We were warned ahead of time that going through immigration and the port captain would take hours with the volume of boats in the fleet. And because of the delay, we arrived on a Friday and both offices were not open on the weekends. So we quickly set anchor, lowered the dinghy and the four of us sped off to the dingy dock to catch a cab to immigration. Hurry up, hurry up, then wait three hours while they process your papers. Then catch a cab to the port captain, stand in line to submit papers, walk two blocks down and four blocks over to the bank to pay your port fees, walk quickly back to the port captains office because he is closing in 40 minutes, submit receipt for port fees, and wait while they complete your papers. Over four hours later we are checked in and worried that Sereno II had dragged anchor since we literally left her 15 minutes after setting anchor. So while our crew set out for lunch, Gary and I hiked back to the boat to make sure she was still where we left her. She was and now it was Corona time!
The following is Gary’s tale of the Baha Ha Ha after rally party.
The party at Squid Roe started at 8:00 pm the day we arrived in Cabo. After night watches and the crazy day with Immigration I was ready to tell the crew to go without me, but pull up my boot straps I did. We jumped in the dinghy and off we went into the dark inviting Cabo night.
Squid Roe Restaurant and Night Club is a funky 3 story unfinished ramshackle kind of place. The kind of place you could get lost or found in. As we walked in, who knew we were entering Hells playground. Beers were flying around the room like drones in Pakistan along with rum drinks and tequila jello shooters. Yes college kids were putting tequila in my jello and I loved it. I was drinking it down like some south of the border demented Witches brew. The throbbing ear piercing beat from the DJ’s 70’s, 80’s, and 90’s baby boomer sound track sent Yachties into a hot sweat lathered frenzy driving the conga line into the streets of Cabo and back into the loins of ‘Squid Roe’.
We were born again. The same age as we left but some how just a little bit younger I suspect. We had survived the Baja peninsula, a threatening hurricane and even the Mexican Immigration office. We were unbridled and bound for a good time. And if there is one thing that Yachties know how to do it is… have a good time.
I was so happy for strapping on those boots.