I went with my guy of the time and rode buses and stayed in cheap hotels, late October into November. It seemed hot to me, especially in a room with tiny windows and a gasping old window-mounted cooler.
Spent a week or so in La Paz, hitching out to Tecolote Beach, swimming, hanging out under a palapa with a tall drink or beer, eating coctél del mariscos with heaps of chile and lime. There were harbourfront cafés with live jazz where we could dance on the sand.
Then we took a long, hot bus ride out to Todos Santos, which is rather artsy-fartsy. There’s a block of craft shops with prices in dollars rather than pesos (as I found out when I carried a couple bargains to the counter). Because of the risk of hurricanes and storm surge, the town is set 2-3 k inland, with some sandy two-track roads to the shore.
We’d hit the grocery and the morning tortilla bakery (there was also an evening one). A half-hour walk down from the lagoon was a beach where the fisherman launched and landed their pangas, 20-foot skiffs with big outboards. They’d catch a wave and gun the motor, shooting up onto the beach where a kid would dash out with a hook on a steel cable to catch the boat before it washed back out. There was a surplus army truck with the tyres dug in and a winch, to haul the boats up so they could be unloaded. Quite a show.
The sons of the fishermen had fires going and were roasting fish on sticks. I bought one at a time, wrapped a fresh tortilla around it with sliced avocado and hot salsa, and wolfed it down with a beer. Depending on the size of the fish, I could eat two or three.
Then we sat and luxuriated and watched the brown pelicans patrol the surf.
We were there for Dia de los Muertos, but that’s another story.