Mañana doesn't mean tomorrow ..... it's just means not today! Updated Oct 2018

2014 Oct 7th, buoy headed our way

At sunrise, on October 7th 2014, I noticed a small green light blinking on the ocean just south of our house, flashing on and off at regular intervals.  

Well, that needs to be investigated. My camera has a decent lens, so I zoomed in for a better look; it was a huge marker buoy drifting free, and bobbing its way north towards our beach. 

2014 Oct 7th, buoy rolling across coral

Fifteen minutes later, it ran aground, tipped over, and ponderously rolled in the waves until it was stuck about twenty feet from shore. We emailed a friend who knew how to contact the naval base to advise them of the problem.  

A group of marinas (sailors) arrived, a non-commissioned officer and his crew, to check out the buoy.  

Then the sleek navy cutter arrived, cruising back and forth in the deep water on the other side of the reef, unable to hook a line on the buoy due to the increased size of the waves and the shallow water inside the reef. 

2014, waiting for a decision   

The weather turned foul, so we invited the guys to take shelter on our patio, offering them coffee and snacks while they waited for a decision from the higher-ups. 

The navy bosses were in communication with the harbour master, and two employees arrived mid-afternoon to check the situation.  

2014 Oct 7th, removing the valuable beacon

One lucky guy was designated to retrieve the valuable GPS beacon. The ocean is very warm in October, but dressed in protective gear, it was a bit of a struggle for him to wade into the thigh-deep water and remove the heavy beacon, still transmitting its location at 21 14.5 N and 86 44.1 W.  

It is a good thing the beacon was removed, or we could have had ships trying to take a position reading off our house.  We envisioned an unscheduled cruise ship visit, similar to the Costa Concordia that ran aground in Italy in 2012.

2014 October 7th, Marinas and Lynda

By noon, we were serving ham or chicken sandwiches to the onshore crew, complete with a choice of coffee or pop and chocolate chip cookies for dessert. It was a pretty good gig, hanging out with us while the jejes decide what to do with the marker buoy. Around three in the afternoon, the officer in charge flashed us a big, friendly smile and said that the weather had become too rough and the cutter couldn't pull the marker buoy back out to sea. 

2014 Oct 7th, Sparky on left, Tommy on right 

“We’ll come back mañana, or when the weather calms down,” he assured us. 

“Si, claro. Okay, no problem.”
  

Smiles and handshakes all around, and everyone departed: October 7^th 2014.  

Yep, four years ago last week, and we still have a huge piece of rusting scrap iron rolling around in our neighbourhood. 

2015 October 11th, still waiting for removal

Starting in 2014, I took annual photos of the life and times of the navigational buoy.

For the first few weeks, the air stank of rotting sea creatures, until our neighbours helpfully hired a young friend to scrape the dying barnacles and mussels from the exposed bottom.  

So how big is this thing?  It has a six-foot diameter, and without wading into the water with a tape measure to get the exact measurements, we think it is about fifteen to eighteen feet tall.  It’s big and it’s heavy.

October 2016, pointed straight at our casa. 

We had considered decorating it up for various holiday celebrations:  Halloween, Christmas, Valentine’s Day and Independence Day. 

We have had friends offer to paint it with cool designs. One graffiti 'artist' did add his tag, but thankfully, the weather removed the mess within a few weeks.

No one was allowed to remove, move it, or even consider cutting it up.  It is federal property, but the feds don’t want it, the navy doesn’t want it, and the harbour master doesn’t want it.  

2017 waves from Hurricane Irma 

The first week or two that the buoy was here, it moved around a bit, a little to the north, a little to the south, ever closer to shore until it is now half out of the water and stuck between two rocky outcroppings. 

Our biggest concern is not aesthetics, but safety. A big storm could turn it into a missile and shoot it straight at our house, knocking out walls and ripping down support columns. Or, conversely, it could be swept out to sea during a hurricane, becoming a dangerous navigational hazard, unlit, unmarked, and big enough to punch a hole in a large ship.

2017 waves, Hurricane Irma, Florida

We know it is not the fault of the folks who work for the navy or the harbour master. 

We have the greatest respect for them. They are willing and helpful. 

The decision came from higher up the pay-scale ladder. It was just not in the budget.  

2017 October TS Nate now at Punta Piedra

In September 2017, when Hurricane Irma turned away from us, towards Florida, we had several days of big waves. 

We watched with trepidation as the buoy pounded against the three-foot-high ridge of coral and sand protecting our house from the floating hunk of metal. 

At sundown, it was pointed like a missile right at our casa. When we checked again at sunrise, it had bounced over the rocks, moving north and stopping on the beach. 

2017 Oct, Amy, Punta Piedra, decorated

A short time later, Tropical Storm Nate moved the buoy a little further north to Punta Piedra's beach. 

Amy Canto decided to have fun with it, instead of obsessing over the unsightly hunk of metal. She made a 'man' by stuffing a pair of pants and a shirt with sargassum seaweed. His head was a round white fishing float, with a sombrero plopped on top.

Juan sat in an old beach chair inside the buoy with his bottle of tequila and a plastic Halloween pumpkin. He provided lots of chuckles for her guests, until another storm washed him away. I found pieces of Juan all along the beach: pants, a hat, and a head. Amy reassembled him, but the winter storms just wouldn't leave the poor guy alone. Eventually, he disappeared. 

2018 Oct 8th, moved during Hurricane Michael. 

Then, on October 7th 2018, the weather forecast predicted that Michael, a Category 1 Hurricane, would pass between Isla and Cuba. The worrying and wondering started again. Where would the damn buoy land this time? 

Fortunately for us, Hurricane Michael skidded past Isla Mujeres, doing very little damage, but it was a Category 5 by the time it battered the Florida panhandle. All we can do is hope everyone is safe, healthy, and only a little wet. 

The remnants of the navigational buoy are a tattered shell of the heavy structure that arrived four years ago, but it is still capable of floating. We currently have a disturbance forming just south of Mexico, and Tropical Storm Nadine in the mid-Atlantic. Hurricane season doesn't end until November 1st, and then we can breathe a sigh of relief. 

In the meantime, Mañana doesn’t mean tomorrow; it just means not today.

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Tropical Storm/Hurricane Nate – gave us a pass

Boarding up for TS Nate.  

Normally a bit of rough weather doesn’t bother us. We’re Canadian and have experienced snowy blizzards and drenching rainstorms. But I confess I’m not a fan of tropical storms teetering on the edge of being classified as a hurricane.

I don’t mind wind, but I really don’t like the high velocity winds of a tormenta. Sadly, though, when this recent storm, TS Nate, blasted over the mountainous countries of Costa Rica and Nicaragua, it was the excessive rainfall that caused the deaths of twenty-two people.

Since we live at the edge of the ocean and TS Nate was forecast to pass directly over this flat, little sandbar of an island, we obsessively clicked on the NOAA site and several internet weather channels, checking predicted rainfall, storm surge, and wind speeds.

On Wednesday, it was clear we were going to get hit.

By Thursday morning, we had dragged everything inside our little casa: two sun loungers, a small sofa and two chairs, glass-topped tables, stacks of big cushions for the two larger sofas, and anything small enough to become an airborne hazard. 

We tied down garden hoses to prevent them from whipping around in the wind, and pushed plant pots into tight huddles. 

I made up a couple of dozen sandbags to block the rain from entering under our doors, especially our bedroom door, which has an outside entrance onto an open deck.

New house a bit north of ours is boarded up.

We had extra bottles of water, gas in the golf cart, easy-to-prepare food for us and the pets, and cash in case the power was off for a few days, making ATM’s useless. (By now, we are feeling like the characters in the novel that I am writing, Tormenta Isla, who had to do all the same prep work!)

Then, exactly as our friends Tony Garcia and Isauro Martinez described, many boat owners prepared for the storm/hurricane by moving their vessels deep into Laguna Makax. The Caribe line of passenger boats from Cozumel brought their three good-sized vessels to Isla and docked them at the municipal wharf next to the car ferry. Presumably, that dock is more sheltered than the ones at Cozumel. Even the car ferry and the Ultramar passenger ferries shut down early.

Caribe Ferry, normally located in Cozumel

It was an eerie feeling driving along the island’s shoreline, which normally bustles with boats, islanders, and tourists. Every public or private wharf from Velasquez Restaurante, near the north end of the island, to the car ferry was empty, and all of the oceanfront restaurants were closed. Every tour, pleasure, or work boat had been moved to Laguna Makax, or dragged high up on the beach and securely tied to nearby palm trees.

Hotel shuttered on the main floor

Many businesses were closed so that their staff would be safe at home before the Friday afternoon arrival of the storm. Doors and windows were covered by pieces of wood or cortinas, the accordion-style hurricane shutters.

A light rain damped the streets, and we decided it was time to hunker down with our pets and a good bottle of wine. We read. We sipped wine. We waited, and we checked the internet. The predicted rainfall was for around 95mm or 4 inches, although TS Nate had dumped 510 mm or about 20 inches of rain on Central America. The wind speed was predicted to reach a Category 1 Hurricane of 120 kilometers per hour, about 74 miles an hour.

Wharf at Bally Hoo, empty, restaurant closed.

The afternoon turned into evening, and still no rain or wind. 

Then, remarkably, we fell asleep for two hours. I usually lie awake during storms listening to the sounds of the house: the rattle of the screen on our windows, the creak of the patio doors as the wind pushes against them, and the banging of something not tightly secured.

At ten in the evening, both Lawrie and I woke up to silence. No wind. No rain. Nothing. We checked the internet. The storm, now Hurricane Nate, had moved about ten miles east, closer to Cuba. It had passed by us. That was a big relief to everyone. Facebook pages were soon littered with jokes about the overreaction and the huge amount of prep work for a non-event.

M&J's buttoned up for TS Nate

But as one of our friends said:

“They just don’t understand what it feels like to lose everything and not have insurance. To have your only vehicle damaged, whether it was a moto or an old car, it was still your only transportation. To worry about the lives of your family, your friends, and yourself. To step out of your home and see the damage done to your community and know that it could be days or weeks before everything is back to some type of normal. In the meantime, people scramble to make a living and to feed their children. It’s difficult, very difficult. So what if we over-prepared? Better that than homeless.”

We’d happily do the same preparations again, especially if it works as a lucky charm and keeps the tormenta away. 

Although it seems that when our nearby neighbours, Rob and Julie Goth, board over their small windows, the ones without the cortinas, we are guaranteed to get a pass from the hurricane.

We’re back to sunny and hot weather and waiting on the return of our various Canadian, American, and European neighbours for the busy October to April social season. There goes the diet!

Cheers from paradise

Lynda, Lawrie, Sparky, and Max

 ~

Tormenta Isla Book #3

 Isla Mujeres Mystery Series

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Sweating for fun, sweating for work – it’s a matter of perspective

Early morning joggers can enjoy this view

In the early mornings, right around sunrise until an hour after, the roadways along the Caribbean side of the island are littered with people. People walking. People running. People cycling.  Some are exercising for health, others are using their feet or bicycles to get to their jobs.

Groups of joggers are scattered along the route: three women, a man, two women, and several solo guys pound along the roadways, dodging stray dogs and potholes. Decked out in the latest brightly coloured athletic gear, including leggings, tank tops, hoodies, and footwear, these folks are serious about their fitness routine. Their large iPhones or equivalent smartphones are strapped to a bicep, earbuds jammed into their ears, and music pounding out the beat as they run along the outer perimeter road to Punta Sur and back.

Bike riders in Centro

Four youngsters sharing two single-gear bicycles, each with a passenger balanced on the foot pegs poking out from the rear axle of the bike, slowly grind southwards, headed to one of the numerous construction sites near Punta Sur. The rider stands straight and still, with hands resting on the peddler’s shoulders. It’s a way of getting to and from their manual-labor jobs. It’s hard to know which part of this duo works the hardest. The one peddling the bike. Or the one balanced on round metal pegs. As kids, we did the same thing, but the goal was to get to the playground quicker, not to arrive at work six days a week by eight in the morning.

Ab exercises at work

A group of construction workers, in their twenties, trudge southwards towards their job wearing jeans, battered t-shirts, and sometimes runners, but more often than not, cheap disposable sandals. 

They have a measured pace, arriving at the job for the eight o’clock start time. They will labor until sundown, and frequently later. It’s not uncommon to see workers toiling under inadequate lighting until late in the evening.

Ab exercises on the beach

Vehicles, golf carts, and motos are beginning to appear on the roadways as parents make the frantic dash to school. If the child doesn’t arrive before the gates are locked, then the parent is stuck with sorting out childminding problems for the day.

Our friend, Yaron, pushes past on his multi-speed bike, his muscular legs churning like pistons. He zooms up and down this road from first light until he finishes his routine number of laps, or time. His fitness level is impressive. He lifts the fingers of his left hand in a half-wave and smiles while fiercely concentrating on the bumps and challenges of the local road. Hitting a pothole or rock while piloting a skinny-tired bicycle can result in flying lessons for the rider.

Early morning biker rider - selling tortillas

The dog walkers generally have a more leisurely pace while the dogs sniff, pee, sniff, pee, and repeat. A few walkers, such as Ana, have big dogs that set a faster pace. She almost jogs to keep up with her exercise mates. 

We routinely run across Melissa and Issy, out for their morning constitutional. And Carol’s seventeen-year-old Alfie is blind but knows his way along the sidewalks and pathways. 

Our Sparky likes to visit with him, but Alfie prefers his solitude instead of an inquisitive wet nose investigating his private areas.

2011, the Navy groups use smaller trucks now

A squad of Marinas from the naval infantry is on an early morning circumnavigation of the island. Riding in a grey truck, they smile and waggle a couple of fingers in greeting, trying to look seriously bad-ass in their combat gear while grinning a hello.

An hour after sunrise, the road is nearly empty. Even though it is now a week into December, the daytime temperature is hitting 30 degrees Celsius, or mid-eighties Fahrenheit.

It’s time to find a shady spot.

We are waiting for our trees to grow this tall

Hasta Luego

Lynda, Lawrie, Sparky, and Thomas

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Missing! Five Islanders and the Anastacia

Anastacia before it went missing.  Isla Fiesta 

They are husbands and fathers, brothers and sons, uncles and nephews, cousins and friends, and they are missing. 

On Wednesday, March 30th, five friends left Isla Mujeres on a 32-foot boat, the Anastacia. They were headed toward Cozumel to fish for sharks. 

They have not been heard from since.

Waiting for news

At the fishing coop where the Anastacia berths, the families wait, faces pinched by worry and love, seeking comfort from each other.  

Eyes brim with tears that quickly spill with the arrival of more friends, affectionate hugs, and soft words of solace. An upset child, picking up the unsettled mood, tugs at the sleeve of his mother, plaintively asking: When is papi coming home? 

But each new day is a morning filled with hope and optimism. “Today is the day we will find them!” 

The search coordinating committee is made up of many islanders including Jorge Fernando De La O Pino papa to Jorge De La O, the captain of the Anastacia.  

Javi, Marla, Jorge Sr., and Jill

Other members are Marcelo Cupul Ku, Rogelio Digurnay Perez, Marcelino Cupul Avalos, Javier Martinez Cen, Marla Bainbridge Martinez, Wilberth Ancona Argaez, Julio Sosa Chuc, and Thelmo Burgos Uc. Jill Hardekopf is also helping out with her American contacts.  

Most of the committee members have taken a leave of absence from their businesses, allowing them to devote time to finding their family members. In the case of Jorge Sr., the opening for his new restaurant has been delayed indefinitely.  Javier Martinez Cen (Javi) and Jorge Jr. have been as close as cousins since birth. For him, and all of the other families, this search is intensely personal.

Currents Mexico, Cuba, US

The search grids are based on suggestions from highly qualified experts from around the world and experienced members of the community, fishermen, captains, and mates who know the currents and wind patterns. From early morning to late at night, coordinators make phone calls to authorities seeking assistance, asking permission, planning for the next day’s search grid, raising money to pay for the massive amounts of fuel required, and answering hundreds of emails and Facebook posts.  

All through the day, optimistic words of hope are spoken.  Never give up!  We will find them. Each sunset is the beginning of a night filled with very little and restless sleep, exhausted brains spinning with questions. Where are they?  Are they okay?  What can we do next? Where should the search focus tomorrow?

Huachisan III crew searching in Cuban waters

Deline García Canto talks with pride about how his papa, Juan de Dios García Povedano (Huacha) and crew aboard the Huachisan III have been given permission to search in Cuban waters.  

They are tired, worried, and a long way from home, but still searching for their friends. The Mexican government has initiated the request for assistance from the U.S. Coast Guard and is still waiting for the reply.  

Also out searching

The navy, the harbor master, and the UltraMar passenger ferry have all assisted. Mexico News Daily, with a readership of 20,000 expats, carried the story a few days ago, as did a TV station in Houston because Jorge De La O lives there part of the year.  A GoFundMe campaign has raised thousands of dollars to assist with the cost of fuel for the search boats; more is needed.  

Locals and expats have come together to provide basic needs for the five families, waiting without a source of income, for the return of their husbands and fathers.  The search committee is working remotely with the specialized, volunteer Search & Rescue team from the USA.  Their arrival has been delayed, awaiting documentation.

Isla Mujeres is a strongly knit community of locals and foreigners, all pulling together to bring the five men home safely, hopefully with an interesting adventure story to tell their children. But the social media network is slowly picking at the threads of the community, bit by bit, picking and unraveling the fabric of the island.  

Social media is a curse and a blessing. It is an instant form of communication. And an instant form of condemnation and criticism.  Why didn’t they do this?  Why don’t they do that?  I could do this better. Not taking into account the tangled regulations involved with three separate countries, Mexico, the USA, and Cuba, which haven’t had a diplomatic relationship with the USA from 1960 until just this year. Permissions are required to cross, enter, or fly over airspace and oceans.  

And not taking into account the personal toll on the families, as each new rumor is bandied about as “the truth” while family members are left to wonder: Why wasn’t I told?  I am sitting right here five feet away from the coordinators.  Why didn’t they tell me my son was okay?  

And then it’s revealed to not be the truth, but just a fast-moving rumor spreading like wildfire through the internet, searing the hearts of those waiting for news.

Dawn of another day of hope!

Maybe today is the day that they will find them!  

Be strong, stick together, and work toward a common goal. It’s what makes Isla Mujeres such a special place in a complex world.

Hasta Luego

Lynda, Lawrie, Sparky

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