The Eve of the Third Voyage: In which we say goodbye to San Diego…finally.

Knowing that we would be sitting tight for a month (or more) waiting on the generator, we had made a list of everything else that could potentially give us trouble, had each one inspected, and performed any needed repairs. These included the roller furling systems on the main and mizzen (letting out and bringing in the sails is kind of important, especially when you’re on a sailboat); the windlass (because bringing up 300 feet of heavy chain by hand is a task of Sisyphean proportions); and anything sticking out from the underside of the boat like propellers, shafts, and rudders (because steering comes in handy). Check, check, and check. And with the new generator in place…checkmate. Game over, time to go. If anything else decides to crap out, it’s just going to have to wait and “averiarse en Mexico” because it’s time to make a run for the border.

That’s not to say we haven’t enjoyed our time here in San Diego. Granted, we’ve spent the majority of the past seven months preparing the boat (and us) for the voyage south, but we did a lot of fun things as well…

 

We procured an inexpensive rental car from Dirt Cheap Car Rentals (yes, really!) and got to know the city. Did you know that you can get anywhere in San Diego in ten minutes? Coming from Seattle where it takes ten minutes just to get to the next traffic light, it was so refreshing to actually spend more time driving your car than just sitting in it. Editor’s Note: We managed to lose the car keys after an afternoon spent in the bar at the Hotel del Coronado. They were eventually turned in to security but I had to describe the keys and the car they went to before they would turn them over. Google the Hotel del Coronado and you’ll understand why nothing knocks you down a few pegs like, “It’s a Ford Focus with a dent on the fender; a crack in the windshield; 247,000 miles on the odometer; and the key fob reads ‘Dirt Cheap’.”

We rented small boats in Mission Bay in a vain attempt to teach me some sail trimming skills and were surprised to discover that despite having been kicked out of three different summer camps as a kid, the Deck Boss was very skilled at the tiller. Editor’s Note: The Deck Boss claims she was never “kicked out” rather she was asked “not to return”. She’s vague as to why and we’re too scared to ask.

We had countless visitors (it’s amazing how a warm, year-round climate will attract people you haven’t seen in years) and we saw all the sights and did all the touristy things. From museums and attractions to boardwalks and theme parks, we discovered all kinds of wonderful things, learned a lot about the world around us, saw spectacles, interacted with animals, went on exhilarating (and sometimes very wet) rides, and found that not all park concessions are created equal (Best beer selection: SeaWorld and San Diego Zoo. Worst: Knott’s Berry Farm. Seriously? $11.50 for beer and all you have is Bud Light? More like Knott Very Fun.)   Editor’s Note: We talked the Deck Boss into going on the Jurassic Park water ride at Universal Studios. There’s an epic photo taken on the final plunge where she has the Captain’s t-shirt wrapped completely around her head and face mummy-style so as not to get wet. We so wanted to buy it but she threatened to stab us in our sleep if we did.

We even crossed the border into Tijuana to see what all the fuss was about (I’ll save you a trip, here’s a typical street scene in downtown TJ: pharmacy, pharmacy, NFL gear shop, pharmacy, cantina, donkey painted like a zebra, pharmacy, guy selling Viagra out of a coffee can, pharmacy, cantina, mariachi band, store selling sombreros and “Day of the Dead” stuff (all made in China), pharmacy, disco, guy selling Cialis out of an old cigar box, cantina. As this last cantina advertised a bucket of ten beers and a platter of nachos for $17 we figured we’d cut the rest of our pharmaceutical tour of TJ short.

We did have one bad experience in San Diego that came courtesy of a foul-tempered skunk and specifically Otter getting hit square in the face by said skunk. Now I’ve passed by squished skunks along the side of a road and I thought those were bad, but I tell you what… if Satan himself crawled out of a sulfur pit, ate two jalapeno chili cheese dogs and farted in a barnyard, it wouldn’t smell nearly as rank as a fresh dose of skunk. And the fact that the skunking went down at 1:00 in the morning was just the rancid cherry on top of the sh*t sundae. I won’t go into the details of what we went through trying to get the dog de-skunked, or how everything that came in contact with him had to be destroyed, or how it took three months before the smell completely went away, but suffice to say that we have become skunk-averse and paranoid. Otter is no longer allowed off leash after dark, he is forbidden from sticking his head into dense bushes, and any whiff of eau-de-skunk in the air results in an automatic detour to the other side of the city. It’s gotten so bad that a black and white cat appeared on the docks a couple weeks back and we nearly drop-kicked him into the water for looking “shifty”.

But I think it’s safe to say that, skunking aside, we really fell in love with San Diego. So much so that we found ourselves having philosophical “what if” discussions. What if we had moved here when we were married instead of Seattle? How different would our lives have been? Would we have eventually taken the beach, sun, and SoCal lifestyle for granted? Would we have lived here for 25 years, gone to Washington on vacation, fallen in love with Seattle, and wondered how different our lives would have been had we moved there instead? I guess life is filled with “what ifs”. Kind of like, “what if we sold everything, moved on a boat, and set out to wherever?” Our “what if” may very well turn out to be a “what the f***” but I don’t think we’ll ever look back on this and wonder, “what if we had stayed home?” Some “what ifs” are worth the effort.

Pictured: San Diego Love (aww!)

Not Pictured: The actual message..."Eat. Spray. Love. You're welcome. Signed, The Skunk"

Pictured: Early morning in the TJ tourist district

Not Pictured: A pharmacy. It took some doing to get a photo without one, but luckily the guy selling Extenze out of an old tackle box showed me exactly where to stand to get a good picture.

 

An interactive display at the Museum of Man's Cannibal Exhibit wherein you pretend to be lost at sea and draw straws to see who gets killed and eaten first. We're hoping it's not a harbinger of things to come.

 

In case you're wondering who drew the short straw, let's just say I think I would pair well with a nice Pinot Noir.

 

A big thank you to Sam and Gary at Record Marine Services. Without their herculean efforts, we’d never have been able to continue our journey. Seriously guys, it’s been emotional.

Pictured: Preparing the old generator for removal

Not Pictured: The 21-raspberry salute as it was hauled off to the junk yard 

 

Pictured: The new generator being lowered into the engine room

Not Pictured: A choir of angels, the Hallelujah chorus, and high-fives all around