I visited a friend in Chicago and he had a great view of the city right from his balcony. I snapped a few photos of the night lights, river, and cloudy sky. The lights of a city seem so powerful to me now, after days spent completely alone in the darkness of the ocean.

Chicago Night Sky #2

Chicago Night Sky #3

As for me, I’ve been all over the place since flying from Cancun to Chicago. Literally. The only proper solution to returning from an epic sailing adventure is to pack up the car and drive west. So I did. And now I’m in San Francisco.

With the dire financial situation I was facing by mid-February, my brother’s impending departure to study abroad in Germany, and my general desire to hang out around 20-somethings on a more frequent basis than never I decided to pack up and move off the boat and on to the next adventure.

The "A" is for Punta Allen & that's the Bahia de la Ascension to the south. (via maps.google.com)

Of course, we were anchored in la Bahia de la Ascension, where the nearest city was Punta Allen (population 600) and this city was separated from anything else by a narrow strip of land accessed by a rutted dirt road. The only way to leave was to take the 5am bus to Tulum or to hitchhike.

Living in Hawaii for a few months in 2009 gave me super-hitchhike confidence so I decided that was the way to go. Hell yeah! No problem! I’ll hitchhike to Tulum, check out the Mayan ruins overlooking the Caribbean, and then get a ride up to Cancun to catch my flight.

It sounds so easy, right?

The French-Canadian coffee stand owner assured me that if I stood at the edge of town, I’d easily catch a ride and be up in Tulum by late morning. I stood by the “Buen Viaje” sign for several hours, taking pictures, playing the ukulele, and getting told, regretfully by each passing car, that “sorry, we’re just headed up the road a few miles.” (I’ll just forget about all the gringos in their shiny rental Jeeps that completely ignored me. Haters.)

That pile of luggage looks so not intimidating, but carrying it all across the Yucatan was the bane of my existence for 48 hours.

Fortunately, a 50 year old Mexican man who went by Tabasco was also hitching a ride in the same direction. I suddenly was required to call on my high-school Spanish that I had avoided using while surrounded by my crewmates who spoke more confidently and fluently that I ever could. We spent the better part of the afternoon speaking Tarzan Spanish sitting in the dirt, but I managed to communicate my plans and understand that Tabasco could help me find a place to stay in Tulum.

We finally caught a ride in the bed of a pickup that was delivering tortillas to the remote Punta Allen. I was told the ride would be uncomfortable in an air-conditioned Jeep. Balanced on a cooler full of hot tortillas, under a hot canvas tent that was only open in the rear we made the 3 hour trek, hanging desperately onto whatever we could, half absorbing the majestic vistas, half praying the ride would be over soon.

By the time we were in the paved road civilization of Tulum, surrounded by American tourists, I felt like the dirtiest hippie ever. When I slapped my jeans, a cloud of dust would sprout out of my thigh. For the last bit of the trip, I strummed my ukulele and Tabasco sang some love song in Spanish and a car of Americans behind us pointed and laughed and the girl behind the wheel mouthed “I’m going to take a picture” and then took a picture of the dirty ukulele girl and the love song singing man with her cell phone.

So somewhere in the world this girl is coming home from vacation showing her friends my picture, going “Oh My God! Look how funny, in the back of a truck! Only in Mexico!”

I love my underwater camera! It’s still a work in progress, trying to figure out how to take good-quality photos while spearfishing, but I’m getting there. I saw a SHARK that was 6 feet long! And a huge manta ray! And fish that were just a little too friendly (I think the Cancun tourist boats must feed them. No fish should be that excited to see me!)

Nurse shark on the Grand Bahama Bank. Not dangerous, but even getting this close pissed him off. I think we were disturbing his beauty sleep.

Manta Ray on the Grand Bahama Bank

The fish were so friendly off Isla Mujeres that it freaked me out. Like they were trying to point me out to the sharks - hey! hey! look at this much juicier meat! Or, reality, they probably see snorkeling human as "bringer of food"

Isla Mujeres has a heavy influx of tourists coming over from Cancun for day-trips, but when the sun sets, the cantinas are quiet and the streets are calm. And then I lie on the ground with my camera and muse on what life with a tripod would be like.

Isla Mujeres is a small island about 7 miles east of the tourist metropolis of Cancun. After days and days on the ocean, Cancun, with it’s incredibly American-catering population, would surely be the place we could reprovision AND get all the parts we needed to fix the multitude of issues on the boat. Balancing a desire to experience the “real” Mexico, but also to have access to the necessary boat provisions, we anchored in the calm Bahia of la isla and spent a week soaking up guacamole and internet in colorful outdoor cafes, in between the requisite runs to customs, machine shops, and supermercados.

I once read boating described as locking oneself in a damp closet and ripping up hundred dollar bills. It’s true, almost. Thankfully it’s not MY boat, but there sure are endless quantities of things that will break on a boat. Everything from engines to refrigerators to toilets need maintenance, and by the time we were halfway past Cuba it was clear that the captain was gonna have to drop some dough to fix his boat.

All the things that needed fixing, left me with plenty of time to work on provisioning (So many cheap avocados. The oranges taste like ORANGES instead of tangy styrofoam! Jicama, so yummy!) and beefing up my Spanish. And thoroughly experiencing the Isla by chatting up fishermen at their docks, spending a sketchy evening with the crew and some Mexican fishermen drinking 40s of Sol in a dark corner, and taking a hilarious dinghy snorkel trip that I refuse to publish on the internet but will tell you over coffee when we hang out. Promise.

It’s been a lovely sort-of Mexico experience. Still very touristy, but so nice to be around other people. Living on a sailboat has many perks, and has taught me so much, but I remain “crew” which means I don’t get a lot of say in everything and definitely miss interactions with people who aren’t the other 3 people who fill my life at sea.

Yay! Land!

Someone take away the self-timer on my camera. Please.

After diving reefs for almost a week in the middle of nowhere, the wind picked up and we were sailing again. Destination: Mexico.

The course we took was from just off the Grand Bahama Bank, across the length of Cuba, south of Florida and the Keys, and then across the Yucatan straight to Isla Mujeres, an touristy island seven miles off the coast of Cancun.

Cuba? Fucking huge. So long. Eternity. It’s, like, longer than Florida, which is really really long. And in a car, driving the length of Florida is no easy feat. Sailing it? Forever. But we had a variety of adventures…

taken with my waterproof camera while we dragged behind the sailing boat.

Learning to fly the spinnaker (a huge, parachute-like sail that requires skill and knowledge to fly) was fun. Even more fun was, under sail at a slow, spinnaker pace, tying up lines to the stern and jumping overboard to get dragged behind the boat at a few knots of speed.

need to work on my fast-moving-swimming-creatures-taken-from-a-moving-boat photography; dolphins are there, i swear!

One morning when I woke up my crewmate on watch motioned me out to the bow of the boat where nine or ten dolphins were swimming around the wake. We were moving at a slow enough speed that we could hang our waists over the bow rail and get within feet of the playful animals.

the closest I got to Cuba

A pelican flew over from Cuba, which we could see in the distance for a great portion of the journey. Not permitted to make landfall there because the captain is former military and going to Cuba is considered treason, so the big bird hanging out on deck was the closest we got.

After departing George Town, Bahamas, we set sail for the long passage to the Yucatan. The shallows of the Bahamas extend far beyond the islands so our passage from the southern Bahamas (just north of the east end of Cuba) to the edge of the Grand Bahama Bank was over 60 miles. We stopped halfway and set anchor. Surrounded by only ocean for hundreds of miles, we were in only 20 feet of crystal clear water.

Diving Heaven

20 feet of water and you can see my shadow on the bottom. it was that clear.

what are these, i do not know, besides "sweeeeet"

more reefy coral creatures

tropical fishies! no good for spearing.

Dinner! (Excuse the Busch Lite can... my crewmate ran out of good beer and was breaking into the stale beer no one would touch in the fridge.)

Fishing is way harder than I thought it would be. I float above schools of fish, wondering, “Does he taste good? Should I shoot him? Oh, definitely not him, he’s getting to close to me, if he’s not afraid of my spear then he definitely isn’t my prey.” I decide that the ones that run away are the tasty ones, but by this point my body temperature is lowering to the water temp and my snorkel has formed my lips into an uncomfortable, salty “O” shape. I dive down to the bottom of the reef, stalking my prey, and halfheartedly shoot at him. I know that if I actually injure him and don’t catch him I will feel worse.

Wait, aren’t you a vegetarian? Indeed. Sort of. I don’t like labels. I prefer to eat animals that I can kill myself. I think that society, as a whole, is way too detached from their food source and I’m taking action in my life to become slightly less detached. A large part of this trip is to introduce myself to fishing so that one day I’ll be capable on my own. And at least more self-sufficient in one sense!

This was John’s first catch (outside of the bajillion lobsters and crabs we have been catching). Crewmate Tony, fresh from the cold winter of Maine, filleted this big fishy while I watched. I will fillet my first catch. And take pictures.

Before I left civilization, I was recommended Pema Chodron audio books after I mentioned that I listened to a Dalai Lama audio for inspiration. I got a copy of “Going to the Places that Scare You” from a friend, and started listening to it but was immediately turned off because it was a live recording. Anytime I get a live album, I tend to shun it – it generally means lots of annoying people screaming, and if I wanted to hear the band live… well… I’d actually see them live. Otherwise, give me studio recording, thankyouverymuch. I am not sure how this translates to a Buddhist talk, other than me being a whiney asshole who doesn’t appreciate gifts very gracefully.

Anyways, now that I have lots of free time to, you know, think, and stuff, I decided to give the recording another shot. Turns out I was sitting on a goldmine! A recording of an entire weekend retreat! If I close my eyes I am transported to Berkeley in 2001 with the soothing voice of Pema Chodron and the insightful questions of the participants.

En route to Mexico from the Bahamas, we pulled off the highway (har har har) and anchored in some 10-20 foot shallows that, according to the GPS, were filled with rocks. The wind was at an utter standstill and the rocks turned out to be incredible coral reefs, rich with lobsters, crabs and fish. Diving heaven.

After a few days anchored in, literally, the middle of the ocean, we decided to motor slightly more west (and get a couple miles closer to Mexico) and see what else we could find. Mind you, Mexico is about 600 miles away, so now we are only 597 miles away.

The GPS is about as accurate as my archery, which as anyone in my 5th grade gym class can attest, is about as accurate as a blindfolded one-armed pirate’s archery. So when navigating the rockpiles you can’t rely on it to tell if there is a giant coral reef in your way.

Escaping the humid heat that 3 days of windless sun brings, I was sitting in my bunk, eyes closed, at a Buddhist retreat in Berkeley in 2001. We were practicing Tong Len, and I was concentrating on focusing on breathing in my aversions (“Face what you find repulsive.”) and breathing out kindness and compassion. It was quiet, aside from the running engine as the captain and my crewmate sought out new diving rocks.

In the silence, the guys started pointing out rocks. I attempted to stay focused. “Breathe in. Breathe out. Tong Len.”

Suddenly, “There’s one right ahead!” “How far?” “RIGHT ahead!” “That means nothing, give me a distance, 10, 20, 50 feet?”

Semi-focused, “Breathe in your aversion. Breathe out compassion.”

“It’s RIGHT AHE–” cccccrrrrrrrrrrrrrrruuuuuunnnnnnchhhhhhh. The noise that followed is hard to describe, beyond “a sailboat running over a giant rock.” I know, get a friggin’ metaphor, Lindsey.

My Buddhist retreat was aborted, temporarily, as I threw off my headphones, ipod flailing, and made sure we weren’t sinking. Twas’ but a flesh wound, scraping off a layer of bottom paint, but hell it was scary. Imagine sinking in the middle of nowhere in 20 feet of ocean. The Coast Guard would have found me perched on the top of the mast, meditating with Pema Chodron.

I have a water-resistant camera! I took some pictures! UNDER THE WATER!

Looking up from underwater. I loved this so much I made it my desktop background.

Self Portrait?

I need a wider lens... 1/2" doesn't cut it.

The water was kind of cold in the Bahamas in January, so I didn’t spend a lot of time floating around with my camera. MEXICOOOO. (If I shout it enough, it will come faster.)

My guest blogging gig over at Stratejoy ended on Sunday. Tear! Six months of weekly posts behind me. Six months of love and connection and amazingness, shared by my fellow guest bloggers Doniree, Nikki, Marian, Renee & Alisha. It was such a great experience to be a part of this community, and I had so much fun writing these past months!

I started writing when I wasn’t quite sure what was coming next for me and was quite panicked. Quarterlife Crisis I called it. Well, I’m happy to say, I’m not in crisis-mode anymore – many thanks to the Stratejoy Tribe for the ongoing conversations of the past months.

Nowadays, I’m just living my life to the fullest, with intention.

Some highlights of the past six months:

Life Lessons Learned While Traveling

Life is Not a Lottery

Dancing Down the Path of Least Resistance

Advice for my Younger Self

Finding Inspiration Through Alternative Lifestyles

And starting next week – Season 4. Follow along with six new bloggers, sharing their Quarterlife Crisis stories and their big dreams for the future.

Oh, and me?

As for me, well, I haven’t been around the internet for a while. I’m sailing to Mexico! Many more stories to come.

By the way, like my mash up photo above? That was at home on the beach this summer… it’s kind of a messy edit, but I kind of like it too much to kill it. Wheeeee! Free girl! That’s me.