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Paddling and ceviche

October 19, 2010

grinding stone from ancient people of Baja

Less wind this morning; Alvaro prepares hot coffee on the Coleman camp stove and I guzzle it down. Granola is in a large zip-lock bag and it flies away as I spoon it onto my yogurt and fresh fruit covering Alvaro with what looks like powdery snow. He just laughs and says it is okay.  We all lounge about, I think I am the only one that slept well despite several visits to both Paco and the ladies bathroom all in the dark. We go on a hike past a fresh water well complete with bucket and home-made windlass. I am very sore on my right side and stop here while the others continue up the hill. I hear a wren and hope to see one in the fig trees nearby but no luck.

Lunch was a wonderful ceviche made from yellow-tail and a cactus salad similar to a 3 bean salad. Our second breakfast that morning was quesadillas made from aserado cheese, a soft stringy cheese much like mozzarella.

The group further down the beach have walled tents with solar cells, huge sun showers and huge kitchen with probably real appliances. The guides and cooks all seem to know each other well and there is a lot of borrowing of foodstuffs and trading of stories.

We pack up and Carol and I ride the skiff to our new campsite on Isla Partida, an island separated from Espiritu Santos by a narrow channel at low tide. Packing the boat with all the gear is an interesting spectacle with everything needing to fit in just so. The paddlers take off and we empty the garbage pail and Paco far in the middle of the Sea of Cortez. We unload the skiff at our new campsite and I thought about putting up our tent but got no further in the project but good intentions. Early in the week, we discovered identifying the path to Paco and putting up our tent was best done in the daylight and preferably not after supper. Sunsets were spectacular along with the moon-rises but still it was very dark very quickly.

The paddlers appeared and we went out for a short run around the bay. Glen and I went out in one kayak, Carol and Don in another while Sue took out a single. The water here is so clear—we saw trigger fish, Sgt. Majors, tiny minnows and then surprised a group of tiny flying fish. There was a small blue footed Boobie colony, their feet a brilliant turquoise blue against the orangey red of the rocks. A kingfisher scolded us as we paddled near him.

We have ceviche again tonight—it is so tasty and so fresh.

Paco is up the hill behind a cactus, a challenging trip during the day as the rocky path is quite unstable. The moon and Jupiter are out and Don patiently points out constellations.

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