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Our 66 pound anchor was stuck in the anchor roller.  Weird, and substantial due to the awesome force of our massive Le Tigre anchor winch.

So I leaned over the one-inch diameter pulpit rail and pushed on the anchor fluke.  Nothing.  Pushed a little harder.  Nothing.  Pushed one more time.  Clunk snap crash.

Clunk was the anchor un-wedging from the roller housing.  Crash was the anchor dropping three feet before the chain came tight.

Snap was the pulpit rail wedging between my ribs and snapping one of them.  It was a fairly clear noise.  Not a lot of ambiguity.

We immediately cleared the deck and headed for La Paz, 85 miles away.  At six to seven knots, that’s, umm, quite a while.  We got out the first aid books and treated me for shock and reviewed the boat procedures and lined up medical supplies and iced the area.  It scared the crap out of us.

Once I didn’t start coughing up blood or passing out, it got boring.  Still scary and painful, but boring.

This is what a normally too skinny rib cage looks like.

This is the right side with the more interesting but hideous hole/bump malformation.

Here in Baja we use frozen sushi-grade tuna for rib ice-packs.  It’s traditional.  Cheaper chicken freezes too hard and hurts.  Good thing I had my Kindle.  I finished the Sherlock Holmes collection.

At least the moon was pretty.  Must be a harvest moon, heh?  We docked in La Paz at 11 pm.

This morning the La Paz medico looked as this pretty picture and declared me healthy but sore.  Since you can’t even see the front ribs I’m a little unclear on his criteria.  However, I’m pretty sure the break, if it does exist, is just a crack.  I can feel it grind if I move around too much.  Must be my imagination.

So Nancy gets to do all the heavy lifting for a while.  Good thing her back is good.