Nobody home? Our welcoming committee left behind his exoskeleton when he saw us coming!

Sometimes, feeling at home is as simple as slipping into a once-visited harbor. With the Mazatlan crossing behind us, and a week or so of intermittant heavy winds ahead, we drifted happily into Ensenada de Los Muertos at sunset, startled to be the only boat in the anchorage.

Looking over the abandoned bulwarks where ships of old took on silver ore, to Pelican Moon laying comfortably at anchor.

Renamed Bay of Dreams by developers, this well-protected harbor was originally named Cove of the Dead, ostensibly for the great dead-head mooring anchors sunk into the bay which allowed cargo ships of the past to rest securely while receiving silver ore mined from the nearby mountains. The old name better honors the 18 Chinese sailors who died of yellow fever here in the late 1800s after being denied landing permission in La Paz. We think the name Los Muertos is appropriate if only because of all the dead, once-massive cardon cactus that line the roads of the development here, apparent victims to the impacts of road construction upon their roots.

Walking the sad development road last year.

Last year, we were struggling with a boat maintenance issue when we arrived, and it colored our experience. Funny what a difference some time can make. This time around, instead of walking the depressing golf course road, we strolled the white sand beach and found the residential and boutique hotel development for which the cactus died. At least the building phase of what was accomplished is well-done, for the ground-hugging buildings are tasteful and not intrusive when viewed from the water.

The clouds dissapated for half a day, and Wade rowed out to the reef and caught a couple of triggerfish for dinner.

The weather was a bit cool this time around, so the next day we decided to take a walk into the hills, following the dirt roads leading through spectacular desert to several ocean cliff mansions. We approached a signed guard gate, fully expecting to be turned back, but the guy inside waved us on through. I asked him if there were good views ahead, to which he replied “nada.” Familiarity really can breed contempt, as evidenced by this photo from one of the fine vistas we encountered:

Got a couple of million dollars lying around? For Sale!

Upon on our return to the beach, it seemed like chasing a giant plate of nachos with some cervezas would be a good idea. It was as tasty as we remembered from last year, and the people were just as friendly. It really is good to be home!