A Stop in Mulege
He drove us around the small village, proud and knowledgeable of the neighborhoods and people living in town. He showed us the big homes along the river, “where gringos live and get washed out every few years in the hurricanes, then just rebuild again”.
We spent the first night in town sipping beer and swilling down rum, sitting out on the deck talking to his neighbor Pepe in improving, but still broken Spanish. Big laughs, loud voices and plenty of stories.
Back at his house, the rum started early and went into the night, laughs, passion and drunken emotion a plenty.
We spent several more days there, more drinks and exploring around. Bridget and I took another wander in search of the bat cave, successful this time, going inside to see generations of bat droppings caked on the floor. Bill told us he’d occasionally get some for his garden, it worked like a charm.
Another day we’d walked through town to the beach, Bridget dipped into the water while I gave fishing a shot with my little hand line, catching nothing but some sun and the occasional chunk of seaweed. I snapped a picture of Bridget in the water, her back to me and arms extended with half her torso out of the water and she looked out on the amazing view.
All told we stayed in Mulege just shy of a week, but that was perhaps a day or two past our welcome, I’d started getting the feeling Bill was looking forward to enjoying his solo privacy. Welcome worn or not, we’d finally hit the road again, Bill dropped us off up on the highway south of town, we were on to the next thing.