rom repairing nets to cleaning and selling the catch, fishing remains a man's profession in Sayulita. The craft passes down from fathers to sons, and women are rarely involved in any aspect of the business. It has been that way, locals believe, since the village was founded. Home to no more than six hundred people, Sayulita sits beside a small bay on Mexico's Pacific west coast (north of the tourist resort of Puerto Vallarta) and remains remarkably unspoiled.
        Six mornings a week, a dozen or more small fishing boats push off from Sayulita's beach. Depending on the time of year and which way the fish are running, the bay and nearby Pacific are soon busy with men tossing and dragging nets in the water. Their catch is primarily dorado (mahi-mahi), huachinango (red snapper), other pescados (small fish), and shrimp (in the wintertime). Noisy swarms of gulls, frigate birds, and pelicans form around the boats when they return to unload and clean their catch.
        As picturesque as these scenes might be, fishing is always risky. Supply and demand are inconsistent, and natural disasters can be devastating. Hurricane Kenna destroyed Martin Padilla's new boat in October 2002, for example. He had struggled for years to buy the craft. The loss forced him to abandon the way of life he had followed for twenty-six years. Padilla now waits tables in Captain Pablo's restaurant on Sayulita's beach. His workdays are longer--he comments that he barely sees his family--but the pay is reliable and more plentiful. He also grudgingly acknowledges that the work is safer.
        Down the street from the restaurant, F‚elix and Herasmo Cadena Rodriguez live in a cement house with their respective families. Fishing is all the brothers have ever known. Their father was a fisherman and his father before him. The brothers' wives are not from fishing families--neither woman is able to swim--and would prefer a life with more security, but they admit that their husbands do not know how to do anything else.
        The men claim not to tire of eating fish every day, nor are they bored with their work. They explain that each species and season means fishing in different ways. For example, to catch huachinango their boat must be stationary in the water, but for dorado the boat is running. Still, they don't want to see their sons become fishermen. "The work will be harder for them," they agree. Ten years ago, the Rodriguez brothers would set 120 hooks to catch around 440 pounds of fish. Now, because of stock depletions, they have to set 600 hooks to get the same amount. The fish must be caught even farther from shore, which takes more time. Felix says emphatically that he will encourage his son to study more.
        Sayulita's fishermen sell all their catch either locally or to companies that ice and transport it to Guadalajara, four hours east. Today though, while the amount of fish they take from the sea may be diminishing, the number of tourists is increasing. Fishermen must share the bay's waters with surfers and whale watchers, and some have recently decided to ignore the dorado in favor of the dollar-stuffed gringo. Boat trips to see the migrating humpback whales, waterbirds, and other wildlife are popular activities and generate lucrative business for boat owners.
        In fact, life is no longer inexpensive in Sayulita. The boost in tourism has brought an enormous rise in prices for housing and most commodities. This has proven to be an obstacle for many Sayulitans trying to marry and raise families in their traditional manner. The rising cost of living is inhibiting. Modernization and technology creep into life everywhere, and although many authentic aspects of local culture and traditional lifestyle still prevail, no one knows how much longer this will be true.
        Most face the future with the casual stoicism typical of the fisherman confronting what cannot be predicted or controlled. "God will take care of him," shrugged Jose Francisco Beserra Garc¡a, when I asked if he would encourage his young son to fish. "While there may be fewer fish than before, there will always be fish in the sea. And tourism brings business up. Some days I think all Americans want to be in Mexico and all Mexicans want to be in America," he added, laughing.
        Garcia and his family know about the dangers of the sea and the importance of faith. Three years ago Jose's wife, Sofia, discovered that, after making breakfast, her comal (tortilla pan) was indelibly marked with what appeared to be an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, the saint to whom many local Mexicans pray. Much of the village crowded into Sofia's kitchen in astonishment and prayed before the family's picture of the Virgin and the new likeness on the comal.
        A few weeks later, Jose's uncle and cousin left in a small boat to fish overnight some miles out to sea. When they did not return, Jose's relatives put aside squabbles and differences that had plagued them for years. They gathered at the Garcias' house where the remarkable likeness had brought so much attention. Miraculously, after bobbing on the ocean for eight days and somehow eluding the searching helicopters and boats, Jose's uncle and cousin were found. Near death, they were rescued and brought home to recuperate. The second miracle, says Sofia, is the recovery of the family. After sharing such an experience, the fishermen of Sayulita confidently face the uncertainties that may lie in their future.