Life in troncones,
majahua & saladita

I didn’t know much about Isabel when we sat down together—other than she owns La Mexicana, a popular restaurant on the beach road in Troncones; that she helped start Surfers for Strays and that she’s part of the team heading up the Halloween parade that opens up Troncones’ Festival de la Catrina. That was about it. And that her restaurant once had a pet turkey roaming the dining room. Maybe seeing her volunteer to help with the parade should’ve told me something about her commitment to Troncones. Maybe having her set up our interview around her son’s school and his activities should’ve told me something about her priorities. But what struck me when we met was her honesty. She’s been through things no one likes to talk about. Meet Isabel Velasco.

There’s no written history of Troncones. I didn’t set out to put one together but every time I talk to someone about their life here, I learn something new. Here, you’ll meet Ángel Dosal, who lives next to the church. He’s been here since 1968. All my previous interviews have been with residents who arrived in 1976—part of a community relocation project prompted by Ruben Figueroa, the governor of Guerrero—60-some people being moved to Troncones from Infiernillo, near La Salitrera. After this interview, Ángel and I went on a little tour to Troncones’ original freshwater wells, located not too far from today’s Main Street. They’re dry most of the year now, occasionally coming to life in the rainy season. In going up there, Ángel recalled fishing in Manzanillo Bay and only taking one fish a day—that it was all you needed. No electricity. No refrigeration. No taking more than you could eat that day. That’s a history worth remembering. Life before “the invasion”.

Troncones is a bit like an island sometimes. It’s a place unto itself, attracting all sorts of interesting people. A year or so ago, someone suggested I follow lizgodefroy on Instagram, that she was a young person making her way in Troncones, that she posted about real estate, nature, mezcal-and-mole tastings—things La Onda readers should know about. It was good advice, even though it’s a little weird to get to know people that way. You find out about their habits, their social circles, but you never say “hello”. We were introduced once at a party, but it wasn’t until the community met to plan the Troncones Catrina festival that we ever had a chance to talk. I hadn’t eaten at Casa Saint George, so I invited her to lunch there. It turns out it’s one of her favorite places. Meet lizgodefroy—Elizabeth Godefroy.

A guy hula-hooping on a wave in Saladita? It came up on Instagram last month. I immediately thought, “That’s crazy!”. Then I started to look a little more. The rest of his @surfhula feed had a lot more hooping, showing a level of skill, dexterity and creativity I never imagined possible. And then I heard some Saladita surfers describing how “magical” and “special” the hooper was. Okay, maybe there’s something to this. Then I found out he had a workshop at Hacienda Plaza—his last one for the summer. Okay, I’m in. It was a fun class, even for me, someone who doesn’t hula or hoop. Why? Meet “Hula”—Adan Carano Silva.