After seeing many beautiful sunsets on the beach and my feet full of sand fly bits, it was time to move on. Still amazed with the roads turn after turn. The vegetation growing right to the roadways, only being trimmed back by the largest vehicles. The ocean views, the little memorials and crosses marking the roadsides, the journey down the 200 high way continued. Night setting in again and after dealing with the local policia, over a money gaining act of theirs, it was time to find shelter and call it a day. In the dark the hotel Posada Don Gerardo, in La Mascota, would do the trick for a night. Being too tired to really pay any attention to the man running the place, I went to sleep right away listening to the waves crashing on the sand close by. Awaking in the morning to a brilliant day and finally making sense of what was being explained the night before. It turns out the hotel, what was left of it, about six suits, was hit hard by the hurricane that had hit less than a year ago. Looking down the beach you could see the extent of the damage done to all the hotels along the strip. None of the owners with income to fix the damages, where left in the rubble, holding on to what ever they could. Getting washed up in the ocean for another day of the same glorious riding, the reality of the place set in.
Stopping early for the night, being entertainment in a surfer town, in the middle of no wear. Okay, the middle of no wear was Caleta De Campos, but having the “surfer due” attitude and talk engulfing the little town it felt like the twilight zone. Was happy enough to get on the way the next morning. There is only, so many “hey due” you can listen to before needing a real conversation. Besides, it was the Day of the Dead and having seen the set up, of cleaning and painting in the graveyards for the last week, I wanted to see the action. Celebrating the lost of family, friends, or loved ones, the spirits, the after life, very different from, what I knew from before. With a new understanding of a different way of looking at things, moved forward to a boat tour in the Canon Del Sumidero to see the rock formations. Now, the tour is most famous for its cascade de “San Vincente” and “el Arbol de Navidad”, but I remember it most by the river full of pop bottles and vultures, which were just as amazing to see. Floating through the endless pop bottles down stream was just something you don’t see everyday. By the time we reached the cascades the camera was full, so bought a postcard, which looked even better than the real thing, something about the time of year and not enough rain. The fact that ithad been raining for two days didn’t seem to make much of a difference. It was still worth seeing all the pop bottles. Just think of a nickel for every bottle, wow. Moving on to Chipas mountains, with the continuous rain, headed to San Cristobal for a few days. The best way to stay warm in the rain, being soaked right through, is catch the spray up from the big trucks that go by, it’s surprising how warm the water is. What also was surprising was to see a town nearly under water due to the heavy rainfall. I’m telling you it looked like a lot of boats out on the water with there lights on, but when you got closer to see that the lights were in fact street lights and in a few more feet you’d be in the water, ‘I guess I’m not spending the night here’ came to mind. San Cristobal was the next town anyways and time to get dried off and eat. I suggest El Gato Gordo and the Dunkin Donuts, at least once while your there. I spent a lot of time site seeing with all the churches and the art school and the market, you need time here to see it all. It was a little Mecca of tourists too.
_________________
Out of all the things Ive lost, its my mind I miss the most
