Towards the end of my time at Black Diamond, I grew interested in environmental impact.  I saw the number of products that we built every day, the raw materials that went into each product, the energy needed to transform the raw materials into a finished good, and the shipment of all the materials and products.  It was immediately obvious that we expended huge amounts of energy to accomplish these things and I figured that, because of the scale, tiny improvements in efficiency would result in large overall gains.  I did a lot of reading and started to learn more and more about how companies account for energy usage and how they work to reduce their impact upon the environment.

Before working to reduce your impact, however, it is helpful to develop a baseline: How much energy / water / fuel are we using?  This helps you understand which items are your biggest offenders (always tackle the low hanging fruit first) and it also allows you to measure gains from year to year.  At Black Diamond, this was all in the context of the overall organization, but in the back of my mind, I always wondered how much impact I had as an individual.  

When I was considering departing from Black Diamond to go on an adventure, I had three different options bouncing around in my head (besides this sailing adventure).  One of the biggest draws to sailing, for me, was the low level of environmental impact.  I was sitting in the cockpit this afternoon, looking out across the bay, and I decided I ought to perform a quick inventory to compare my old life on land to my new life on the Rascal.  The results are pretty satisfying and it’s interesting to see where the biggest improvements exist.

Because I only have a water capacity of about 32 gallons on the boat, I’m very sparing with my water use.  Most of my impact comes when I’m in a marina hosing off the boat, taking a real shower (as opposed to swimming in the ocean!), and doing laundry.  As just one person, I have enough water capacity to go for about 50 days without needing to worry about catching rainwater or stopping someplace to fill tanks.  I typically use salt water for dishes and sometimes cooking, which is also really helpful.  I’m currently using 93% less water than I did on land.

I always figured that transportation was my area of largest impact (between the gas guzzling truck and the flights back and forth across the pacific) and the thought of using the wind to propel me was exceptionally compelling.  The Rascal still has an engine (a very efficient small diesel), but I try to only use it for maneuvering in marinas and at times when safety might be a concern (bar crossings, crowded channels, or big storms).  I reckon I’ll probably only fly home once per year and even that ends up accounting for about a quarter of my impact.  Overall, I’m using 88% less fuel than I did on land.

I’m in the process of installing some Goal Zero solar panels and once everything is all setup, I’ll be a lot more independent.  Right now, I’ve been charging my batteries when I run the engine and occasionally plugging into shore power in the marina to top them up.  As it is, I’m using way less power (no AC, no TV, no electric heater, minimal lighting / electronic use) and soon I’ll be totally off the grid.  For the purpose of this analysis, I included the power used in doing laundry, occasionally topping up batteries, and using power tools in the marina.  It amounts to about 3% of what I used last year.

There are obviously still places where I could improve, but I’m proud of the changes I’ve made.   If I ever go back to living on land, I’ll definitely be able to live with less.  I published my results, not with the intention of bragging, but to get folks to think about where they might be able to improve.  It’s relatively easy to perform one of these analyses (just google things like “water usage shower” and “fuel economy of airplanes” and page through old utility bills).  Once you know how much you’re using, it’s a lot easier to make improvements.  For instance, I would never have suspected that more than half of my water usage came from showering.  Perhaps I should’ve taken shorter showers or bought one of those new fangled shower heads.  It’s also instructive to take these usage numbers and attempt to convert them to dollars and cents.  I was spending thousands and thousands of dollars on fuel before I moved onto my boat, and now I expect it’ll add up to just under a thousand per year.

It was a sweltering La Paz evening: warm and sunny, like always.  I couldn’t even sit down without sweating.  A thought came to me that had been circulating in my mind ever since I crossed the Mexican border: it’s time to turn this beard into a mustache. 

I haven’t seen my chin since 2010, back when I was racing dune buggies in South Carolina.  Given the crowd that naturally gravitates to dune buggy racing, it only seemed appropriate to sport a mullet and some face-furniture.

Since those fateful days, my beard and I have spent some really good times together, engaging in numerous noble adventures and I would be sad to see it go.  I knew there was only one appropriate way for my beard to depart from this world: a traditional, full-fledged Viking burial.  Construction immediately began on a Viking warship, with huge timbers hewn from the finest mahogany and teak.  I'm no expert shipwright, but I think I managed to assemble a craft that even Eric the Red would've been impressed by.

I've been hanging out with a couple of Aussie blokes down here and my friend Hamish was on board (pun intended) to convert his whiskers into a nose-neighbor, as well.  He decided that he couldn't wait for the longship to dry and dove into the manscaping with reckless abandon.  In a few short minutes, he had a crumb-catcher that would've made Pancho Villa proud.

In the meantime, we did some fishing and Hamish managed to catch the biggest shark we’d ever seen in La Paz harbor.  It was a real monster.  

After another Tecate or two, Brett and Haylee showed up and we decided it was time to deconstruct my beard.  A short funeral ensued, during which time I saw fit to say a few words.  

Poseidon or La Virgen de Guadaloupe must've been listening, because a glorious double rainbow was immediately painted across the sky with a sunset backdrop.  If thats not a good omen, I don't know what is.

Slowly and surely, we loaded my poor beard into the viking ship and eventually my mustache was born.  Brett and Hamish prepared to launch the ship, and since none of us felt comfortable shooting flaming spear guns in the crowded harbor, we decided to revert to some dinghy gas to get 'er fired up.  After living on a boat for so long, its also possible that the beard itself was flammable, because it burst into flames in a hurry.

The reception to my mustache (surprisingly) has been mixed.  All of the retired cruisers around La Paz give it an enthusiastic thumbs-up.  The lovely Mexican maidens I’ve encountered around town visibly swoon as soon as they catch sight of it.  Every mustached hombre I encounter gives a nod of approval.  The dogs of La Paz, however, have all barked and bristled as I stroll past.  I can’t blame them, of course, I’d feel threatened too.

I arrived in La Paz a little over a week ago and it has fully been living up to its name (La Paz means "The Peace" in english).

My exit from Cabo happened to coincide with the passage of some substantial storm systems and I ran into one that really got the Rascal rocking and rolling.  It came on fast, but I managed to get my sails reefed in time and the Rascal came out a little damp, but relatively unharmed.

The rest of the trip up the coast was uneventful and I took my time, exploring bays and beaches as I sailed along.

Since I arrived in the La Paz area, I've spent the vast majority of my time relaxing.  Some days I do nothing but read my book.  I don't think I've ever been so relaxed in my life.  I've got no schedules to hit, no weather windows to worry about, and no job to show up to in the morning.

It is outrageously hot here.  High nineties or triple digits every day.  There is no escaping such frightful temperatures on the Rascal, but typically there is a light breeze blowing and I installed a couple of fans to help cool things off in the evening.  The sea is always just a dive away.

I've explored a bunch of the bays and coves along the coast between La Paz and Cabo, but for the most part I've been anchored close to the city.  Its nice to be able to row to shore and pick up a bag of ice or a delicious taco from one of the street vendors.

I have a handful of boat maintenance things to accomplish here in La Paz before I head north, the most important being the setup and install of my solar system.  I've been exploring around town a bunch as well, searching for good markets and picking up more fishing supplies.  

There is a very helpful crew of voyagers around La Paz during the summer and they run a morning radio broadcast where you can get weather info, ask about various local shops, and trade equipment if needed.  They put together a 4th of July party on a beach a couple miles outside of town and it was awesome to meet the dozen-or-so boats that came out for it.  I made a mean pulled-pork chili that wasn't too shabby if I do say so myself.

A friend of mine is visiting this weekend and after that, I'll probably work my way further up the Sea of Cortez.  I'm eager to explore new anchorages and get back into deep water where the big fish are!