Michael J. Fitzgerald has been a journalist for 40 years, working as a writer and editor for newspapers, magazines and web publications. In 2014 he published the novel, "The Fracking War." In 2015, he published his second novel, "Fracking Justice." He writes or contributes to five blogs. He and his wife Sylvia Fox are the owners and principal partners in *subject2change Media, a multi-media firm involved in print, video and broadcast. He writes a weekly column, "Write On" for the daily 'Finger Lakes Times' newspaper in Geneva, NY. He was a journalism professor at CSU Sacramento from 1986 to 2011 teaching Newswriting, Column Writing and Magazine Writing.
MARINA VALLARTA, Jalisco, Mexico - There are whales and there are whales but outside the entrance to Marina Vallarta, located mid-way between Paradise Village and the Zona Romantica in downtown Puerto Vallarta is this life-size sculpture, high above the pedestrians and autos.
You can see it for miles as you approach.
We took a sojourn yesterday to Marina Vallarta and a boating supply store called, quite appropriately, Desperado Marine, to find some chemicals and other assorted outrageously expensive stuff for Zephyrus and Sorsha (Ever pay $35 for a gallon of oil?). Sabbatical is out of the supply market until son Dustin (aka 'Polvo') returns from his Baja bash. He's currently at anchor off the beach at Cabo San Lucas waiting for a good weather window to move north and help deliver Serendipity to San Diego. On the ham radio a few minutes ago, I heard that Wednesday they hope to leave.
Next to Desperado Marine is the Opequimar Boatyard, a very modern facility under the watchful eye of the beautiful yard manager Anjelica (pronounced An-hel-eee-ca) who unfortunately was taking her siesta/lunch break when we came by to check on prices for dry storage for Zephyrus. But I'll make another trip by today. Any excuse to visit Anjelica...|
In the meantime I'm closing down my Mexico office and will return to Sacramento and smog this week where writing assignments and mi amigos await. Work on all writing stalled on the tracks but will go better when I have fewer distractions and no boogie board calling to me. But then back in Sacramento, it is kayak season now on the fast-flowing American River which is right out my back gate. With all the rain, the dam keepers (as opposed to the damn keepers) are letting out a vast volume of water, turning the normally placid American into a boiling rage of of a river, complete with rapids. And my kayak just needs a quick clean up, a little wax on the bottom and I'm ready to rock 'n roll on the river.