Cental America
And Back
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The morning breeze was from the north, as usual right on the nose, but nice and light. Unfortunately for us, It did not last very long... it got bigger and steep waves converged to create the old washing machine effect. We changed course from Isla San Benito on the outside of Cedros Island to going inside that Cedros for the protection it offered. Just when we started to feel the calming effects of our late decision, we spot a Mexican Navy ship speeding towards us. Great. I have a fishing line out but my license to do such activity had recently expired, but that wasn't all. One of the coolest things about Mexico are the people. I don't think I've said enough about how much I love this culture and the folks who live here. They are always ready to greet with a smile, they are generous to a fault and they love Americans. [EDIT: At least they did before Trump.. :( ] The Mexican Navy was no different. Our boat documentation had expired as well, and although I had a very nice scan of the new paperwork I was sure the Navy would see through my weak ploy. And worst of all; our tourist visas had expired just a few days prior. That meant we were illegal immigrants and I was more nervous than a cat in a dog pound. One of the soldiers boarded Ashika while Dois gathered every document we had ever collected and put them in a fishing net that one of the officers pushed across to our boat. If we were in trouble, Dois reverted to his banking days; paper them with so much paper it would take them a week to figure it all out. Meanwhile the search guy went below to search for contraband. He spoke not one word of English, but politely pointed to each drawer or cabinet that he wanted me to open and thanked me profusely at every opportunity. When Ihe was sure we had no hidden drugs or weapons, he returned topside and hopped across to his boat. In the meantime, Dois was in a rousing conversation about our travels with the other officers while I tried to hide the fact that I felt like I was going to implode. They were so incredibly nice and I kept waiting for them to drop the hatchet. A few minutes more minutes passed and they shut the binder, placed it back in the large fishing net along with our passports and pushed our "life" back to us across the watery divide of the two boats. And that was it, the end of my criminal exploits in Mexico. We said thank you way too many times and started to get ready to cast off when the officer in charge said "Please wait". Oh no, we almost got away. He put a clipboard in the net and passed it over. He said "Please sign this document". I was sweating bullets and leaned over to see what it said. It was all in English and it basically said "we were treated fairly and none of our rights were violated". Rights? We have rights? We had completely screwed up and these folks wanted proof that they treated us fairly. And off they went and I shook for about an hour. Contraband. We coulda been in trouble for the worst tasting fish in Mexico. The remainder of the trip was quiet. It was a bitter sweet journey from our adopted cruising grounds of Mexico to the familiar port of San Diego. The checking back into the country was understated at best after 6 years of cruising Central America. Customs required a payment for inspection that cost $26. Fine and dandy if you've been in the States, but not so great if you only have pesos. And they would not take a debit or credit card for payment. Eventually I found a worn out counter check from my bank and yanked the fraying peice of paper out of my wallet. No name or address on it. Would they accept this check. Yep, problem solved. We were officially back in the good ol' US of A. It looked like we would make it to the 4th of July reunion with my daughter. We had used our last dollar and then some to fill our tanks. We survived not one hurricane, but two and would arrive in Long Beach with days to spare. And it was all worth it.
Peace.
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