It was 1:30 in the afternoon when I hit the main highway again. All of those detours were burning up the day.
Once you get past Pochutla, those curves and turns straighten out. Visibility is great. You can let the bike rip and ignore those silly 30 kmh signs just like everybody else. The downside of a straight highway, which I had never considered before, is the wind. The boogie board causes a bit of a drag to begin with and every transport truck or bus that came by gave a mean smack. I was forced to pull over and readjust my strap when the wind pulled the helmet right off my head. It doesn't work as well dangling off the back.
A little self-awareness can come in handy and I realize I am neither the best driver in the world or the smartest person. That's why I quickly faced the fact that my plan to document the scenic journey on video with the little Sony in my left hand was the worst idea I'd had so far that day and gave the whole thing up.
That is one video that will never be made. It wasn't exactly a matter of driving one-handed as one and a half-handed but that still didn't feel adequate. The wind was so strong. I wanted a tighter grip for those power blasts from transport trucks. At a certain point, it all becomes flat and bland anyways.
Well, well. I made it alive.
After all that travelling, turning around wasn't an option. I'd been forewarned that prices would have risen for Semana Santa but I hadn't realized how bad it would be. This is the place I stayed at last time I was here. It's not bad and I was prepared for a price hike but not triple. Sheesh.
It was the same all the way down Zicatela. What I brought with me wouldn't be enough so I headed into town for a bank machine. As it turned out, there were more affordable places on the hill. I'll check this area out again for low season. My first instinct is always to get a place as close to the beach as possible but it's really no hardship to walk a little way.
I ended up at Hotel Naxhielly for about what I'd been hoping to spend. Nothing spectacular but the people who ran it were very accomodating. He had no parking lot but he let me pull the scooter in past the gate before he locked up for the night. There was a small pool.
The day was still young. Time enough for another beach or two. I headed up the steep hill to Playa Carazzalillo. A horn tooted and I pulled to the side to let a taxi motor pass and his passenger screamed something angry and threatening in Italian at me. I smiled and shrugged apologetically; for what, I don't know but road rage has to stop somewhere and trust fund brats can get pretty mean and erratic with all the drugs and alcohol they can afford. Try to avoid their attention.
I met so many people coming up the stairs to the beach as I was going down, I thought the place was going to be vacant. Hardly. Great swim.
I was feeling so tired but I steered the scooter to a place called Puerto Angelito only because I'd never been there before. This was the heart of Semana Santa where the density of population was at its worst. I almost made it to the bottom of the driveway when I was scared off by the snarl of buses jammed in together and all the exhausted sun drunk people weaving up the hill. I was too tired myself to deal with that. Someone was bound to get hurt. Somewhere during the journey, the bike started acting oddly. The accelerator had gone quite stiff. I had to give it a much harder yank and, when I did, the bike had a tendency to jump ahead unpredictably. The worst thing I could have done would have been to take that bike any further.
The buses and camionettas at the bottom weren't all there was. There were more parking lots, mostly full, all the way up the drive. I parked at the top and hiked down a trail. I didn't stay. I didn't take a picture. It's a tiny beach. Too too crowded. When any place gets this crowded, it's a ghetto. Wikipedia says the color of the water here "varies from emerald green to turquoise blue." No surprise. I expect Semana Santa is the emerald green season and it eventually returns to turquoise blue after a few tides take out all the urine.
I was fading at this point. I felt as tired as everybody else looked. Time for dinner, a short walk along Playa Principal under a big bright moon and straight to bed. Back at the hotel, families were still enjoying the pool. Children were having such a great time, splashing and laughing. My room was right off the pool but they didn't keep me awake. They probably would have played there all night if Mom hadn't called it quits. I heard the first and last squawk of protest against bedtime and then complete silence for the rest of the night.
Holy smokes. That was seven beaches in one day.
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