The trip to Indio to see Ginny was rather uneventful except that I was given a bath. I’m such a good girl and very sweet smelling I might add.
Ginny’s in Indio: After a harrowing face off with her neighbors who cornered me under the Argo. They thought me a run-away. I had escaped Ginny’s back yard to seek out the Captain. He and Ginny had left me with some strange animal, also called a dog. I preferred the company of the Captain, thank you. When Ginny and the Captain returned they saved me from the savages living just next door. I was embarrassed and HOT. We left on good graces for northern climes, while I panting all the while from the heat.
Los Angeles: The channel the Captain chose was Route 10. A choppy ride at best. Whatever you’ve learned about sailing, boater safety and water decorum has nothing to do with your Los Angeles sailors. They travel a great speeds while stylin’ behind the helm, hurrying from one snarl to the next. Not a Mae West among ’em.
Our mad dash was just that, a mad dash through a vortex of villany (not bad for a dog, eh?). Every sailor for himself; indeed, the human race. Then it was up and
over Cajon Pass. The Captain hates passes. His knuckles turn white and he grinds his teeth.
What an awful place – rising and rising, then falling and falling. If I had eaten it would have come up.
After a good night’s rest in a channel inn we made it to Oakland and our friends there and a place called Dan and Jeanne’s. Ah! the aromas! Especially down the stairs to a place Dan called his “man cave”. This is a lovely, quiet port with a great garden for doing ones’ business.
First and Only Mate of the Argo.