_IUXbmHg/s1600/20150126_195214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqbrNhp2oQ_C2j8Z57l5Y7oHeyaI5Dvicmp3ytByVbvyzLMA6hrX1CnLzBV1GFgCPbtXW6YdJMM7lKfBmVaupj1oxmWowh5N1JmKkNLB30HVlBRThhCGGUl6Elm-JRpdOjuy8_IUXbmHg/s200/20150126_195214.jpg" width="200" /></a> Back at the hotel, I think I have quite an appetite so I order Queso Fundito AND a pizza, AND a beer. It was very good but I couldn't finish it. The staff at <span class="st">La
Terraza are wonderful. Their menu is "Mexican Specialties and Gringo
Favorites". Looking around, I see they do cater to an .....older crowd.
Dean Martin on the PA and lots of grey hair. But the gentlemen who work
there are super polite.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Good night La Paz. I am falling in love with you already and it's only been 2 days.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Tuesday 1/27/15</b></span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The "bus" to Balandra is another little airport sort of van. We stop at several spots along the way, picking up a few people at the resorts and a few at the ferry docks. The coolest thing about the beach is that, even though it is very popular with tourists and locals, there is NO development there. Just a guy with a truck selling snacks and drinks. I love it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> So I slipped my cell phone into its waterproof bag and went snorkling. It turned out that the trick to getting clear images was to remove the silicone camera case so the bag could lie tight up against the lens.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I snorkled around for hours, following small fish... and shuffling through the sand to avoid stepping on stingrays.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgywu18te6HxNtcEVovvjVzdmvzACLiOEkJlROoePr0du2j2mmrxEWsG_SHmSC6sy8dOR_R6m8R9ubukB195Q3AhHjuYd8Rne4HbW-HJ71xh1cur690RryqyFRNqCaqY6qapncYPUytoeg/s1600/20150127_110926.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgywu18te6HxNtcEVovvjVzdmvzACLiOEkJlROoePr0du2j2mmrxEWsG_SHmSC6sy8dOR_R6m8R9ubukB195Q3AhHjuYd8Rne4HbW-HJ71xh1cur690RryqyFRNqCaqY6qapncYPUytoeg/s320/20150127_110926.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> All the tourists who came to see the famous "Mushroom Rock" had the same reaction; they were surprised it was only about six feet high. It is an unusual formation, almost looking like rusty iron in places. All the rock there is a rough looking black and rust aggregate. Over time, the water has carved out great overhangs—the perfect places to relax out of the sun.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The sandy bay is huge, and surprisingly, is less than 2 feet deep all the way across.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There are places in the middle where you can sunbath in 6 inches of warm salty water.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Later I got the scoop—the stingrays are only there in the spring and summer. In January I had nothing to worry about.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There are only a half dozen times to catch the return bus back to La Paz, so I kept checking my watch.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I met a family from Victoria B.C. of all places. They were there every winter, on their sailboat. Then, when it started getting too hot for them in the summer, they hopped in the motorcoach and drove north. They had visitors with them from B.C. and they were showing off the beach. How weird to meet folks from back home in Canada.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I also met a woman from Israel who was traveling alone, just like me. La Paz was just a short stop for her on her worldwide journey.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Playa Balandra is indeed a magical place. Simple and beautiful. Calming and exciting all at the same time.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then back "home" to Perla in time to watch the sunset on La Paz bay. Did I make room for another paletta? Of course. Los Tamarindos. Yumm.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tomorrow would be my time to swim with the giant whale sharks. The wind had started to blow and it was scheduled to be stronger tomorrow. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I washed my shell collection and set it out on the balcony to dry. The beautiful brown and white striped pattern seems to be the trademark shell of the area.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">They tell me that people come from far away to see the famous La Paz sunsets. I must say, they were pretty reliable. A beautiful one almost every night.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Don't worry, I didn't forget. I was Tuesday night, time for my second visit to Las Tres Virgenes.The most beautiful restaurant I have ever seen. When I was there on Sunday it was raining so the main courtyard was closed. This time it was a beautiful evening. I had 3 different apps and finished with their signature flan. I mean, you can't go to Mexico without having flan.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj48mQ3o56aBqmO2v9O4i0YTpb1ByN3pVbIAh5AJKvF_dYq7BWf7LSyF50XmuqU6SYteGVZWn84qz96DS3hMBOs6lmEN0MhF7w017cuqO7e0Uns8N98d4mjmkvLCduW-Lmqsr9vFXv4Ri8/s1600/20150127_191559.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj48mQ3o56aBqmO2v9O4i0YTpb1ByN3pVbIAh5AJKvF_dYq7BWf7LSyF50XmuqU6SYteGVZWn84qz96DS3hMBOs6lmEN0MhF7w017cuqO7e0Uns8N98d4mjmkvLCduW-Lmqsr9vFXv4Ri8/s320/20150127_191559.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Smoked Baja Yellowtail Tacos:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Served with a black pepper sauce made with crema.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Rose Petal Quesadillas:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Manchego cheese, cilantro pesto, almonds and a strawberry sauce.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjGYPN1vw7Ra8CzYbkJeFBlqPYOZAuILYI1sMN4KbXxhWYi67Ly4wnwIVyXscD2m8mkhRiP3CUSzDL3pvKcSJ2Zc2W3bDYVwYliVftDwRrdSbI9Wv2SYbmZf9h5WCHIjUSuUB-AyEcsBU/s1600/20150127_192833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjGYPN1vw7Ra8CzYbkJeFBlqPYOZAuILYI1sMN4KbXxhWYi67Ly4wnwIVyXscD2m8mkhRiP3CUSzDL3pvKcSJ2Zc2W3bDYVwYliVftDwRrdSbI9Wv2SYbmZf9h5WCHIjUSuUB-AyEcsBU/s320/20150127_192833.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Especial de la casa: Flan. Delicate and delicious...and I don't even like flan.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Tuesday evening, January 27th.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Good night lovely La Paz.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The wind is getting stronger, just like the weather man predicted.</span></span><br />
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Wednesday morning January 28.</span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTGbFrLn2gu8waJ4FwgG__PO2nkP0LXSol69fhIVZWofhHWZ377xQgpm0WlRb8gxorK1Yof7_8obVg3wfg8KlZHBAzkAMlH0jbXi3XKeDFB34KUnC4-GxpxGwSVuJmqgcuJGL33WSyV-8/s1600/20150129_090032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTGbFrLn2gu8waJ4FwgG__PO2nkP0LXSol69fhIVZWofhHWZ377xQgpm0WlRb8gxorK1Yof7_8obVg3wfg8KlZHBAzkAMlH0jbXi3XKeDFB34KUnC4-GxpxGwSVuJmqgcuJGL33WSyV-8/s320/20150129_090032.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Today I am going out on a panga to swim with the whale
sharks, and then later on to Los Islotes to snorkel with the sea lions.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the Club Cantamar office I pick out a wet suit and fins
(I have my own snorkel with me).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
other passengers are a man from Chicago and his petite Filipino wife. Along
with them they have a newborn. A little girl probably no more than 3 months old
and probably no more than 8 pounds. I am surprised to learn that not only is
the wife coming along with us for the ride, but she is also going to bring the
baby and hold it in her arms the entire time.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We hop in the panga and pull away from the beach. It is
getting choppier and windier, as the TV weatherman predicted, but our guide is
optimistic that it will calm down as the day goes on. Our young captain,
Cookie,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>heads to the area of the bay of
LaPaz where the whale sharks hang out. Mr Chicago and I get ready to jump in.
The plan is for the captain and our guide, Alex to spot a whale shark and
calculate its course. Then they will drive the panga ahead of the whale shark,
order us to jump, and we will be in the water as the whale shark catches up
with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The captain orders us to jump
and I am in the water, camera at the ready. The water is so murky that I cannot
see the whale shark. I cannot even see Mr Chicago in the water near me. We do
this three separate times, and each time I see nothing. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">On the third jump I come back to the boat, frustrated.
Cookie has the cowl off the outboard and he is pouring seawater on top of the
motor. There is a plume of white smoke coming from somewhere inside. Now, normally
I am comfortable on a boat, but bobbing around in a chop is a deal breaker for
me. I get seasick and lose my Perla Taverna breakfast. And then again. And then
again. And again. Mrs Chicago is also sick and as she blows chunks over the
side of the boat she is dangling her newborn over the water.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Meanwhile, Mr Chicago has surfaced far from our boat, and he
gestures with what we later learn are hello waves. Mrs Chicago panics. She
tells us that he is not a good swimmer and that he is in distress. Will someone
save her husband—he is drowning?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We are dead in the water. Mrs Chicago is freaking out. I am
still woozie. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As it turns out, we are not the only panga to seek out this
spot in the bay. Mr Chicago is actually closer to a different boat and he pulls
himself onboard. Cookie and Alex wave to get the other boat’s attention. I am
not really sure if they ever did understand our distress from a distance or if
Mr Chicago had asked them to taxi him back to our boat (he would have had no
compunction doing that). Nonetheless they did come over and agreed to take us
all back to shore. So keep in mind that we now have about a good 2 ft chop. At
regular intervals one boat is 4 feet above the other. This is the moment when
we are transferring passengers from one boat to another. Because of the chop,
we cannot let the boats touch, so Mrs Chicago is passing her baby across 2 feet
of water into Mr Chicago’s wet arms. She is up and he is down. He is up and she
is down. They pass in the middle but they are not fast enough to make the
exchange. “I will do it for you” Alex announces. He holds out his hands to take
the baby. I am now wondering if I will read about this tragedy when I get home.
Or maybe it will be a Keith Morrison report about the Mexican honeymoon that
went bad under suspicious circumstances. But Alex is a boater and he hops
across into the other boat without a problem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mrs Chicago and I follow.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We leave poor Cookie with the disabled boat. He will wait
for one of the other Cantamar pangas to come and get him. But first we will
have to get back to the office and tell them to do that. There are no radios
aboard.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When one goes out in a panga (or almost any chartered boat)
it is commonplace to tip the captain and your guide. In this case we had two
captains to tip, which I did. Mr Chicago just walked away.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Back at the office I am wondering what we are going to do
about the 2<sup>nd</sup> part of the “combo”. Are we still going to Los Islotes?
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The manager in the office tells me there
now isn’t enough time. He has pulled my cash from his drawer and is ready to
give it all back to me. They are surprised to learn I am not pissed off and
that I understand stuff goes wrong on boats all the time. I still want to go to
Los Islotes. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“OK, Brianna From Milwaukee. Come back tomorrow morning at 8:30.” he says with a smile. “We
will go to the islands on the big boat.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es" style="font-size: small;"><span class="hps"> It is another beautiful evening in La Paz. I wander the Malecón and stop at Rancho Viejas for their famous carne asada tacos. The aroma had been driving me crazy ever since I got to LaPaz.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbIHqM24aurvTjzlWIFhD26bbdblLCEkHV62KCBtVaI5jsUt9DW2_knZfcusre0ujmEDB6CYrgl9JJer6GURvDwK5_6Oos1ajs85Xtwm8_NcVAt_p2q9-ZJNb_wXG2wsm65KSK0PpWqr8/s1600/20150128_183132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbIHqM24aurvTjzlWIFhD26bbdblLCEkHV62KCBtVaI5jsUt9DW2_knZfcusre0ujmEDB6CYrgl9JJer6GURvDwK5_6Oos1ajs85Xtwm8_NcVAt_p2q9-ZJNb_wXG2wsm65KSK0PpWqr8/s320/20150128_183132.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es" style="font-size: small;"><span class="hps">While you are waiting for your entré they bring out a large tray of fixxins. A beautiful Talavera platter from the city of Puebla.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> You have the ubiquitous Mexican pickled onions, shredded cabbage, pickled Jalape<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps">ñ</span></span>os, lime slices, a large bowl of fresh pico and a delightful salsa verde that must have had crema added to it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I would have taken a picture of the tacos but I ate them all before I could think of it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What a wonderful, exciting Wednesday it had been. I watched a few back-to-back episodes of Deadbeat with English subtitles and drifted off to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be even better. Snorkeling with the sea lions.</span></span><br />
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Thursday, January 29th</span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am waiting on the beach in the early morning light, expecting a big panga to show up. Maybe it will one of those with the colorful bimini top. "No," explains the mager. "We will take the van out to get the big boat." Although this seems a little sketchy, I agree (because there are other passengers in the van). We drive out past Balandra, stopping at the resorts and the ferry terminal along the way to pick up more people. By the time we get out to Club Cantamar we have collected 8 people. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The resort has both a multi-story hotel and luxurious stand-alone casitas. They also have a large marina. In USA-terms it is hard to tell if the place is still under construction or if it has fallen into disrepair. The marina is huge. Our driver has only a few words for us. "<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps">El barco</span> <span class="hps">está aquí,</span> <span class="hps">los baños</span> <span class="hps">están ahí." he says which means simply: The boat is here and the bathrooms are over there." What more did we need to know?</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We leave the harbor on a NNW heading. Our captain El Morsa
(The old walrus) gets the big </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">boat up on plane and we skim across the water at
about 20 knots. Looking out at the rough water, I am SO glad we are not
attempting this in a small panga. It looks like they typically have this boat
set up as a dive boat. There are several storage racks for tanks and gear.
There are only 8 of us but the boat could easily handle 20 people. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh98FiP8cex9C20nNqZwFfr0a3I7Wr7uU7jiauuVEhbwIteq9B99gq_5Ve8QTi12YsY4iH68QVCZsztw9KJo2LpzqT74zrtL8136xgeePXFIBC3K1iriIFE588K3wqJRHnWyxugLyhujjE/s1600/cantamar+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh98FiP8cex9C20nNqZwFfr0a3I7Wr7uU7jiauuVEhbwIteq9B99gq_5Ve8QTi12YsY4iH68QVCZsztw9KJo2LpzqT74zrtL8136xgeePXFIBC3K1iriIFE588K3wqJRHnWyxugLyhujjE/s1600/cantamar+2.png" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We are only a few minutes out when we are flanked by a pod
of a dozen playful dolphins. They jump through our wake in unison, speed off in
different directions, then reunite for their next jump. It is totally
choreographed and totally surreal. It’s like a fake Disney moment, except it’s
really happening.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It is only a few minutes before Isla Espiritu Santos comes
into clear view on our starboard side. El Morsa slows down the boat and steers
closer to the coastline. We can see the beautiful contrast between the
aggregate rock formations and the placid turquoise lagoons with their slivers
of cream-colored sand. One beach is the one that Rick Bayless visited with his
Baja Adventure tour. Another has the permanent tents used by students.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik9L01YRBAfbIVs6ACiHEerVdOUMVVKpkdZjyvBEOMrvVP-Q9Z_tFc21Mvoi_fCbnyIKAQAythlxQ0cLr-TjeHO9R3o5Kuax4a-m2XLSxdyNM_8AWZyFL4eq_bf406Ip5ZnkfS-tUg8Ac/s1600/20150129_113345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik9L01YRBAfbIVs6ACiHEerVdOUMVVKpkdZjyvBEOMrvVP-Q9Z_tFc21Mvoi_fCbnyIKAQAythlxQ0cLr-TjeHO9R3o5Kuax4a-m2XLSxdyNM_8AWZyFL4eq_bf406Ip5ZnkfS-tUg8Ac/s200/20150129_113345.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We hug the coastline and pass several other bays and
lagoons. The occasional cruising sailboat sits peacefully at anchor.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Past Espiritu Santos and past Isla Partida we arrive at the sea
lion colony on Los Islotes. That is the small white dot above Partida on the
map. We inch into the cove and I see there are at least 3 other boats here
already. Cantamar has placed a permanent buoy in the cove so it only takes a
few minutes to tie off while we all put on our flippers and masks. “How long
can we stay?” Someone asks. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“You can stay as long as you like.” says our guide. “When
all of you are ready to go home, we will go home.” That is the laid-back
attitude I quickly came to love in La Paz. We had the whole day and there was
no rush.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZUBoP9JyqJHvOdN-er-dMnlnS164YrCiDdkjTxztrlTxm8o-5Y2zyPD6-Lqnk5AU9Pzojzn0GXxHA81q1SPHBwDGNnH4XBb6Zx1JDati9DCAxDKu0ZExNgrBN99MLyWehhgGiJs2bJQQ/s1600/20150129_125109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZUBoP9JyqJHvOdN-er-dMnlnS164YrCiDdkjTxztrlTxm8o-5Y2zyPD6-Lqnk5AU9Pzojzn0GXxHA81q1SPHBwDGNnH4XBb6Zx1JDati9DCAxDKu0ZExNgrBN99MLyWehhgGiJs2bJQQ/s320/20150129_125109.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I had seen pictures of the cove so I knew exactly what it
would look like, but I wasn’t prepared for the smell. It reeks of stinking
fish. At first it is almost overwhelming, but then you get used to it. And the
noise is constant. The sea lions bark at us and at each other, and also just
for the heck of it. Our guide gives us the rundown—stay away from the rocks and
don’t touch the sea lions. Later I learned that the big male bulls sit up on
the rocks and it is the young females who jump into the water—not to greet you
and be pals, but to check you out and keep an eye on you in case you decide to
climb up on the rocks.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW9_DvCchOMj9rGyOygKWVeSxPE-jXDPwJ2CvE2zpXSSjR5qC8BGm2D4lPs39Xlcmzu6GUpiUnITOwQeY05DqLhP4mTlPCU7mGqi-hs7EqouIHDjnIFsKTWapTNEzs7p1E0knSVevA8EE/s1600/20150129_125756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW9_DvCchOMj9rGyOygKWVeSxPE-jXDPwJ2CvE2zpXSSjR5qC8BGm2D4lPs39Xlcmzu6GUpiUnITOwQeY05DqLhP4mTlPCU7mGqi-hs7EqouIHDjnIFsKTWapTNEzs7p1E0knSVevA8EE/s200/20150129_125756.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">One by one we slip of the end of the boat into the water.
It’s probably about 20 feet deep. Because of the ongoing weather it’s not
totally clear, but it’s much better than the day before. The sea lions are
really fast. They swim behind me, in front of me, disappearing and reappearing
like ninjas. I scramble to take pictures but they are too fast. This would be
the perfect time for a Go Pro. Up close they really have big teeth. It’s a good
thing they don’t consider us food.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The water is cool but not cold. If you asked a local, they
would say it’s very cold this time of year. I see a cool shell below, resting
on one of the big rocks on the bottom, but when I try to dive down and get it
my wetsuit keeps me on the surface. Yikes, I am too buoyant. That was
unexpected.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am in and out several times. Taking short breaks on the
boat’s swim platform. The waterproof case I got for my smartphone is working
well. It is keeping the phone dry. In the cool water the touchscreen function
is spotty at best. I missed several great sea lion shots because the phone
couldn’t feel my finger touching the shutter.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnFYV6_Itzd8Nq2u_0uuumETWUiquvf95SlO6Sy1J-DLC-m8PQqIfdS7H9FRKft42wLI5sha4wh0ivGCJL8Jgj2Tphj_3ClCO5HT6oynMlElXsVWlMJ9YN_baOjvAuQRi69NKsOTNe5I/s1600/20150129_125925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnFYV6_Itzd8Nq2u_0uuumETWUiquvf95SlO6Sy1J-DLC-m8PQqIfdS7H9FRKft42wLI5sha4wh0ivGCJL8Jgj2Tphj_3ClCO5HT6oynMlElXsVWlMJ9YN_baOjvAuQRi69NKsOTNe5I/s200/20150129_125925.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The situation was laughable, because I had planned out every
detail of the day. But then when I am hanging in the water next to the sea lion
colony in the sea of Cortez with my snorkel on, looking at a sea lion swimming
right towards me, I cannot press the shutter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">One by one we all migrate back to the boat and there are
fixxins below deck to make sandwiches. It is amazing how hungry we all were
after snorkeling around for an hour. Soon we are underway, and as I sit on the
deck, reviewing my blurry images of sea lion tails, it occurs to me that this
has been an amazing, incredible day. I have never done anything like this
before. It is something I will remember forever.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This time we make a bee-line back to the mainland at full
speed. Playa Balandra comes into view on our port side. I can see the little
mushroom rock and the beautiful blue water. We slow down and the boat pulls
into the bay. Surprise. We have time to stop at Balandra and do some kayaking.
Yayyy!!</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj976QeteOsC0usRMCVP77odR7HXqzmG3PJg6czP1J8kNxAGQY0XkhJ1BruYdi3jqpRmDD1Qvym6MVWA6S_jthZC8UoJL61Q5jiwGpO0YqwjDenQStwYPNbXvA3c8hl3xcDhjvL0Jd-4I8/s1600/20150129_161427.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj976QeteOsC0usRMCVP77odR7HXqzmG3PJg6czP1J8kNxAGQY0XkhJ1BruYdi3jqpRmDD1Qvym6MVWA6S_jthZC8UoJL61Q5jiwGpO0YqwjDenQStwYPNbXvA3c8hl3xcDhjvL0Jd-4I8/s200/20150129_161427.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Because the bay is so shallow we have to drop anchor quite
far out. The captain drops the 4 kayaks we have been carrying into the water.
We take turns shuttling each other to the beach. A couple of people dive from
the boat and swim to the shore.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This was a special treat for me. To get another chance to
swim around Balandra with my snorkel and see the little fish darting about. I
still had my water shoes on so I decided to go ashore and hike up one of the
trails on the headland, just for a different point of view. No sooner did I get
up to the top and the captain starting blowing the boat’s horn. We were all to
come back to the boat right away someone shouted. When I ran down the hill and
got closer to our guide he elaborated. “Come on, hurry, the captain has seen a
whale.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We all scrambled back on the boat and the captain headed
west away from the land. We came to a full stop, all eyes on the water. We
scanned the horizon, all cameras at the ready. Everyone silent. “There!”
someone shouted as the whale briefly breached. Quickly we were underway again,
hoping to get a closer look. We spent about an hour and saw the whale spout
several more times. Then, it was decided, he had gone. With that we finally
headed back to Cantamar marina and made our way back onto the van. On the way
back to La Paz it seemed like the van was ready to give out several times, when
we had to go up a hill. But we made it back to my beloved Malecon. As we all
went our separate ways I made one last stop at the office to thank them once
again. What an amazing adventure. What a great day.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That night, I walked East along the Malecon and had dinner
at Calypso. They are famous for their shrimp and they did not disappoint. The
restaurant is like two spaces with an open-air hallway in between them. Just
like Tres Virgenes, they have interesting sauces. One is simple but delicious.
It’s simply crema with <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">hot sauce</span>. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Back at the hotel it is my last night in La Paz. I look at
my pictures over and over again. I can’t believe I am really here.</span></span></div>
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<h3>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Friday January 30,
2015</span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Although the plane doesn’t leave until about 4 in the
afternoon on Friday, the afternoon bus to Los Cabos is full so I have to take
the 9 am bus. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXsYzi_K3wTePfXlWm_0N-vv3bt4RAg1kDM3kdrrY-0zFL-C_zqCEuf45SGWTOrnNuHZrJv9EwHzYpUsYuc8bkge1jL3SB3A0GbH8Bv84QwiSpOO-vk1FiYNzqMaBfPxxHB7rFOmSY54A/s1600/20150130_071552.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXsYzi_K3wTePfXlWm_0N-vv3bt4RAg1kDM3kdrrY-0zFL-C_zqCEuf45SGWTOrnNuHZrJv9EwHzYpUsYuc8bkge1jL3SB3A0GbH8Bv84QwiSpOO-vk1FiYNzqMaBfPxxHB7rFOmSY54A/s320/20150130_071552.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am up early. I pack up and leave all my remaining Mexican
money in the room for the maid. It isn’t much, but it is all I have left in my
account.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wander the Malecon one last
time and sit on a bench, looking out at the sea. I check in with the bus
station every now and then to make sure things are still on schedule. It is
that weird part of a vacation where you realize that you are sitting on a
street in one place, feeling the sand between your toes and the sun on your
face, but you know that later in the same day you will be back home in
Wisconsin. Later that same day you will be snuggled in your bed at home. In some
ways, like it never happened. You know that the following day you will go for
groceries and maybe put some gas in the car. You will want to shout out to the
strangers around you that you were swimming with seas lions.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDjF3naeLEiW8YPMXobnnpMW1R_NmZE-TW9YOgexjaEbrZT6CV49oDygmnZeMVvOqjO3TAS4jGPbyse2OZTe-ej6V7ckPc11xwR34X_87QTrTvn6O_1bMcFy9_rwaGzm8JfB_oYjSlIvc/s1600/20150130_134539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDjF3naeLEiW8YPMXobnnpMW1R_NmZE-TW9YOgexjaEbrZT6CV49oDygmnZeMVvOqjO3TAS4jGPbyse2OZTe-ej6V7ckPc11xwR34X_87QTrTvn6O_1bMcFy9_rwaGzm8JfB_oYjSlIvc/s200/20150130_134539.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It’s a 3 hour drive back to San Juan Del Cabo. My head is
still swimming with my adventures. When we stop at Todos Santos for a break I
search out el Banco and consider using their ATM. “<span class="hps"><span lang="ES" style="mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sólo diez minutos.” The driver reminds
us. </span></span>I run up the sandy street to the bank, but unlike the modern
bank in La Paz it is the older “Grab-your-card” kind so I don’t risk it. The
departure terminal at the airport is pretty straight forward. Gate 1, 2, 3, 4,
5, 6 all in a row. The crowd is a real mix. All the eco tourists looking like
hippies, the wealthy folk who came down to Cabo to go sportfishing and perhaps
spend time on their yacht, and the last of the hold-out students who came down
to Cabo to party over winter break.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After a short flight I am in Texas. US Customs doesn’t even
ask me what’s in my backpack. There is a line but someone tells me I don’t need
to wait in the line and I am ushered through. Back in the USA.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Dallas airport is huge. It has the longest escalator I
have ever seen. Like Philadelphia, there are dozens of cool restaurants and
shops. I settle for Papasito’s Mexican Cantina. It just seemed like the right
thing to do. Considering it was in an airport in Dallas, it really was quite
good.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The airport is divided into sections that are connected by
very fast “trains” which work on some elaborate system that manages to get
everyone where they need to go. It’s quite amazing. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The flight into Milwaukee glides in over the southern tip of
lake Michigan in the darkness. There are the lights of Gary, the huge sprawl of
Chicago, Kenosha, Racine and finally Milwaukee. Kim is at the airport to pick
me up and take us back to our snuggly home. It’s about 10:30 or 11:30. The dogs
are excited to see me. Kim is excited to see me. I am home. I am safe. I am
loved. And I will never forget my days in La Paz.</span></span><br />
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<b>Last fall I took a trip</b> to Muskegon Michigan on the Lake Express ferry. It was a lot of fun and I met some interesting cross-country cyclists and bikers. I wish the boat was more affordable, though.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The ferry is very fast and did a good job handling the 6-8 ft swells and the 30 kt winds on the way there. It was an ominous start to have them announce over the PA that anyone with a tendency to get seasick might want to reschedule for another day. </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8oiSd7aldNctu4hUAaoxLeU_Wy0OkWmPBAl7Vr8jgcGxd-4kSfSkbvWNhppKMw159NyyLA9ptUQDwET0fyN6uBLwWpHcC26jDyD3ed6C4VtC7suy8FKUhNjXvsViGDN7JzFZeJpB2GF0/s1600/IMAG0230.png" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8oiSd7aldNctu4hUAaoxLeU_Wy0OkWmPBAl7Vr8jgcGxd-4kSfSkbvWNhppKMw159NyyLA9ptUQDwET0fyN6uBLwWpHcC26jDyD3ed6C4VtC7suy8FKUhNjXvsViGDN7JzFZeJpB2GF0/s320/IMAG0230.png" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption">So I loaded up the mighty Triumph America <br />
(which, by the way is the coolest motorcycle <br />
in the history of the world)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUAHbQsYpCA2jneIJJPf6GSrzY-_V6GOPwXDreBr0-jfSuK6IfKN2rZu0tifs4uhNjzilL8cGg3PgoAuUAFL93u57SjvvdAR4XFM5H-ERnWCoXR20ol7tnJyoshM2iFqt-COUYwlJ7odo/s1600/IMAG0231.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUAHbQsYpCA2jneIJJPf6GSrzY-_V6GOPwXDreBr0-jfSuK6IfKN2rZu0tifs4uhNjzilL8cGg3PgoAuUAFL93u57SjvvdAR4XFM5H-ERnWCoXR20ol7tnJyoshM2iFqt-COUYwlJ7odo/s320/IMAG0231.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption">and drove it aboard the ferry. They tie it down to<br />
the deck so it's in the same place you left it at the end of your trip.<br />
Well more precisely, they expect you to know how to<br />
tie it down to the deck yourself. I got a hand from some<br />
bikers on their way back to Ontario. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
The first thing I did was make my way to the cool hotel. I had reserved a room with a Jacuzzi and a fireplace and I was anxious to see if it was as nice as the photos on the website. It was even nicer. It had a little kitchen and three sets of sliding doors that opened onto balconies that overlooked the attached marina and restaurant.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1HgC1Qx2bzHyWLmB02eepubNbdHRbGSQNpQWqdUt61UMrWem_ONp8FAAvL9sEP-db_E6VQyk_xfHeHouHWyPDl3mivno2rSsjRlD1TbB4OFCqWhKmAuPYSoaUDykfLxNyOnugGq9kWlY/s1600/IMAG0233.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1HgC1Qx2bzHyWLmB02eepubNbdHRbGSQNpQWqdUt61UMrWem_ONp8FAAvL9sEP-db_E6VQyk_xfHeHouHWyPDl3mivno2rSsjRlD1TbB4OFCqWhKmAuPYSoaUDykfLxNyOnugGq9kWlY/s400/IMAG0233.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the whirlpool tub in the lower right hand corner. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
Next I went directly to the beaches. The sand is so amazingly beautiful and clean-looking. Muskegon has three main beaches/parks (and other smaller ones) that each have their own character. Muskegon State Park, Pere Marquette Park, and Beachwood Park.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73SVqeVcRdHzfzVGaI8jTgDgFl0URynJTonrcOvGH0UGmQTH7jvlmXyFjbgcRphMML7Nel7yUxKrUHlvYNqFYPNphXxaxSqRW_7khK0uHIcxSsM4fDhFXIXa6pEV-Ll0vwwDfDqwmuoo/s1600/DSCN1107.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73SVqeVcRdHzfzVGaI8jTgDgFl0URynJTonrcOvGH0UGmQTH7jvlmXyFjbgcRphMML7Nel7yUxKrUHlvYNqFYPNphXxaxSqRW_7khK0uHIcxSsM4fDhFXIXa6pEV-Ll0vwwDfDqwmuoo/s320/DSCN1107.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At this time of year the beaches are deserted and peaceful</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdMgqVVWZ3qUBp6pBBxKXxMMrJ-skYTofNR8Y7DNEcAveU3Qb9vJIMXxQghQqH10BIO9CKbzqXFALjkYFoyYQsMRspSH0xmMBAXJYguY3HKx_viPEzZp2Tr6JiBKyJelrOepFotUsiEbQ/s1600/images-1.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdMgqVVWZ3qUBp6pBBxKXxMMrJ-skYTofNR8Y7DNEcAveU3Qb9vJIMXxQghQqH10BIO9CKbzqXFALjkYFoyYQsMRspSH0xmMBAXJYguY3HKx_viPEzZp2Tr6JiBKyJelrOepFotUsiEbQ/s320/images-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the height of the summer they look more like this shot of Grand Haven.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The picture shown here may actually be from Grand Haven, but you get the point. It just shows you what a great lake looks like when you don't build factories right next to it and dump sewage into it.<br />
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That first night I wandered around Muskegon and looked at a few restaurants and clubs but ended up eating at the hotel. I know that's lame but I really didn't know the city well enough. <br />
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The hotel had two big spa tubs on the deck of the swimming pool with a fireplace in between them. The fireplace salesman really did well at this place. Day two was to be my ride down to Grand Haven. I wish I had more time because I would have liked to see South Haven as well.<br />
<br />
Naturally I had to use the whirpool in the room AND burn the gas fireplace all night with the windows open because...well because I could.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilo0PpU3MRYGOQ-YzIjJUAp4x6VxyqoF0Jo0Bl44ZXpt56nIrUcKSZxb0C-PZ5Xih29WDlA1jU5uDFjgg2mx3Edtmior-A-Y4OvvA4VveqT4467desbR9KkFc-eoPJ7-yB6BstVUW8xis/s1600/DSCN1104.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilo0PpU3MRYGOQ-YzIjJUAp4x6VxyqoF0Jo0Bl44ZXpt56nIrUcKSZxb0C-PZ5Xih29WDlA1jU5uDFjgg2mx3Edtmior-A-Y4OvvA4VveqT4467desbR9KkFc-eoPJ7-yB6BstVUW8xis/s320/DSCN1104.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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Early the next morning I set off for Grand Haven which is just wonderful. The whole main drag was decorated with sidewalk "Rocket Fish" sculptures that the retail stores had decorated in their own way. My favorite was one completely covered with glazed ceramic segments. Another favorite was the store that painted it with chalkboard paint and invited people to decorate it themselves.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5McL_FRgR7k-R6uTzQ9aBWnexHjGH50Uvt6vcrb0diJa_7wSsnIVQYkt1WEEDWQI87RNMcyfoHWvmlhRaoevwYYj6As8Q-owhY2XoMVZgo8Z62OhRpos2qhUZfkD-tObyBHls-uHRY7c/s1600/IMAG0252.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5McL_FRgR7k-R6uTzQ9aBWnexHjGH50Uvt6vcrb0diJa_7wSsnIVQYkt1WEEDWQI87RNMcyfoHWvmlhRaoevwYYj6As8Q-owhY2XoMVZgo8Z62OhRpos2qhUZfkD-tObyBHls-uHRY7c/s320/IMAG0252.png" width="213" /></a></div>
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I had a huge burger topped with blue cheese, relaxed in another cafe with a chai latté, enjoyed the dog store and spent a lot of time in a great bead shop. One touristy shop had a great idea: They had made local trees, cut down by the city, into "Neighborwood" cutting boards. Great name. Great idea. A little pricey at $50 each.<br />
Then I saw an amazing guitar in the luthier's place. The owner said it wasn't for sale––only in for repair. It was a Gianini Craviola––built in Brazil in the '70s. It took me 7months but I just bought one for myself. I think I will make a whole separate blog entry about it. That is one sweet little guitar...er, excuse me, one sweet little Craviola.<br />
A shop near the water was selling these awesome T-shirts. I wasn't sure if it was literal or a metaphor. Funny either way.<br />
<br />
At first blush, Grand Haven is certainly a charming little city. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4cyUXpUKHuriUuXENxi3H93ziUNNyxgp331ilMtt7mq60Idqewzg0OV8TFX1rZsnXnqMUqu8WLBr9kzifj2QAohvcimxYVazpXDP3gGkAMCeMKOWPan4ydFoK3U5ulXaugpNW3IfMzj8/s1600/DSCN1126.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4cyUXpUKHuriUuXENxi3H93ziUNNyxgp331ilMtt7mq60Idqewzg0OV8TFX1rZsnXnqMUqu8WLBr9kzifj2QAohvcimxYVazpXDP3gGkAMCeMKOWPan4ydFoK3U5ulXaugpNW3IfMzj8/s320/DSCN1126.png" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
That night I rode back to Muskegon and (yup) took advantage of the pool, the spa and the whirlpool again. That hotel (The Shoreline Inn) is a modern building full of a combination of real and fake Victorian furniture and artifacts. Sounds weird but they actually pull it off. It's very romantic.<br />
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The next day I headed North to Duck lake where there is a beautiful state park. Probably not as romantic when it's overflowing with people in the summer, but beautiful nonetheless. next a stop at the White River Light Station museum, White lake, Whitehall and Montague.<br />
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Montague is proud of their giant weather vane, but the coolest thing I saw (a blast from the past) was that they have an actual Dog & Suds drive in restaurant. Only 17 left in the whole world.<br />
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The next day I toured the Silversides submarine in Muskegon which was very creepy because I was the only one on board. It was weird to sit in silence in the galley where people had spent WW II hundreds of feet below the surface, hoping each day that depth charges wouldn't blow them up. I imagined the conversations that would have been going on.<br />
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Just before the ferry was scheduled to arrive I stopped into Greek Tony's and had the best pulled pork sandwich ever. I REALLY want to go back there again and try some other things on their menu.<br />
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What a nice little trip.<br />
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<br /></div>breezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15651424429734589118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6586532314170317852.post-41462880605763418382011-09-02T11:54:00.000-07:002012-07-11T20:36:11.478-07:00Good bye Dark Eyes.In January 1995 we lost my Dad. He was a wonderful dad and an awesome grampa as well.<br />
Last month, August 4 to be precise, we lost my Mom as well.<br />
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It's taken a while for me to put this in perspective but now that I have no parents I realize that I have no one to ask about our past. Anything I never asked or didn't learn from them is now gone forever. I have a sense of being severed from the past now. The history of my immediate family ends with me now. What I don't know will now never be known. Instead of being a point in the middle of a string where I could look back or look forward, I am now at the end of the string.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX7wxvRkHu4JkBzqOm8kRISJgL4wJUIPmLTYOmcCCRy06FBFlQXblMfHWvlK56JJSJ9cCg_Wq2egJh7pdRLXVlFFngyj6lJP_ftc4QvyKlVGJ1cMJr_AdwPmtjh8jaabN32UbnGAMkMzM/s1600/mom+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX7wxvRkHu4JkBzqOm8kRISJgL4wJUIPmLTYOmcCCRy06FBFlQXblMfHWvlK56JJSJ9cCg_Wq2egJh7pdRLXVlFFngyj6lJP_ftc4QvyKlVGJ1cMJr_AdwPmtjh8jaabN32UbnGAMkMzM/s320/mom+1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I know better than all the doctors.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>breezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15651424429734589118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6586532314170317852.post-1137186467362878472011-04-04T08:34:00.000-07:002011-04-04T13:01:03.251-07:00The new batteries<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixkR_7Qd8K0zWhOYcrL53lMfy5RV7tA_-f8rjRz-Bbl_JnLTEvD5a3BFfSb5S-gz5FRPXe6H_ePaA2P89PhZBw3hoIAHPFqJgB8oT9ADWL_7XR9Am7PakiTtoPXwnqx9Gkbq40I5SFNpc/s1600/board+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixkR_7Qd8K0zWhOYcrL53lMfy5RV7tA_-f8rjRz-Bbl_JnLTEvD5a3BFfSb5S-gz5FRPXe6H_ePaA2P89PhZBw3hoIAHPFqJgB8oT9ADWL_7XR9Am7PakiTtoPXwnqx9Gkbq40I5SFNpc/s200/board+2.jpg" width="200" /></a>One is always looking for additional storage on a boat. Whomever set up the Sloop had devoted a huge under-seat storage area to the manual bilge pump. By installing a new floor platform in there I was able to make room for 2 additional house bank batteries as well as the bilge pump. The extra weight should balance out the 2 existing batteries on the opposite side of the boat. I am interested to see if that was why Sloopy would always list slightly to port.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjki3r8HpbMJPd08EEdJybxx3_QQeiHvv3tGsebGTGroNAoeMbRU-fol7pxrHDF22Yhlghp1_gfJU9_Scb6SuObP_ZpkGovGeSNJmTzX0rleRd4W4SgbeEW3ZA-gT_29lQsa-SWONj6bS0/s1600/board+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjki3r8HpbMJPd08EEdJybxx3_QQeiHvv3tGsebGTGroNAoeMbRU-fol7pxrHDF22Yhlghp1_gfJU9_Scb6SuObP_ZpkGovGeSNJmTzX0rleRd4W4SgbeEW3ZA-gT_29lQsa-SWONj6bS0/s200/board+1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I used 1/2" plywood and sealed it to the hull with 3M 4200. The curved out spot is for the depth-finder transponder thru-hull fitting. All the wood surfaces are coated with polyurethane to retard rotting and mold. With the new transponder I am hoping to get the first ever "accurate" depth readings on Sloopy. Previously Sloopy's depthfinder suggested that the depth was perhaps 32' or maybe 285'...or no, wait a second, ummm 355'. No 16'.....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikweGyWcmsSgDMoEnBCycqoUxC7H_y_qkgS6wxf2LBGUYfy_Xvvae0e6lgYRMUn0e0A9ksY8eW4rUG2q35-vK-t6Qr0kydcbEOP2N1KeB2EQrL5b1HnwzHQpax1kEGRHHCKdQJ3iY_TA4/s1600/pump+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikweGyWcmsSgDMoEnBCycqoUxC7H_y_qkgS6wxf2LBGUYfy_Xvvae0e6lgYRMUn0e0A9ksY8eW4rUG2q35-vK-t6Qr0kydcbEOP2N1KeB2EQrL5b1HnwzHQpax1kEGRHHCKdQJ3iY_TA4/s320/pump+1.jpg" width="320" /></a>The manual bilge pump was so dirty that I thought it was old and worn out. I took it home and cleaned it up and tested it in the kitchen sink. Turns out it is relatively new and in perfect working order..... It just wasn't connected to the drain. If there had been a bailing emergency you would have worn out your arm AND sunk at the same time. This shot also shows all the additional wiring I added/replaced to power the new stuff.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCitoAsgbktfHe96K4dUtLS5PHFxwjKW-1PwsK2SVNPGYqXvEvBakC1aCpWCkAF8SU3Q8s2XWaeSxJkU9X7H4z9ZC-Cr39CwtSX3Z63MvDKo5-DDbHTQzIq3T-AvbaMFsNUB00H7nZE6Q/s1600/finished+setup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCitoAsgbktfHe96K4dUtLS5PHFxwjKW-1PwsK2SVNPGYqXvEvBakC1aCpWCkAF8SU3Q8s2XWaeSxJkU9X7H4z9ZC-Cr39CwtSX3Z63MvDKo5-DDbHTQzIq3T-AvbaMFsNUB00H7nZE6Q/s640/finished+setup.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
This shot shows the finished set up. The 2 additional batteries are wired in parallel with the first house battery on the other side of the boat. I can imagine the builders in 1972 asking "what on earth could you ever need 3 house batteries for on this boat? Well that was before the days of GPS navigation, CD and iPod Stereos, tiller pilots and lcd TV sets. Not to mention 12V blenders, refrigerators, reverse osmosis units, and water heaters. I still want to connect voltage meters with momentary contact switches, so I can monitor the charging. So far my tests have been limited to "can you play the stereo fairly loud all day and still watch TV the next day. Not very scientific.breezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15651424429734589118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6586532314170317852.post-44198847544989617192011-03-14T09:11:00.000-07:002011-03-21T14:08:20.019-07:00Fixing up the boat<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidzTNOvxuRH_RjBceqcdCOyQO1QLEvCnmN1daI86QGBvjmNmlH2-_yCO7MSaHTVCdXPijBFfDFek3V0xWHRVUN28YFx1VI3R5COWO7dlzBUN5YrLtj15MRX34UlGYTMV_l0hJ_EMM38yY/s320/cupboards+2009.jpg" width="240" /> </div><br />
Winter in the Midwest means no sailing. So I huddle next to the fire and think up boat improvement projects. Cooper the dog shakes his head and wonders why I am interested in that stupid boat anyway. His idea of fun involves squirrels or tennis balls, not floating around in a plastic tub.<br />
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Here he is in the cockpit with his "I hate this" look on his face. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> Last year, as you recall, I made the two cupboards shown above and added wooden countertops in the galley. This year I decided to cover up the ugly, worn out fake-teak bulkhead with new wood.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqBMJ-YBhY0qDPDelVMJ70JHhMac8L28M_Ksobvzp5zpAc6a7ZWEgZ4ag3EzhoHAW4sejTdEcbTZQlcuVZKhMtrq0nmivojayWbDZIEO3kduAi_e_rlpAgmnzyjqnxTSxkhyphenhyphenSvTtegVvo/s1600/Old+bulkhead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqBMJ-YBhY0qDPDelVMJ70JHhMac8L28M_Ksobvzp5zpAc6a7ZWEgZ4ag3EzhoHAW4sejTdEcbTZQlcuVZKhMtrq0nmivojayWbDZIEO3kduAi_e_rlpAgmnzyjqnxTSxkhyphenhyphenSvTtegVvo/s320/Old+bulkhead.jpg" width="240" /></a></div> It always bugged me that the previous owner cut a 6 x 9 hole for a speaker right at the top of the bulkhead. Then they varnished the wall (why? It's plastic) and let the varnish run down in big drips. Nice.<br />
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When I dismantle something that was built in the past I always think, wow, somebody put these screws in the wood in 1971 and now in 2011 I am removing them. Hello 1971 stainless screws, nice to meet you. I imagine the builders in their Henley shirts, long hair and hip-huggers. And maybe in the background James Taylor and Janis Joplin are on the radio in the shop in Costa Mesa California where Sloopy was built. Even the zip-lock bag the screws are sitting in wasn't invented in 1971.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOMJ423JTDZUT4v5xfMSh1gKplVVbQtt4TjWfcuEG_2KC3digUP4v6zU8A_8mF2WXbl2ArMUl3nvHmCHLCzDg-4OpBwGSxlvrqs_tMPSN2ul9hX-xv5VM-r7JnsZMcWt4Ji9QEscg29Yg/s1600/new+bulkhead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOMJ423JTDZUT4v5xfMSh1gKplVVbQtt4TjWfcuEG_2KC3digUP4v6zU8A_8mF2WXbl2ArMUl3nvHmCHLCzDg-4OpBwGSxlvrqs_tMPSN2ul9hX-xv5VM-r7JnsZMcWt4Ji9QEscg29Yg/s640/new+bulkhead.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
So I skinned the whole thing over in thin red oak. Yes, I know white oak or teak would be better....but budget wins out in this case (this whole bulkhead cost about $75)—besides, it's all sealed in polyurethane anyway. I used poly adhesive and held it in place with finish brads from my nail gun. Were they stainless steel brads.....no. The result is quite impressive. It makes Sloopy look like a much nicer boat than it is.<br />
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The takeaway is that when you have a compressor, chop saw, jigsaw, nail gun, shop vac and two boxes of hand tools on a small boat you feel like you are remodeling a closet and you brought everything in the closet with you. Everything is in the way of everything else and every time you need to move you need to move something first.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0HT94Ow2NoFldA1DykWuk2sglPI2vaDH8IO2bvn7AnjXY9FvSBYaBcYJ951Rc105gd-k6v4W8e1_d2x7YisMA3p3BYB9tsXUboli_LalYOOrUafVDcT38ZDKJdjU3U8vtCQAbaJs6nJ4/s1600/finished+bulkhead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0HT94Ow2NoFldA1DykWuk2sglPI2vaDH8IO2bvn7AnjXY9FvSBYaBcYJ951Rc105gd-k6v4W8e1_d2x7YisMA3p3BYB9tsXUboli_LalYOOrUafVDcT38ZDKJdjU3U8vtCQAbaJs6nJ4/s400/finished+bulkhead.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>Meanwhile I also discovered that the emergency manual bilge pump wasn't actually connected to anything so it was apparently just for show.<br />
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Well, as these sorts of projects go, one thing leads to another so there is replaced wiring and that one seat cushion that was always too big was redone—now the double berth should work the way it was supposed to when you drop the table. I am still not sure if that was my mistake or Homestyle Upholstery's, but they do beautiful work I must say. I highly recommend them. See Larry at <span class="f"><cite>www.<b>homestyle</b>custom.com</cite></span><br />
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Oh yeah, I also decided to rebuild the galley table to match the bulkhead and counter tops.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJXeUqjXF6LzIyO7qseCRv1OQjivfb2lPGE-0CmRA6YDfSCe2OrHkrM5bzPSaY_3KqLbeIvZ3m2RNRqvvAcP8v9TCG3GaZRrhp8idWIIwHZNegpVLel_xhAck4HFp2Zxbm74-QI_69zNM/s1600/table.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJXeUqjXF6LzIyO7qseCRv1OQjivfb2lPGE-0CmRA6YDfSCe2OrHkrM5bzPSaY_3KqLbeIvZ3m2RNRqvvAcP8v9TCG3GaZRrhp8idWIIwHZNegpVLel_xhAck4HFp2Zxbm74-QI_69zNM/s200/table.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I used the 1/2" plywood that was leftover from the countertop project and laminated it with 1/4" oak boards. With everything clamped and glued and the beefier mounding around the edges, it is just as rigid as the original at about half the weight. It looks like each side is bowed so that the corners are higher than the middle but it's just an optical illusion. Weird.<br />
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Then it occurred to me that for a couple of extra dollars I could epoxy a nice wood strip over the ugly aluminum strip inside the cabin that covers the "connect the hull to the deck" bolts. I hope no one ever wants to get that off because it will take a hammer and chisel.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghiV40A5wE0N9YqFiWJTWMSWpjo0wXUHjRVsLHv2kvISN1ACwMOz2hylyNMJOg63l4_NjGXw_3JQsiBB5DGOr1KtAkXwKX9a_N-UFi4yV3zkoAt6LF8aMk64yzzNGospRxzAFqW176dF8/s1600/table+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghiV40A5wE0N9YqFiWJTWMSWpjo0wXUHjRVsLHv2kvISN1ACwMOz2hylyNMJOg63l4_NjGXw_3JQsiBB5DGOr1KtAkXwKX9a_N-UFi4yV3zkoAt6LF8aMk64yzzNGospRxzAFqW176dF8/s320/table+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI3Qc5mb6Ev-1uET1U3v43h-btqW3RzaauQmKQjUE4bjNNhL6o2K4i3sYfq1vOAJX2IWy2hdaGpqQBv81WtAxkZBrUCxNNLj5RUAvYWLPWZ_rB_U-kfJVVCElsgVzX6_tYYQO9sPBogN4/s1600/table+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI3Qc5mb6Ev-1uET1U3v43h-btqW3RzaauQmKQjUE4bjNNhL6o2K4i3sYfq1vOAJX2IWy2hdaGpqQBv81WtAxkZBrUCxNNLj5RUAvYWLPWZ_rB_U-kfJVVCElsgVzX6_tYYQO9sPBogN4/s320/table+3.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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Total materials estimate for new cupboards, counters, galley table and bulkhead.....probably about $250.00.<br />
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Now to address that manual bilge pump. The pump itself works fine (I tried it in the kitchen sink at home) so I just have to connect it to the drain pipe. That means disassembling the storage compartment I built under the stove, but that's how this stuff goes.<br />
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In the search for more storage space I realized that pump was hogging about 4 cubic feet of space. With a little rearranging there will be enough room to add 2 batteries to the house bank. That means more hours with navigation and tiller pilot without a charge.<br />
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Next up, solar panel?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>breezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15651424429734589118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6586532314170317852.post-61939367883118042432010-10-06T09:51:00.000-07:002010-10-06T12:02:05.052-07:00Misty Marsh<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB_MmPUVjI4T3pFfetVJ49afbH3fyyQn4-8cAJO4D15vQjDh2FHlh5JsWdQKqkF07lyhuczwP-BAwOy0f7tuDP8tKcU7xiCRXi_SXXqLlTYMk60Dgws5D0WaCQs3waejDiZE4n8-t7S0o/s1600/marsh+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB_MmPUVjI4T3pFfetVJ49afbH3fyyQn4-8cAJO4D15vQjDh2FHlh5JsWdQKqkF07lyhuczwP-BAwOy0f7tuDP8tKcU7xiCRXi_SXXqLlTYMk60Dgws5D0WaCQs3waejDiZE4n8-t7S0o/s1600/marsh+2.jpg" /></a></div>Behind my house there is a marsh next to a river. <br />
Last week the temperature dropped rapidly and made beautiful mist rise from the rushes. Early in the morning, as the sun starts peeking over the tree line, it is a very quiet and peaceful place. Who would know that the freeway to the city is just a few 1000 feet away.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIg6jrfDZEQ5X9sgqQ8I7G3HdTxlaSJh-tlDr9TTuNxjNMpVlelJEkyia91GmBSWUvdapTQxw9CSu2by8gg-CCPw1saGWoWwmE5PeFXyVBqJ8rALX3-_HuiK0TE9VJXyFOt7f3z2oacZQ/s1600/little+flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIg6jrfDZEQ5X9sgqQ8I7G3HdTxlaSJh-tlDr9TTuNxjNMpVlelJEkyia91GmBSWUvdapTQxw9CSu2by8gg-CCPw1saGWoWwmE5PeFXyVBqJ8rALX3-_HuiK0TE9VJXyFOt7f3z2oacZQ/s320/little+flowers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtCtrGGoJPKqSB3CND2VXyFXpqPomZ3-rWfnmclnDzN9gElRn99x4oYyeMpGIf2B9Vef8NsMAckHUuNxVZzBeystBG54v5HiDcufTb5KB6PWOHiSSTWzBp0eLLlvwIZs-dwDmzHVkhhM/s1600/marsh+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtCtrGGoJPKqSB3CND2VXyFXpqPomZ3-rWfnmclnDzN9gElRn99x4oYyeMpGIf2B9Vef8NsMAckHUuNxVZzBeystBG54v5HiDcufTb5KB6PWOHiSSTWzBp0eLLlvwIZs-dwDmzHVkhhM/s400/marsh+3.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />
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<span id="goog_2104239346"></span><span id="goog_2104239347"></span>breezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15651424429734589118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6586532314170317852.post-30066552382762392512010-06-24T19:29:00.000-07:002010-06-24T19:32:22.530-07:00My Family<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEingHdKX6C2BeXmQ0O5p2QwPB2wUQ2rXMagyEgmG-2PLHXtDnUfgR1cXgNt3gmwFpQMzFSI-GqoGgXVcDNOp7QS6vExhFNmNXkpjKvhFVElHNBb6_crYVXYHG-aeobAobGFIEXPcAD5Xuk/s1600/DSCN1312.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486533318117695362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEingHdKX6C2BeXmQ0O5p2QwPB2wUQ2rXMagyEgmG-2PLHXtDnUfgR1cXgNt3gmwFpQMzFSI-GqoGgXVcDNOp7QS6vExhFNmNXkpjKvhFVElHNBb6_crYVXYHG-aeobAobGFIEXPcAD5Xuk/s320/DSCN1312.jpg" /></a> I love every one of them ....<br /><div></div>kmsavhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659523849195478760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6586532314170317852.post-50638529749278369932010-05-17T15:09:00.000-07:002010-05-18T07:28:33.201-07:00WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: white; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1abzxcFDhPYIMXoD0RhyphenhyphenAtv-LYxX9ed4zLidkhlwXDzMvF2p0xOpkn9ULXF9R1WDaQ2hC8c36824Deyt8-vUJPHpLCUF2mXBoixXbM73FCKgMszff3NBIKBhn3BFXoB7HGo1JUTzMOMk/s1600/icey+river.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1abzxcFDhPYIMXoD0RhyphenhyphenAtv-LYxX9ed4zLidkhlwXDzMvF2p0xOpkn9ULXF9R1WDaQ2hC8c36824Deyt8-vUJPHpLCUF2mXBoixXbM73FCKgMszff3NBIKBhn3BFXoB7HGo1JUTzMOMk/s320/icey+river.jpg" /></div><div style="color: white;">Fish Tugs of the Greatest Lake</div><div style="color: white;">Jolene</div><img height="286" src="http://www.harveyhadland.com/Images/Jolene2.jpg" width="400" /><br />
<div style="color: white;"><b>JOLENE</b> 248708 Built by Burger Boat Co. in 1945 for Joseph Felbinger, Chicago, Ill., the 55 ft. x 14 ft all steel vessel was equipped with a 100-120 hp Kahlenberg oil engine. MVUS lists Felbinger as owner until 1974, Marie Wisocki, Chicago, 1975-1981; Jeffrey Furness, Michigan City, Ind., in 1989, and Paragon Fish Corp.(Dan Anderson), Milwaukee, up to the present. Furness was the owner for a number of years, and repowered with a Volvo diesel. Anderson has repowered with a Caterpillar D3406 diesel, and still owns the boat.</div><div style="color: white;">The <b>JOLENE</b> made news in August, 2006, when the boat freed the grounded 68-foot yacht of basketball star Latrell Sprewell, after unsuccessful attempts by the Coast Guard and the Milwaukee Police harbor unit.</div>breezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15651424429734589118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6586532314170317852.post-3217115069169521242010-05-13T16:37:00.000-07:002010-05-13T16:47:45.707-07:00Poppies<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWbOFeahrVYSQmDP4ly0gGndEOzSZBqXlOa06ptIljn8xVshjr_7gMcYoEL93dYH5_A53oSmmr607SEl5yRq0o8p_x3FrgT9duMg9zsie2ZpxtZPYWViBPeDf9rkgKGThfLeZzznmnLSA/s1600/DSCN1191.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470905463274571314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWbOFeahrVYSQmDP4ly0gGndEOzSZBqXlOa06ptIljn8xVshjr_7gMcYoEL93dYH5_A53oSmmr607SEl5yRq0o8p_x3FrgT9duMg9zsie2ZpxtZPYWViBPeDf9rkgKGThfLeZzznmnLSA/s320/DSCN1191.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Orange flowers, Spring bloom</div><br /><div>Rise from the ground like fire</div><br /><div>Fragile and strong, us</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>kmsavhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659523849195478760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6586532314170317852.post-61073375727658095372010-05-06T14:42:00.001-07:002010-05-06T14:45:03.656-07:00Ride anyone?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQvLqYPGeio__r9nxAldo2nTfIsDU0bpG5EJI6viw71fIwM4V3sXItQf_Bcd99PoTFNTRhA7s0dHVhkwkEHdy1Tec1nFrrhn59fh1M259qo8FWMi1MCw6q0L8SJ2z4PDCVyZfF4KKukyk/s1600/DSCN1175.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468276225950850866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQvLqYPGeio__r9nxAldo2nTfIsDU0bpG5EJI6viw71fIwM4V3sXItQf_Bcd99PoTFNTRhA7s0dHVhkwkEHdy1Tec1nFrrhn59fh1M259qo8FWMi1MCw6q0L8SJ2z4PDCVyZfF4KKukyk/s320/DSCN1175.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc1wEwxfI4RCiBpgN_6DksNxLuUcCQ_nUpIJzDptwwMkhjHtS3yaGVO2YjjZGyWMZZNquEr_gf4VCJO4pmKKq2qJTxMsEd_JnYei0Y3DNDlxdU3GtbECCcIOyL1Gj8Hlj8_uJZzQ-yn0I/s1600/DSCN1173.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468276178099524658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc1wEwxfI4RCiBpgN_6DksNxLuUcCQ_nUpIJzDptwwMkhjHtS3yaGVO2YjjZGyWMZZNquEr_gf4VCJO4pmKKq2qJTxMsEd_JnYei0Y3DNDlxdU3GtbECCcIOyL1Gj8Hlj8_uJZzQ-yn0I/s320/DSCN1173.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div></div></div>kmsavhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659523849195478760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6586532314170317852.post-56334595501030021212010-05-02T18:09:00.000-07:002010-05-02T18:22:08.512-07:00The Wizard of Gripes<a style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZFweyrjVamW5ZZb9_Cpd3J1Fe05S1XMNkWwbRkNWBMW0VlJgLB2XGyMNzUow_WznB2AeBNCE6LE89gwPo0xCL9XcnTypZTJA7lwAGzJBOiP3NJH4_hESSYFDK4Q8gjJ3CUxy8FYv2PaZY/s1600/DSCN0768.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 430px; height: 322px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZFweyrjVamW5ZZb9_Cpd3J1Fe05S1XMNkWwbRkNWBMW0VlJgLB2XGyMNzUow_WznB2AeBNCE6LE89gwPo0xCL9XcnTypZTJA7lwAGzJBOiP3NJH4_hESSYFDK4Q8gjJ3CUxy8FYv2PaZY/s320/DSCN0768.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466845392406478242" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:courier new;" >During a recent visit to Portland, Oregon I find myself wondering <span style="font-style: italic;">what went wrong in the Midwest</span>? Why is it that the coasts seem to be the locations dominated by the idea of ending sprawl with their fancy environmentally conscious metro systems, pedestrian friendly areas, and a limit of one fast food restaurant per mile instead of per foot? Did "The Wizard of Oz" not get the message across regarding coastal train barons and the non-wealthy person's plight for economically sound investments? *sigh* I'm moving to France.</span>bellamariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05806128229784179741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6586532314170317852.post-29173661537542491362010-04-30T17:42:00.000-07:002010-04-30T17:47:15.407-07:00window to the past<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipAG07PGFvuS6THRCTv4YHwwx-twVIyNI7XUGeUa7g8PTGb7JhkLjP1Kd9UPvXBJgqD8OyY8ARG6Aphm5RQvR8X4SQSklhe3gt0SIRYomOmd2ix9L3NbHk1Y98kgE9OyU6FcSjkvRk63w/s1600/DSCN1151.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466095790551445730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipAG07PGFvuS6THRCTv4YHwwx-twVIyNI7XUGeUa7g8PTGb7JhkLjP1Kd9UPvXBJgqD8OyY8ARG6Aphm5RQvR8X4SQSklhe3gt0SIRYomOmd2ix9L3NbHk1Y98kgE9OyU6FcSjkvRk63w/s320/DSCN1151.jpg" /></a><br /><div>In today's travels, I found this remains of a stone house off an old road outside Filmore. I pulled in the grassy, overgrown drive and got out to look at what was once someone's home. This view is from the outside, looking in through the window. It sort of felt as if someone was looking back at me.</div>kmsavhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659523849195478760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6586532314170317852.post-80194109020326922602010-04-29T18:05:00.001-07:002010-04-29T18:14:02.616-07:00another time<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9GX5kzJ-klqqZ6pqZWKOVsclVtFb79b-W6WzGBK0cxCf8vTaek5BUSAqEYCoqUf2P7cn1gNYwdN3JAmqUhAuxJxyHJCxHq8O6dYBJfI7clwoAWppzCM26NSTKk9Sm5FYcswfmkczx5aI/s1600/DSCN1113.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465730954316041250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9GX5kzJ-klqqZ6pqZWKOVsclVtFb79b-W6WzGBK0cxCf8vTaek5BUSAqEYCoqUf2P7cn1gNYwdN3JAmqUhAuxJxyHJCxHq8O6dYBJfI7clwoAWppzCM26NSTKk9Sm5FYcswfmkczx5aI/s320/DSCN1113.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Another day, another drive. Again, somewhere in the middle of somewhere, I came to a corner where the shell of a church was left standing. My mind went to a time of families arriving by horse and carriage. Dirt roads, dusty air. </div>kmsavhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659523849195478760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6586532314170317852.post-62735593786091237632010-04-28T21:39:00.001-07:002010-04-28T21:48:05.279-07:00A crumbled past...<img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465414881978486210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ5ngjsiadlq9i1zhjicRCrDe0OKMKK-ItUo-2LpbDS6keEgAxt2q1m9bLqFaj6Vxe3I9d-19CPPwqsrLUmR1ZRaAo1ixzuEPBBy9VIa1gDtCHSsEk2Hpxv9PtqQwOvvGvPnjbUlr4ByM/s320/DSCN1136.jpg" /><br /><br />Driving somewhere north/northwest of Ozaukee County, I took a turn down a road that had no markings or signs. I wasn't even sure it was an actual road. I couldn't help but stop for this photo. Once this building stood solid. For how long? Why did someone stop using it? Was it empty when it crumbled? Was anyone around when it finally fell? What did it hold? Why weren't there any other buildings around? What happened to everyone and everything?kmsavhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659523849195478760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6586532314170317852.post-66309320487365631232010-04-17T05:09:00.000-07:002010-04-23T10:46:26.185-07:00I don't understand these people<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dGO-fF1XFRQB4MV3LrnMKvZMt-0AtrG3Au4X6pCgNGnYyYhGOjwoKCb0A-BR7028V4V2sznBXIbFqguxse4-TJwIr3fElVdpvL87Rfu5f1Za3v3hIi5tzwcLLT175C2NIMEw9csMiME/s1600/DSCN0454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dGO-fF1XFRQB4MV3LrnMKvZMt-0AtrG3Au4X6pCgNGnYyYhGOjwoKCb0A-BR7028V4V2sznBXIbFqguxse4-TJwIr3fElVdpvL87Rfu5f1Za3v3hIi5tzwcLLT175C2NIMEw9csMiME/s200/DSCN0454.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>There are milk cartons all over this house ... and no one is tossing them to me and making me chase after them. They are just ignoring me. What's the use of having great cartons when people just go about their business and let me sit here. I have been sitting here for over five minutes (I think).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJVd0bHFL2bRVZY8zU2l00mL30dusiuhj2Yy1VdLLg4u8lj1jZ7K2vYKgvxanOAulL6hLK0gfUdGaMIb4lq2RkdrgmbA-uUAHoVC9wHLcyMLp5-50jNWDdaaruzLcg5525jhaM28eSJcs/s1600/DSCN0455.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJVd0bHFL2bRVZY8zU2l00mL30dusiuhj2Yy1VdLLg4u8lj1jZ7K2vYKgvxanOAulL6hLK0gfUdGaMIb4lq2RkdrgmbA-uUAHoVC9wHLcyMLp5-50jNWDdaaruzLcg5525jhaM28eSJcs/s200/DSCN0455.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Well at least I'm not locked outside with that German Shepard bitch. She is soooo bossy. If anyone throws food to us she gets it all EVERY TIME. I don't know.... one of us even pooped all over my dog house to claim it....was that me, I don't remember.<br />
See that Chewies box, yeah I have them hidden all over the house. They give them to me and I hide them....I don't really know why, it's a cultural imperative for Jack Russell mixes I think. Dang I wish I was chasing a milk carton.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>breezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15651424429734589118noreply@blogger.com0