We’re finally there.  San Carlos.  The Land of Broken Dreams.  The Place Where Dreams Go to Die.  And it’s almost exactly like I’d envisioned it, only worse.

Against the advice of other sailors and our Lonely Planet guide, we spent the last week in Guaymas.  (LP had nothing good to say about Guaymas whatsoever) And I will say, it was a particularly dirty, stinky city.  But 3 former Mexican presidents were  born there and we didn’t see a single gringo the whole week.  Guaymas had a Soriana, a Sams Club, and a Ley.  It had a downtown, a town square with a central structure designed by Gustaf Eiffel, a cathedral, and even a multi-plex movie theater.  Again, not the nicest place we’ve ever been, but compared to what we’d come to find in San Carlos it was a veritable Shangri La.

One day last week we paid the 12 pesos and took the bus to visit San Carlos, the place Oblivion would be put “on the hard” for a couple of months.  The bus wandered out of Guaymas and through a few kilometers of desert before turning off on a beautiful, divided highway lined with palm trees for the last 5K into San Carlos.  As we approached, our spirits dampened noticeably.

San Carlos isn’t an actual city.  It’s like what you’d find on the outskirts of Vegas 30 years ago.  A crappy house here.  An old hotel there.  Drive another 2 blocks and there’s a storage facility.  In fairness, the town is centered around Marina San Carlos, a 400 slip marina and gigantic boat storage yard known as Marina SECA.  There’s a hotel and spa that’s overpriced and doesn’t look too nice.  Fully half of the commercial real estate is abandoned, and the other half isn’t far behind.  A quarter of the homes are for sale and look like they’ve been for sale for decades. (except the fancy multi-million dollar homes on top of the hills) The grocery store closed.  No gas station.  And all the nachos are made with processed cheese-orange death for certain.

And then there’s the marina…full of boats and devoid of people.  It’s the place boats go to slowly die after the wife issues the ultimatum.  It’s close to the US and above the dreaded 27 degrees latitude, a line insurance companies say you must be north of after hurricane season begins.  After driving through the marina it doesn’t look like there are inhabitants on more than 10% of the boats.  Marina SECA has another 1000 or more boats on the hard, awaiting a brokerage arrangement or a buyer with a fresh dream.  If you are one of those people who believe your boat has a spirit, a soul it’s the last place in the world you want to leave her.

So, to SV Oblivion: We still have hope for you.  We still have dreams of taking you places.  Don’t lose hope, pretty girl.  We’ll be back, and when we come back we promise to get you away from those losers at Marina San Carlos.  Which one of those boats is not like the others? OBLIVION, that’s who.

So enjoy the beautiful scenery while we’re gone and don’t get too comfortable.  We’re coming to get you soon.

The Cap’n.