It was the time of year and season of the moon to walk the beach very early or late.
One morning I was out the door when it was still dark and cool, the only light that of the moon swollen to her fullness. Walked the beach to the muelle, the pier, where there were two early-morning fishermen. Both were glad to show me their nets and their catches.
One man spent most of the early dawn mending a net.
The other, wearing a large trash bag as protection against heavy dew, dropped his net repeatedly, too often bringing up nothing.
At dawn, I returned to my casita at Islandia.
Then that night, after too much dinner, three of us walked back to the muelle. This was closer to a power walk – we had a lot of food to try to work off!
Again, I was walking with only the light of the creamy full moon. I cannot begin to describe the feeling of absolute tranquility. It’s something about the moonlight.
The following morning I left a little later, just as dawn was considering herself. The moon still cast her glow, but dawn was beginning to displace her.
The man wearing the garbage bag was again at the muelle, and he bemoaned the lack of catch. But he had a diversion: three young women from Hermosillo and their Chihuahuas were on the end of the muelle with him. He delighted in teasing them with a fish, waggling it just as they leaned forward for a closer look, yielding shrieks that must have carried half a mile.
Then he passed out the crabs he’d caught. Two of the young women held a crab, alternately delighting in it and screeching when it moved. One got brave enough to put a crab on her arm, but she jump when it began to walk and it tumbled to the pier.
I used their cameras to take pictures of them and snapped a few of my own.
When I left, I heard them running along the beach, telling their dogs, “Corre, corre, corre!” (run, run run). They scampered off, waving as they passed me by.
That evening, another moonlight beachwalk. The muele was filled with people – it was a Friday night during Semana Santa, Holy Week, when all of Mexico heads to the beach. Two young men were tumble-diving off the pier while the young girls clapped and called encouragement. Another man, away from the divers, simply floated. Families, teenagers, lovers. Everyone wanted to roam the beach and muele.
I went a third morning to the muelle at dawn. The walk was not quite so enticing now that the moon was no longer full. The garbage-bag man was there again, again bemoaning his lack of catch. A moment later, though, he called to me – he’d just caught five fish. I watched as he wrestled them out of the tangles of his net.
Morning moonlight walks. What a delightful start of a new day. Evening moonlight walks. What a delightful way to end the day.