Allora Voyage – Page 36 – The warmly cool, clear, ringing, perfumed, overflowing, redundant days, were as crystal goblets of Persian sherbet, heaped up – flaked up, with rose-water snow.

Short passage, long couple of days …

Just before we left La Cruz, Diana wondered aloud whether passages would ever feel routine, no big deal. I said I didn’t think so because you never know for sure what’s going to happen. We’ve made it to our planned destination just once out the last four passages. The first time because the wind was blowing a certain way, so why fight it? Then because we had an unexpected engine problem, we made a 90 degree turn for the mainland. On the next big crossing, we made it to Puerto Vallarta as planned, but this most recent trip (unplanned in the grand scheme) we aimed for Bahia Los Frailes and ended up in Puerto Los Cabos. The engine ran flawlessly, but not so my gut. Diana’s single handling skills were tested along with her doctoring skills, to make sure it was not appendicitis. We were pretty sure it was just bad food or water that had me laid out with a fever and nightmarish stomach cramps, but we headed for a port where we could find a doctor just in case, and Diana pulled an all nighter to get us there. It’s confidence building for both of us to know she can come up with the right treatment for me, while keeping Allora sailing along beautifully and reef the sails as she confirms her diagnosis via Sat phone.

I moved Marcus up on deck for awhile to change venues and give him some fresh, moving air. — I moved Captain Marcus up on deck for awhile to change venues and give him some fresh, moving air.

It was good to see MS able to sleep a bit.

Sunset over the Pacific. It's going to be a long night ... — Sunset over the Pacific. It’s going to be a long night …

Our modified course put us beating into the wind and waves - in the night they ranged from 3-7', but were closely spaced, so Allora worked hard to keep moving along. — Our modified course put us beating into the wind and waves – in the night they ranged from 3-7′, but were closely spaced, so Allora worked hard to keep moving along.

I kept a detailed log - mainly just to have something to focus on every half hour (and to keep track of Marcus' medicine schedule). — I kept a detailed log – mainly just to have something to focus on every half hour (and to keep track of Marcus’ medicine schedule).

An unexpected month in La Cruz de Huanacaxtle, Puerto Vallarta, Mexico

A 65 year old man our neighbors in La Cruz knew as an eccentric

disappeared on the way to the Marquesas, he’d brought along a young woman to crew (23)

he was a purist (a derogative)

maybe he had a hand held GPS, maybe he didn’t have anything

it’s her family who noticed she was missing

his boat was slow, heavy and slow

it’s been 45 days,

the question is,

did he have water?

There are a lot of questions.

Dona Mari collects the recycling out of the trash bins every morning and afternoon and walks it on the cobblestone streets who knows how far. She's a hero. — Dona Mari collects the recycling out of the trash bins every morning and afternoon and walks it on the cobblestone streets who knows how far. She’s a hero.

It would definitely pay to be a contortionist for most every job aboard.

These two guys had all things diesel to talk about for two straight days.

Eric trying to make some sense of our predicament. — Eric (Santa Barbara Yanmar pro) trying to make some sense of our predicament.

Our new awning! One advantage to staying in the same place long enough.

Dancing horses, lathered, one bloodied nose

long shank spade bits, mechanical hackamores and spurs

Corona Light has cornered the market

a gringa sharing a saddle that’s a tight fit,

she looks unsure of her own reaction

the vaquero expects applause perhaps

for his kidnapping, but gets little reaction

the band blasts, their indefatigable armature

and you can feel they’ve been at it for hours

and its not even dark, an alcoholic marathon

a young girl slips among the crowded feet

collects beer cans, neatly empties them and fills plastic bags

a plywood stage shakes and buckles, but survives

the stopping of dancers feet

men with their hands behind their backs

the women solemnly parade the saint before dancing

swirling skirts white and red

an aztec dance with rattles on the ankles

looks oddly Egyptian

quarter sticks of dynamite randomly rattle the windows

up the dirty cobblestone street,

behind a cyclone fence blocked with plastic tarps

a pile of losers

roosters who lost their fights

a thin man spitting and strutting (rubbing his nose nervously or)

calls out the time, as spurs are strapped on

and the “trainers” stretch the Gallo’s legs and antagonize them to fight

the current champ cradled waiting in his owners arms

new birds arrive in specially designed cardboard boxes,

with convenient handles, and professional logos of roosters

a young woman tosses water melted from the ice to keep the dust down

you need a ticket to see more than the blur of feathers

when occasionally they leap above two foot board of the fighting ring

men, and a couple women, watch dispassionately

the announcer calls out the stages of death

still flapping wings, dropped in the pile of losers

a truck arrives with more boxes (MS)