The first order of business in the morning was taking care of the paperwork at the Capitania. This took three hours and, surprisingly, cost some money. Despite a law passed in June entailing the payment of one fee upon entry into Mexican waters it seems the southern ports still require individual payments. Perhaps it takes time for the seeds of legal influence to get their roots spread out equally across this country.... At any rate I don't like to argue with the highest authority in the land (or sea, as it were) in any country where you're guilty until proven innocent, especially with no personal recourse to defense attorney.... I got the proper documents of safe passage and the vital weather report and fled back to AYC.
Investigating the rumors of free internet, I went up to the aforementioned patio and found a plush big screen TV room with a single computer (new). At the computer a man was checking his email. I asked him what the protocol for use was. "I'll be off in a few minutes," he said, "then it's all yours." We got to talking and he introduced himself as Ricardo � "but call me Tato." He is the grandson of one of the founders of AYC, a friend to sailors, and fascinated by our story. We agreed that I'd bring the crew up to his pad in the next door apartment building that evening around six. "I'll show you the best in Acapulco!" he said with a wide grin.
I spent the remainder of the afternoon updating the website, checking emails (rats, nothing from Erin! Aha! It looked like several friends would be meeting up with us in Cabo!), and looking over weather sites such as the NOAA (National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Agency) forecasts for the Eastern Pacific. It appeared from all the data that a tropical wave was passing over the region we inhabited as I checked making departure on the morrow a very good idea.
Brian returned, having seen Doni off to the airport. I missed seeing my future sister-in-law but she'd delivered presents for us: several movies and some sailing music, extra AA batteries, kelp sushi wraps, and some snacks. Brian wore a ridiculous grin for days.
We headed over to Ricardo's place just after six. He lives in a beautiful two story apartment with a harbor view from the second floor veranda, where he likes to entertain in the evenings. It turns out he works as a documentary film maker, which gave us a great deal to talk about, particularly Brian. Ricardo and Brian compared notes, talked shop and traded industry stories. Then Ricardo sprang a great surprise on us: Wouldn't we love to go see the famed Cliff Divers of Acapulco? We most assuredly would! Our concierge chauffeured to the site. Just north of the city are walls of rock over a hundred feet high with narrow clefts between jutting cliffs. The surf rolls into the restricting confines to erupt against the far walls with a violence that literally shakes the surrounding terrain. Into this chasm dive the brave souls � but only after they've confessed their sins and made obeisance before shrines to the Blessed Virgin of Guadalupe and Jesus. Thus prepared for departure from the Earth � in more ways than one! � they gage the incoming swells so as to strike the water at its highest. Missing the timing means possible death or maiming since the depth is just a bit too shallow for jumping without a little extra cushion below.
Across from the cliff the divers use is another steep faced outcrop. The top is a good deal lower than the diving wall and very broad. Here the spectators gather for the viewing. There is a charge but we never found out what it was � Ricardo recently took documentary footage of the event and knew everyone involved, divers included. We were ushered in behind him and set free to find the best possible spot to watch from. There is a rail around the flat, paved ledge directly across from the divers' jumping-off points. Its main function seems to be to provide a solid handhold for all the spectators who climb over it to sit on the slanting rocks hanging over the gorge. We joined them and got the best possible view � floodlights streaming from hidden nooks illuminated the opposite wall and lit the rolling waves far beneath us. Brian and I got a particularly good idea of what the dive must be like when I slipped while coming up behind the spot were he was seated near the edge. I went to my knees, twisted sideways, and came to a halt at his back. Just a bit more pressure and he'd have been dislodged, the both of us cascading into the pit and the roiling waters at its bottom. Well, as he pointed out, we'd have probably hit a lot of the boulders on the way down first....
The divers themselves used this route (although they opted to climb spider-like rather than fall pell-mell) to get to their cliff. They made their way through the crowd � eyes tightly focused, brows knit, muscles fluid � go over the rail and down the sloping rocks to swim the breadth of the abyss. Watching them ascending the opposite rock face gave the watchers a real sense of the scale involved. It took many long minutes for the highest climbers to get into position. We could appreciate the necessity of their devotions when they reached the shrine...
So it was that with high excitement and extreme trepidation that we watched seven lean, chiseled men in skimpy Speedos kneel and pray, count the seconds between the waves.... and launch from an absurd height in a beautiful swan dive arc calculated to clear the rocks below! � and disappear in a sparkling geyser at the crest of the swell!! They would reappear triumphantly, wave to the cheering crowd above, and swim like mad before they were swept into the crevice at the back of the cleft. The survivors proceeded to climb back up to the throng of devotees waiting to congratulate their astonishing escape from certain destruction. All of them stopped to talk to our friend and guide.
After the show Ricardo took us to "the best tacos in Acapulco!" which, it turns out, is an Asian taco place serving shredded beef tacos to order. Eric, our Ship's Cook, was particularly impressed by the chef doing the cutting on the spinning hunk of meat. Adroitly handling an extremely sharp knife, the expert flayer would shave off thin strips of beef, flick his wrist around bringing the blade above his head to carve a perfect slice from the pineapple twirling on top of the rotating flesh, and catch the slim flake in a pan. Cooked together the resultant taste of juicy beef and sugary pineapple were a delicacy.
Our gracious host offered us the accommodation of his loft for the night. We were happy to accept and slept soundly, happily, and stably (without the annoyance of being jolted about our bunks once a minute!) In the morning the mates went to do the replenishing of our culinary supplies. I slept in a little later (sometimes it's good to be the Captain). I'd planned to do some more internet work but got sidetracked with Ricardo's three kids. I was chased, shot, tackled and otherwise abused, to my great pleasure. I switched on the computer to show the family pictures from our trip so far (I'll upload some of them soon, I promise!). The kids liked the ones where we're wearing silly faces the best. The master of the house and I sat on the veranda afterwards discussing the state of Acapulco. It was changing, Ricardo felt, and not for the better. "This place doesn't feel as real anymore," he explained, "it's getting to be glitzier, but without anything there....it's like Acapulco Gold � it used to be something but now it's just a name. You can't find it anymore." Sure you can, Ricardo. You and your family are it!
When Cook and Navigator returned we all went to the restaurant for lunch while the children swam in the pool. At 5 pm it was time to leave (despite the entreaties of our friend, "Stay until tomorrow! It's Friday....if you thought last night was fun you should see this place tonight!"), and we wished each other well, promised to write, and gave hugs all around. I made a present of our copy of Pirates of the Caribbean to the family. Ricardo since tells me he's awoken every morning to the clash of swords, bursts of cannon fire, and the speech of brigands. Apparently it was a hit. Waving behind us, we moved to the gas dock, filled our jerry jugs, and set out on the high seas once again. Avast! Arrrrrr!!!