So last winter, I left behind my busy wife and stormy weather for a flight from San Francisco to Ixtapa, Mexico. Ixtapa is 150 miles northwest of Acapulco along the Pacific coastline and about 30 miles south of Troncones. The area sports winter temperatures in the mid 80s and higher.
Five of us, including an old friend, arrived after dark. We piled out of our rental cars dragging beachwear and golf clubs into our vacation home.
While I admired the pool and open-air living room, dining room and kitchen, others claimed the bedrooms. That left the hammock-slung, third-floor, roof-top deck open for me, my air mattress and mosquito net.
But who needs a room when you have a view of the ocean and a blanket of stars? And it came outfitted with friendly bats and hungry geckos to gobble up any pesky bugs. With background music of crashing surf, rustling palms and an occasional primordial call coming from a nearby lagoon, dreams of being lost on a deserted island swam around my head.
I awoke at first light to a half-hearted rooster s crow. While the others slept, I took an hour-long stroll along the beach as the sun rose above the semi-tropical, forest-covered mountains that form the backdrop for the village.
Troncones is a rough and tumble town where you can get a beachside massage, a taco or tequila, or rent a horse all without stepping off the sand. The small fishing hamlet seems to come to life early, before the heat of the day slows everyone down.
As I ambled along the beach, thatched-roof caf s began to spring to life along with the san crabs, who were running for their lives in front of hungry shore birds. Out at sea, pelicans dove for breakfast as fishermen threw nets in the surf for theirs.
Although the beach went on for miles, the scents from breakfast fires drifting out to sea reminded me that my breakfast was waiting back home.
As a sizzling sun reflected off our swimming pool, we ate breakfast and considered our options. Besides lazing around, we could swim, surf, bodysurf, boogie board, fish, ride horses, get a massage or check out the abundant wildlife. We could dine in one of the many beachfront palapa restaurants nearby or drive into Ixtapa or Zihuatanejo.
But all that thinking, along with the heat and humidity, slows a guy down.So we decided to stick close to home and just take a get-aquainted joyride around the neighborhood.
All the roads in Troncones, except the main road leading into town off Mexico highway 200, are dirt. So we bounced along the beachside path past scores of little B&BS, guest inns, vacation homes and seaside cafes. The laid-back and friendly hamlet seemed to be home to as many chickens, pigs and burros as people.
After lunch at home, my friend and I drove into Ixtapa to check out one of its two golf courses. Without my wife and his girlfriend dragging us through the shopping warrens of Ixtapa or nearby Zihuatanejo, we could plan on a round of golf every other day during our stay.
The story of Ixtapa and Zihuatanejo is a tale of two cities — side by side but worlds apart. Although they share a common geography, they have distinctly different personalities.
Both are coastal towns, small and easy to get to know. But while Zihuatanejo is the quintessential Mexican beach town offering lower-priced rooms, open-air cafes, narrow streets and a funky charm, its neighbor Ixtapa boasts a modern infrastructure with fancy restaurants and luxury high-rise hotels.
Ixtapa was planned as a mega-resort and built from the ground up in the 1970s. And it's not finished yet. Condos and time-shares crawl up the palm-covered hillside right out of the sea.
Along with golf, plenty of activities keep tourists busy: tennis, horseback riding, bicycling, swimming, surfing, snorkeling, scuba diving, sailing, kayaking, fishing, shopping. Just the thought of all that activity made us hungry, so we stopped in one of the abundant cafes for some spicy enchiladas and cool drinks.
In Ixtapa, nearly everything lies along one 3-mile-long boulevard, Paseo Ixtapa. The street is just a hotel lobby off the beach. And at each end of the paseo are golf courses.
On this day we stopped by Club de Marina Ixtapa, built on undulating terrain with saltwater canals running through it. Water comes into play on 14 of the course's 18 holes, and the fairways sprout more moguls than most ski runs.
We decided we'd play this course the next afternoon. Bad decision.
There's a reason the courses are empty in the afternoons, even with discounted prices. In the sweltering heat, even frequent trips to the beverage cart could barely keep our temperatures below our scores.
The next morning, we drove into Zihuatanejo early to see the fishermen selling their predawn catches along the downtown beachfront. The Playa Municipal's sheltered waters are the launching spot for the fishermen's small wooden boats.
Ringed by forested hills and laced by rocky shoals, Zihuatanejo Bay offers a beautiful backdrop for the town's beaches. We sauntered onto a pier near one end of the beach and watched tourists as they hopped off launches from their cruise ship anchored in the bay. They scattered in different directions, some toting shopping bags, others cameras and fishing hats, and others golf clubs.
We took a short drive to Playa Ropa, a mile-long crescent of beach. From our oceanside table we dined on fish tacos and watched parasailers drift over the shoreline.
A waitress took a baby alligator out for a stroll. Behind the cafe, the baby alligator's parents and friends lounged in a lagoon. Fortunately, a fence kept the adult alligators from putting us on their luncheon menu.
The cafe also kept a large tub of baby sea turtles, who appeared ready for their release into the ocean later that night.
That evening we had dinner at home, as we often did. My sister and her husband, who have been vacationing in Troncones for years, invited an old friend for dinner. Former Alaska fisherman Dewey McMillin claims to be the first foreigner to settle in Troncones, and recalls that it was a sleepy little village when he arrived in 1983.
McMillin, now a real estate salesman, said that back then the town had two cars — his and the town's. Today, most Troncones families have concrete houses and cars, he said.
Most of the locals live inland, having sold their beachfront property to Americans. Some villagers have started businesses and many have jobs in the handful of hotels and restaurants built here in recent years.
A stroll through the streets of town offers an open-air glimpse into the townspeople's lives. Because of the heat, kitchens, dining tables, play areas, wash tubs and hammocks fill dusty backyards.
Standing at a time-worn intersection, I could look down one street and watch children give rides to each other in a rusty wheelbarrow. A turn in the opposite direction caught more giggling children scampering home barefoot, carrying tortillas they bought from a neighborhood tortilla factory.
Up the cross street, two chickens and a rooster zipped across the street in front of two grunting pigs.
And down the street a grandmother in a worn dress limped slowly up the rise in the road using a machete as a cane.
On our last full day in Mexico, after some morning bodysurfing, my friend and I drove back to Ixtapa for a round of golf at Club de Golf Palma Real, a Robert Trent Jones Jr. layout built in the early 1970s.
The course is carved through dense jungle palms with views of the Pacific. Water hazards were rumored to include alligators. A story for gullible gringos, we figured. We also ignored the sign that read: "Caution Alligators." Surely a tourist photo op.
Neither could we believe the story that McMillin had told after a long happy hour — about a groundskeeper named Lefty who lost a tug-of-war with a reptile.
So we weren't paying attention on the fifth hole, a 348-yard shot hard by a dark lagoon, when we pursued my friend's ball into the long grass at the edge of the water. When he jumped out of our cart to grab a club, neither of us saw the 6-foot alligator sunning itself 10 feet away.
Who knew my graying friend could leap back into the cart like a frog on steroids? Although our hearts were thumping, the motionless alligator gave us a look that said, "Just how stupid are you guys?"
Not stupid enough to retrieve that ball or miss our last sunset. We made our getaway, with our limbs intact, and returned to our lodgings, where the biggest water hazards were a warm pool and a cold beer.
And where that alligator grew longer by the sip.
If you go
-Getting there. Several airlines fly to Ixtapa, among them Aeromexico, Alaska, American, Mexicana and United.
-Lodging. We stayed at Casadeoro in Troncones, one of many comfortable homes for rent in the area. Visit http://www.casadeoromex.com. In the United States, call (707) 765-0557.
-Dining. In Troncones, the popular El Burro Borracho (The Drunken Burro) is a beachfront palapa restaurant and inn on the southern end of the beach. The hangout serves tacos, enchiladas, fresh seafood and even hamburgers. Sunday nights about 7:30, high-school kids perform traditional Mexican dances. The show is free, although a hat is passed around for tips that go to the school.
-Golf. Campo de Golf Palma Real: (011-52) 755-31062. Club de Golf Marina Ixtapa: (011-52) 755-31410.
-Off the shelf. Several guidebooks have sections covering the area. Try Moon's "Pacific Mexico," Lonely Planet's "Mexico Pacific Coast" or "Mexico's Beach Resorts for Dummies."
-Information. Handy tourist Web sites include http://www.troncones.com.mex, http://www.zihuatanejo.net and http://www.ixtapa-zihuatanejo.org.