One of the things I enjoy most about this sailing trip is exploring new places. You never know what you will find. Or not find, in the case of Puerto Escondido. As mentioned in the last post, it is a great hurricane hole or place to hide when in is blowing on the gulf. On the other hand, it is pretty much the sailing equivalent of a “one horse town”. There is one restaurant and a small tienda in the marina buildings. They have essential services for boats: a fuel dock, water, showers, etc. But that is about it. And moorage at the dock is extremely expensive. I have paid less to park in front of the Empress Hotel in Victoria, BC., Pier 39 in SanFrancisco, or at Bel Harbor in Seattle.

It is, however, about 25 kilometers down the road from the town of Loreto. On Sunday, I rented a car and headed into town. I managed to find the local farmers market by following a couple of other cruisers who were on their way there. I scored some fresh produce. I bought some cilantro and then cleverly made a vase for it by putting its plastic bag in the cup holder of the car with some water in it.

Then I headed into town, parking near Misión Nuestra Señora de Loreto. I learned that construction was started on the church in 1697. It was started by Jesuit padre Juan Salvatierra and became the hub for spreading missions throughout Baja and what is now known as the State of California. It was from here that Gaspar Portola and Junipero Serra headed north to establish missions from San Diego to San Francisco. As I looked at the wooden ceiling, doors and interior window shutters, I could not help but think about their age. I also thought about the natives who were conscripted by the Españolas to build it.

So I walked about the town, enjoying the sunshine and the views. A walkway with manicured trees, topiary arches over the walk, traversed the centro historico. It led to a nice town square that held several restaurants and the first brewpub I had seen in Baja. After asking for local advice, I ended up (over)eating at La Palapa and can attest to the quality of the Pollo en Mole. The Oaxacan style mole had just enough chocolate, roasted guajillos, onion, and garlic to make a lovely blend of flavors. And they served the locally brewed pale ale. I tried to walk some of that off and then staggered back to the car, where the cilantro had survived the heat inside.

After I returned to Puerto Escondido, my friend Larry showed up on Blue Star. Because I had the car until morning, I drove him into town so that he could look around a bit. We then dined at the local brewpub, Zopilote’s. We walked some of that meal off before returning to the harbor. I then said goodbye to Larry as I was headed further north and he was waiting for crew to show up at Loreto airport in the next week. I had thoroughly enjoyed his many stories of cultural experiences in the countries he has sailed to.