Southern Exposure

Saturday, November 29, 2008

We awoke in our bungalow to another sunny morning. We both had slept great to the sounds of the surf. Our next destination was Tenacatita, a name we can never remember or pronounce correctly. These are going to be some of the easier days of this trip for us, as we’re trying to savor this stretch of the coastline. The ride was only 35 miles to Tenacatita and we arrived in the early afternoon.

The layout of the town was very simple. There was a partly paved, partly dirt road following the bay along the beach, and on the beach side of the road were restaurants. Apparently the tradition in this part of Mexico is to name the restaurant after yourself, so each restaurant had an identical Corona sponsored sign with the proprietor’s name underneath. The sign seems to be the only differentiator. The other side of the road was more sparsely populated and was strictly abarrotes, which literally means groceries but in reality means a convenience store with some produce.

For once, finding a hotel was easy. Our hotel, Hotel Los Amigos, occupied its own street one street back from the main beach street. The owner was a very friendly and helpful old man. The room had air conditioning, which is always extremely welcome, and was clean and comfortable. The niece of the owner was visiting, and she was just the cutest little six year old. She followed us everywhere around the hotel and asked questions.

We quickly unpacked and headed towards the beach. The owner recommended one restaurant and said dropping his name would give us a discount. We had a nice lunch and people watched on the beach. Since it was Saturday, it was busy. In this part of the country busy means maybe 100 people. The draw is from towns as far as 3 hours away in Guadalajara. We had read that this town had great snorkeling, but on the main beach we didn’t see anyone doing it. We asked our hotel manager and he told us where to rent the gear, that if we walked down the road over a small hill, there was another small beach that sheltered a reef.

We rented our gear, and hit the water. The signs said this was the biggest reef in the state of Jalisco. It wasn’t huge, but the water was shallow and there was a great show of tropical fish. We saw all sorts of colorful triggers, angel fish, gar, and wrasses. The fish seemed oblivious to us as schools of fish would just swim around us. I even managed to spot a few eels hiding under overhangs. It was a beautiful way to spend an afternoon. The Pacific is so warm this far south you don’t think twice about diving in. I don’t have Inna’s Russian cold water endurance for the Seattle waters so it’s a real treat for me to be able to swim freely.

If you were to tour British Columbia right now, I don’t think you would find a single retiree. We have witnessed a great exodus from the frozen north. I can’t begin to count the number of RVs we have seen with BC tags. This small beach sheltered by the reef was completely dominated by RVs, the majority from BC. They are quite a community, barbecuing together, having cocktail hours, sharing RV related tips and tricks. They were floating in a great circle in the water chatting as we snorkeled past. We asked one women how long they were parked for and she replied: “The winter.” Considering the alternative of cold, darkness, rain and snow they made be on to something. I had previously viewed the entire RV living concept with a bit of derision, but the ones we have seen in Mexico so far really do seem to be living the good life.

On our walk back to the hotel with our snorkeling gear, a young Mexican man named Evan greeted us and began to chat with us about snorkeling. He told us that if we would stick around tomorrow, he’d take us out in a boat to do more snorkeling while he went diving for lobster and clams. We harbored a bit of distrust towards strangers who offer great deals, so we didn’t accept the offer outright, but he told us where to meet him the next morning if we were interested.

We cleaned up at the hotel and then took our now customary sunset walk on the beach. Yes, this part of the trip is a rough life. All of these beach sunsets really wear you out. The sun had set by 7 pm, and as we walked back to town for dinner, we saw that every single restaurant had closed and the staff were gone. We discovered that Tenacatita is an anti-vampire town. Once the sun sets, all life ceases and it’s a ghost town. We walked the entire strip looking for dinner, but it was quiet and dark. A Frenchman and his family pulled up in their imported RV. In a sign of the times, his first question was “WiFi Internet?” and then “Are there any restaurants?”. There was one restaurant at the end that seemed reluctantly willing to stay open and serve some food, but we’d already accepted the idea of skipping dinner and retired for the night.