After departing Culiacán, I made my way past the Tropic of Cancer to the southernmost point of Sinaloa – a place called Teacapán. My friend Cyril and I had attempted to camp here the previous year while on a road trip, but didn’t make it to a suitable campsite before dark. And this time wouldn’t be much different. I was late in departing Jorge’s (around 1 pm), so I didn’t reach the township of Teacapán until right at sundown. It took driving down three streets until finding a suitable place to camp for the night. But I wasn’t quite certain what the place would be like during the day, as it appeared to be something of a public parking lot (just a semi-grassy area on the edge of the sandy beach).
I generally have an uncanny ability to sleep in well after the sun is high in the sky when camping. And this Four Wheel Camper is no exception to the rule. I can block out the sun and turn on the exhaust fan to keep the interior cool. But this morning, nature called early so I had to make a quick trip outside. What I then witnessed I was lucky to capture on photo. I haven’t witnessed a fraction of the sunrises compared to the sunsets in my life. So this was truly a rare moment. And after witnessing this I knew I couldn’t pack up and head out any time soon.
For the next several days, I took time to meditate and walk the beach with Carter – several kilometers in each direction. Teacapán draws birders from all over the world, as it’s a natural sanctuary for migratory species seeking refuge in this tiny peninsula with costal estuaries and mangroves. Personally I’m not big into bird watching, but I did enjoy seeing so many species that were new to me; capturing them from afar with my telephoto lens. Plus, it was fun to watch Carter unsuccessfully chase flocks on the beach, grinning ear-to-ear and getting a good workout in the process.
One evening I was able to capture the moonrise with my zoom lens. It was a full moon, and I was amazed that with this little Lumix I was able to photograph the detail of the moon’s cratered surface. Based on the times when I saw the moon setting on previous mornings, I set my alarm to get up early to capture this same full moon setting. As you can see in the second photo, the ‘man in the moon’ is upside-down compared to the first.
To further my progress south, I ventured into a new time zone and the state of Nayarit to find a good beach camp at San Blas. Previously, I only knew of this place from the famous pier that the Mexican rock group Maná sang about. I’m sure they get plenty of tourists asking about it. I neither ask for nor saw this landmark, but did find an excellent beach camp to myself where I spent the next few days slowing the pace down even more. And thus I continued my study of sunrises and sunsets, at the cost of hundreds of mosquito and gnat bites. But not just any gnat – these were no-see-ums (jejenes). One evening when capturing some big fishing boats a ways off shore silhouetted against the setting sun, I set up my tripod to capture the moment. At just the same moment, the message went out to all local gnats that there was a solitary gringo with gourmet blood just waiting to be bit. I could only withstand several seconds at a time trying to focus my camera before having to run around like a crazy person, swatting at myself and the air around me. Even Carter was rolling around in the sand trying to rid himself of these buzzing pests. What a sight for passers by.
One day while rounding the end of the beach where the freshwater estuary met the Sea of Cortez, I explored a footpath that led to a nice inlet. I noticed some swimmers in the water, and initially thought it was a group of tourists snorkeling. Soon I realized it was locals diving for oysters. Several were hanging out on shore, so I approached them to chat about what they were doing. This was the first time in my travels that I randomly walked up to a group of strangers and started talking. But it wasn’t long before we were laughing and telling jokes. I’m so thankful that my Spanish is at a level where I can chat stress-free with locals, being able to use regional slangs to break the ice and make people smile.
I hadn’t broken out my snorkel gear yet, and thought this would be the perfect opportunity. Plus, I hadn’t really done any volunteer work yet (Guanajuato would be my first “planned” place to volunteer, so I was on the lookout to find other places along the way before I arrived there). I asked one gentleman in the group if I could return with my snorkel equipment to learn how to dive for oysters, and help them to fill their bags. He said that would be fine, and explained to me what else I would need for the task. In addition to the regular snorkel kit (mask, snorkel, fins, and wetsuit), these guys each had a small inner tube with a net in the center. Attached to that was a long rope tied to a sharpened metal stake, which they used to break the oysters free from the rocks. This metal stake I was lacking, but grabbed a 2-foot crowbar from my toolkit and tied this with a 20-foot rope to a kickboard (that I packed for swim workouts). I ended up returning the following morning, but sadly the conditions were not optimal for oyster diving. It was a cloudy and rainy day, and visibility underwater was about 10 inches. The bottom of the lagoon was ranged from about 5 to 10 feet deep. After a few fruitless hours of scouring the rocks for oysters, I decided to head back to shore. Hopefully better luck next time. I really admire these guys for the hard work they do to make a living like this.
What a beautiful place – southern Sinaloa and Nayarit. I will never forget that sunrise in Teacapán nor the sunsets in San Blas.





















































































































