Differentboats
On Tuesday we drove to the Sea Of Cortez and hired a boat to drop us on a white sand beach.
The trip took just 15 mins over a glassy sea, and when we disembarked in waist deep water near the beach, the captain, Rafael, told us he’d return at 3:30pm to pick us up.
Gracias.
We waded to the beach, ogling the turquoise water, sugary sand and pink-salt painted desert. We set up towels. Sunscreened. And chilled. The. F. Out.
Oooh, we have beers, I remembered. And pulled two still-cold Pacificos from our Backpack Pro.
No openers though, so I unhooked the buckle and leveraged it between my hand and the bottle cap. Pop, pop. I know I’m not the first to do this, but I’ve always appreciated using something for what it can do, rather than what it’s designed to do. Solving problems.
Our few hours on the beach were bliss, but the wind built throughout the day. By the time Rafael picked us up, we’re holding onto our hats so they don’t blow away. We climbed aboard and he pined it — in the wrong direction.
Aren’t we that way? Dana asks me, pointing south.
The tide had dropped. Probably just going around some reef, I reply.
But after five minutes heading north, I had to ask, Rafael, isn’t this the wrong way?
With the wind and the tide, there are too many waves where we launched, he explained. We’ll go around the corner and get a ride back to the cars.
OK.
When we arrived ‘around the corner’ there was a Ford F-250 backed into a launch with its trailer half submerged, and Rafael didn’t break pace as he braaped the boat up the trailer at the perfect speed, locking into place without anyone getting out of their seat.
The truck pulled away and sped down the highway, back to our cars, as we pointed out mutant cacti and soaring caracara birds from the bow of our terrestrial speedboat. I gave Rafael a nod. Solving problems.
The trip took just 15 mins over a glassy sea, and when we disembarked in waist deep water near the beach, the captain, Rafael, told us he’d return at 3:30pm to pick us up.
Gracias.
We waded to the beach, ogling the turquoise water, sugary sand and pink-salt painted desert. We set up towels. Sunscreened. And chilled. The. F. Out.
Oooh, we have beers, I remembered. And pulled two still-cold Pacificos from our Backpack Pro.
No openers though, so I unhooked the buckle and leveraged it between my hand and the bottle cap. Pop, pop. I know I’m not the first to do this, but I’ve always appreciated using something for what it can do, rather than what it’s designed to do. Solving problems.
Our few hours on the beach were bliss, but the wind built throughout the day. By the time Rafael picked us up, we’re holding onto our hats so they don’t blow away. We climbed aboard and he pined it — in the wrong direction.
Aren’t we that way? Dana asks me, pointing south.
The tide had dropped. Probably just going around some reef, I reply.
But after five minutes heading north, I had to ask, Rafael, isn’t this the wrong way?
With the wind and the tide, there are too many waves where we launched, he explained. We’ll go around the corner and get a ride back to the cars.
OK.
When we arrived ‘around the corner’ there was a Ford F-250 backed into a launch with its trailer half submerged, and Rafael didn’t break pace as he braaped the boat up the trailer at the perfect speed, locking into place without anyone getting out of their seat.
The truck pulled away and sped down the highway, back to our cars, as we pointed out mutant cacti and soaring caracara birds from the bow of our terrestrial speedboat. I gave Rafael a nod. Solving problems.