As nice as San Blas was, and we really did enjoy being there the two weeks, we needed to recover from the accumulating bites of the jejenes, and from an unpleasant stomach virus that Eric encountered. The beachy holiday destination of Chacala was recommended to us by a couple of sailor friends back at the Sausalito marina, and seemed just the place to be.

We had no wind for the whole 26 miles of the trip there, but it was a beautiful day and we enjoyed moving on: blue water again, the prospect of swimming, restful nights. When we got there in the early evening, neck in neck with another boat, the anchorage seemed full. There were eight or nine boats already huddled in the prime spots of the bight of the land, two of which (Mandy, Rio Nimpkish) we had previously encountered and befriended. Their recommendation was "stern anchor and flopper-stopper if you have it." You mean the roll is that bad? We got out the stern anchor, but we travel much too lightly for things like a flopper-stopper. No bloodthirsty insects came after us, but the roll was pretty bad. In addition, I was struck down with the same stomach virus that Eric had battled just a few days before, so our first night at Chacala was far from restful. The following day, through the murkiness of pain and fever I heard Eric tell me that our water tanks were empty, that we were probably not going to be able to get water in town, and that we?d have to leave soon. My feeble response had something to do with a bottle of San Pellegrino in the bilge.

We have no refrigeration on the boat, so, of course, the thoughts of whether or not I had cooked something rotten and poisonous for dinner were torturing my mind, as if the physical discomfort wasn't enough. The only consolation was that at least we were not out of commission both at the same time, and were able to keep an eye on each other.

Chacala is small, very slow-paced and especially charming. It is immediately obvious why people like to come here for vacation. The town is clustered around a curved bay and surrounded by lush green hills. On approach from the water one sees the wide, golden sand beach lined with palapa roofed restaurants, and expensive houses lurking from the green growth high up the above the cove. There are a few delightful, bright colored B&Bs on the cliff right by the beach. The streets are cobbled and can be very steep. A constant push back and forth between man and nature is palpable, as the vegetation creeps back into town in and tries to reclaim its territory, and as new buildings are being constructed or expanded. Tourism and fishing are the way to make a living, and both seem quite viable: fish are everywhere, and restaurants are full of American retirees in bathing suits. There are two beaches at Chacala, the main one along almost the entire length of the cove where people spill from the surrounding hotels, and one just about 20 feet wide, which is full of little kids on the weekends. That?s where we brought our dinghy to shore, under numerous squeaks of "gringos, gringos!"

One day we got onto a local bus (actually an old van) and for 12 pesos each (under a dollar) rode to the town of Las Varas further inland. There is substantially more shopping in Las Varas than there is in Chacala. There's a main plaza, a larger church and taller buildings, but the town is bisected by the fast highway we came in on. The highlight of the day for us was sitting down in a small taqueria on the main shopping street and eating the best tacos and quesadillas we?d ever had. A few minutes after we ordered our food, the waitress loaded our table with small bowls of various salsas and pickled vegetables, all served on nice red clay pottery, a welcome change from the typical Mexican plastic-ware. We watched our tortillas being made by hand; they were most delicious.

After four days the roll of the boat in the anchorage got the better of us, and we decided to move on again and make the trip to Banderas Bay.