…we hopped the bus out of Old Town for the 30 minute ride along the beautiful winding coastline road to Boca de Tomatlan (mouth of the Tomatlan river) the morning of February 21st, where we were meeting up with our friend Jaime from Vancouver. We found Boca to be a tranquil, picturesque fishing village, sleepily preparing for the Sunday onslaught of mostly Mexican families enjoying their Sunday outing. The river flows into a small protected bay here where many small boats were slumbering and many more large brown pelicans were perching on their sides and bows. Locals were knee-deep in the water casting their handlines, cute dogs abundant, restauranteurs setting up beach chairs and umbrellas in preparation.
We followed the masonry steps and dirt pathways curving along the hillside past ramshackle houses, tiendas, and pretty stone cottages. Here and there a stone dock or path led to the water´s edge with a few folks swimming or fishing. A few others on the path: a runner, a lanky swim-trunk-clad dude returning from a swim, an American lady and her friend from Spain who live there all winter. Otherwise alone on our lovely hike, heading into the serene “bush”. Many birds, at least 6 types of butterflies, and a large iguana who posed with me for a photo for only one peso (I left it on the rock for him). We passed 2 adorable beaches on the way accessible only by the path and totally deserted. Lovely white sand and turquoise crystal clear water tempted us but we pushed on to avoid the heat-of-the-day hiking. After sufficient resting and gawking and lingering at each one, of course.
Just before Las Animas, we came upon a compound of thatch roofs, a multitude of stone steps, terraces, verandas, piers. A previously glorious but now defunct resort with a sign “Fantasy Paradise”. Now with water still in the pool and one chained up barking dog but otherwise clearly not operational. The pier and stairways were lovely to wander on: basic and rustic but beautifully crafted.
Las Animas was 2 beaches separated by a headland of residential homes, horses, and construction projects. Beach 1 was deserted, beautiful, palm-lined but too rough to swim when we returned for a dip. Beach 2 was lined with restaurants, local, open air style where you can order a drink and plop down in one of their beach chairs or under a thatch roof for a spell. A pier-dock and many boats parked out front with swimmers to and fro. Mostly Mexicans enjoying a Sunday afternoon, most had arrived on a large, funkily-painted old ferry-converted-to-cruiser-boat. Only an American family with 2 kids had hiked in as we had.
It was a good feeling to be soaking up the rays and salty water with the locals rather than the time-share folks who turn up their noses to the local vendors and avoid the ocean. It felt Real. A guitar and accordion player offering music (they always tried La Bamba for the whites), but we had no extra cash. Sweet men, like street musicians the world over: hard to make a buck and get the respect they deserve. My coconut was bottomless but not cold, so it didn´t refresh me from the long hike (an arduous 2 miles, haha!), but the swim in the ocean was ultra-lovely as was the short nap on the sand following. My favorite combo of refreshing wetness and warming sunshine on my skin, closing my eyes in pure bliss to FEEL completely with all my senses the joy of being human and of being alive.
