Mark this spot: the center of my world at this moment is 24 degrees 36 minutes north, 110 degrees 35 minutes west. This is about 25 miles north of La Paz, on the eastern shore of Mexico's Baja California peninsula. My home is at 48 degrees north, 121 degrees west. What a difference 24 degrees makes.

In only a couple of days, southern Baja has demolished notions about Mexico that lingered from my first visit 25 years ago. Then, I recall, it was an intolerably hot, dirty, and barren land where I thought it unsafe to eat, drink, or breathe deeply.

I suspect summer in Mexico would be too hot for my Pacific Northwest blood, but everything else seems OK. I've been eating and drinking in cafes and on the boat, where the water is filtered and treated. I've eaten fresh vegetables and fruit (after scrubbing and washing) and meat and am feeling great. The only unusual effort has been using a hand sanitizer when leaving a grocery store. (Then again, Safeway at home offers hand wipes for customers, too.)

As for Baja being barren land: One good hike showed me there's an amazing amount of animal and plant life to watch when you go ashore and beyond the beach. The animals may be small, but evidence of their presence is everywhere. Thorn bushes that look dead display brightly colored blossoms. Birds flutter easily among spiny branches. You do need to bring your own drinking water.

Smooth, peaceful water surrounds us off Los Islotes and the only risk is sunburn, but boaters in Mexican waters need to be superbly capable of operating a self-sufficient vessel, from handling a craft in poor weather to navigating long distances with outdated and sometimes erroneous paper charts to having a keen eye for weather and - very important - having the ability to fix things.

Those I have met fit the bill. One is Bill Lee, who is aboard the small inflatable that's a dark blob above me. Bill, an engineer, technician, and mechanic, bought a basket-case 65 foot Romsdal North Sea trawler nearly 20 years ago, and with imagination, unthinkable hard work,

I came the easy way, via airplane to La Paz, then aboard a classic old yacht, and finally, in an inflatable dinghy. The rewards are almost the same.

Our mother ships, a pair of historically important North Sea trawlers, left La Paz this morning and now are anchored a few miles south at Isla Partida in the kind of harbor seen on covers of travel brochures. After anchoring, seven of us jumped aboard inflatables and zipped up the coastline, steering through some natural rock arches along the shore to Los Islotes and its colony of sea lions. Five of us are in the water acting like kids.