I could hardly believe it when I read the email.

I’d posted a message on a community forum for San Carlos, Mexico, asking if anyone might have a solution to our rental car dilemma. We needed a car to run boat-related errands in Arizona before driving down to San Carlos, and to get around San Carlos while we decommissioned our boat.

But for the week or so while we planned to be out cruising on our new boat, the rental car would be sitting—and we’d be paying. Rental car companies require extra insurance for Mexico and the cost quickly adds up. The best price I got after checking around was about $850 for two weeks—pricey, especially since we wouldn’t even be using the car for half the time. On top of that, we needed to find somewhere to stay for three or four days while our boat was on the hard and being decommissioned.

So I posted a message on the community forum, hoping someone might have a car to rent us but realizing it was probably a long shot. And once again, I was reminded that sometimes, amazing things can happen if you simply ask.

A man named Mark emailed me with an unbelievably perfect proposal. He’d drive to Tucson, pick us up and bring us to San Carlos, loan us a car while we were in town and let us stay in his beachfront condo. For all that he’d charge us just $600, about half what it would have cost us to rent a car and get a hotel.

Of course, it sounded too good to be true. Aware of the legions of scam artists and nutters lurking in cyberspace, I was a little skeptical but hoped Mark was for real. After talking with him by phone, I was reasonably convinced that he was. Mark runs a nonprofit in San Carlos called Ocean Camp that offers environmental education to kids and adults. His website looked legit, and after our boat surveyor in San Carlos vouched for him, I felt reassured.

We flew into Phoenix on Wednesday, rented a car to drive to Tucson (which costs considerably more to fly into from Seattle), and spent half a day running errands. We first went to buy six new boat batteries. Eyeing our economy-sized rental car, its trunk already packed with tools, luggage and boat-related gear, the man at the battery shop was dubious. But we loaded in the batteries, which are the size of a small cooler and weigh about 50 pounds each, and got on our way.

Gear, gear and more gear: transfering our goods for the trip to San Carlos.

Next, we went to pick up the boat cushions we’d had reupholstered at a shop in Tucson (at one-third the cost of having the work done in Seattle). Pulling up to the shop, I saw the cushions leaning against a wall and started to worry. There were 14 of them, and they were bigger and took up much more space than I remembered. Marty miraculously managed to cram them into the back seat of the car, which required pulling my seat so far forward that my knees were jammed against the glove compartment.

Next was Target to get a blanket and pillows, since there was no bedding on the boat. Our final stop was at U-Haul, where we bought two rolls of shrink wrap to secure the mast and rigging before the boat would be trucked to Seattle. The little car looked like it would burst.

The next morning we headed for a hotel near the Tucson airport, where we’d arranged to meet Mark and his partner, Miguel, to transfer our gear to their vehicle before returning the rental car. We got there a few minutes past the prearranged meeting time and saw no sign of them. Five minutes passed by, then ten. Just as I was starting to wonder if they’d show, a blue minivan pulled into the parking lot and Mark waved. Relief.

There was just one more hurdle to worry about: the border. Mark had warned me that enforcement had recently been ramped up on the Mexican side. Four hundred new border guards had been hired in recent months, and Mark relayed horror stories about people being detained at the border for hours while guards interrogated them and searched their vehicles. Clearly, we’d be declaring our $850 worth of new batteries and other purchases.

After parking and going into the small customs building, Marty and I were ushered into a room, where a young woman in uniform sat at a desk. We handed her a list of items we were declaring. She filled out a form and directed us to go next door to the bank and pay. The $139 in duty was well worth it to avoid the stress of worrying about being caught smuggling undeclared goods. I have an aversion to jail, particularly in foreign countries, and am unskilled in the art of bribing officials. So we ponied up.

A little further down the road, we had to pass through another customs checkpoint. A green light meant we could proceed, while the dreaded red light signaled a possible vehicle search. Happily, we got green. After a final stop to buy tourist visas ($25 each for six months), we were on our way to San Carlos.

The drive from the border town of Nogales to San Carlos takes about four and a half hours, winding through stands of cacti and arid ranch lands, and a few charming little towns along the way. We enjoyed the scenery and spent much of the time chatting with Mark, who, it turns out, also has a background in journalism as a former National Public Radio reporter.

While Miguel drove, Mark told us about the trips his organization offers, including annual excursions to San Ignacio on the Baja peninsula to see the “friendly grey whales” that gather there annually, delighting boaters by coming close enough to pet and playfully swimming around boats. He was interesting, funny, a wonderful storyteller.

We arrived in San Carlos after dark and drove to the marina. It had been three and a half months since we’d seen the boat. We’d been anticipating and thinking about this moment for weeks, fantasizing about sailing on the Sea of Cortez and excitedly talking about how great it would be to finally be on our new boat. Even in the dark, she looked beautiful.

Our San Carlos ride, a Mexican-made Volkswagen.

The next morning, waking up for the first time on Three Sheets, the boat was every bit as dazzling as we’d remembered it. The brightwork gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the portholes. The newly covered cushions looked beautiful. The navigator station sat awaiting its next use. We were anxious to get going, but there were things to take care of first.

We spent yesterday and today installing new batteries, cleaning the long-unused water hoses, giving the boat a good scrubbing and bending on the main sail. We used Mark’s red Volkswagen Bug to run errands, breaking for lunch at a tasty, inexpensive taco joint on the main strip for some shrimp tacos and hot dogs. The state of Sonora is known for having some of the best hot dogs around. Marty loaded his up with the customary toppings—guacamole, grilled onions, homemade salsa, jalapenos.

We still have a few more things to do—fuel up, hit the grocery store, check the engine and fill the water tanks—and then we’ll head out tomorrow morning. The sailing looks to be glorious. The punishing heat of the summer is gone, along with the stifling humidity. Temperatures are hovering around 80—perfectly warm, but not too hot. The forecast is calling for light and variable winds tomorrow, ideal for our first outings on Three Sheets.

Things are, in a word, perfect.

About Deborah Bach

Deborah Bach is the editor and co-founder of Three Sheets Northwest. She is an avid sailor and long-time professional journalist. You can find Deborah aboard Three Sheets, an Island Packet 38, with her husband Marty and their cat Lily.

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