Map in hand, a Guaymas taxi driver who speaks better English than his partner...offers to try and locate the mysterious Las Playitas. I have no clue which way is which...are we going in circles. are we going into the Sonoran desert?...I just don't know.
My buddy Bill said "Just head for the sticks" meaning just head for the cluster of sailboat masts in the marina. Awesome tip...if it was daylight, but it's not. The driver heads down a road that he thinks might deliver some degree of success. We hit a dead end and turn around. My driver by now seems more sincere than sinister. I now trust that he is serious about getting me delivered to the boatyard.
Finally we get to a point where if you squint real hard in the twilight, a guy can make out the shadows of a boatyard. We ease down the flood ravaged dirt road.
I bail out of the cab and ask the driver to stand by.
Walking up to the steel mesh fence, it's not hard to notice that there are dozens of sailboats...and not one iota of human activity. That's a problem.
So, to solve the problem...I start yelling "Bill...Bill Brooks!!...Bill...it's Mike...where the fuck are you!!??"
At that point there were several things that I was unaware of.
#1.. the boatyard had more occupants than just Bill and Miriam...lots more.
#2..the boatyard had security people.
#3 ..the boatyard was full of dogs.
A very unhappy Mexican security guy came up to the fence and started in on me in Spanish. Dogs followed him, barking and nipping at anything that seemed to move. I started to explain my situation, but of course it was in the wrong language. A very honest apology, but to no good effect.
I retreated strategically back across the dirt to my taxi driver, who was now very unimpressed with me. I asked the taxi driver to explain that I was just looking for my Canadian friend...and that all was going to be just fine.
The driver ( God bless him ) came up to the fence to try and explain the actions of the gringo. Just at the right moment..in the darkness, a voice.."Mike...Mike..what are you doing...is that you?"
Bill was on his boat and heard the ruckus..dogs barking and security guys cursing. Bill and I met for the first time, face to face, in years on opposite sides of a Mexican wire fence, in the wee hours of the night.
The yard security man was glad to go back to watching the local soap operas without having to shoot anyone, and the taxi driver was happy to get paid and return back to town.
Onboard the sailboat, MoonHunter..Bill and Miriam and I catch up on stories and drink excellent cheap wine and phenomenally cheap and yummy beer.
The apartment that I had made provisions to rent is not ready yet, ( it's a Mexico thing ) so I set in to stay a few nights on the boat.
In the morning, I begin one of the most pleasant and heavenly times of my life..a carefree, hassle free time in a dusty corner of a small Mexican town. I loved every minute of every day.
|The Marina Seca dryland boatyard in Guaymas|
|It didn't take long for me to sniff out a rusty truck to photograph. As it turns out, it was in the backyard of my new favourite lunch hang-out|
|Commercial fishboats in dry storage|
|A rusty assembly of fishing boats in the Guaymas bay|
|That lovely steel motor yacht is for sale if you know anyone in the market|
|Abuelo's...that's where you want to go for meals...|
|Different view of the apartment...the boatyard is just off the the right|
|From the deck of Bill's boat|
|Me, slaving away....sanding and scraping|
|Bill Brooks...El Capitan|
|Britt's stepmom...photographed by Brittany|
|Can't remember her name...but I'll get it later....she and her husband and daughter are from Belgium|
|Mexican boatyard puppies....photographed by Britt|
|View from the back of the apartment that I will be living in soon|
|If you are a fan of sardines...the Guaymex processing plant is just a stones throw away.|
Here is a bit of a tour in the hills behind the town of Guaymas. This is across the bay from the boatyard.