For much of the year, Sayulita is a dry place. There is water in the aquifer to keep the sprinklers sprinkling, the hoses hosing, and the showers showering, but we don’t see a lot of naturally flowing water around here between say, November and July or even August.
There might be the odd rain storm in November, a late offering of the rainy season just passed, or an early bomb of a storm in late June or July, precursor of the deluge to come; and perhaps the main river that runs through the middle of town still offers a slow flow of fresh water possibly in December or January, even into the spring–enough to keep the grass green along the riverbank, where the wandering horses feed; but for the most part the sky stays blue and the earth stays dry as it is expected to do, in the dry, high season. Dust blows up behind cars, swirls around in the wind, and covers everything.
The dry season can be a long, throat-parching stretch, and most of our visitors find themselves here during the dry season. During these arid times, it is hard to imagine what happens when the rain arrives.
The rain has arrived. We are currently swimming through that rain. Slogging through, I should say, since life on the Sayulita ground as at times more about mud than water, in the rainy season. Our frequent, short, and dramatic storms, however, along with the mud and water in the streets often bring wonderfully lavish sunsets, and the jungle in summer is as lush and green as it gets.
Though late, and relatively light on bolt-flinging, earth-rattling storms this year, the rainy season is currently in full swing, and the rivers are running.
What rivers, you might ask? There is seemingly only one, flowing under the bridge and spilling into the sea, defining the barrier between the surfing right and the surfing left, cutting a cleft between downtown and the north side.
On the other hand, if you should happen to be here in September, when the sky is falling and the clouds are billowing like dragons at play over the bay, you will discover there are several rivers here, although the main waterway that flows under the bridge is really the only one that I would qualify as a river.
But these other streams, call them rivers or call them rills or call them creeks, they are full of flowing water, and they flow right through town. You’ll find one emerging onto the beach just south of Don Pedro’s restaurant, and several more flowing down various north side hillsides and streets, and eventually out onto the beach and into the sea. Some are “seasonal,” which means that they only flow when the rain comes down, while others trickle along year round. At the far north end of down, just before you reach Casa Kuesta, the house on the rocks at the end of the beach, you’ll find a full-fledged river, one that flows deep into the dry season, sometimes never actually going dry. This is the one flowing through the grasses in the accompanying photos.
Some of these seasonal streams are more like seasonal torrents. When hard rains hit in the valleys behind Sayulita, all that water has to go somewhere, and that somewhere, of course, is the sea. For the most part, these streams flow over the streets and down various passageways, natural or man-made, and end up crossing the beach and entering the ocean.
But not all of them. Several friends have complimented me on the “water feature” in my front yard, which is, actually, the street called Calle Chiripas, aka Rio Chiripas, long ago identified as a “seasonal” stream, which like all such seasonal streams doesn’t always know how to behave when confronted with a lot of concrete and cobblestones. This is what happens every year to Calle Chiripas—a small torrent forms, a large section of the road washes away, and the dogs have a place to lay down and cool off.
Seasonal or not, these creeks are part of the scene here in the rainy season, and for those of us who live near them, they make a sweet background sound. They wake up when the rain comes, and bring another layer of life to town. They transform the faded forest of the late dry season into the lush green jungles you see here.
