Around age six the kids started asking life’s big questions. “Why don’t my own farts smell bad?”, was one such conversation. We didn’t have the scientific answer, but discussed it a little. After some thought, six-year-old West concluded: “Well, it’s a good thing I do most of the farting around here.”

This seems somehow relevant six years later, when the four of us now live in approximately 250 square feet, and spend almost every waking moment together. Sharing tight quarters has its joys and its challenges. Me time is hard to come by, and every single conversation is a family affair.

Heading out on an excursion one day I asked Sarah if she was going to put on sun screen.

“No way, I just showered, I’ll just wear a hat and run from shade to shade.”

“Oh really, so you’re going to take the rhythm method approach to skin cancer prevention?”

The kids perk up. “What’s the ‘rhythm method’ Dad?”

Sigh. I just landed a serious dinger against Sarah in our ongoing sunscreen quarrel, but rather than press my advantage, we digress into ineffective family planning strategies. Lucky break Sarah.

From Bahia Magdalena we sailed our small space for 2 nights, passing the outlying rock towers of Cabo San Lucas on the morning of November 25^th.

We could see our anchor perfectly as it sank into the sand bottom in 30 feet of clear 24 degree water. For the first time that any of us can remember, Sarah was the first to jump in.

We had been warned that this anchorage could be chaotic, with jet-skis and tourist boats. Many reviewing sailors absolutely loathe it, but it seemed tranquil that morning, with 2 cruise ships swinging lazily at anchor and the resort community just waking up.

Around 11am I watched a single jet-ski buzz past us. “I don’t know what all the fuss is about, this doesn’t seem so bad”, said Noah, as the first drop of rain splatted onto the ark.

By lunchtime an inundation of jet-skis was roaring around us, joined by panga tours, lunch barges, sailing tours, and speed boats towing banana-rafts and para-sailors. Mandolyn was bucking like she was out at sea. Swimming was out of the question, and a dinghy ride to town had become a survival exercise. We took in the spectacle with amused disbelief. I guess this is what the fuss was about.

Despite the chaos we really enjoyed Cabo. Like in other cruise ship ports, the tourists become part of the attraction. After dark, brightly lit pirate dinner cruises circle around along with raucous party barges dropping beats and shrieks, while multiple fireworks displays erupt from shore. We spent 3 nights there before turning back north into the Gulf of California.

A few days later we arrived at the city of La Paz (The Peace), which was the opposite of Cabo in many ways. The anchorage was calm and protected, a paradise to the large community of sailors who spend time there. It doesn’t have a cruise ship port, and the local tourism industry seemed more laid back.

We knew there were other cruising families in La Paz, so we were on high alert for potential friends. At a pancake breakfast run by the local sailing club we spotted a family a few tables away, but there was no room to move in. We were discussing possible attack strategies, when suddenly we were surrounded by yet another family. They had seen us as they arrived and pounced immediately. Smart. The predator had become the prey!

We celebrated the kids 12^th birthday in La Paz, joined by a few other boating families. We spent many evenings cruising along the Malecón (seaside boardwalk), and sampled some new types of street food. We did our usual running around for boat maintenance and provisioning.

The only downside of La Paz was that it’s not recommended to swim in the anchorage, and we couldn’t find any showers ashore. Hygiene was a challenge. It’s a good thing my room mates are very understanding.

Next stop, mainland Mexico!

Photos…