Today I was invited to join Drew, Donna, London, Range, on a trip to Isla De La Piedra (Stone Island). Stone Island is really a large peninsula that lays across the harbor channel a few K’s east of Centro Historico. The departure time is 10:00.
I run into Brittany and Drew at the pool about 9:45. I am out shooting a few morning photos. They have been to breakfast with the family at La Cordeliere. Brittany and River are staying “home” today to enjoy the pool and paint pottery. River has found a little buddy at the pool this week. Together, they enjoy swimming, splashing, and “popping” each other with the soft, colorful foam tubes provided by the activities staff. River loves the water and is a good swimmer. He is a good natured and happy little guy, and his antics at the pool always make me smile.
While I’m talking with Drew and Brittany, London and Range come running from the pottery area. They are “impatiently” waiting to collect finished pieces from yesterday. Drew, noting the time, gives Brittany a hug and kiss, commands the Stone Island crew to “saddle up”, and we move out toward the Villa to meet abuela Donna, and tour guide, Marco. Marco loves the family and is great with the kids. The children adore him and call him “Uncle Marco”. He genuinely, and thoroughly, enjoys the time he shares with the family. Marco has three girls of his own, one of them London’s age. He is no novice at interacting with kids.
When we reach the Villa, Donna and Marco are ready to depart. We load into the van, collectively excited and chattering about the adventure ahead. Marco drives carefully. He points out sights and answers a multitude of questions, as we progress from Emerald Bay toward Zona Dorada and the Malecon; then turn left at El Pollo, something or the other; work our way northeasterly past Centro Historico; and finally arrive at the Stone Island ferry. The ride has taken about twenty minutes.
Upon our arrival at the ferry, we notice several armed soldiers standing next to a high walled structured that is topped with razor wire. Marco tells us that the ferry is adjacent to a Mexican Navy base. After we unload, drew asks me to take a photo of Range with one of the soldiers. Range, like many American boys his age, has a fascination with all things military. Drew served our country as a Marine, and I’m an ex-Army guy, so we also like this stuff. Unfortunately, drew’s polite request for a photo is turned down, so we shrug it off and stroll down the walk to the taquilla (ticket office), where Marco is purchasing our passage to Stone Island. The posted cost per adult is 20 pesos round trip. I’m not sure what it is for the children.
Before boarding the covered 25 foot “fiberglass skiff” that will transport us across the channel to Isla de la Piedra, Marco acquires some fresh pescado, so he can make the group his especial ceviche on the island. We board the vessel, don life jackets, and the “skipper” steers us toward the opposite bank. We pass two or three Mexican Navy ships, two Cruise Liners, and three large shrimp “boats”. They are all in dock, and off to our right. The seas are flat, so it is a smooth ride. We arrive at the Stone Island terminal in less than ten minutes. After disembarking the ferry, Marcus procures a taxi for the group. We hop in the back of a small pick-up with passenger seats, and begin our drive through the dusty streets of, what appears to be, a small seaside village. Tractors, four-wheel ATV’s, horses, and bicycles, seem to outnumber cars and trucks. It’s a sleepy little place in appearance, but “busy” in action, kind of a strange, surreal contrast.
Marco tells us that Stone Island is an agricultural area with complex rules regarding land ownership; even for Mexican citizens, such as himself. He says that he is not allowed to own land here, because his family doesn’t have the “correct” history of agricultural use. I’m speculating that this is something similar to the “subsistence” requirements in Alaska for “preferential use” of natural resources, or the Native Land Claims Act, which limits land ownership, to those of Native blood.
On the flip side, Stone Island is utilized as a popular multi-use destination for tourists and locals. It is beautiful, sparsely populated, and offers fun and varied recreational opportunities. Some of these activities include ATV excursions, horseback riding, banana boating, beach walks, and eating and drinking yourself silly.
After a short, but bumpy ride, we arrive at our island destination, Restaurante Brisas Del Mar. The restaurant is a large, thatch covered, open air structure, with tables and hammocks that could potentially seat a few hundred guests. Today there are fewer than 10 or 15 people including our group. We quickly become the center of attention, as male vendors with large cases of silver jewelry, female vendors with a variety of handmade garments, tattoo artists, and reptile guys, hover over us like moths to a bulb. I snap photos while Donna and the kids barter for goods. Marco is in the background “arranging” with the proprietors. Drew withdraws a few yards, ignores the chaos, and finds relative solitude, by taking in the setting, and ordering drinks for the crew. He is accustomed to this ritual.
Abuela Donna does what loving grandmothers do all over the planet. She provides. For the children first, negotiating the price for a pretty green sun dress for London, and then getting colorful cloth bracelets for both kids. She then peruses and selects a few other items, mostly jewelry. I lose track, as the initial activity around us is somewhat feverish. Donna is enjoying herself. She’s smiling and laughing. “Abuela” is polite and genuine in her interaction with the vendors. She “buys” to add joy to the lives of those less fortunate, and in doing so, supports the local economy. I suspect that most, if not all of her purchases, go to others. This is abuela Donna, and she has my deepest respect. She is a special person.
Marco returns to talk with Drew. I’m taking photos of Range and London who are now bearing a variety of Reptilia in there arms, on their heads, or wrapped around their necks. Snakes on a Plane has nothing on these two! The light is challenging. Many of my shots are underexposed and will require post-processing, but I should be able to resurrect them. The reptile “vendors” hit Drew and Donna up for $5 once, $5 twice, while I’m shooting away. Money comes. Money goes.
One of the “proprietors” arrives on scene. He inquires as to our interest in renting ATV’s. This has been part of the “planned” activity for the day, so we huddle to discuss how many four wheelers we will need, who will ride individually, and who will share. Range wants to drive a four wheeler. I volunteer to act as his co-pilot. Drew and London agree to share a ride. Marcus and Donna go solo. The ATV “wranglers” soon arrive with our gassy plastic and metal “steeds”. They line them up under the canopy, next to our table. After brief instruction, we climb on, start ‘em up, and roll out into the bright sunshine and heat of the beach.
These are Hondas. I own them and ride them frequently at home. From behind Range, I reach to the select shift on the left handlebar with my left hand. With my right thumb, I gently push Range's thumb on the throttle. We accelerate. I let off the throttle slightly and push the up arrow on the select shift. We move into 2nd gear. This process is repeated until we reach 4th gear and are cruising along about 20 mph. Range catches on quickly. He points her straight ahead. I lightly hold onto the machine with one hand, watch for “traffic”, and offer occasional verbal “redirection” to the “pilot” while snapping one-handed pics with my pocket cam.
We cruise along the hard beach next to waters edge. Early on we pass a few couples, several mixed groups on horseback, and many small coveys of “ladies” of all ages out for their morning beach walk. As we pass by the ladies, I snap photos, and gleefully shout out, “Hey Range, more pretty girls!” The “ladies” laugh and wave at us. Range is grinnin’ ear to ear with 400 cc’s under his rear, and I’m lovin’ the day.
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