Our experiences on Isla Isabel were sublime; however, like foie gras, or caviar or tartufi bianchi, a small amount fully satisfies. Adding more tends only to lessen the sublimity of the enjoyment. When we arrived back on board Sequitur on Wednesday afternon, we were so full from our experiences ashore that it would be easy to leave in the morning.
The predicted 35-knot northwest winds came up in the late afternoon and the wind funnelled over the low spit to our northwest and through the anchorage. Fortunately, the island protected us from the swell and the wind-generated waves. Shortly before sunset a sailboat anchored next to us, then a bit later, three large fishing trawlers anchored astern of us. The place was getting crowded, further signalling us that it was time to leave.
We weighed anchor at 0620 on Thursday the 25th of February and motored out of anchorage on the south side of Isla Isabel. The winds had abated overnight, as predicted by the gribs; however, instead of the 15 knot northwest wind predicted, we found ourselves with only 3 or 4 knots. We motored into the sunrise under clear skies, with a few accent cumulus near the horizons.
Mid-afternoon, just before we arrived off Punta de Mita, Edi finished knitting the second sock. I tried on the pair, and somehow, couldn't help but think of blue-footed boobies. Immediately after the modelling session, Edi unravelled the first sock, rewound the ball of yarn and started knitting it again. She had started the socks at different ends of their yarn skeins, and the patterns didn't match. Amazing patience and persistence!
At 1516 we rounded Punta de Mita and entered Banderas Bay. This large bay is some 15 by 15 nautical miles in size, is lined with nice beaches and is home to an exponentially growing number of condominium and resort developments. We headed along the north side of the bay to La Cruz, and at 1748 came to 22.5 metres of chain on the Rocna off the entrance to the new Marina Riviera Nayarit. We were nestled in among some thirty other boats riding to their anchors in this popular place.
La Cruz was founded in the 1930s to support the mango orchards and other agricultural enterprises in the area. It remained a sleepy little farming and fishing village until quite recently. In 2008, a full-facility marina was opened with 340 slips accommodating boats from 10 to 120 metres, and in its literature it fancies itself as the best marina in Mexico.
On Saturday morning we took Non Sequitur into the marina and secured her to the dinghy dock. The access gate from the dock was locked, so we took the easy bypass around the elaborate security structure, and walked through the fresh fish market. The marina had built a very modern market for the local fishermen, complete with tiled booths, running water, refrigerated lockers and for clients to wash-up, hand basins with running water. About a third of the stalls were in use, and I can see this becoming a very popular market, both for the shore-side residents and the boaters.
We walked up through the village to the road to Puerto Vallarta, arriving just as the bus pulled-up. We hopped on, and for 15 Pesos each, we rode the 27 kilometres into Puerto Vallarta. The bus was nearly full, and as it continued to be flagged down every one or two hundred metres, it was very soon crammed. The trip took a little over an hour including a stop to refuel along the way.
We got off in the centre of town and walked to Costco to check-out its wares. With only four or five weeks left before our planned departure from North America, we need to start focusing on stocking-up for some long sea passages and for many months away from known or predictable sources of supply. The food selection at the new Puerto Vallarta Costco was all that we had hoped, and better. We will be easily able to replenish Sequitur's pantry and cupboards.
After breakfast on Sunday we headed ashore to walk the beaches along to Bucerias, a town some six kilometres northeast of La Cruz. As we were heading into the marina, the Mexican Armada was coming out. There had been an increasing military presence here the past day or two, preparing for this morning's arrival of Mexican President Calderon at the marina to officially open the Mexico Cup Regatta.
We quickly left the marina and headed along the beach, past several pairs of machinegun-toting soldiers sweltering in their full battle gear complete with camouflaged armoured vests. The wiser ones were lurking under the trees, seeking some shade.
As we passed the last of the armed soldiers, their attention went to the arrival of the helicopter carrying the President. With the soldiers now so preoccupied, we could carry-on with our non-conforming activities, and we boldly walked away from the centre of everyone's attention.
The sand was fine and firm, and we walked easily in bare feet carrying our sandals. As we passed Sequitur out in the anchorage, the offshore breeze was pushing in a swell that broke on the shoals as one and a half to two metre high surf.
The beaches are lined with condos, hotels and resorts, one after another, almost without interruption. Many of them are walled-off and secluded from the beach, almost as if it wasn't there.
Others have nicely incorporated the beach into their design.
In several places along the way we paused to watch the seabirds. Here, one sandpiper stands guard while the others rest on one leg.
After an enjoyable six kilometre walk, we arrived at a non-stop line of beachside restaurants, each with its own variation of palapa roofs, and palm leaf table umbrellas. We had arrived in Bucerias. Most of the restaurants had un-cushioned patio chairs and brash hawkers trying to lure clients. We selected a place with no hawkers, and took a beachside table with comfortably upholstered chairs, just in the shade under a palapa roof.
We ordered fish tacos, chicken quesadillas and Coronas, and sat enjoying the passing scene. People were wading close to shore, others were further out trying to jump the breakers as they came in. Some horses rode past.
Itinerant vendors came by the tables trying to sell all kinds of things we didn't want. One had a stack of hats on his head, a clutch of plastic beach buckets hanging off his shoulder and an assortment of colourful cloth in his hands.
A lady came by balancing a tray of fruit juices on her head and sold some to a nearby table, the occupants of which seemed to buy something from nearly everyone, including buying from one vendor an absolutely butt-ugly carved wooden duck dish.
A beautiful young girl, dressed in a traditional outfit was selling woven bags. She seemed to be pre-teen. I don't know whether she is a young entrepreneur, or whether she is forced to work; I suspect the latter.
After lunch we wandered through the narrow streets and lanes adjacent to the beaches. These were lined cheek-by-jowl with small shop fronts, stalls, tables and pick-up truck beds offering a broad variety of tourist souvenirs and kitch. At least here, the souvenirs are still made in Mexico, not in China.
A good number of vendors had locally made items mixed in with the general tourist spam, and some of them appeared to be stocked with only locally produced stuff.
At one stall, which was temporarily set-up under the trees beside a pungent grey water ditch, the wares were a naive attempt at primitive art.
Above the hubbub on the streets were the homes of the locals. Many of the balconies here were nicely decorated, indicating to us a local pride and a relative prosperity.
We walked through the centre of town to the arterial road, and then along it until I stubbed my toe on a piece of rebar protruding up out of the sidewalk. Walking on the sidewalks in Mexico is much more hazardous than is climbing and scrambling around in the wilderness. There are unmarked open manholes in many places, gaping potholes, steps where they are not expected, no steps where there ought to be some, incongruous discontinuities in level, and as I found out, exposed rebar. A few weeks ago in Guaymas, Edi stuffed her leg down to above her knee into an uncovered electrical inspection hole in the middle of the malecon. The rebar had ripped my toenail off, and it was too painful for me to walk all the way back to La Cruz, so we flagged-down a bus to take us back.
On our walk from the bus stop down through the village to the marina, we stopped at a tienda and bought half-a-dozen eggs for less than 75 cents. Our lunch had been quite filling, and an omelette seemed appropriate for dinner.
On Monday afternoon we took the bus into Puerto Vallarta and walked around the Marina Vallarta complex. This area of hotels, shopping arcades, restaurants and bars surrounds a 450-slip marina, and looks more prosperous than many we have seen in Mexico; the vacancy rate appears to be less than 25%. A large new shopping centre is nearing completion, immediately adjacent to the existing development.
It was mid-afternoon, but the marina office was closed. The sign on its door told us it was open from 0900 to 1400 and then from 1600 to 1900. An hour's stroll looking at the marina, the shops and at restaurant menus brought us back to the marina office at 1610, in sufficient time for us to wait only another ten minutes for it to open. We inquired about slip availability and rates. There are slips available and the rate of US$1.00 per foot including water and electricity is not bad, particularly with the continuing collapse of the US dollar. This will be a very convenient place to spend a couple of days while we stock-up.