After eating breakfast while taking in the lovely bay, Perry, the co-owner of Casa Tortuga, joined us and said in a matter-of-fact tone, “I’m not busy this morning – you know, being retired and all – and I would be more than happy to take you on a tour of the area.” Since we did not have wheels but did enjoy his company, we immediately accepted the offer.
Perry first drove us to the northern side of Nuevo Kino, an area with great ocean views, volcanic landscapes, and a white church perched atop a hill. The area is no doubt being built up; a gated community is under construction as I write. Unfortunately, the cool morning air and overcast sky hurried us back into the comfort of Perry’s vehicle. We drove through the desert viewing volcanic peaks that I yearned to scale ,as well as a humorously-situated desert golf course, without grass but not devoid of small synthetic putting greens, all punctuated with numbered flags.
We then headed to the fishing village of Kino Viejo,. There I was disappointed as the town appeared somewhat ramshackle and run-down. The local pier had vendors selling the daily catch and a few trinkets and the village was mellow but not beautiful. Even the beach in front of old Kino leaves something to be desired. The sand is more rocky and shell-laden than Kino Nuevo; boats line the sand leaving no room to walk along the shoreline.
We passed a few restaurants, checked out an art shop, and ate a couple of beef-head and bean tacos. We decided to walk along the beach back to New Kino. On the sand we met a few young teen boys who were playing on the beach. They were freaking out as thunder and lightening began to fill the distant sky. Still, we managed to get them into a rock- throwing competition to determine who could keep a rock in the air the longest.
My job was to be the counter. The winning time was eight seconds. With more roaring thunder, we continued back to the Casa Tortuga, attempting to avoid the rain. It eventually caught us and we spent most of the rest of this Thanksgiving Day under the veranda of our patio relaxing and reading books. Later that night we went to the closest restaurant, Pargo Rojo (Red Snapper) . We enjoyed excellent fish dishes and garlic chicken. The waiters were friendly and the ambiance basic.
The following day we woke up and headed to hike to the surrounding peaks. We turned from the main road where a painted sign read “Mariscos Judy” and continued inland until we reached the base of the mountain. As we walked further into the cacti-laden desert, we could not help but picture imaginary views from make-believe windows of nonexistent houses. We then headed upward. Two peaks became four and we were surrounded by volcanic detritus. We enjoyed the view and then headed back to prepare lunch.
We relaxed the remainder of the day and decided to join the local expatriates at Club Deportivo, followed by dinner at La Casa Blanca. When we arrived at Club Deportivo, we were shocked. Over one hundred retired North Americans were playing cards, socializing, and consuming very reasonably priced cocktails. Unsurprisingly, not a single person had ever met or even heard of Maury, the miner in Mongolia who’d told us about Kino. An emcee was on stage getting everyone revved. The place had a little bit of a Club Med feel but this was no all-inclusive resort. We met several friendly people that evening. First I spoke with Lee and Diane Ackerman, a couple who began their world trip after retiring but never made it past Kino. Lee served up stiff rum and cokes along with fluid conversation. I also spoke to John and Judy Hazen, a couple from Oregon who have a daughter working as a teacher in Thailand.
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Article first published as Bahia De Kino: Part II, “The Realization” on Technorati.