Paco’s

The morning started off with a bang. Literally, a procession from the church in Los Llanos was doing a pilgrimage around the pueblos blowing off tremendously loud sky rockets every few minutes. As we all know, Jesus loves a good explosion in the morning, a blessing for all of the animals. Luckily, Cali has progressed beyond the stage of caring anymore. A year ago, she would have been wound around the axle quivering like a bowl of Jell-O but today she pretty much ignored the hullabaloo. After they slowly filed past, I sat in the shade writing and getting quiet to start the day. Dave passed by from the house out on the road in. We talked for a while then I decided to bike into town to pick up my laundry from the lavanderia.

Adding new states!

The town was bustling with activity waiting for the procession to complete its rounds and return to the church and the main square where a big fiesta is scheduled to mark some religious occasion. Unfortunately, the power was out which meant that the ATM wouldn’t spit out any pesos to add to my wallet. I bought a few groceries at Paty’s then sat out in the shade in a plastic chair waiting for the pilgrims to come up the main street. As close as the bomb were sounding, I guess they were still a ways off. After about twenty minutes, I gave up, fetched my laundry and pedaled the 3 miles back to Paco’s.

Nice and sweaty from the effort in the sun and humidity, it was time for a surf out front. I had the best session of the trip, make that the best session in years. Four to five foot waves would peel for a hundred yards over the coral reef allowing for smooth cutbacks and flowing down the line off the tops. There was a bump on the water from the wind and the morning crew all paddled in leaving me and a woman from the rental homes to share sets without any competition. I surfed until my arms gave out from all of the long paddles. I rinsed and sat for lunch at Paco’s, a huarache with a thick home made tortilla.

Lots of lounging for the early afternoon. Then Paco’s family showed up for a big barbecue under the palapa adjacent to Wilson. I moved over to the restaurant palapa and sat in the shade reading and enjoying the cooling breezes. The shindig finished around six in the evening then six rumbling Harleys pulled up to the restaurant with leather vested bikers from Guanajuato. They sat in the restaurant drinking and carrying on. I moved back to Wilson and sat under the awning.

A little before sunset, I went for a walk up the beach to the north. Beautiful area. Lots of homes of the rich and famous line the beach fronting the long lefts of La Saladita. Pelicans were diving hard for fish and studiously avoiding the smaller birds that would try to steal their catch. The sun sank into the west as the break still had a few stragglers vying for a final wave in the dimming twilight.

The rich and famous

The not so rich nor famous

The bikers all moved over and set up tents under the palapa right next to me. Not too noisy though, just the occasional revving of an engine for no other apparent reason than to hear an engine roar. The blowing fan kept a decent background of white noise and I slept half way okay.