Dear family and friends,
I'm anchored off the beach at Chacala, one of the most beautiful places I've yet to visit. I can only describe it as perfect - and no phones !! So, today I ventured forth by hitch-hike and taxi-van about 20 miles to the larger town of La Pinita where I found an internet connection in a private home about six blocks off the main street. He had 2 or 3 computers on line and was able to provide me with a connection for my laptop and AOL, so I got mail !! Total charge, including the LD phone call to Puerto Vallarta - 15 pesos, about $1.75.

Everyone I'm in touch with seems to be doing just fine, as I am down here, but I'm sorry to say I did receive some bad news from the Portland area. My good friend, Jim Peterson (we first met when I was manager of First National in Tualatin, 1973 and then I worked with Jim at Sunn Musical for a couple of years and went on to buy lumber from him as our paths crossed again in the 80's) died December 7th of a heart attack at home with his wife Carol by his side. My kids and any friends who've attended the past 4th of July celebrations at the Bachelor Blvd place will remember Jim for his raucous good humor and the fireworks that he always supplied to fill out the party. I'll always remember Jim for his honesty, integrity and friendship through a lot of changes in both of our lives.

This afternoon was another beautiful day on the beach, but a lot of my thoughts were disturbed and by the time the sun set and I returned to the boat, I just felt I had to write something to keep my mind busy and occupied. Jim was probably only a year or two older than me - way too young.

No Mean Dogs In Mexico!!

First impressions mean a lot. Bahia Tortuga - Turtle Bay - about as far from anywhere on the Pacific Mexican coast as you can get, either arrive by boat or travel several hours across single track dirt road to find a quiet village nestled on a gentle slope leading to the edge of a protected harbor - 300 miles north to the US border. I chose the marine access and now, from the beach, I'm walking up a dusty yellow path of a street with shacks like houses on each side, doors flung open and windows wide, looking for any breath of wind to cool this hot November day. The children - huge brown eyed, mop-topped, toothy grinned - stand in a doorway or sit on a short stone wall following every step. One or two with a quiet "Hola" and wait for a response. "Hola", I say or "Buenos tardes", and that brings a bigger grin. I'm looking for a block of ice, maybe two, and I don't even know how to ask for it in this foreign land !!

But as I amble up the street, sand and some cobblestones, it's the dogs that get my attention. Not a bark, no whimper - they're quiet in the afternoon heat, and they know better than to move too fast. Floppy black ears above pointed snout with scruffy spotted back and bushy tail lays in the shade of the wall and follows me only with eyes that show the strength of life. I wipe the sweat from my brow and mutter to the dog "Pero - you're not stupid!" The Spanish word for ice is "heilo"; say "yehlow" and you'll find it if they have it in the village.

La Paz - capital of Baja California Sur and 400 miles south of Turtle Bay - just as dry, just as dusty, but some of the streets in the city are paved, a few have their original stone base and the rest are just sand - yellow and brown. But where you would never expect them, concrete gutters line the sides of sand covered streets - and end abruptly for no more reason than they began.

The small brown terrier eyes me suspiciously and I wonder if this is the one that will attack. But no, when I "cluck" at her she stops and looks quizzically, head tilted and ears listening for more. "Pero", I say, "como esta" and she scoots around me without a second glance. I'm in the back streets, several blocks off the waterfront, in a residential area of gated fine homes, questionable huts, an auto repair shop and a used battery warehouse - zoning hasn't found a definition in this country.

An acquaintance had given me directions to a "Deposito" where I hoped to trade my cervesa empties for full ones at half the price of the bars and several pesos less than that charged at the corner tienda. Again today it's hot, in the 80's, and I cross to the shady side and in the process find a concrete sidewalk behind a planting strip full of squatty green trees, each with a brick circle at the base to contain a daily ration of water.

Even the indecisive houses are well kept and I pass several with fresh swept portions of walkway and bright potted flowers by the door. But the dogs - does every house have one? Here a perfect yellow lab lays with head between paws, eyes tightly shut, and makes no motion as I pass. And at the next yard a fancy ironwork fence and ornate gate guard the modest concrete block structure behind and the mutt within.

Yellowybeige - about the size of a large cat - with white socks on three legs, his tail curls completely and ears perk straight up behind the short muzzle punctuated by black olive nose. When he sees me passing, he jumps up to put his forepaws on the lowest iron rail and forces his head and neck through the bars, sniffing and tail wagging. He's just looking for some fun.

In the next block, Pacifico is 4 1/2 pesos each if you buy twenty and if you have the empties to return.

From La Paz you'll sail 15 miles north, then around the point and 280 miles south-easterly across the widest part of the Sea of Cortez to San Blas, in the State of Nayarit, the oldest port in Mexico, established in 1744 after being first explored in 1530.

The Port of San Blas and adjacent Matanchen Bay was the starting point for Padre Junipero Serra in his quest to establish a chain of missions up the California coast. Today, the town is only a quarter the size it was in 1873, the year that maritime commerce ceased by decree from Mexico City, but the buildings remain and local commerce continues. Being well off the north-south coastal highway between Mazatlan and Puerto Vallarta, the area receives a smattering of tourists and Mexican vacationers looking for an inexpensive and quiet getaway.

I'm told that the cobblestones in the streets date back to the early 1800's and the church on the plaza was begun in 1808, but most of the homes and active commercial establishments are of this century. The climate here is very different from that of Baja, being tropical, with lush jungle growth, coconut palms and noticable humidity. In the residential areas there is much greenery to shade the concrete and masonary structures and at times it can feel quite cool when out of the sun.

But the dogs of San Blas are no different. As I walk beside a tall block wall, up ahead it's capped by the concrete roof of an adjacent building, and on the roof a fifty pound stark white Heinz 57 variety has his eyes glued on my progress as he stretches his neck out to peer down and along the wall. This one barks loudly and I wonder if he's the exception to the rule, but as I approach and see his awkward position, tail wagging, front legs bent low, I know he's only announcing my passing, as he must for anyone that approaches his vantage point so much higher than the other dogs.

And they are many - all over Mexico - of all colors, shapes and sizes. Some would carry the description "flea-bitten mongrel" while others would be "an adorable lost waif" and yet one or two maybe a "fine shepheard" or "beautiful pointer".

Today on the beach I saw two perfect black labs trouncing in the surf and running in the sand and one morning a few weeks back a lonesome, scraggly, splotchy shephard, recently a mother with stretched teats almost dragging on the stones but tail high as she loped along, bouncing gait, tongue hanging in the heat, crossing the street well ahead of me to give plenty of room to pass.

I'm impressed too, with the people of the coast of Mexico. They live a simple, apparently happy life, never grumbling or complaining at their lot - pleased with the day. Many times more often than not, as I pass someone on the street I'll receive an "Hola !" and I respond with "Buenos dias".... and see the smile.