12th-16th April 
It was another perfect sailing day for the 16-nautical-mile crossing to Yelapa, near Cabo Corrientes, which marks the southern end of Banderas Bay. Over here it's more mountainous and lush (though the greenness doesn't show so much in the photo above) than the north and east sides of the Bay. Big cumulus clouds hovered over the mountains that come right down to the shore. The few viable anchorages on this side of the Bay are very deep and more exposed to the wind and ocean swells, so they're supposed to be best for day stops only in calm weather. But Yelapa is said to be the best of these, and well worth the anchoring challenges if you're up for it. And the forecast was for calm conditions. 
As we entered Yelapa's little bay a guy in a panga approached and offered us use of his private bow-and-stern mooring buoys. I was surprised at the steep price he asked, and our half-hearted attempt at bargaining resulted only in a slight reduction. Honestly though, it was worth it for the privilege of a safe tie-up in this otherwise tricky bay. Plus he would almost certainly help keep on eye on Honu for us. We paid for four nights' stay. As it turned out, for most of our time there we were the only sailboat among all the visiting tour boats and pangas. 
Once safely tied up we had a chance to take in the surroundings. It was a jewel of a bay: white-sand beaches fell steeply away just a few yards from shore into teal, then deep-blue water. Paragliders took off from the beach and soared above the bay towed by pangas. Water taxis zipped back and forth. The cute village nestled against jungly hills on the western side of the bay.
There's supposed to be only one road to the village, which we never saw - but there are no cars. How cool is that?! Also unique is that the land is owned, managed and lived on by the indigenous people who've inhabited this area from way, way back in time. No one individually owns the land their house or business sits on; it's all held in common by the community. Small, cute guest houses were strung along the western side of the bay, built against the hill and half-hidden among the jungly vegetation. There are even two organic vegetable gardens near the village, and it was a very pleasant errand to walk the trail the mile or so to the garden and choose some freshly-picked produce. The whole bay exudes an air of peace and contentment. This village, like most places in Mexico we've visited so far, had its share of elderly foreign expats, and I imagined to myself they wanted to keep the secret of it to themselves as much as possible!
Yelapa's attractions include two waterfalls - cascadas - the smaller one is a few minutes' walk above the town. But it was a long, hot, dusty walk along a sandy path into the hills beside the stream to get to the larger one. We started early. I read that there used to be a lot of mahogany and rosewood trees in these mountains, but most of them are long gone, used to build the canoes for which this part of Banderas Bay was once famous. I wondered what the jungle had looked like with those trees still around; it must've been magnificent. Along the way we stepped aside on the path for a few ATVs - the closest things to cars in Yelapa. Further along, transport was exclusively by horse, mule and donkey. Several pack trains passed us, the ones heading upstream carrying empty sacks, and those coming down, a big heavy sack of sand sagged on either side of each animal's saddle. Upstream, people were shoveling sand from the creek into sacks and loading up the patient animals. The sand was probably used for making concrete back in the village. An unfamiliar loud, squawking, chicken-like bird call in the canopy above our heads made us look up. Perched on branches were a type of bird completely unfamiliar to us - the chachalaca, like a cross between a pheasant and a chicken and whose name must come from the sound of its call. We crossed the shallow stream several times, but the water was thick with tiny black tadpoles and we had to step carefully to avoid them - I've never seen so many in one place! We finally reached the falls and were rewarded with a cool dip. It felt fabulous to stand right under the fall and let the water pound down onto our tired dusty bodies. 
The anchorage at night was idyllic - except for the incessant rolling from the swells entering the bay. Looking over Honu's side, dozens tiny neon blue lights winked at us from below the water's surface - the fluorescent headgear of some fish species, we thought. We could've happily stayed longer - the beauty of the place was an effective distraction from the uncomfortable rolling. But it's really not a good place for a boat for long, plus we had dentist appointments over on the other side of Banderas Bay.