Great Dane on Board - Episode 4
My narrative was interrupted by Odin’s attempt to “set the record straight.” I don’t know why he felt the need to comment, because everything I said is true. But we are back to my perspective this week.
In our last episode, Penn managed to run the boat onto a rock in Mexico. Thanks to the community of Abreojos we were able to tow the Victory back to Ensenada for repairs. Finally, after what seemed like the sequel to the movie Planes, Trains and Automobiles, Penn and Dawn make it back to San Diego.
In our last episode, Penn managed to run the boat onto a rock in Mexico. Thanks to the community of Abreojos we were able to tow the Victory back to Ensenada for repairs. Finally, after what seemed like the sequel to the movie Planes, Trains and Automobiles, Penn and Dawn make it back to San Diego.
The Victory arrives at the Baja Naval boatyard. A wreck.
Arriving at the Baja Naval boatyard in Ensenada, Mexico, we watched as they pulled the broken Victory out of the water. It was pitiful. She looked like a wreck (which, in truth, she was). There were two holes in her side, there were numerous places where her keel was torn up, her sails were wrapped with line to keep them from flying free. The dinghy was holed. Lines, cushions, fuel tanks, etc, were strewn about her decks.
“What do you think, old boy? I asked Odin. He woofed and whined. Dawn interpreted this to mean “Man, I’m glad I wasn’t on the boat when this happened.” I took it to mean that he was no happier than I was. We left in despair.
But first things first, we needed to find a place to stay.
I had to do penance for my blunders in wrecking our fine ship. I chose a thirty dollar a day motel that took dogs. Our room was tiny, with a “kitchenette” that consisted of a counter top burner, an ancient fridge and a bar sink. There weren’t enough utensils or pots and pans to serve a meal.
We had to strip the boat down to the bare bones to work on her. We threw away thousands of dollars worth of ruined tools, appliances, etc. Everything that we could save off the boat, we crammed into our little motel room. There was hardly room to walk.
The small TV didn’t work. When I talked to the manager, he brought an even smaller one and propped it up on a box on the dresser. At least Odin was happy. He loves his TV.
Odin thought he had died and gone to heaven. Our dinky little room had a double bed and a single. As soon as we walked in the door, he claimed the single for himself. A bed of his own and a TV, what joy.
I on the other hand was miserable. As well I deserved to be. I had little will to go on living, certainly not to reward myself for my acute stupidity. We didn’t even know if the Victory could be saved. We sat and brainstormed a list of options for the rest of our lives.
“What do you think, old boy? I asked Odin. He woofed and whined. Dawn interpreted this to mean “Man, I’m glad I wasn’t on the boat when this happened.” I took it to mean that he was no happier than I was. We left in despair.
But first things first, we needed to find a place to stay.
I had to do penance for my blunders in wrecking our fine ship. I chose a thirty dollar a day motel that took dogs. Our room was tiny, with a “kitchenette” that consisted of a counter top burner, an ancient fridge and a bar sink. There weren’t enough utensils or pots and pans to serve a meal.
We had to strip the boat down to the bare bones to work on her. We threw away thousands of dollars worth of ruined tools, appliances, etc. Everything that we could save off the boat, we crammed into our little motel room. There was hardly room to walk.
The small TV didn’t work. When I talked to the manager, he brought an even smaller one and propped it up on a box on the dresser. At least Odin was happy. He loves his TV.
Odin thought he had died and gone to heaven. Our dinky little room had a double bed and a single. As soon as we walked in the door, he claimed the single for himself. A bed of his own and a TV, what joy.
I on the other hand was miserable. As well I deserved to be. I had little will to go on living, certainly not to reward myself for my acute stupidity. We didn’t even know if the Victory could be saved. We sat and brainstormed a list of options for the rest of our lives.
Odin ponders his fate.
Every morning we got up, had a quick bite
of breakfast from our sorry excuse for a kitchen, then headed down to
the boat yard to work.
For the first several days, we tore out and destroyed. So much was ruined by the wreck. We had water up to my waist in the cabin and almost everything we own had been damaged.
As we piled the refuse we tore out of the boat in the boatyard, Odin began to get worried. He stood or sat by the pile for hours, wondering if we were going to throw him on the heap and get rid of him too.
Odin quickly settled in to life at Baja Naval. At first the workers were afraid of him.
“Señora,” one of the workers on the next boat approached Dawn. “Es OK you tie up beeg dog? My partner, he afraid of dogs.”
Odin worked hard. Little by little he won over the workers. Even the guys afraid of dogs (and there were quite a few) eventually came around. He became the unofficial mascot of Baja Naval. All of the other boat owners became his friends and there were even a few other dogs to play with.
But, ever faithful as he is, he never strayed far from the Victory while we were working on her. He had to be close to the ladder in case Dawn or I came down.
He supervised our work carefully. Anything that was done on the ground needed his approval. Of course, he couldn’t climb the ladder to see what we were doing on board.
For the first several days, we tore out and destroyed. So much was ruined by the wreck. We had water up to my waist in the cabin and almost everything we own had been damaged.
As we piled the refuse we tore out of the boat in the boatyard, Odin began to get worried. He stood or sat by the pile for hours, wondering if we were going to throw him on the heap and get rid of him too.
Odin quickly settled in to life at Baja Naval. At first the workers were afraid of him.
“Señora,” one of the workers on the next boat approached Dawn. “Es OK you tie up beeg dog? My partner, he afraid of dogs.”
Odin worked hard. Little by little he won over the workers. Even the guys afraid of dogs (and there were quite a few) eventually came around. He became the unofficial mascot of Baja Naval. All of the other boat owners became his friends and there were even a few other dogs to play with.
But, ever faithful as he is, he never strayed far from the Victory while we were working on her. He had to be close to the ladder in case Dawn or I came down.
He supervised our work carefully. Anything that was done on the ground needed his approval. Of course, he couldn’t climb the ladder to see what we were doing on board.
Odin supervises the work in the boat yard.
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Lift that bar, tote that bail . . .
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After two weeks in Motel America, I decided I’d had enough. I realized that while punishing myself, I was also punishing Dawn.
“Why don’t we try to find an apartment?” I asked.
The next day, Dawn had us moving into a cute little duplex about four miles out of town.
Odin loved the new digs. Like most houses in Mexico, there was a high cement wall around the property. Inside the wall, was a beautiful garden, filled with cactus, flowers and all sorts of green plants.
Odin was in paradise. He had a comfortable home, he was living with his family and he had lots of cats as playmates to help him pass the day.
Carnaval comes in late February. All of Ensenada and tens of thousands of people from all around come for the event. The city shuts down. The main street, right in front of the boatyard, is closed off and lined with booths selling beer, treats and all sorts of trinkets.
Our big Dane was a smash success. We took him with us to view the booths and couldn’t get ten feet without someone stopping us to ask about him.
Twenty or thirty thousand people lined the streets for the parade. People dashed across the street around floats and through bands to give him strings of beads. By the end of the parade he was covered in glitter and little stars.
As soon as the parade was over, we were mobbed. Hundreds of people fought to get close to him, to take his picture and pet him. I was never afraid for our security because these are very gentle people, but I did think we’d never get out of there and go home.
“Why don’t we try to find an apartment?” I asked.
The next day, Dawn had us moving into a cute little duplex about four miles out of town.
Odin loved the new digs. Like most houses in Mexico, there was a high cement wall around the property. Inside the wall, was a beautiful garden, filled with cactus, flowers and all sorts of green plants.
Odin was in paradise. He had a comfortable home, he was living with his family and he had lots of cats as playmates to help him pass the day.
Carnaval comes in late February. All of Ensenada and tens of thousands of people from all around come for the event. The city shuts down. The main street, right in front of the boatyard, is closed off and lined with booths selling beer, treats and all sorts of trinkets.
Our big Dane was a smash success. We took him with us to view the booths and couldn’t get ten feet without someone stopping us to ask about him.
Twenty or thirty thousand people lined the streets for the parade. People dashed across the street around floats and through bands to give him strings of beads. By the end of the parade he was covered in glitter and little stars.
As soon as the parade was over, we were mobbed. Hundreds of people fought to get close to him, to take his picture and pet him. I was never afraid for our security because these are very gentle people, but I did think we’d never get out of there and go home.
Odin comes home from Carnaval
We lived in Ensenada for the rest of the winter while we slowly repaired the Victory. After three months she was finally ready to be re-launched.
In early December, Dawn and I set sail. Odin, once again, stayed with our friends in San Diego.
Eventually we made it to La Paz. Dawn immediately flew to San Diego to pick up Odin and make the 1200 mile trip down Baja’s treacherous roads.
Having Odin with her as she navigated the perilous highways of Baja was not a bad thing. For one thing, she didn’t have to worry about bandidos. No one would be stupid enough to attack a woman protected by a Great Dane. Secondly, she had it easy at the military check points.
On the highway from Tijuana to La Paz there are at least a dozen military checkpoints. The soldados (Mexican Federal troops) are looking for guns (illegal in Mexico) and drugs (also illegal). They stop cars, make the passengers get out, then search the cars.
That never happened with Odin on board. They stopped the car, saw Odin, and waved Dawn on. Dawn says she doesn’t know who was more afraid. Her, because she didn’t speak Spanish and couldn’t communicate with the soldados, or the soldados, when they saw the giant dog in the back of the car.
“Es beeg perro?” the soldados asked at some checkpoints. “Morde?” they wanted to know. Dawn finally figured it out.
“No, he doesn’t bite. Es muy amable. Do you want to pet him?”
“Tomo una photographia?”some soldados even asked. That one was easy.
Dawn got Odin out of the car and snapped the picture. With hand gestures and a few words, they were able to communicate. Everyone left happy.
After twenty hours of driving, Dawn and Odin pulled into the parking lot at Marina Palmira elated and exhausted.
The Victory is tied up in a nice marina. Odin walks up and down the docks like he owns them. We had cushions made for the aft cabin in Ensenada. That’s Odin’s bed.
He likes to be tucked in at night. He will make a couple of turns around his bed, settle down, then Dawn spreads a blanket over him, covering his eyes. It gives him a sense of security. If he can’t see, then he can’t be seen. If he wants to take a nap in the middle of the day (which he does often, he’s an old boy) he tosses his blanket in the air and crawls under it.
There is a hatch on the aft cabin which is right over our bunk. Dawn calls this her “Genie hatch” because it’s like in I Dream of Jeannie. She drops down the hatch to her luxurious bedroom. Odin loves the hatch because Mom pops out of it. When we’re in the aft cabin watching a movie, he often comes and sticks his head down the hole so he can be with his people.
It’s almost as if we were sleeping in a big bunk bed. Odin sleeps in the top berth (on the cabin top) and we’re on the bottom. We often wake up at night and see his big snout peering down the Genie Hatch.
The marina has a large parking lot with lots of palm trees. It’s a short walk down to the beach and his new favorite game is “Coconut.” He thinks that coconuts are footballs. He finds them and brings them to Dawn to throw, then pretends that he’s a wide receiver going downfield after the ball.
Great Danes are known as “Gentle Giants.” They know they’re big but don’t throw their weight around. Small dogs need to show dominance, Danes just stand and be calm.
There is a small dog (a mutt really) that lives on Dock 3. He wants the whole world to know that he is the King of the Marina. We were taking Odin for a walk when a pack of small dogs approached. The King was in the lead. He immediately challenged Odin.
Understand that this little dog might have weighed twenty pounds after a big meal, with his pockets full. Odin weighs in at one seventy. The King kept yapping and biting at Odin’s ankles. Finally, Odin placed a giant paw on the King and pasted him to the ground. Without a growl or bark, Odin just stared at the little dog. When he removed his paw, the little dog rolled over and showed his subservience. Odin calmly walked away.
The King has avoided Odin ever since.
In early December, Dawn and I set sail. Odin, once again, stayed with our friends in San Diego.
Eventually we made it to La Paz. Dawn immediately flew to San Diego to pick up Odin and make the 1200 mile trip down Baja’s treacherous roads.
Having Odin with her as she navigated the perilous highways of Baja was not a bad thing. For one thing, she didn’t have to worry about bandidos. No one would be stupid enough to attack a woman protected by a Great Dane. Secondly, she had it easy at the military check points.
On the highway from Tijuana to La Paz there are at least a dozen military checkpoints. The soldados (Mexican Federal troops) are looking for guns (illegal in Mexico) and drugs (also illegal). They stop cars, make the passengers get out, then search the cars.
That never happened with Odin on board. They stopped the car, saw Odin, and waved Dawn on. Dawn says she doesn’t know who was more afraid. Her, because she didn’t speak Spanish and couldn’t communicate with the soldados, or the soldados, when they saw the giant dog in the back of the car.
“Es beeg perro?” the soldados asked at some checkpoints. “Morde?” they wanted to know. Dawn finally figured it out.
“No, he doesn’t bite. Es muy amable. Do you want to pet him?”
“Tomo una photographia?”some soldados even asked. That one was easy.
Dawn got Odin out of the car and snapped the picture. With hand gestures and a few words, they were able to communicate. Everyone left happy.
After twenty hours of driving, Dawn and Odin pulled into the parking lot at Marina Palmira elated and exhausted.
The Victory is tied up in a nice marina. Odin walks up and down the docks like he owns them. We had cushions made for the aft cabin in Ensenada. That’s Odin’s bed.
He likes to be tucked in at night. He will make a couple of turns around his bed, settle down, then Dawn spreads a blanket over him, covering his eyes. It gives him a sense of security. If he can’t see, then he can’t be seen. If he wants to take a nap in the middle of the day (which he does often, he’s an old boy) he tosses his blanket in the air and crawls under it.
There is a hatch on the aft cabin which is right over our bunk. Dawn calls this her “Genie hatch” because it’s like in I Dream of Jeannie. She drops down the hatch to her luxurious bedroom. Odin loves the hatch because Mom pops out of it. When we’re in the aft cabin watching a movie, he often comes and sticks his head down the hole so he can be with his people.
It’s almost as if we were sleeping in a big bunk bed. Odin sleeps in the top berth (on the cabin top) and we’re on the bottom. We often wake up at night and see his big snout peering down the Genie Hatch.
The marina has a large parking lot with lots of palm trees. It’s a short walk down to the beach and his new favorite game is “Coconut.” He thinks that coconuts are footballs. He finds them and brings them to Dawn to throw, then pretends that he’s a wide receiver going downfield after the ball.
Great Danes are known as “Gentle Giants.” They know they’re big but don’t throw their weight around. Small dogs need to show dominance, Danes just stand and be calm.
There is a small dog (a mutt really) that lives on Dock 3. He wants the whole world to know that he is the King of the Marina. We were taking Odin for a walk when a pack of small dogs approached. The King was in the lead. He immediately challenged Odin.
Understand that this little dog might have weighed twenty pounds after a big meal, with his pockets full. Odin weighs in at one seventy. The King kept yapping and biting at Odin’s ankles. Finally, Odin placed a giant paw on the King and pasted him to the ground. Without a growl or bark, Odin just stared at the little dog. When he removed his paw, the little dog rolled over and showed his subservience. Odin calmly walked away.
The King has avoided Odin ever since.
Odin is king of the beach.