Story # 14 of Xcalak, Grand Costa Maya Mexico Caribbean travel adventures weather information at portillas.com

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I had planned today’s report since I completed the last one and just about had it edited in my feeble little mind. I have been reflecting on what I brought here and what I wished I had brought now possessing the knowledge of what is apparently not available here. However, today’s events changed my mind (Does that mean I got a new one or just an old used one? Maybe I’ll be a brain surgeon when I grow up.). I will continue to compile a report based on that subject for a later date.

Portillas.com is finally switched to a new server and the DNS has been repaired. I am in the process of adding new images and reorganizing them in a new area called the “Image Gallery.” It is still in beta form and the images and links are not yet complete. The ones that are there haven’t all been renamed or optimized for rapid loading. So, if it seems like pouring molasses (which you can’t get here for making my home made Bar B Que sauce.), either wait or hit the stop button and try another link. Additionally, I haven’t installed all of the navigation bars yet. You may have to use your back button on your browser from time to time. I will continue to improve it daily now as I have time. I hope you enjoy it.

Herbert, who many of you know, baby sat Portillas while I was finalizing my affairs in Houston and finally made the trek here. He had gathered a lot of wood and rope (In seaman’s terms it is known as line.) while cleaning the beach. During his stay, he expertly crafted a sizeable raft he named, “The Minnow.” (A picture is below.) A fine seaworthy vessel she was. I poled her all around this area, trying to learn these local waters.

Eventually, I bought the 12’ Seylor Fish Hunter inflatable from Blue Eyes right before he left to return to Michigan. This vessel left the Minnow moored at the pilings, unused. The Minnow became waterlogged and was difficult to pole. I neglected to dry-dock her for her badly needed drying out to maintain her buoyancy. Right before I left for Cancun for my monthly shopping, we had a tremendous thunderstorm (You may recall my being hit by lightning during it.). The Minnow’s dock line snapped and she drifted up the beach about fifty yards and firmly planted herself partially on the beach in such a manner I did not expect her to move. When I returned, she was still there in exactly the same place.

There must have been a few enormous tides the past few days. I have heard several waves making it all the way to the beach here for the first time since my arrival. They evidently were large enough to make it over the reef giving me a few foot and a half breakers at the shoreline where I had before only seen absolutely placid waters.

As Tan and I took our morning stroll to see what God sent us to play with today, I realized the Minnow was gone! Nowhere in sight was she. I launched Fish Hunter and proceeded north along the coast line. A few hundred meters up the shoreline was the Minnow; thoroughly snagged and tangled in some mangrove roots. I had enough line on the Fish Hunter to reef it to the Minnow so I could gently extract her from the bird’s nest of roots and pole her back to Portillas for dry-dock without losing Fish Hunter in the process. Her water soaked Balsa pontoons were barely buoyant enough to support her deck and definitely not me. The salvage operation took almost three hours. Exhausted and wanting my second cup of coffee by 9:30AM, I beached both vessels on the far north beach of El Rancho Portillas, barely south of the beginning of the mangroves, to solicit ‘Ole Blue’s assistance in dry-docking the water laden Minnow.

I crafted a yoke from her broken 5/8” poly dock line using bowlines and backed 'Ole Blue right up to her bow to give her a little lift for extraction without damage. SNAP! The dock line went as ‘Ole Blue surged forward. Undaunted, I continued to drive to the bodega where my good lines were stored and I grabbed my ¾” heavy duty nylon boat tow line. This time there was no way the line would snap. I once towed a 36’ Bertram with fuel in the bilge from Bimini to Ft. Lauderdale with the Morning Star using that same line. Making the yoke fast and short to the minnow, I was ready to pull her out.

With ‘Ole blue in second, I gradually accelerated to attempt to avoid spinning the tires. This should have been a simple “Jerk her outa’ the water and fix breakfast” operation. But Mr. Murphy had other plans. (The guy who wrote the Law.) I have tried to do everything within my power to insure all my karma was good. I must have messed up something because I quickly found ‘Ole Blue buried to his traction-lok axle spinning both tires, thoroughly high centered. Making matters worse, the tow line was so taught, it could not be released from the minnow forcing me to cut the first five deck boards from the Minnow to release ‘Ole Blue from the waterlogged anchor he had been securely tied to. Efficient use of my machete left the Siamese twins separated, but to no avail. It was now shovel time in the neighborhood with only one shoveler within 3 miles, at least.

Having dug two ceynotes around both rear wheels, they quickly filled just two inches below the bottom of ‘Ole Blue’s tires. Why I didn’t build ‘Ole Blue as a four wheel drive escapes me with great regret at that moment as I kicked sand screaming expletives deleted. I was concerned that I must have missed a day somewhere and it was actually Friday instead of Thursday the twelfth of September; thus giving rational meaning to my quandary. But, no such reason exists since tomorrow is definitely the thirteenth.

Peering at the mound of sand in the center of my truck, I had reservations of crawling under there to remove it. The way this day was going, I was certain I would be pinned under ‘Ole Blue until the vultures pulled me out piece by piece as they consumed all but my bones and “Ole Blue. Tan was absolutely no help as he managed to lie in the very spot I intended to dig every time I stopped digging. He now looked like a tan colored Chia pet before you put the seeds on from rolling in my two pits filled with coarse crushed coral sandy saltwater. I am not a man of anger, I am too old for that; but frustrated is a word that has yet to leave my vocabulary and I was seriously frustrated!

When I get frustrated, I have to quit whatever it is I am doing that frustrates me because, for some reason, things always go downhill from there if I continue. It was 1:00PM and I was covered with sand myself. I hadn’t had breakfast and was already in deep caca from all my efforts so far this day, I felt like it too. Grabbing my hose at the house a couple hundred meters away from my nemesis, the sun warmed black tanaka provided me with a very warm relaxing outdoor shower. You guessed it, no towel! Did you ever read the “Lil’ Abner” comic strips where there was a little guy with a dark cloud over his head everywhere he went? Could be me today.

A real indoor shower with soap and a towel, fresh shorts, socks and shoes; made me temporarily forget my troubles. A big glass of Pepsi, a small cup of Mango nectar, and a gigantic jug (32Oz-CoPalot) of agua con hielo re-hydrated me as my leftover chili simmered on the stove. I watched it intently because I knew that today, if I suffered from the least case of ADD, I would be eating blackened chili for sure. How’s that for PMA?

Fresh, clean and with a full stomach, I grabbed one of my Cuban cigars that I bought in Cancun from my freezer and my cup of hot coffee and went outside to relax under the shade of a coconut palm in one of Ms. Blue Chair’s new family I also bought in Cancun. It was now 2:30PM and I was already seriously late to run an errand for a friend that I had promised only yesterday with the distinct possibility of being totally unable to do it at all. Having already ground up nearly every piece of 4” thick bamboo, driftwood, pieces of cinder block, conch shells and anything else I found to put in my two holes under my tires as if I had the world’s largest stick processor, I concocted numerous scenarios including hiking to the naval base to try to get an unauthorized approval to use one of their big trucks. My VHF Cable was still in need of repair and today just wasn’t the day to consider climbing to the top of a 15 meter tower to check it out.

My only hope was to continue trying variations of the things I have been trying all day. I have a small 6 ton hydraulic bottle jack but even digging a hole under the bumper so it would fit and placing small boards under it only to drive both board and jack into the beach. Having built two ramps with the removed deck boards of the Minnow under each tire, I only succeeded in making huge clouds of blue smoke with my tires. I used the other deck board to pry on the bumper in a forward manner while both rear tires of ‘Ole Blue continued to spin. I imagined my success culminating with a chase of ‘Ole Blue toward Casa Azul should I get lucky.

I needed more stout wood. With my machete, the Minnow proved to be the unwilling donor of the additional materials I would need. All this crap as a result of my poor raft maintenance and now the Minnow no longer existed. With the remainder of the Minnow’s deck, I was able to build a fulcrum that raised the rear step bumper about 4” but trying to do anything else while standing on the long end of the fulcrum, was nearly impossible. I was unable to lift the waterlogged telephone pole sized pontoons to increase my height any.

I finally was able to bury one of the 2X6 deck boards 4” below the bumper, reposition the fulcrum, and kick the jack under the bumper while balancing on the fulcrum, bumper fully raised. I then gained the additional 8” of height needed to reposition the ramps directly under the raised tires. I was ready to try again when I noticed both tires on the right side of ‘Ole Blue were flat (Only on the bottom side.)

Grabbing my SCUBA tank and regulator, I managed to fill the rear tire but had to install one of my spares on the front right as it was off its bead. When I let the jack down, the truck’s rear tires appeared to finally be resting squarely on the ramps. The third member cleared the sand by almost ½“ and I decided to try to burn out of this hole as I was about a half hour away from darkness. Calling Tan, the wonder dog (I wonder why he has to sleep in front of an idling truck), into the truck cab, ‘Ole Blue miraculously launched like the light just turned green at the drag strip with a rooster tail of flying sand all the way to the road where I was certain he would retain his traction. Finally success! Leaving three large pools of water on the beach filled with splintered wood and the skeletal remains of the Minnow. She was a fine raft while she lasted.

I think I’ll borrow a quote from Mr. Henry Ford as today’s moral to the story:

“Whether you think you can, or think you can’t; you are absolutely right!”

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