Brownie #2 got out of surgery and spent the next couple of days hanging out with us. She still had “the scent” on her, so our job became keeping the boys of the neighborhood off of her while she healed up.

We spent a night with Xochitl, and her parents who have also become our good friends. We’re all going to miss having this little girl around. She’s the perfect age, right in between Ouest and Lowe, and she was all they needed in order to run off and play together all day long.

Mambo and Tango are the campground cats, so while I’m sure they’ll wonder what the heck happened to us for a split second, I don’t think they’ll have any problem switching loyalties. Ouest didn’t know Mambo had come in until we showed her the pictures.

Sayulita surf.

Another tiny beach fire to roast marshmallows over. The kids had no patience, so they roasted their first few in nothing but smoke while the fire tried to get going.

A gringo walked over to us and watched the kids for a minute before saying, “How fun. I didn’t know it was okay to have fires on the beach.”

It never even occurred to us that it might not be okay, or we should seek permission. Welcome to Mexico, lady.

That little blonde girl’s name is Westerly. It was such a surprise the first time I heard her mom run around the soccer field yelling, “Westerly, pass the ball! West, over here.”

Brownie would chew through the rope in fifteen seconds if we all left her. As long as someone was there she would just lay there happily. For a couple nights we had to sleep with the door wide open so she could see us. The cats appreciated not getting locked out.

The owner of the campground about blew a head gasket when he discovered what we were up to. The plan with Brownie #2 is just to let her loose to go back to her life. He is sure that she will forever be coming back to the campground to “SHIT EVERYWHERE!”

Another couple in the campground had offered to keep an eye on her for a couple more days, but with that outburst I decided to ask a friend who was staying in another campground instead. He’s got a huge bulldog himself, and graciously offered to help out.

After one last round of goodbyes we were on our way. We drove three minutes before reaching our first stop of the day—the tire shop. We had a flat on the inside rear tire. The same tire which had gone flat on the opposite side of the bus a while back. That time it turned out not to be the tire at all, but the nozzle extension that is needed to run through the outside tire so you can actually access the air nozzle with both tires on.

That was what I figured the problem would be on this side as well. The nozzles are 50 years old like the rest of the bus. The guy pulled the tires off, poured some soapy water on the nozzle, and confirmed it. He didn’t have a new one, so we just pulled that one off, and put the filled-up tires back on. Ten bucks and we were rolling again.

I ran over to OXXO while I waited for these guys to finish up with their truck. I came back a couple of minutes later to find them posing for pictures on my front bumper.

Our campground for the night, in Chacala—as beachfront as it gets.

I always hated this bay when we were on the boat. Rolly, and exposed. We have none of those problems with it now.

It’s a tiny town with just a few beach restaurants and tiendas. It’s just small and remote enough for the gringos there to feel like they’ve discovered a gem. Of course, the bay is ringed by massive gringo fortresses which kind of kill the illusion.