Baja Traveling

Quick, put the fish back in the water!” I
yell to Bill.
A Botox-lipped fish, called a Burrito Grunt,
is flopping around at my feet, covered in sand,
fighting for its life.
A few minutes earlier, high in the horizon, I
watched a cormorant pluck the unlucky fish from
the Sea of Cortez. A large frigate bird with forked
tail feathers then gave chase to the cormorant. It
was like a Discovery Channel scene come alive.
As the made-for-TV action disappeared from
view, I went back to writing in my journal.
Thump!
Smack-dab in front of me, a crater formed
in the sand, a wayward fish at the center. The
cormorant released the fish to me like a tourist
headed home gives away foreign change at the
airport – as if I needed a handout. Alas, Burrito
Grunts do not come wrapped in a tortilla.
Bill, in wildlife rescue mode, transported the
convulsing fish back to the water. We watched
for a few moments and sure enough, the shellshocked
fish shook off the sand and swam away,
no doubt eager to reunite with his schoolmates to
tell his improbable tale. Bill and I high-five one
another—knowing we made a difference in the
life of one troubled pescado.
Yes, you never know when fresh seafood may
drop into your lap when paddling in Baja, even if
you don’t choose to eat it.
Bill and I are near the funky fishing village
of Loreto, 700 miles south of the border on the
Sea of Cortez, on a one-week self-supported
kayaking trip. “Self-supported” means no
motorboats—we travel under our own steam
and carry all our gear. There are 10 of us, plus
three tour guides from our outfitter, Sea Kayak
Adventures.
We will paddle double kayaks into Loreto Bay
National Marine Park, and visit Isla Danzante
and Isla Carmen, both uninhabited wildlife
sanctuaries declared as UNESCO World Heritage
Sites. We will be off the grid—no email, cell
phones, hot showers or flush toilets. Instead,
we’ll reset our priorities to paddling, snorkeling,
hiking, swimming, and, at the end of each day,
reward our burdensome diligence with happy
hour.
At a short orientation the night before our
departure, held at the swanky La Mision hotel
in Loreto, I was given three dry bags with “San
Jose” written on them to hold all my worldly
possessions for the next seven days. Clear
advance instructions were given on what to pack,
so I was prepared. But the choice between Keen
or Teva shoes, a towel or a sweatshirt, continued
to flutter in my consciousness.
Am I really ready for this? Squelching my
lingering doubts, I made my way downstairs to
meet the van that would take us to the launch site
and the adventure of a lifetime.
My paddling partner for most of the trip is
Gary, a tall, strong man in his late-60s who
works as a substitute school teacher. This is his
fourth Baja trip with Sea Kayak Adventures.
He is here along with his two old friends who
together call themselves, Larry, Curly and Moe.
The fact that Gary is a multi-trip repeat customer
comforts my novice apprehensions.
The guides demonstrate how to pack the
watertight hatches of our kayaks with sleeping
bags, pads, tents, and dry bags. I am sporting a
life vest, a broad-brimmed hat reminiscent of
a bee keeper, my Maui Jim shades and SPF-30
sunscreen. Gary sits in front of the double kayak
and I’m in back in charge of working the rudder.
Paddles in hand, we are ready to put civilization
in our wake.
There is nothing like the first time you launch
a sea kayak on open waters. You feel like an
ancient mariner setting out to traverse the sea
to an unknown world. An aboriginal sensibility
overtakes your consciousness and now is all there
is. Gone are thoughts of purpose, expectations,
doubts or even drained energy. The organic
nature of a fresh start takes hold and everything
is possible. Deeper into the journey, I would
see that all of us on this trip are searching for
something: adventure, camaraderie, connection
to sea and sky—all of it coalescing in this
nascent exploration into the wilderness.
After two hours of paddling, we make our
first landfall: Isla Carmen, a rugged desert island,
the largest in the area at over 18 miles long. We
pull out on a sandy beach of sea shells and coral.
Group protocol has us carry the heavily loaded
kayaks above the high-tide line in teams of six
to eight. At around 200 pounds each with food
and water, they are gut-busters. Next, we unpack
the group gear and then our personal belongings.
This gentle rhythm of collaborative routine
establishes itself early on. We will paddle for
two hours every morning and two hours every
afternoon.
The ratio of our three tour guides – Ray, Vlady
and Edgar – for 10 clients means one of them is
always available for hiking, snorkeling, cooking
or mischief-making. The camaraderie between
these tres amigos is genuine and heartfelt. They
are a winning combination of efficient work,
organization and playfulness. It’s obvious they
like each other and their work. Vlady teases
us with his colorful gringo-Spanish greetings:
“Hola Coca Cola! Que pasa calabassa? Nada
Limonada.”
Asked if he ever gets tired of the guide’s life,
Vlady replies, “Never, I love my office.”
Mealtime provides opportunity for a number
of trip highlights. Our first two dinners were
Pescado Veracruz and Pollo Mole made with a
spicy Oaxacan chocolate sauce. After that, all
meals are vegetarian; keeping meats fresh after a
few days in this remote setting and warm climate
is not feasible. However, we have fresh fruit at
every meal – papaya, melon and pineapple – and
vegetables – zucchini, cucumber and chayote.
My favorite dinner is tortilla soup made in a
chicken broth with carrots, jicama, onions,
tomatoes, and served with avocado and salsa.
I don’t know what made me happier: holding
a steaming bowl of hot soup while the sun set
after a long day of paddling, or watching Vlady
and Edgar prepare this savory dish shirtless,
with only aprons and board shorts covering their
bronzed bodies.
At night, the sky comes alive with stars. First
Venus appears, then the constellations of Orion
and Taurus, then the Big Dipper. Voila! The
Milky Way opens up in striking wonderment.
My reptilian brain knows the stars are always
present, I’m just not aware of it on a daily basis.
Every night in the Baja wilderness I would
remain awestruck for a moment as the celestial
heavens penetrated my being.
I am also introduced to a new natural wonder:
bioluminescence. At night, the marine life
emits light as a chemical reaction resulting in
thousands of dancing lights near the water’s
surface. Like fireflies on water, tiny light-beings
boogy-woogy to nature’s rhythms. I look up
and see luminous stars, then look to the sea and
marvel at nature’s mirror. I ponder the literal and
figurative lightness of being. If illumination is
above and below me, then does the luminosity
also dwell within me? I exhale a deep existential
sigh and am filled to the brim with trust that all is
as it should be.
It is 9 p.m. I reckon in camping time that’s
nearly midnight. I step into my one-person tent,
blow air into my sleeping pad, unroll my bag
and make a pillow out of my fleece jacket. I zip
up the tent after bringing in my hiking shoes—
scorpion abatement control; these Baja natives
like to crawl inside things. I power off my
headlamp and fall asleep to the sound of waves
gently lapping the shore, lulling me into a deep
restorative slumber. My head hits the pillow and
I am out, dreaming of bioluminescence and the
magic of the sea.
I wake to the sound of clanking lids on pans
and a propane tank firing up. The smell of freshbrewed
coffee lingers in the salty morning air.
The kayaks wait patiently on the high-tide line
like sentinels on Easter Island, ready to come
alive. Tent zippers open and achy, sleepy bodies
emerge one by one. The ethereal morning light
on the canyon walls expose striations in the rock.
A pelican skims straight as an arrow over the

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