Surely, a few of the fishing village residents muttered it.
Crewmates from our five-boat flotilla were setting off fireworks from the beach while the rest of us whooped and sang "The Star-Spangled Banner" into the marine VHF radio.
Our inappropriate use of a marine radio channel notwithstanding, it was the perfect celebration of America's Independence Day while we embraced Mexico's marine wonders.
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My husband, Joe, and I were among 40 people on a weeklong trip to the Sea of Cortez in a flotilla on a sailing trip sponsored by the Tradewinds Sailing School and Club of Richmond, Calif.
Our cadre of chartered boats sailed northward from La Paz on July 2 and anchored in a series of picture-perfect teal and aquamarine bays with sparkling white, sandy beaches.
The vermilion sea separates the Baja California Sur peninsula from the Mexican mainland and is home to one of the world's most diverse marine ecosystems.
It definitely was not the typical boat-for-hire tropical vacation where a smiling, uniformed crew whips up frosty drinks and cleans the head. (That's boatspeak for bathroom.)
We were the crew.
Under the direction of an experienced Tradewinds skipper, we hoisted sails, weighed anchor, navigated, cooked, took turns behind the helm and, most definitely, mixed our own drinks and cleaned up after ourselves.
But under blue skies and mild temperatures in the mid-80s, we also snorkeled and swam in crystalline warm waters.
We hiked beneath spectacular, 10-foot high giant Cardon cactus, motored through watery mangrove forests and past disinterested roosting pelicans.
We bought clams as big as softballs and shell jewelry on Isla Coyote, a two-acre rock originally settled in the 1940s by a shark fisherman seeking to escape the nasty jejenes, or tiny biting insects.
We rambled through Agua Verde, a tiny, remote village where fishing pangas line the shoreline, goats outnumber the people and the palm trees are a vivid green against a rocky, rust-colored skyline.
There, a boy about age 8 cheerfully led us down the dirt street to the tienda, or store, where we bought cold water and rewarded with cookies the young man's guidance and stellar attempts to understand our limited Spanish.
We even unofficially raced our rented, 40-foot sailing catamaran, Caribbean Reef, against a flotilla boat that dared cross our bow. (We won no matter what that other skipper tries to tell you.)
The adventurous vacationers joining us were young, old and every age between. Some had sailing experience. Others had no interest in boat handling and contributed their considerable — and highly appreciated — culinary skills.
In exchange for doing the work ourselves, we enjoyed a more affordable sailing vacation.
Through Tradewinds, where we are members, we paid $2,600 for our two-person cabin, which included our hotel, transportation to the marina and food for the week. We paid extra for airfare and beverages.
As a member of a flotilla, we felt safer than had we rented a boat on our own. Also, in this sparsely populated part of the world, where radio contact with other English-speaking crews was a comfort.
The cozy arrangement was not without its aggravations, though.
Joe and I shared the catamaran with seven adults, all but one we met for the first time on the dock in La Paz.
Fortunately, we got along but it was impossible to escape their companionship unless you swam or paddled away in the kayak.
There were no long, hot showers as a source of peace, either. Boats carry a limited water supply and our remote destinations lacked facilities to replenish the tanks.
We washed dishes in saltwater and showers consisted of the ol' Navy method—a fast squirt, a bit of soap and a speedy rinse.
And forget privacy. Each couple had a private cabin but they were small and hot during the day.
These were minor inconveniences. It was only a week, after all.
The trip was an opportunity for like-minded, adventurous travelers to experience life on the sea outside the suffocating womb — in my opinion — of a pricey, staffed tour or a large cruise ship.
One trip highlight for my husband was a swim with sea lions at Los Islotes, a hunk of guano-covered rock where the waters teem with marine life. He probably wouldn't have gone into the water with the giant beasts if one of our boatmates had not encouraged him.
Our skipper, Steve Damm, kindly piloted the inflatable dingy for my daily photography excursions, a duty my husband happily relinquished for the week.
Another fellow traveler demonstrated navigation software in the new iPad and probably deserves a commission when we buy one for ourselves.
And we had great fun bartering among ourselves. Some boats, for example, found themselves in possession of extra apples and excess garlic but perilously short on libations.
Skipper Matt Kepner, of Tradewinds, made the best deal of the week. He scored lobster from a Mexican fisherman and sent over samples in return for — guess? —tequila.
The question my husband and I have been asked most often about the trip was, "Would you do a flotilla trip again?"
But with our newfound experience, we are now far more likely to charter a boat on our own, and invite family or close friends to join us and share in the costs.
And, on our next sailing trip, I plan to hog the helm.