Guaymas, Mexico....Part One

My friend Bill, that I used to scuba dive with, lives on his boat in Mexico now. with his wife, Miriam. They have traveled all over the South Pacific and Mexican coastline in their sailboat, Moonhunter.

The best days of my working underwater were with Bill and his friend John.
Together,
we repaired sewer outfall lines in zero visibility,
cleaned the intakes screens at hydro dams,
 salvaged sunken steel boom boats from the depths for insurance companies,
salvaged sunken yachts from the bottom of storm ravaged marinas,
 and practiced diving to depths that were a ton of fun at the time...but I wouldn't ever consider repeating again.

Bill making adjustments on my gear

Bill and John in Agamemnon Channel heading to the site of a wreck, Jason and I in the other boat alongside

Nelson Island at the site of a 76 foot Chinese Junk type of boat that hit the rocks in vicious storm and went to the bottom in a thousand pieces.

Some of the debris on the bottom. That's an aluminum work boat and outboard motor that got torn to pieces in the wreck
 

Bill was the first guy that I ever saw send or receive an email. It was magic to watch the page take about 2 minutes to load,and connect us to the world.
Bill had smarts for designing and building things on a budget. My favourite was his design for an underwater rebreather setup, similar to the one that the US Navy Seals used. Except that his design had none of the issues and drawbacks of theirs. The evolution of the rebreather designs were named the "Kervorkian series"...after the famous assisted suicide practioner, Dr Kervorkian. The last version was capable of mixing the breathing gases correctly for dives down to 300 feet.
Oh...and he built all of the rebreathers with parts from  building supplies and plumbing stores...mixed in with a bit of mail order.
When Bill was on a tear, in design mode...doing the mad scientist trip, I could barely understand a word he was saying. I got buried in pressure differentials, micro-volt sensors, Boyles Law calculations and such.
I just listened, in the hope that something would stick, or he would revert to English...either or.

Here are some pics from a job, that involved installing steel cables on a capsized barge. The barge was loaded with machines and gear and had flipped over while being towed. The upside down barge was then moved to Port Mellon for the attempts at righting it. Bill did the diving and I was the rescue diver and topside guy. This whole event deserves it's own blog post, so I'll leave it at that.

This is the underside of the barge...it's upside down

One of the attempts to flip it...( it's a long story )

This is what the top side looks like...of course minus all the equipment that fell off when it flipped over. This was one of the stranger days I ever had working around the water.

This is the guy that invited me to visit him and Miriam down in Mexico.

By the time that I had the magic combination of both time and money, Bill and Miriam were at Guaymas, (why-mas )Mexico. They had the boat out of the water for repairs and paint. Bill didn't think it was the best time to visit, what with the boat being high and dry in a dusty boatyard and all. I though, hey Mexico is Mexico, so who really cares?
Now for some reason, all through our email conversations, I thought that Bill was in La Paz. In my head, as the clock and calendar clicked along, my travel ideas revolved around that mistake.
At some point the error got figured out, and Guaymas became the new and proper destination. That left just one issue. Where the fucking hell is Guaymas?
Bill sent me a Google map, and got me dialed into where the boatyard was, in relation to the center of town.
OK, cool, now how am I supposed to get there?
Bill's suggestion for both fun and economy...is to fly to Mazatlan, and then bus for 12 hours north to Guaymas.

The bus idea didn't sit well.
I had visions of 70 people, 20 chickens and 14 goats on a 1957 Bluebird school bus driving into a 500 foot ravine and exploding on impact.
Bill suggested that wasn't  the current reality on that particular route, and that the likelihood of survival was up in the 50% range, well above the 40% range where stupidity lives.
Oh, and take the bus at night, so as not waste precious  Mexican trip daytime.

Ok, Bill, sounds good. I'll take a Mexican bus at night on a 12 hour, 500 mile trip at night into the land of the Sinaloan drug cartels...peachy keen, there bud.
Bill says it will be fine, don't worry about it.
After all look at him..he hasn't been kidnapped, dismembered, and left in the street in pieces, so the chances are, you will just fine also.
Like he said, we were operating in that 50% zone, well above stupid.

I got a great deal on a flight and hotel in Mazatlan from the Flightcenter store just down the block on Denman Street..
I was very happy with the low cost of both, and guidance for my particular type of Mazatlan experience. (cheap and low profile )
My own attempts at phoning around Mazatlan, looking for deals were laughable. Even at the big name hotels, English was not going to get me very far....either on the phone, or in an email. So the Flightcenter people got me where I wanted to go, and for less money.

The trip down featured a stop in L.A., before zooming down to Maz.  Back on the plane, when we had to fill out the visitor cards, I couldn't remember what state Guaymas was in. I asked my  Mexican seatmate.
"You are going to Guaymas?"
 I sensed a bit of surprise...a touch of shock.
"Why are you going there, my friend?"
I explained. His look of surprise didn't go away.
After a bit of conversation...where I tried to figure out what the problem was..he relaxed a bit. He said it's a very nice place and he had friends there.
I have no clue what the original reaction was all about...but it was a bit unnerving.

Landing in Mazatlan in early January, after leaving Vancouver, was a treat. Warm breeze, warm sun and friendly people. Pesos instead of dollars. There is a shuttle bus from the airport that takes you for the 30 minute ride into Maz. Most of the Canadians and Americans crammed into van are veterans of the local scene. This is like going home for them.
I was booked into the Ramada, and instantly fell in love with it right from the start. Great looking building, nice people inside and out...and a beach side booze hut. It had the look, the smell and the setting of a beach paradise.
Job number one, was to head to the beachside restaurant and order up dinner and several Pacifico beers.
This was day one of this Mexican trip. More to come...and they just got better and better.