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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.
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