Our Little Piece of Heaven
That is how I've begun to think about our living quarters here in El Sargento. We are directly upstairs from our land lady, two blocks from the grocery store, one mile from friends' house, and we are literally a stone's throw from the beach. Our front entrance, a sliding glass door, opens directly onto a large terrace overlooking the Sea of Cortez. When entering the apartment we step into the small seating area defined only by coffee table, couch and rocker. Behind the rocker sits a queen sized bed, positioned with a view of the sea. Opposite the bed is a nice sized bathroom and large bookshelf. The kitchen/dining area (for two) juts out onto the terrace and is outfitted with very basic, but quality cook gear and ceramic dishes.
The terrace boasts small shaded seating area right outside the main door. Sun screens and the indoor cooking area provide necessary protection from the afternoon sun and winds. Ten steps closer to the sea two chaise lounge chairs sit side by side with small table and umbrella stand in between. Comfortable folding chairs stored near the umbrella at the top of the staircase are available for our use.
Next to the chaise lounges is a big open space. It was here that the sister-in-law of some friends of ours led us all on an impromptu (and brief) yoga session. Thanks to her, I can now do several Salutations to the Sun every morning on this private terrace as the sun crests the horizon over the sea.
The lounge chairs offer a perfect spot for morning coffee and yogurt. By 9AM, however, the sun's rays are so direct and warm, we find it necessary to donn our swimwear, walk down the stairs, through the gate and down two more short fights of stairs to the beach.
Oh, but our picture of this particular piece of heaven is not yet complete. Easy access to the sea and lovely accommodations are not everything it has to offer. Last year our landlady showed us her storage closet located halfway down the stairs to the beach. From it she extracted a couple of beach chairs, inviting us to help ourselves as often as we liked. "Oh! And here is the paddle. Take it with you. I keep my kayak at the bottom of the stairs. Go ahead and use that too." This year I happened to mention that I'd been wanting try stand-up paddleboarding. Our landlady cheerfully replied that now she has two stand-up paddleboards and I should use the bigger one if I'd never done it before. She gave me a quick little lesson there by the storage shed and recommended which paddle to use. She suggested I go out early in the morning before the wind came up and that I pick a day when the water is nice and glassy so I could learn how to balance myself on the board.
I'm not foolish enough to ignore the advice of an 85 year-old woman, so on the next glassy morning I bravely entered the water with broad paddleboard under my arm (sort of). The board was so big and so heavy I wondered if our landlady could get it to the water without assistance. I had to stop once to get a better grip and rest my arms in the 20 foot walk to the water's edge. Following the instructions I'd been given, I paddled from a kneeling position until I got out to where I could see a sandy bottom beneath me. So far, so good, but now comes the challenge: I must carefully move to a standing position, balancing myself on the three foot wide board. Yes, I was nervous enough my knees had a bit of a shake to them. I had to remind myself that a tumble into the ocean would probably feel pretty good and I should just forget about my pride and relax my knees. It worked! I was standing on the board! (Never mind that my toes strained trying to hold on to the flat board even though I lacked suction cupped feet). Soon I was paddling and peering down into the clear and glassy sea. What fun!
After two days of wobbling adjustments, I was beginning to feel fairly confident. At that point, our generous landlady suggested I try her "tippy" board. I questioned why I would want to do that and she explained how much easier it is to paddle and maneuver........once you get used to the "tippy-ness" of it. New adventures await.
But until then, we will just continue on enjoying our little piece of heaven. We originally planned only one week here, but we are enjoying it so much, we paid for another week here in heaven.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
Thursday, March 19, 2015
Reflection on first few Cabo Pulmo Days
Oh my. I thought I had published this post before I even wrote about Mermaid Beach, but then I found if lurking, unpublished in the drafts folder! Sequentially, this belongs in between La Paz and Mermaid Beach.......hmmmm....maybe the computer gods are just saying to skip this one.....I don't know!
Finally, a chance for a more sequential post on Cabo Pulmo! My apologies for the confusion I may have caused. When we first got here, we were without Internet and had been without for three days, ever since we left La Paz. I hadn't completed my blog on La Paz and so hadn't posted it yet and then it dawned on me that those of you not in my immediate family may have been worried. At that point we had found a fellow in Cabo Pulmo offering to let us use his laptop to access the Internet at a rather expensive price. We used our precious minutes to inform family of our safety and then I did the quick (and now out of sequence) post on our safe arrival. Since then Bruce, aka "hero of the neighborhood" roamed the few streets of Cabo Pulmo waving the iPad around until he picked up a "hot spot." He found a spot in the street, two houses down; but being the relentless optimist he is, he refused to give up until he found a more comfortable zone. He found one on our rooftop viewing deck, devoid of any shade at all (a precious commodity for most hours of the day--unless at the beach). He gave away our credit card number....yes, I felt rather weak at the knees at first) for one week of access or some quantity of some bits or bytes of data, whichever happened first. A little Internet research assures me that we shouldn't use up our bit allowance in the week we are here, even with my rather long-winded blog entries. (So my knees feel stronger now). We have found it best to type our messages (and blog posts) offline in the comfort of our casita or on our shaded front porch. Every evening after dinner, but before dark and every morning before 10AM we climb to the rooftop, wave the iPad over our heads and hope to hear the "swoosh" of composed messages going out. It is a little awkward, but it IS access from our casita! Bruce is a hero!
We've been in Cabo Pulmo six days already, and it seems like three. Our first two days here were unusually cloudy and cool. But that was a blessing, as that is why the Calgary couple who picked us up 3minutes after we stuck out our thumbs, decided to drive from their Cabo San Lucas winter home to explore the town of Cabo Pulmo. They took us right to our casita manager here. The manager's niece then gave us (and our five gallons of drinking water) a ride to our door. Couldn't have been easier!
The second cloudy day gave us opportunity to explore the trail system of Cabo Pulmo. We had heard last year that the local residents had developed and maintained a trail system into the mountains. I went home regretting that we hadn't had a chance to explore those last year. As luck would have it, the wife of the Internet guy used to be a guide on the trails, so she told us the story of why no maps are available and then gave us directions to the trailheads. We found three trailheads and chose to follow the most inland one. We had heard repeatedly that there were more rattlesnakes showing themselves this year, after all the rains, than ever before. We heard that on the Pacific side as well as here. Being a brazen kid, spending my youngest years in Arizona, I didn't let the idea of snakes hold us back ....even if we did just have Chacos on our feet.
We had no idea where this particular trail led, so it was fun to follow its meanderings, skirting large arroyos, and even, at one point passing by some incongruous tennis courts. We hiked by amazing growths of cactus, around knoll tops and up and down gullies, not really going anywhere in particular, just wherever that trail happened to lead. Since I had offered to go first (be snake bait) I knew I had to be super conscientious about watching the ground in front of me. Everytime I stubbed my sandal toe on a rock lodged in the trail, I was reminded to watch more closely. Shortly after just such an instance, I saw a familar pattern lying across the trail in front of me. My dangling arms instinctively flew out my sides, fingers spread wide, and I heard a single word escape my lips, "Snake!" About the same time I felt Bruce bump my back, I heard, and then saw, the rattle. Grateful it was still slithering and not coiling, I stomped on Bruce's feet in an effort to distance us from the threat. He never did coil, but just stopped with his head hidden in some brush and only his tail visible. He stopped rattling and Bruce wanted to go forward and get a closer look. I'd heard the rattle and that was as much as I wanted to know about that snake. Bruce did go ahead of me for a closer look, but I had already started backing down the trail and soon Bruce was traveling in the same direction. That ended our hike for that day, and we were plenty content to spend the rest of the day exploring our options for groceries and/or for restaurants.
Since then we've had sunny days. Two of them were accompanied by a wind, one day so cool we only spent enough time in the water to discover that Bruce's snorkel had sprung a leak and that the mask and snorkel I had borrowed from Cindy and Vince fit my face much better than our own. The second windy day we found and tested a replacement snorkel for Bruce, but the wind was so busy sugaring everything with a fine layer of sand, that even the water carried a murky mix. Today was calmer and we couldn't help but notice the flocks of pelicans and little white sea birds enthusiastically fishing the waters in front of us. The sea birds flew over in larger groups. Regularly they seemed to drop right out of the sky and into the ocean before rising right back out again. The pelicans soared more predictably, flaring their wings like a skydiver approaching a formation before streamlining their bodies and ker-plunking down into the sea and bobbing back to float on the surface. But don't turn your eyes from them yet. If you watch the one that just surfaced, then after a little bit, you may see him, ever so subtly, raise his beak or maybe give it a quick shake before swallowing down some delectable briny treat. Always after he swallows it down, a quick little wag of his tail-feathers seems to imply the snack was enjoyed and appreciated right to the tip of his tail. While none of the bigger and more colorful fish cared to show themselves to us during the feeding frenzy, the little non-descript minnows were plentiful enough they simply swarmed around us. The sights above the surface, however, were every bit as intriguing as those below. Toward the end of the day I found myself removing mask and snorkel to simply enjoy bobbing in the warm aquamarine waters accompanied by the regal pelicans. Just before leaving water in time to make dinner, I found myself enjoying a spontaneous game of red light/green light with Mr. Pelican. When he bobbed with his back to me, it was "green light" and I would approach as stealthily as I could. When the currents twirled him to face me, it was "red light" and I ceased all movement. I managed to get within three feet of him when something must have told him I wasn't the normal sea creature. Maybe tomorrow I will have a chance to play again, and get even closer.
Finally, a chance for a more sequential post on Cabo Pulmo! My apologies for the confusion I may have caused. When we first got here, we were without Internet and had been without for three days, ever since we left La Paz. I hadn't completed my blog on La Paz and so hadn't posted it yet and then it dawned on me that those of you not in my immediate family may have been worried. At that point we had found a fellow in Cabo Pulmo offering to let us use his laptop to access the Internet at a rather expensive price. We used our precious minutes to inform family of our safety and then I did the quick (and now out of sequence) post on our safe arrival. Since then Bruce, aka "hero of the neighborhood" roamed the few streets of Cabo Pulmo waving the iPad around until he picked up a "hot spot." He found a spot in the street, two houses down; but being the relentless optimist he is, he refused to give up until he found a more comfortable zone. He found one on our rooftop viewing deck, devoid of any shade at all (a precious commodity for most hours of the day--unless at the beach). He gave away our credit card number....yes, I felt rather weak at the knees at first) for one week of access or some quantity of some bits or bytes of data, whichever happened first. A little Internet research assures me that we shouldn't use up our bit allowance in the week we are here, even with my rather long-winded blog entries. (So my knees feel stronger now). We have found it best to type our messages (and blog posts) offline in the comfort of our casita or on our shaded front porch. Every evening after dinner, but before dark and every morning before 10AM we climb to the rooftop, wave the iPad over our heads and hope to hear the "swoosh" of composed messages going out. It is a little awkward, but it IS access from our casita! Bruce is a hero!
We've been in Cabo Pulmo six days already, and it seems like three. Our first two days here were unusually cloudy and cool. But that was a blessing, as that is why the Calgary couple who picked us up 3minutes after we stuck out our thumbs, decided to drive from their Cabo San Lucas winter home to explore the town of Cabo Pulmo. They took us right to our casita manager here. The manager's niece then gave us (and our five gallons of drinking water) a ride to our door. Couldn't have been easier!
The second cloudy day gave us opportunity to explore the trail system of Cabo Pulmo. We had heard last year that the local residents had developed and maintained a trail system into the mountains. I went home regretting that we hadn't had a chance to explore those last year. As luck would have it, the wife of the Internet guy used to be a guide on the trails, so she told us the story of why no maps are available and then gave us directions to the trailheads. We found three trailheads and chose to follow the most inland one. We had heard repeatedly that there were more rattlesnakes showing themselves this year, after all the rains, than ever before. We heard that on the Pacific side as well as here. Being a brazen kid, spending my youngest years in Arizona, I didn't let the idea of snakes hold us back ....even if we did just have Chacos on our feet.
We had no idea where this particular trail led, so it was fun to follow its meanderings, skirting large arroyos, and even, at one point passing by some incongruous tennis courts. We hiked by amazing growths of cactus, around knoll tops and up and down gullies, not really going anywhere in particular, just wherever that trail happened to lead. Since I had offered to go first (be snake bait) I knew I had to be super conscientious about watching the ground in front of me. Everytime I stubbed my sandal toe on a rock lodged in the trail, I was reminded to watch more closely. Shortly after just such an instance, I saw a familar pattern lying across the trail in front of me. My dangling arms instinctively flew out my sides, fingers spread wide, and I heard a single word escape my lips, "Snake!" About the same time I felt Bruce bump my back, I heard, and then saw, the rattle. Grateful it was still slithering and not coiling, I stomped on Bruce's feet in an effort to distance us from the threat. He never did coil, but just stopped with his head hidden in some brush and only his tail visible. He stopped rattling and Bruce wanted to go forward and get a closer look. I'd heard the rattle and that was as much as I wanted to know about that snake. Bruce did go ahead of me for a closer look, but I had already started backing down the trail and soon Bruce was traveling in the same direction. That ended our hike for that day, and we were plenty content to spend the rest of the day exploring our options for groceries and/or for restaurants.
Since then we've had sunny days. Two of them were accompanied by a wind, one day so cool we only spent enough time in the water to discover that Bruce's snorkel had sprung a leak and that the mask and snorkel I had borrowed from Cindy and Vince fit my face much better than our own. The second windy day we found and tested a replacement snorkel for Bruce, but the wind was so busy sugaring everything with a fine layer of sand, that even the water carried a murky mix. Today was calmer and we couldn't help but notice the flocks of pelicans and little white sea birds enthusiastically fishing the waters in front of us. The sea birds flew over in larger groups. Regularly they seemed to drop right out of the sky and into the ocean before rising right back out again. The pelicans soared more predictably, flaring their wings like a skydiver approaching a formation before streamlining their bodies and ker-plunking down into the sea and bobbing back to float on the surface. But don't turn your eyes from them yet. If you watch the one that just surfaced, then after a little bit, you may see him, ever so subtly, raise his beak or maybe give it a quick shake before swallowing down some delectable briny treat. Always after he swallows it down, a quick little wag of his tail-feathers seems to imply the snack was enjoyed and appreciated right to the tip of his tail. While none of the bigger and more colorful fish cared to show themselves to us during the feeding frenzy, the little non-descript minnows were plentiful enough they simply swarmed around us. The sights above the surface, however, were every bit as intriguing as those below. Toward the end of the day I found myself removing mask and snorkel to simply enjoy bobbing in the warm aquamarine waters accompanied by the regal pelicans. Just before leaving water in time to make dinner, I found myself enjoying a spontaneous game of red light/green light with Mr. Pelican. When he bobbed with his back to me, it was "green light" and I would approach as stealthily as I could. When the currents twirled him to face me, it was "red light" and I ceased all movement. I managed to get within three feet of him when something must have told him I wasn't the normal sea creature. Maybe tomorrow I will have a chance to play again, and get even closer.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
An Afternoon with a Mermaid
A Missoula woman, walking by our Cabo Pulmo casita, recognized Bruce's KGLT t-shirt hanging out to dry as being of Montana origin. On her next walk past our place, she initiated a conversation., asking if we were from Big Sky Country. Turns out, she has been coming down here for the last twenty years, off and on. When I asked her what drew her back here, she cited the magical qualities of Cabo Pulmo. That day, in fact, she had gone whale watching with a girlfriend. Although she has been out many times to watch the whales, today's gift was one of song: she heard the rarity of a male whale singing the mating song to his chosen female. It simply knocked her speechless. She could only express her wonder at the gift of hearing it.
I had to ask her where her favorite place was in Cabo Pulmo for snorkeling. She asked if we'd been to Los Frailes. Yes, last year that is where Vince and Cindy took us camping and we did have some grand snorkeling adventures there. Well, she said, Frailes is great, but my very favorite is Mermaid Beach. She described its location and how to get there without a car, which seaside vendor could drive us there, for a price. As she described where it was, Bruce had to ask, could we walk there from here? "Oh no! I don't think you can walk there," was her reply. "It is 15 minutes' walk from Los Arbolitos; you can't drive right to the beach," she argued. Wait a minute.....the light dawned in our minds....last year we had walked to Los Arbolitos, so we determined that if we could walk to Arbolitos, surely we could walk to Mermaid Beach. We decided to try it the very next day.
Bruce had it figured as a two hour walk. We packed a lunch, snorkel gear and water, ate a hearty breakfast of eggs with fresh vegetable, potatoes diced and fried and began our trek. We splashed barefooted along the beach, then donned sandals for the sloggy walk through fist-sized ocean-tumbled pebbles. We scrambled over boulders, waded around rocky escarpments and were grateful when sinking our feet in soft sand. Multitudes of scrambling crabs entertained us on our rest/water breaks as we perched upon rocky seats. After one and a half hours of hiking, we could see the palapas of Los Arbolitos. A surprise this year was the Mexicans who had set up a semi-permanent camp there, selling water and who knows what else. We asked them about the trail to Mermaid Beach and they simply pointed the way. We trooped along a path, now departing from the sea and traversing seaside hills, skirting along cliffs and dodging thorny cactus. Within the promised 15 minutos mas we found ourselves within a small cove, without much beach. A tourist ponga (small boat) from the starting point near our casita was anchored outside the cove, near a buoy. Its passengers had all splashed into the sea and some were already snorkeling near the shore. We found a rocky spot out on the peninsula that seemed to offer a nice "launch spot" for finned novice snorkelers and we decided to act like mermaids and sun on the rocks while observing the boatload of snorkelers invading "our" cove. I felt sure that they were not appreciating the crystal clear waters as much as we would after our hot hike.
I laughed as three of the invaders soon were clamoring up the rocky shore, having abandoned life vests and snorkel gear to enjoy the perspective from up high. Two others stayed out near the boat in deeper water. The sixth snorkeled within a few feet of us, in water that couldn't have been over two feet deep, stopping frequently to enjoy some kind of underwater delight. It seemed a little strange to sit watching him from a few feet away while he remained oblivious to our presence.
So clear was the water in our little cove, that Bruce could spot fish from our rocky perch, before we had even dipped our fins into the water. As he was pointing out the fish, a woman snorkeled by, stopped and lifted her face mask. Addressing us, she asked, "Well, what do you think?". We talked for a little bit before I realized, this was the Missoula woman! We soon joined her in the water and it truly was a sight to behold. No wonder the shallow snorkeler didn't care to look around and see us there on the shore. He was captivated by sights wilder than any sea water aquarium! Despite the dribbles coming into my face mask, there was no denying the variety of fish visible in such a short range! The cool temp of the water soon had us back on shore warming in the sun, much like a pair of sea lions. Within 15 minutes of our arrival, the tour boat collected its passengers and motored off to the next stop. Our Missoula woman and her pals soon packed up and hiked back to their car, and suddenly, we had the place to ourselves. We moved to the small sandy area our friends had occupied and from there, we spotted the namesake. Yes, overlooking the fish-filled cove was a stone maiden seated on a rock. Larger than life she could have only been placed long ago by forces of nature. A fishtailed, long-haired woman sat at the sand's edge looking out over the watery paradise as we munched our cheesy burritos and felt the magic of the place. Her stone features belied no expression of emotion. When we had it all to ourselves, Mermaid Beach became even more special.
Another dip into the sea, this time with mask correctly adjusted, revealed even more varieties of fish than we'd seen last year while camping just around the point in Los Frailes. Bruce and I followed each other out around the little peninsula and then back again. Neither of us could even describe accurately to each other all the amazingly colorful and variety of fish we'd seen. Once on the shore, the warm sand welcomed our chilled bodies and we lay savoring the memories of some of the amazing things we'd seen in that clear water. I wanted to stay in this paradise and never leave.
All too soon the hands on my watch reached the agreed upon hour and we would have to begin our homeward trek. We were happy the clouds waited until time for us to go. Their soft gray color promised to shield us from the sun's harsh rays and to help keep us comfortable we as we began our reverse order of scrambling over boulders, wading around huge slippery rocks and slogging through piles of gravelly rocks. We felt a few large raindrops cooling our heads and arms. It really wasn't enough moisture to even wet our skin. It was only enough to cool our walk. As we moved along feeling the occasional spilt-splat of the odd and large raindrops an ancient verse memorized in my youth began parading through my head: "Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over."
And it's funny, but that is exactly how I felt as we walked home. Our day had been so lovely, I truly felt blessed, full of the day's wonder. I felt as if we'd been given more than two mortals could ever deserve. Cabo Pulmo is indeed magical.
I had to ask her where her favorite place was in Cabo Pulmo for snorkeling. She asked if we'd been to Los Frailes. Yes, last year that is where Vince and Cindy took us camping and we did have some grand snorkeling adventures there. Well, she said, Frailes is great, but my very favorite is Mermaid Beach. She described its location and how to get there without a car, which seaside vendor could drive us there, for a price. As she described where it was, Bruce had to ask, could we walk there from here? "Oh no! I don't think you can walk there," was her reply. "It is 15 minutes' walk from Los Arbolitos; you can't drive right to the beach," she argued. Wait a minute.....the light dawned in our minds....last year we had walked to Los Arbolitos, so we determined that if we could walk to Arbolitos, surely we could walk to Mermaid Beach. We decided to try it the very next day.
Bruce had it figured as a two hour walk. We packed a lunch, snorkel gear and water, ate a hearty breakfast of eggs with fresh vegetable, potatoes diced and fried and began our trek. We splashed barefooted along the beach, then donned sandals for the sloggy walk through fist-sized ocean-tumbled pebbles. We scrambled over boulders, waded around rocky escarpments and were grateful when sinking our feet in soft sand. Multitudes of scrambling crabs entertained us on our rest/water breaks as we perched upon rocky seats. After one and a half hours of hiking, we could see the palapas of Los Arbolitos. A surprise this year was the Mexicans who had set up a semi-permanent camp there, selling water and who knows what else. We asked them about the trail to Mermaid Beach and they simply pointed the way. We trooped along a path, now departing from the sea and traversing seaside hills, skirting along cliffs and dodging thorny cactus. Within the promised 15 minutos mas we found ourselves within a small cove, without much beach. A tourist ponga (small boat) from the starting point near our casita was anchored outside the cove, near a buoy. Its passengers had all splashed into the sea and some were already snorkeling near the shore. We found a rocky spot out on the peninsula that seemed to offer a nice "launch spot" for finned novice snorkelers and we decided to act like mermaids and sun on the rocks while observing the boatload of snorkelers invading "our" cove. I felt sure that they were not appreciating the crystal clear waters as much as we would after our hot hike.
I laughed as three of the invaders soon were clamoring up the rocky shore, having abandoned life vests and snorkel gear to enjoy the perspective from up high. Two others stayed out near the boat in deeper water. The sixth snorkeled within a few feet of us, in water that couldn't have been over two feet deep, stopping frequently to enjoy some kind of underwater delight. It seemed a little strange to sit watching him from a few feet away while he remained oblivious to our presence.
So clear was the water in our little cove, that Bruce could spot fish from our rocky perch, before we had even dipped our fins into the water. As he was pointing out the fish, a woman snorkeled by, stopped and lifted her face mask. Addressing us, she asked, "Well, what do you think?". We talked for a little bit before I realized, this was the Missoula woman! We soon joined her in the water and it truly was a sight to behold. No wonder the shallow snorkeler didn't care to look around and see us there on the shore. He was captivated by sights wilder than any sea water aquarium! Despite the dribbles coming into my face mask, there was no denying the variety of fish visible in such a short range! The cool temp of the water soon had us back on shore warming in the sun, much like a pair of sea lions. Within 15 minutes of our arrival, the tour boat collected its passengers and motored off to the next stop. Our Missoula woman and her pals soon packed up and hiked back to their car, and suddenly, we had the place to ourselves. We moved to the small sandy area our friends had occupied and from there, we spotted the namesake. Yes, overlooking the fish-filled cove was a stone maiden seated on a rock. Larger than life she could have only been placed long ago by forces of nature. A fishtailed, long-haired woman sat at the sand's edge looking out over the watery paradise as we munched our cheesy burritos and felt the magic of the place. Her stone features belied no expression of emotion. When we had it all to ourselves, Mermaid Beach became even more special.
Another dip into the sea, this time with mask correctly adjusted, revealed even more varieties of fish than we'd seen last year while camping just around the point in Los Frailes. Bruce and I followed each other out around the little peninsula and then back again. Neither of us could even describe accurately to each other all the amazingly colorful and variety of fish we'd seen. Once on the shore, the warm sand welcomed our chilled bodies and we lay savoring the memories of some of the amazing things we'd seen in that clear water. I wanted to stay in this paradise and never leave.
All too soon the hands on my watch reached the agreed upon hour and we would have to begin our homeward trek. We were happy the clouds waited until time for us to go. Their soft gray color promised to shield us from the sun's harsh rays and to help keep us comfortable we as we began our reverse order of scrambling over boulders, wading around huge slippery rocks and slogging through piles of gravelly rocks. We felt a few large raindrops cooling our heads and arms. It really wasn't enough moisture to even wet our skin. It was only enough to cool our walk. As we moved along feeling the occasional spilt-splat of the odd and large raindrops an ancient verse memorized in my youth began parading through my head: "Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over."
And it's funny, but that is exactly how I felt as we walked home. Our day had been so lovely, I truly felt blessed, full of the day's wonder. I felt as if we'd been given more than two mortals could ever deserve. Cabo Pulmo is indeed magical.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Pescadero/La Paz Transition
Our last few bittersweet days in Pescadero filled me with mixed emotions. I was sad to say good-bye to the many pleasures we found there and yet happily looking forward to new adventures.
The last day for us on the Pacific side brought huge waves, unpredictable currents and cloudy weather, and it was still a bit sad to say good-bye to the ocean I had grown accustomed to seeing every morning with coffee, every evening at sunset, most afternoons, and many dark nights.
This year I also deepened a few acquaintances with "local" surfers (the local referring to the fact that they own homes in Pescadero and live here part of the year). I also enjoyed warm greetings and friendships from a few local Mexicans such as the lady who runs Rosarita's loncheria, Fidel, the vegetable vendor, and Lupe, jack-of-all-trades and man with the most generous and enthusiastically warm smile. Hosts Bobby and Wendy treated us almost like family, their children regularly visiting with us, Bobby stopping in several times a day to chat and trading favors back and forth.
But in Pescadero it is becoming too easy to not use my Spanish, to observe Mexican life from a distance and to socialize with gringos. Bus travel demands intelligible Spanish and offers opportunity to casually visit with true locals. The journey to La Paz offered just such potential. The hour wait for the bus brought opportunity to observe Mexican life in Todos Santos away from the "gringo strip" housing Hotel California, rows of souvenir shops, and the only English-speaking dentist in Todos Santos (who fixed my teeth last year). Here on the side street between bus station and city park, men hailed one another from opposite sides of the street, started conversations, which , if prolonged, sparked the need for one to cross to the other. Women walked in twosomes chaperoning small children to school, walking to work or shop. The music of Spanish spoken by native speakers was in the air. Time passed quickly and soon the bus whisked us up. The on-board movie screens showed Robin Williams as Mrs. Doubtfire dubbed in Spanish, but most people were engaged in quiet conversations with their seat mates. The older man seated across from us, head capped in gently worn straw cowboy hat, worried the folder of papers in hands that had worked outdoors most of their weathered life. I imagined him on important legal business in his state capital. The fact that he had not a single bag with him made me think he would make the journey back to his place the same day. He was on the bus when we boarded, two hours from La Paz. I wondered how far he had already traveled this morning.
Endless scenery of desert flatlands racing to the sea from the the mountains of the Sierra Laguna soon gave way to the outskirts of La Paz. Gradually we entered the bustle of the big city until the two lane highway divided into four lanes of city traffic. The bus wound its way through quieter back streets pulling into the narrow back gate of the bus station located opposite the malecon of La Paz. Soon we were walking along the picturesque boardwalk near the turquoise blue waters of the Sea of Cortez. Couples rested on sandy beaches under palapas, gringos and Mexicans boarded ponga boats to snorkel with whale sharks. Tourists sat in white rod iron benches, some facing the beautiful sailboats in the harbor, others looked toward the malecon, casual pedestrians, bike riders and shops across the way.
Our hotel, just a partial block back from the malecon, promised rooms around a courtyard, a private balcony, and rooftop terrace. Without a kitchen, we would be living high and eating out for our single night and day in La Paz! Our cute young hotel clerk, spoke excellent English and delighted us with his tale. Born in Mexico, he moved to Oregon with his parents before getting to know his native country. His parents offered him a trip and for five years he toured the United States learning English as he traveled and worked, seeking out the company of other Hispanics to help him learn. Every night after work, he practiced and studied his English. After he worked long enough to save a few dollars, he would soon be traveling to see what was over the next hilltop and on the next island. Lately he has been bouncing around Mexico, wanting to know the country of his birth, living in La Paz now for the past three years and finding life very agreeable here. He says, "It is just how I am. I have to see what is out there. And what is out there is......" he rummaged through his knowledge of two languages before continuing, "well, it is life...you know? You have to go out there and get in it and just live it, because it is what we have!" He ended with a laugh and a shake of his head. Our room would be ready in another hour or so, could he put our bags in the room for us? We were soon on our way to two for one carnitas at La Paz's Mercado Bravo. The carnitas come with salsa, onions and cilantro. We picked up enough for ourselves and for the hotel clerk. Around the corner from the carnitas shop another vendor offered fresh tortillas, hot off the grill. For a few dollars we had the makings for a wonderful taco lunch for three!
After lunch and settling into our room we proceeded on to the errands we needed to do before leaving the ease of the big city: cash machines, bus schedules, and a search for rolling tobacco (since Bruce heeded the importing regulations this year). Each errand brought opportunities to dust off our Spanish and to explore the streets of La Paz. To walk around la Paz is to immerse oneself in contemporary Mexican culture. In between the souvenir shops are the shops selling what the permanent residents of Mexico need. Everything from fashion to markets, hardware stores and barbershops, office supplies and toy stores. Away from the malecon the sounds of Spanish dominate. Borganveas bloom next to scattered litter in empty lots. Private homes abut the sidewalks next to shops and restaurants. The city bustles with life and activity, but always the pace is low key, conversations and relations seem to take precedence.
With errands completed by late afternoon, we had time for happy hour in the garden courtyard before going to our favorite place to stay in La Paz for a genuine Italian dinner and a salutation to owner Franco. We had tried to reserve a room with him, but his palapas were full, so we decided the next best thing to staying there was eating there. We found the food as good as ever and Franco happy to see us. As memories of our happy La Paz day filled our brains, this year's satisfying Pescadero visit slipped easily into the past, becoming another happy memory.
The last day for us on the Pacific side brought huge waves, unpredictable currents and cloudy weather, and it was still a bit sad to say good-bye to the ocean I had grown accustomed to seeing every morning with coffee, every evening at sunset, most afternoons, and many dark nights.
This year I also deepened a few acquaintances with "local" surfers (the local referring to the fact that they own homes in Pescadero and live here part of the year). I also enjoyed warm greetings and friendships from a few local Mexicans such as the lady who runs Rosarita's loncheria, Fidel, the vegetable vendor, and Lupe, jack-of-all-trades and man with the most generous and enthusiastically warm smile. Hosts Bobby and Wendy treated us almost like family, their children regularly visiting with us, Bobby stopping in several times a day to chat and trading favors back and forth.
But in Pescadero it is becoming too easy to not use my Spanish, to observe Mexican life from a distance and to socialize with gringos. Bus travel demands intelligible Spanish and offers opportunity to casually visit with true locals. The journey to La Paz offered just such potential. The hour wait for the bus brought opportunity to observe Mexican life in Todos Santos away from the "gringo strip" housing Hotel California, rows of souvenir shops, and the only English-speaking dentist in Todos Santos (who fixed my teeth last year). Here on the side street between bus station and city park, men hailed one another from opposite sides of the street, started conversations, which , if prolonged, sparked the need for one to cross to the other. Women walked in twosomes chaperoning small children to school, walking to work or shop. The music of Spanish spoken by native speakers was in the air. Time passed quickly and soon the bus whisked us up. The on-board movie screens showed Robin Williams as Mrs. Doubtfire dubbed in Spanish, but most people were engaged in quiet conversations with their seat mates. The older man seated across from us, head capped in gently worn straw cowboy hat, worried the folder of papers in hands that had worked outdoors most of their weathered life. I imagined him on important legal business in his state capital. The fact that he had not a single bag with him made me think he would make the journey back to his place the same day. He was on the bus when we boarded, two hours from La Paz. I wondered how far he had already traveled this morning.
Endless scenery of desert flatlands racing to the sea from the the mountains of the Sierra Laguna soon gave way to the outskirts of La Paz. Gradually we entered the bustle of the big city until the two lane highway divided into four lanes of city traffic. The bus wound its way through quieter back streets pulling into the narrow back gate of the bus station located opposite the malecon of La Paz. Soon we were walking along the picturesque boardwalk near the turquoise blue waters of the Sea of Cortez. Couples rested on sandy beaches under palapas, gringos and Mexicans boarded ponga boats to snorkel with whale sharks. Tourists sat in white rod iron benches, some facing the beautiful sailboats in the harbor, others looked toward the malecon, casual pedestrians, bike riders and shops across the way.
Our hotel, just a partial block back from the malecon, promised rooms around a courtyard, a private balcony, and rooftop terrace. Without a kitchen, we would be living high and eating out for our single night and day in La Paz! Our cute young hotel clerk, spoke excellent English and delighted us with his tale. Born in Mexico, he moved to Oregon with his parents before getting to know his native country. His parents offered him a trip and for five years he toured the United States learning English as he traveled and worked, seeking out the company of other Hispanics to help him learn. Every night after work, he practiced and studied his English. After he worked long enough to save a few dollars, he would soon be traveling to see what was over the next hilltop and on the next island. Lately he has been bouncing around Mexico, wanting to know the country of his birth, living in La Paz now for the past three years and finding life very agreeable here. He says, "It is just how I am. I have to see what is out there. And what is out there is......" he rummaged through his knowledge of two languages before continuing, "well, it is life...you know? You have to go out there and get in it and just live it, because it is what we have!" He ended with a laugh and a shake of his head. Our room would be ready in another hour or so, could he put our bags in the room for us? We were soon on our way to two for one carnitas at La Paz's Mercado Bravo. The carnitas come with salsa, onions and cilantro. We picked up enough for ourselves and for the hotel clerk. Around the corner from the carnitas shop another vendor offered fresh tortillas, hot off the grill. For a few dollars we had the makings for a wonderful taco lunch for three!
After lunch and settling into our room we proceeded on to the errands we needed to do before leaving the ease of the big city: cash machines, bus schedules, and a search for rolling tobacco (since Bruce heeded the importing regulations this year). Each errand brought opportunities to dust off our Spanish and to explore the streets of La Paz. To walk around la Paz is to immerse oneself in contemporary Mexican culture. In between the souvenir shops are the shops selling what the permanent residents of Mexico need. Everything from fashion to markets, hardware stores and barbershops, office supplies and toy stores. Away from the malecon the sounds of Spanish dominate. Borganveas bloom next to scattered litter in empty lots. Private homes abut the sidewalks next to shops and restaurants. The city bustles with life and activity, but always the pace is low key, conversations and relations seem to take precedence.
With errands completed by late afternoon, we had time for happy hour in the garden courtyard before going to our favorite place to stay in La Paz for a genuine Italian dinner and a salutation to owner Franco. We had tried to reserve a room with him, but his palapas were full, so we decided the next best thing to staying there was eating there. We found the food as good as ever and Franco happy to see us. As memories of our happy La Paz day filled our brains, this year's satisfying Pescadero visit slipped easily into the past, becoming another happy memory.
Arrival in Cabo Pulmo
We are safely harbored here in Cabo Pulmo. What Internet access we have is extremely iffy and we are just now figuring it all out. Later will post what I prepared in La Paz and more on Cabo Pulmo. For now, just picture us enjoying the lovely turquoise bluewatersof theSea of Cortez.
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