OFF-ROADING IN TEACAPAN: PART II
By Earl Durham
Felix and I shared our iced beer with Carlos, soda for the girls, as Carlos demonstrated some of the finer points involved in castnet fishing for shrimp in this peaceful setting of Estacada. On the far side of the estero, a brilliantly white formation of Snowgeese moved across the water in a precise choreographic sweep that gave the appearance of a broad fluffy lawnmower in action. We had gathered some small shrimp and decided to push on to Teacapan where the estero meets a white frothed bar to the open ocean, and the shrimp are generally much larger. Traveling west again, we were struck by the incredible lushness of the country, healthy green fields of vegetation everywhere, even underneath the coconut groves, and Brahma cattle that barely bent their necks to graze because a prodigious growth of broad leaf green grasses grew higher than their briskets. We soon got the chance to admire these handsome heat-tolerant Brahman cattle at close quarters, blocked in, as three mounted Vaqueros slowly drove a leisurely herd of Brahmas down the center of the highway. The hump-shouldered, long eared cattle were fat and healthy, with wet noses, large lustrous eyes, shining variegated buckskin tone hides, and there was a remarkably large number of sprightly calves in the procession. With only the possible exception for show stock — prime, curried and pampered County Fair heavyweights — these beautiful Brahmas are real prizewinners. A little farther, and we saw two men harvesting coconuts, using a long, limber aluminum pole with a shepherd’s crook at the end. Michelangelo served up some refreshing cocos he opened with a few deft strokes of his machete. He and his partner welcomed the cold beer, and we were equally satisfied with the naturally sweet, smoothly solvent crispness of coconut water on a hot day. Michelangelo told us his father owned most of the extensive coconut groves we could see, bordering both sides of the highway, but coconuts are merely a sideline. The real business is Brahma beef, most of which is sold to Culiacán and Mazatlán buyers. He also solved the mystery of the great sand mounds we’d noted in the fields. Michelangelo explained they were hand dug wells, and yes, the entire area has abundant freshwater, hence the overall appearance of an enormous greenbelt. The only paved road in Teacapan is main street through the center of the pueblo, a line of one story tiendas and homes. We turned north along a narrow dirt track between closely packed haciendas to the shore of a large estero where the town’s fishing pangas tie up to a rocky breakwater. Potential buyers gathered under a small rectangular palapa with their ice chests, plastic containers, bags and scales, while others sat on walls, next to their pickups, drinking beer while waiting for the pangas. About six miles to the northeast, we could see the white breakers of the bar from where each panga came racing to the landing from the open sea, at singular intervals. The nominal price for mixed, medium to large shrimp is 35 pesos per kilo, but nevertheless, it’s still a competitive marketplace. My brother-in-law, Felix, was finally able to arrange a particularly creative purchase, a hefty seven kilo bag of uniformly large shrimp for 200 pesos, plus 12 cans of ice cold cerveza. We drove south about 5 miles to the opposite side of pueblo Teacapan over a pot-holed dirt road to another estero. More than a dozen pangas were beached on the hard packed gray mud bank of the shallow estero. The clear water revealed an abundance of active Blue Crabs (Jaiba) feeding on fish trimmings. Two men were busily filleting 16 to 20 inch Robalo on a table beneath a palapa, while another stuffed plastic bags with fillets before placing the bags on ice. Long rectangular boxes in an adjacent shack held another 1200 to 1400 pounds of fresh Robalo, last night´s catch awaiting the fillet knife and transport to Escuinapa. Enrique told us Robalo are especially good for cerviche, which consists of raw fish cured with lime juice, chopped onions, sweet green peppers, carrots, cilantro, and is eaten with tortilla chips. Price of fillets at the source is 20 pesos a kilo. Leaving Teacapan, we headed east again to Palmas, a tiny pueblo and the only land entrance to Mezcal, a wilderness fishing camp next to the grand estero. Exiting through Palmas, there’s a 12 km. double track hardscrabble path that winds through fields of high grasses with grazing cattle, past small ponds, heavy chaparral, and over two concrete bridges before you reach remote Mezcal. Two brilliantly green iguanas scampered ahead of the truck shortly after we took the path. The variety of birdlife increased enormously, with nighthawks, falcons, ducks, doves, and colorful birds of every description, in addition to the ever present egrets, virtually everywhere. Mezcal is actually just a small clearing with two long rectangular palapas on concrete slabs, and a couple of storage shacks. Another volleyball court sized slab is completely covered by shrimp drying in the sun. It is here that the strong current, westward flowing deep blue river forms a “Y.” At the base of the “Y” is a 100 yard long by 6 foot high “tapo” that reaches across the river. The tapo is a dam, or fence of bamboo construction, used to capture shrimp. There are six evenly spaced conical traps along the tapo, lighted by battery powered lanterns that attract the shrimp during the night. On the right side of the “Y,” at waters edge, is a long, ramada style palapa with kitchen, hammocks strung pole to pole, large insulated boxes for storing iced fish, a net mending area, and posts from which the fishermen tie their pangas. Our friend Marino was out fishing, so I climbed into a hammock and promptly fell asleep in this quiet, tranquil bayou setting. Egrets, and our first sighting of a pair of Great Blue Hurons, posted along the tapo and the shore below the towering wall of mangroves, the roiling dark river just several feet away. Marino woke me to show me a fine Pargo he had split for charcoal broiling. We ate dried shrimp, drank beer and Cuba Libres, appetizers for the sumptuous Pargo that was seasoned with coarse salt, tomatoes, onions, and green peppers. I mentioned to Marino that we’d been told the grand estero was home to numerous “small” caiman (alligators). Marino, who has been fishing for 40 years, considered this for a minute, and then agreed the statement was correct, but only if caiman half the length of his 23 foot panga could be considered “small.” The best time to see them, he said, was at night when the caiman’s eyes glow yellow in the darkness. We decided to leave that adventure to another day. earl@pacificpearl.com

 

 

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