Agua Verde - Where the Water is Green and the Town is Brown

For the past three days we have been anchored in the lovely bay of Agua Verde. We've taken advantage of some excellent hiking and snorkeling, but nobody warned us about the NOISE!

To be fair, Agua Verde is a fishing village. Now we know exactly what that means. Think very LOUD pangas that roar into and out of the bay at all hours of the day and night. The bait pangas go out around sunset to fish for calamari to use as bait; then they come pounding back in a few hours later. The fishing pangas start leaving around 3:00 a.m. and are generally all gone by 7:30 a.m. Big trucks rumble down the dirt road, backing their rattling trailers into the surf, then dropping their pangas into the water. Gear is heaved into the boats, the gigantic outboards roar to life and the pangas blast out of the bay in a flurry of engine noise and boat wakes. They come pouring back into Agua Verde at the end of the day, loading their catch of almost exclusively big groupers into big trucks that head for the city of Constitution.

In addition to the fishermen, the afternoon we arrived, some modern and expensive 4X4 trucks crunched down the dirt road and noisily set up camp on a beach across from us. This group of young hombres, visitors from Cabo San Lucas, spend their day drinking beer, playing Mexican Pop, American Rock from the eighties, and Frank Sinatra at full volume from the time they wake up until the time they go to bed. When not drinking on the beach they are water skiing in circles around our boat. All of their activities are accompanied by yelling and hooting at the tops of their lungs.

Even the fish are loud. Last night schooling mullet fish kept jumping up and slapping themselves against the hull. We wonder if they are suicidal or just showing off for each other.

This evening we decided to walk into town to see some of the local color. We stumbled up a dusty road and were surprised to find a small Mini-Mart that actually carried some decent looking fruits and vegetables which we purchased. We were told there was a restaurant but there was nothing to drink there, and the Mini-Mart was out of beer, so we opted for a couple of sodas.

Feeling brave, we headed to the "restaurant". While we waited for the cook to prepare our meal, fish being the only choice, we were entertained by grandpa who scratched his belly, hocked a lugie, and clipped his fingernails nearby. He redeemed himself somewhat when he later chased off the cows that threatened to migrate through our patio. We were served our meal which consisted of a few strips of fried fish (which we'll admit tasted very fresh), a stiff blob of unheated refried beans, decent tortillas and passable pico de gallo. We shared our table with a family of ants, their cousins the flies, a diseased cat and some dusty and energetic mutts. What can we say? It was an experience of local color overload.

After dinner we made a bee-line to Cinnabar, engaged in the preemptive strike of a big spoonful of Pepto Bismal, poured ourselves a drink, and are now crossing our fingers for a comfortable night.

Much as we hate to leave Agua Verde, we'll probably tear ourselves away tomorrow and continue south. Not sure where our next anchorage will be, but I'm guessing it will NOT be a fishing village. Not if we can help it.

We are posting this via Single Side Band radio, so hopefully the picture comes through. The white building behind me with windows missing and no door is the restaurant kitchen. Really. The Coleman cooler in the corner next to the mop? That's the refrigerator. Really.