Author: Scott and Pam
To pry us out of our depression from still being in Turtle Bay Scott decided to attempt to make just add water blueberry muffin mix, and although this is a complex feat for Scott, they turned out to be pretty good. Our new mechanics showed up on time with bright smiles and a newly machined part for the water pump. Up until their arrival we were on pins and needles thinking that we would be deserted again with our water pump in pieces, in the cockpit. They set out to work and immediately determined that the piece “was mucho grande”. They were off to shore to try to machine the piece again. Our optimism left the boat with them.
At 1230 the boys retuned with a new piece to our water pump. The next three hours were spent refining the part with a hacksaw and file, but eventually with a subdued “yeah yeah baby” the part fit and our water pump we reinstalled. Now to start the engine and test her out, rrrrrrrrr, rrrrrrr, rrrrrr, our engine batteries were dead! No problemo, a Panga dropped by with an extra battery. We changed the batty with our starter battery and she fired right up. Concerned with the low battery situation, Scott checked the instrument panel and noticed that although the engine was running, no power was being generated, and now we had a new Turtle Bay problemo. Both of us sank into a deeper funk, “we are never going to escape Turtle Bay”. We had reached the end of our current mechanics ability, Scott paid them for their help and we were off in a Panga to seek out new assistance and charge our portable battery charger for emergency use. Our new plan was to leave with a charged battery and sail with minimal power to Cabo the following day, we are a sail boat after all.
When we got to shore we headed over to Maria’s restaurant to hopefully plug in our charger but alas Maria’s was closed, just our luck. We then met a man at Gordo’s Fuel Dock named Rosario, turns out he was Maria’s brother, and he offered for us to charge the battery at his house. We walked to his house and our first exposure in a foreign residence was not very positive. Rosario’s house was dirty and smelled awful, sort of a cross between trash and diapers. He pointed to a wall outlet with no protective plate and assured us that it would work. We did not have much confidence in the outlet.
Rosario took us back to our boat in yet another panga with no gas, and so he insisted on rowing us. At the boat Rosario boldly asked for ten dollars and left with a promise to meet us with a mechanic to investigate our new charging problemo. We just wanted to leave.
Back on the boat we radioed Reel Attitude, a power boat that we had spoken with earlier in the day on the radio. We figured they may have a generator or an extra battery. It turns out they wanted us to come on over for a cocktail and they would see what they could do. It was going on 2000 and now we had to drag out the dinghy, one of Pam’s least favorite activities. We decided to row because they couldn’t be that far away and headed out to find Reel Attitude in the dark. Just our luck again, they were anchored way out at the edge of Turtle Bay, and to make matters worse in route our dinghy began to loose air. What did we ever do to piss off Poseidon and Neptune? Where were our dolphin charms when we needed them? We arrived in our withered dinghy looking a little pathetic and hauled ourselves and our battery on to the deck of Reel Attitude, a 45’ luxury fishing boat inhabited by six men from Salt Lake City. We also brought them a bottle of wine which they refused, we think they thought we needed it more than they did. The next thing we knew the battery was whisked away to their generator and we were being served grilled steak, salad, baked potato, and red wine at their eight person dinner table. We both appreciated this hospitality more than they could have imagined since the only other food we had had was Scott’s blueberry muffins, thirteen hours earlier. Each of our hosts was unique and deserves further description in the future. Let’s just say they were a collage of men over fifty playing on their power boat. Pam liked Bill the best because he flirted incessantly and said she looked like she was twenty-eight. After stories of fishing, Mexican whore houses, and other colorful topics, and pastries for desert, we decide we should head back to our boat.
Off to bed to face another day in hopes of leaving Turtle Bay.
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