Punto Arista

Jill wasn't that impressed as we rode into a deserted town, run down and rubbish blowing around. There were one or two people hustling to get us into their restaurants but everybody else was having their siesta as it was about 1430 and the thermometer on the bike was reading 92 °F. We rode up and down the main road stopping at various hotels asking prices. The 280 pesos a night hotel was falling apart and the 1000 pesos a night didn't offer anything more than the 280 pesos hotel except it wasn't falling apart. We met a couple of gringos on push bikes and asked where they were staying and were directed to José's, a Canadian who has been living here since 1982 and created a camp ground with Cabȃnas that we read about in our footprints guide, but couldn't find until directed. (He complains he isn't busy but hasn't got round to putting up any signs directing you to were he is.) What was going to be a weeks stay started with 2 nights because Jill thought a place by the sea would be very different. Cabȃnas on the beach and a nice Malecon to walk along, all swept clean and tidy. However once she settled in and did some reflection it wasn't as bad as she first thought. The reality rarely lives up to the dream and we signed up for another 5 nights. It is lovely just to be still, to watch the sun rise, to battle with the waves in the heat of the day, to eat Mangoes and lie in a hammock trying to learn Spanish from Pimsleur Spanish 1 recorded on the Ipod. But first Nancy needed a service, so I spent 2 half days striping down and filling up everything that needed stripping down and filling up. I stitched up the wind shield that had broken when the bike fell over in Culiacan and re-fixed the instrument console that had broken 2 of it's p-bracket fasteners. Having got everything back together we set of to do some shopping and Nancy was very sick. She spluttered and wheezed, belching out black smoke; the more I revved her the worst it got so without provisions I was back to taking Nancy apart. The electrical side was working fine so thought it had to be fuel. I had stripped the carburettors down and cleaned them so something I did wasn't right. I'm sure there is supposed to be a little brass bit that sits in the carb housing that the main jet holds in place? It's missing on both carbs but as Nancy was working fine when we arrived, they must have fallen out into the sand without me knowing, when I was doing the service. These bits are about the size of a small finger nail and hunting around for a few minutes I found one in the grass and sand underneath where I was working on the bike. I was then able to show Jill what we were looking for and we spent the next 3 hours on our hands and knees searching the area with head torches as it was now dark. Other members of the camp site came over to help but by 21.30 nothing had been found, so we called it a night. I had a restless night dreaming of little round bits of brass that I couldn't get hold off and woke to resume the search early next morning. A French Canadian couple said they prayed late into the night that we might find the bit and within another half and hour, right were we had looked at least 5 times the night before, the bit jumped out of the sand at me. What a relief. Praise the Lord. Incidentally the French Canadian couple lost their keys later that day but luckily found them after another long search. So now Nancy is running fine again. Enough words though so here is a picture taken from my seat at the bow of a canoe that we hired from José and paddled down the mangrove lagoon behind the camp site with Peter our German neighbour. We set off at 0630 with the dawn chorus and life was everywhere. As the sun rose birds dried their wings while other waited patiently for breakfast. An amazing place.
So we talk; we listen and try and learn Spanish; fight with the waves of the Pacific ocean, which is 5 minutes walk away; have siestas, and don't visit any Churches or ancient monuments. We will have to leave here sometime but not yet.