La Paz
24º 09.561 N, 110º 19.607 W
Friday, November 18, 2022
The End of a Chapter, Not the Story: La Paz
We departed Isla San Francisco before daybreak, hoping to catch the tide right for a smooth ride down the channel. The Sea of Cortez greeted us with a moderate breeze out of the north, letting Thaalia slice through the water at a good 5 to 6 knots. We cast our hand lines, and Soon enough, we could see the outline of La Paz, the city lights twinkling even in daylight—a sign of the bustling world we’d left behind months earlier.
Sailing into La Paz felt like coming full circle. We made it in just two weeks from BLA!! That’s crazy fast in cruising world. Thankfully we made it back in time to spend time with our friend before he had to fly up to the States for medical care.
We entered the marked channel leading to La Paz anchorage, and I felt a swirl of emotions: nostalgia for the early days of our trip, excitement to reconnect with friends, and a twinge of sadness that this grand loop was nearing its close. The water traffic picked up, too—fishing boats, pangas, ferries, and pleasure boats. George stood at the bow, checking for any last-minute hazards, while I was at the helm navigating our way down the channel. When we found a free spot among the many boats in La Paz Bay, we executed our well-practiced anchor dance. It felt almost surreal, performing this familiar routine in a place so jam-packed with memories of when we first set out. Once Thaalia was secure, we clicked off the engine and exchanged the widest grins. Of course, we reached for our “rum and yellow shit”— a final toast to the months we spent roaming the Sea of Cortez. We were down to a random bottle of yellow juice, which tasted oddly sweet, but tradition is tradition.
The La Paz waterfront bustled, a vivid contrast to the deserted coves we’d visited lately. Music from the Malecón drifted over the water. I could see the swirl of people strolling by, children laughing at bubble vendors, couples gazing at the sunset. The city’s energy pulsated, reminding me how quickly we adapt to quiet anchorages, and how jarring it can be to return to an urban space.
Still, La Paz holds fond memories for us—George and I have spent many days here over the years. It’s the hub of cruising in southern Baja, with a tight-knit community of sailors from all over the world. As George used to say, best cruising ghetto ever. By sunset, the bay lit up with anchor lights and the glow of the city skyline. We sat in the cockpit, listening to the faint bustle of cars on the malecón. I found myself flipping through mental snapshots of the entire journey: from my birthday in September, to the chubascos that rattled us awake, from the wonders of Mitlan and everything in between. Each anchorage contributed a unique chapter to our story.
Now, here we were, gently rocking in the heart of La Paz once again, sipping on a final rum cocktail. The months we’d spent in the Sea of Cortez had flown by in a swirl of sunshine and saltwater, but they’d also felt incredibly full—like we’d lived a lifetime of experiences in one cruising season. Every time I close my eyes, I can conjure up the color of the water at Honeymoon Cove, the crunch of volcanic gravel under my shoes at Volcán Coronado, or the tang of fresh dorado sizzling on our grill.
Tomorrow, we’ll tackle chores, maybe meet up with old cruiser friends who stay in La Paz year-round, or track down Sam and Jess to hear about their last few anchorages. Word travels fast over the VHF net; you can never be sure who’s in town until you send out a hail. After our journey, Thaalia could use a good cleaning, plus an oil change and some minor fixes… but there’s tomorrow. That’s the reality of cruising—periods of blissful exploration followed by sessions of upkeep and rest.
I’m not sure what the next months will bring. Maybe we’ll head across to the mainland side, or perhaps we’ll remain in Baja, chasing the last of the warm weather. No doubt each new anchorage will add another layer to this endless tapestry of sea life. But for now, George and I can bask in the sense of completion that comes with returning to La Paz, the place where our summer odyssey began.
With our anchor firmly set, the hum of the city around us, and a mind full of memories, we close this chapter of our Sea of Cortez journey. Even though the trip may be winding down, the story feels far from over. Adventure, after all, thrives in these waters, ready to unfold at the next drop of the anchor. And I can’t wait to see what the future holds for Thaalia, for George, and for me.