Day 52

Morning came and we rolled our bikes out of the hotel room. Today we ride for Mulegé. One of the towns I had heard good things about from folks on the road in past weeks. I felt optimistic.

We were out of breakfast items so we dropped into town again hoping to have more luck than last night. We found a corner cafe booth and I had an empanada before going across the street to the panadería to get something sweet. Felt like a kind in a candy store with so many breaded treats not known to me, pointing "I'll have that one!"

I grabbed a stack of tortillas from the squeaky machine at the tortillería down the road and was so distracted by the way it was spitting them out one by one, I had to ask twice how much it was. 10 tortillas, 16 pesos. Soft, warm and supple.

The road was good out of town and there was grass along the road of many brilliant shades of green. Something about it reminded me of the summer before and the shrubs on the hill almost looked like sagebrush if I tried hard enough. I admit to an occasional bout of homesickness. This was a strong one. But we had a tailwind and we flew right by.

Not having far to go, we talked pleasantly riding side by side for a while and saw a sign for San Bruno, and so decided to take a rest there. It was a small village, with only one store, but it seemed well and there was a comforting scent about the place. On the water there were several fishing boats tied up and we talked to a few fishermen as we snacked on the seawall. Isla San Marcos was crisp on the horizon.

In the afternoon we rode at a distance and before long rolled into a river valley filled with palms. There was a large plaster gate over the road. Mulegé. A grand entrance. We rode through town and made our way to El Restaurante Pancho Villa, where we had heard there was camping for cyclists. We asked a few men sitting on the sidewalk and we were directed to the end of the road nearby the ocean. We rode it and found what looked to be a thatched house without any sort of sign. I approached and a white guy came out. "Looking for Pancho?" We were. "He closed down the restaurant but he lives over there still if you want to see him." He seemed to think I knew the man personally as he told me the whereabouts of his wife and children, updating me on their lives. That was all fine, so we went to see what we could find.

Down the road there seemed to be an abandoned cabana, a ramshackle toilet and shower, and firepit. We found the house and there were engine parts and fishing nets, foam, empry crates and all sorts of other junk laying around. Two friendly dogs, but no Pancho. So we set up camp and hoped he might come by later.

It was hot and early in the afternoon still, so we went for a swim. Could not have been a more perfect temperature. And on the shore, a treasure trove of shells. We wanted to take so many home, but instead took a photo of our favorites.

Needing water and food for the next days, we rode back to town and made a stop at the mission. It was across the river from town, and a path lead there across a small dam. The building was closes but through a crack in the door we could see inside. From a viewpoint nearby, the whole valley lay before us, somehow reminding me of a depiction of Earth during the time of the dinsosaurs.

We got our things at the market and asked a man sitting outside if there was a pescadería in town. He wasn't sure and called across the street to his friend Javier. Javier said go around the corner and ask the fat man. He sells shrimp and scallops. So we did and sude enough a rather large fellow was there. "We heard you sell seafood." It began to feel like a drug deal. He brought out 3 large backs of shrimp and scallop from inside. All fresh. We bought a half kilo of scallops for a good price amd rode home with our price thinking of how to cook them.

Lluc set about making a fire with palm fronds and I boiled up lentils and rice. There was a grill laying nearby and it worked perfectly. Voilá. Escallops asados en arroz y lentajes.

Just then, Pancho showed up. He  didn't seem to mind at all that we had made out selves at home and were using his grill to make a fire with wood from his trees. We offered him some fresh ones to have for himself and he accepted. Later on he brought be up to the house and I met his sons, each if whom we simply called "Joven." He had lived there all his life, a fisherman through and through. I told him we were heading to Bahía Concepción. 'It's all beautiful' he said. 'A gem of the coast.'

It was a lovely night and I stayed up late writing under the stars. The waves crashed over the hill and the most gentle of brezes still moved theough the palms. This was a good day in Baja.