Barra de Navidad, Mexico - April 14, 2019

It takes 18 days. 

Mast off and shade cover up

Gear from EM packed up

Our first day in Barra de Navidad and we feel, as Shay put it, “like we were slammed against a truck, multiple times.” We are very weary. Bone tired. No energy to visit Barra. We drove around once when we first arrived but since then we have been resting from the past 5 months of boat yard labor. Everything hurts, doing yoga this morning was terribly painful as its been months since Ive done anything other than stretch my legs a bit. There are knots and bruises everywhere and I just wanted to lay on the mat and take a nap.

Its an odd feeling to be stopped. We have nothing to do, nothing to fix, or wrestle off or on the boat, to paint, fasten, bang, unscrew, haul to the garbage, the swap meet, the other boat. We walk around the condo aimlessly, like our bodies can’t be still.

I feel weirdly guilty for doing practically nothing today. It feels like I’m supposed to be doing, getting done, focusing, but instead I am lazy/weary. 

It took 3 days to drive down from Guaymas. We stayed in Culiacan the first night. A big town on the highway, got up early and drive another 10 yours past Chakala, San Blas, and Mazatlan and thought about sailing north in Eileen May about the same time last year. Its weird and complicated, this journey we are on. 

Eileen May has probably been taken out to sea and scuttled by now. It somehow makes the memories of the our first and only voyage with her different.

The second night we stayed in Guayabito and then visited San Francisco for breakfast and then Puerto Vallarta to order much needed eye glasses from Costco, past Banderas Bay, Chemala, Tentacatia, all more anchorages that we visited with EM. 

And finally, we made it to Barra.

We are grateful. And excited to be here. But it’s unsettling. So much has happened in the past 5 months I don’t know how to process it yet. I hope that eating better now that we have a kitchen and having some fun swimming and walking, visiting friends will slowly untangle the knots and spasms  and will allow our bodies and souls a little healing. 

We did make an effort to take a walk this evening on the beach. We got about 200 feet and sat down to watch the waves and rest. “How many days did it take us to dismantle Eileen May?, “ I ask Shay. “Two and half week,” she replies. 

Eighteen days. It takes 18 days to tear apart a sailboat.  This is amazing to me. What a feat. I feel strangely prideful, but don’t think I should be for some reason. 

For 18 days we removed appliances, hoses, wire and more wire, plumbing, toilets, sinks, fuel and fuel tanks, electronics, a stove, rigging, a mast, an engine, so much stuff. 

The church in Guayabito

Some sold, some trashed, some stored under Holoholo, all of it had to be torn, unbolted, unscrewed, grinded, drilled, cut off and brought down a 12 ft ladder and then cleaned and stowed. Some items found new homes on other boats, or were given away to locals. We hope to sell enough gear to recoup the cost of funeral expenses for EM and yard fees. But it’s done now. She’s empty. And at the bottom of the Sea of Cortez. 

So far the universe is telling us that all is well because here we sit in a beautiful condo in Barra due to the generosity of people we don’t know well, yet. Its hard to feel sad when we have been given such wonderful gifts this season. Good reminders that there are unexpected wonders in an unconventional lifestyle. That loss bears fruit also. And we LOVE fruit.