March 23, 2008 - Easter Sunday, Santa Rosalia

Clear skies this morning, but breezy. We had breakfast in the cockpit, enjoying the sweet rolls we purchased yesterday at the Boleo Bakery . Excellent. Around 8:15 we strolled into town and up to the church. The doors were open, but it didn't look like 9 am was the likely start time. We asked, and learned that the mass would begin at 10 am. We spent the extra time walking around town. One shop had a sign saying "English spoken here" so we popped in and enjoyed conversation with the lady there. We wandered further up town, and found ourselves standing in front of a narrow, old wooden church. While admiring the weathered architecture I heard a voice behind me. This short, old man with a very weathered face was attempting to explain something to me about the building. Despite the language barrier, I began picking up bits and pieces. He wanted to tell me about the mining history of the area. I asked him if he'd worked in the mines and he said "No". Rather, he had been a heavy equipment operator. He also communicated, with the aid of pantomime, a funny story from his youth. He used to sit on one side of the ravine where the town is located, and shoot at latrines across on the other side. He also indicated that his father had whipped his backside for this behavior. It's amazing how communication becomes possible, despite a language barrier, when someone wants to tell you his story.

The church service was a wonderful experience. We were the only norte americanos present. About 15 minutes before the start, a short little man who reminded me very much of an elderly Anthony Quinn, range the church bells. He had a definite style and rythem, pulling the two bell ropes in alternating cadence. Music was provided by a pair of guitars and a tamborine, and a choir of 6 women, and they were both enthusiastic and excellent. The priest was a tall, husky Mexican man, who displayed a friendly smile throughout the mass. He was an impressive orator, and I wish I could have understood the homily. The mass was very well attended, with a number of worshippers standing along the sides. We felt warmly welcomed there.

After church we returned to the boat. I refilled the main boat tanks from my jerry cans, using a siphon hose with a brass fitting on one end. A few quick shakes gets the siphon action going, and it's a very effective way to transfer gas into the main 12 gallon tanks, through the access panels installed in the cockpit seats. I was able to calculate that we had used 12 gallons thus far on the trip, averaging 7 mpg while exclusively motoring. That was at 2100 rpm, and no dinghy trailing behind. Mileage will probably decline from here on, since I now have the dinghy in the water. I toted the empty jerry cans up to the Pemex station across the road from the marina, and got them refilled. Gas here is just under $3/gallon.

Meanwhile, Sandy was putting a fruit salad together for the potluck being organized by one of our power boat neighbors. We gathered on the aft deck of a lovely 50 footer and had a delightful afternoon.

It's been breezy all day, and outside the marina the Sea has been nothing but whitecaps. We wanted to leave tomorrow morning, so I could try yellowtail fishing off the north end of San Marco Island, but I'm now thinking it will be better to hang out here a day longer. The weather is supposed to settle tomorrow, and given a little time, the swells should subside. Tuesday will definitely be a better day for fishing.