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.