nautically neurotic

A few postings ago it was explained that at the current location, next to the Pacific Ocean in the south of the peninsula Baja California in Mexico, no boat ever could be spotted sailing by.

Writing this down was like confirming officially a fact concluded in the consciousness.

Many times each day the ocean comes into the view.
Like while writing on the computer: from the wide window of the Fuso Szulc most of the Pacific Ocean can be seen.
And now, that it is official, each time when seeing the Pacific Ocean, the thought comes to mind that no boat can be seen.



But another thought connects to it.
Unwanted and undesired but it is there every time.
It is the thought that maybe this time it will be different.
That magically or accidentally and by surprise a boat happens to pass by anyway and in spite of everything.
It is even imagined how the response will be: a high jump in the air.
A loud scream of victory, relief and exaltation:

A BOAT !!! A BOAT !!!

And immediately a run for the camera to photograph the sign of nautical life, as it would be a good subject for the next day posting.
To be able to report to the fervent and loyal readers that never a boat passes by except this time.

This conclusion no boat traffic can be seen from here has resulted in an almost Robinson Crusoë obsession.
Or Tom Hanks’ in the film “Cast away”.
The strong desire to want to see a boat.



If once in a while a boat would pass by, there would be peace and harmony.
Nothing to think about.
A simple, logic and natural fact.
Look, a boat!
OK, a boat.
One of the boats that pass by.

But never ever a boat is unacceptable.
Frustrating.
Unbearable.

Can’t someone not sail by, please?
Just to break this obsession...
Thank you.




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She is a captain of a boat.

When working in the office of the Fuso Szulc a large window offers a generous view.
As the expedition vehicle is parked on a north-south axis the view enjoyed is of the Pacific Ocean.



What has been noticed over the last weeks is that never a boat has been spotted.



A simple-minded person would think that some coastal boat traffic would pass by.

Any boat coming from Central and South America and heading for the USA and Canada, is supposed to pass by here.
And vice-versa.



Or one would think that sailing boats would come by taking advantage of the calmer seas and winds this time of year.
To go to the Panama Canal or the Sea of Cortez.

But never a boat has been seen.
Even not with the binoculars.



This gives a kind of Robinson Crusoë feeling.
The protagonist in Daniel Defoe’s famous story who shipwrecked on some island and waited for years to see a boat.
In the presence of a regional inhabitant he called Friday and ruthlessly colonised psychologically.

There is no Friday at “Estero del Tomate”, except on Friday, but similar to Robinson Crusoë only an empty horizon fills the eyes.

It would be nice to see a ship.
And to have the thoughts travel to the bridge where a mature mate steers straight ahead.
While the cook prepares the lunch and the captain has a nap.
But on the after-deck is a sailor weeping for his love too far away.

What is the reason that never a boat can be spotted from here?

It is simple.
When we look at the map of Baja California, we see that boats pass in a straight line between basically the south tip of the peninsula, Cabo San Lucas, and Puerto Magdalena in the north.
However, the coastline of Baja California is not in a straight line.
It is like a half moon.
Bending to the East.



Boats do not travel necessarily along the coast.
They calculate the shortest route to have the maximum benefit of time and fuel consumption.
Hence, they go in a straight line along the southern Baja coast and pass by “Estero del Tomate” at a distance of at least 50 miles (80 kilometres).
Too far away to be seen.

But they can be imagined.
There is the logical awareness that boats, although invisible, do pass by.

While the captain on the boat has no idea who thinks of her 50 miles away.



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