Lluvias

I was still pretty young the first time I drove to Arizona with my dad. In fact I think it was the only time I've road tripped to Arizona. I'm completely guessing here, I'm going to say somewhere around ten. There isn't a lot I remember about it, but one memory takes hold above anything else that came from it. It was pretty soon after entering the Arizona border, when it started raining. The landscape was fairly arid, but I recall a long line of the giant telephone poles and some red mountains off in the distance. My dad pulled over suddenly, told me to climb out and smell the rain. I was perplexed, but I did what he asked. It was the most amazing thing that had ever permeated into my nostrils. Warm and sweet, like I was standing in a green house full of some magical flower. I was speechless as I looked half excited/half inquiring at my Dad, who only said, "Arizona Rain". I haven't smelled anything like it since, but it has caused a fascination and somewhat of a romantic relationship between myself and the water that falls out of the sky.

The people from Oregon reading this I'm sure are rolling their eyes, or should be, since rain is such a frequent occurrence back home, and it certainly doesn't have any kind of smell that would make up for the general dreariness that it causes. Nevertheless, I'm generally a rain fan. Remember this and smile as I recite my new line of trouble, just as I had to do... multiple times.

Last night was my first big rain down here in Guatemala. It has continued off and on for most of the day, and this evening was our first consistent break from it. I hadn't been expecting to see much but a few drops while I was down here...I was proven very wrong. It dumped. and dumped and dumped. During one particular stint, I am awakened by drops falling on my hand, and I jolt up with the thought of leaking pounding in my skull. It's nothing really, but drops coming from a hatch which is supposed to be sealed shut still causes a minor annoyance. Grumbling, I wrack my mind for a simple, creative, and quick fix which will allow me to maintain what dry patches of sheet I have left and get back to sleep as soon as possible. My raincoat. Perfect. The things meant to get wet, it can act as a shield. But what will hold it down? I'd never forgive myself if I let the wind blow it away. But the continual water drops falling on what is now my head has more pull than it should, and I go outside with the coat, hoping to find something heavy to hold it in place as I go. I see the towels. Coincidentally, they were left hanging on the life-lines so they would dry. It wasn't much, but they were soaked and heavy. I was too tired to think of a better alternative. i threw my coat over the hatch, threw the towel over it around the edges of the hatch, and that was that. The rain was coming down so hard that while I had not even been out from under the leaky Bimini while outside, I still came back into my cabin wet and shaking like my dog after a bath. In any case, I slept dry through the rest of the night and more of the morning than I would prefer.

The day was pretty slow, compared to my previous...jeez, is it Monday night already?...six days prior, since it was the first day of frequent rain. Stayed on the island all day, reading, caught up in this book The Hunger Games. Either that or putting a layer of water-proofing paint on some bracket for some place. When the sun broke, Fred and I would scramble out, him to the engine compartment, me to the hatches and windows, putting on silicone sealant and covering the windows in Gorilla Tape.

I think the most charming part of the day was in the late morning during a break we thought would last longer than it did, and we unfurled the Spinnaker sail (oddly, it had gotten wet from being out on deck last night). While we only let half of it out of it's bag, it was already spreading across the whole boat when the wind picked up. Seeing that multicolored sea of nylon dance around like that gave me just enough time for a brief sigh of contentment, before I noticed the rain clouds inching closer behind it. The first wave hit was relatively weak, and we let the sail be, cleverly forecasting that the forecast would call an end to the west wind's mid-day cry session.

But you can guess that the forecast did follow our direct instructions. Rather, the west wind had been cheered up by our silly shenanigans, stopped crying, and decided to piss on us instead. Sooo my uncle and I sheepishly bowed our heads, took our licks like men. And when the second and third and fourth humiliating yet awe-inspiring downpour had run it's course, we took down the majestic sail to be "dried out" another day, hopefully soon when we're out in the middle of open ocean with nothing to run into. And, publicly admitting our defeat, the weather rewarded us with the first sunset I was able to capture with my GoPro. Of course, the standard remedy to a long day's suffering was required, as per any proper celebration (see prior blogs, keyword: cervesa).



With the short moments of cloud break and with sunshine fading fast, I hit the pool and snapped a few test pictures under water with toy.



I think I've spilled enough (pardon the pun) for one day. Smooth sailing, happy trails, don't fly your spinnaker in 20 knot winds, don't EVER take an un-potty trained dog on a sail boat... and when there's so much rain falling that it looks like the sea's upside down, just smile and think about how cool it is that you can breath under water.