It's been an unusual year for us in terms of weather here: we've had mostly cloudy/ windy but warm days here. (Never mind the zip-away pants I wore out of Bozeman so long ago.) It's hard to snorkel when the wind chops up the water enough to fill your snorkel or stir up sand and cloud your vision. If there's no direct sun, it's even harder to see the underwater sites. These weather conditions do, however, gift time and a willingness for other observations.
Having done the snorkel scene, we unbegrudgingly turned our attention to other pursuits, giving us a better feel for this community and it's members. I'm happy to conclude that the dogs here are way more laid back than the loyal protector dogs of Pescadero:
In fact, where California Quail wander Pescadero gossiping about Chief Wahoo, the roosters and hens here wander the streets of Cabo Pulmo more concerned about Net-an-YAH-huu, than they are with their natural enemy: dogs. (I read of a dog destroying 60 hens in another Baja community).
But the dogs are not the only laid-back folks in Cabo Pulmo. I mean, when central downtown looks like this:
How can anybody be uptight?
The "downtown" businesses center around boats and tourists. Every dive shop has four or five boats scattered in the area. Every residence has one or two in the yard. All day long the sound of poorly running Suburbans without functioning mufflers rumble up and down the rather quiet streets. No matter what the weather, it seems, boats are coming and going while the beer and taco place overlooking the beach does a steady business.
It all makes me ask, "How did this unique community accessible only by rough dirt roads (some car rental agencies will not rent a car if the customer confesses to taking it to Cabo Pulmo) come to be?
Informational clapboards "downtown" tell the story. It began as a fishing village. First there were pearl divers. When that pursuit exhausted itself, Cabo Pulmo natives extracted a living from the sea by fishing. As time went on, villagers had to go further and further out to sea to capture the requisite number of fish. Often the fishing boats (pongas, of the type still used today) anchored to the coral reefs. Then marine biologists from Mexican universities became interested and started doing studies. Before long, it became clear that the practice of anchoring on them harmed the coral reef upon which the diverse marine life (fish) depended. Massive education programs began all over Baja California Sur. After much organizing and collaboration a decision was made: the people of Cabo Pulmo would continue making a living from the sea, but in order to do so, the reefs and marine life must be protected, not harvested. The sea surrounding Cabo Pulmo and it's resident coral reefs became a liquid national park. Today, all fishing must occur beyond the park's boundaries. Pride in this jewel of the sea and efforts to protect can be seen everywhere; it is The common denominator of all who are here.
Instead of public trash cans along main roadways, recycling bins like these dot the roadside
When I first saw these, I got excited about all the sorted garbage and wondered why the rest of Baja couldn't participate. That was before I watched them being emptied. Yep, it was the usual garbage truck that pulled up. It's driver carefully picked up the liner for each bin and dumped it into his binless truck, all in one. I raised my eyebrows at the student manning the information desk and he simply shrugged his shoulders. My take is that some people began an awareness campaign that quickly outgrew the necessary infrastructure.
The residents of Cabo Pulmo do still depend on the sea today in a different way. As long as the reefs are cared for, tourists will come to see the diverse and colorful fish inhabiting the only living coral reef in the Gulf of California.
And that they do. The atmosphere is noticeably different here from other Baja towns. Every Mexican passes by with a smile, a wave and a gringo-ized greeting of "Hola!" Don't get me wrong, there are still the street "hawkers" calling out to every tourist (Mexican, North American or European) asking if you want to snorkel or scuba today. Unlike the "hawkers" in Cabo San Lucas, San Jose del Cabo or Cerritos, they let you go with a "No, gracias" and wave you on your way with the simple benediction of "Vaya bien" (go well).
And our dwelling here is very simple and private compared to the hyped-up Cabo San Lucas marina. In this compound of 4 rentals plus the owner's domicile, we rarely know if anyone else is here.
The owner has thoughtfully oriented each casita so no one faces any of the others. His lush landscaping keeps each of us hidden from the other with disorienting paths through the plant life. Everyday the owner hand waters another section, reporting that it gives him something to do and also gives him a chance to assess which plants need trimming or propping up or more room to grow. I laughed at his need to do something exclaiming that I thought he might keep busy enough with his shop projects. That comment brought a rare shadow of a smile fleeting across his lips.. One of the hidden structures on his property houses beautiful guitars. "I don't do anything with them," he gruffly replied when asked, "I build them." His latest project is building a new prosthesis. The one the doctors gave him, in his words "is shit" and he has an idea for making one with a better fit and a newer hinge that will make the appendage more useful. He's had a prosthesis all of three months and already he employs his surfboard and guitar making skills to craft something better than that provided by the medical community!
The North American residents here have developed other diversions for themselves on cloudy, windy days. While exploring up the road from our rental we discovered three tennis courts. Each is gated. From the rope closing the gate hangs a sign declaring that the court is "for members only." Somehow, I think club membership depends only on a person's willingness to help pay a share of annual upkeep and not on a nifty tennis wardrobe. One court has different lines on it, indicating to me that pickleball has found fans down here. And the courts are actively used. We heard of a fellow whose wife once said, "I always told him he was going to die on that court." And he did just that!
That same fellow was an active contributor to Cabo Pulmo's trails association who contributed more than pesos to trail maintenance. A map hangs on our refrigerator door:
He built a nicely joined wide and backless bench at the apex of one of the trails, positioned in such a way as to provide a beautiful view of the sea. It was on one of these trails we got to see our first Baja rattler. I hadn't heard that sound since my childhood in Arizona, but that reaction is automatic and instinctive: stopped me in my tracks. Bruce, right behind me, stepped on my heel wanting a closer look! He had no choice but to back away. I love that they give you a warning!
The calendar on my phone gives me the warning that our days down here will soon come to an end. My heart tells me it's been too long since we've seen those delightful grandchildren, and I do miss them so! But as time marches on, we are determined to make the most of our days down here. We watch the weather and position ourselves to be ready for what each day dishes out. While cooler cloudy days have promoted terrestrial exploration, sunny days call for something else. I'll save that for another blog post.
But the dogs are not the only laid-back folks in Cabo Pulmo. I mean, when central downtown looks like this:
How can anybody be uptight?
The "downtown" businesses center around boats and tourists. Every dive shop has four or five boats scattered in the area. Every residence has one or two in the yard. All day long the sound of poorly running Suburbans without functioning mufflers rumble up and down the rather quiet streets. No matter what the weather, it seems, boats are coming and going while the beer and taco place overlooking the beach does a steady business.
It all makes me ask, "How did this unique community accessible only by rough dirt roads (some car rental agencies will not rent a car if the customer confesses to taking it to Cabo Pulmo) come to be?
Informational clapboards "downtown" tell the story. It began as a fishing village. First there were pearl divers. When that pursuit exhausted itself, Cabo Pulmo natives extracted a living from the sea by fishing. As time went on, villagers had to go further and further out to sea to capture the requisite number of fish. Often the fishing boats (pongas, of the type still used today) anchored to the coral reefs. Then marine biologists from Mexican universities became interested and started doing studies. Before long, it became clear that the practice of anchoring on them harmed the coral reef upon which the diverse marine life (fish) depended. Massive education programs began all over Baja California Sur. After much organizing and collaboration a decision was made: the people of Cabo Pulmo would continue making a living from the sea, but in order to do so, the reefs and marine life must be protected, not harvested. The sea surrounding Cabo Pulmo and it's resident coral reefs became a liquid national park. Today, all fishing must occur beyond the park's boundaries. Pride in this jewel of the sea and efforts to protect can be seen everywhere; it is The common denominator of all who are here.
Instead of public trash cans along main roadways, recycling bins like these dot the roadside
When I first saw these, I got excited about all the sorted garbage and wondered why the rest of Baja couldn't participate. That was before I watched them being emptied. Yep, it was the usual garbage truck that pulled up. It's driver carefully picked up the liner for each bin and dumped it into his binless truck, all in one. I raised my eyebrows at the student manning the information desk and he simply shrugged his shoulders. My take is that some people began an awareness campaign that quickly outgrew the necessary infrastructure.
The residents of Cabo Pulmo do still depend on the sea today in a different way. As long as the reefs are cared for, tourists will come to see the diverse and colorful fish inhabiting the only living coral reef in the Gulf of California.
And that they do. The atmosphere is noticeably different here from other Baja towns. Every Mexican passes by with a smile, a wave and a gringo-ized greeting of "Hola!" Don't get me wrong, there are still the street "hawkers" calling out to every tourist (Mexican, North American or European) asking if you want to snorkel or scuba today. Unlike the "hawkers" in Cabo San Lucas, San Jose del Cabo or Cerritos, they let you go with a "No, gracias" and wave you on your way with the simple benediction of "Vaya bien" (go well).
And our dwelling here is very simple and private compared to the hyped-up Cabo San Lucas marina. In this compound of 4 rentals plus the owner's domicile, we rarely know if anyone else is here.
The owner has thoughtfully oriented each casita so no one faces any of the others. His lush landscaping keeps each of us hidden from the other with disorienting paths through the plant life. Everyday the owner hand waters another section, reporting that it gives him something to do and also gives him a chance to assess which plants need trimming or propping up or more room to grow. I laughed at his need to do something exclaiming that I thought he might keep busy enough with his shop projects. That comment brought a rare shadow of a smile fleeting across his lips.. One of the hidden structures on his property houses beautiful guitars. "I don't do anything with them," he gruffly replied when asked, "I build them." His latest project is building a new prosthesis. The one the doctors gave him, in his words "is shit" and he has an idea for making one with a better fit and a newer hinge that will make the appendage more useful. He's had a prosthesis all of three months and already he employs his surfboard and guitar making skills to craft something better than that provided by the medical community!
The North American residents here have developed other diversions for themselves on cloudy, windy days. While exploring up the road from our rental we discovered three tennis courts. Each is gated. From the rope closing the gate hangs a sign declaring that the court is "for members only." Somehow, I think club membership depends only on a person's willingness to help pay a share of annual upkeep and not on a nifty tennis wardrobe. One court has different lines on it, indicating to me that pickleball has found fans down here. And the courts are actively used. We heard of a fellow whose wife once said, "I always told him he was going to die on that court." And he did just that!
That same fellow was an active contributor to Cabo Pulmo's trails association who contributed more than pesos to trail maintenance. A map hangs on our refrigerator door:
The calendar on my phone gives me the warning that our days down here will soon come to an end. My heart tells me it's been too long since we've seen those delightful grandchildren, and I do miss them so! But as time marches on, we are determined to make the most of our days down here. We watch the weather and position ourselves to be ready for what each day dishes out. While cooler cloudy days have promoted terrestrial exploration, sunny days call for something else. I'll save that for another blog post.
