FIESTA AFLOAT

I could smell it in the air; there was a tangible, noticeable difference in the atmosphere and I could not contain the joy that was bubbling up inside me. Night after night I had been trapped in Gore-Tex, confined to the cockpit and the shelter that the dodger provided from sea spray, cold dew, and scattered showers. After over two weeks of living in my foul-weather gear, it emanated an odour even I could detect. Rounding this cape was different: instead of making our way through confused seas and accelerated winds only to find more cool Pacific Ocean, my face was met with a new wind. A warm, dare I say tropical breeze now filled our sails and I was finally able to shed my fleece.

, our Tayana Vancouver 42, was slowly drifting down the Pacific coast of Baja Mexico. This last cape, Cabo Falso, brought us within 10km of our