DOWN THE WINDLESS “COSTA GRANDE” TO ZIHUATANEJO; UNITARIAN JIHAD Friday, 24 Feb 06 to Saturday, 04 Mar 06 Day 1. It’s Hard To Get A Big Boat Moving! Barra de Navidad to Bahia de Carrizal. Friday, 24 Feb 06 We decided last night to get the vessel ready for “putting to sea” this morning and leave when the sea breeze picks up in the late morning. Actually, I prepared most of the deck items yesterday, including putting all the remaining paint items down the lazarette hold or into the portable-paint locker under the cockpit seat and lashing down the additional plastic fuel jugs and whatever else might be lying around loose abovedecks. This morning we only need to get the awning and sail-covers stripped off and stowed below (the dew has been light and they are already dry by the time we finish our coffee), and bring the dinghy aboard. The dinghy is a real time-eater. Unbolting the two parts and hoisting them onto the foredeck is not the issue. The bottoms are heavily encrusted with barnacles and coated in slime as they come up. This has to be addressed immediately or the barnacles become so dried out that they become impossible to remove without a grinder and the slime dries on in a stinking rotting mess. In the back of my mind I am hoping that the anchor chain is not covered with marine growth and making our living space reek with the smell. Been there, done that! In all, it takes us an hour to scrape and scrub everything clean, nestle the two parts over the wooden foredeck hatchcover, and secure everything so it will not move. Some people argue that it is bad seamanship to have a dinghy on the foredeck. To be frank, I tend to agree with them. But, the staysail boom clears the stowed tender, and I still have lots of room to move around to either side when going forward to bring in head sails or work the anchor windlass. The clinching argument for not stowing it aft of the mainmast and over the main cabin is that, with the skylight where it is, the dinghy will just not fit there. So, this is where the Chameleon lives when we put to sea. By 1100 the Bruce anchor is up, set into place on its bow roller, its anchor chain lashed down with a length of quarter-inch line so the anchor cannot accidentally bounce out of its parking spot while we are moving and go overboard, dragging fathom after fathom of 5/16-inch chain with it. I check to make sure that both the 44-pound Bruce, the anchor we normally use, and the backup 40-pound CQR anchor that is positioned on the left side of the bowsprit are both immobilised and will not be clanking and clinking as we move. Although the wind is very light, the mainsail, as always, is up to reduce rolling. Our goal for today is Bahia de Carrizal at the entrance to the big bay where Manzanillo is situated. We shall likely give the latter a pass since we have no need of fuel or provisions and the town is reportedly not particularly attractive. We have anyway had enough of towns for a while, nice as Barra de Navidad and San Patricio-Melaque have been. Of course, Kathleen has been away in urban Germany and is ready for sunshine and peace and quiet. It is only a short hop to our anchorage and we have the anchor down in a remote little cove where we are, unusually for this cruising ground, the only boat present. There are no houses or hotels here either. The swells do refract around the point but there is a steady wind from the beach at the top of the cove so we are kept fore-and-aft to the swells. While Kathleen works on dinner, I place the swim ladder amidships, get out my snorkel, mask and flippers, organise a plastic scraper and the wire brush, and jump over the side in the fresh and relatively lucid water to give the prop and bottom a cleaning. I have only just recently begun to undertake this process myself and already the US$ 20 I invested in a good, used face mask has paid for itself. Divers charge US$ 1 a foot of waterline in most places and an exorbitant US$ 2 a foot in Puerta Vallarta, that valley of grasping tourism and cruising service-providers. Avoid it like flee-ridden sewer rats! I pat myself figuratively on the back for having paid for the mask after doing only about one metre of the boat’s length. With the scraper and mask I can reach down from the surface to get to sixty or seventy percent of the hull. Everything is thickly covered with black sea-urchin-like plants that adhere with a calcium-based glue. But they do come off the poisonous anti-fouling paint quite easily. There is slime and plant life and barnacles around the prop shaft. The former two come off easily with the wire brush but the latter have to be chipped off. A miserable job, though I do get most of it and leave only a few on the nut that holds the prop to the shaft. The blades are now smooth, though they have a residue of calcium glue. All of this has taken only about 45 minutes, I should estimate. But we are at high slack tide and there is not much current: the approximately 70° F water has become turbid from the gunk I have scraped off and I am now getting cold without a wet suit. Even though I have not attempted to dive down to the lower depths of the hull where there is still black plant growth, I am satisfied that we will now make better and more fuel-efficient speed in the days ahead. When the prop is heavily encrusted there is a radical loss of power from cavitation and any attachments to the hull, though perhaps less of a hindrance, also cause significant drag. “Keep a clean machine!” applies here as in so many situations. I throw all my gear up to the side deck and climb back aboard, calling self-righteously for a schnapps to help me get warm again. Getting a big boat moving, converting it back from a caravan to a cruising vessel requires overcoming personal inertia. A short first day is always a good idea. There was basically no sailing wind today and we motorsailed everything. But we are on the move again and that feels good. Soon Kathleen passes up a hot meal and we sit in the cockpit and eat and talk as the sun drops behind the ridge to the west. Beginning a voyage on a Friday has also so far not brought any bad luck. In fact, this is perfect. The stars come out as the cove shuts down for the night. We are alone. Day 2. AN EARLY START; A LONG DAY; FISH FOR DINNER. Saturday, 25 Feb 06 Since we have to cover about 50 Nm today, we are up at dawn and, while the water is boiling for coffee, we get the anchor and mainsail up, and motorsail SSE across Manzanillo Bay. It’s the usual clear skies, very light or non-existent winds and lots of motorsailing. We plan our two-hour watches at the helm and the off-watch heads below to read out of the sun. The early-morning watches are pleasant but, breezes or no, the glaring sun is hard to take after late morning. The sea breezes do spring up around noon and the engine-driven vessel creates its own wind. But it is hot and drying. In fact it would be perfect weather if only we had a bit of shade for the cockpit. I try jury-rigging an awning using the Cooleroo screening material but, while it works, it inhibits the operation of the boat and we finally take it down. It is very easy to get a sunburn or become very dehydrated and we are careful to wear a hat and take regular swigs at the Suero de Dehydrante (serum for dehydration; essentially sodium, potassium, magnesium and calcium). Nevertheless, a long day out on the water is exhausting. The coast we pass about a mile out is one continuous white beach. One can hardly believe how many or how much beautiful beaches Mexico has. There is a coast highway but I judge that there is only about a vehicle every ten minutes. There are occasional groups of thatched palapas; it’s a weekend and there are people there on the beach. But otherwise the beaches are deserted. Where the coastal stretches are flat the land is generally full of palm trees. These are coconut and banana plantations. Occasionally I spot groves of what might be citrus trees running up the hills. In the interior the mountains rise in one row after another, the colours becoming darker the farther they are from us. We are making an easy 5 knots this morning so cleaning the prop and hull has paid off. We should be able to cover the 50 miles in ten hours. About noon, the fishing pole stuck out over the side begins to jump around. I call Kathleen up from below and she reels a bonito tuna in, about two and one-half feet in length. They are good eating and, while Kathleen steers for a bit, I fillet the fish in about ten minutes. This little sucker has really swallowed the lure! I bet he got a surprise. I place the fillets in a bucket of sea water in the shade under the cockpit seat, and throw the head, tail and skeleton overboard for the crabs. Vorfreude ist die beste Freude!, one says in Germany (the anticipation of joy is the best joy!) We discuss how we should cook the fish for dinner. Since we have no meat on board, getting a nice fish will provide us with a couple of great meals. We decide to simply fry the huge fillets in a pan with onions, ginger and oil, to eat half tonight and the other half cold for lunch tomorrow. In the early afternoon there seems to be enough breeze to hoist the big cherry-red drifter, which I have bent on the jibstay flying free (no hanks) and we get enough speed that we can stop the noisy Lister engine. We are making 3 to 3.5 knots. Very gentlemanly sailing speeds and downwind at that. Nice as this is, unfortunately by 1700 it is becoming clear that we are not going to make our anchorage before it gets dark (pitch dark around 1930) unless we motorsail. In comes the drifter and the engine starts throbbing. Our goal is the bight at Cabeza Negra (Black Head). We have an alternative anchorage in mind on the other side of Cabeza Negra if it is too rolly but I suspect we shall get to the first choice just before dark. Sure enough, as we come in past an anchored off panga and get our anchor down in behind a rocky reef, the lights are going on in the expensive beach houses that line this little beach. We are close to shore and it is in fact a bit rolly. But it will do provided the wind or waves do not intensify during the night. Wind! Intensify! Not sure how I would cope any more with intensified winds on this coast. We are actually a little south of the “Horse Latitudes” or “Variables”, normally between 20° N and 30° N. In the days of the old sailing ships, the crews would either throw the horses overboard for lack of water or just eat them. Lacking livestock aboard, we motor. The fish dinner is terrific! Day 3. Cabeza Negra To Bahia de Maruata; Just Another Day At Sea. Must Haves, Should Haves, and Could Haves. Sunday, 26 Feb 06 We want to be in Zihuatanejo by next Sunday so we can call William on his 14th Birthday. Today will be another long-ish day and we are up at dawn and through our getting-under-way drills in a record ten minutes. As usual, Kathleen takes the first watch since she is already at the helm when we get started; I always pull up the anchor and get the sail(s) up, which accounts for the marvellous figure so admired by all who see me. There has got to be some upside to this physical work. I often think about ways to reduce the actual muscle-power needed to operate the boat. But, when I see our fellow cruisers using rubber dinghies with outboard motors rather rowing, frequently quite powerful and expensive inflatables and motors, when I see large boats with electric or hydraulic anchor windlasses, power sail winches and bow thrusters, when I understand that these same people often buy memberships in “fitness clubs” and are constantly dieting, I stop fussing about the work. I have saved money and I am fitter for it all. I normally drop weight steadily when I am cruising and put on weight when I am ashore near doughnut shops, bars, etc., I am in good health and after the first couple of days of hauling on halyards and anchor chains, it no longer fazes me. During my watch I take Vilisar closer to the shore so I have something to look at. Not that anything is particularly different. The cruising life is not for you if you need a rapid succession of scenery changes. Watch the TV news or go to a movie for that. Things are slow. I do run through things I need to do before going offshore to The Galapagos in April and I make up a list of things that, if I had the money, I would do to make Vilisar a little bit more comfortable. -good mattresses for sleeping and for the settees (which are also sometimes used for sleeping); -good cushions for the cockpit. Since I painted everything with non-skid sand, not only has the seating remained harder than a buckboard, you can scrape the skin right off your posterior as well! -wind-scoops for the forecastle and companionway hatches. There are parts of the boat below that get a bit of breeze. But other parts are hot and get no moving air. We do have a couple of low-amp Hella electrical fans, but I would like to have wind-scoops for when we are at anchor; -it would be really nice to have a hi-fi system and an MP3 to store the music. I think the salty air is going eventually to damage our CDs and they take up a lot of room anyway. Is any of this really too much to ask? Peu à peu, I guess. Right now we are under the gun to buy airplane tickets for the kids this summer: Andrew will join us soon in Acapulco and then fly back from Guayaquil at the end of May; return tickets for Antonia and William to Ecuador when we arrive. They also need passports. So I guess it’s hard mattresses and sore butts for a while longer. So, what else is new? My cockpit pondering also extends to safety items for the boat: -a replacement for the life ring that probably blew overboard in Barra lagoon in the gusty afternoon wind; -a much more effective radar reflector (I fancy a Luneburg brand); and even, -a radar itself. (I am assuming that the SSB (single sideband) radio receiver that has been following us from Tucson to San Carlos and now, I hope, to Picayune, Mississippi, for Andrew to bring with him will actually finally make it to us. We need it for the weather forecasts when we go offshore.) And than there are some “should haves” like: -new deep cycle batteries for our electrical needs. I only hope we don’t -need a new alternator and/or voltage regulator. We would also like: -additional bookshelves in the main cabin and forecastle, new; -more colourful tiles for the diesel furnace and galley; perhaps, -some native art work for the bulkheads. But these are “could haves” and not likely to be acquired any time soon. Actually, none of these are really out of reach but it will just have to take a little time. And, of course, we have to finish paying off the boat, continue child-support payments, put money aside for a new or used suit of sails, etc. We are not that much different from other families: living beyond our means. Bahia de Maruata is small and we tuck in behind a rocky point and reef that breaks up the swells. The beach is lined with palapas. It is Sunday and there is lots of family activity all along the beach including soccer, volleyball, swimming and sandcastle construction. We don’t go ashore. We are anchored far enough out that we can skinny-dip without offending anyone’s sensibilities. The water is clear and a little chilly but a great refresher after a long hot day in the sun. Day 4. Maruata to Ensenada de Pichilinguillo. Monday, 27 Feb 06 Up and at ‘em at dawn; anchor aweigh and under way by 0730. Man! This is getting to be easy. The land breezes drop to nothing by 0800 or 0830 so we just motor on out down the long, windless Costa Grande with its endless white beaches. We forgot to buy coffee so are trying black tea for our morning starter. Actually, not bad. There are, surprisingly, many fewer fishing vessels the farther south we go. Even the number of pangas seems lower than, say, up in the Sea of Cortés. We do occasionally see a shrimper operating out a ways but not many. Undaunted, we troll our lure. But, motoring along at over 5 knots, I suspect we are going too fast to attract bonito, mackerel and the like. Big tuna farther out like this speed but it is probably too quick for other fish. How mountainous Mexico is! I can count ten or twelve lines of mountains coming down to the coast ahead of me for about twenty-five miles and about four or five lines of ragged peaks looking inland. The Pacific Tectonic Plate is pushing up against the America plate. Where there is a rocky promontory that has been bashed by the sea and wind, you can see the differing levels of stone, sea-bottom, sand, even coal, etc., that have been pushed up out of the sea bed at a slant. In fact, nearly all of Mexico is mountainous with not a few of its cities a mile high. It is also volcanic and prone to earthquakes, not to mention hurricanes, inundations of tropical rain and mudslides. Communications within Mexico must be a nightmare, highways difficult to build. There are two parallel ranges of mountains in the north: Sierra Madre Occidentale and Sierra Madre Orientale. Down here we are looking at the Sierra Madre del Sur. There are lots of dormant or extinct volcanoes and one active one at Colima near Barra de Navidad. It last erupted in 1997, I think. I notice that, here, many of the peaks have logging roads cut up to them and there has been a lot of clear-cutting. Just like British Columbia. Stupid! We fish out the waters and strip the hills and then move on. The sea is nearly dead calm and we are motorsailing and heading to Pichilinguillo. We encountered the name near La Paz on Baja California and were told it was a corruption of Vlissingen in the Netherlands. Basically it was a nest of Dutch pirates that preyed on the Spanish bullion ships coming from Manila in the Philippines. The bullion, I believe, was transhipped by land to the Caribbean coast for on-shipment to Spain. It is very boring today. Wouldn’t mind seeing a pirate or two! Argh! There are lots of fish swarming around us but no luck catching one. All we need is one fish and then we pull in the pole, clean it and eat it for dinner. Only when we are out of fish do we start fishing again. I am reading Margret Wittmer’s Postlagernd Floreanna, a personal account of a German family from Cologne who moved to the Galapagos as survivalists in 1932. I am reading it in preparation for our voyage there. It’s fun to read and gives me some idea of weather and conditions in the archipelago. Pichilinguillo is a large curving bay between two rocky points. We find a parking spot in 30 feet of clear water behind a 200-foot high rocky island and bird sanctuary. Although it seems very exposed to the sea, the water between the island and the mainland is actually a submerged reef and it breaks up the power of the big, slow Pacific swells. We swim and clean the bottom of the boat a bit more. Expecting the whole time that we shall soon be rolling in the refracted swells, we spend a very calm night at anchor. Soon after we arrived, another vessel, S/V Snow Leopard, came into the bay from the south and anchored a dozen boat lengths away. Neither one of us launched our dinghies; we just waved and minded our own business. Day 5. Pichilinguillo to Caleta de Campos. Tuesday, 28 Feb 06 The sea is calm the next morning too although we can clearly see swells pounding on the rocks ashore on the other side of the reef. Since we do not have quite so far to go today, we decide to wait until the sea breezes come up late in the morning and sail the whole way. The winds refuse to come up and around noon we cannot expect to make it to the next anchorage before dark unless we get going now. Once again, coastal sailing forces us to use the engine or take the chance that you will have to stand off all night or bypass certain ports. Our goal for today is only a few hours away. We leave at 1130 and have the anchor down by 1600. Caleta de Campos is another one of those pretty little Mexican beach towns lined with palapas with a gaggle of fishing pangas drawn up on the beach in the portion of it with the least surf. Day 6. Caleta de Campos to Lázaro Cárdenas. Ash Wednesday, 01 Mar 06 Uneventful day except that at around 1300 I look up and spot some whales surfacing off to our port front. They swim right towards us and cross our path very close in front of us. They pay us no heed although occasionally one or other of the small pod raises its mammoth head and eyes us. We see plenty of dolphins, some of them playing around the boat. But otherwise the day is uneventful until we spot the smoke and factories of Lázaro Cárdenas as far as twenty miles away (the whole distance today is only about 35 Nm, all along the endlessly long Playa Azul. Lázaro Cárdenas was a Mexican president who in the early 1940’s began a campaign of forced industrialisation of the country. Elsewhere I have mentioned Latin America’s love affair with “import substitution industrialisation”, which wreaked much havoc to the economies. The idea was to continue selling the products of resource-based economies while substituting the import of manufactured goods with locally-made products. It worked to a degree. But unfortunately, Mexico and other countries had to borrow money to industrialise. It built car-making and many other plants far too big to be efficient in such small national markets. During various recessions (especially after OPEC had induced two major recessions in the industrialised world by rapidly jacking up oil prices), Mexico and other countries were unable to sell their natural resources. Over-simplified, these were the reasons why Mexico became unable to repay its debt in 1980 and again in the 1990’s and threatened to renege. The price for being bailed out by the U.S.A. was a greater porosity of it borders for American products. Lázaro Cárdenas was a large, artificial industrial-harbour at the mouth of one of Mexico’s largest rivers, Las Balsas. Off the coast were anchored several large bulk carriers. We passed huge plants that seemed ominously quiet. One very large factory had obviously suffered physical damage from storms or hurricanes; others had no sign of life about them such as parked cars, truck traffic, even smoke. Only one plant looked alive: it was gushing out huge amounts of brown smoke that drifted on the 10-knot sea breeze inland over the 12,000-population city. Periodically the same plant would release a huge volume of steam that followed the brown smoke into the afternoon sky. After a mile or so of motorsailing parallel to the groins that held very large surfs at bay, we arrived at last at the broad entrance to the harbour. Although there had certainly once been a tidal bar here at the mouth of the Balsas, the channel is dredged to 45 feet to permit the ocean freighters (and us, I guess) to get in and out. There are several anchorages farther up into the port. But just inside the entrance breakwall is a small cove to the right and we put in there and drop our anchor in twenty feet of turbid water. A large bulk carrier is being unloaded (of what I do not know) with continuous shovel-type cranes and conveyor belts. Not many jobs at that dock; only a security guard or two. As dusk approaches, we see the hatchcovers being put back into place and three heavy tugs appear from somewhere farther up the port, pull the vessel, Amazon from Monrovia, away from the dock to windward, and accompany it as it runs out of the channel and puts to sea. When it is gone we do not feel quite so small and insignificant. As dusk approaches pangas begin to pull into the cove. The fishermen use throw nets to catch small bait-fish while they laugh and tease each other. Their action of throwing the circular nets from the prow of the panga is like watching a discus-thrower except these men are not huge and beefy and do not utter grunts and umphs when they gracefully but powerfully throw their nets with an economy of effort. While some pangas are collecting bait we see lots of other pangas heading out of the harbour for their night’s fishing work. Some also jig for fish at anchor in the chip channel. Not sure I would want those fish for food. We hear them in the night talking or calling to each other and occasionally we hear a fisherman singing. There are plenty of lights around from the factories and quays. Day 7. Lázaro Cárdenas to Isla Ixtapa. Thursday, 02 Mar 06 I am awake at 0400. Everything is covered in a very heavy dew and the factory is still belching smoke and steam, although at night the factory throws it lights from its internal fires up into the sky as well. Back to bed. Up and away shortly after dawn bound for Isla Ixtapa, our last stop before Zihuatanejo. A bulk carrier is on the way in and the three tugs come out to greet it. We are well out of its way and down the beach-lined coast. Around 0830 I see whales breaching about a mile away off our port bow and turn the boat in that direction. This is usually fruitless, since the breaching, I believe, comes at the end of a team effort to corral swarms of food fish. The whales shoot up from a depth with their maws open and their speed carries them right up through the surface. The same activity, however, eventually scatters what’s left of the fish and the whales submerge to start another round somewhere else. I never see them again. We do see lots of floating sea-turtles, however, two of them with sea birds standing on their backs. The turtles may be sleeping on the surface, for when we come near them, they suddenly jerk up their heads in what appears to be surprise, take a look at us and awkwardly flap their flippers and dive. The day’s run is otherwise uneventful and we arrive in Isla Ixtapa around 1400. The island provides anchorages both on the north and south sides. We are at the former as are several other cruising boats. On the mainland shore there is a huge hotel complex and there are a lot of pangas ferrying tourists out for the shore to the palapas along the island’s sheltered beach. Everything is active until about dark when everything closes up and we are left with the lights of the hotel in the distance. Fortunately we cannot hear the disco music from this distance. In the afternoon, we get into the water again and scrub Vilisar’s waterline of the green scum that accumulates there over the weeks. The bottom and the prop still look good and we are definitely doing much better from a speed point of view now than before I cleaned things. This constant attention to cleaning the bottom and waterline is sometimes a nuisance. But so is cutting grass or watering the garden on land and now it doesn’t bother me. I look for an anchorage with clean water and, (I hope) no sharks, to do the work, do a little at a time if necessary and am content even if it does not look totally Bristol. Later I listen to some of the CDs that Kathleen has brought from German especially Franz Joseph Degenhardt and other similar CDs given to us by our friend in Frankfurt, Emanuel Neumeister. After these I start listening to Hadyn quartets. Thanks, Manny! While I am listening I am coating the new daggerboard-plug for the dinghy. I had a carpentera make it for me out of teak back in San Patricio – Melaque. It gets a good soaking with a sealant that should keep it from swelling or bending in the water. Maybe I shall paint it and maybe I shall just leave it oiled. I have the 1200 – 1800 mile voyage to the Galapagos and to Ecuador always now in the back of my mind. I am slightly apprehensive. But it is nothing like our earlier voyages. We have met a lot of things along the way and we have a lot of confidence in the boat. Extreme situations can always occur, however. We are too early in the season, normally, for tropical storms; they start in May and we should be well out of the storm belt by then and, I hope already in the Galapagos. Kathleen and I talk about our apprehensions but we both believe we are ready for this and are actually looking forward to it and beyond the actual voyage to the stay in Ecuador where our plan to conduct choir and conductor workshops appears to be going forward. The director of the Ecuadorian Choral Association has already blocked out two weeks for us in each of four cities, including Quito. There is still a lot of work to do to decide exactly how these workshops should be structured. But we are confident that something will come of it. We will be staying with local families and hope to leave the country with a residue of good friends through music. And if this approach works, it might be something we can use in other countries as well. When we talk with other cruisers, however, we are told that Acapulco, where we need to be by 16 Mar 06 to meet Kathleen’s mother and sister, is a very big port and expensive for cruisers to boot. Just anchoring off in the harbour costs $10 per diem and they charge $20 or $30 a day just to land your dinghy. This is a bit rich for our blood. Closer is wiser, I always say. Maybe it’s not as bad as some people say. We meet Stephan off the converted lifeboat S/V Emigrant. It’s a gaff-rigger as well. He is French and his wife is from Argentina. They have an 8-month old little blond baby on board who is just learning walk. Adorable. They have sailed through the Panama Canal and up the coast from Central America and are moving north. Day 8 & 9. Isla Ixtapa to Zihuatanejo. Friday/Saturday, 03/04 Mar 06 We need to get to Zihuatanejo soon since we are, for all intents and purposes, out of food and are living on things like pancakes. There was no point in getting there before the beginning of the month when my pension hits the account. After a second night here we shall sail the eight miles around to Z-Town, as some Americans call it. We want to be there too to call William on his birthday on Sunday. We loaf around Isla Ixtapa on Friday and leave late morning of Saturday. After motoring around the point we set the drifter and the main and sail at around 2.5 or 3 knots to the entrance to the bay where Zihuatanejo is situated. Pleasant day. To top it off we catch another nice bonito for our dinner that night. We pull in the sail at the entrance to the bay and motor in, anchoring off the town near the surf. I try to situate us so that we are pointing at the swells that come straight into the bay from the Pacific and hope that the land breezes at night will turn our pointed stern to the swells as well. It seems to work. I certainly don’t want to be bothered putting out a stern anchor is I don’t need to. The disadvantage is that it’s quite a row into the beach where the surf is the least. But we are used to that. JON CARROLL - Jon CarrollFriday, April 8, 2005 The following is the first communique from a group calling itself Unitarian Jihad. It was sent to me at The Chronicle via an anonymous spam remailer. I have no idea whether other news organizations have received this communique, and, if so, why they have not chosen to print it. Perhaps they fear starting a panic. I feel strongly that the truth, no matter how alarming, trivial or disgusting, must always be told. I am pleased to report that the words below are at least not disgusting: Greetings to the Imprisoned Citizens of the United States. We are Unitarian Jihad. There is only God, unless there is more than one God. The vote of our God subcommittee is 10-8 in favor of one God, with two abstentions. Brother Flaming Sword of Moderation noted the possibility of there being no God at all, and his objection was noted with love by the secretary. Greetings to the Imprisoned Citizens of the United States! Too long has your attention been waylaid by the bright baubles of extremist thought. Too long have fundamentalist yahoos of all religions (except Buddhism -- 14-5 vote, no abstentions, fundamentalism subcommittee) made your head hurt. Too long have you been buffeted by angry people who think that God talks to them. You have a right to your moderation! You have the power to be calm! We will use the IED of truth to explode the SUV of dogmatic expression! People of the United States, why is everyone yelling at you??? Whatever happened to ... you know, everything? Why is the news dominated by nutballs saying that the Ten Commandments have to be tattooed inside the eyelids of every American, or that Allah has told them to kill Americans in order to rid the world of Satan, or that Yahweh has instructed them to go live wherever they feel like, or that Shiva thinks bombing mosques is a great idea? Sister Immaculate Dagger of Peace notes for the record that we mean no disrespect to Jews, Muslims, Christians or Hindus. Referred back to the committee of the whole for further discussion. We are Unitarian Jihad. We are everywhere. We have not been born again, nor have we sworn a blood oath. We do not think that God cares what we read, what we eat or whom we sleep with. Brother Neutron Bomb of Serenity notes for the record that he does not have a moral code but is nevertheless a good person, and Unexalted Leader Garrote of Forgiveness stipulates that Brother Neutron Bomb of Serenity is a good person, and this is to be reflected in the minutes. Beware! Unless you people shut up and begin acting like grown-ups with brains enough to understand the difference between political belief and personal faith, the Unitarian Jihad will begin a series of terrorist-like actions. We will take over television studios, kidnap so-called commentators and broadcast calm, well-reasoned discussions of the issues of the day. We will not try for "balance" by hiring fruitcakes; we will try for balance by hiring non-ideologues who have carefully thought through the issues. We are Unitarian Jihad. We will appear in public places and require people to shake hands with each other. (Sister Hand Grenade of Love suggested that we institute a terror regime of mandatory hugging, but her motion was not formally introduced because of lack of a quorum.) We will require all lobbyists, spokesmen and campaign managers to dress like trout in public. Televangelists will be forced to take jobs as Xerox repair specialists. Demagogues of all stripes will be required to read Proust out loud in prisons. We are Unitarian Jihad, and our motto is: "Sincerity is not enough." We have heard from enough sincere people to last a lifetime already. Just because you believe it's true doesn't make it true. Just because your motives are pure doesn't mean you are not doing harm. Get a dog, or comfort someone in a nursing home, or just feed the birds in the park. Play basketball. Lighten up. The world is not out to get you, except in the sense that the world is out to get everyone. Brother Gatling Gun of Patience notes that he's pretty sure the world is out to get him because everyone laughs when he says he is a Unitarian. There were murmurs of assent around the room, and someone suggested that we buy some Congress members and really stick it to the Baptists. But this was deemed against Revolutionary Principles, and Brother Gatling Gun of Patience was remanded to the Sunday Flowers and Banners committee. People of the United States! We are Unitarian Jihad! We can strike without warning. Pockets of reasonableness and harmony will appear as if from nowhere! Nice people will run the government again! There will be coffee and cookies in the Gandhi Room after the revolution. Startling new underground group spreads lack of panic! Citizens declare themselves "relatively unafraid" of threats of undeclared rationality. People can still go to France, terrorist leader says. Michael row the boat ashore, and then get some of the local kids to pull the boat onto the dock, and come visit with jcarroll@sfchronicle.com. ©2006 San Francisco Chronicle AND THIS JUST IN: CHENEY SAYS SHOOTING OF FELLOW HUNTER WAS BASED ON FAULTY INTELLIGENCE Believed Shooting Victim Was Zawahiri, Veep Says Vice President Dick Cheney revealed today that he shot a fellow hunter while on a quail hunting trip over the weekend because he believed the man was the fugitive terror mastermind Ayman al-Zawahiri. Mr. Cheney acknowledged that the man he sprayed with pellets on Saturday was not al-Zawahiri but rather Harry Whittington, a 78-year- old millionaire lawyer from Austin, blaming the mix-up on “faulty intelligence.” “I believed I had credible intelligence that al-Zawahiri had infiltrated my hunting party in disguise with the intent of spraying me with pellets,” Mr. Cheney told reporters. “Only after I shot Harry in the face and he shouted ‘Cheney, you bastard’ did I realize that this intelligence was faulty.” Moments after Mr. Cheney’s assault on Mr. Whittington, Mr. al- Zawahiri appeared in a new videotape broadcast on al-Jazeera to announce that he was uninjured in the vice president’s attack because, in his words, “I was in Pakistan.” An aide to the vice president said he believed that the American people would believe Mr. Cheney’s version of events, but added, “If he was going to shoot any of his cronies right now it’s a shame it wasn’t Jack Abramoff.” At the White House, President George W. Bush defended his vice president’s shooting of a fellow hunter, saying that the attack sent “a strong message to terrorists everywhere.” “The message is, if Dick Cheney is willing to shoot an innocent American citizen at point-blank range, imagine what he’ll do to you,” Mr. Bush said. Elsewhere, aviator Steve Fossett completed his three-day journey around the globe, setting a world record for wasting both time and money.