Cabo San Lucas. Hot days, warm nights, and endless parties. Whew! This photograph was taken on the motor vessel Continuum Pleasure, flagship of Continuum Health, Inc. The boat's owner, Joahnn, was foolish enough to leave me alone with his boat for an entire month here! Party all night, throw up in the morning, sleep some, swim some, and go party some more. Sheeeish, what a dog's life I lead.

The motor vessel Continuum Pleasure, taken while hanging from a parachute in Cabo San Lucas, BCS.

The tower at Marina Vallarta. ShyDavid got the heaving pukes here, presumably from some bad food. The water is "safe" here, so I suppose it was some bad cheese or something. The prices for stuff at the marine was astronomically high, but if one takes a taxi into town the prices are reasonable. We did some varnish work here. Good people running the marina.

ShyDavid chaining the Boston Whaler to the dock in Cabo San Lucas. The last thing I'd want to tell Johann, other than "Hey, Continuum Pleasure sank at her moorings today," is that someone stole his skiff. During the "Baja Ha Ha 1997" I talked with a man who had not chained his dinghy to the dock, and someone stole it. Er, stole the dinghy that, is: not the dock.

ShyDavid at the fuel dock in Acapulco. We filled the tanks up to their fill pipes, since it is a longish run to Costa Rica from Acapulco. The fuel was good here. Johann left Bob and I with the boat while he went to get oil filters--- big mistake! After refuling, Bob and I moved the boat to her assigned Med-moor spot, which was between two multi-million-dollar yachts. I had never backed Continuum Pleasure up to a dock before, and there was a stiff wind on the beam. I phucked up the anchoring, and had to do the Med-moor TWICE. Ugh. Johann didn't see the screw-up.

If you are ever in Cabo San Lucas and decide to drive a wee bit southish, check out Nancy's Palapa at Cabo Palmo, on the beach. Excellent chili rellenos. The food is better and not as expensive as in Cabo San Lucas, plus there is a lending library for cruisers. This is on the shore of the Sea of Cortez, with a coral reef offshore a few hundred yards.

Looks like this anchor bridle was done properly, don't it. Well it was not: I phucked it up rather badly on the eye-splice. We anchored at a few places along the way: Port Angeles in Washington, in the Sea of Cortez, and Key Largo. Rather than have the anchor chain rest upon the bow roller and chafe, Johann had me make this anchor bridle. The bight was thimbled in the center of the line, then seized with twine, then whipped with a needle and sail thread. The two ends were spliced. The hook held the anchor chain so that it was slack on the bow roller, while the two eye-splices were passed through two hawses and belayed to deck cleats.

Balboa Yacht Club, Panama. This is the place to go ashore when one reaches Panama on the Pacific side. The Club has moorings for rent, and there is a bar one can go to at night to be harassed by whores. When we went ashore for lunch, someone stole Johann's brand new 75 pound CQR anchor: US$888.00 gone in a few minutes. One should always have a crew member stay on board ones' boat in Panama.

The pier at the Balboa Yacht Club. This is the place to refuel and to land. There are taxis waiting at the Club, and most of the drivers speak English well. Shove the whores aside and take a taxi ride to the old Spanish forts. The abandoned US minitary base is also here. See what your tax dollars went to.

Sunset at Cabo San Lucas, after a hot day. ShyDavid spent the evenings on the fly bridge munching freshly baked bread (Continuum Pleasure has a bread maker on board) and chili rellenos. The freezer was full of Mahi Mahi (Dorado), Tuna, and assorted veggies--- never a problem finding something to eat during the two AM watch.

The hole at Cabo San Lucas, BCS. I took Johann's skiff through the hole at high tide, against my better judgement. Later I tried to haul the skiff onto the beach, but it floundered and I lost one of the oars. I had wanted to get a margaritta from The Office's waiter on the beach... Otch, well.

My roommate with a frisky feathered flotilla of friends. Lyndelle took an aircraft to Cabo San Lucas and met the boat. The diving was poor at Cabo because the water was very warm: I saw it with my own eyes--- 92 degrees Fahrenheit. The reefs died because the water was too warm, which made the small fish die, which made the game fish go away. These pelicans were hungry.

Embroidery from Costa Rica. I put this is a frame and it is going to hang on a bulkhead in Myste.

Continuum Pleasure at Acapulco. I backed her up to this dock, between two mega-bucks yachts, while there was a stiff breeze on the beam. And I did it sober! The bow anchor is some 200 feet from the bow, though it took me two tries to set it: the first time I pushed the windlass' "up" switch accidently, instead of the "down" switch! Sheeeit. Thank Goddess Johann wasn't watching.

Continuum Pleasure under way, photograph taken from the bow pulpit. Look at all of those antennae! And two radars. The upper radar was moved, and a satellite phone antenna was put in its place. I once made Captain Ron shit his drawers when he was standing by that fog horn and I pushed the button. Har har har! Continuum Pleasure is a Fleming 53, with two monster engines, a water maker, GPS units comin' out o' her ass, and tens of thousands of dollars worth of fishing gear.

Gulfito, Costa Rica. This is where we purchased fresh fruits and vegetables. (Watermellon! Yum!) We also visited a banana plantation, and I was surprised to learn that the workers actually get paid what the job is worth. The Port Captian here was a sour, vile, wicked, black- hearted, contemptible, despicable, demonic, devilish, diabolical, evil- minded, fiendish, mean, sinister, villainous sort. I heard he has since been replaced.

Johann and friend. A very, very dead friend. Nothing made Johann happier than when he was butchering some marlin, Mahi Mahi, yellow- tailed tuna, or anything that looked tasty. When he wasn't butchering some helpless sea denizen, he was shapening his knife and going through his lures. Along the way we caught six or seven marlin, a sail fish, seven or eight Mahi Mahi (Dorado, i.e. Dolphin Fish), and about two dozen tuna. I do not eat animal flesh, so all this killing was disgusting to me... which amused the crew no end! One bull Dorado kept Johann in the fighting chair for some 40 minutes, the poor thing. (Er, that's sympathy for the fish, not Johann.) The line broke from rubbing against the edge of the swim platform, and the fish got away.

Sailfish, i.e. Istiophorus. The poor bastard. I reeled him in, and I felt awfull doing so. The fish may have died due to loss of blood, as it was hooked down the mouth with a barb coming out near one eye. I wished that my boat mates would cease their demonic blood sport, but men will be boys. I would rather see all "sport fishing" cease immediately, and have people only fish for food. But I'm not World Dictator. Yet.

Panama Canal, center lock. The structure to the right is actually a ship piled high with red cargo crates, going the same direction were were, in another lock. Each lock is actually a pair, and they are flooded and drained separately. Gatun Lake is just after this lock (if I recall correct: I may not).

Another lock, after the Gaillard Cut if I recall correctly. We raced a tug boat to this lock, hoping to get the best position in the lock--- in front of the cargo ship bearing down on us, and not at its stern. We did not wish to have to deal with the prop wash of a heavy steamer leaving the lock in front of us. Up-locking and down-locking went GREAT: no problems at all. There was nothing to worry about, even though I had been. One hears stories, after all....