So, you haven’t blogged lately, what's up with that?

Well, let’s see if I can sum it all up…

We made it to San Carlos!
And without incident. Gotta love that. I pull into our boat slip without a scratch. Yay me!

We get the truck out of storage.
Runs great, but smells funny as soon as the air conditioning starts up. After a couple days with no dissipation, Brian investigates. A mouse had made a snug little nest in both the engine and cabin air filters. Awww… NOT cute. Judging from pee & pellet quantities, he’d moved in permanently. Ah, mouse urine, the new car fragrance. Nice. Our furry antagonist also chewed all the surrounding insulation stuffing to bits…tastes like cotton candy maybe? At least he left the electrical wires alone. Fortunately, AutoZone had the replacement filters and we were breathing free in no time.

12 days putting the boat away.
Wash. Wash. Wash. Remove this. Store that. Hard work. Hot sun. Ho hum.  See last year’s post for a detailed blow by blow. It was just like that.  Again.

Haul out day.
Motoring the boat over to the launch ramp, I thought I was gliding in just fine. It didn’t feeeel like I was going fast. Turns out, I misjudged. When docking, a boat’s side should kiss the quay, no more than a polite peck; air-kisses are best. Today, Indigo’s port belly collided with the dock in a lengthy, firm, 1950’s movie smooch, complete with sound effects. Ewwww. Gross. And right in front of everyone. So embarrassing. My mistake led to a nice 2ft long, white scratch. Argg. Expletives ensue. Poor me. 

BUT…That afternoon with the boat on land, I buff out my scratch. Took an hour of elbow grease; but no one will be the wiser. Whew. Don’t tell anyone.

Driving
With the boat put away for another season, we drove and drove and drove. Up to Tucson, veered left to California for a few days, then back across the country through 7 states. Driving is Dull.

Atlanta
3 weeks in Atlanta. Put truck away. Prep van for touring: added 2 solar panels, new solar controller, fixed a stubborn leak in the roof. Fixing stuff is boring. Get to the good part.

Northeast Georgia
4 days with Brian’s dad & wife and their friends camping in northeast GA. Middle of freakin’ nowhere. The campground is an hour away from the nearest town. Not due to proximity, but because one can only drive 10mph… for 7-MILES down a snaking, rutted, gravel road. Lacking 4-wheel-drive, I thought we were going to get stuck in the wilderness for days. But we made it. Primitive sites = no water or electric. But steps away from a babbling brook & fairytale forest, with hardly anyone around, a warm fire, good company and lots of beer. Relaxing. Now we’re getting somewhere.

Eastern Tennessee
Next, we spent 3 weeks and 2500 miles traveling Eastern Tennessee. OK, now you’re talkin’.
Wait, 2500 miles? Is that a typo? No. No it’s not.

From Ducktown in the southeast corner, west to Lynchburg in the south central area, then back east through small villages across the Cumberland Plateau, to the heights of the Smoky Mountains, as far north as Johnson City, back down to Knoxville, and as far west as Gallatin (Nashville outskirts). Our final map looked like a squashed Z. We basically tacked back and forth through TN.  Countless quiet country roads, multiple mountain ascents, oodles of S-curves, minimal highway-time. Here are some highlights…
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• Four days in Chattanooga. Loved this town. We visited the Tennessee Aquarium (best thing we did), Raccoon Mountain Caverns (a low-key, non-touristy cave), Rock City (cool ‘cause I love natural rock formations) & Ruby Falls (go early morning before the insufferable crowds, otherwise don’t go). 
• Factory tour of the Jack Daniel’s Distillery in Lynchburg. Fun tour guides. Well worth it. 5 stars out of 4000 reviews on Trip Advisor can’t be wrong.  
• Explored Falls Mill in Belvidere, a working grist mill with waterwheel and museum filled with antique machinery.  
• Sat IN a waterfall. How cool is that? Inside Fall Creek Falls State Park is Cane Creek Cascades where one can climb all over the rocks and slosh about in sparkling, ankle deep water. So fun! We hiked and viewed more waterfalls at Rock Island Park further north for a total of 9 waterfalls in 3 weeks.
• Camped high in the pristine Smoky Mountains for 4 nights. Lots of mountain driving and hiking.
• Spent a day in touristy, but cute Gatlinburg sipping too many free whiskey shots at Ole Smoky and Sugarland Distilleries…mini-golfed to sober up. Breezed straight through adjacent Pigeon Forge, the ugliest town in TN and possibly biggest tourist trap of all time.
• Visited Davy Crockett’s Birthplace near Greeneville.
• Toured the tiny Cumberland Homestead Museum in Crossville.
• Went for a quiet kayak on Watts Bar Lake.
• Lunched at an amazing restaurant in Gallatin called “Chocolate Covered Strawberry” (‘cause every meal includes them).
• Stopped by Mammoth Cave in Kentucky on our way up north.

Funny story #1 - The Great Escape
On a whim, we stopped at a large park alongside the Ocoee River. Lots of folks hiking, biking, picnicking, sitting in lawn chairs, watching the water. I aimed for the waterline and began climbing around on boulders, as usual. The water level was so low and calm; I could have boulder-hopped all the way across. And I was about ready to try it. Suddenly, the water at my feet started to churn. And rise. Rapidly. What the heck? As I moved toward the bank, a loud horn shrieked incessantly. It took a second for that warning noise to register…

Crap! The damn dam is being let loose! And the dam horn was delayed! I got the heck out of there. That water flow amplified from babbling brook to whitewater wipeout in 30 seconds. SO glad I did NOT attempt a cross-creek boulder-hop. I cannot imagine standing in the center of that idyllic, lazy brook and seeing a wall of whitewater barreling downslope right at me.  Heart attack!

Pretty soon, hordes of whitewater rafters & kayakers begin flying down the newly swollen river. Come to find out, we stumbled upon the Ocoee Whitewater Center - home of the 1996 Olympic whitewater kayaking slalom course. Who knew? Rafting companies proliferate ‘round these parts, ready to take you for a ride… whenever the damn dam cuts loose. Hmmm. Sounds like fun! Maybe next time.

Funny Story #2 – Doppelganger!
So we’re at the Jack Daniel’s Distillery, milling around the gift shop, waiting for our tour. I spot Brian holding a bottle of Jack, contemplating. So I sidle on up behind him, lay my hand on his shoulder and inquire: “Whatcha got there?” He replies without missing a beat: “I’m buying myself a birthday present.” Now, it’s WAYYY past Brian’s birthday. Not to mention, his voice is not right. And in that same second I look up and realize it is NOT Brian. It is Brian’s doppelganger! O.M.G. How embarrassing!

Fortunately, after my flustered apology, the guy brushed off my blunder without a care and resumed buying his present. I snuck a photo just to prove I wasn’t crazy. He wore practically the same red plaid shirt, shorts, ballcap, hair and build. Blame it on the whiskey. Wait, that was BEFORE the tasting!

25 Days and 14 Campgrounds
Over those 3 weeks, we stayed at 14 different campgrounds, a mix of private & State & National Parks. Usually 1-2 nights only. We camped in wilderness forest surrounded by trees, and also enjoyed on-water sites on Douglas Lake, Tim’s Ford Lake, Tellico Lake, Watt’s Bar Lake, the Cumberland River and Toccoa River. Tennessee State Park Campgrounds are all very nice, with level concrete pads & good bathhouses. Some even have internet! Many are on beautiful bodies of water with miles of shoreline. While we only visited Fall Creek Falls State Park for a day because their campground was booked, I’d recommend it above all others for the hiking & waterfall excursions.

Why so much time? And why so much criss-crossing?
Well, we are scouting towns…semi-looking for property, somewhere Brian can build his dream-pole-barn-workshop… eventually, not right this second, but maybe in a few years, when we’re tired of living on the boat and desperately yearn for a real bathroom with running water. We don’t yet know where that perfect location is, but Tennessee is high on our list due to low taxes and central proximity to family, specifically the eastern area for its beautiful topography and mild climate. We’ve never explored TN, always driving straight through on the 75 to Florida or Georgia. So we thought we’d take our time and check it out. We especially liked Chattanooga, Lynchburg, Greeneville, Johnson City, Rogersville and the area near Fall Creek Falls up high on the Cumberland Plateau sort of in the middle of nowhere. Eh…We’ll see.

Michigan
After our Twisty Tennessee Tour we slacked for two months in Michigan visiting my parents, Brian’s parents, our siblings, nieces and nephews. But we never really rested…

Our 8-week Michigan stint included: 10 (count ‘em, ten!) doctor’s visits between the two of us, 2 funerals, 1 awesome Disney-themed-adult-costume-birthday party, a family reunion, a Fowlerville Dawn Patrol Breakfast (local airport fly-in) and a trip to Uncle John’s Cider Mill for cider donuts. Brian sewed some stuff for the boat: 6 fender covers and a new dinghy cover. We spent one fun-filled week with Brian’s sister & family visiting from Wisconsin. We did 3 trips to Grand Haven to visit Grandpa before he passed, and two after. I spent two weeks sorting through old photos to produce a monster 124-slide, 13 minute PowerPoint for his memorial. Subsequent visits to Grand Haven/Muskegon involved the memorial and reconnecting with my Minnesota aunt, uncle & cousins. Busy, busy, busy.

During those couple months we camped 3 days in the Irish Hills of Michigan with my parents, 2 in Grand Haven, 3 in Muskegon. We fixed more leaks in the van, changed out some failing lights due to said leaks and completed a Winnebago recall. Oh, and don’t forget 3 days in Algonac, celebrating 22 crazy, unpredictable and adventure-filled years of marriage. Yee haw!

On Oct 8th we, headed back down to Atlanta by way of Huntsville (visited the Air & Space museum) and Ft. Payne Alabama. Why? Never been there. And I got to see two more waterfalls.

Official Stats:
Overall, we camped in the van for 39 nights, the rest with family. Stayed in 21 different campgrounds. 1 GA, 13 TN, 4 MI, 1 IN, 1 KY, & 2 AL.

Georgia…#2
Back in Atlanta now, we are working on the van, prepping it for storage. Brian made and installed shelves for the bathroom hanging closet to maximize storage. We had a leak under the fridge, pulled up the vinyl floor, cleaned and aired it out. We fixed yet another window leak. F-in’ leaks. So we bit the bullet and purchased a fabric car cover. Hopefully, it will remain dry all winter, cross your fingers.  Despite the leaks, we LOVE our “V-Ger” van. We still believe it was the best option, considering the amount of traveling we tend to do, moving every other day.

Meanwhile, Brian has been helping his Dad with the woodworking business…making wooden kids’ puzzles & savings banks, cutting boards & keepsake boxes for sale at local craft shows. 

It’s good for him… getting in some father-son time, yelling at his dad. Just kidding, Brian has to yell at him because he can’t hear worth crap. So every day for 8 hours, this is what I overhear in the workshop downstairs: the loud drone of sawing & sanding…mixed in with shouting out directions & questions, two or three times each. It’s like living a real-life Progressive Insurance motorcycle commercial…
”We did get an early start, took the kids to soccer practice.” 
"You want me to jump that cactus? Alright.”
“That lady’s awesome!”  
“ I don’t see a possum.”

On the Road Again
The 2nd week of November, we’ll drive cross-country to Tucson once again, hit my favorite Trader Joe’s store and head back to Mexico for another season of fun and adventure!

We are happily anchored at Ensenada Grande, the first stop on our 6-week trip up to San Carlos from La Paz. As I lounge below on my sea berth, a tall mast looms visible through the companionway. Yikes! I know the boat is close if I can see him through that narrow slot. I launch up on deck, but Brian is already intently watching. This boat drops anchor right between us and another boat. Ugh. He’s pretty darn close, but not disturbingly so. We watch and wait.

10 minutes later, we overhear a VHF radio call in heavily-Spanish-accented English.
“Boat with the French flag… this is Valencia… you have anchored too close.” (Boat names changed to protect the innocent.)
Crickets…

Again. “Boat with the French flag… this is Valencia… you have anchored too close.”
Silence.

Again, with a bit more emphasis.
Silence.

The oblivious yacht is a 40ft Beneteau sailboat, so we’ll call him Mr. Beneteau. We cannot see his boat name and apparently neither can Valencia. It’s on his stern, probably in foolish flowery font – why owners don’t make their boat names clearly visible is beyond me.

The Audacious Mr. Beneteau
The French boat had anchored too close for Valencia’s comfort. Except Mr. Beneteau’s VHF radio was off so Valencia could not relay his analysis on the matter. While one Valencia crewmember kept trying to hail them over the radio, the other crewmember stood on the bow, waving arms, shouting in vain through the wailing 20kt wind. You’d be surprised how little sound carries in 20 knots of wind. If you prefer not to shout, or it’s too windy to do so, a good way to get someone’s attention is just stand on the bow, arms akimbo and glower at the offending boat. Pointing helps. Eventually they will notice. And they did.

So finally I hear heavily-French-accented English, coming from a very weak radio signal, hailing Valencia. But now Valencia is not hearing them. Wow. This just gets better and better. Grammy-winning evening entertainment!

Eavesdropping
After several unanswered return calls from Mr. Beneteau, Valencia responds and they switch from a hailing channel to a talking channel. Of course we switch too, duh. #1, we want to listen in on this highly entertaining shit show, and #2, we have a stake in this conversation. It might be our shit show when the wind switches. Don’t judge. Everybody does it.

Valencia (flustered woman):“You have anchored too close to our boat.”

Mr. Beneteau (a meek, high-pitched, squeaky woman): “Oh, no, no…it’s OK.”

Valencia (now obviously irritated): “You are right on top of our anchor.”

Mr. Beneteau: Crickets…

“It’s OK” means “I don’t care”
Brian and I look at each other, jaws dropped. OMG. Did she just say “It’s OK”? Seriously, that’s not the right answer. But it’s always the answer. Our first year in La Paz, I described our dealings with another cruiser saying that exact same thing to us in this exact same anchorage about the exact same issue. We both start laughing at the irony.

Did they move? Nope.
We waited and watched, doing a mild bit of staring-down of our own. See, we’d prefer they move too. But they remain consciously obtuse - irreverent towards the safety-comfort-level of their neighbors. While pretty close, we feel Mr. Beneteau is a tolerable distance, so we opt to stay put. But Valencia, the boat so offended as to call Mr. Beneteau out on his proximity, does not move either. Either they decided they weren’t in dire straits, or they were just too lazy to get up and move.

Anchoring Etiquette: Don’t be a Dingo
In general, anchoring etiquette is simple: if you as the anchored boat think the incoming boat parked too close (and announces so), it is on the incoming guy to move; but if they refuse, and you remain, and an accident ensues… who do you think your insurance company will hold responsible for your boat damages? If you are uncomfortable with the situation enough to voice your opinion… and the other boat is a dingo and refuses… a healthy fear for the safety of your boat should prompt your departure, regardless of ego or convenience.

Fast forward several days later and we are anchored in San Evaristo, pondering this identical predicament…

San Evaristo Cluster-Fun.
A very large, very old, very ugly powerboat/barge contraption chugged its way into the snug harbor. I picture a 70ft, two-tiered version of the grimy, barnacle-encrusted “African Queen” (from the Katherine Hepburn movie of same name). It really didn’t look like that at all, but the offensive boat became personified as such in my mind as soon as he plopped his anchor down… right on top of us.

Now, when I say right on top, I mean it. This is not Valencia vs. Mr. Beneteau spacing, both with decent enough distance to remain in place all night. This was downright painful, body-hugging, spandex tight.

Radar Blob Monster
Intimidated by his size and proximity, I actually turned on the radar to confirm our suspicions about their distance. Our buddy-boat, Lorelei, was about 200ft to our left – a close but respectable distance for a friend-boat who you are comfortable yelling at if all hell breaks loose. But The African Queen’s massive radar blob was glowing like the sun, merely 100ft away. Damn…my eyes! Are you kidding? We have nearly that length of anchor chain out! This guy WILL whack us when we inevitably swing around to the west at night.

Now highly agitated, we glowered. We scowled. We gave our best disgusted glare. We waited for him to realize the error of his ways; sometimes they do and re-anchor. But African Queen appeared perfectly content attached to our hip.

So we opted to move, sans confrontation. We could already predict the answer anyway: “No really, It’s OK!” The African Queen was so big, and so NOT-maintained we did not relish them picking up and re-anchoring anywhere nearby. Would you want to park your still-in-good-shape 1990’s BMW next to a rusted-out, 1960’s Suburban tank? No. The screaming baby-on-board was the deal breaker. We’re out! We picked up anchor (ending up nose-to-nose within 20ft of their bow) and waved as we drove out the bay. Thanks, Dingo.

North Shore Sanctuary
Moving around to the north shore of San Evaristo, we safely ensconced ourselves in the wide bay, devoid of dingos. Only one other boat was parked…waaaay over there. Sigh. Peace.

Just as it was getting dark, our buddy boat, Lorelei, motors around the corner. What are you guys doing here? Well, they had their own anchoring saga to relay. Apparently, San Evaristo was THE place NOT to be tonight. Too bad we’d turned our radio off and missed THIS evening radio show…

Beware the Charter Catamarans
After we left, 4 charter catamarans traveling together like a pack of wild dingos tried to squeeze their wide-load rear ends in the already limited front row space. Two attempted to side-tie (tie together side-by-side with only fenders between and one boat’s anchor down) in between the now 300 feet between Lorelei and African Queen. Two 15ft boats swinging on one anchor in such close proximity to the others could have been catastrophic. Especially since oblivious charter cats habitually put down like 30 feet of scope, kind of like anchoring 20 tons with a fish hook.

Herding Cats
These catamarans were first warned by two boats that this was not a good idea, there’s not enough swing room for their double mass. In return, what did their dingo leader say? Everybody now… “No, no, It’s OK!” To which both cruisers shouted “NO, it’s NOT OK!” Herding cats is impossible.

Finally, after several other anchored boats expressed their extreme vocal displeasure, the cats reluctantly gave up the side-tying but continued their squeeze. With the obnoxious group boxing them in on both sides and still a bit too close for comfort, Lorelei grudgingly gave up and relocated to our neck of the woods. Sometimes you just can’t win these battles. I am regretful that our friend had to move out of these dingos’ way…but African Queen had it coming!

A Final Dressing-Down
Coincidently, as I began to edit this blog, I heard a one-sided radio conversation on this very topic. I recognize this particular woman’s teacher-like voice from the local radio net. Anchored in Isla Coronado, she incredulously and vehemently pronounces the following to someone whose response I can’t hear:

“Well I have no idea why in this big bay you picked that spot? We have a very heavy boat, we don’t swing the same way and we will be pointed west tonight so you will be right on top of our anchor once the wind switches.”

Ouch. I’m pretty sure that dingo moved.

In my opinion, THE number one thing to do in La Paz is to swim with the whale sharks. We did so with our friends on Lorelei back in 2014, arranging a tour through Marlin Adventures. It was approx. $50pp. A little steep but the boat ride was comfortable, the guide knowledgeable and he spoke English. I recommend this place. You get what you pay for. Seriously. Let me ‘splain.

I Know a Guy Who Knows a Guy
When our SoCal friends arrived last week, this was on the must-do list. But because we had already spent mucho dinero on an all-day sea lion tour, I was striving for cheaper thrills. Our friends had the number of a boat captain who charged $30pp just a couple months ago. Perfect. We call Salvador. But he doesn’t do that job anymore. Call Hector, he’ll do it. We call Hector. Hector says yes… 600pesos per person ($30), 700 with wetsuits/gear, 5 people. Meet in front of Burger King at 1pm Sunday. Perfect.

Where’s Hector?
Sunday arrives. We pile out of the shuttle and aim for the Malecon. This area of the boardwalk is rife with panga dudes hanging out near their boats soliciting passersby..."You want whale shark tour?"

​So is it any wonder my bright yellow fins are like a beacon to them screaming “snorkel tourist”, 'cause that’s the only reason anyone would be carrying fins to the Malecon. It’s only 12:25pm, we are super early. A man sees me, waves us over and acts like he is expecting us. I call out “Hector?” and he confirms yes. As we start talking though, it is painfully obvious he is NOT Hector but he claims to be in charge of operating the boat for Hector. We are immediately suspicious. Where is Hector?

Hector is in Guadalajara
“Oh, Hector is in Guadalajara at a party and cannot make it, but we are captaining the boat for him today.” Bizzare. Stuck in Cabo would have been more plausible. Maybe Hector got a bit schnockered last night and handed his business off last-minute. But Guadalajara? That would require an airplane ride. So why didn’t he mention he was in Guadalajara two days ago? Then again, why would he tell us? On top of this, the fee is cheaper… 500 pesos pp. Not arguing that, but some of us need wetsuits. They did not seem to be expecting this. OK, 600 with wetsuits. Hmmm.

Whale Shark Hustle?
We asked this dude to call Hector to confirm. Fortunately, our friend Luis speaks Spanish and talked to “Hector”. Luis could not recognize if it was the same voice, but when asked, “fake Hector” could not remember Luis’ name or the number of people he booked. He said 6, we said 5. Hmmm. I tried calling Hector’s original number on my phone, but no answer.

We mutter amongst ourselves wondering if they are scamming Hectors' business but since I cannot confirm via phone, and since they take us across the street to an office to get wetsuits, we decide it has to be semi-legit. I mean, at least there is an office, albeit a grungy one. But do we wait another half hour to see if Hector shows up or leave with these guys? Well, we’re here. It’s 100 pesos cheaper. We suit up.

Dodgeball
Since we feel it’s a conceivable coup, we feel the need to do our own little bit of dodgeball. We tell them Hector included drop off at Marina Costa Baja in the price. He didn’t - we were going to offer him a couple hundred pesos to do this, the cost of a taxi. “What? Hector didn’t tell us that. We can’t go into the marina, they won’t allow it.” We insisted to just drop us off at the beach. After hemming and hawing for a minute they decide this is OK and we have a deal.

Slow Ride
The boat is big enough for our group of 5, plus a driver and a spotter, but any more would have been over-crowded. The ride is a wet one, the boat not big or fast enough to repel the sizeable and constant spray generated. The ladder is rickety and very difficult to get on board. The wetsuits are all male and…well, not exactly form-fitting. (I’m glad I brought my own.) We take a seemingly inordinate time to get out to the sharks – they were waaaay out in the bay. Initially, we could not see any other tour boats nearby. Last time there were pangas everywhere. Did we miss the season? Are there any whales out here? Do these guys even know where they are? Are we going to be robbed and dumped overboard?

1st Jump
There’s one! Finally. We all point to the single giant cruising around our boat. The captain races to catch up with it, the guide jumps in and swims for it. Either he is holding onto the shark by its dorsal fin (not cool) or this young whippersnapper can swim like Michael Phelps. I honestly couldn’t tell how he was keeping up. We are all just concentrating on when to jump in the water as soon as he signals the OK. This first shark is on a mission though. Swimming perpendicularly at him, I didn’t even get close; he was cruising so fast I think only 1 person out of 5 actually saw it underwater. We got back in the boat discouraged: “Wow, this is IT? Is that all there is going to be? This sucks.”

2nd Jump
After several minutes of cruising around we finally see multiple sharks! The 2nd jump was the perfect combination of “Wow” and “Whew!” Yes…validation! See, I told you it was cool! Everyone got to experience several sharks up close and personal. This group moved slow and fed lazily, just meandering back and forth. Sunlight filtered through the water at a perfect angle; the water was much clearer than even where we were 5 minutes ago. Great viewing. Our guests were sufficiently impressed. Whew. They’re happy; I’m happy.

3rd time’s the charm!
Before the 3rd jump, we debated about going in again but once we saw another group feeding, a couple of us went for it. The wind had picked up. The waves were coming in high and choppy, enough to swamp my snorkel. By the end it was impossible to breathe normally while snorkeling and we were exhausted from swimming fast and dodging massive tails. But by that time I didn’t care, this was my best encounter yet...

Last Time
Two years ago, the water was so shadowy with krill and plankton and the sunlight so insufficient, that the sharks giant bodies were continuously veiled. Suddenly a 3ft gaping mouth would appear 10 feet from my face. Freaking out, I’d frantically backpedal away before it got too close, then it disappeared as if behind a mist. Having large creatures (5x my height) lurking about me in murkiness was mildly nerve-racking. It didn’t matter knowing these sharks don’t/can’t bite; I was more afraid of getting schwacked unconscious by a flicking tail. We could see them way better from above looking down into the water that day than we could under it. Above water, their massiveness was impressive. See my blog post from 2014. While a great experience, the second time was even better just knowing what to expect…

This Time
Today, choppy waves obscured the sharks from above. But under water, waves did not matter. I could clearly see them coming from probably 50ft away. And being able to approach them, rather than be surprised by them, was a much more comfortable … and gratifying… experience.

This time, I was able to just float, calmly witnessing these gentle giants (OK mostly calm). Their 25ft bodies hung at a 60 degree angles as if suspended in space; their 3ft mouth gaped wide open at the surface, gulping in krill and plankton. I could clearly see the throat expanding and contracting to consume water, the gills flaring, the smooth, speckled skin, the sharky-tail propelling silently (and fortunately not deadly) through the water.

Rule #1: Don't Kick the Sharks
One behemoth seemed to be doing dainty pirouettes, slowly swirling upright in one spot… performing water ballet. Wow. Mesmerized by this guy, I didn’t see his friend closing in on me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement and heard people yelling from the boat. Stupidly, I kicked frantically to get out of its way. When I felt my fin tip barely flick this 20,000 pound beast, I swore/screamed (quite loudly), worried I had scared him into flailing his dangerous tail. Thankfully, my transgression didn’t seem to bother him (he probably didn't even feel it - their skin is 4" thick). But it scared the pants off me. Or should I say wetsuit. Everybody got a good laugh at that one! Sorry guys, I did not get this freak-out on film. (Or did I?)

The Verdict? Worth It!
The second time around, despite dubious initial circumstances, was well worth it. It pays to do this tour twice allowing for different conditions. But it also pays to arrange it with a real tour company. With a real office. Cheaper isn’t always smarter.

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Side note: We were talking to a couple of cruising kids recently, maybe 7-yrs old, and asked them if they’d seen the whale sharks yet. “Oh yeah. Four times.” Wow. How’s that for a cruising kid’s life!

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Whale Shark Facts:

• Whale sharks are not whales; they are a species of shark.
• They are filter feeders similar to the baleen whale or basking shark. Pretty much they ingest whatever is in their path, forcing the water back out through their gills.
• Whale sharks can filter over 1500 gallons of water per hour.
• They eat plankton, krill, tiny fish, squid, jellyfish & fish eggs. Fortunately, not people.
• Whale sharks are the largest fish in the world. They are also the largest non-cetacean animal. In other words, only whales are bigger.
• Average size = 30-40 ft. That’s over 20,000 lbs of pure shark.
• Their mouths can span 3-5 feet in width!
• Each whale shark has a unique color pattern. The distinctive array of spots and stripes can be used to identify specific sharks.
• Average age – Internet consensus seems to be 70 yrs. Some say they can live to well over 100!

“I'd like to be… under the sea… in an octopus' garden in the shade.”  The Beatles

We’d visited Isla Ispiritu Santos a couple times since our November arrival in La Paz. At Ensenada Grande, we snorkeled along the red cliffs and hiked the 3-1/2hr-long, boulder-strewn canyon with buddy boat, Lorelei. At Playa Bonanza on New Year’s Eve, we witnessed a beach fireworks display from our anchored vantage point. At Candeleros, we discovered the curious clowny-fish who fell in love with Brian’s bright blue reef shoes. But our snorkeling excursion off the north shore of Bahia Cardonal took the cake.

Oct-tastic!
As I slowly skimmed along in 4-5 feet of water, a billowing cloud of sand caught my eye. A few feet in front of me, I discovered a small octopus digging into the sea floor. I’d only ever seen one in an aquarium – what a treat! Excited, I called to Brian “Octopus! Hurry!” Get yer flippin’ fins over here!

We weren’t the only swimmers who noticed his silty disturbance. Several small fish congregated around the octopus, unafraid, darting about like pesky puppies. “Watcha doin’?” I presume they were gathering up goodies flung from his excavation.

Mesmerized by this creature, we watched it for several minutes. The contracted body/head was about the size of my foot, not including its 2ft-ish long arms. (Google tells me octopi technically have arms, not tentacles.) We are not sure what it was doing exactly; probably digging for a clam dinner. At one point, it stretched its arms, puffed its head and tented its body in full, posturing to appear as big and ominous as possible. Then it flashed color briefly to a luminous, iridescent blue. I’m warning you! Don’t come any closer or you’ll get the INK!

Vanishing Act
After deciding we weren’t a threat it settled down, it’s body turning into just another rock or coral protrusion, its arms perfectly melted into mottled sand. It was camouflaged so ingeniously that, had it not been moving earlier, I never would have suspected its presence. How do they DO that?

Invisible Man
Cephalopods, like octopus, cuttlefish and squid, have the extraordinary ability to become invisible. Their talent for color-changing and pattern-imitation is well-known. But such amazing adaptation expertise goes even further…they’ve actually got no kidding, shape-shifting skillz. Devoid of a shell or skeleton, these fine escape artists can squeeze their slippery bodies through tiny crevices, a handy technique for evading predators or surprising prey. Here’s an interesting video of one slipping through a hole in a boat (not our boat, just so we’re clear).  Most interesting though, is the ability to change skin texture, something no other species can accomplish.

Real Life Shape-Shifters
Picture that X-Men morphing maven, “Mystique”, suddenly ruffling her cobalt-blue skin cells into that of a grumpy old man. Similarly, beneath an octopus’ smooth, super-skin, mutating muscles allow incredible transformations in surface texture to match its surroundings. Straight out of a Sci-Fi movie. Fine wrinkles and craggy crinkles erupt into rough ridges and sharp spikes or melt into bitty bumps and thick lumps. Along with dead-on accurate color and pattern mimicry, the disguise is instantaneous. An octopus can suggest the swaying of sinuous seaweed, copy the crusty knobs of coral heads and replicate the granular ripple of the sandy sea floor. If only we humans could acquire their closely guarded secret; think of it - no more forehead wrinkles!

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Click the link below to witness rare & amazing footage of a shape-shifting rock turned octopus.
Video by marine biologist Roger Hanlon.