SEALS AND SAN LUCAS, A VERY SPECIAL GIFT, RIDING AN ATV & A FINAL SUNSET AND SUNRISE

ALL PICTURES AND TEXT ARE COPYRIGHTED BY DON AND SARA SCHULTZ

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No visit to the Baja would be complete without seeing the resort town of Cabo San Lucas, named for the slender cape (Cabo-end, San-mountain, Lucas-light) extending eastward from Baja's southernmost tip. Cabo, as it is referred to by the locals, has gradually developed into a tourist hot spot over the last forty years. Although English pirates used the harbor as a hiding place for attacks on Manila galleons, many of the historical incidents ascribed to Cabo San Lucas may have actually occurred near present day San Jose del Cabo to the north east, where ships often watered at the estuary. The second largest city on the Baja at over 50,000, Cabo is the end of the line for Highway 1 and has a reputation for being a winter playground for the rich and famous.

The highlight of our visit to the area was a glass bottom boat ride around the El Archon (the arch), a huge granite land formation at the point where the Sea of Cortez and the Pacific meet at the Playa de Amour(Lover’s beach), In 1940, the population of Cabo San Lucas could practically be counted on both hands, yet John Steinbeck's description is still apt and thought provoking more than half a century later:

"The tip of the Cape at San Lucas, with the huge gray Friars standing up on the end, has behind the rocks a little beach which is a small boy's dream of pirates . . . and this little beach must so have appealed to earlier men, for the names of pirates are still in the rock, and the pirate ships did dart out of here and did come back."

Many of our fellow Rvers enjoyed an evening sunset dinner cruise around the famous point. We decided on the less elegant and much less expensive glass bottom boat tour. With only five fellow passengers, we boarded a small fishing boat equipped with a glass viewing panel down the middle. The guide explained that we were passing over an extension of the geologic fault that formed the peninsula and that the water depth plunges to over 3000 ft off the rocks. We soon could see a myriad of reef fish on the colorful coral ridges that circled the point. He pointed out Lover’s Beach on the Sea of Cortez which was filled with bathers enjoying the sun and sparkling water, but warned us of the dangers of entering the water on the Pacific side. Divorce Cove it is called.

Some of the arches had been worn by the wind and waves to the point of collapse, leaving huge vertical monoliths that towered above the water. Seals often are found sunning on the rock near the arches. I brought along my snorkeling gear and our guide agreed to drop me off at the beach. What a delight to float above thousands of colorful fish and coral. I marveled at how the seals were delighted at my presence. They would lie on their backs, suspended in the emerald waters, turning their heads causally from side to side as if in an invisible easy chair, only to bolt into a sudden dive. They would twist and swerve within inches of me and peer into my masked face as if to say, “Do you want to play?” What a day!

SHOPPING

Mexico is one of the few places nearby the States where the exchange rate still favors the shopper. The Baja is hungry for US dollars and whether it is fuel, food, clothing or artwork, most potential purchases appear to the traveler as a good deal.

Fuel is a no brainier as ALL fuel in the Baja is purchased from the government controlled PEMAX stations at about $2 a gallon US compared to $4 in California. The only exception are the occasional roadside entrepreneurs who are only to happy to resell fuel from a collection of gas cans at remote locations along Highway 1. You will pay a lot more for this petrol that is usually purchased in desperation.

Food stores, as we know them in the States, are only found in the larger cities like La Paz or Cabo San Lucas. Wal-Mart has even found the Baja, but the variety and selection of items are much more limited. We did most of our food shopping in small local markets which are heavy on fruits and veggies and short on meats and dairy. Poultry is extremely expensive and pork out ranks beef by far. The smell of seafood often overpowers the shoppers with sometimes less than a pleasant effect. Staples like cooking oil, beans, rice and spices occupy the largest amount of space and, surprisingly, canned juices are also in abundance. It becomes obvious to a Gringo shopper that knowing how to change the basics into delicious dishes is an art developed in thousands of kitchens across the Baja by generations of loving mothers. There is little “fast food” in the stores. One aspect of food shopping the visitor would find fascinating is how much it is a family affair. Mom, dad, grandpa, grandma, aunty and all the kids come to the store. While mom walks down the aisles deciding on purchases, her gaze continually flips back to dad, standing inconspicuously nearby. As the children loudly chatter for candy and toys, it is dad who acts as the family accountant, approving purchases with a nod or vetoing with a quick shake of the head. There is never a dispute and this silent conversation can be seen over and over in every store. Women’s liberation has yet to find the Baja.

Clothing is sold mostly at outdoor shops and often by beach peddlers. Sara bought a few items but found most of the selections were inexpensive but poorly made. The usual tourist trash, like souvenirs of stain glass, beadwork, silver and T-shirts could be found everywhere
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Peddlers would approach the RV on the beach, always with small children to increase the sales pressure with, “What you want? Almost free. Blankets, bracelets, beads.” When these sales pitches were met with silence, the list of available items would expand to “massages, pedicures, back rubs, liposuction. What you want? We got it.” Sara and I finally bit on two beautiful all wool blankets, picturing an abstract fish design to cover our two suede recliners. The young man had traveled all the way from the mainland of Mexico and proudly proclaimed that he had designed and woven his own wares. He finished the fringes on the blankets in bare feet under the shade of the RV, and his beaming face defied our desire to barter. At 6000 pesos (thirty dollars each) it seemed like such a deal.

One exception to all the trinkets and trash that particularly appealed to us was the metal work and pottery. The artists of the Baja are masters of colorful plates and dinnerware, all of which were too heavy for the RV, but we did purchase a few small metal wall hangings.

BAJA DIRT

With the lack of paved roads and extremely dry climate, the Baja can be dusty but bearable. But when it rains, the peninsula becomes a slippery mud bath and the mud sticks to everything. One of the things that makes living in a 400 square foot RV possible is Sara’s exceptional housecleaning skills. What most people clean every week, Sara cleans daily, and all counters are mess free before bedtime. Clothes and linen washing is planned and performed with the type of precision that would put the National Marine Drill Team to shame. Sara does not do dirt!!! Thank goodness the weather cooperated and we experienced wet weather only three days during our month long visit. The RV itself, as all the rigs in our caravan, however, wore their of coat “Baja dirt” for most of the trip.

CONTROL OF THE PEOPLE

The central government in Mexico City has particular reason to fear political unrest in the Baja. Considered by many to be the “last frontier” of Mexico, farm workers have in recent years become more and more organized. Many of the issues revolve around low wages, poor working conditions and in particular, disputed land ownership. The recent bombing of a government controlled oil pipe line on the Mainland has added to the Calderón administration’s fear of a popular uprising.

In an effort to keep the people happy, the government makes sure that everyone can do three things at relatively low cost: feed the family, get drunk and drive a car, the last two being a particularly deadly combination. The first is accomplished by controlling the cost of tortillas, “the manna of Mexico”. Although prices have risen recently, a kilo of tortillas (2.5 lbs) is still less than 8.5 pesos or 77 cents US. That still can represent over a third of the monthly food budget of a typical family. With the abundance of cheap fruit and vegetables, somehow, even the poorest of the poor survive. Considering that the average farm worker is paid 80 pesos ($8 US) for a long day of labor in the fields, is it any wonder that most would risk death or deportation to sneak across the border to work at McDonalds where they can earn more than that in an hour?

The ability to find cheap alcohol in the Baja is probably only surpassed in the US. The most ubiquitous symbol in Baja California is undoubtedly that of Tecate Beer, the "cerveza" of the peninsula and a source of pride to Baja California people. The familiar red and gold symbol with a stylized eagle is seemingly everywhere: huge signs above bars, restaurants and markets where the beer is sold. The Baja culture is very much a drinking culture. After a hard day at work, it is normal to end the day by drinking. At social events - celebrations, spending time with family, visiting friends - it is commonplace to drink, for the men in particular. Drinking alcohol starts early for most male Hispanics, sometimes as early as age 12. Drinking alcohol is seen as a “rite of passage” to becoming a man. Sound familiar? And for a few pesos, locals can get a bootlegged type of potent tequila called pecho amarillo. The authorities generally look the other way at these underground sales as long as the drink is not offered for sale to tourists.

Finally, with fuel prices controlled by the Mexican government, anyone that can “put a car together” can afford to drive. And the rural residents of the Baja are master reconstructors. Literally thousands of cheap, worn out autos are transported from the States to the Baja each year where they are driven into exhaustion, only to be resurrected by finding parts from other vehicles. A Chevrolet becomes a “Chevoforodogijeepie” before being reduced to a mass of mangled metal.

With the Bajan’s love for speed, alcohol, cheap gas, practically no traffic enforcement and a non existent licensing procedure, the reduction process does not take very long. The ever present roadside memorials to the dead drivers of the Baja seem to out number the cacti. As you drive down Highway 1, you will see abandoned vehicles whose fate included tire removal, followed by engine and chassis stripping. Then these relics of past wrecks were finally rolled over on their backs to remove the under parts until they look like some unfortunate sea turtle picked clean by the buzzards from above. The metal carcasses that remain from these “hybrids” are then stacked to the sky in auto graveyards all over the Baja before they are crushed and sent back to the States for recycling.

AN ATV ADVENTURE

One of the many joys of the RVing life style is trying new and different life experiences. Each location you visit offers different attractions whether in the out of doors, sporting activities, historical monuments, local landmarks or the sampling of regional cuisine. Sara and I have tended to avoid the crowds of the big cities in our RVing adventures, favoring instead the natural world of woods, seashores, mountains and desert. We have often seen people traveling on all terrain vehicles (ATVs) and wondered what could be the appeal of blasting around in the wilderness on these over sized cycles. At one of our stops on the way down the Baja, we were offered an opportunity to try ATVing for the first time. The desert is probably the one environ that is impacted the least by this rapidly growing sport as it is generally confined to washes. A desert wash is a dry river bed that has been eroded through landscape by a sudden flood. There is little vegetation and as long as the ATVer sticks to the wash, little further erosion is created. We decided to give it a try and have to admit it was fun.

We were given a crash course (not a comforting way to describe it) on ATV shifting patterns and general safety rules. Then we were equipped with helmets, eye protection and clean kerchiefs to cover our noses and mouths. During our entire three hour ride we would have experienced guides showing us the way and helping with any vehicle problems.

With Sara’s arms circling my ample waist and whispering the refrain of Neil Young’s famous song:
Motorcycle Mamma,
Won't you lay your big spike down
Motorcycle Mama
Won't you lay your big spike down
I always get in trouble when you bring it round
Motorcycle Mama
Won't you lay it down.

we headed up the wash. It soon became apparent why we were given goggles and cloth masks as the dust and dry air blew by. Without them, it was almost impossible to breathe or see. We followed the group up the wash for over 45 minutes, occasionally crossing a small stream with unusually clear and cold water. At the end of the wash, we came to a tall dam with a waterfall cascading over the edge into a series of pools. The landscape turned from desert brown to jungle green with huge groves of palm and bamboo trees on both sides of the wash. What an invitation to dip. Several ATVers stripped to their shorts and played in the cool and inviting waters. After a short lunch of sandwiches and drinks provided by the ATV guides, we boarded our buggies and headed home. It was a great adventure and a must for any Baja visitor. There are ATV outfitters all along the peninsula.

A SPECIAL GIFT

When traveling in another country, particularly one where you don’t speak or understand the native tongue, the visitor cannot help but wonder what the locals think of you and your presence.

Not seeing a single RV parked in the yard of a native Bajian on the entire trip added to the intrigue. As we drove through countless small villages along Highway 1 with huge late model trucks with metal boxes trailing behind, most of which cost more than many locals would earn in a lifetime, what were the locals thinking? Did they hate us “Gringos”? One hint of their feelings was innocently revealed in an encounter at a roadside fish taco stand somewhere in central Baja. I happened to be wearing a T-shirt that seems to return to my shirt drawer no matter how many times I try to discard it; possibly due to fondness for it by the clothes washer, Sara. It was given to me by a teaching colleague upon my retirement and is emblazed with the words, I AM RETIRED BUT I WORK PART TIME AS A PAIN IN THE ASS. As I entered the taco stand, I was greeted with a burst of laughter from one of four, deeply tanned men, three of whom were in large, white cowboy hats. The hatless man had read my T-shirt and was in stitches. He asked me in English if he could translate the words on the shirt to his friends and I said, “Sure.” He did and laughter exploded, filling the stand almost to the point of making it shake. One toothless hombre laughed so hard tears were running down his wrinkled brown face. Finally, when the unexpected entertainment subsided, I asked the nature of their business. The English speaking man explained he was a stone buyer and he was finalizing a contract between one of the men who was a rich landowner in the area, the others his field hands. There were several beautiful white square construction stones on the table. I then asked if the men had children and the question was translated. Yes, they all had children at home. I asked them to wait for a moment and went back to the RV and retrieved four packages of pencils and four writing tablets. Back at the taco stand, I presented these simple gifts and asked that it be translated that they were for their children. Smiles broke out again and I was greeted with a chorus of gracias. As I left the stone buyer called me back and explained that they had a gift for me, and I was to hold out my hand. The gift was placed in my palm and I looked down. I was asked, “How old are you?” I said 62. Then I was asked, “How old do you think the gift is? And I responded. “I have no idea.” The answer was, “10 times 10 your age. It is from the ancient ones.” Then it was explained that it was illegal for the item to be sold but could be given as a gift, but it was still illegal for a foreigner like me to have it. “Hide it well,” he said and smiled. I cannot tell the exact nature of the gift so as to protect the gift giver, but I can say that it was pointed, made of stone and will forever be cherished. Here I was, a Gringo, being given something very important by a man who could have afforded to buy a truckload of pencils and tablets.

I was determined to get the gift through the rest of the military check points if I had to swallow it, a method of trickery suggested by one of my fellow Rvers in the caravan and not accompanied by an offer to help in retrieval. I later remember thinking, as ridiculous as it seems, What effect would showering the Middle East with pencils and notebooks instead of bullets and bombs have on our present foreign policy.

THE BAJA SUNRISES AND SUNSETS

Sara and I have had, over the past three years, the privilege of visiting all 48 of the lower states and all of the provinces of Canada including New Found land and Labrador. We have viewed and photographed hundreds of sunrises and sunsets; from the top of Cadillac Mountain in Arcadia National Park in Maine to the shores of Vancouver Island in British Columbia, from Key West, Florida at it’s famous Sunset Festival to dawn over Lake Erie, and we have never, ever seen sunrises and sunsets like those on the Baja. Maybe it is the lack of city lights or the clean, crisp desert air but words cannot do justice. So we end our Baja adventure with a poem from an author unknown who tries with words and we will try with a few closing photos.


THE BEAUTY OF A SUNRISE & SUNSET
-author unknown

The beauty of a sunrise or sunset tis a splendor to behold,
Sometimes the sky’s afire with the tints of red and gold.

Then other times its gentle, like a lover’s soft embrace,
Enthralling us in grandeur to be blessed with such a place.

How special are these moments that nature lets us see,
Moments where our spirits will struggle to be free.

These moments, when they find us, bring contented inner peace,
Moments that we purge ourselves and give our souls release.

We see how small we really are next to nature’s majestic age
It grants us humbling moments when pondering this awesome stage.

This is a union, as day couples with the night
A dance of perfect harmony, the joining of darkness with the light.
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Embrace the feeling within in your heart when nature opens the door
For if you do you will find you are granted so much more.

As Mother Earth prepares to rise or slumber, it’s enough to make one pray,
For the gift of seeing these miracles again another day.