The Bay of Zihuatanejo is pretty much a circle with an opening to the ocean at the one o’clock position. Beaches line the shore in increasing quality as you make your way clockwise. It was clear from my guide book that you could walk two thirds of the way around the circle but that a ferry service was required to get to the last beach, Las Gatas (The Cats), just before the opening to the sea.
It wasn’t the three dollar cost of the round trip ferry ride that caused me to wonder if you could walk the whole way to the last beach but my natural inclination to always travel a different route than the one from which I originally came. Geographically, it seemed logical that you could walk all the way to the last beach and return via ferry, but the book mentioned no such option. I decided to at least start the morning walking the first two thirds, an excursion the book did mention was possible, and I was accompanied by both Mexicans and gringos on their morning exercise regimen.
Playa Ropas, meaning Clothes Beach, was named for the rolls of silk that came ashore after a Spanish galleon from the orient sank offshore. Today, the modern conquistadores run the beach from their luxury package hotels. On the positive side, this means the beach is free of the vendors that line most Mexican beaches. Here you can actually relax in the sun without being queried every sixty seconds as to your jewelry or t-shirt needs. My “buenas dias” greetings also changed to greetings of “good morning” as I strolled the beach past pale skinned retirees.
Delighting in the circumstances of my life that brought me on this morning stroll, I was lost in a song when I looked up to see shapes moving along the shoreline in front of me. As I looked more closely, I realized it was people walking, and making good time, along that last third of the shoreline towards Las Gatas beach, a possibility that I had mostly given up on until now. I can’t tell you how many times chance has favored my exploration with unexpected surprise. I was also pleased, of course, to only have to pay for a one way trip on the ferry.
By the time I returned to my hotel, it was 10am. For those of you who are late risers, you will either hate traveling with me or come to terms with the fact that I am going to an experience an entire day before you even wake up. Next on the day’s itinerary was a trip to Ixtapa Island across from the town of Ixtapa about 40 miles north of Zihua. The bus to Playa Linda pier takes you from downtown Zihua through the resort town of Ixtapa. My guide book described Ixtapa as a “carefully manicured place with not a single palm tree out of place”, a description I found to be entirely accurate as the bus rolled by tower after tower of resort hotels. I’d wondered if I’d somehow caught the bus to Cancun instead.
Just past Ixtapa was Playa Linda beach, meaning beautiful beach, a title I found ironic as the murky brown water threw waves of debris along its shore. A ten minute ferry ride to the island brought me to debris of a another sort. Not a sliver of sand was visible on any of the three beaches of this island, hidden beneath a succession of lounge chairs and tables from one end of the beach to the other. A walk down the beach literally meant walking in the surf and dodging between the chairs when a bigger wave charged the shore. The only open walkways between the beaches were flanked by a gauntlet of waiters claiming to offer the “best price” and proclaiming that the best snorkeling was experienced by entering from their beach. I must say that America’s public beaches are so much nicer for not allowing this type of commercial enterprise.
Collapsing in defeat after not being able to find a place to leave my things while I snorkeled, I settled into a chair at one of the restaurants and entered the water to escape the chaos of people onshore. The ocean, however, was obscured with sandy water, and I think I saw more snorkelers than I did fish. After about 15 minutes of some of the worst snorkeling I’d experienced, I retreated from the water and packed my things. Naturally, I had to tip the restaurant for 15 minutes worth of the use of a chair. Usually if I have to pay to use a chair, I do it by ordering food or drink, but I wasn’t hungry or thirsty, and I didn’t want to eat just for the sake of spending some money there. It’s clear to me why this country is so overweight.
I noticed, when I got to the island, that it seemed possible to scramble along the rocks to get away from the beach scene, so I headed off, hoping I’d have the same good fortune I’d had in the morning and find a way around the island. After a couple bends, a sheer cliff told me that not only was this island bigger than I’d thought, but getting around it along the shoreline would be impossible. I saw a path headed up the cliff in front of me and realized I wasn’t the first to attempt this feat.
I hadn’t given up my hope of circumnavigating the island, just of doing it along the shoreline. Scurrying up the cliffs brought an excellent view of the other side of the island and the beach, which I’d so loathed before, actually seemed pleasant from this distance. I was humored to find cactus dotting the island as I had previously only associated them with desert. Unfortunately, I began to wonder if other features of the desert had made their way here: tarantulas, rattlesnakes. I decided to pray that St. Patrick had also visited this island to clear its poisonous reptile population.
The path, which followed the knife edge of a rocky ridge, was not always clear, and I found myself doing a bit of bushwhacking when I heard the rustling of a large animal in the shrubs nearby. Initially, I wasn’t concerned having recognized the rustling as probably that of a deer. It certainly explained the haphazard trail I was following. It did occur to me, however, that there wasn’t enough room on this path for two, and should a spooked deer coming darting down the path, I would surely be knocked down the scree covered cliff to the rocks below.
I became more vigilant and indeed had my suspicions confirmed as I saw a couple of deer moving along the cliffside below. The problem with prey is that it begs the question, “what about predators?”, and I began to wonder what had left behind some of the bleached animal bones I had seen earlier. In the way fear works, I also began to wonder how long it would take to find me if I died up here. I mean no one had any idea of where I headed out to this morning. A few knew I’d come to Zihua, but the problem with never doing things the “normal” way, is that no one would think to look for me on the remote side of an island forty miles from where I was staying. I made a note to be better about letting people know what I was up to.
Besides the deer and the cactus, I shared this side of the island with vultures, who had a pretty good idea of where their next meal was coming from. Once I realized I was following a deer trail, I let go of any hopes that this was a path that was going to take me back to civilization. I did follow a couple fingers of the ever expanding island before going back to a trail I’d seen earlier. It headed down a gully which seemed the most likely route to the beach, other than going back the way I came, something I’ve already mentioned is only a last resort option. Armed with a twig, I made my way down the gully following what appeared to be a man made trail. As it turns out, there were spiders on this island. Not tarantulas, but creepy black and white deals with thorny backs that made them look like they were wearing a seashell. Small but menacing looking, they needed to be cleared from the path in front of me so that I wouldn’t come to find one crawling up my arm to let me know how it felt about my destroying hours of its hard work.
These are the times when coming across signs of civilization, like an empty beer bottle or used toilet paper, brings a sense of relief that you’re almost free of your harrowing journey, but not before I had the most unusual sighting of the day. From inside a discarded tire, came an armadillo. A solitary creature, rooting his way through a combination of underbrush and trash, not acknowledging at all what I’d just been through to get to this point. It scurried off into the woods as I passed.
A few minutes more, and I stepped onto the beach, appreciating a little bit more this time being in the presence of so many humans. Uneventful, in comparison to my island exploits, the bus trip brought me back to town with another day’s worth of pictures and memories.