Getting ready for camping is foreplay… it holds a magic all its own, like prepping to do drugs, have sex, or other equally awesome things… the wait can be excruciating, but the payoff is always worth every minute. Dangerous. Challenging. Rewarding. Camping is all these things to us, and we are trying to do it as often as we can this year. The Libertine Camping Club (us and our friends, that’s who!) went camping pre-Andrea’s birthday not too long ago, and spent 5 days in a sand, wave and stingray ridden paradise. I journaled alot of the trip, and here is a nibble … one day in the life…
Day 4 - Friday: Woke groggy and happy, remembering in blurs a sexy day, a Tequila fueled night, and daze before spent joyously with friends and family. While sleeping in a tent isn’t always perfect, this trip was pretty great sleeping. Last night was a slight execption as I woke thinking I smelled shit in the tent. I didn’t see anything thru drunk-sleep eyes, and quickly went back to bed. Morning light brought to “light” the sweet little shit pile and vomit all over the bed. I guess Dulce didn’t enjoy the fresh fish dinner as much as the rest of us.
Hot coffee and cereal bring on the day and we begin to prepare for a whole lot of nothin’… as daytime napping and putting the baby down has been a chore in the “steam-room” tent, I took it upon myself to hang our hammock. Best. Idea. Ever. In an adjacent ramada , up went a temple to relaxation. I was a fool not to hang her sooner - that will never happen again. Today will be all about the hammock, this I swear…. As the fishermen pull up to shore from their first morning outing, and Andrea heads off with Maxxi and the dogs to do some yoga, I almost instinctively aim out to help Los Pescadores pull their boat up. The tide is very high this morning, the reason being tonight’s full moon I’m told (and assumed), so its a bitch getting the lancha up… Fisherman Gab’s got the drill down, and I move planks, and place 2 liter bottles of water in a dance like rhythm below the boat, slowly moving this 1/2 ton boat 30 ft up the sand. 3 guys, 2 planks, 2 bottles of water. We also move 6 iron anchors, a huge cooler of fish, 6 nets (much heavier and bloodier than I would have thought) and then we smoke a joint each. Yes. He gives us each one, and lights us up. Hello sailor! We sit and talk for a while, they are very interested in us promoting a campsite/horseback venture. I think its a great idea, but I’m stoned, and can’t be trusted. I say goodbye, and walk back to camp, empty-handed. No fish. Oh well, we ate well the night before, and I feel richer from another great experience in Mexico. I return to camp and take a Tequila shot to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, put some Clamato in a Modelo can, and get heavy on the hammock, with pen and paper in hand… another day ahead…
The Love Cult in our own corner of paradise…
Andrea and Maximo enjoying the temple…
Maximo “I ate the eyeballs” Villarrubia
Andrea high above the stingrays, and right before the wave
