On May 26, we left Puerto Escondido in the afternoon and rode the falling tide south toward Bahia Agua Verde. Along the way we encountered a group of at least 20 dolphins, spread out in a line perpendicular to our course, heading toward us. They appeared to be on the hunt, allowing the tidal flow to sweep prey toward them. Having read that tuna sometimes hunt in this way with dolphins, I quickly tossed a Rapala lure in the water and within a minute had hooked this big skipjack, which provided tuna steaks for several lunches and dinners.
The next day at Aqua Verde, we kayaked into the beach and walked past some rather ominous looking buzzards to visit the small fishing village. It has one restaurant, two tiendas, and about 20 small houses--a remote and sleepy place. We bought a few supplies and chatted with the locals for a bit, before returning to the boat and continuing south to Bahia Los Gatos, where we anchored for the night.
Los Gatos is a beautiful anchorage. There appeared to be no one there, but the next morning we met Manuel, a local fisherman who is well known among cruisers as a source for lobster. Manuel was friendly and fun. He spoke very slowly and clearly, so that we could understand his Spanish, and asked many question about our boat and our travels. Eventually he asked us if we would like him to get some lobster for us. We told him that we needed to leave within one hour because we had a long trip to our next anchorage and we wanted to arrive before dark. It was then 11 am and we told him repeatedly that we would need to leave in one hour. He said there was no problem, and took off in his panga. 
When Manuel had not returned after an hour and a half, we reluctantly weighed anchor and headed South. We wanted to make it to Bahia Amortajada before dark, so we needed to go. We were about an hour South of Los Gatos, making about five knots on a broad reach, when we looked behind us and saw a panga chasing us. It was Manuel, with the lobsters. We stopped until he caught up, feeling bit guilty for having left, but Manuel was smiling as he sold us his catch. Late that afternoon we made it to Bahia Amortajada, a bay on Isla San Jose near a large lagoon and estuary. This bay is notorious for biting flies, but we thought we could rely on our good screens to keep them out. This was a serious mistake.
Just after sunset, as we were enjoying a lobster dinner inside the boat, Claudia and I both started feeling itchy. We could see no flies at first, but eventually began to detect tiny black spots, that looked like ground black pepper, on our skin. When we slapped at the specks, we noticed blood. We were under attack from the notorious Mexican jejenes, also known as "no seeums"--tiny blood sucking insects. They were so small that they came right through our screens. We put on long sleeved shirts and pants to try to keep them off, but it was no good. They crawled right under the clothing and more seemed to be arriving all the time. We began madly swatting them against the walls and ceiling of the cabin, where they left tiny smears of blood that they had sucked from us, but made no progress--more seemed to be entering the boat every minute. Finally, in desperation, we decided we had to leave. As quickly as possible, we started the engine, raised the anchor, and headed out of the bay, hoping to get away from them. But this required going outside, which at first made matters worse. Our screens seemed to have admitted only the tiniest jejenes. When we went outside we were attacked by their big brothers and sisters. The insect flew into our eyes, ears, nostrils and mouths, on the attack, biting everywhere. Eventually, after we were a mile or two off shore, the breeze cleared them away, but we were covered in bites. The red, itchy welts lasted for days.
Putting to sea after dark, in those reef strewn waters was a little frightening. As noted earlier, our chartplotter has not been accurate in this area and there are often differences between the charts and guidebooks over the position of reefs and shoals. Luckily, the moon rose, giving us a little light and helping us see the position of some of the more dangerous obstacles. I followed a weaving course, trying to steer only into areas where the charts and guidebooks agreed that I would find deep water, and keeping an eye on the depth gauge at all times. Eventually we worked out was through the reefs and down to Isla San Francisco, where we anchored inside the famous hook. As we were dropping anchor, we were hit by a powerful corumuel wind, of about 20 knots, which blew all night, sweeping away the last of the jejenes.
The next day we continued south--anchoring once again at Caleta Partida. Then it was on to La Paz, where we checked into Marina Palmira to wait for YachtPath.
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