January 27 to February 11, 2017—Land’s End
Todos Santos (All Saints)
From La Paz we crossed back to the Pacific, to Todos Santos (TS). TS is the northern edge of the heavily-touristed region of southern Baja that reaches north from Cabos San Lucas. It is day trip distance from Cabo so a lot of people who have flown into Cabo take tour buses to TS to see “the real Mexico” and a whole industry has sprung up to simulate the real Mexico. It is nice enough—some touristy shops but a greater number of fine art and craft shops selling silver, pottery, Oaxacan blankets. There are a lot of restaurants, a few nice hotels. The prices were higher than any place we had visited, and the shopkeepers did not negotiate.
We were lucky to get two spots at the only RV park, El Litro, a dusty lot at end of a dirt road on the edge of town, some palms providing shade. Most of the spaces were taken up with long-term residents. The owner, an American named Sylvia, and several of the residents I talked to, had been there thirty years.
Mexican towns are filled with dogs, and they are overwhelmingly good-looking mutts, well-fed and well-behaved. The dogs of Todos Santos were more aggressive and threatening. Our friends Alan and Betsi have a lovable old golden lab, a service dog that doesn’t have an aggressive gene in its body. It was harassed and nipped on several occasions by the local mongrels on the occasions when we took her into town. The dust, the dogs, the Cabo gringos—we hadn’t found the place where we could hole up for an extended period.
Took a couple of trips to the beach nearby, Punta Lobos. We saw whales spouting offshore, and rays jumping clear out of the water near shore. The fishing fleet is here, about twenty pangas on the beach. Tourists come here for whale-watching and fishing tours. When the boats return from these trips the operators idle offshore about thirty yards and read the rhythms of the waves. When the timing is right they go full-throttle and drive the boats straight into the shore, hurtling about thirty feet onto the sand, props spinning. We watched them fillet the mackerel and bonito they had caught.
I got a glimpse of the phenomenon called “green flash” that I has interested me all these years. In the tropics (the Tropic of Cancer runs just north of TS), in the moment when the last of the sun disappears into the sea, observers report seeing the sky flash green for microsecond. What I saw was the tiny arc of the disappearing sun turn a distinct green color just before dipping into the ocean.
Since we were so close to the bottom of the peninsula we decided we might as well see things through to the bottom of the peninsula so left Todos Santos after a couple nights and went to Cabo San Lucas. It is bustling with local life and lots of visitors who fly into the nearby airport. Beaches lined with all-inclusive, barricaded hotels, and with vendors of everything–blankets, massages, jetskis, sensemilla, blankets, hats, Cuban cigars, everything “almost free today, senor.” We rented space from a peculiar Dutchman, given to odd comments that I think he thought were funny. I would have liked to have heard his story but we walked the beaches all day, went into town for an overpriced dinner, didn’t see any celebrities, and left the next morning.
Drove across the peninsula again and up the Gulf coast for an hour to Martin Verdugo’s Hotel and RV Resort in Los Barriles, and here we have remained for twelve days. It has been nice to sit in one place for a while. Mark and Valerie had arrived a few days before us so we were all together again. Alan had a high school friend who built a house in Barriles to spend the winters in. It is one of the best-designed homes I’ve ever been in; not a mansion but perfectly thought-out and high quality construction by a local architect and her husband, a contractor.
Los Barriles attracts kite-boarders and sail-boarders from all over the world. When the wind kicks up to fifteen knots or more they swarm the gulf for miles of coast here. When the wind dies down for a few days they race off to find it. Amazing aerealists, these guys, launching off waves to hang twenty or thirty feet in the air, cutting through the surf at 30 mph. Some of the kite-boards have hydrofoils underneath that allow the board to rise up a few feet out of the water and avoid the bounce of the waves so the operator is just gliding along smoothly like an ice skater.
This is also a world class fishing destination—marlin and all other bill-fish, tuna, dorado, rooster fish. The high season is the spring and early summer, but there is still a lot of fishing activity here. Mobula Rays jump out of the near shore water here, with regularity, propelling themselves several feet into the air and bellyflopping loudly, for reasons not understood.
Apparently Los Barriles (“the Barrels,” for reasons I haven’t been able to discover; I did see many barrel cactus here which I had not seen elsewhere in Baja) has exploded in popularity with gringos over just the past few decades. Several RV parks accommodating 60+ rigs each, many hotels, and a lot of property going into north American hands. (Property laws in Mexico for the most part forbid actual ownership by non-Mexicans. People here wind up getting lifetime leases. They can only realize equity by selling the lease or becoming renters but they never actually own title to the property.) A lot of this growth has been fueled by the wind sports.
We liked it because it was relatively cheap at $22/night for water and electricity and sewer connection, had hot showers, free but sketchy wi-fi, lots of dining options, and occasional musical entertainment at local establishments. I played harmonica backup for a couple of performers at the open mic held at Fogota restaurant on Thursdays. There is also a palapa covered, twelve-seat open bar on the beach in front of Verdugo’s park, open from 4 to 8, serving potent and delicious margaritas, run by an enterprising young fellow named Rodrigo who must squeeze a couple hundred limes every evening.
Brenda has walked miles of the beach in both directions. I hiked up the little “mountain” overlooking the town a couple times. We can walk ride bikes to everything in town which has about a half mile of main street with shops and markets and bars and restaurants. Took a couple day trips to see the area and one excursion visiting the veterinarians in neighboring villages until we finally found one that we think has cured Soulie’s ear problem.
Otherwise we have just been lounging, meeting up with our travel companions at the bar in the evening or at a restaurant, or taking turns hosting dinners. Mark is perfecting his recipe for a Baja specialty called La Coquetiel—served in a parfait glass it is a cold, tomato –based concoction like gazpacho, containing chopped vegetables and an assortment of cold cooked seafood, and lime juice.
The water is a little too cold for everyone except me to swim in. It is clear to ten feet and full of life; falls off to deep very quickly and has a strong tidal pull.
Barriles has the most treacherous streets and sidewalks. The curbs are cliffs, sometimes a foot and a half high. The sidewalks slope off sharply into the street at odd intervals. There are often barbwire fences running along the sidewalk. There are open utlity connections everywhere–some you could put both hands in, some you could drop a TV into. Brenda took a spill on one of the slopes that interrupt the sidewalk, sliding on the sand that had accumulated there. Got skinned knees and a skinned elbow. Could have been worse, even deadly, if a car had been coming.
We finish up our stay in Barriles tomorrow. Alan and Betsi left three days ago heading back to California. Mark and Valerie left three nights ago also to check out more remote beaches but returned her to Verdugo’s just an hour or so ago. Tomorrow we caravan with them inland a little ways into the mountains for a couple nights before starting a slow return to the states, taking maybe three weeks to cover 800 miles.
