XAMETLA

In the morning after catching up with some blogging that seems to fall behind regularly, I headed south again. I was quickly out of the cobblestones and the road hugged the coast for some time along the cliffs with lots of winding roads. Unfortunately there were a couple of slow buses and trucks, not to mention the now very frequent speed humps (topes) that kept Ziggy’s suspension working. Eventually I moved away from the traffic and congestion as the road wound inland and higher into the hills, the heat intensified to mid thirties and I enjoyed some nice easy riding.

It was good to see some small Mexican towns again and I stopped a few times for a juice, water, some fruit, whatever was on offer that I could either eat there or would be handy later. Bananas work well. Unhusked coconuts don’t.

The road moved back towards the coast after a hundred or so kilometres and I started looking out for some nice beachside place to stay, preferably camp. One such road presented itself with an inviting name that didn’t sound like a big American resort. I rode the one kilometre of dirt before coming to an office and some interesting looking cabanas right on the beach. There was some nice green grass, freshly watered and cut and they looked like perfect campsites to me.

‘No camping here’ was the reply when I made myself understood what I was looking for.

‘How much are the cabanas then?’

‘Beginning at 750 Pesos’.

Shame, it looked nice, but the guy did tell me that there was a camping area only about five or six kilometres away, right on the beach.

I followed his directions and found a hand-written sign with a name and ‘Campo’ on it, and a small dirt road to the right heading towards the beach.

Hello XAMETLA.

I still don’t know exactly what this place is or whether the couple here own it or just care-take, but it was exactly what I was looking for.

Right on the beach on an acre or two of sand is a collection of structures with frond-thatched roofs, ranging from the bar with swinging beds to tables for two, to a range of camping spots with their own table and fireplace. It is so Mexican and in many ways like things were in the 1960s and 1970s in Australia or even Bali. Nothing remotely complies with OH&S standards, what electricity there is – energy efficient lights – is hand-wired, the toilets are non-flushing, just scoop water from the bucket outside. Perfect!

Near the entrance there were three open boats with outboards. The ocean was an enclosed bay with no surf to speak of, but six or more islands off the coast just sitting like sentries, with the boats there taking anyone willing.

A local couple arrived and said they were heading to an island about a kilometre away with a beach and a cabana. They invited me to come to the island with them to stay overnight because they had beer and food, but eventually I declined as the place I was in was perfect for me and I was the only camper at the moment.

Alfie the boat owner, asked if I wanted to come for the ride while he dropped the couple off to the island. I said yes straight away and we launched the boat off the beach and powered across the water for about ten minutes.

A beautiful beach with a large cabana in a very sheltered east-facing bay opened up before us.

I helped unload their things and we left them standing on the beach, the island to themselves. Alfie brought the boat back to the beach by waiting a couple of minutes for the right wave, then full throttle we powered towards the beach, riding the wave that broke onto the shore, pushing us high above the waterline.

I set up my hammock at the bar and gathered some firewood for the evening and cooked myself a meal from my supplies for such an occasion.

The wind became quite strong onshore as the afternoon went on but as it became darker the wind dropped. A stunning, long-lasting sunset topped off a great day and as the light faded, I lit my fire and enjoyed the moon reflecting off the water and the waves lapping against the shore. I felt a real sense of tranquility and connection with Mother Earth.

In the morning it was already light when I woke and I could see Alfie’s boat on the water with at least fifty birds including pelicans, circling and sitting on the bow. They were pulling in a fishing net and later I was shown about fifty kilograms of fish that he had caught.

A vehicle came and collected the catch, owners of a local restaurant possibly or local wholesalers,

but before they left Alfie gave me a 30cm fish for my dinner.

Afterwards he picked up the couple from the island and they gave me their left over water and a can of carnation milk, so I was set for the day and decided I would stay another evening.