Punta Perula greeted us with a beautiful sunrise lifting up over the mountains at the far left of the bay. We walked the beach as far as Cali was willing to go, which isn’t very far these days. I got quiet for a while before getting into action to close up shop and take our little road show to the next dot on the map. I settled up with Mike and said goodbyes to Susie and Lyman. I told him I had to get a shot of the beard before I hit the highway. I should have caught him yesterday when he was wandering around in his lava lava, he’s as classic as his aluminum box truck.
The driving was easy with little traffic and fairly decent road for most of the commute, a few potholes to dodge and topes whenever a small pueblo would come into view. I had heard there was surf out at Arroyos Secos, so when I reached the turn off I decided to go for an adventure. I’m only going an hour and a bit to Melaque, so I’ve got time to explore. The road was beaten and potholed old tar until it reached the tiny hamlet of Arroyo Seco where it became neatly laid old cobblestones for about five blocks before turning to dirt for the rest of the drive out to the beach.
It was about three miles of graded dirt through mango groves and stands of palm trees. A few low hanging branches would occasionally scrape the roof and there was one narrow dirt bridge over a small creek that was a little sketchy but we made it out to Playa Grande by taking it slow. A mile long stretch of beach lined with some beautiful homes, some older local places and a few empty lots. Everything is for sale. The neighborhood looked cool, but it was a ghost town. I saw maybe four people around the fifty or so buildings in the area. We parked in an opening fronting the beach and stepped out for a look around.
There were some fierce looking waves pounding the sand bars but nothing that looked too good for surfing. Rocky outcrops and waving palms decorated the landscape. I turned around and saw that Cali was doing the hot sand dance on the darker volcanic beach so I picked her up and carried her back to the grass. An idyllic tropical paradise but the emptiness of it was somehow spooky. No wonder everything is up for sale. That and the prospect of netting a quick overblown profit. The prices marked on a few properties were really over the top for the location.
We got ourselves turned around and headed back out to the highway and continued the half hour or so more into Melaque dodging the coconut trucks keeping the pace slower than most would like. As I pulled into town, there was a large tire shop on the left, so I stopped in and they agreed to rotate my tires for me. I’d stop earlier near Perula but the guy there wouldn’t give me the time of day. I removed the pressure sensors on the valves and Mario got on it. I walked to the grocery store and picked up a few items. When I got back I worked on the side he had finished changing tires on, putting the hubcaps back on and setting up the sensors. Soon, it was done and I was stoked to be able to scratch another task off of my list. I had noticed back in Guaymas that the front tires were showing a bit of the typical wear on the outside that Ford’s front truck suspension system is known for.
But a few short kilometers later I was parking up at Laguna Tule in a camp spot backing up onto the lagoon. It’s a narrow strip of land with the ocean on one side and the lagoon on the other. Lots of all winter RVers, mostly from BC. I set things up then the dog and I took it easy for the afternoon. As evening approached, I walked down along the lagoon hoping to see a crocodile. No crocs, but lots of birds and lush foilage. I hiked through the concession land to get a view of Barra de Navidad then back along the beach.
As the sun went down, a few of the Canadians sitting on the beach invited me to sit and watch the sunset. I petted their sheep dog and chatted as the sun turned red and receded behind the rock formations at the far end of the bay. A net fisherman was casting through the pounding surf careful to time his throws. Other tourists came out to catch the day’s final spasms of color. To get the full sunset into the sea, a hike a ways further down the beach is required to get an angle avoiding the rocks, so a cluster of sunset purists were gathered in a group a few hundred meters away. I decided to walk into town and get a bite to eat so I took my leave.
The walk was longer than I thought it would be but after a while I began seeing a few small comedors here and there. I picked Rosita’s just because I was getting tired of walking. A nice kid that spoke perfect English took my order then the death wait was on. Mostly gringo clientele, the small local style place had a casual charm. A street marimba guy rolled his instrument on rubber wheels and parked it up in front and played us a short set. I told him my niece plays marimba as I tossed a few pesos on his glass. It seemed to please him, I’m not sure if it was that my niece plays marimba or that I’d dropped a blue bank note in his jar. A half hour later, the food finally came and I ate about half before trudging the road of happy destiny back to the RV
Here’s one for Devon!