“Nobody told me that Mexico was so big!” I joked with my sister and friends over FaceTime. “It’s so long!”

I had just done the math. We move at an average 5.5 nautical miles per hour, which comes out to roughly 11 miles an hour, which is about how fast I run a mile. Actually, I run a 10-minute mile pace. In high school, it was closer to 7 minutes, but let’s not get into that now. Long story short, I basically run as fast as Thisldu sails. Just think about that for a moment. Let it sink in.

Of course, I couldn’t run as far as we sailed. I’m a horrible runner. And it wouldn’t be nearly as fun, running down the coast of Mexico. It would be hot. Exhausting. Sunburn-inducing. And probably a little bit unsafe.

I’m not complaining at how long it has taken us to sail down the Pacific Coast of Mexico, rather just pointing out that we have gone very far at a relatively slow pace and it feels like we have been in this country forever.

Realistically, we’ve been in this country for four months. Four months! That’s the longest time we’ve ever spent in any one country other than the United States. We were in Europe for three months this summer, but bopped to different places every few weeks, if not every few days. It’s just not the same.

If we wanted to, Garrett and I could keep Thisldu in Mexican waters for ten years. Ten years. We’d have to go back to the States and renew our Visas every six months, but still. Our home, albeit a floating one, could be in Mexico for a very long time. Ironic, don’t you think? The unfairness of the situation—that we Americans can so easily make our homes in Mexico while so many Mexicans are rejected, deported, jailed, and caged while trying to do the same in America—is not lost on me. 

We are not taking our time here for granted, and have enjoyed being in this country thoroughly.

Since entering Mexican waters on November 4, Garrett and I have sailed to the tip of Baja, partway up the Sea of Cortez, across the sea to the mainland, twenty miles offshore to Isla Isabela, and all the way south to Chiapas, our last port of call. In all, we have made twenty-five stops with Thisldu and covered 2,400 nautical miles.

On Baja, we stopped in Turtle Bay, Bahia Santa Maria, San Jose del Cabo, Los Frailes, Los Muertos, and La Paz. In the Sea of Cortez, we anchored off of Espíritu Santos in Bahia San Gabriel, Ensenada de la Partida, and Ensenada el Candelero. On the mainland, we visited Mazatlan, Matanchen, Chacala, La Cruz, Yelapa, Bahia Chamela, Tenacatita, Cuastecomate, Barra de Navidad, Ensenada de Carrizal, Bahia Santiago, Zihuatanejo, Acapulco, and Chiapas. And, as I mentioned, we spent a few days at Isla Isabela, a blue footed boobie and frigate bird preserve twenty miles offshore between Mazatlan and San Blas.

Our favorite stops have been in San Jose del Cabo, Los Frailes, Bahia San Gabriel in Espíritu Santos, Isla Isabela, Chacala, Tenacatita, and Ensenada de Carrizal. San Jose for its architecture and artsy city vibes, Bahia San Gabriel for its crystal clear blue waters, Isla Isabella for its Jurassic Park-like wildness, Chacala for its cheap small town prices and anchorage full of other young cruisers, Tenacatita for its flat waters and nearby raicilla distillery, and Ensenada de Carrizal for its snorkeling—the best we’ve seen in Mexico.

All but one of those stops—San Jose del Cabo—have been anchorages. Roughly fifty percent of our time cruising Mexico has been spent at anchor, twenty-five percent at marinas, and twenty-five percent under sail. Garrett classifies those as the three worlds of cruising: the anchoring world, the marina world, and the sailing world. They each feel so different. When you’re in one, it’s hard to imagine being in another. We enjoy all three worlds for different reasons, but if we had to choose, anchoring would be our favorite.

There’s nothing like waking up in the middle of the water, enjoying a cup of coffee in the cockpit staring out at the open sea, and jumping in for a quick afternoon dip to cool off. Being at anchor is so…freeing. And, in the literal sense, free. It costs nothing. That’s the biggest downfall of marinas: they can be expensive. On average, we’ve paid about $.80/foot/day for docking at a marina, so $28 USD for our 35-foot sailboat. We’ve paid as low as $22 a day in Mazatlan and as high as $70 a day in San Jose del Cabo. If you’re staying for more than a night or two, those charges really add up. 

Garrett and I have opted for marinas over anchorages from time to time for a variety of reasons. Hot showers. Wifi. The ease of getting off of the boat and exploring on land. Access to shore power to run fans and use our blender and the electric kettle. To refill our water tank. To do laundry and haul groceries to our boat without having to load them up into the dinghy. To sleep in a spot that is relatively still—the boat is always rocking when we’re at anchor. To have access to amenities like a pool and gym (hello Marina El Cid, Grand Isla Resort de Navidad, and Club de Yates!). To switch things up.

I usually find myself getting restless after a few days at a marina, which is usually when we move on. I love moving on. Waking up to different scenery. Having new experiences. Moving forward is what keeps me going in all of this.

That’s why, after four months, I feel ready to move on from Mexico. Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and Panama are calling our names.

But leaving is bittersweet. We’ve grown accustomed to Mexico and feel safe here. The people are friendly, helpful, and always willing to listen patiently to our Spanglish. And while I am starting to miss the United States, it doesn’t feel all that foreign in Mexico, which is a comfort. We frequently have access to big stores like Walmart (I never thought I’d say I like Walmart, but in Mexico, I do) and Home Depot and Autozone. It’s relatively easy to get what you need here. And we’ve been grateful to still feel connected to people at home—our Verizon Wireless plan allots us .5 gigs of free data every day. That’s not a lot, but it’s something; we won’t have any free cellular data as we continue south. Being able to stay connected, being able to shop in familiar places—it’s all helped us ease into the cruising lifestyle.

From what I understand, Mexico has more creature comforts than anywhere in Central America. I might regret saying this, but I’m ready to abandon those comforts in pursuit of new horizons. For us, four months in Mexico was enough. And as our cruising season is closing in on us, we’re eager to spend time in other countries. I’m excited, and if I’m being honest, a little bit anxious about all of the unknown that we’re facing as we approach the Panama Canal. I really don’t know what to expect. Will it be more of the same or drastically different? All that I know is that I’m ready. We both are.