His solution was one part genius, one part madness, and completely outside the bounds of what most travelers would consider a rational response to the situation. And so, of course, it worked out beautifully.
First, the problem: Senor Goodman had exactly half the money for the ticket in hand. This would do him no good, because it wouldn�t get him even halfway to Ensenada� and if it did he would still be stuck hundreds of miles from his destination and he would still be broke. Hitchhiking was categorically out. Mexico City isn�t some out-of-the-way where the people are friendly and rides are easy to come by. Oh no. This particular metropolis is famed worldwide as a den of danger. People routinely disappear from the streets even in the affluent areas. It is possible that he could have contacted someone at home to wire the necessary funds, but he was unable to reach anyone and time was rapidly running out � if he waited too long he might miss the boat.
The solution: Eric found himself a hostel and made himself a sign. The hostel offered a bed, food, and free internet service, all for the low-low price of twenty dollars a night. Thus he would have three days to make something happen. Herein came the sign. It read:
POR FAVOR
AYUDAME !
PLEASE HELP !
NECESITO DINERO
PARA LLEGAR A
SAN DIEGO
I NEED TO GET TO THE US
ME ROBARON
GRACIAS A DIOS
THANKS TO GOD
AND YOU!
100 PESOS MAS !
Each day Eric would pick a spot on a likely street corner. After his three nights at the hostel were up he had acquired enough dinero to fund his travel, plus a little extra for food along the way. He made it to Ensenada two days before we did.
Thinking that his ship would be in, Eric proceeded directly to Ensenada�s big marina, Baja Naval, and pounded the docks looking for us. Finding that we were nowhere to be found he called Stacy.
Stacy had originally planned to hook up with us further south, Costa Rica or El Salvador being her favorite options. Circumstances during the time Faith had traversed those Central American waters, however, had prevented her from making the trip. As Brian, Eric (Saunders) and I splashed our way up the Mexican coast she came to the sudden realization that if she was going to set foot on the boat while it was still in foreign waters she�d have to hustle. Accordingly, she flew down to San Diego four days before our posted itinerary said we�d get there (so far we�d managed to remain four days ahead of schedule). Her idea was to drive down Baja with Steve � San Diego resident and Stacy�s best friend � get dropped off on a beach we�d be passing and paddle out to us on her surfboard. Unfortunately, the dearth of communications along the Baja run prevented us from coordinating exactly which beach we might find each other on�.and so she holed up San Diego, awaiting word.
When it came the voice was Eric�s: �Stacy, get down here! They�re not here yet and I�m stranded!� Several hours later my two friends were in a hotel across the street from Baja Naval.
I handed Eric the mini rum bottle and got up off the floor of the hotel room just across the street from Baja Naval to wrap both of them in a giant hug. �May I use your shower?� I asked. �PLEASE,� they responded in unison.
A very clean and much sweeter smelling Captain led his contingent of conscripts down the dock to the mooring where Faith was tied up. Stacy and Eric (hereafter referred to as �The Reverend� � a high school nickname�don�t ask�) stepped into the cockpit for introduction to the Navigator. �Hi,� said Brian. The Ship�s Cook climbed out of bed for the greetings (he�d met both parties back in Montana). Thus united we laid out the game plan for the day.
�Doni should be here this afternoon,� Brian informed us, �We�re probably going to get a hotel room��
�Oh, perfect!� Stacy exclaimed, �The one we stayed at across the street is reasonable.�
�Nice,� replied Brian, �that would be perfect.�
�I�m going to swing over to the Capitania,� I said, �I thought maybe these guys would want to come with? I think they know where it is,� Stacy and The Reverend nodded in unison. They�d already scouted it out two days before, pestering the officials about whether a vessel matching our description had put in. �Then we�ll try to find some wood for the rudder rebuild,� I arched my eyebrows speculatively, �Any idea where the lumberyards are?�
�No,� Stacy responded, �but we can find them. I mean, there must be a few around.�
Well, we would find out.