People Fishing

Meet Tonino and his grandson Yantzen. They came by our beach (“our beach”!) to say hello. Tonino owns the fishing camp palapa behind our van and he invited us to use them if we feel like it. Pretty decent. 

Toby is his dog who was glad of a cookie and two bowls of water after his run behind the motorcycle. Rusty inspected him and got suitably grumpy. Toby as a puppy was dumped by a military patrol camped here who left him behind when they moved on.  Tonino adopted him. 

Two other dogs showed up and we managed to get them some food despite Rusty’s irritation. They were sweet but shy and honestly not terribly hungry interestingly enough. 

Not a bad view, even though swimming is going to be awkward with swells and shallow water a long way out! Typical Pacific Ocean swells. 

Rusty and I went for a morning walk and I was intrigued to check out the approach road.  My eyes are glued to the surface when I drive these dirt tracks obviously but walking with camera I wanted to look around and see what I had missed. 

A slick use for trash bottles added to the tidy cared-for appearance of the first house we passed. No sign of life but Rusty wasn’t buying; he went no further worried no doubt about local dog ambushes. My tough scrapper. 

I met a guy sitting astride his motorcycle rather glumly so I said good morning (“Buenas!”) and he explained he was waiting for his buddy who dropped something while they were up the beach but didn’t seem to be coming back. His slump was explained by the fact they caught nothing. I forgot to make a picture till he was putt - putting off down the sandy lane back to his home in Dimas…

We decided it was time to air out the bedding and clean the sleeping compartment, known as a bedroom

to some of you wastrels with separate rooms in your mansions. 

Plus I got out my grabber tool from

my days in the hospital when I couldn’t pull up the blanket without help, never mind reach my distant cellphone while lying on my back. I wandered around the van picking up dorito packets and soda bottles, discarded masks and mysterious wads of paper towels. I had local support (basura means trash) as the sign said don’t dump or burn trash on my private property: 

It was a spot worth cleaning up for half an hour. For those of us from Up North watching Tonino unwrap a candy for his grandson and toss the wrapper on the ground is an act of vandalism. Around here it’s the cost of freedom. So I clean for my pleasure. In the US if you find trash and clean it up, the odds are even it will stay that way.  Here? Five minutes after we are gone it will revert. It’s a fact of Mexican life. 

Tonino came back and did a beach patrol on his feisty horse, clearly a local bigwig. He offered us the use of his fish camp shelters and grill fireplace behind our van. A decent sort I would say! 

We aired everything out, sorted our winter clothes and buried them in compartments under our bed and reversed our cotton sleeping bag for summer use. We have left winter behind. At last. 

Layne pulled out another of her innumerable tools and kitchen appliances and made smoothies for lunch. The temperature gauge in the cabin shows 95 degrees much cooled by Pacific Ocean breezes. 

Ron who we met in San Carlos showed up, the man from Iowa. The day devolved into much chat and lounging around. As you do. 

He had stopped on the way for beer and tortillas and happened across shrimp ceviche for his lunch. 

Our spot is Grand Central Station-everyone passes by here including two guys collecting…rocks? Later Tonino explained they were paving a parking lot with them. 

I immediately wanted to swap GANNET2 for their motor tricycle. 

Rusty is well settled into life as a traveling dog. A morning walk, an evening walk and a day of lounging around camp. He yawns in the morning as he used to when it was  time for our morning walk before my commute. Nowadays he yawns and Layne let’s him out to start his day earlier than us. His wild roots show all the time. He loves the outdoors sitting around watching the world go by. 

A new palapa (palm thatched hut without walls) was starting construction down the beach. My telephoto lens was at full stretch for this one: 

The sand is soft enough here to swallow a Promaster and soft enough to force them to park down the beach and carry the logs up the sand. Not easy work for these stereotypically lazy Mexicans- and not a sombrero in sight. 

Tonino came back on his bike accompanied by Toby and he picked up a log for his grill at his fish camp palapa behind our van. 

Some random dude going for a ride on a beach. Imagine being able to do this when you feel like in the US…

We are neither of us equipped for beach driving..,

Our old nemesis the foggy cool marine inversion layer above the cold waters of the Pacific is back. One of the reasons I left California for Florida. 

It looks like rain but after the sun has safely set the clouds blow off and the stars come out. 

And one final fisherman of the day boasting enormous success. Three fish- big smile, when off camera he was smiling like a man in love. 

There endeth another serene day at the beach aboard GANNET2. A trawling trawling slowly offshore. 

A young couple in love, I hope trawling all day in the beach. 

The internet signal gets weak sometimes here and screwed up my first attempt to post which I hope explains the pictures without words if you noticed them earlier. Also we are on mountain time in Sinaloa so even though ships time is Key West things happen a little later in my life now!