What day is it? Is it Friday? Time is melting, days blending into each other.
Yesterday, Big Dog gave Juan some dried fruit, oranges and a really cold beer. Today, we shared another cup of coffee and gave him some money for using his water. We cleaned up and tidied everything, trying to be the nicest intruders…only to forget our trash bag. We had packed it up to take, then left it on the wall. I’m hoping the birds don’t peck it open, left for dogs and cats to scatter… Ugh. I am so bummed out.
We left Juan with warm goodbyes. He told us to return soon and when we do, stay here. Maybe one day we will be back to El Juncalito. It had no sandy beach but was pretty darn nice, going to sleep to the sound of waves.
From Juncalito, it’s a short hop to Loreto, past some boondock beach camps and a nice resort with a beautiful golf course. We stop in Loreto for supplies and brunch at the most popular taco place in town. At 11 am, the place is packed! The tacos are giant with tons of filling and a full assortment of condiments. We both get a fish taco and an asada taco – mine on corn tortillas and Big Dog’s on flour tortillas which are slightly bigger – with sliced grilled onions and a super hot grilled serano pepper. I am stuffed after just one.
At Km 24, there is the Big Search. The two military dudes in charge are young and babyfaced but they make us open doors, come in and open cabinets and drawers. The guy investigating inside was the sterner looking one of the two. The smiley one was at the front, asking my name and having me write it in kanji on his notebook. Now, if I ever go back to Loreto and find a building, shop or restaurant with 薫 on it, I will have to go in!
The other guy doesn’t smile much, but when he sees the guitar in the closet, he asks Big Dog if he plays it and Big Dog begins singing El Paso, adding that he has a harmonica, getting it out and playing that, too. For all the searching, the whole experience was completely laid back. INS and TSA could learn a thing or two. You don’t have to be an asshole to do your job right! The guys at Narita are rarely assholes but way more efficient. Of course, these guys here could have missed a huge haul of drugs or guns in the guitar case…
We continue to El Requeson where the turnoff is actually paved!! And the beach is sooo tranquilo, not crowded at all. A sand spit leading to a small rock island divides the cove into 2 parts, each side beautiful and calm. The water is quite shallow in the bay and the wind is not too strong, just refreshing. Plus, someone moved out just as we got there, leaving their prime palapa spot.
There are some young Europeans here. One is kiteboarding, zooming around rather noisily and intrusively, making lots of waves and disturbing the serenity of the place. (He is probably trying to impress his pretty girlfriend.) There are also a few strange campers here, like older men in Speedos wandering too close to our palapa, then standing to peer in!
With our nice palapa, it is time for the hammock to come out. I hitch it up to the posts at the front of the palapa – there are some metal bracket things to tie to – but the position is too low and my butt is nearly on the ground. After a while, I decide to adjust to a higher position – there is a nail higher up. But as soon as my weight is on the hammock, the nail bends and pulls out, sending me crashing on my hip. Everyone is watching (and probably snickering.)
“Here, I have a better system,” says Big Dog, bringing over a rusty hook. I try that but the hook instantly breaks as soon as I get in the hammock. My back and head hit the sand below. Owww. It is back to the original position. Moral of this story: do not trust rusty metal; wood is better.
Across from a very shallow channel is the “island.” During low tide, it is attached to the land by the sandy spit. The island is mangroves on one side and rocks on the other, outer side. There is probably good fishing on the rocky side. There are little sand encrusted “breathing tubes” coming out of the beach at water’s edge. I dig around, thinking they are for clams and find a small clam that would be perfect for vongole.
Back near camp, we meet “Don” and “Aaron” from California who tell us there are scallops on the point south of us.
The guy who comes to collect the camp fee has a bag of scallops – they are big and look more like real scallops than the ones I bought in Playa Escondida, so I buy the bag. Unfortunately, they got a bit overdone over the barbie and were tough and chewy. I’m not sure if it was the cooking but they are not as sweet or tender as the first batch, although they still had great flavor. They probably should be eaten raw.
End of Day Miles: 2037.4 mi