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.

 

Your Servant,

Tasha II

First and Only Mate of the Argo.