3 Boats Built In The Mexican High Desert 2014

BAD AIR BLUES, BABY........

Darn reality..... get's right in the way of my finest delusions.


After decades bopping about latin america, off and on, I guess it's been pure luck I haven't gotten malaria or dengue fever. (Wish I could have been so lucky in my early "Saturday Night Sportsman" merchant marine sailor gone dumb-ass days though.... but.... that's another story best told after 18 beers). And I have gotten mosquito bitten plenty of times in malarial zones too. But it's human nature to slowly and subtly forget history and to submerge key facts in favor of desire.

NOT your buddy.......

Coming back down to the malarial zones, especially after 6 lusciously cool years  in the pacific northwest, I've spoken with numerous expats who have had friends that have been infected with dengue or have had malaria themselves and it is not pretty, ace!! Last week a couple came through this altiplano campground who were huffing down anti-malarial cocktails and even that is not pretty.


Here's the british health services malaria zone map for travelers to Mexico:

Apparently the mosquitos respect the USA border (see, your Homeland Security tax dollars actually DO work). And here T and I are blundering around down in the darker area.... probably malarial in the lowlands though. This map is pretty generalized, as are the ones that follow of central america. For instance the west coast of baja has a very cool climate overall due to the cold ocean current offshore but I have heard of the rare malaria case even there.



What I am getting at here is malaria is no freaking trivial matter! Teddy (the rough rider himself) Roosevelt finally hung up his global spurs after getting malaria. Personally..... I have already gone through the chemical wringer with cancer and do not savor a parasite clogged bloodstream that might never clean up totally.



And it gets even dicier south of here. Here's Guatemala:

The highlands are pretty safe but lay down the smogscreen of DEET when you vacation on the coast, pal! Coastal living in Guatemala is just not acceptable because DEET eventually begins to toxify your skin. I know from building a 37 foot boat in a mosquito zone and after awhile the DEET just turned my skin instantly cherry red once I sprayed it on.


You can take your chances down on the coast..... wear long pants, sleep under a mosquito net at night, etc. but the parasitic grim reaper might get you with one random bite insect bite.



Guatemala has central americas highest mountains so has quite a lot of altiplano area (relatively) free of malaria to choose from. Not a lot of surfing and sailing going on up there though to please your average, run of the mill, anarcho-waterman.



Let's cross over to Honduras to the east. Maybe we can catch a burning fever  break over there:

Whoa...... I guess not. Actually there is a fair bit of altiplano in Honduras but I guess the brit health service decided to just write off the whole damn country. Oh well.... the USA went in there a few years ago and installed a military ruled government so it kinda goes against our general rule to avoid USA infected areas so goodbye Honduras. Nice islands out off the coast though.



Lets' head south into Nicaragua:

Well, well.... a malarial respite down in the south, according to our brit health service amigos. This coincides, roughly, with a area that was considered for a cross isthmus canal back in the day and San Juan del Sur is famous for consistent offshore breezes and good surfing waves as a result. Apparently the winds blow consistently from across lake Nicaragua so this must keep the bugs down a bit. Consistent with tradewind islands being malaria free often.



Forget Costa Rica...... expensive and too gringo-ized. Some reports state the CR expat community is beginning to shift over into Nicaragua just for this reason. CR was probably awesome back in the 50s and 60s. For now let's just cruise right on down and through to Panama:

Boquete, the current semi-altiplano darling of panama expats, is in a mild malarial zone? Maybe. T and I were there a few years ago and it's cool up there but not that cool..... and relatively close to the coast. Not known for malaria but it could happen, given a fish truck from the coast coming up and random mosquitos billowing out...... running rampant around town zapping hapless locals like a crazed weasel on meth.



You'd think Bocas del Toro, a fave anchorage of the international sailboat cruising community, would be immune due to being right smack in the tradewinds zone but I've heard it can get still there, glass off at night, and mosquitos can come off the mainland. (More and more crime there too against cruisers and expats.... oh well....).



But the azuero peninsula looks pretty good. T and I were also in Pedasi and the winds blew the WHOLE TIME we were there like a banshee, from the east to the west. Maybe you catch the same tradewind effect that clears off the bugs overall. And, for the aspiring waterman, good fishing and surfing there too. But.... Panama is much like CR cost wise. Not a good choice for the shoestring expatriate.



But.... let's qualify these maps overall. T and I were also recently in Ecuador, a month in the highlands at 7000 feet, and a month down at ocean level at Bahia de Caraquez, halfway up the coast:

I know from chatting up the locals that the southern coast of Ecuador has 6 months of the cool Humboldt current moderating its weather with strong onshore breezes and this goes all the way up to Bahia de Caraquez. T and I were there during that period. The other 6 months the warm current from Panama way comes down and it's pretty damn hot, with offshore breezes. This could be a malarial season so this map might be spot on. Notice the high, cool and relatively bug free central mountainous spine. Not a lot of waves up there, or sailboats. Oh well......



Just for shits and grins let's head on down the coast to Peru:

This is a supremely desert coast for the most part. Trujillo has eternal spring weather right on the coast all year due to the cold current offshore. And this extends right on down to the chilean border. Cross over the andean spine and you're into the amazon highlands and malaria city, compadre!!! No-No.



So..... let's recap here. From the perspective of the shoestring expatriate who is hard pressed, jack-wise, to cross the darien gap anytime soon. Maybe this is going to be you soon, driving down, finding your spot in the sun and out of the USSA microscope.



If you're not a aspiring waterman (or waterwoman) then there's plenty of altiplano spots for you to get your new life groove on. Eternal spring weather: no heating or cooling bills, flowers all year long, and if the climate change freakers are spot on you can keep going up the mountainside until you sit on the top in your underwear with a solar powered fan.



If you're a coastie then it's not near as wide open but from the maps above you have a shot in southern Nicaragua at San Juan del Sur and the coast abouts there or head south to Panama and go out on the azuero peninsula and hang in little burgeoning boutique town Pedasi or others on that coast. Friendly locals there and a pleasant rural groove.



Forget Mexico, for the long term. This place is going to the (drug cartel) dogs eventually and is the USSAs backyard playtoy.



You DO NOT want to catch malaria though. If you're tougher than Teddy Roosevelt then go for it. Our campground host, Del, caught malaria in Belize and it royally kicked his butt. There's even strains that eat your brain away and you basically can't recover from. I remember a international school recruiter from Guayaquil (Ecuador) who told me everyone eventually got dengue there like it was just something I'd have to accept as part of the package if I taught there. Nothing like a little cavalier atttitude to BREAKBONE FEVER funsies.



You pays yer ticket and takes yer chances, mate. Nothing like a little pre-planning though. And a shitpot of DEET.


EDITORS NOTE:  As in Tamara, the wife editor unit, who read this and quipped "You're gonna believe the british health service? The british are not the brightest bulbs on the planet.... they can't even keep their teeth clean....."
Oh well.......

DITCH THE TRAVEL COMPUTER: PORTABLE OS IN A WATERPROOF TUBE.

{NOTE:  This article was written almost two years ago and, since then, puppy linux is still the OS (operating system) on our little netbook. When our bigger laptop developed some problems  I booted the big laptop into puppy linux to salvage all our unsaved data from the hard drive.  THIS IS A LIGHT, EXTREMELY PORTABLE, AND POWERFUL OS, AMIGO.

And one more prime attribute: internet banking (much as the whole global banking infrastructure is repulsive) is safer with puppy. All your breadcrumbs go up in smoke when the OS disappears from RAM.}

(Original Article):

No need to carry a laptop on your next foreign trip or even to your aunts house in Alabama. Just the handy flash stick shown above and a copy of the linux operating system variation “puppy linux”. That’s it.


A full operating system in a tough, aircraft grade aluminum tube and skip carrying your computer with you. Include a ton of your personal pix, maybe a few videos to show some friends or foreigners who are curious about where you live, a copy of skype for video calling, a web browser for surfing the internet, a word processor, maybe a movie player. Very easy to get all this and more by just installing puppy on a flash stick.


Plug the flash stick into a old, clapped out computer at a dodgy internet café, or your uncles ancient machine which is choked by malware, and boot from it into puppy linux. Puppy runs in RAM only so is lightning fast. Even really old machines come back to life since puppy runs only in RAM. You never touch the hard drive of the host machine so get none of its viruses, malware, or slow speed. Any files you download or create go right on the flashstick you carry puppy on. Since puppy only takes up about 120 MB of space even a 4 GB flashstick is plenty big for the typical web surfing fool.


Here’s a good run down on why it makes sense to carry a complete operating system in your pocket, including all your personal files you choose to travel with:
http://www.pendrivelinux.com/


The Survivor case pictured above runs about 19 bucks on Amazon.com and is waterproof to 200 feet and extremely shock resistant. It has a handy dandy attachment point so you can carry it on a keyring. Pop into the library, boot up one of their machines into puppy (try not to freak out the librarian), and have all your favorite programs at your disposal, along with pix, files, etc.. 

Save all downloaded material to the flashstick, use a small antivirus program to weed out the remote possibility of virus infection (rare with any linux OS), and head out with only a small 3” long aluminum canister in your pocket or purse. This one is USB 3.0 ready so pretty darn fast data transfer wise.


Oh….. Puppy linux is FREE. Open source is the niftiest thing since true free love in the hippie days.  And a huge library of free programs is available to flesh out the program for your individual needs. So, for about 20 bucks you have a full operating system you can use on the road via friends computers or internet café pooters. Or get a salvaged older machine once you get somewhere and use that for ultra cheap while you're there then donate it to a school.


Great travel method. Super for areas of high theft.  Perfect for the nomad traveling fast, cheap, and light!! Or the sailor dingying in with no worries about soaking or damaging the laptop.  Lovely.

Mezcal Hangover Blues in Merry Bumbling Gringo 4/4 Time

 

 

Don’t say you were not warned, sub-moron. A local Oaxacan told you just before you started arrogantly licking the salt off that crescent between your thumb and forefinger, crushing the tart lemon wedges in your jaw, and firing down the “silver” mezcal (right out of the still) the farmer brought you from his cactus juice factory. But you powered it on, bucko, and how the freak did it come to this?

“Si...... gringos come down here and drink our mezcal in a odd haste then suddenly pass out. I see that often.....”

You jolt out of a uneasy torpor to the rusty steam valve bellowing of the farmers burro which has worked itself right under your open window. You try to raise up on one arm from the sticky sheets, scratch at what feels to be welts on your face and come away with a slight handful of blood. You stumble into the bathroom, weaving along the way, and recoil in mock horror seeing this stranger in the mirror..... much akin to a wax museum figurine after a fire burned the place down: one nostril trailing a thin blood trickle, face dotted with mosquito bites, and irridescent fuzz glowing on your teeth.

In fact, EVERYTHING is sparkling, especially out on the fringes of your sight. No, this ain’t no ordinary hangover, amigo. This is the liquid devil spawn little brother of the mescaline cactus, gringo..... welcome to Oaxaca.

Why is your freaking nose bleeding though? The “silver” was pretty spicy and who could deny it’s artful presentation, sitting all pretty in that discarded old plastic pepsi bottle the latinolandia locals love to reuse for strange esoteric brews sported in the local markets. But damn, have you dissolved the divider between your nostrils? You probe with a finger and indeed it does feel pretty vacuous up inside there.

This must be what the true professionals feel like sometimes, the guys who stumble into homeless shelters with a headful of rancid mouthwash dissolving their brainpans. Oh well, consider it education. This is adventure travel, pal!!! You worked hard for this experience and you better damn well savor it.

You make it back to the bed, closing the window against anymore mosquitos. Your wife is propped up on one elbow, glaring at you. Not a good sign. You can’t quite make out what she is trying to get across, her angry sign language looks like a blur. Something about it being bad enough that the locals shot off fireworks all night and you’re gonna be sorry when you get back on the web, dumbass, and thanks for all the mosquitos and other stuff bordering on incoherence. She quiets down when she sees you come in for a landing like a world war 2 crippled B-17 that’s eaten too much flak and has just one wheel down.

Merciful slumber evades you though. Little snippets of memory start firing off in your pounding skull to bedevil any hope of salvation:

The farmers very badass pitbull, who must have sensed you were helpless there on the porch of the cottage, actually took pity on you and stationed himself right between your legs, much to the horror of your wife, who considers him one danger stage below a 10 foot florida rattlesnake. And you petted that guy like he was a beloved, coiffed Park Avenue poodle.

What DID you do on the web? What was that you wife was trying to sign to you, speaking through some kind of filter in a foreign language? This might just be the real killer because you know from sad experience there is no telling who you rattled, told you loved them, pissed off, pitched a monumental partnership to, or smoozed. Or what seemed at the time epic prose, destined for the classics shelf, and probably qualifies as very apt bird cage liner.

This will have to delight you later on because right now you’re not going anywhere, my friend. If a earthquake fired off right now you’d just have to lie there and eat about 300 pounds of roofing tile. Your lower GI tract feels like you went 2 rounds with Mike Tyson and your muscles are trembling worse than a botched Alabama state prison 12 volt execution.

You know it will be allright though when your wife casually drapes a loving arm over your sweating frame and gently caresses your damp hair and tells you it isn’t THAT bad. And you know what? It isn’t..... this is a lovely little farm you are renting a cottage on, far enough in the boonies to feel pretty damn safe, and the porch is going to be just as warm and comfortable tomorrow as it was today and has been since you got here.

The dry desert wind will rattle in the palms, the various cactus will bristle in lovely shades of green, and the brown sands will continue to host legions of ants. Fluffy while pillows will drift across a startlingly crisp dark blue sky and iron bands will vein the pine clad mountiansides. The temperature will probably hit the low 80s, as usual, and if you can hold down your french press coffee in the morning your sweater against the first light chill will enfold you like a fur lined peanut shell. The roosters will compete for best wake-up call and, if you’re real lucky, you will find you didn’t sign away your life savings last night to the Reverend Billy Paul Osterman from the Holy Light Temple of the Just in San Antonio (“Show the love, brothers & sisters, and hit this PayPal button right here.....”).

Oh yeah..... good times in a high desert city in southern mexico.

You finally pass off into the reluctant arms of Morpheus with the full endearing intention of recommending the local mezcal experience highly to your friends (f you didn’t alienate what’s left of them sometime in the dim proceedings of last night). Yeah.... a not to be missed highlight of any south of the border desert romp. It’s not a 3 a.m. red zone strip club flameout of Saturday night sportsman youth but it’s pretty damn spicy anyway. Sparkling tunnel vision and all. And if you are just lucky enough to have a damn fine wife along this time it might just be OK in the end. It might just work out this time.....

Viva Mexico, baby!!!!!!! Viva la mezcal!!!!!!!  Well..... maybe not.

WHY THIS OLD VAN ACTUALLY IS A WISE CHOICE FOR OVERLANDING

Not pretty..... and that's a GOOD thing.

Our 1988 GMC one ton van is not a head turner and that's the way we like it. It's got a cracked windshield, a flat baby blue paint job that someone appears to have put on with spray cans, and faded white steel sport wheels. No air conditioning, having lived most of its life on the pacific northwest. The all season tires are a bit over sized. Kinda sexy, oddly, if you will.... but then I am a bit of a motorhead at heart.

 

Mexican cops in some of the towns we've blundered through seem to notice we're a bit white in the face AFTER we're past them usually. The van just looks like any other mexican vehicle. There's no flashy cargo box on top, just a mash of goods that don't attract the eye too badly. That's Ts catamaran kayak up there, some disassembled bikes, a spare tire, and a roll of sail fabric. All on a sturdy rack we bought from Home Depot for 99 bucks and a few 2X4s to link it together.

 

We bought this van a few months ago from a mechanic friend who had used it as his work truck. He has a astounding mechanical ability and takes pride in his personal gear being well maintained. He sold it to us, with a good tune-up, for $1000. As he put it: "a smoking deal". We'd met Lloyd a few months prior when he bailed our sorry butts out by repairing a lemon bus we'd bought on the internet from our Alaskan remove (which we finally sold since it wasn't going to do our latin relocation chores for tons of reasons). We paid him fairly for his time and he actually became a friend of ours in the process. So, in his own way, knowing what we wanted to do and that we'd gotten so jacked up with the bus, I think he felt sorry for us and made us this killer deal.

 

The old faithful and well proven 350 V8.

We get pretty crappy gas mileage at 11 MPG, the valve seals being a bit leaky and just being a 350 V8 one ton cargo hauler anyway. It has solid automatic transmission and cruises at fairly low rpm at 55. But it is rock solid and has performed well so far. Mexican mechanics apparently know the old 350 V8s pretty well so we felt good about any breakdowns being able to be addressed. Unlike in the USA these mecanicos will work all day for $100 or a bit more and are used to cobbling together older vehicles to keep them running. Parts for the 350 are still readily available since GM made a ton of them over the years.

 

Yeah.... that's duct tape on the drivers seat.....

This van is so old the seats do not even have headrests. I had to scrape about 20 years worth of dried spilled working mans cokes off the floor between the seats. And in the mexican heat I sweat so much it feels like I am wearing a 4 day old Depends diaper all day. The windows are manual rolling. The door latch is busted and has to be reset each time you get in or out. Once again..... not pretty..... but well workable.

"Pilot Bear" stares out of what was the radio space.....

That's one hot floor at mid-day, bud!! Nothing I can't delude myself into accepting though. The vents do work with a strong fan trying valiantly to bail us out at mid-day in mid 90s torpor. No tachometer but good oil and ammeter guages. The tranny is rock solid so far and uses no fluid.

Solidly packed up to bed level.....

The bed I built in as a single, out of 2X2s and 3/8th plywood. The one on the right side is atop a series of plastic bins with a thin sheet of ply on top of them. Actually big enough for T and I to spread out in the heat. We bought a 12 volt 10" fan that runs off the cig lighter hole and it's saved our bacon in some stultifying sleeping situations so far. We have a fair amount of headroom but you cannot sit up all the way. Bug nets can be pinned around the sliding side cargo door and over the back and side doors if need be (and it has been needed!). 

 

One could come down in a newer model car but we've heard reports of these type folks getting shaken down for the constabulary love bite here and there. Better to use a somewhat nondescript, but rock solid mechanically, older and proven piece of machinery. This one could give up the ghost this week, but I suspect not. And a zealous official might ruin our day but..... it continues to cruise smoothly with plenty of power for pulling hills or passing some farm truck that's going 15 MPH on a narrow road with no shoulders. It absorbs the sharp impacts of speed bumps coming out of nowhere with its tough cargo suspension and high ground clearance.

All in all..... a good 2nd and third world overlander.

TOP ODD BOATS IN PORT TOWNSEND

 

Mind you these are just my very prejudiced picks:  I find barges sexy so go figure. PT has a shitpot of swiss watch marine carpentry detritus….. wholly outside the means and experience of the common man and dinosaur marine architecture that will fade elegantly.

Meanwhile:

 

Keel boats blow for offshore work (wallowing, steeply heeled lead mines) but this one is very simplistic: flush decker, outboard hung rudder, boomkin and stout boom. Lovely……

Here’s a dory with a outboard in the well, a chinese lug rig, and minor cabin (just a curtain across that rear portion), and a yuloh sculling oar. Lovely….

 

This is a 20 foot or so dory, with a two stroker 10 hp in a well. With a single rowing station. A bit of windage but a nice workhorse for crab pots and such.

 

Weston Farmers classic “Tahitiana”…. in steel and well kept up.

A decaying Wharram 32 that a guy is selling off for whatever someone offers on it. Some wood rot but for a young boat bum just getting started a good first boat…. as long as you head south to warmer water.

My personal favorite….. a classic shantyboat scow. Maybe 45 feet with a 10 beam or so. Perfect as the base boat in sheltered waters with a adventure sailboat tied alongside.

Nice full roof for the rainy pacific northwest…… catch a lot of drinking water off a roof like this. Solar panels, wind gens, and such…… pure D lovely…

Nice bit of sheer and a sexy upturn to the stern. Same entrancing space on the stern…. covered and perfect to pee off of, sink beer bottles, and haul rockfish up on. Wood stove blazing inside, the keys clattering softly on the pooter, the cat asleep on the windowsill, the wind howling over the top of a protected spit….. oh yeah…….

Lots of this crap in this harbor of the mecca for wood boatbuilding and classic wood yachts. Stuff with six figure “for sale” tags on them. Give me a break….

If you’re going to go the petro gobbling route at least have some utility to it: a classic piece of pure functionality>>>> a motor barge workboat.

Meanwhile we gunkhole in this baby about the pacific northwest, continuing to seek a good used hull. Inside rest my two chinese lugsails, a shitpot of rope and gear, and all my tools for building another boat. We have a building site lined up for winter and a catamaran idea is building steam in my belly.

Bus tomfoolery is a far cry from our old days on the Plan A….. but…. we’re getting back to it, piece by piece.

Keep the faith!!!!! Best wishes from Port Townsend, Washington.

2020: GLOBAL SEA GYPSY ENCLAVE PANAMA

No pirates on the horizon today. Motorized ones faded out a few years after the global monetary system went down. Now our little foraging catamarans can either outrun them or thread intricate channels in the reef they cannot follow. The Panamanian government has ceased to have any kind of teeth anymore as the revenues have evaporated from lack of shipping through the canal so we’re armed well enough these days.

It’s not perfect, but it works for us. Our ranks have grown to about 20 full time floating abodes, in various stages of 12 volt electrification, but that fades each day as we run through our cache of spare parts. We hope more trading schooners start coming through but, for now, the piracy scourge is still pretty thick and the hardier asian varieties still give us some trouble, as well as the odd band of ex-military sorts from up north. They find the currents and winds begin to become problematic for them just south of Mexico so we don’t get as many as folks farther north do, but, for now, we exist mostly on what we have stored and what we can find locally.

Our particular craft is a big catamaran baseboat:

It allows us to get into some pretty shallow coastal waters and thus out of the reach of most prying intentions of the dwindling petroleum boated crowd and the larger sail vessels. Ventilation is key here in the occasionally sweltering tropics and we spend a lot of time out on deck.

Our little hood here shares a collection of smaller foraging boats which double as pleasure craft. The internet is a pleasant memory and we still gather on some weekends to watch archival digital media but, mostly, our days are filled with fishing and skin diving, tending guerilla gardens on shore, maintenance chores, and for a few of us, surfing.

Occasionally we get a hardy soul who sails right in to visit. Some require some recovery time, sheltering from harrowing watches amidst a comforting enclave of anarcho-mariners, and others simply want to trade and visit before shoving off for parts unknown. Selfish types generally get what they deserve and don’t stay long but some linger for months.

This particular vessel just spent a year hanging out farther north, tucked in behind the Osa peninsula of southern Costa Rica, in a similar community, and decided to shove off to see what is happening in the south pacific. They checked into our little burg to rest up a bit before jumping off for the horse latitudes crossing to the southern tradewinds.

The Osa community is rumored to have developed into a small trading port of sorts and may have up to 2000 people living there now, with all manner of small businesses open and thriving. One sells cargo bicycles she builds from recycled parts. She is rumored to have put 7 on a recent cargo schooner bound for ports farther south.

We lost a local last year, a 13 year old who succumbed to infection from a reef scrape, during a low point in our local stockpile of antibiotics with none coming in by trade. Our community has learned a lot about local natural remedies but none helped in this case. Life is often harsh, indiscriminately cruel and arbitrary, and we’ve come to regard a emphasis on prevention as far superior to treatment.

Still, life is surprisingly good here…… far better than we at first envisoned. Things were rough during the sorting out process when the delivery of goods and services froze up following the monetary meltdown and the pandemic. We’ve heard pockets of power players still manuever about each other globally, but, apparently, on a far smaller scale now as we haven’t seen a trace of any formal governmental or military presence in months.

Life has adjusted to daily natural rhythms and we all seem far healthier than before the troubles began.

The waves still flow in timelessly. The fish stocks seem to be increasing slowly. Life ain’t shabby, amigo!!

The blue marble still spins about the solar furnace in indolent nonchalance, mildly itching from a benign infestation of viral bipeds. They may be wiped away by a melting down radioactive core somewhere soon, but, for now, they are tolerable. The trades still waft through the palms. Life is short, and precious, and now, in this more simplified yet savage time, we do our best to make it the best we can manage with what we have left.

What better option could exist, for NOW?