Wonder and Awe on the Pacific Baja Coast

Photograph by Kristin Pederson

"In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities. In the expert's mind, there are very few." -Suzuki Roshi, Zen Mind: Beginner's Mind

Sailing with Crew Again

When looking back at our earlier sailing experiences, we remember they held certain magic and imagination. This was before we set expectations, before we thought we knew what cruising was supposed to be. Every day was a discovery. And it was hard and gritty and wonderful and surprising. We made countless mistakes, reflected, and continued making them. We were open to new ideas. We were learning.

And somehow along the way, I think I lost some of these qualities. I cared too much about being seen as a capable sailor that I may have focused less on the best part of sailing: the lifelong learning.

Kristin had a positive effect on us this trip. Despite her extensive years and skills in the sailing industry, she never flaunts them. She looks at everything with an open mind. Despite her knowledge, she approached De Novo with curiosity. She crews to see how others sail and incorporates what she likes into her own practice. Her love for learning makes her a great sailor.

And most importantly, although she's sailed the Pacific Baja coast multiple times, she remained amazed at it all, as if seeing it for the first time.

In his book, Awake in the Wild, Mark Coleman writes, "When we are in nature with a beginner's mind, we look at it as if through the eyes of a child, and it becomes a mysterious, magical wonderland."

And after a couple days in Cabo, when the touristy noise, rolly anchorage, and breakdowns onboard De Novo made us grumpy, we made the conscious decision to look it all for what it is: magical. And things changed. We remembered none of the small things matter. What matters is that we are in Mexico, we sailed here, and we have these unique opportunities to experience new environments and cultures.

Isla San Martín

Many cruisers don't stop in Isla San Martín. The only protection it provides is from southerlies and westerlies, not Baja's prevalent northerlies. It's not on the Baja Ha Ha route and rarely discussed in cruisers' groups. So we were lucky to get the rare southerly at just the right time and visit this gem. We easily could have missed it.

We read there were lava tubes, long caves formed over eons by volcanic lava, so we rowed to shore to find them. And we walked in circles, as lost gringos often do, until one of the three men at the fishing camp noticed and took pity on us. Mizael, our new friend, didn’t simply explain where his favorite cave was; he led us there. And he did it with so much energy and enthusiasm it was difficult to keep up.

We squatted and climbed and crawled down the windy, narrow passage for a good quarter mile. It just kept going. We depended on our cellphone flashlights to see, but not Mizael; in pitch dark, he simply felt by memory and his other senses. He was so patient with us and our limited Spanish and explained each step in basic terms.

Once we emerged from the cave, Mizael cut off "tuna" (prickly pear) for us to taste and showed us the lagoon and “lobos marinos” (sea lions, literal translation: sea wolves). We tried to compensate him for his expertise and time with food, fuel, money, anything we had onboard–but he refused. In the end, he only accepted a couple cans of cerveza for his hermanos. And even then, he gave us abalone shells and an offer of lobster. Despite visiting and working on this island for a decade, he continued to celebrate its wonder and simply enjoyed sharing it with others.

Bahía Tortugas

We learned of Enrique of Bahía Tortugas months before we arrived. He is known for watering down fuel and selling it at exorbitant prices and aggressively blocking cruisers from filling jerry cans from the station in town. As a result, we made sure to top off in Ensenada. Before we set our anchor, Enrique was there in a panga trying to sell.

So naturally, we felt a bit suspicious when another man, Pedro, approached us when we dinghied ashore. Pedro warned us of banditos in the area and offered to watch our dinghy for a price. We immediately thought it was another scam. We refused to pay him, he persisted, and we walked away.

After talking with others in-shore that evening, we learned we made a mistake. Pedro is not a scammer. He is a gentle man who's had a tough life. A cruiser offered him money to watch his dinghy at one point, and he learned he could provide an important service. And so he stands watch, never taking his eyes off the dinghies, coiling their lines and scaring off birds, and being the best security officer he could be. In fact, he grows confused and paces back and forth if you don't use his services. His commitment is outstanding. Throughout the day, a young relative comes to bring him food and drinks and relieve him so he can take breaks; otherwise he's there every day of cruising season, waiting for the next boat to come in.

We felt silly for assuming the worst. So when we returned to our dinghy, we brought him pizza. And on following trips ashore, we were sure to pay him and thank him for the service he provides. He generally asks for 2 dollars or 40 pesos per dinghy. A tip of 10 pesos (around 50 cents) is appreciated, though we learned others often tip him with cookies or other handmade goodies, and Pedro loves those.

Bottom line, head to the southwest side of the big pier in town and pay Pedro to watch your dinghy.

Another tip: visit the little cantina with a blue seawall just a few steps west of Pedro. The name isn't listed on the building (as far as we could tell), but you'll recognize it by the friendliest man you'll ever meet, Rogelio. Rogelio traveled throughout Mexico and ultimately decided his hometown, Bahía Tortugas, was his paradise. He can stare for hours at the ocean view and always feel something new. Rogelio shares the same quality as Muir and Mizael. Even if he runs out of beer, he tells patrons to go to the store to buy some and come back to relax on his deck and use his wifi. He simply enjoys meeting new friends.

We left Bahía Tortugas with a much different perspective of the town than when we arrived. It is a spectacular place, filled with warm, kind people.

Bahía Magdalena

Bahía Magdalena was the first place we swam off the boat sans wetsuit, a practice that's continuing into December. In Puerto Magdalena, people sit outside on the porches with their dogs and wave. While eating at the restaurant, Mira Mar, the chef came out twice to talk to us: first, to ask how our meal was and second, to provide bug spray as the sun set. We enjoyed the ambiance of this carefree, friendly town. We hiked the trail across the island to the Pacific, explored the mangrove labyrinth, and bushwhacked a prickly trek to the white sand dunes on the south side of Bahía Santa Maria. Definitely one of our favorite anchorages.

Cabo San Lucas

After traveling so remotely for nearly two weeks, Cabo San Lucas was an abrupt change. After over a thousand kilometers of sleepy towns and open desert canyons, we now found endless resorts, cruise ships, crowds, rolly seas, loud music, and jet skis. The chaos was overwhelming.

Cabo isn't really Mexico, but what spring break tourists think Mexico should be. If you're nostalgic for 90s club culture, bikini outline shirts on men, and Hey Macarana on repeat, this is the town for you.

Sure, Cabo wasn't our favorite place so far, but we did find it entertaining and, at times, enjoyable. Overall, it was a memorable stay for us; its challenges pushed us to finally accept what so many people taught us on the way south: find the magic in every minute, keep an open mind, and fall deeper in love with one another and our environment every day. There's so much to be grateful for.

Photos:

Isla San Martín

Mizael leading us through the lava tube

Mizael picks tuna for us to try. He's woven polypro line that's washed ashore into a small broom to dust away any spikes. Nothing goes wasted on this island.

Hi you!

Oh hey there, buddy.

This buddy wasn't moving.

We adored Rogelio, and he apparently adored us too, as he added our pic to his cantina's Instagram page! That makes us locals, right?

Rogelio seemed to attract all the community cats and dogs and give them lots of love.

Oh hi you!

And you!

View from Rogelio's deck

Riveting the whisker pole...or at least trying to. I learned I am no Rosie. Dave was much more successful, but he refused to wear the red bandana for the picture.