So I'm delivering a boat - Cheetah, a 68' vintage sled - back to L.A. after the Cabo Race. We're about 15 miles south of the US border heading for San Diego to clear customs. It's 2AM, foggy
and pitch black. Because the wind is on the nose and light, we're motoring with the main up. The other two guys aboard are below asleep.

Suddenly, the boat's lit up like day. "What the..." I exclaim as I look over my shoulder to see some asshole is shining what seems like a nine million candlepower spotlight in my face. I thump the
deck to try to wake the others but nobody wakes up. I put on the auto helm and head below. We've got a mega spotlight on board and I was going to shine it back at these dudes as a big f-
you. After Gimmy awakes, I head back on deck as he checks to see if anyone's hailing us. They are…in Spanish.

I sit back at the helm and, this time, the boat with the light comes right along side close enough
that I can see six dudes with machine guns and a dude on a .50 cal. And they're pointed at me!
“This is not going well.” I say to myself. By then, they've communicated in broken English that
they want to board and inspect us. Brilliant! It’s dark as hell and rough. Perfect time to hassle an
American pleasure boat with limited mobility.

As they come along side to try to transfer two guys aboard Cheetah, it becomes obvious that
these guys know very little about boat handling. As they tried to maneuver close to us in the
lumpy, confused seas I made it clear that they would pay dearly if they dinged our boat. After
several tries, they got two guys aboard. By now, we were head to wind and I was sailing
backward. I told Gimmy to keep his head down and did backward ess-turns trying to tag the
Mexicans with the boom. When to boom almost took them both out, they looked at me as if I was
doing it deliberately – I was. I put up my hands, shrugged and said, “No control, sorry”.

They spent over an hour going through the boat and checking our papers. Gimmy offered them
espresso, which they gladly accepted. Then they pointed to a bag of cookies that they also
wanted – the whole bag! While we were all below, I popped up to check things out on deck just in
time to see a large fishing boat cross our bow. It was just sheer luck that we didn’t end up as
catch of the day. These morons didn’t even have to nautical acumen to know that crossing
behind a fishing boat at night is…well…a great way to win a Darwin award.

Finally, the Mexicans were satisfied and it was time to leave. But it had gotten even lumpier while
we were being inspected. Transferring them back to their gunboat was going to be a stunt. I tried
to help the first dude off. I held his arm and told him to put his feet outside the lifelines and then
step over to his boat. But he wouldn’t. He tried to stand on top of the lifelines and lost his
balance. I kept him from falling between the boats and pulled him back aboard. In the process,
he dropped his machine gun on the deck. I could have grabbed the gun but then, I’d have a
Mexican soldier in one hand, his gun in the other and a guy with a .50 cal aimed at me. Bad idea.
So I watched the gun slide over the side and sink.

As his weapon disappeared beneath the waves, my Mexican friend looked at me as if I was going
to do something. “Sorry dude” I said, “it’s gone”. The look on his face was one of shock and fear.
I imagine job security was about to become a big issue with him. I finally got him aboard the
gunboat and he just stood there on deck looking into the ocean as if, through some miracle,
Poseidon himself was going to emerge from the depths and return the estranged weapon. Sadly
it never materialized. Even though he dropped his gun, he did manage to hang on to the bag of
cookies.

Then it was the next guy’s turn to jump. And, like his buddy, he tried to stand on the lifelines
and almost fell between the boats. I dragged him back on deck. By now, I was tired, wet, cold and
pissed off. So I picked up my little Latin buddy and threw him through the air onto the deck of
his boat. Aboard Cheetah, John and Gimmy’s jaws dropped. I mean, I really threw this dude. The
Mexicans all thanked me for saving their asses and then they sped off. I’m guessing that they
curtailed boardings for the remainder of the evening. I’m thinking that they’ve got a little more
respect for Canadians too.

After they left, John and Gimmy looked at me and said, “Dude, you’ve got to send this one into
SA.” So here it is.

Cheers!

Bedford

Footnote:T he US Coastguard radioed us on our final approach to San Diego. It was a routine check but not a boarding. They were officious and serious as we gave them the names of the people aboard and the boat’s registration number. That is until I recounted the story of the Mexicans. After that, they were laughing so hard, they could hardly reply. Got any comments on this or perhaps a cruising in Mexico story? Pop in our Cruising Anarchy forum and have some fun.

Photo by Steve Washburn