Sunday On The Beach

A Mexican in an SUV came in to the dirt parking area hot raising a dust cloud, but he was ready to get down to the water with his girlfriend. He missed Rusty sitting in his dusty hole and quickly set to unloading his car for the beach. He approached. “Would you like beer?”  Cheers! We drank his health in Corona. He smiled and strode off humping his ice chest as I reached for my phone camera. This right here is Paradise. I’m sitting in it. 

Not everything is free here on the beach and on Sunday food is flying in at a rapid pace to satisfy the masses. Our man Ivan was riding back and forth like a blue arsed fly on his motorbike.

For us he brought chilaquiles, tortilla chips in sauce accompanied by an optional fried egg, beans and salad. Oh and a large bag of fresh squeezed orange juice. So where did you have brunch?

Rusty spent the day napping and watching the beach goers drive up and unload their cars. Everyone will warn you about noisy beach goers on Sunday but these folk didn’t even play music. They enjoyed the natural surroundings.

We had previously bought a watermelon from a kid who stopped us on the street so why would we say no? We always carry a supply of twenty peso notes ($1) in case of begging or selling. It was delicious. 

Later a dude walked up and took two of my 20 peso bills and gave me a skewer of grilled shrimp with a lime on the end. You squeeze lime on everything in Mexico. A great snack brought to my front door.

We flagged Ivan down later and had ice cold margaritas delivered to our van… there was more! Layne was remarking it was good we did our exercise routine first thing and took a good long swim, all this food. 

Which was about the time the banana bread lady showed up and sold us our after dinner pudding for a buck and a half. I’m not kidding. It’s so good Rusty licked his bowl clean with his share. “El Trockay Dorado” is where we have our food sent when we call. 

Another van occupied by two rather odd people and their very large friendly and overbearing dogs told us they were going away for the day to avoid the crowds. It’s one day in the week and it wasn’t that bad. Free beer, food delivery and cheerful passersby wishing us well as they fought the soft sand.  

I walked Rusty and Layne prepared left over fish so it wouldn’t go bad more than as a response to hunger. As we ate a pick up failed to start. I joined the pushing team but not that nor jumper cables helped. They parked the truck and took off on foot to call friends. 

Our buddy Ron left today to start the trek north to work back home. We feel privileged more than ever to have no deadlines or timelines or appointments. This isn’t a bad place to take a break. Even without all day food delivery. 

Amazing Mexico

You go to bed after a Saturday like yesterday (it was Saturday wasn’t it?) and little wonder  you are exhausted. It started with a morning walk with my little buddy and ended with a little beach drama.

First a few pictures of Tenacatita Bay on our morning walk. 

After the walk we filled the solar shower to get a warm evening wash after our last swim of the day. Ron showed up and the three of us braved the pebble strewn beach to go swim the clear waters of the popular beach. We had swum the waters of the north beach on first arrival and were told no one swims there for fear of the undertow. Oops! That north beach with its steep black sand is reserved for sunset watching. We had the popular beach to ourselves in the morning hours before the weekenders showed up. 

Ron communicating below. If he gets motivated he may start north today to get back to his business in the States. We have no such plans. 

He helped us stake out the Moonshade awning against the increasing breeze and we sat in the taut shade and watched the cars arrive. It was a peaceful family scene with picnics and swimming and not even music to override the sounds of the ocean. 

The black sand is a deep fine powder and very difficult to drive on. This truck was incautious and barely backed out in time. Even his ATV had a hard time after he unloaded it. Nice guy, lots of waves and smiles. 

Ivan came by on his motorcycle and took our lunch order which he delivered shortly thereafter. Delicious of course.

I had breaded fish for lunch and Layne had octopus ( below), $15 for both. 

Ivan offered to take our trash to the dumpster and delivered Layne a $3 margarita… service! 

Americans and Mexicans and French Canadians all hanging out enjoying a day at the beach from their rental homes often in Barra de Navidad half an hour away. One guy was down from Colima in the mountains and keen to practice his English. 

After our swim we decided to go for a walk over the hill and just to give you an idea it’s quite steep. The hill separates our small beach area from the scene of the main action out of sight and hearing where we are parked.  Our heavily laden Promaster created quite the dust cloud scrambling up here. 

Before I knew what was happening Ron and Layne were looking at a menu:

We took a table in the sand and placed our orders. Layne required me to order something other than breaded fish again so I had buttered fish. Never headed of it before but it was delicious.

Our beach dinner was delightful and serene. It’s not fashionable to think of freedom hiding out in Mexico but our meal was emblematic of the true freedom of life you can’t imagine. 

Layne ordered her fish in an almond sauce and it too was lovely. We both had left overs for fish sandwiches for Sunday dinner. No frills, no huge sides. Rice, salad and a huge fillet on your plate. 

The vendors wandered between tables, families stood waist deep in the water chatting. Children played out of sight of their parents with no fear of kidnapping and all that weirdness that creates fear and paranoia in the US. Children are cherished in Mexico. 

We had seen this little guy and his very pregnant mother on the beach earlier and he was totally engrossed in his own world, disturbing no one and undisturbed. There were no tantrums or cries for attention. He was free to play. There was a sense of contentment across the beach. 

Rusty got some quality time in as well and after sitting next to me wandered off with his new pal. No health department warnings either. 

Ron had no idea what he had ordered and he received a rolled up fish filled with shrimp smothered in almond sauce. He pronounced it more than he expected to get.  A $35  dish in the US cost almost $9. 

We watched a large family order dinner then one of them got up and went for a swim.  When their food was ready he came back and sat down in his trunks dripping wet. He took his beer, stole some of his wife’s French fries and started telling stories as he toweled off with his t-shirt. No shirt? Dripping wet? No problem! 

Ron and I were laughing about how we will cope back in the States. 35mph? We’ll just pull onto the shoulder to let traffic by. And the magic third lane? We’ll miss traffic pulling to each side to let a passing car through the middle. I don’t know how I shall cope with angry drivers. I’ve lost my touch. 

We found the river we used to take our dinghy up to look for beach restaurants across the isthmus when we sailed here in 1998. In those days the river opened into the bay and you could motor up the river in a shallow boat. Not anymore. It dead ends here. Hurricanes shift sand. 

The walk back through the tropical dusk was spectacular so Rusty and I held up progress as he sniffed everything and I couldn’t make enough pictures. They looked like this:

But by the time we had trudged back over the hill in total darkness we discovered shock horror drama had swept “our” beach. 

Of a dozen vehicles that had pulled up to see the sunset two had got stuck in the fine grained sand. An older Mexican man rangy and tan with gray hair and an air of experience was directing the recovery. Ron and I joined in and I brought along my folding entrenching tool in the vain hope it might help. The man who took charge of the recovery efforts was the owner of the Tracker is dressed in orange in the photo below. He and his wife have an elaborate and sophisticated camping set up on the beach. His four wheel drive Tracker was the only car on the soft black sand. 

Actually of all the trucks and SUVs at the beach none except the director of operations had a shovel so after I exhausted myself shoveling sand a young Mexican took over from me digging with my tool. Many hands make light work and with a tug from the four wheel drive Tracker and all of us shoving we got the first one out. 

Similarly with number two and everyone was chatting and laughing. No one talked of liability or of calling a tow truck. We as a community got the job done talking amongst ourselves and making friends. I learned there are lots of shooting stars to be seen -estrellas fugaces. Who knew? 

As they drove away calling out good nights Ron and I reflected on the old fashioned fear-free sense of camaraderie we had witnessed. 

Think of all the stories of reasons to be fearful of Mexico and think of my actual experiences, and wonder why one reality does not match up to the other. Damned if I know why. I just know what I see. I saw a lot of good people living well yesterday. I was happy to be among them and to top it off Layne calculated all the food and drink the three of us ordered all day amounted to less than $45. Mexico is amazing. 

A Weekend At Tenacatita

Weekends matter. You might think this is obvious but lest you forgot I am retired and traveling through a world where time has so little meaning I can rarely remember what day it is. Yet, to my surprise I find that weekends really do matter.

We discovered this obscure fact when another resident of the Punta Pérula RV Park came by and explained why the prime waterfront spot we occupied is not preferred by cannier long term residents. I thought it was the low hanging wire but Dave explained the RV Park rents tent space along the waterfront and we would be inundated with weekend visitors mask free and paying to use the RV Park facilities. Time to go, as we were ready anyway to see more of the coast. 

Highway 200 runs down the coast from Puerto Vallarta and once it’s clear of the big city the pot holes disappear and the surface is smooth and just about perfect. The winding ribbon passes over rivers, mostly sand in dry season, through woods and past small settlements. “Stop!” Layne called out when she spotted water jugs. I got out our hose, as suggested by Bruce who said “siphon” when I used to struggle with a funnel to fill our water tank.  So now with minimal effort I siphon the purified drinking water from the five gallon jugs and it is so much easier. Then lunch which was two tacos each taken in the shade with Rusty watching the world at our side.

As we sat there sipping our Coke Zeros watching traffic buzz by on the highway I really felt I was where I should be. I enjoy the mystery of the unraveling road. I’m a bit ashamed to say it but I find driving much more relaxing than sailing and I love the opportunity to see the back country. 

Driving is like getting a chance to go backstage at a production where sailing down the coast is like watching the play from the front row. I’m curious about the life that goes on behind the lovely beaches. I also like navigating road hazards over sailing hazards I find. For instance after lunch I got to see this motorcycle delivery, a nothing moment in a nowhere town. Yet I  noticed the custom built rack to hold an ice chest perfectly on the machine. I never noticed such a smart accessory among the many delivery machines in Key West. 

After lunch we got back on the road and meandered south at 35 or 40 miles per hour. Google Maps said we had a half hour left to drive. We were half way to our next beach already. I think a lot about our sailing trip down this coast in 1998, how much the landscape has changed and how much I have changed. How much more serene I feel and how much less there is to prove as the years pass. 

“Stop!” My wife shouted as we sailed toward another roadside attraction. This one was whole roast chickens, something Layne has been craving since we arrived in Mexico a month ago. She crossed the street while Rusty and I mooched on our side of the highway. 

A mechanic was wrapping up a job for a customer.  A nearby bus shelter had been built using recycled materials by the energy company according to an engraved sign. Some guys were sitting in the shade waiting for Friday evening. They gave me a cheery greeting and a wave. Just another day in Mexico. 

Eight dollars for a full chicken dinner. Layne came back loaded with food and beaming. Google sent us down a dirt road (the shortest distance, not the smoothest we figured out afterwards!) and then got us back on smooth asphalt and then suddenly we were at the beach. Tons of food trucks and beach umbrellas greeted us. People were everywhere and it felt overwhelming. I drove on  by, hoping the iOverlander app was correct. Faced with a ghastly steep dusty hill I engaged the front wheel lock and gunned it. The hill is short and hard and separates the smaller quieter beach from the pandemonium of the main beach. 

We skidded and bounced and the tires scratched for grip in unison, the factory issued street tires, and up we went. Amazing ten thousand pound Promaster. We left a vast dust cloud in our wake, a dust storm of our own making…

We parked to one side overlooking the small bay called Isla Tenacatita and asked Carlos who rents tables and chairs if we were okay. He smiled and said of course. No problem. 

By 3:30 most people were leaving. We loaned Guillermo a Tervis tumbler as he hadn’t packed a glass for his picnic. After we swam he gave us Coronas and we chatted. He and his 30 something fiancée live in Guadalajara and he stays at his friends house on the beach from time to time and works remotely. We admired the beauty of the spot together. 

Our early dinner laid out below. Chicken coconut rice coleslaw two types of salsa tortillas and chips. Pacifico beers and we felt no pain. 

I read of icy conditions across the US and record cold weather in the Keys this weekend. For us the weekend is just two other days. For working Mexicans it’s a chance to enjoy (disfrutar) the beach and crowd our “private” spaces. For you it’s a chance to freeze. 

The weekend really does have meaning. Just not what it used to, happily.