One of those portentous gates that announces your arrival on the outskirts of a grand estate appeared around a curve in the road. [...] On closer
inspection, we discovered that the chain could be unraveled and gates swung open to admit our vehicle.
The skeletons of three luxury homes sat at the bottom of die hill near a cobble beach. One was whitewashed and nearly complete with its orange-die
roof securely in place, but another was still only half built, roughly shaped with bare concrete blocks. The third showed only the bare outlines of
its foundation. Across die draw on the neighboring limestone promontory loomed the hulk of a steel-frame building. Its pretensions as a hotel were
proclaimed by an enormous palapa shading a large patio overlooking the sea. Two dogs greeted us, barking excitedly as we drove up to the first
dwelling. Soon after, there appeared a thin old fellow, a caretaker, who called off the dogs. His name was Hector. His job was to make sure that
construction materials, such as the stockpile of concrete blocks, were not pilfered. On learning that we were harmless geologists, he granted
permission to explore the surrounding limestone cliffs. Hector was not very forthcoming, however, in satisfying our curiosity about what sort of
outfit was invested in developing the land around El Mangle. We never did come up with answers, even after asking discreetly around town back in
Loreto. |
