We get out of Ciudad C very slowly, after internet and showers, stopping at an agua purificada place on a side street.
“They’re selling a big bag of oranges for P30. Do you want one?” asks Big Dog. Sure. It’s a big bag, about 10 kilos of oranges.
We stop at a loncheria on the highway for lunch (tacos asada, burrito machaca and a quesadilla – those familiar with Mexico will understand how variety is not as important in this country.) There are a few gringos in this town, all heading north or south. At the Pemex there are free showers in a rather groddy bathroom. I wash veggies while Big Dog washes the windscreen and gets gas. A station wagon full of younger gringos and a giant gang of motorcyclists (big Harleys, etc.) clog up the joint just when we try to get out.
Ciudad C is ag-land, as is Insurgentes. (Gotta love these Leftist names! There’s a Heroes de la Revolucion street in every large town, too.) Once again, we drive past feed lots, orange groves, corn fields…
The stretch up to Sierra de la Giganta is flat and kind of boring, but the Sierra is very cool – it is SO southwest! Rough, young mountains, along with some mesa-like “flat-tops.” Steep going up and steep going down, down, down towards the coast again.
Thomas and Claudia stayed at “Rattlesnake Beach” at the tip of Puerto Escondido and loved it, so we turn there and find the Port – nice and new with big boats moored. We don’t see any beach, though.
A guard tells us to go back and turn at the RV park. Near the RV park, we pass a couple in a truck who tells us that yes, there is a beach but “there’s not much room.” Too many campers? Or just a narrow beach? Either way, we opt not to go down that dirt road.
Back on the highway for a few kilometers to El Juncalito. Our seriously outdated camp guide says there are “palapas on the beach” but it is actually a village with residences.
We find a place to park, next to someone’s big, 2-storey fancy palapa which happens to be next to a small chapel, and take a stroll. There are big rigs under big palapas. The snowbirds in residence here have built fancy “homes” around their rigs. Many are more or less complete enclosures, sort of like what M and L did with their rig in La Manzanilla except with more walls, more facilities. At the northern end of the bay are real homes.
We go towards the southern end and pass a rig from BC, where the owner is working outside. He’s got 2 solar panels which he said he built himself and it provides all the power he needs. Boy, don’t we need some solar! A new battery would help, too. He also tells you that the public beach is at the southern end, accessed from a different road.
As we approach, we see that the road would have been a bit of a challenge, with deep ruts and some slippery parts. But the camp area has a dense grove of palms, is protected and private. There’s a large motorhome tucked away. It’s pretty nice. The beach is mostly cobblestones and the sea is more open and rougher but it’s nice with islands off in the distance.
We ponder moving to this beach camp – I am worried we are in the RV space of the palapa owner. He’s probably on his way back right now. The palapa has running water, plants and kayaks. There are chairs and kid toys upstairs. Downstairs, there are bathrooms and showers. I am sure the whole family is coming back. Soon.
But Big Dog is not at all worried and although I am, I start washing oranges, borrowing the kitchen sink to do so. The oranges are smaller than the ones we buy on the mainland but thinner skinned and oh-so-juicy. They are so good, I wind up having about four drinks tonight!
The man from the house across the street from the palapa comes back and Big Dog asks him if it’s okay that we park here. He tells Big Dog that the palapa is his – his father built it – and tell us, sure, go ahead, use the bathroom, the water, whatever. Wow.
With that, we set up at his unused (and needing repair) BBQ pit to grill our marinated chicken wings for dinner.
End of Day Miles: 1964.3 mi.