Day 18-22 of the Third Voyage: In which we try to remember that (technically) there is no timeline which is why it’s called voyaging and not “three tickets to Aruba, please.”

The original plan was to spend about a week in Puerto Vallarta before continuing south to the Panama Canal. But mice, men, etc., etc.

In short (Ha! “In short”. That’s a good one!), three things happened that have caused us to reassess our timeline. First off, the windlass totally croaked. We had it checked out in San Diego right before we left—not because it wasn’t working, it was just a bit of preventive maintenance on one of the few systems that hadn’t crapped out on us yet—and the guy basically told us, “Maxwell makes a good windlass—a total workhorse. It looks like it was properly maintained and it’s in good shape, but you just never know how long these things will last. Just use it till it dies.” Fair enough. We took that to mean that yes, it was an older model but it still had a few good years left. No one thought it was sick. Who knew it was terminal? Needless to say a new one has been ordered and should be here in a week to ten days. Our timeline is officially out of whack.

Secondly, as long as we’re waiting on a windlass we may as well have the fuel delivery system looked at as the general consensus is that this is at the heart of the diesel’s deceleration problem. We really need to get to the bottom of this once and for all before the engine totally craps out on us while out in the middle of nowhere. And speaking of crapping out, we’re going to take this opportunity to have our head system overhauled—new pumps, hoses, etc. (For the lubbers, the head system is in fact the toilet and yes, “crapping out” is a literal as well as figurative term.) This would also be an ideal time to have the bottom scraped and the hull polished. Not to mention the Captain and I need to get busy on the varnishing before the sun burns it all off. So with the to-do list growing, our timeline is growing along with it.

And thirdly, word in the marina is that this year’s hurricane season is shaping up to be pretty active. Supposedly, southern Mexico and Central America are already getting hit with big weather (one couple made it 180 nm past Acapulco, didn’t like what they saw, and opted to return to Puerto Vallarta—that’s a long way to go to change your mind) and with this new equipment delay, our window for crossing the Gulf of Tehuantepec has all but closed. Editor’s Note: The Gulf of Tehuantepec is a nasty piece of business at the southern tip of Mexico. In the summer, it’s a breeding ground for Pacific hurricanes. In the winter and spring, it likes to kick up gale-force winds called (I kid you not) T-Peckers that extend up to 200 miles offshore and can’t be outrun. In the fall, you should just learn to love monsoons because there’s no way you’re staying dry. The absolute best time to cross is May and early June; the second best time to cross is November.

So the original timeline has been discarded and we have decided to stay put for the next few months. We should be okay. Puerto Vallarta is what’s known as a “hurricane hole” in that it sits in the middle of a very large bay (Bahia de Banderas) surrounded by mountains, the marinas are all somewhat inland among the estuaries, and the estuaries themselves are protected by the high-rise resort hotels that line the beach and take the edge off the winds.

Now if it sounds a bit like we’re trying to convince ourselves that staying here is a good decision, there’s probably some truth to that. After all, we had a plan! A strategy! An itinerary! A freezer, a pantry, a head, and a bilge overflowing with provisions! Dammit, we even had a stockpile of 520 coffee k-cups (enough to get us to El Salvador)! And yet here we are again at what seems like a standstill. But we know deep down that this is the right decision. If we leave in late October, the weather will be better; we’ll have more time to stop and enjoy the places along the way; we run a better chance of avoiding a T-Pecker; and, who knows, our Spanish-language skills might have moved beyond the “Me, Tarzan. You, Jane. Where store?” stage.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Pictured: Our new neighbor! I shall call him Edmundo!

Not Pictured: The look of utter disdain he gave us right before he did a swan dive off the stern and swam angrily to the other side of the marina.

Pictured: A typical street in downtown La Cruz--a fishing village just north of Nuevo Vallarta.

Not Pictured: A pharmacy. First town in Mexico that didn't have one on every corner!

Pictured: Another typical street.

Not Pictured: Still no pharmacy. They might be missing an opportunity here!

Pictured: After-dinner mints at the cantina where we had lunch.

Not Pictured: Too late. You're already picturing it.