I’m not saying we’re branching out just yet, but the thought has been floated of adding an “S” to our initials and a surfboard to our logo. As we already have a surfer among the founding members of the D&C, the concept was not so outlandish.
It’s the shortest day of the year, the day where night’s mantle spreads widest across our hemisphere. The flip side of this passage through Hades, this chthonic corridor as it were, be it literal or figurative, is that as of tomorrow, the days are getting longer. Not that you would know it by looking at the Canadian winter, but still. The minute the nadir is passed, the ascension begins. We will start looking to summer, after a fashion, and the full moon that will greet us on January First is certainly another auspicious sign; luminous silver to light our way in the coming year.
As my wheels were spinning in the soft sand of a forgettable beach, not really making me move forward at all, and I was looking at an upwards trail that would have made any 4×4 take pause, I made Saint Christopher a promise. Get me out of here and I will make you an offering of your choice. Turns out Saint Christopher wanted a blog post.
I found myself in the dead of night on a plane headed to Mexico, but this time we were headed to the Pacific coast, specifically La Paz, close to the southern tip of Baja California Sur, which, thanks to a pocket dictionary (and not the interwebs) I found out imply means Baja California South, and is usually (on licence plates, businesses and such) abbreviated BCS. Next to me were two other founding members of the D&C. This was going to be a savant mix of road-trip and diving. From La Paz we would take the back roads (I assumed St Christopher would be rather busy) all the way to Cabo Pulmo and then to the Cabos, Los Cerritos (a surfing spot), Todos Santos (where the original Hotel California can still be found) and finally back to La Paz. Our layover in Mexico City was short, we would be in La Paz for breakfast. It did not work out that way.
For the first time in my life I am up in the air on the last day of the year, I certainly hope there will be many more, and so it is not without irony (for a founding member of the D&C no less), that I really hate flying. I’m sure there’s a metaphor or a fake Chinese cookie message in there somewhere, but I’m at a loss to interpret it. My spidey senses are a bit dullish this morning, 3 AM wake-up, Bloody Mary in the airport lounge and all that, plus the aforementioned “dislike” for aerial travel, which if you knew more of my background would bump the irony up to eleven. The complete Diving and Chillin’ clan is headed to Cozumel, meaning the island of the swallows in the Mayan language. Expected activities? Please cue the evident punch line: diving and chilling. For the first time kids, the second generation of the club, are joining us. Time moving on and all that.