If July is a season of truncated schizophrenia at latitude 26, then January is a season of corresponding anger and cynicism. The tired out old year has passed, and a new one begun. Holiday indulgence is put to pasture, and incurred debts are pushed forward. Boats hobby horse on their moorings buffeted by the cold north winds, waiting for a window between the repetitive cold fronts that blow in like the ill winds of reality, waiting for their masters to point the bow into the wind and slide away to a warmer, friendlier climate.

Jean is dying.

The matron of Anchor Marina is in the hospital and on life support. I have watched this drama unfold so many times in the past several years that it taints my vision and clouds my soul. I am uncomfortably numb, a cold narcosis like standing in the raging north gale that is blowing across the Laguna Madre staining the azure waters murky brown.

And to add further aggravation, Mark has returned, and it appears that he has instantaneously attained the zombie like existence that sent him up the river in the first place. Janice yells from her porch overlooking the whole mess admonishing the derelicts that have come out of the shadows to cater to his addiction, to just leave…..leave this place.

Like the transition between low pressure cold fronts and building high pressure, things here are in a state of chaos and flux. Inevitable change is on the wind.

Dock boy has been seen scavenging PVC pipe from the dredge project before the dredgers even have a chance to utilize it, snaking up the road before first light, but Don, in his ever vigilant vendetta busted him in flagrante delicto. Predictably though, the Port Isabel Police department (modeled after the Keystone Cops) refused to take action, and so once again, anarchy rules.

Like it always does.

The ongoing dispute between Dock Boy and the Community has escalated into covert currents that are a harbinger of ominous things to come. The ‘possum cops wrote a ticket for his long expired registration, but the local federale, Bennie, tore it up telling Dock Boy that he only needed to register the vessel if it were in operation, not tied to the dock. This of course violates maritime protocol, but then we do live in the no mans land known as La Frontera, so it remains to be seen whether or not the rule of law shall be enforced….

There is momentum within the community to boycott renewing registrations on their vessels in protest, citing that if the law allows this for Dock Boy, than in fairness it will have to allow it for them too.

Unfortunately, I have already renewed ‘Divs registration with the state, and my USCG documentation is still good for several years.

Meanwhile, Dock Boy seems to be the presiding slum lord over the crumbling empire that was once Anchor Marina, insinuating himself in every situation, acting as the ambassador and spokesman in the absence of any rational or coherent management.

(I am posting this prior to updating the sailing that took place during the holidays. I will back date those entries, so look for them in slots behind this. I hope you all had a fine Christmas and New Year, and our fervent wish is for prosperity, safety and adventure during 2008 and beyond.)