Poked my head outa the hatch this morning at 0600. Morning light was just hitting the hilltops around this tiny fish camp, Puerto Santo Tomas. I watched as the men started milling about, very slowly, like molasses, as they poured down the hill to the boat ramp, about 15 pescaderos.

20 pangas waited on moorings in the bay. A white van showed up; it must have driven all night over the mountains to get here this early. They unloaded four huge white coolers as two pescaderos rode out to bring up four cages filled to bursting with lobsters. No one was in a hurry, a world apart from the hustle and bustle in San Diego where we were just a few days ago. This is what we came here for.

They all watched as the bugs were counted and loaded into the white van. Off it went with their hard-earned living. They milled about some more, talking and smoking cigarettes, probably discussing lobsters and sea conditions. My guess is that they do this every morning; it seemed they had not a lot to do and all day to do it. Then they got in their boats, two or three men to each one, some wearing life jackets. And left to go bring in their catch, leaving every 10 minutes or so with a welcoming wave and big smile to me, the only gringo on a fancy yatch anchored in their bay.

One panga, the only one with an orange hull, was smoking or steaming as it got close to me. They shut the engine off, took off the cover, splashed some ocean water on it, fiddled, splashed some more water, fiddled a little more and it sputtered back to life, off they went with a hearty wave and smile.

I can only speculate if there were any women in the camp, or children, as I could see none. A couple big cinder block houses painted brightly, but most were small and seemed slapped together with whatever was available. I read in the guide book that these people would treat you like family if given the chance and I felt it. Would be nice to go ashore and visit but we were leaving soon on down the coast to the next picturesque bay and fish camp. It was nice to be here now, sip my tea, observe and off we went to see what’s next.

Tor

Here in Newport Beach I think they must have different anchoring etiquette, or perhaps just for big ol’ power boaters

When we got back from a day excursion yesterday a big stinkpot had anchored right on top of our neighbor, only a boats length away. He’s an older solo sailor from Alaska, sporting a white ponytail and speedo, must be a hardy soul, with an old classic beautifully maintained sailboat. I thought for sure the power boat was just making a lunch stop. No one could ever be quite that rude, as there was plenty of room elsewhere, to stay so close overnight. Gabe said late last night he was in a moral dilemma ‘cuz the boats had swung close together. He felt better as he watched the sailor come on deck, after getting dressed, and let out a few more feet of chain probably grumbling to himself about being in California. Sure enough when I awoke this morning, the wind had swung around offshore and the boats were mere feet apart. Wow. Just heard them having a friendly conversation, no yelling, just communicating. Perhaps a hearty good morning, how’s your coffee or I could hear you snoring last night. To far away to tell. Just saw him let out yet another few feet of chain

We’re outa here today! A few more days and we’ll be in Mexico. Newport Beach is not for me and my crew feels the same.

Tor out