Mexican opinions about "the war on drugs"

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Sunday, 3/31

I arose an hour or two after dawn, and again hung around the trailer.  I’m starting to get comfortable with my routine, which doesn’t include camping on the islands.  For one thing, these islands are so barren there’s not much reason to spend time on them.  For another, I’m getting the best possible nighttime experience by paddling—much better than I would get spending the night on some barren shore.  And, I’m avoiding the hottest time of day, and sun, but leaving every afternoon.  You have to adapt to each environment, and this routine works here.

At 11:00, I left the trailer to have lunch at the food tent.  Grandfather Juan (60) was there.  I had the usual fresh fish tacos—batter fried fish strips, with a tomato/onion/cilantro salsa on top, maybe adding lettuce and cucumber, with a squeeze of lime or dash of roasted jalapeno salsa.  Served up with hot corn tortillas and a side of refried beans.

Juan’s daughter (the cook) showed me here pictures of an island to the north (Coronado) with white beaches.  She so had taken some photos of a whale shark.

I talked with Juan and his son Eric (a local “social” policeman) about the drug war.  I asked them if they thought now was a good time to stop the war on drugs.  They both agreed that it was, although that it was complicated.  Juan thought that the cartels were able to survive despite the attempted cackdown because of official corruption, which turned a blind eye.

Another young man joined in, who spoke fair English.  He also agreed with the proposition, and helped translate.  He said that he had lived in LA for many years, and had been engaged in crime, and then deported.  He said that if he went back (and he wanted to), that he would get 5 years in jail for illegal entry, so he was afraid to try, though he wanted to go back because much of his wife’s family was there, and because he wanted a better US education for his children. (Mexican public education is said to be poor, with corruption in the teacher’s union).  He had a dilemma, because he wanted to go back, but felt that it would be impossible with his criminal record in the US, where he spent some time in jail.

This young man spoke well of the US political system, in comparison to the Mexican.  He said that anyone, no matter how powerful, could be thrown in jail in the US—as evidenced by Bill Clinton.

The young man explained that now he was going straight, since he was married to a Cambodian woman, and had several young children.  He expressed a lot of affection for his son (about 5 yrs) who spoke very good English, and also Cambodian and Spanish.  When he was deported from the US, he arrived here with just the shirt on his back.  But now he was doing well as a speculator in real estate—that he owned 10 properties.  He sells to Mexicans, not Americans.

Grandfather Juan said that the Loreto municipal government was very corrupt—and he made gestures of passing money under the table.  He said that the Federal government said they wouldn’t give any more money to Loreto (…until they cleaned up their act, I presume).

Juan and several of his sons work as security people for an American named Dan Williams, a retired special forces soldier, about 80? Years old, who has a house worth millions in Loreto, and another mansion in Montana.  Williams owns a huge amount of land around Ligui, and has the concession on the beach.  (I believe that means he pays the govt to lease the beach area, and in turn he can use the beach for commercial purposes.)  It sounds like he’s the “Duke” of Loreto, or at least of Ligui.

How fish escape in the dark

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Saturday 3/30

Today I socialized with my neighbors, who invited me over.  We talked about where I lived, and my drive here, and other simple things, like what the most expensive bottle of whisky in the world might cost.  The night before, I had been explaining to the men of that group a lot about kayaking.  They weren’t aware of the bioluminescence, but seemed interested.

I had asked them if they wanted to try the kayak.  They had taken a picture of one of the men sitting in my kayak, but they seemed timid about trying it.  One man explained that he was completely out of condition.  He also said he might roll over and drown.

This group was composed of two related men and their wives and children.  One family had two younger children, and the other, three older girls, up to the oldest, who was 17 (the one who had been washing her hair).   As before, she seemed pretty disengaged from the group and disinterested in the conversation.  I was surprised to learn that she spoke passable English, but expressed no interest whatsoever in practicing it.  When she spoke, she seemed competent and mature.  Her family said she wanted to become a dentist.  She was now in preparatory school (aftersecondary school, the last years of high school), and was going to go to college in Ensenada.  She said that studying to be a dentist would take 6 years.  I told her about my daughter, who is a dentist.

We helped a nearby camper get his truck unstuck from the sand.

The family explained that another vehicle owner who they had helped had given them a large bucket of oranges for thanks—oranges grown only a little to the south on Baja.  They have me 8 oranges to take home, and we said goodbye.

I set out again for Danzante in early afternoon.  I took everything I needed to spend the night.  The crossing was nearly windless and hot—and when I got to the island, I was too hot to do much.  I ate, put my bottle of beer in the cool water of the beach to chill, and then just sat and vegetated. 

After a while, a small boat with 10 people approached and landed, and I went over to talk.  They were very friendly.  It turns out they were camped on the opposite side of the island, and had come around for a change of scene.  They were two families—a man with his brother in law, and their families.  This group was more active.  The woman went down the shore, looking for shells to make jewelry with.  Some of the children went snorkeling, or played rambunctiously, splashing one another.  Then three of them went of with a sack, a stick, and their snorkel gear—to catch something.  Evidently they did—putting things in the sack with much squealing.

When I asked them what they caught, they said “sea urchins” (erizo).  The were going to eat them raw with some lime and hot sauce.  The men implied that they would make you very “hot,” and that I should try one.  I declined.  They invited me to their camp on the other side for clams, but I never made it.  After an hour or so, the ten of them left in the small boat, waving, loaded almost to sinking up to the gunwhales.

Later when I did pass their camp, it was dark, and I was afraid that I would scare them if I approached their camp out of the dark, since my kayak makes no noise. 

I took a long swim, and had a beer.  It was now getting a little cooler.  I noticed some aggressive bees today, in place of the aggressive wasps who had been bothering me here a few days ago.  (I think the wasps were laying low, since the bees were on the prowl.) I heard a lot of buzzing, and traced it to a swarm of honeybees, who had exited their overfilled hive, and were now looking for a new hive location.  They were buzzed back and forth in front of my face, threateningly, but I wasn’t stung.  I guessed that they are the African variety of honeybees.  Some began to investigate my empty beer bottle with great enthusiasm, crawling inside the entrance.  At first I assumed they were after the beer, for food or drink, but then I realized they were checking out this opening, to see if it would make a good home for the hive.  They investigated the bottle with urgency, and what looked like a kind of intelligence.

Heading north along the E side of the island, I planned to circumnavigate it again.  I stopped to look at the Sally lightfoot crabs, which are social, found nearly always in groups.  I fenced with them with my paddle.  A beautiful sunset caught up with me before I rounded the north side of the island.  I reached the little canal shortcut in the dark, and found it only with difficulty.  Already the bio luminescence was starting, and the was only starting to get dark.

Tonight around the island, the luminescence was the best I’ve seen it.  I’ll describe some of the things you can see, and the different types of fish, based on their behavior.

Some places are just teeming with luminescence, almost eager to explode with light, given the slightest disturbance.  In these places, you can see a spontaneous twinkling at all depths in the water.  When I shine my flashlight here, you can see little skinny fish, about half an inch long (or less), plus some other smaller things (crustacean?), swimming around rapidly.  They are attracted to my flashlight.

Today when swimming, the water visibility wasn’t very good, and I think it’s because the water is so fertile with organisms of all kinds.

Some places are more fertile--and more luminescent—than others.  In these places, my wake is especially bright, and even gently rocking the kayak sets the ripples to glowing.  If you drop a single drop from my paddle into the water, I can see a spreading ring of light, just as you would see the circular ripple in daylight.

If I splash my paddle, for course all the drops create little splashes of light.  But these droplets scare the small fish, who rush away, and create a further wave of fainter light spreading off into the darkness with the speed of a gust of wind.

I can distinguish at least three different kinds of fish based on their evasive behavior when scared in the dark.

Fish type 1 is usually found alone, away from shore.  They rush away with great speed, as straight as an arrow, near the surface or just on top of the water, leaving a straight track of light.  They always go away at 4:00 o’clock or 8:00 (with my bow as midnight).  This orientation suggests they sense the pressure wave of my boat, and orient at right angles to the wave—a good strategy for getting out of the way of a predator.

Fish type 2 are found in groups not far from shore.  They suddenly explode with a burst of speed to escape from under the front of my boat.   They don’t go entirely straight—sometimes curving a bit—and not so far.  But their explosive burst—all at once—can be a big surprise.  One group exploded from the tip of my bow in all directions, looking just like a bursting white fireworks display, with my kayak in the dark shaped like the fireworks rocket.  These fish apparently go part of their way in the air—which allows them to move faster.  You can hear them skipping across the surface.  One wacked into my boat.  It wasn’t just a dull, rubbery thud, as you might expect.  But it sounded hard a a rock, making a sharp cracking sound the the fiberglass.  These fish can be heard sometimes disturbing the surface in front of you, so you suspect they may be there.  If you sneak up on them, and slapthe side of the kayak, they sometimes explode in a starburst on hearding the sound.

Fish type 3 is also found in groups near shore.  These seem about the size of a squirrel, making a trail of stardust in the water somewhat larger.  They take avery zig-zag course, stopping briefly, then continuing for a short distance in another direction.  It looked as if they were stopping to hide on the bottom a few feet down, but when I put my paddle down all the way, I couild not feel the bottom.  When I withdrew it, there was something cold, wet, and spiny on the paddle.  I was scared out of my wits for a moment, but it turned out only to be a large piece of seaweed.

Fish type 4 is not very common.  They are found alone away from shore.  They may be squid, because when they shoot off in one direction to the side, they leave a trail on the opposite side of the kayak as well.  Perhaps the second track is their jet of water, stimulating the luminescence just as their passage does.

Fish type 5 is the “bump in the night.”  Once, crossing the open channel, I felt the boat give a heave, as if something very large like a dolphin had passed close under the kayak.  Or, it may have been an unusual wave, though the sea was very calm.

Fish type 6 is seen close to shore.  Sometimes, I see large luminous shapes under the kayak, kind of like ghosts.  They move slowly without a track, and are gone.  Perhaps they are manta rays, or they may be  boulders illuminated by many small critters on their surface.

Sometimes a dark shape passes close overhead.  I don’t know if these are owls, or just seabirds coming home late from a night at the cantina.  I have seen night herons in the area during the daytime.  Paddling close to shore, I did disturb something that flew away with loud “GROKs” and GRAAKs.  A resting blue heron, no doubt.

Passing close to the cliffs, I can hear crickets singing—several kinds—the same songs as we hear at home, but nowhere near so numberous.  Sometimes, I get strong whiffs of a very sweet blossom, where in daytime the cliffs seemed burned and barren as cinders from Hell.

In the starlight before the waning moon will rise, it’s dark, but not black.  The towers of the island stand out as pure black against the dark grey of the sky and water.   Against the black silhouette and reflection of the island, it’s the darkest, and the luminescence is most visible.  I can tell when I’m getting too close to shore, because I can hear the waves lapping.  I never hit a rock.  Other than the waves, the only sounds are the occasional mewings of romantic sea gulls.

The temperature was just perfect for a single shirt and light exercise.  The slightst of breezes.  The water was a mirror for the stars.  This is one of the premiere nighttime adventures for anyone who loves water, and loves the night.

On my return around 11:00 pm, things were more quiet than the preceding night, which seemed to be the culmination of the holidays on the beach.  Some tents had packed up and left.  The beach quieted down at an earlier hour.  I’m going to miss all the hustle, bustle, and whoopla.

Safety

Lest readers think I’m oblivious to danger, here are precautions I follow. First of all, I know the area, and the configuration of lights on shore, where home lies.  (A map or satellite navigator would be a must if I didn’t know the area).  I know the currents, and there is only one shoal.  I have camping gear, food, and enough water for four days, in case I can’t make it home.   I have two flashlights, one a headlamp with blinking red lights, which I light if I hear any boats approaching.  I have a weather report, and respect the strong winds, which can come up suddenly.  I’m carrying all the usual safety gear, available from my cockpit, and most of it is attached to the kayak with cord, so it can’t drift away if I capsize.   I also have a marine radio (which can send my GPS location) , plus a personal locator beacon.  There are numerous strips of reflective tape on my kayak.

More night paddling--How fish escape

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Saturday 3/30

Today I socialized with my clean neighbors, who invited me over.  We talked about where I lived, and the drive, and other simple things, like what the most expensive bottle of whisky might cost.  The night before, I had been explaining to the men of that group a lot about kayaking.  They weren’t aware of the bioluminescence, but seemed interested.

I had asked them if they wanted to try the kayak.  They had taken a picture of one of the men sitting in my kayak, but they seemed timid about trying it.  One man explained that he was completely out of condition.  He also said he might roll over and drown.

This group was composed of two related men and their wives and children.  One family had two younger children, and the other, three older girls, up to the oldest, who was 17 (the one who had been washing her hair).   As before, she seemed pretty disengaged from the group and disinterested in the conversation.  I was surprised to learn that she spoke passable English, but expressed no interest whatsoever in practicing it.  When she spoke, she seemed competent and mature.  Her family said she wanted to become a dentist.  She was now in preparatory school (after secondary school, the last years of high school), and was going to go to college in Ensenada.  She said that studying to be a dentist would take 6 years.  I told her about Lisa.

We helped a nearby camper get his truck unstuck from the sand.  The family explained that another vehicle owner who they had helped had given them a large bucket of oranges for thanks—oranges grown only a little to the south on Baja.  They have me about 8 oranges to take home, and we said goodbye

I set out again for Danzante in early afternoon.  I took everything I needed to spend the night.  The crossing was nearly windless and hot—and when I got to the island, I was too hot to do much.  I ate, put my bottle of beer in the cool water of the beach to chill, and then just sat and vegetated. 

After a while, a small boat with 10 people approached and landed, and I went over to talk.  They were very friendly.  It turns out they were camped on the opposite side of the island, and had come around for a change of scene.  They were two families—a man with his brother in law, and their families.  This group was more active.  The woman went down the shore, looking for shells to make jewelry with.  Some of the children went snorkeling, or played rambunctiously, splashing one another.  Then three of them went of with a sack, a stick, and their snorkel gear—to catch something.  Evidently they did—putting things in the sack with much squealing.

When I asked them what they caught, they said “sea urchins” (erizo).  The were going to eat them raw with some lime and hot sauce.  The men implied that they would make you very “hot,” and that I should try one.  I declined.  They invited me to their camp on the other side for clams, but I never made it.  After an hour or so, the ten of them left in the small boat, waving, loaded almost to sinking up to the gunwales. Later when I did pass their camp, it was dark, and I was afraid that I would scare them if I approached their camp out of the dark, since my kayak makes no noise. 

I took a long swim, and had a beer.  It was now getting a little cooler.  I noticed some aggressive bees today, in place of the aggressive wasps who had been bothering me here a few days ago.  (I think the wasps were laying low, since the bees were on the prowl.) I heard a lot of buzzing, and traced it to a swarm of honeybees, who had exited their overfilled hive, and were now looking for a new hive location.  They were buzzed back and forth in front of my face, threateningly, but I wasn’t stung.  I guessed that they are the African variety of honeybees.  Some began to investigate my empty beer bottle with great enthusiasm, crawling inside the entrance.  At first I assumed they were after the beer, for food or drink, but then I realized they were checking out this opening, to see if it would make a good home for the hive.  They investigated the bottle with urgency, and what looked like a kind of intelligence.

Heading north along the E side of the island, I planned to circumnavigate it again.  I stopped to look at the Sally lightfoot crabs, which are social, found nearly always in groups.  I fenced with them with my paddle.  A beautiful sunset caught up with me before I rounded the north side of the island.  I reached the little canal shortcut in the dark, and found it only with difficulty.  Already the bio luminescence was starting, and the was only starting to get dark.

Tonight around the island, the luminescence was the best I’ve seen it.  I’ll describe some of the things you can see, and the different types of fish, based on their behavior.

Some places are just teeming with luminescence, almost eager to explode with light, given the slightest disturbance.  In these places, you can see a spontaneous twinkling at all depths in the water.  When I shine my flashlight here, you can see little skinny fish, about half an inch long (or less), plus some other smaller things (crustacean?), swimming around rapidly.  They are attracted to my flashlight.  Today when swimming, the water visibility wasn’t very good, and I think it’s because the water is so fertile with organisms of all kinds.  Some places are more fertile--and more luminescent—than others.  In these places, my wake is especially bright, and even gently rocking the kayak sets the ripples to glowing.  If you drop a single drop from my paddle into the water, I can see a spreading ring of light, just as you would see the circular ripple in daylight.  If I splash my paddle, for course all the drops create little splashes of light.  But these droplets scare the small fish, who rush away, and create a further wave of fainter light spreading off into the darkness with the speed of a gust of wind.

I can distinguish at least three different kinds of fish based on their evasive behavior when scared in the dark.

Fish type 1 is usually found alone, away from shore.  They rush away with great speed, as straight as an arrow, near the surface or just on top of the water, leaving a straight track of light.  They always go away at 4:00 o’clock or 8:00 (with my bow as midnight).  This orientation suggests they sense the pressure wave of my boat, and orient at right angles to the wave—a good strategy for getting out of the way of a predator.

Fish type 2 are found in groups not far from shore.  They suddenly explode with a burst of speed to escape from under the front of my boat.   They don’t go entirely straight—sometimes curving a bit—and not so far.  But their explosive burst—all at once—can be a big surprise.  One group exploded from the tip of my bow in all directions, looking just like a bursting white fireworks display, with my kayak in the dark shaped like the fireworks rocket.  These fish apparently go part of their way in the air—which allows them to move faster.  You can hear them skipping across the surface.  One whacked into my boat.  It wasn’t just a dull, rubbery thud, as you might expect.  But it sounded hard a a rock, making a sharp cracking sound the the fiberglass.  These fish can be heard sometimes disturbing the surface in front of you, so you suspect they may be there.  If you sneak up on them, and slap the side of the kayak, they sometimes explode in a starburst on hearing the sound.

Fish type 3 is also found in groups near shore.  These seem about the size of a squirrel, making a trail of stardust in the water somewhat larger.  They take very zig-zag course, stopping briefly, then continuing for a short distance in another direction.  It looked as if they were stopping to hide on the bottom a few feet down, but when I put my paddle down all the way, I could not feel the bottom.  When I withdrew it, there was something cold, wet, and spiny on the paddle.  I was scared out of my wits for a moment, but it turned out only to be a large piece of seaweed.

Fish type 4 is not very common.  They are found alone away from shore.  They may be squid, because when they shoot off in one direction to the side, they leave a trail on the opposite side of the kayak as well.  Perhaps the second track is their jet of water, stimulating the luminescence just as their passage does.

Fish type 5 is the “bump in the night.”  Once, crossing the open channel, I felt the boat give a heave, as if something very large like a dolphin had passed close under the kayak.  Or, it may have been an unusual wave, though the sea was very calm.

Fish type 6 is seen close to shore.  Sometimes, I see large luminous shapes under the kayak, kind of like ghosts.  They move slowly without a track, and are gone.  Perhaps they are manta rays, or they may be  boulders illuminated by many small critters on their surface.

Sometimes a dark shape passes close overhead.  I don’t know if these are owls, or just seabirds coming home late from a night at the cantina.  I have seen night herons in the area during the daytime.  Paddling close to shore, I did disturb something that flew away with loud “GROKs” and GRAAKs.  A resting blue heron, no doubt.

Passing close to the cliffs, I can hear crickets singing—several kinds—the same songs as we hear at home, but nowhere near so numerous.  Sometimes, I get strong whiffs of a very sweet blossom, where in daytime the cliffs seemed burned and barren as cinders from Hell. 

In the starlight before the waning moon will rise, it’s dark, but not black.  The towers of the island stand out as pure black against the dark grey of the sky and water.   Against the black silhouette and reflection of the island, it’s the darkest, and the luminescence is most visible.  I can tell when I’m getting too close to shore, because I can hear the waves lapping.  I never hit a rock.  Other than the waves, the only sounds are the occasional mewings of romantic sea gulls.

The temperature was just perfect for a single shirt and light exercise.  The slightest of breezes.  The water was a mirror for the stars.  This is one of the premiere nighttime adventures for anyone who loves water, and loves the night.

On my return around 11:00 pm, things were more quiet than the preceding night, which seemed to be the culmination of the holidays on the beach.  Some tents had packed up and left.  The beach quieted down at an earlier hour.  I’m going to miss all the hustle, bustle, and hoopla.

Safety for night paddling

Lest readers think I’m oblivious to danger, here are precautions I follow. First of all, I know the area, and the configuration of lights on shore, where home lies.  (A map or satellite navigator would be a must if I didn’t know the area).  I know the currents, and there is only one shoal.  I have camping gear, food, and enough water for four days, in case I can’t make it home.   I have two flashlights, one a headlamp with blinking red lights, which I light if I hear any boats approaching.  I have a weather report, and respect the strong winds, which can come up suddenly.  I’m carrying all the usual safety gear, available from my cockpit, and most of it is attached to the kayak with cord, so it can’t drift away if I capsize.   I also have a marine radio (which can send my GPS location) , plus a personal locator beacon.  There are numerous strips of reflective tape on my kayak.

Mexicans enjoying the beach

Friday 3/29

I was tired from a long paddle last night, and it’s too hot and too sunny to do much.  I cleaned up the trailer, listened to music, and worked on pictures.

When I first opened the trailer door, I wondered: “What am I doing here?”  This is not wilderness campsite.  Yet a mile away, on Danzante Island, is the most perfect wilderness.  And hardly anyone is there.  Maybe two camping tents, and a couple of yachts in the little cove to the north.    I’m not chained to this spot, except maybe by the heat (or if too much wind).  I can always escape to the wilderness, as I have every day.  And if someone is playing their radio too loud nearby, I can always practice my Spanish on the words of the songs.

I talked briefly to two of the local police--Senor Cervantes, and Eric.  They work for the Loreto “Social Police.”  This—they explained--is a force that’s supposed to be more friendly and approachable.  I showed them my personal locator beacon, that sends my position along with an SOS via satellite, and they hadn’t heard of such a thing, and were quite interested.

I watched children come and go from my window.  After noon, they had trouble walking on the hot sand, and would stop to rest on their way to the beach in the shade of my trailer.  The family camped next to me has a large sun awning, and they sleep in a huge tent, the size of a garage, with large windows that can be rolled up.  It has a metal frame, and the shape of a bungalow. 

I’m amazed at how similar people are all over the world.  You can see similarities and difference.  On the similar side, I saw at a distance six teenage girls, with long black hair, sitting in the water, in a shallow stream where the ocean enters a shallow lagoon.  It could have been a scene painted in the 1600s, of wood nymphs bathing in some sylvan glen.

What’s similar about Mexicans is that they enjoy the beach—with all that entails including swimming, fires, fireworks, and picnics.  They also like their freedom.  Everyone selects their spot on the beach and does what they please, including riding ATVs about (without mufflers) and playing their radios loudly.  At night, there’s a lot of whooping and hollering.  But there do seem to be many unspoken rules—and although there is a tent with police near the entrance, they never seem to be needed for anything.

What’s different is that Mexicans are far more communal and family-oriented than Americans.  Each group on the beach is really an extended family—some very large and extended, and others smaller, down to a single pair.  They are very centered around food.

For example, the second-closest group to me has a large windscreen/sunshade strung on a metal frame, with a small tent nearby.  When the windscreen blew down, I could see inside that they had a full-size kitchen stove inside!  That eliminates any need for a table or bending over to cook.  Probably this is the stove from their kitchen.  No matter how heavy, they bring things—tables, chairs, stoves, huge tents, canopies, and jugs of water big enough to swim in, all loaded into a pickup truck.

Even when the young kids venture as far as the lagoon, they go in groups of 3-5 or more.  Usually without adult accompaniment, but probably an older child is in charge.   Even swimming is in groups.  Until today, there hasn’t been much swimming, but today is hot, and there’s a moderate number in the water.   I see one group of seven, probably teens, in a close group way out in the shallow water.  They are just standing or sitting in the water, talking and occasionally splashing one another.  Earlier, I saw one or two out with a snorkel and mask.  I saw one jet-ski yesterday, but it was going at an idling speed, probably following the rules.

Now at 4:15 pm, the sun isn’t so hot, though the air is still a bit much for me.  There’s another group of 7 smaller children headed out into the shallow water.  They are in a fairly tight group.  As is typical, an older girl (maybe 8) is holding the hand of a much smaller girl, maybe 3-4.

At 4:50, a small motorboat with maybe a 25 horse motor pulls a child at moderate speed around as he clings to a large donut-shaped beach toy.

Except for the inflatable beach toys, there aren’t any expensive toys like sailboards, jet-skis, kite boards, or kayaks.  ATVs are the only toys, and they are of course useful here in getting stuff to the beach.  I saw only one “muscle boat” brought in yesterday, towed by Mexicans in a big and expensive new pickup truck.  It launched and disappeared.  The local fishermen are launching their boats, with more than the usual 2 fishermen of a commercial trip.  Probably they are taking their relatives for a ride or for fishing, or possibly people for hire.

Some of the little children have several big inflatable toys, like a giant penguin double the size of the child.

You don’t see much activity.  People are sitting around their large folding banquet tables, snacking and talking, and listening to Mexican music.   I haven’t heard any American pop tunes.

There are at least two food tents.  One put up by Tecate beer is serving snacks, though I can’t figure out what the snacks are.  Another near me serves both meals and snacks like hot dogs.  The cotton candy truck goes by once a day, and the man with the ice cream push cart goes by ringing his bell.

Probably the majority of people here are middle-class Mexicans, many from Loreto.  Some of them have family members living in the village here of Ligui.  There are about three other trailers—but owned by Mexicans.  As far as I can tell, I’m the only foreigner here.  This is a very Mexican place and holiday.

When I came ashore last night, I noticed a lot of little wet spots in the sand, including one right next to my car.  But on the whole, things are pretty clean, considering the hundreds of people here.  A garbage truck goes by and collects bags from various camping groups. There are several garbage cans, and three port-a-potties.  Two years ago, there were no port-a-potties, and you could see a regular procession of people headed, often with a little child and TP in one hand, headed into the brush.  It must have been pretty ripe back there, at the end of the holidays.

The family camped next to me has an idiosyncratic style.  They’re the ones with the huge bungalow tent, with two newish pickup trucks and a large new utility ATV.  They are well dressed, well-groomed, at least the women are.  They have been subdued most of the day, just sitting around the table, hardly talking.

They have a family ritual where they use a large jug of fresh water in the back of the pickup truck to wash one another, usually the hair or feet.

At 5:30, the family is starting to lighten up a bit.  Some new members have arrived, and a guy in a red t-shirt and straw cowboy hat is more animated.     Now the cleanliness ritual expands.  Several people get out rakes and smooth out the sand around their area.  Now they are pitching a small dome tent for the new arrivals.  Eight people are doing it together, laughing.  Most are just watching, with about 2 doing the real work.  Even pitching a tent is communal.

At 6:00 pm, there’s now a group of 10 people of all ages standing in the water thigh deep, standing in a circle, bouncing a volleyball around the circle.

Towards evening, I paddled north along the shore, and then back in the dark, looking for bio luminescence.  I thought I heard dolphins breathing again, but never saw them.  I paddled back in the dark.

Mexican vacation in full swing at Playa Ligui

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Friday 3/29

I was tired from a long paddle last night, and it’s too hot and too sunny to do much.  I cleaned up the trailer, listened to music, and worked on pictures.

When I first opened the trailer door, I wondered: “What am I doing here?”  This is not wilderness campsite.  Yet a mile away, on Danzante Island, is the most perfect wilderness.  And hardly anyone is there.  Maybe two camping tents, and a couple of yachts in the little cove to the north.    I’m not chained to this spot, except maybe by the heat (or if too much wind).  I can always escape to the wilderness, as I have every day.  And if someone is playing their radio too loud nearby, I can always practice my Spanish on the words of the songs.

I talked briefly to two of the local police, Sr. Cervantes and Eric.  They work for the Loreto “Social Police.”  This—they explained--is a force that’s supposed to be more friendly and approachable.  I showed them my personal locator beacon, that sends my position along with an SOS via satellite, and they hadn’t heard of such a thing, and were quite interested.

I watched children come and go from my window.  After noon, they had trouble walking on the hot sand, and would stop to rest on their way to the beach in the shade of my trailer.  The family camped next to me has a large sun awning, and they sleep in a huge tent, the size of a garage, with large windows that can be rolled up.  It has a metal frame, and the shape of a bungalow. 

I’m amazed at how similar people are all over the world.  You can see similarities and difference.  On the similar side, I saw at a distance six teenage girls, with long black hair, sitting in the water, in a shallow stream where the ocean enters a shallow lagoon.  It could have been a scene painted in the 1600s, of wood nymphs bathing in some sylvan glen, with some god spying on them--instead of me spying from my trailer window.

What’s similar about Mexicans is that they enjoy the beach—with all that entails including swimming, fires, fireworks, and picnics.  They also like their freedom.  Everyone selects their spot on the beach and does what they please, including riding ATVs about (without mufflers) and playing their radios loudly.  At night, there’s a lot of whooping and hollering.  But there do seem to be many unspoken rules—and although there is a tent with police near the entrance, they never seem to be needed for anything.

What’s different is that Mexicans are far more communal and family-oriented than Americans.  Each group on the beach is really an extended family—some very large and extended, and others smaller, down to a single pair.  They are very centered around food.  For example, the second-closest group to me has a large windscreen/sunshade strung on a metal frame, with a small tent nearby.  When the windscreen blew down, I could see inside that they had a full-size kitchen stove inside!  That eliminates any need for a table or bending over to cook.  Probably this is the stove from their kitchen.  No matter how heavy, they bring things—tables, chairs, stoves, huge tents, canopies, and jugs of water big enough to swim in, all loaded into a pickup truck.

Even when the young kids venture as far as the lagoon, they go in groups of 3-5 or more.  Usually without adult accompaniment, but probably an older child is in charge.   Even swimming is in groups.  Until today, there hasn’t been much swimming, but today is hot, and there’s a moderate number in the water.   I see one group of seven, probably teens, in a close group way out in the shallow water.  They are just standing or sitting in the water, talking and occasionally splashing one another.  Earlier, I saw one or two out with a snorkel and mask.  I saw one jet-ski yesterday, but it was going at an idling speed, probably following the rules.

Now at 4:15 pm, the sun isn’t so hot, though the air is still a bit much for me.  There’s another group of 7 smaller children headed out into the shallow water.  They are in a fairly tight group.  As is typical, an older girl (maybe 8) is holding the hand of a much smaller girl, maybe 3-4.

At 4:50, a small motorboat with maybe a 25 horse motor pulls a child at moderate speed around as he clings to a large do-nut-shaped beach toy.

Except for the inflatable beach toys, there aren’t any expensive toys like sailboards, jet-skis, kite boards, or kayaks.  ATVs are the only toys, and they are of course useful here in getting stuff to the beach.  I saw only one “muscle boat” brought in yesterday, towed by Mexicans in a big and expensive new pickup truck.  It launched and disappeared.  The local fishermen are launching their boats, with more than the usual 2 fishermen of a commercial trip.  Probably they are taking their relatives for a ride or for fishing, or possibly people for hire.

Some of the little children have several big inflatable toys, like a giant penguin double the size of the child.  You don’t see much activity.  Mexicans are about as obese as Americans.   People are sitting around their large folding banquet tables, snacking and talking, and listening to Mexican music.   I haven’t heard any American pop tunes.

There are at least two food tents.  One put up by Tecate beer is serving snacks, though I can’t figure out what the snacks are.  Another near me serves both meals and snacks like hot dogs.  The cotton candy truck goes by once a day, and the man with the ice cream push cart goes by ringing his bell.

Probably the majority of people here are middle class Mexicans, many from Loreto.  Some of them have family members living in the village here of Ligui.  There are about three other trailers—but owned by Mexicans.  As far as I can tell, I’m the only foreigner here.  This is a very Mexican place and holiday.

When I came ashore last night, I noticed a lot of little wet spots in the sand, including one right next to my car.  But on the whole, things are pretty clean, considering the hundreds of people here.  A garbage truck goes by and collects bags from various camping groups. There are several garbage cans, and three port-a-potties.  Two years ago, there were no port-a-potties, and you could see a regular procession of people headed, often with a little child and TP in one hand, headed into the brush.  It must have been pretty ripe back there, at the end of the holidays.

The family camped next to me has an idiosyncratic style.  They’re the ones with the huge bungalow tent, with two newish pickup trucks and a large new utility ATV.  They are well dressed, well-groomed, at least the women are.  They have been subdued most of the day, just sitting around the table, hardly talking.

They have a family ritual where they use a large jug of fresh water in the back of the pickup truck to wash one another, usually the hair or feet.

At 5:30, the family is starting to lighten up a bit.  Some new members have arrived, and a guy in a red t-shirt and straw cowboy hat is more animated.     Now the cleanliness ritual expands.  Several people get out rakes and smooth out the sand around their area.  Now they are pitching a small dome tent for the new arrivals.  Eight people are doing it together, laughing.  Most are just watching, with about 2 doing the real work.  Even pitching a tent is communal.

At 6:00 pm, there’s now a group of 10 people of all ages standing in the water thigh deep, standing in a circle, bouncing a volleyball around the circle.

Towards evening, I paddled north along the shore, and then back in the dark, looking for bio luminescence.  I thought I heard dolphins breathing again, but never saw them.  I paddled back in the dark.