In early June, hurricane Blanca chased us to the mainland and we were unable to visit Punta Chivato. This time, on our crossing to the Baja side, a norther was coming. Chivato is not very protected, so we skipped it again to hide inside the safety of Concepcion. Nov. 20th, on our way out of Bahia Concepcion, we decided the weather was finally good enough to try this anchorage, even though it was 10 miles in the wrong direction… north.
Why would we bother going out of our way? Yup, as usual, it’s my fault. I’ve been bugging the crap out of Brian to get us here. Finally, even though he soooo did not want to back-track, he relented. Resistance is futile.
See, if you get excited about shells, this beach is renowned. Hearing the scoop from other cruisers cemented Chivato as tops on my must-do list. “Impressive”… “Best shelling beach around” …“You MUST go there”. They were not mistaken – “impressive” is dead-on.
Stepping onto the lonely beach was like stepping into a shrine of sorts. A ½ mile stretch of sun-bleached, picture-perfect shells…layers deep. It’s a Sheller’s Nirvana. Where are the angels? Shouldn’t they be belting out a heavenly chorus about now? We tread cautiously, almost reverently. Water rhythmically lapped the shoreline, each receding wave making a soft, meditative “hissss” as the liquid sifted through sand and shells.
Thousands Upon Thousands of Perfect Shells
The sheer quantity is absolutely astonishing… mounds and mounds of shells. It’s quite remarkable that the forces of nature routinely transport countless shells up onto this specific little stretch of beach at exactly 27degrees parallel. But the physical size of these suckers is even more impressive…they are huge in comparison to all the other shells we have so far encountered. Or maybe they just seem bigger because the vast majority are miraculously intact! Whole, perfect, like nature’s retail shell shop. Cones, turrets, clams, snails…thousands upon thousands. Maybe even hundreds of thousands!
I could have spent hours, happily crouched with arm stretched out in shell-schlepping-yoga-pose, squinting in the bright sun. I was non-stop grins the entire time! Was this worth the Cranky Crossing? For me, yes. For Brian, OK we just won’t bring that up. Hey, see if you can distract him, maybe I can stay another hour…