Adventures in Mexico
April 2026
Tuesday, April 14, 2026 - La Paz
As I’ve mentioned before, cruising isn’t always the carefree, wind-in-your-hair lifestyle people imagine. This morning, John dove headfirst (literally) into a couple of less glamorous boat projects: a stubborn head pump and a broken stair. The head was one of those jobs no one envies. After swapping out parts and offering up a hopeful “let’s see if that works,” he emerged at last.
Meanwhile, I had established my own survival strategy - lavender air freshener generously sprayed onto a Covid mask - while I worked away on the blog. When John finally came up and saw me in my makeshift “hazmat chic,” it earned a well-deserved laugh from both of us. Without all the proper tools on hand, the stair repair became more of a “to be continued,” but he made some progress.
With chores behind us, we rewarded ourselves with a walk along the Malecón. This time, it felt noticeably quieter than our December visit. Under the intense midday sun, it became clear why - most people wisely retreat during the heat and reappear later, when the day softens into evening.
In the evening we invited Inga and John from Aurora over to Nirvana for sundowners - a tradition we enjoy. Good company, easy conversation, and a gentle harbor backdrop made for a perfect reset after the morning’s efforts.
Later, John and I headed to Bismarkcita for dinner, where we shared a memorable seafood feast: a scallop shooter to start, followed by pescado relleno, a whole fish stuffed with seafood and baked in foil. It was as delicious as it sounds. Our server, Gabi, was cheerful and attentive, adding to the experience.
After dinner, we stopped by La Cayetana, a tequila shop, to pick up a few gifts, then took a leisurely stroll along the Malecón. By now, the city had come alive. Cars cruised the long waterfront in a lively parade - engines rumbling, music blasting, and, in true local fashion, kids happily leaning out of windows without a seatbelt in sight. Along the promenade, families, couples, and groups of friends filled the walkway - strolling, skating, scootering - everyone out enjoying the cooler evening air.
It’s an undeniably heartwarming scene… full of life and energy. Nevertheless, we looked forward to flying home to visit our family and friends.
Monday, April 13, 2026 La Paz / La Cruz Marina
This morning we set out on a short hop into La Paz Harbor to fuel up and check in to our slip at Marina de La Paz. Though the distance was minimal, the harbor was anything but quiet - boat traffic was heavy, turning what should have been a quick jaunt into a slow and cautious dance.
Arriving at the fuel dock, we found a small flotilla already in progress: two large boats actively fueling and two more waiting their turn. I yelled to the attendant to confirm our place in line and was promptly asked if we had a reservation. We did not, but fortunately, he placed us in the queue. Holding position in a sailboat near a busy harbor entrance is no small feat. For the next 30 minutes, John expertly maneuvered Nirvana, pivoting and adjusting constantly to avoid incoming traffic. By the time our turn came, we were both feeling the heat - literally and figuratively.
At Marina Costa Brava, the fueling process includes a floating containment string placed around each boat to catch any stray fuel or oil - a thoughtful touch. Jorge, the attendant, was both chatty and efficient, and before long, we were topped off and ready for our next challenge: navigating into the harbor and finding our slip.
By noon, we were safely tucked into our temporary home for the next few days. As returning customers, we were warmly welcomed by the staff at Marina de La Paz and quickly completed the check-in formalities. With the essentials handled, we turned our attention to more pressing matters - lunch and a much-needed nap.
Our friends aboard Aurora were docked just across from us, so plans quickly came together for an evening cruisers’ happy hour on the dock, followed by dinner at a local favorite, Toro Güero. At happy hour, we had the pleasure of meeting Mac and Mary Shroyer, the original developers of Marina de La Paz. The marina holds the distinction of being the first floating marina on the Baja California Peninsula, and Mac is widely known as the “Father of the Mexican panga” for his influence on small-boat design in the region. Their son, Neil, now runs the operation. Earlier during our check-in, I met Neil’s daughter, who encouraged me to introduce myself to Mary, a fellow retired teacher. We met and instantly found common ground, enjoying a warm and easy conversation.
As the sun dipped lower, our group of six set off away from the Malecón, walking up Mariano Abasolo toward Toro Güero. The restaurant lived up to its reputation with excellent service and beautifully prepared sea bass, offered in a variety of styles: ajo, a la plancha, mango, and more. It was a festive evening, tinged with a bit of nostalgia, as we celebrated Will and Tim’s final night in town before their return to Canada.
Sunday, April 12, 2026 – La Paz/ Pichilingue/Bahía Falsa
Pichilingue (Bahía Falsa) may be one of the calmest anchorages we’ve experienced—so still it felt almost like floating on a pond. We woke to an unlikely duet: birds chattering in the mangroves and the distant rumble of semi-trucks rolling along the nearby highway. An unusual combination, perhaps, but one we’ve come to accept as part of the rhythm here. And truthfully, we were happy and completely at ease.
Curious to explore, we paddled our boards over to Playa Tesoro Escondido, the small beach nearby, to check out the palapas. It was still early, and the restaurant hadn’t opened yet; only a handful of locals were setting up canopies and preparing for the day. As often happens, a casual conversation led to something more meaningful. We struck up a chat with a pair of Americans and soon discovered the woman was Tinka Sherman from South Pasadena, along with her son, Jack. In that delightful small-world way, our families had known each other years ago, giving us an instant connection and plenty of memories to share.
We returned to Nirvana to pick up our beach provisions, then spent our day at the beach together, eventually sharing a seafood lunch under a palapa. The water was bathtub-warm (a balmy 86 degrees) and so shallow that it invited long, lazy wades rather than proper swims. All around us, local families gathered in full force. Multiple generations enjoyed the day together - feasting on homemade ceviche, playing music, and settling in beneath sun umbrellas. It’s a scene we’ve come to admire deeply: simple, joyful, and centered on time together.
Back at Nirvana, we succumbed to the heat and activity with an afternoon nap, followed by one last leisurely spin around the anchorage in the dinghy. As the sun dipped lower, John began preparing for our early morning departure, while I put together dinner, closing
Saturday, April 11, 2026 - Passage: Bahia de Los Muertos to Pichilingue/ Bahía Falsa
Shortly after 8 a.m., we quietly motored out of Bahía de Los Muertos, leaving behind John’s glasses but taking with us a cherished collection of memories from our brief stay in this magical place. Heading towards Jacques Cousteau Island, with tropical skies and calm seas, we dropped a line in the water, remembering that this was the location where Dylan caught his epic dorado. Once again, the fish were elusive, but the sea mammals made up for it. Far in the distance, an enormous humpback whale entertained himself and nearby observers by breaching repeatedly, creating a dramatic wake. Soon after, a pod of playful dolphins followed our bow.
In the distance, we saw three panga boats circling what appeared to be large dolphins or pilot whales. We were not close enough to identify them until, suddenly, the pod was about 20 feet from Nirvana’s portside. Recognizing what they were, John and I both exclaimed, “ORCAS”! Excited but cautious, we attempted to video and watched the pod chase behind our boat. Recently in the news, there have been reports of juvenile orcas disabling the rudders of sailboats off the coast of Portugal. We prayed that these orcas had not learned this dangerous behavior. Fortunately, they just seemed curious, not destructive. Another curiosity was that the tourist pangas allowed swimmers to enter the water while the orcas were nearby. Knowing they are “killer whales”, I would have opted out of that portion of the tour!
Passing Isla Espiritu Santi, boat traffic increased significantly. Since it was Saturday, there were numerous private and tour vessels out enjoying the scenic bays and wildlife. Passing Balandras Bay, another playful whale leaped out, providing immense entertainment to its audience.
Arriving at Pichilingue (Bahia Falsa) we encountered turquoise water and three other boats. Quickly, we dropped the anchor off a white sandy beach. Soon Aurora arrived and anchored behind us. This little safe haven was tucked in mangroves, somewhere between the cruise ship and ferry docks and the highway that connects La Paz to every small beach town. Immediately, we felt at home and at peace (La Paz).
Prior to a scheduled sundowner on Aurora, we zipped around the anchorage and ship area for a bit of inquisitive exploration. The docking area was immense as were the ships that waited for departure.
We enjoyed our tour of Aurora, as well as our time with the crew of Aurora. The glowing sunset, highlighting dark shadows of cacti, was spectacular, reminding us how much we treasure La Paz and our cruising life.
Friday, April 10, 2026 - Bahía de Los Muertos
Determined to recover John’s missing prescription glasses, we began the day with snorkel gear in hand, heading straight to the boat launch area for a second underwater search mission. The water was crystal clear - ideal conditions, we thought - but despite our best efforts, the glasses remained elusive. On the bright side, the hunt turned into an impromptu snorkeling tour, with plenty of exotic fish to distract us from our failed recovery operation.
From there, we motored over to a favorite dive spot we had explored with Dylan back in December. Dropping anchor near the reef, we slipped into the warm, turquoise water and resumed our roles as amateur marine biologists. I happily identified spotted puffers, needlefish, and a variety of other reef dwellers, until, quite suddenly, my peaceful survey was interrupted by a sharp sting on my lip… followed quickly by my cheek… and then my chin.
John took a look but could only see what appeared to be my strands of hair. Meanwhile, the burning sensation intensified, making it clear that this was no ordinary encounter. I snorkeled a bit longer (perhaps out of stubbornness) but eventually conceded that I had likely brushed up against the same culprit that got John—a Portuguese Man-of-War tentacle.
Thankfully, we knew the drill. A rinse in salt water did the trick, and within about 30 minutes, the pain subsided with no lasting damage - just another memorable “souvenir” from the sea.
After rinsing off, we took the dinghy ashore near the resorts at Bahía de los Sueños and made our way to the Centro de Trenes Restaurant. The soft sand made beaching the dinghy difficult, so John anchored just offshore and waded in. As always, we were warmly welcomed by the familiar staff, a hallmark of this special place.
Lunch was delicious, and the jamaica (hibiscus) margarita was a standout. We noticed that the second-story model train display had been partially remodeled since our last visit. The owner, now elderly, is no longer able to maintain the elaborate setup, a bittersweet reminder of how even the most whimsical creations evolve over time.
In the early evening, we invited the crew from Aurora over for a sundowner. As we swapped stories, we discovered that Will had also fallen victim to our stinging nemesis, bringing our unofficial tally to a solid 50% of the group! Misery may love company, but in this case, it also made for good laughs.
It was a wonderful evening - one of those easy, laughter-filled gatherings that perfectly captures the spirit of cruising life, where shared adventures quickly turn strangers into friends.
Thursday, April 9, 2026 - Passage: Mazatlán to Bahía de Los Muertos
Soon the promise of daylight broke through as the dark horizon gave way to a luminous glow. John took over the watch at 5:00 a.m. while I returned to the berth for a few more hours of shut-eye. When I awoke at 7:15, the welcoming white sands of Bahía de los Muertos were visible in the distance, and our booby family had grown to five members.
Cruising into the anchorage, we joined four other boats and quickly dropped anchor. We celebrated our first 24-hour crossing - managed by just the two of us aboard Nirvana - with a well-earned breakfast. Afterward, we checked in with family back home, then took the dinghy out to explore a bit. We also visited a neighboring boat, Victoria, which we recognized from Cherry Cove last summer, and enjoyed catching up with her owners, Chip and Kaye.
After a nap and lunch, we headed to the beach by paddleboard. The shoreline here is a bit deceptive. It looks sandy from a distance, but beneath the surface are patches of rock and coral hidden by the sand, making landings trickier than expected. After finding a safe spot, we went ashore and walked the beach, passing a large encampment of locals who were clearly prepared for fun. About ten vehicles were parked nearby, and under a huge canopy were picnic tables, a stage, loudspeakers, and even disco lights. It was all very impressive.
We continued to the far end of the beach and enjoyed a pleasant swim in front of the only hotel and resort in the area. But as John stepped out of the water, he suddenly groaned in pain. I looked down and saw two jellyfish near his feet, one of their long tails wrapped around his ankles. After extracting the creature, he rubbed sand on the sting and then went back into the water, hoping it might relieve the burning. Fortunately, within about ten minutes the pain subsided, which was especially lucky, since he had been stung by a small Portuguese man o’ war. We soon noticed many more scattered along the shoreline and floating in the shallows, useful cautionary knowledge for any future swims.
Later in the afternoon, our friends aboard Aurora sailed in and anchored beside us. After another nice swim, we all dinghied ashore for dinner at the restaurant 1535. The name commemorates Hernán Cortés’s 1535 landing in Baja California Sur. As before, the service was a bit spotty, but the servers were friendly, the food was tasty, and the view was spectacular - especially at sunset. The restaurant is also home to two exotic cats who behave as though they own the place, wandering from table to table in search of scraps. Rufus, the cat who chose me as his target, was particularly bold, planting his front paws on the table and pawing at my brochetas. Fortunately, he was adorable, so I tolerated his rude behavior.
Heading back after dinner, four of us piled into our dinghy, which was helpful since it takes a fair amount of manpower to haul it on and off the beach. We boarded without incident, but just as John was lifting the wheels, his glasses slipped off and disappeared into the water. What followed was a frantic search-and-retrieval mission, with headlamps blazing and both Tim and me diving in to hunt. Despite our valiant efforts, we came up empty-handed and returned to the boats soggy and a little defeated. Thankfully, they were not John’s primary glasses. Still, in the morning we plan to return to the scene of the crime for one more attempt.
Wednesday, April 8, 2026 – Mazatlán Departure
After carefully reviewing wind models and weather apps, John wisely chose today for our 24-hour crossing from Mazatlán to Bahía de Los Muertos—and his timing could not have been better. By 8:30 am, we were safely navigating out of Mazatlán’s sometimes unpredictable harbor, greeted by light winds, calm seas, and brilliant blue skies streaked with delicate mares’ tails.
After two wonderful weeks in Mazatlán, both we and Nirvana were filled with great memories, but there’s always something invigorating about returning to the open sea.
Along the way, we were treated to classic Sea of Cortez wildlife sightings: several large sea turtles, a playful pod of dolphins, and, of course, the ever-present brown-footed boobies. On our last crossing, a flock of them hitched a ride overnight, and true to form, we soon welcomed a visitor again—then another by nightfall. Sailors consider them a sign of good luck, so we were more than happy to have them aboard.
We departed in loose company with Aurora, Sabbatical, and Stargazer, but before long, we found ourselves alone on a wide, open sea with very little marine traffic. In the early morning hours, a pair of ferries—running both north and south between Mazatlán and La Paz—passed by, along with a couple of distant cargo ships. Otherwise, it was just us, the birds, the glow of the midnight moon, and a sky overflowing with stars—quiet, steady companions through the night.
We rotated night watch in three-hour shifts, though sleep proved elusive. The heat and humidity, intensified by our sealed hatches and portholes, made for a long and restless night.
Tuesday, April 7, 2026
Today was another low-key day as we prepared for our departure. The boat cleaners left Nirvana spic and span, John officially checked us out of the marina, and we spent time doing meal prep for our overnight passage at sea.
Our social calendar was light but enjoyable, an hour of relaxation by the pool in the afternoon, followed by an El Cid Marina potluck with fellow cruisers. We were grateful to Ange from Destiny for organizing such a fun gathering. It was especially nice to meet the crew from Aurora, John, Inga, Tim, and Will, who will be heading toward Los Muertos and La Paz around the same time we will. It always feels good to put faces to boats you’ll likely cross paths with again down the line.
Monday, April 6, 2026
Preparing for our departure on Wednesday, today was a workday. Computer tasks, a provisioning run to La Soriana, tidying up Nirvana—nothing glamorous, just the necessary rhythms of cruising life. It was largely uneventful… until it wasn’t.
At one point, I made a horrible discovery—the center stone from my wedding ring was missing.
I retraced my steps, searched every surface, every corner of the boat - nothing. I came up empty-handed… literally. It was one of those sinking moments that’s hard to shake, and I found myself feeling pretty despondent.
Sensing I needed a change of scenery, John gently nudged me out of my funk and back into the world. We ordered an Uber and headed to the Zona Histórica de Mazatlán for a return visit to El Presidio. Thankfully, the Semana Santa crowds had finally cleared, and what had recently been a chaotic trek turned into a quick, easy 15-minute drive.
Dinner, as always, was lovely, and a leisurely stroll through Plaza Machado began to lift my spirits. At one point, we even joked about replacing my ring with something from one of the street vendors - an idea that felt both ridiculous and oddly comforting.
A couple was performing nearby, so we settled into a café to listen. As the music drifted through the plaza, a balloon artist made his rounds, crafting colorful creations for delighted children. John waved him over and asked for something special - a mermaid balloon for me. When he handed it over, I couldn’t help but smile. It was perfect, resembling the tuba-playing mermaid statue in the plaza, a whimsical nod to Mazatlán’s spirit.
It was a gentle reminder that even difficult days can soften, especially when you’re surrounded by the right person and just the right amount of magic.
Sunday, April 5, 2026 - HAPPY EASTER!
Easter morning looked very different from our usual celebration. Before departing Santa Barbara, I had “hidden” Easter baskets in my closet for Morgan and Dylan. Typically, we would all enjoy a festive brunch together, but this year the holiday unfolded in separate places. Morgan joined the Thurmans in South Pasadena, visiting DD at her rehabilitation facility before gathering for brunch with the family at Mike and Michelle’s. Meanwhile, Dylan went home to SB for the weekend and celebrated with Colleen’s family.
From our research, it seemed that Easter brunch is not really a big tradition here in Mazatlán, so we opted instead for a beachside lunch at Diego’s.
It was a beautiful day, and the beach was alive with families gathered both at the restaurant and along the sand. There was no shortage of colorful entertainment as parasailers launched and landed overhead and traditional bandas sinaloenses filled the air with music. Mazatlán is considered the birthplace of this lively style, whose roots reflect a blend of Spanish military bands, German and Eastern European influences, and local Mexican traditions. Brass-heavy and driven by a strong drumbeat, the music is meant to be played outdoors and played loudly. Some tourists may feel it interrupts the peaceful beach atmosphere, but the bottom line is that bandas are an enduring and beloved Mazatlán tradition.
There was so much to take in as we sat at our table, enjoying our drinks, lunch, and the vibrant scene all around us. Afterward, we strolled back to the resort as hundreds of people continued pouring into town and onto the beaches. Naturally, all that activity wore us out, so we returned to Nirvana for a nap.
Just before sunset, our new acquaintances, Ron and Annie Hood of Steadfast, from Redondo Beach, joined us for a sundowner. They have cruised extensively, both here in Mexico and throughout the Caribbean, so there were plenty of stories to share. As it turned out, Ron even knew one of my sorority sisters from Oxy. A small world on the water!
Saturday, April 4, 2026
With my back finally feeling better, we set our sights on visiting El Faro de Mazatlán - the world-famous working lighthouse perched high on Crestón Island. Upon arrival, we were greeted by a sea of cars, swarming tourists, and a fair amount of confusion, as the area also serves as a hub for charter tours. Eventually, we were funneled into a line for group admission, since the number of visitors allowed up the hill is carefully monitored.
The ascent begins as a winding paved road, reminiscent of switchbacks, before giving way to a staircase of roughly 360 steps. Every 60 steps, your progress is painted directly onto the stairs. I’m still undecided whether this is motivational…or mildly discouraging! What surprised us most was the crowd: primarily Mexican families, many accompanied by both elders and tiny children, all making the climb together. Despite the heat, the mood was upbeat, almost like a marathon, with those descending offering encouraging smiles and silent “you’ve got this” support.
By the time we reached the top of the 515-foot hill, we were hot, sweaty, and definitely ready for water - but the reward was immediate. The panoramic views were spectacular: the harbor, the city, and the vast Pacific stretching in every direction. Being a Saturday, the line for the Glass Bridge was long, but we decided to stick it out. After removing our shoes, we cautiously stepped out onto the glass extension, taking in the dizzying views above, below, and beyond. Los Dos Hermanos, the tiny islands in the distance, were enchanting. Nearby, zipliners launched themselves into the air, soaring across the water in a mix of thrill and bravery.
From there, we made our way to Plaza Machado and settled in for a well-earned lunch at El Cielo, a charming, garden-like café draped in vines and tropical greenery. The jamaica juice with grapefruit was especially refreshing, and the meal hit the spot perfectly. We also rewarded ourselves with ice cream from a cute little pink stand. We savored this tasty treat in front of Teatro Ángela Peralta, while listening to an accomplished pianist rehearsing behind closed doors.
After an afternoon nap, we headed out for a late dinner at Yoko, a sushi spot near El Cid Marina. Sushi in Mexico can be…an adventure, and this experience was no exception. Our first clue? About 95% of the rolls featured cream cheese. While we have nothing against cream cheese, it’s not exactly traditional sushi fare! We managed to find two rolls without it and added some nigiri to the order, including marlin, which turned out to be surprisingly delicious.
The meal itself was excellent, but the atmosphere added an unexpected twist. Scattered around the restaurant were a few burly, “bodyguard-type” individuals wearing headsets, quietly observing the room. Curious, we wondered who, or what, they were there for. As we finished dinner, one of them approached our table, cleared the dishes, and then presented the check. Um…okay! Just another reminder that la vida es diferente aquí en México.
Friday, April 3, 2026
Still moving gingerly from my back injury, we kept things close to home (boat) today. Not exactly our preferred pace, especially with so many incredible sights to explore and limited time here in Mazatlán, but sometimes health sets the itinerary whether you like it or not.
John went to the gym for a workout, then we took the water taxi over to the El Cid Beach Club for a dose of relaxation, lunch, and a very brief (and cautious) swim. We greeted Lorenzo, our “hat man”, and settled in under a palapa for a delicious seafood lunch. Afterwards, we relocated to lounge chairs perched along the cliffs, where the views stretched endlessly across the ocean. It was picturesque, with tour boats cruising in and out of the harbor below while the nearby helicopter operation added a steady hum of activity overhead.
Back at Nirvana, we assumed our now-favorite cockpit seats just in time for the evening’s entertainment, the post-sunset tour boat parade. Like clockwork, the boats streamed back into the harbor: engines roaring, music pumping, and passengers singing (or enthusiastically shouting) at full volume – running lights optional. With the holiday crowds, there were more boats than usual, turning the scene into a lively, floating fiesta - free entertainment for those of us happily watching from the sidelines.
For dinner, we opted for a nearby Pancho’s Restaurant - a smaller, quieter offshoot of the beachside spot we visited last week with Mark and Dylan. It was a welcome change from the bustle of the Malecón, offering a more intimate setting without sacrificing ambiance. As before, the space was beautifully appointed, and the food and service were spot on.
Even though life handed us a few lemons with this back injury, we did what any seasoned cruisers would do - added salt and tequila, sat back, and enjoyed the margarita. Slower pace or not, we’re still grateful for every moment of the journey.
Thursday, April 2, 2026 - Mazatlan
Another visit with Dr. Backman was on the agenda this morning, and I’m so thankful we found him—my back is finally beginning to feel stronger. After the appointment, John and I set out for a long walk along the Malecón, stretching our legs for at least an hour. The heat was intense, but the ocean breeze offered just enough relief, and the lively sights and sounds along the waterfront kept us happily distracted.
As fatigue began to set in, we flagged down a pulmonía and zipped our way to the Centro Histórico for lunch at Totem, a spot both Mark and ChatGPT had recommended. It did not disappoint. The food was heavenly, and the shaded patio made for a wonderfully relaxed dining experience.
From our table, I caught sight of two striking yellow towers rising above the nearby buildings. Curious, we made our way over after lunch to visit the Catedral Basílica de la Inmaculada Concepción, built between 1856 and 1899. The cathedral is a stunning blend of Baroque, Gothic, and neoclassical styles, and stepping inside, even briefly, revealed intricate details and a peaceful grandeur that left a lasting impression.
We continued our afternoon with a bit of shopping and another stroll through Plaza Machado, soaking in the charm of the historic district.
By the end of our six-hour outing, we were thoroughly spent and ready to return to Nirvana. Unfortunately, Semana Santa was in full swing, and it seemed the entire city had the same idea. What is normally a quick 15-minute ride turned into a 40-minute crawl along the Malecón - but even that felt like part of the experience in this vibrant, bustling place.
Returning to the peaceful calm of El Cid Marina was a welcome change of pace. John spent the next few hours tackling the unpleasant task of scrubbing harbor sludge from the bottom of the dinghy - the inevitable price we paid for leaving it in the water for six straight days.
With no desire to venture back into the Semana Santa crowds, I prepared dinner. We ended the day exactly as we needed, quietly enjoying a relaxing evening onboard Nirvana.
Wednesday, April 1, 2026
Since it was April Fool’s Day, I decided it was time to stop fooling around with my strained back. We did a little research and found a local chiropractor, Dr. Steven Backman (yes, that’s really his name), and quickly booked an appointment. His approach wasn’t quite what I was used to, but I must admit, it made a noticeable difference. Encouraged by the improvement, I even scheduled a follow-up visit.
Feeling much better, we made a quick run (or hobble) to Fresh Market to pick up a few necessities before heading back to the marina for some much-needed beach time. As luck would have it, we arrived just as a wave of 300 cruise ship guests were loading onto buses - perfect timing for a little peace and quiet.
That evening, we made dinner plans with Mark, as it was his final night in Mazatlán. We returned to our very first dining spot upon arrival, Diego’s, one of his favorites. It turned into a celebratory sunset dinner, with the staff - especially our server, Nabor - making sure our guest of honor felt well taken care of. As the evening stretched later than expected, we found ourselves reflecting on how we met, the memorable time we’d shared, and what adventures might lie ahead—grateful for a friendship that had grown along the way.
