Beautiful Bahia Concepcion

Espiritu rests in the anchorage at Playa Burro in Bahia Concepcion 

We spent two weeks in beautiful Bahia Concepcion on the Sea of Cortez.

After sailing north from the Loreto area, we made 

the left turn into the very protected Bahia Concepcion. 

Espiritu sits at anchor in blessed solitude at gorgeous Playa Santa Domingo

 at the mouth of Bahia Concepcion

Yes, we're sailing in paradise, and it's lovely. But there are inconveniences. Like bees.

Dozens of bees swarm the cockpit of Espiritu 

Welcome to my nightmare.

(courtesy of the Huffington Post)

At first seeing dozens of bees flying about the boat is, of course, a bit unsettling. But then we learned that they are not interested in us humans. What they are looking for is fresh water to drink. Turns out bees are just like humans -- they need their 8 (teeny-tiny bee sized) glasses a day. 

And when you're a dehydrated bee in the middle of the parched desert, seeing a sailboat with gallons and gallons of fresh water aboard pop over the horizon is surely a happy sight.

So we learned some simple tips to keep the bees at bay, like drying the cockpit immediately after showering. 

After one night alone (well, not completely alone -- just us and the bees!) 

our friends aboard s/v DeJaLa arrived and dropped anchor.

The official doggy of s/v DeJaLa has his own cute little doggie door!

After a couple of days here, we pulled anchor and headed southwest, deeper into Bahia Concepcion. Our destination was Playa Burro, where gringo Geary lives. 

We had been hearing about him for weeks: he left the states 20 years ago and moved into a tiny shack on the water where he has lived by himself ever since providing SSB weather to cruising sailors.

Also, he throws a big gringo July 4th party every year, with fireworks! Naturally, we wanted to be a part of it and to meet this mythical creature Geary.

This was our first view of Playa Burro as we entered the harbor. 

A thunderstorm gathered in the distance. 

The storm soon cleared, so we went ashore to explore with Mark of s/v Trovita.

Mark and Chris take the first look around heavenly Playa Burro

We heard that Olivia Newton John and Sammy Hagar's drummer have places down here. 

Maybe this is where Olivia Newton John gets mellow...

Chris and Mark explore the beach. Geary tells us he was the first person to build his home here. Over the past 20 years, many have followed his example.

Playa Burro beauty

You may wonder how these people living in these humble beach shacks deal with the thirsty bee problem. 

Their solution was kinda smart and kinda horrifying:

They have a little container of water set out next to one of the homes for the bees -- I call it the thirsty bee community pool. Yikes. Seems like a good idea, unless someone accidentally trips over it...

Looks like someone down here is from North Dakota! :-)

This is how they walk their dog in Playa Burro

Humorous shark and Canadian geese decoys float in the bay

Kayak rental

Obviously it's gorgeous in Playa Burro. But there is nothing here but the few beach shacks.

We heard there was a tiny tienda about a mile up the road, so we donned 

our hats and sunscreen and headed out. 

There was a freak snowstorm/hailstorm at Playa Burro!

Just kidding. It's not snow or hail -- it's salt. But it crunched just like snow as I walked across it. 

Made me think of home at Green Valley Lake. :-) 

But soon enough, visions of snowdrifts were melted from my mind as we walked across the desert.

The road to Playa Burro

And, if I haven't mentioned it lately, it's hot. It's July in the Mexican desert.

The glue holding this guys shoes together literally melted in the heat, 

and his soles simply slid right off. 

Welcome to Mexico!

Finally we found Senora Bertha's teeny tiny little tienda.

Chris and Mark enjoy a cold drink at Senora Berthas lovingly tended tienda. 

It was truly like an oasis in the desert! 

During our 10 days at Playa Burro, I visited Senora Bertha and her family several times to see what was new in the tienda. On a good day, she would be selling recently received fresh avocados, mangos, tortillas and diet sodas. 

Senora Bertha and her niece enjoy a telenovela to help pass the 

time during the long desert afternoon

I grew to love Senora Bertha during our sort stay at Playa Burro. Something about her no-nonsense, take-no-prisoners demeanor made me want her to like me. Also, she wears her hair in an intimidating super short, spiky cut that actually inspired a bit of fear in me. She is the matriarch here -- she's in charge -- no bones about it. 

 I wanted to earn her respect.

In the American casual tradition, I usually call new friends simply by their first names after I meet them, even here in conservative Mexico.

But I always called Senora Bertha by her full respected name with the title -- Senora Bertha.

Me and Senora Bertha. I'm sure she's frowning because she knows I'm sailing 

north, and she'll miss me when I'm gone. That's my hope, anyway. 

We hiked to some ancient petroglyphs in the hills above Playa Burro.

 Obviously fishing was a big deal to these guys so long ago

Speaking of fishing, there is a reef at Playa Burro but the fish stocks seemed pretty fished out. I did manage to spear a triggerfish, though -- my second kill of the season. There were billions and billions of baby fish swimming around, though, so maybe there's hope for the future. 

Life may be peaceful for Geary and his friends living at Playa Burro, but it's not easy. They are completely off the grid. That means solar panels, propane tanks, composting toilets, and driving into the city of Muleje once a week to buy water, which he Geary hauls back to his home in a giant water barrel in the back of his truck.

Geary offered us a ride into Muleje, the nearest town, which is 17 miles up the highway.

Oh, noes. Not 5 miles into our trip, Geary's truck overheated. The guys rigged 

       something up -- don't ask me what it was. But soon enough we were back on 

the road keeping a close eye on the temperature gauge. 

On the drive to Muleje we passed several beautiful bays.

Playa El Coco is just one of several beautiful beaches in Bahia Concepcion

A dog rests under a blooming tree in the center of Muleje 

Muleje is the only actual town for miles around, and although it's on the coast of Bahia Concepcion, there is no good anchorage for sailors there. So if you want to visit you need to catch a ride from one of the anchorages deeper in the bay, as we did.

We got our propane tank filled at Casa Yee, which was established here by Chinese 

immigrants in 1907, and now is just another Mexican tienda

Muleje tire staircase

Well, word gets around about Gary's big July 4th blowout, so by the 4th there were 11 sailboats anchored in the harbor ready to celebrate.

An ice cream truck came over from Muleje and made a killing off of the gringos

Gary provided the hot dogs, and we had a big potluck on the beach. But the real attraction was yet to come after the sun went down. Geary had been working with his contacts for weeks in preparation for the July 4th fireworks. All of the guys couldn't wait to help Geary light them up.

Mexican fireworks...being lit up by guys who have been drinking all day.

No thanks. 

Nurse Liz retired to Espiritu to watch the festivities from the shelter of our floating home -- with the VHF on Channel 16 in case my nursing duties would be needed ashore.

OK, Geary's mexican fireworks weren't this bad. 

But it was probably close. 

Fortunately the evening passed without incident, and a fine time was had by all.

The next night we all met for a final dinner at the tiny bar/restaurant JC's in Playa Burro.

JC's bar and restaurant in Playa Burro

The next day, everyone pulled anchor and sailed away, leaving Geary and his few full time neighbors to the peace and quiet of Playa Burro.

As we all sailed away, Geary blasted a loud bagpipe-version of Amazing Grace from his solar-powered stereo out into the bay in tribute. 

It was goodbye for now. But we'll be back!

Checking in at La Ramada

Sunbeams burst forth at La Ramada sunrise

After pulling anchor at Isla Coronados, we sailed north towards our destination of La Ramada.

Dolphins swam and danced before Espiritu's bow wake

Captain Chris, happy to be at sea

We spent several days anchored at the small bay of La Ramada. It's kind of like the hotel except there's no food, no cable, no room service, and no noisy neighbors keeping you up at night. 

And, unlike the Ramada Hotel, dropping the hook in La Ramada is absolutely FREE. :-) 

La Ramada is about halfway between Loreto and Bahia Concepcion

Pretty, isn't it?

We spent several days anchored at this isolated, desolate place with our friends aboard s/v Trovita and s/v Neeltcke. It was lovely -- however, after almost two weeks away from Loreto and a grocery store of any kind, our veggie hammock looked like this:

Yep. That's one sad little onion where two weeks previous there had 

been a great bounty of papayas, bananas, avocados, mangos, etc. Yikes. 

Thank God we had our watermaker, at least! When one finds oneself in an isolated, harsh environment with nothing but canned food, one realizes that all that is really important is fresh water, and of course, COFFEE (which we have plenty of).  

But there are no serious reefs for spearfishing in La Ramada. And we were almost out of bread, tortillas and eggs as well as fresh produce.

We had heard stories from other cruisers that there was a farm somewhere inland that might sell us some produce if we were nice. This mythical "farm" -- if it even existed -- was said to be about a mile's walk up the dusty dirt road into the desert. 

A farm, in the middle of the desert?

We were doubtful, but we were also down to just one onion. 

"A day without fun is a day that eats shit." -- Hunter. S. Thompson

My point is, it's up to us to find the fun in even the simplest of our daily activities. That's one of the things I love the most about cruising. You could say that we were trapped in the hot desert without fresh food and now we had to trudge up a long dirt road in hopes of getting scraps from some farm that may or may not even be there?

Or, you could say: 

Well, it's a beautiful day for a hike. We've never been here before (in fact, few humans ever have or ever will be), so we may as well make an adventure of it and go exploring! Sounds like FUN! 

We packed up several bottles of water, slathered on the sunscreen and headed into the desert. 

The dirt road to the mythical farm in the middle of the desert

After walking for about a half an hour, we heard some ominous growling sounds coming from under a bush.  Curious as to what type of mammal would be able to survive in such harsh conditions, I slowly approached the source of the scary animal noises.

WHAAA? What in the hell is that? A wolverine?

Chris begged me to keep my distance, which I did -- not based on his appearance (cute and cuddly) but by the scary, growling sounds it was making.

I found out later it was the Baja version of an American Badger.

As this photo from the Arizona Independent shows, 

they are not to be messed with. 

Also, look at those claws!

After a few minutes observing (at a safe distance -- don't worry, Dad!) our new, violent 

little friend in the wild, we continued on up the dirt road deeper into the desert. 

Gringos trudge through the desert on what might quite possibly be the dirt road to nowhere. 

It was beautiful, though. The desert is growing on me. 

After about an hour we came to a fork in the road. We turned right and hoped for the best.

And suddenly, we were there! The farm in the desert was real, 

and it had a name: Rancho Escondido!

You've never seen a woman so happy to have 3 tomatoes, 

one cucumber and one garlic!

But wait -- there's more!

He also had a tropical, desert island, palapa style chicken coop, and sold 

us a dozen fresh eggs for about $1.50 U.S. 

Rancher Jose took us on a tour of his little place. There was a large, clean palapa 

with several lovingly maintained saddles

I spent several minutes giving this beautifully groomed horse a good scratch. See the outhouse in the distance? I walked towards it to do my business, but as I came close I heard ominous growling noises coming from the bush next to the outhouse. 

I'm fairly certain it was our friend the badger who had followed us to the ranch. I never saw him, but despite my serious need to relieve myself, the badger won out and I let him be. 

I guess he deemed himself Lord of the (outhouse) Manor. 

"Stay away from my outhouse..." the badger 

wheezed and sneered ominously...

Okee dokee. It's all yours, dude. It's not as if we're surrounded by miles and miles of empty desert where I can take care of business in perfect peace and harmony...

We made it back to Espiritu safe and sound with our bounty from Rancho Escondido. I'd call that a very good day.

In other news, after weeks of Chris valiantly attempting to keep him alive, we can now make the announcement:

My Kindle is dead.

 (courtesy of Alan Dapre)

So, like the word addict I am, I've been feverishly shoring up and storing up

 actual books from exchanges all over Baja. 

My favorites remain biographies, autobiographies and memoirs. 

Me reading a Jacques Cousteau bio

Being of the female persuasion, my absolute favorites are memoirs and biographies of great women. But when the average cruiser book exchange is 75% Tom Clancy, James Patterson and Jackie Collins,  my favorite genre is slim pickings indeed.

I was so desperate for female biographies that I even 

read -- cover to cover -- "The story of Justin Beiber's Mom." 

Yes. Boredom and desperation will do that to a person.

I love it when fellow cruisers insist that they only read the classics. It's only Dostoyevsky, Chaucer and Dickens for them. Well. It's not that I don't believe them, exactly...

...well, OK, I'll say it. I don't believe them. 

But it's not only the autobiography of Justin Beiber's mom for me. I, too, recently read a classic.

Yes, I read Hamlet from cover to cover.

OK, OK, it was the abridged-comic book-graphic novel Hamlet. 

But still.

Better the abridged-comic book-graphic novel Hamlet than none at all.

At least now I know what people are talking about when they say that

 Rozencranz and Gildenstern are dead. 

We're currently at the marina in Santa Rosalia doing minor boat repairs. All is well!

Good luck with things up there in the U.S. We leave the country for a few short months and almost immediately things start falling apart in our beloved home country. 

We, and the world -- are watching. 

Let's keep it smart and sane up there. Please.