Mid-December was the time in Mazatlan when the locals told you that the cold weather was not “seasonal.” The longer the cold persisted, however, the more incredulous that claim became. From the corridor just outside of my hotel room, the little cove secluded by the silhouette of the nearby isles shone in the peculiar maroon sunset. The ospreys hovered over in the fading blue patch of the sky. The clouds made the ocean unappealing. The beach vendors appeared disoriented. Their favorite customers, the tourists from the United States and Canada, submerged themselves in Jacuzzis and margaritas. The better part of valor was to explore the land >>>FULL TEXT 
