Nov. 21WHY?' you might ask am I at the posh Grand Bay Hotel in Barra Navidad and not on the boat ... which is laying on its side in the sand and disappearing water, at the entrance to the shallow anchorage just past the marina. After several hours of unsuccessful attempts, Sharon and I bailed on the guys and our Titanic-like existence and opted for the luxury and upright life of a five star hotel. More on that later - in the meantime here are my notes from the past few days:
Nov 19 a.m.
It is glassy calm this morning. We are readying - unhurriedly - for our jungle cruise. Beneath the surface of the slick water unseen threats send flying fish flying ... joining the many butterflies in the steamy tropical air. Our friendly dolphins (Nic and Nac, I have named them: the former having a very chewed-off dorsal fin) are nowhere to be seen, but there are two new boats in the anchorage for them to ply their apparent curiosity on.
p.m.
After a lazy morning we finally set off on our jungle expedition. Our first challenge was getting the dinghy through the surf at the north end of the beach, which is hemmed with rocks where cormorants perch in Batman poses (on the left) and shoaling (on the right). Ah yes we got pretty drenched in the process but didn't flip, leaping out into the swiftly running current and alternately dragging and gunning the dinghy ('GRRAR, GRRAR, GRRAR!" as it chewed up the sand) about 1/4 mile through the breakers and up the stream.
Around the bend the water spread out into a lagoon, and a fisherman pointed the best route - 'el centro' - for our putter upstream. The pond was bathed in sun; lime green dragonflies dive-bombed the surface of the water while crazy fish (mullets?) rocketed out from the other size; and enormous white butterflies danced like drunken angels. It smelled fresh and green.
As we continued the brook (not really a river - perhaps a 'riacho') narrowed. While at first the vegetation had been mixed - jungle, deciduous, interspersed with tall cactus - it became a dense mangrove forest and the foliage enveloped us in an opaque canopy. Tiny skittish spotted crabs with crimson claws were everywhere, shyly clicking sideways as we meandered by. The birds were equally bashful - egrets, some type of capri blue herons, and others that looked like kingfishers. It smelled dank and rotten; but we saw tajones (also called coatimundi), and caimans! These mini-crocodiles (we called them 'jacare' in Paraguay) froze when we approached, until we got too close and they slithered away. (Personally i was thrilled at how timid they were, seeing we were wading and swimming in this water!)
Well over an hour we wound our way upstream, ducking beneath the outstretched tendrils of the mangroves, pushing aside slimy logs, and dodging giant spiders in webs 4' wide, until the sun broke through again and we came to a clearing, were the promised landing for the palapa - with cold beer and fish tacos - was situated. Except the path to the palapa was fenced off with barbed wired, and a trio of Federales (Mexican police - with guns) looked at us quizzically. In our best Spanglish we queried about crossing to the beachfront eatery, but they encouraged us to leave so we did so at once! Back down the meandering stream - this time benefiting from the 2-knot current - and back to the bay. A restaurant there was boarded up too, so we shoved the dinghy out through the surf and headed to FRC for siestas and dinner.
Now, the nighttime betrays more 'civilization' than we'd realized: several hotels and settlements are lit up in the dark (thank goodness the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM of the distant disco has ceased!) The air smells fresh and cool, with a tinge of basura smoke (Viva la Mexico!). Waves hammer the beach in a semi-circle around us, but we are well clear of shore, having moved to the center of the bay to deter mozzies and no-see-ums. The moon is bright and nearly full, beckoning wishes and dreams.
Nov 20
After a walk the length of the beach at Tenacatita, and a short dip in the hazy green bay, we packed up FRC and got underway, motoring to Barra Navidad about a dozen miles south. Along the way I made fish tacos - and discovered the reason our mystery fish is called 'Toro' ('bull' - not Pompano as we thought) -- the thick red flesh looks like sirloin steak! But the tacos were good ...
Arriving at Navidad we eked through the channel and tentatively into the shallow anchorage, where several panga drivers flagged us down to point the way through the muddy shoals. Eventually got the anchor down, with nary a foot to spare beneath the keel, and enjoyed a brisk breeze which lasted into the night. We went into town for dinner - taking a panga instead of the splashy dinghy ride. At night the pangas run swiftly, without lights, and it is exhilarating as they zip across the glassy bay under a full moon ... but you sure don't want to be an unsuspecting dinghy in their way!
Nov 21
The French Baker (who I remember from my visit here five ? years ago) motors across the slick water in his panga this quiet morning. What a treat, and dichotomy, in a lonely Mexican anchorage, to have fresh baked croissants, baguettes, and quiches! I get some pastries for the crew for our Sunday breakfast, and place an order for herb bread and baguettes for tomorrow, when we will depart for Manzanillo. That's it for now ... over & out xoxo Betsy / Mom
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