Windhorse Sailing

We took our time getting up after our late night arrival. The three of us got the dingy and its engine set up quickly and went ashore. In a way it was like we never left land and in another way it was like arriving on another planet. The first person to say anything to me spoke Spanish at an alarming rate. I fired back “Estoy aprendiendo Espanol…” as if that would slow him down. His name was Mario and he was the security guard at the port. He had a huge smile with a big gray tooth in the middle. He tried to speak English until Francis stepped in. Then the information flowed.

Before steering us to customs and immigration Mario gave us the rundown. Where everything was. He would later walk us to his favorite lunch spot. Whenever we went to or from the boat we were sure to see Mario. And to see him was to talk to him, even me with my pigeon Spanish.

There were several tall apartment buildings in sight. Indeed we had remarked on the way in that they were dark. Everybody must be asleep. It turns out they were empty. Punta Del Este is a summer vacation beach town for South America’s elite. Being the-off season now, things are really quiet. They crowd picks up on weekends, but nothing like the summer months that make this a place that gets talked about. It is like a cross between South beach and Vegas, except they go all year long.

Mario told us that that fireworks we heard coming in at 2am were at the local stadium for the mayoral elections in Maldonado, the provincial capital right up the road. There seemed to be several parties all with vocal supporters. The people here love their democracy and seem to accept matter of fact that it comes with a fair bit of corruption.

Once we got the formalities out of the way, Mario, customs and immigration, we could focus on searching out that which we were missing most. For me those things were beer, movies and a hot shower in any order. Stevo and I found the port facilities and each bought a 6 minute token thanks to Stevo’s Spanish and 2$ US. It had been cold and damp the last few days and a hot shower was a luxury even considering I had to use at least 2 minutes of my token waiting for the hot water to warm up. Then we all grabbed lunch at a seafood joint were I was able to order steak. It was the only place open. Anyway the local brew, Pilsen, went down like water. Having been at sea for 57 days, I only needed one, so I had two, which went perfectly with the steak, which was great. After dinner, it was off to the movies. I quickly realized that the theater is only open on weekends in the off-season so I settled for a New York Times and a Maxim Magazine. Real sailors on leave, eh?

Getting down to business, Francis Stayed talking to Mario while Stevo and I got showers and, surprise, Mario had a mechanic for us. After lunch and a short walk around we came back to the boat, to meet Mario and Luis Salinas who would fix our transmission. He took a look and agreed to come with the proper tools the next morning. With that we took a bus into nearby Maldonado and checked out emails for the first time in months and then settled down to a few beers and pizza.

And here comes the part where, in a way, it was like we never left land and in another way it was like arriving on another planet - it was decided over these beers and pizza that Stevo would leave us.

Suffice it to say that 57 days at sea can put a strain on even the best intentions. Stevo has gone home to the U.S. to pursue his regular seasonal employment. He will be missed and I wish him well.