The next morning we woke up in the chill of the desert and after a breakfast feast (identical to dinner) we trekked over to the ocean side of the dunes again.  New coyote tracks passed close to camp and dew drenched the desert plants, clarifying how they're able to bloom under an incessantly sunny/starry sky.  We strolled up the beach for a while in search of whale carcasses (or anything interesting) but there was little to be found except more shells and coyote tracks.  We were both amazed by how quickly exhaustion set in as the air warmed up and we soon slogged our way back to camp to break down the tent.  After hauling all our gear back to the edge of the mangroves we changed into swimming attire and stepped into the channel, slowly rising with the incoming tide.  This time we only had to walk about 50 yards before it was deep enough to swim.  We snorkeled around the edge of the mangroves in three or four feet of water, occasionally scaring schools of tiny fish but rarely seeing anything else.  Although it was creepy, I forced myself to stick my head between the slimy roots of the mangroves until I was in the shade and could see clearly into the gloom.  The streaks of sun shining between the roots and the colonies of green and orange cup sponges growing on them was really quite beautiful.  Once I saw two cod-like orange fish between the roots, but little else.  It was lovely and cool and we were thoroughly refreshed afterwards and sat on the sand drinking Pacificos while we waited for the panga to arrive.  Sharp at noon Esteban pulled up, pleased that we’d already broken camp.  After showering back at the hotel, my mother and I enjoyed the rest of the afternoon reading and writing in the little patio downstairs.