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.