Oysters a Los Hombres

Caleta Partida was once a volcano. A long, long time ago, its eastern and western edges eroded into the sea, leaving a surreally beautiful place.  Red volcanic cliffs rise from the  sea, the beach is a perfect crescent of soft white sand and the bay is home to several giant green sea turtles -but it's the silence, that makes it unforgettable. It is heavy and ancient, as if the fantastic thermal chaos that created this place still vibrates in the atoms of the rocks-a volcanic footprint found in more than just interesting  geological formations. 
The place has vibes, man.
The kids go fishing with dad and I jump on the paddle board. 
I am totally alone, the few boats in the anchorage fall far behind as I wind past the cliffs, pocked with sandstone caves.
I look up, rocks tower above my head; dark obsidian slashes the red surface of  the sandstone. It is as alien as something forged on a distant star. My board, a sleek yellow spaceship as I traverse this inhospitable place. 
Something rattles in a cave above my head. 
I cant see it, maybe it's a snake or a June beetle clacking its wings. A fury of black and angry bug erupts from the cave and I am dive-bombed by an enormous, evil-looking, "terminator-bug". It's some species of wasp we've encountered here before but cant identify (it's absolutely huge and prehistoric as far as I'm concerned)- as big as my hand, it buzzes past me as I hurry past  it's lair. Thankfully, it  finds me less than interesting and ignores me after the first pass.
Below me, the water is so clear, I forget its there until the stroke of my paddle sends ripples through it. I spot a giant electric ray.  I know what it is, because Kai has quizzed us on every species ( down to protozoa) that  we are likely to encounter in these waters. I used to wish i could get him as interested in spelling as he is in biology but i have given over to the fact that there is a sort of savant at work in each of us -we only have to discover the genius in ourselves and cut the fool some slack. 
These days, I try and free my mind of all ideas. 
I try and make it empty sky and clear water.
As Jim Morrison said;
 "Out here, we is stoned immaculate" and we are...only we is also completely sober. 
Jon and I left all libations temporarily aside for this leg of the trip. It's not so much a "cleanse" as a matter of getting deeper into being out of bounds. 
So, like the Buddhists (who have so many good ideas about everything) we have adopted a "noble strategy" for a month of outer and inner exploration.
I'll let you know if we discover anything.
I spot several vultures huddled together on the beach. 
They look like irritated, Jesuit priests , huddled in their black robes. No heathen tribe has come for their sermon today-unless you count me.
I paddle slowly past and they pass judgment on me, glaring over hunched shoulders,  bald heads burnt a blistering red under the godless sun.
I  bring the kids back to this beach later. I know (in reality) the vultures were conferring over some carcass. I couldn't see what it was from the water but thought it might make for an interesting science lesson. Carrion is fascinating to us these days, because, well, death is always nifty when viewed at something else's expense and it affords us an amateur naturalist's peek into what's actually living in the forbidding hills surrounding this cove. Jon had been for a hike with Kai that morning and the boys had come back with tales of a giant desert hare, almost three feet in height. We were eager to see what else might live( and die) in this wild place. As we approached the spot, Kai let loose his best berserker and charged at the pack of grumpy vultures with a stick and a roar. They squawked and hooted and fluttered away from the foul mess they were reluctantly guarding and we discovered a four foot long, black, moray eel. We deduced morays are disgusting to consume because not even the vultures( generally not known for their finicky eating habits) would touch him, save for plucking out his eyes. 
This morsel was left for the crabs-who apparently have no taste buds.

We dingy back to the boat and Jon returns from free-diving with five oysters as big as salad plates. They are so big and shaped not at all like our oysters back home- I only know what they are because I had seen these behemoths once before on this trip, back Los Frailles. 
I had decided I would take off on a run down the long and beautiful beach.
"How far are you going?" asked Kai-who worries enough for the whole world.
"Just to that big hotel at the end of the beach". I reassured him. "I'll be fine."
I bounded away-like the idiot tourist I so often am.
Jon and the kids snorkeled off around the point.
I had the beach to myself, it was totally deserted (so I thought) and there were no other boats at anchor in the bay. About a mile and a half into the run, I noticed three very large men, of questionable employment, sitting on the beach ahead of me. They were pounding on something with a machete. 
As I approached, I began to wonder, if these guys were, perhaps, not guests of the hotel.
I didn't think they were accountants either, judging by the devil horns one of them had artfully etched onto his forehead.
It was at this point, that I happened to notice that the fancy 'hotel'  I had seen from the boat, was actually just an abandoned building covered in graffiiti. 
The whole place was totally deserted except for a pimped out truck parked in front of the crumbling ruins- I assumed it belonged to my fellow beach-goers.
All three dudes were standing up now, watching me.
I was regretting my descion to run in my bikini ( perfectly fine idea back when I thought this was a hotel) and starting to feel like the punch line in a travel advisory.
I considered my options.
Turning and fleeing seemed awfully desperate. 
I glanced at the water and figured I could out swim these guys if things got unpleasant- they were each about twenty pounds overweight and all had cigarrettes dangling from their mouths.
That's when the fourth guy emerged from the water. 
This dude was white and very fit and wearing a mask and fins. He was also hands down the scariest-looking of the bunch.
The one with the devil horns and the machete shouted something to me in Spanish.
I wondered if I could outrun the guy with the fins.
"Quieres comer?" Horns said and stepped in front of me.I decided I better dig up my inner badass- right now.
Ok. I'm forty-four and I have a huge tattoo too, Mr. Horns on you face...
" Que?" I said, slowing down.
 I sliced him to ribbons with my eyes, sending a message;
Do not fuck with me, Hombre. Yo soy es pelligroso pelliroja...I run in my bikini 'cause I'm loco.
Horns smiled. I saw a mouth full of gold teeth. 
Then the white dude came out of the water with a bag of the biggest oysters I had ever seen.
'You like oyster?" said Horns.
I do like oysters, actually- but there was no way in hell I was gonna sit around eating raw oysters the size of avacados with bunch of dudes recently released form prison.
"no gracias.,," I said backing up.
"but I wish you good luck today" I said in bad Spanish.
They looked at one another like I was retarded.
" for finding a pearl. " I communicated with more bad Spanish and hand signals.
They liked this.  They laughed and we all hi-fived and had a one-love fist pound and then they let me go. And go I did, like Ussain Bolt in the two-hundred yard dash- back down the beach.


So, that is how I  came to know what these giant lumpy things are in my galley sink.
But these things are just too damn big for non-narco gang-bangers, like me to eat raw,  so i  invented a little recipe for the famished crew of Pura Vida.


OYSTERS A LOS HOMBRES:

pop fresh, whole oyster on the bbq- ya don;t even have to scub 'em if they're fresh.
When they open they are done.
(When ours opened, the oyster inside was the size of a quarter pounder and it sat on its own perfect  salad plate of mother of pearl).
While the oysters cook;
Saute some onions and garlic in butter... 
When the oysters are done, pry them form the shell and chop them up into pieces. You can save the shell for serving, if you like.
Added the chopped oysters to the pan of fragrant garlic and onions,.
Hit the whole business with a splash of Mirin(Japanese cooking wine) and a tablespoon of Chipoltle sauce, salt and pepper.
Simmer, turn down and add a few tablespoons of heavy cream and stir.
Remove from heat.
Add fresh sqeezed lime juice and fresh chopped cilantro.
Serve in the lovely shell with toast points.


They were the most delicious oysters ever. 


I only wish I could share this recipe with my friends back in Los Frailles.

Partida

Dead trigger fish

stingray carcass

heaven

Crew stows the ropes

Ornothologist Kai

Spotting a blow off of Everisto

identifying the whale

Mom on the yellow spaceship

The boys prepare to land the big one.