The other day when we lifted the anchor right before dark for the overnight sail to Santa Rosalia we saw just how lucky we were that we left when we did. The anchor was just barely hanging onto the chain thanks to a missing pin on the swivel shackle. Again, my terminology is bad, but see that little round cotter pin in the picture? That was missing. And that big pin that the anchor is pulling against had managed to slide halfway out—only the weight of the anchor pulling against it was keeping it from falling all the way out. And yes, I know that little round pin I put in isn’t correct, but it’s all I could find at the moment, and I knew we weren’t dropping anchor again for a while.
And just to continue my healthy living posts—here was tonight’s little snack. Times two. The Mexican Hot Dog. Dog wrapped in bacon, covered in onions, tomatoes, mayo, ketchup, cheez whiz, and jalapeños, all wrapped up in an incredibly large soft bun. Sixteen pesos please.
I don’t think these two have ever been quite this sweaty and dirty. It was just one of those days where they played hard, and were sure to play on floors, under tables, on sidewalks, whatever. Here we were sitting in the town gymnasium again watching the girls play basketball. Ouest’s favorite was the girl with the purple stripe down the side of her shorts. She watched her as if she was the greatest professional athlete on earth.