From Miami we flew to Guatemala City, the jumping off point for our five months in Latin America. Guate has a pretty bad reputation so we decided to skip exploring this sprawling capital city and head straight for nearby Antigua; apparently a near-universal decision for arriving tourists.
Volcanos abound
Antigua was one of the original colonial capitals of Guatemala, but it was semi-abandoned after a bad earthquake in the 1700′s and the capital shifted to it’s present day location. These days it’s the hub of Guatemala’s tourism. An easy one hour taxi ride straight from the airport (about $20 us) dropped us off at Antigua’s central park, a pretty plaza filled with trees, flowers, strolling Guatemaltecos and teenagers making out on park benches. Not to mention more than a few tourists fending off shoeshine boys and textile vendors.
Arroz con leche, delicious sugary gloppy rice milk for about 35 cents US.
We walked around a while trying to find a cheap hotel, but ended up settling for an overpriced but decent place near the market for about $20 us a night. Next it was time to explore a bit and check out the city. Antigua feels small. Most of the streets are cobblestone (it was here that I saw the world’s most determined and vibration resistant roller-blader; tip of the hat to your sir) and the place oozes so much colonial charm you have to wash it off your shirt afterwards.
It’s a place filled with “Artist’s light,” wafting woodsmoke, a perfect climate, friendly colorfully dressed locals and beautiful old architecture, with a soundtrack of roosters and churchbells. A little Disney. Still lots of fun, although a bit expensive and filled with classy restaurants and bars that we couldn’t afford; the town is definitely gentrified in the tourist zone. We only stayed a couple nights and are looking forward to going back to explore more.
Our ride out of town; took me right back to being 10 years old on the way to school but the seats aren't so roomy these days
To kick off our next big trip we arranged to stopover in Miami for a week to visit my (Andy’s) grandparents. Bill and Sallie spend their winters these days on Florida’s balmy gulf coast near the town of Fort Myers, basking in constant sunshine and feeling ever so sorry for everyone up in the snowy, rainy north. They retired early and hit the road, spending the next decade or so living full time in their apartment-like fifth wheel trailer and following the sun, touring through most of the United States and fulfilling their wanderlust. They’re role models.
Sallie has kept a very active and well-followed blog for years filled with pictures and tales of their exploits; check it out at fulltime-life.com
A couple years ago they purchased their current “park model” trailer on a canal branching off the Caloosahatchee river, complete with a private dock for their 24ft boat, which they’ve taken as far as Florida’s Atlantic coast on the other side of the peninsula. The boat also functions as a guest cottage; we slept very comfortably aboard during our visit.
From Miami we rented a car and drove 2.5 hours or so to Fort Myers and proceeded to have a very enjoyable five days visiting. Days were filled with wine-tasting, kayaking, manatee spotting, sundowners on the canal and checking out some local restaurants. Bill and Sallie are great hosts and we had a fantastic time, with the highlight probably being a trip out on the river in their boat. It was beautiful and we went through a lock at one point, a fun new experience for us.
We headed back to Miami the day before we flew out, and on the way we stopped at a couple wildlife viewing spots and were able to see alligators, which were pretty cool and bigger than we were expecting. We stayed at a hotel in the center of South Beach, Miami, and walked around a lot, getting good drinks and eating some Cuban food. It’s a fun area, right on the beach and filled with tons of energy even on a weeknight, and most of the buildings are architecturally interesting with their Art-Deco style.
We liked Florida a lot; I don’t think I’d ever realized just how nice the weather really is down there in the wintertime- constant sun and eighty degree days… All in all a wonderful prelude to the next phase of our trip: Guatemala!
As Andy mentioned in the previous post we are back at Mohonk Mountain house for the summer and fall seasons this year working in the dining room and living in the on-site dorms. The resort is on the Shawangunk mountain range with amazing views of the Catskill range just northwest of us and we like to spend some of our free time hiking around the nearby area.
This is Mohonk Lake. Skytop tower is the structure on the ridge and the Mountain House is on the left side of the photo.
Zoomed in on the resort, you can also see the swimming dock.
This is the swimming beach which just closed for the fall season.
A horse drawn carriage coming through the Granary where the guests have lobster bakes and barbeque lunches in the summer.
The tennis courts
A view from one of the large porches.
Free boat and kayak rentals.
We live on the bottom floor of this dorm building.
The horse corral across the road from our dorm.
The barn museum which has things accumulated from the 142 years this resort has been open.
We’re working as servers right now at an upscale restaurant in NY state. The other night a woman ordered a steak “pink,” and after I asked her a couple questions to clarify exactly what she wanted, she asked me a rather startling question of her own:
“Are you autistic?”
“I beg your pardon?” I asked, thinking I’d misheard.
“Are you autistic?”
Silence. A lot of possibilities raced quickly through my head. I can come across as standoffish sometimes, and have been occasionally known to be a little socially awkward, but this… I’d actually thought I’d had a nice rapport going with this table. Then I said something I had never really expected to say, ever:
“No. I’m not autistic,” in a slow, strained and firm voice. I can’t even imagine what my facial expression must have been.
The woman’s jaw dropped. “No, no! Awrrrtistic, artistic!” She had a thick Boston accent.
She motioned toward the pen I was using to write her order down. “I just saw that you were left handed, and…” She looked mortified, and then everyone started laughing. I was just glad that I didn’t actually have the most insanely mean customer in the world after all.
I told the table, “I was thinking, jeez, at least give me Asperger’s syndrome.”
“and M’am,” I said, holding up my pen: “I’m right-handed.”
Looking out at Carmen (on the left) and Danzante (on the right, in the back), photo taken from the highway
The Loreto Marine Park contains a string of beautiful islands that offer wonderful conditions for kayaking and camping. In May of 2011 we spent 8 days paddling around two of those islands, Islas Carmen and Danzante. This was the third and final portion of a larger kayaking trip in which we’d paddled from Mulege to La Paz, and then paddled Isla Espiritu Santo. With some extra time after those two legs, we decided to drive back north to the Loreto area and paddle the 60 or so miles around Isla Carmen.
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We ended up leaving our car at a family’s house in Juncalito, a small beach community just south of Loreto and a very convenient launching point for Carmen. We took our time assembling our trusty folding Feathercraft K2 kayak (a wonderful boat that is our most valuable asset- literally, it’s worth twice as much as our car), and finally shoved off in the early afternoon. Paddling south out of Juncalito’s bay was familiar ground; we’d covered this stretch a month earlier during our paddle to La Paz. But just before Puerto Escondido we turned left and made the short crossing out to Isla Danzante, new territory for us.
We called it a day and set up camp on a beach in Honeymoon Bay, a popular yacht anchorage. We soon regretted our decision to camp here when a nearby sailboat started up an obnoxious generator and ran it for hours; get some solar panels!
The next morning we woke up and started packing, and soon enough the sailboat’s generator started up again. Then the boat’s occupants got in their tender and motored (of course) off to visit another boat across the bay, leaving their generator running! I resent this kind of noise pollution in the wilderness, and seriously considered paddling out and emptying our toilet in their cockpit, but instead we sped up our packing and paddled off, vowing to never again camp in an anchorage if we could avoid it.
We tied our sheets to the top of the tent to help block the sun; it was May and starting to get hot during the day.
We made the short crossing to the southern end of Isla Carmen and proceeded north up the west side of the Island. Conditions were wonderful, with calm and amazingly clear water. We saw two separate sea turtles that dove underwater as we approached, but the water visibility was so good that we could see them swimming under our boat. Later we saw a couple Humpback whales that let us approach within 100 feet, and as they swam away they repeatedly showed their flukes, and then one of them breached and completely left the water! I was trolling with my handline and caught some sort of elongate fish, but when I gutted it the flesh was so mushy and unattractively gray that I threw it to the seagulls.
Partway through the next day we saw another humpback, and while we were waiting to see if it would resurface we were surprised by a pod of about thirty dolphins. They swam right up to us and suddenly we had dolphins on all sides-and under- our kayak! They passed us and we paddled after them, once again entering the middle of the pod where we all kept pace with each other. It was really incredible, paddling right in a pod of dolphins, and we continued on like this for miles! They’d let out their puffs of breath each time they surfaced, we’d watch them swimming under our kayak and occasionally jumping out of the water, and it was just a wonderful experience that lasted for well over an hour and left us with smiles plastered to our faces.
Dolphins!
We camped that night in a beautiful and protected cove, and as we unloaded the boat we were treated to one last acrobatic show as the dolphins swam by again, headed in the opposite direction now. Snorkeling that afternoon I saw two beautiful hawkfish and wished that spearfishing was allowed in the Marine Park. In the evening we ate our dinner as the water’s edge as the sun went down, and watched a dozen pelicans dive endlessly for fish in the shallow waters only a few feet from us. After it got dark a moray eel came to feed at the edge of the water, which was gently surging in and out from the cove. A couple times he was left high and dry wriggling on the beach for a few seconds as the water surged out. A magical day.
a great camp
We only paddled a few miles the next day, because we came upon a wonderful looking camp that was just too nice to pass by. It was a rocky beach with some interesting rock formations and an incredible view, and we sat and read and watched the dolphins swim by, listening to the endless slapping sound of the many jumping rays as they belly flopped back into the water.
Carmen looking a little ominous
Another shortish paddle the following day took us past some pretty rocky scenery and brought us to Playa Salinas, a beautiful sweeping white sand beach that holds a mostly abandoned salt mining works at one end. We’d seen pictures of this spot and wanted to camp here despite it’s sandy nature (sand is a pain to camp on, it gets into everything). It was definitely beautiful, but it was pretty windy and we had to hide behind the tent from the driving sand and had trouble keeping our shade tarp up; not the most comfortable day.
Playa Salinas
It was pretty windy the next morning so we tried sailing, but it was just a little too exciting after a while. Even after the sail was down the tailwind pushed us along at a fast pace. We were a couple miles off shore and before we knew it we realized that we’d passed by a sea cave that we’d been looking forward to seeing. Camp that day was a pretty spot set back in some thorny trees, and we spent the afternoon reading in a bit of a heat stupor. It was getting pretty hot during the days, and we could feel the trip coming to a close.
As we rounded the southern tip of Carmen we camp across some kayakers on a day trip (probably from a yacht) wearing skimpy bathing suits and bikinis. We looked at each other, with our giant hats and long sleeves and pants, and laughed about our different relationships with the sun. At this point we’d made it around Carmen, and crossed back to Isla Danzante. It’s a small island so we decided to paddle around it too, counterclockwise down the east side and back up the west. It’s a pretty island with dramatic, rocky topography. Toward the end of the day we were getting pretty tired, but the last two spots that we’d planned as possible campsites were both occupied by separate groups of independent kayakers; we hadn’t seen any on the whole trip, and now here were a bunch of them, in our way! But we found a nice little pocket beach and enjoyed our last evening of kayak camping for the trip, staring out at the beautiful view of Isla Carmen.
Sunrise on our final day of kayaking
We got up early the last morning and took in a wonderful sunrise, contemplating being finished with a long and wonderful kayak trip. From our camp it was a short paddle back to Juncalito and our car, where we folded the kayak and packed all our gear and started off on the long drive back to Oregon. We tallied it up and realized that we’d been on the water for a total of 4o days, a trip of biblical proportions.
Isla Espiritu Santo is a beautiful, medium-sized island just north of La Paz. We spent nine days paddling around in April of 2011, from 4/20 to 4/28. It’s a magical place for kayaking and exploring, complete with crystal clear tropical turquoise water, great snorkeling and spearfishing, wonderful camping, fantastic rock formations and arches to paddle through, lots of sea life, and the list just keeps going…
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Unfortunately these attributes are not exactly a secret and it’s a very accessible place with La Paz so close, so the island can see a of visitors. It can get especially crowded around Semana Santa, Mexico’s Easter week celebration in April, which of course was right when we visited. We spent nine lazy days circumnavigating the island in our folding Feathercraft K2 kayak, and there was a lot of boat traffic, with a very steady stream of pangas buzzing by every day shuttling day visitors out to the sea lion colonies and beaches. There were also many sailboats and a surprising number of giant luxury motor yachts, and even a few other kayakers. That said, even with all the traffic for the most part we found our preferred campsites empty each day, especially the smaller non-sandy ones that we generally prefer.
Our kind of camp
You’re required to have island permits for visiting Espiritu Santo, available from any outfitter in La Paz for $5 per person per day, but the better alternative for anyone going for more than a few days is a yearly pass they call a Passport. It’s good for most of the islands in the Sea of Cortez, as well as Cabo Pulmo, and only costs 260 pesos per person, a real bargain. I did have to track down the SEMARNAT office (the governing agency, located on Abasolo in La Paz out towards the Walmart) to purchase the passes, but it wasn’t too difficult and saved us a lot of money. We were checked for passes while on the island. You’re also required to have a portable toilet, which I made out of some PVC pipe; the rangers never asked to see our toilet, but it’s good practice to dump your poop out to sea especially in such a frequently visited place.
Espiritu Santo was actually part two of an extended kayak journey for us. We’d spent 22 days kayaking from Mulege to La Paz, and then rested for five days in La Paz where we had some reasonably priced dental work done, stocked up on food and water, and consumed way too much tequila and tacos in celebration of being in civilization again. Now with a temporary crown over a formerly cracked molar, I drove us out to Playa Tecolote where we set up our kayak and did a final check of our gear and supplies. We paid one of the beach restaurants about $30 usd to watch our car, and early the next afternoon we set off on the 5 mile crossing. We would have started sooner in the morning but this area has a distinct wind pattern known as Corumuels, strong southerlies that start up at night and usually die off by the end of the morning.
Getting ready to cross from Tecolote to Epiritu Santo, in the background
After the southerly died down we had calm conditions and an easy crossing that took us a bit less than 1.5 hours. About halfway across a whale surfaced pretty close to us, and we could hear it singing, which is a pretty amazing experience. When we reached the southern tip of the island we were greeted by a school of big 2-3ft roosterfish patrolling for food, their distinctive dorsal fins often above the water. I trolled for a while with my handline and was probably lucky not to get a bite; I probably would have ended up with a dislocated shoulder!
We paddled a bit further up the west side of the Island (we were doing a clockwise circumnavigation) and found a decent beach to camp on inside one of the many fjord-like bays that the island is famous for. We cooked dinner watching the light change on some pretty pink cliffs near our camp and were visited by some wild goats nibbling at the shrubbery on the steep hill above us.
cookin'
The next morning the Coromuels were up again but we were feeling antsy and headed out early anyway, finding some pretty big waves outside of our little bay. Within a couple hours the wind had died and the water was totally calm again. There were a lot of motor boats around, from buzzing pangas to 20 million dollar luxury yachts, and it had me feeling a little irritable. We’d been traveling under our own muscle power for so long in our unobtrusive little boat, totally silent and non-polluting, and here we barely even saw a sailboat that wasn’t motoring. There were jet skiers pulling inner tubes! The noise pollution was getting to me. But… it was the highest of high seasons so we had to expect company, and as far as the scenery went this was the best we’d seen yet. The water was so clear, and varied between an amazing number of shades of blue. We found a great camp in a tiny inlet, and fended off the ringtail cat that had obviously found some meals at people’s camps in the past. We secured our food in dry bags but forgot about a bag of tortillas that we’d left on a boulder, and he stole the whole bag! That night when we’d shine our lights around camp we’d always see a few sets of eyes glowing hungrily, hoping for more.
Ringtail cat / thief in the night
The next day we took a layover day, getting in some good reading in the shade and doing some snorkeling from our camp. We took a day paddle around a small nearby islet called Isla Ballena, which is a big bird nesting site and smelled terrible. We saw baby pelicans on the clifftops, gangly white little things. That evening a couple hawks hung out on the cliffs near us, and must have kept the ringtails away, although we heard lots of rustling around that night while we were in our tent.
I love taking pictures of my kayak
We slept in the next morning to allow the usual winds to die down, and then made our way north, exploring each cove we came to. We passed a couple semi-permanent looking outfitter’s camps situated on some incredibly beautiful white sand beaches. They’re actually not that great to camp on, as sand gets into everything and becomes a real pain, so we were fine with leaving them to the people taking tours.
Beautiful arch we paddled through
In one bay we heard some big tell-tale whooshing sounds and immediately looked around for a whale, who was a fair ways off and soon went underwater. A couple minutes later though it surfaced less than 50 feet from us, and slowly swam along as we kept pace beside it. It was an incredible encounter and went on for minutes, and we could hear its beautiful whale song with amazing clarity. Unfortunately a 50′ motor yacht noticed the whale and drove straight for it from about a quarter mile away. They approached too close and never cut their engines and the loud idling ruined any chance of hearing the whale any more and it soon disappeared under the water. We paddled a ways off hoping to guess where it might surface, and the boat followed us! I guess they thought we had some inside information. Did I mention how I was feeling irritable about motors? At this point I was having some serious Monkey Wrench Gang style sabotage fantasies.
Paddling along we saw some sea lions playing, and in another bay we had our best sea turtle encounter yet: a larger turtle saw us coming, and rather than instantly diving as normal he watched us approach, and then went under and resurfaced at least five different times. He seemed just as curious about us as we were about him! When we paddled right up to him he lazily went under, but the water was so clear we could still easily see him under our boat, staring up at us. We like turtles.
I love my pole spear!
That evening we camped in a nice little cove backing up to an arroyo (canyon), and did some hiking and snorkeling. I speared a delicious little Mexican Hogfish, and got my heart rate up a bit when I was bluff charged by a big Moray eel. Later that night while I was brushing my teeth at the water’s edge I noticed a Moray coming right up to the beach feeding; he was in water so shallow he was only half submersed.
The next morning we left camp set up and paddled about four miles north to Los Islotes, a pair of islets just off the north tip of Espiritu Santo and home of a famous sea lion colony. It’s a big tourist attraction because people here swim with the sea lions! You’re not allowed to land on the island so we tied our kayak up a free mooring ball alongside some pangas, and gathered our courage to actually enter the water. Those sea lions are big… When we finally got in it was pretty cool, with the lobos swimming and diving all around us. They’re very graceful and fast underwater, and they seem to enjoy messing with people a bit, doing things like swimming straight at you and veering off at the last second. It was really fun, and there were a surprising number of fish around to watch also. When we finally left the place was getting pretty busy with panga loads of day visitors, and somebody warned us that three orcas had been spotted in the area. I was happy that I hadn’t known that while I was in the water with some of the orca’s favorite food.
Snorkeling from our kayak at the sea lion colony
The next morning we read in a shade cave until the winds had calmed down, then headed back north to a popular camping spot called El Embudo. We set up camp and went for a hike up the arroyo to a dry lake bed that fills up during the summer rains, then hung out in camp and relaxed. There was a steady stream of people landing at the beach, and we had a conversation with a panga captain about Morays, and how you had to be careful with them especially with blood in the water, which tended to make them aggressive and sometimes bite. Not two hours later I speared my best fish of the trip, a nice flag cabrilla, and turned around to see another big moray not six feet behind me! All was fine though, and the fish was delicious.
flag cabrilla, the best fish I speared
The next day brought more of the same, lots of snorkeling and reading, playing cards, and other wonderful forms of tropical relaxation. I speared another cabrilla, and was really enjoying using my pole spear. Some park rangers came by and checked our island permits, and a tourist gave us an icy cold Pacifico!
Shade is a fine thing out there in the desert
The next morning a half-dead squid had washed into a rocky area, and soon enough a Moray came and ate off his tentacles! And so the eel adventures continued. We rounded the tip of the island fighting some strong currents and used up a ton of energy paddling out toward what we thought were Orcas but turned out to be dolphins. Distance and size can be tough to judge out in that clear desert air.
Our camp at El Embudo
Dry lake bed
The intrepid couple
Heading south along the east side of the Island the topography became a lot more rugged and we saw a lot less people. There aren’t a bunch of bays like on the west side and in general it isn’t so spectacularly beautiful, so this side of the island sees much less traffic. We ended up paddling about fifteen miles all the way to Playa Bonanza, a several mile long white sand beach where we camped and entertained ourselves by messing with the plentiful hermit crabs.
Playa Bonanza hermit crabs, arranged as art installation
The following day we packed up and rounded the northern tip of the island, completing our lazy circumnavigation in nine days. The winds were calm so we made the crossing with ease, pulling into Playa Tecolote where we found the car extremely dusty but otherwise unharmed. We drank a celebratory beer while we broke the kayak down into its duffel bags, then headed into La Paz for a couple more days in the city.
This recently dead ray washed up at Playa Tecolote shortly after we landed. A few minutes after this picture was taken somebody chopped off the wings (delicious in burritos with machaca, apparently) and the carcass was buried in about two inches of sand.
Still to come: circumnavigating Isla Carmen, near Loreto.
The Sea of Cortez is like a great big wilderness tripping Disneyland: it’s beautiful, incredibly fun, almost seems like it was designed for kayaking, and every now and then the ride malfunctions and someone gets killed. It’s almost perfect.
I’ve been planning a big kayak trip here for a long time, and this last March the stars finally aligned and Denae and I found ourselves standing on the shores of Bahia Concepcion (near Mulege), assembling our foldable Feathercraft K2 kayak and preparing to paddle 200 or so miles to the city of La Paz. We’d then take a break in the city before circumnavigating Isla Espiritu Santo, and then drive back to the Loreto area and paddle around Isla Carmen.
To do a trip like this independently requires a lot of logistical planning. We drove down from Oregon, which is a topic in itself that I won’t really get into. You need seaworthy boats and, more importantly, need to have the skills involved with kayaking in potentially dangerous waters. The Sea of Cortez can vary from flat as a pond to large, steep breaking waves and dangerous winds in a disconcertingly short amount of time. The gear list of kayaking equipment, rescue gear, spare parts and repair kits, camping gear, navigational aids, food, etc, seems to stretch on forever. We carried 18 gallons of water (that’s about 150 pounds!) at a time to make it between water sources in this very dry region.
All that said, if you have the skills and equipment, you should go. And if you don’t feel comfortable doing it independently you should start saving your pennies and sign up for a guided trip with one of the many outfitters here. Kayaking Baja was absolutely one of the best trips I’ve ever been on.
Our home at Playa Cocos, Bahia Concepcion
We chose to set out from a beach in Bahia Concepcion called Playa Cocos, a place we’d camped out on for a while on a previous trip. We went through our gear at a leisurely pace, spent some time wandering around nearby Mulege and buying last minute provisions, swam and enjoyed ourselves, and before we knew it four nights had gone by living in our little palapa hut. Fun, but the sea was calling our names, so Denae watched our gear while I drove to Loreto and parked our car in an RV park (they charged me $3 usd/day to watch it). We had the second half of our food and fuel in the car for when we reached Loreto. I then took the bus back towards Mulege and had them drop me off at Playa Cocos. The next morning we finally set off.
The first leg of the trip was from Bahia Concepcion to the town of Loreto, about 70 miles to the south. Like most people we chose to paddle north to south to match the prevailing winds. We were both fairly out of shape so we allotted plenty of time and rest days to make it to Loreto, hoping to ease our bodies into the practice of paddling for anywhere from three to ten hours a day.
Our first night's camp. Cobble might not be as scenic as sand, but it's much more comfortale for camping. Sand gets into everything!
We managed to stick to our planned 7am departure time, and paddling out into the bay we could hardly believe we were finally doing it. It was a beautiful morning and we lingered for a while in the middle of the several mile crossing of the bay, floating in the calm water and taking in the scenery. By the time we started rounding the peninsula and heading south a pretty strong headwind had sprung up, and it was looking to be a long haul to our night’s camp. Our spirits and pace were slowly fading when a pod of dolphins swam by, and the excitement powered us through.
I love cookin' on campfires...
The wind kept building that evening and the next morning we woke to large breaking waves and a sea of nasty looking whitecaps… layover day! We spent the day off reading, playing cribbage and hiking around a bit. The next day the wind had mostly died but the seas were still up, and we had an exciting launch powering through the breaking waves. Out in the open water the swells were big enough that we could only see water when we were inside the troughs, but nothing was breaking away from shore so it was easy paddling, if a little nerve-wracking.
We quickly fell into a routine. Get up just as the light was filtering in, pack up camp and eat our breakfast of granola, water and homemade instant breakfast mix (more delicious than it might sound). We’d pile up our load of drybags near the water, carry the kayak to the water and shoehorn everything in. Sunscreen on our face, neck and hands, clothing over everything else, and we’d push off. It always took at least an hour.
Bahia Pulpito, described in our 3 year old guidebook as "out there" in a wilderness sense. We found a big house, airstrip and kids on an atv. Enjoy wilderness while you can folks!
The first couple hours of paddling was usually my favorite part of the day. It would be nice and cool, the winds weren’t usually up yet and the water calm, and the ache in my shoulders wouldn’t yet be distracting from the scenery. And that scenery was spectacular: multicolored cliffs leading straight into the sea, jagged mountains inland, water stretching off to the horizon… We saw lots of wildlife almost every day, from paddling through swarms of diving pelicans and osprey and other sea birds, to sneaking up on sea turtles that would dive and hide as soon as they saw us. Pods of dolphins became almost routine, and we even saw some far off blue whales, identified by their GIANT spouts of water that seemed to hang in the air for minutes, and by the raising of their flukes which apparently distinguishes them from fin whales, the other local plus-sized leviathan.
scenery on a hike from Bahia San Juanico
After our day’s paddle we’d try to find a nice protected landing and campsite, and with the boat still in the water we’d unload our many dry bags and water bladders, then haul the boat up away from the water and tie it up. Shade would then be the priority, hopefully natural in the form of a properly oriented cliff or cave or (very occasionally) tree, and if not we’d set up our shade tarp. We’d set up the tent and secure everything in case of strong winds, and finally have some time to relax or go snorkeling.
Bahia San Juanico, with Punta Pulpito to the north
Amazingly enough, the hours spent packing, loading and unpacking every day didn’t really get old. It was all part of the process, and the feeling of independence we had from carrying everything we needed inside our kayak was wonderful. Our bodies adapted quickly to their new habits, and we found ourselves becoming leaner and harder and able to paddle much further much easier. It’s a simple life out there, and we loved it.
We reached Loreto 11 days after leaving Bahia Concepcion. Only 7 of those days were actually spent paddling, and that had been at a fairly leisurely pace. We took out at a beach next to the town marina, and I ran and picked up the car where I’d left it at the El Moro RV park, and we shuttled the boat and gear back there using the car. El Moro was a convenient place to park and was right downtown, but camping there was like camping in, well, a parking lot. Not many people seem to tent camp in Baja.
The boat folds down into a couple big duffle bags. Good thing, I don't think the roof racks could handle driving more than the 4 blocks we went after taking this photo.
We camped two nights in Loreto, catching up on our online news and emails, eating lots of tacos and enjoying some cold beers. We replenished our food supplies and water, and were quickly ready to set off again. Loreto is a nice little town, but a little touristy for us and frankly doesn’t compare to the wilderness experience, at least in our opinion. We got up before dark to shuttle everything back to the marina beach, and I re-parked the car at the RV park. Once again we were off!
leaving Loreto
The following are excerpts from the update email Denae sent out after we reached La Paz:
This portion of the trip had more bountiful visible wildlife than the Mulege to Loreto stretch. We paddled out one morning to be greeted by a pod of dolphins surrounding our boat while a school of rays were belly flopping close by our side. If you´ve ever seen rays in the water you know what graceful swimmers they are and may imagine that when they jump out of the water it´s with the same Olympian grace that they swim. Not so, the rays actually look more like a fat kid falling off a diving board than anything resembling graceful. They hit the water with a belly flop and a loud smack after flapping their wings frantically and uselessly; almost as if they want to leave their world of water and can´t.
Jumping rays became a several-times-a-day sight once south of Agua Verde. Once a ray landed close enough to splash us.
Our friends the dolphins were also frequent visitors.
This video is footage of rays jumping, dolphins, some stormy waters and some snorkeling with sea lions we later did off Espiritu Santo island:
Another especially fun day we spent the morning watching whale spouts off in the distance near Isla San Jose. As we neared camp I saw a whale spout off of a nearby point and didn´t think much of it as we pulled the boat onshore and took out our snacks preparing to relax. All of a sudden the whale appeared 30 feet offshore slowly arching its back showing us that it was a Finn whale. Andy, who was farther away from the water than me, yelled loudly and stared sprinting towards me while I jumped up and down pointing at the water dumbfounded. We tossed our partially eaten Clif Bars into the boat and quickly shoved it back out to sea. We tried following the whale around the bay and, although it never got that close to us again, we fell silent listening to the high pitched sucking noise it made when it took a breath and let out a few moans. Andy did manage to whisper to me, “Do you think you could pass me that Clif Bar?”
On really calm days the water would sometimes merge with the sky, creating this endless horizon
I forgot to bleed air out of our sponsons one afternoon, and the heat from the sun burst one of the seams. We didn't notice until after dark, which lead to this repair scene. It takes a while to take apart and assemble the boat, and I was tired and not happy.
We paddled into another bay to be greeted by a pod of especially energetic dolphins leaping clear of the water three at a time and pulling stunts worthy of Sea World, we paddled over a school of yellow tail that were so dense the tornado of fish below us turned the water black, we saw jelly fish, we paddled next to a 6 foot shark slowly passing us by just below the waters surface leaving a sinister feeling in its wake (I am told maybe it was a Nurse Shark?), and we saw too many aquarium fish to count. Packing up our desert camp one morning I was putting on my paddle skirt when I saw a 1.5″ yellow scorpion trying to work his way towards me from the spot where my skirt was laying previously. I´d never seen a scorpion before and although it was smaller than ones I had seen on nature programs I could tell his stinger would still pack a powerful punch.
An especially nice camp near Puerto Escondido. The Pelicans were going nuts diving for fish all afternoon, and I caught a beautiful little Roosterfish with my handline.
Sunset at Agua Verde. Somewhere in here we were starting to get the sense that this trip was too good to be true, and yet it just kept getting better.
another great camp. We had all these beaches completely to ourselves, never saw another kayaker.
The last 50 miles to La Paz is all lowlands with a close by road and many more houses than we´d seen the whole trip, not to mention the ugly mine we had to paddle by; so we decided as long as the weather cooperated we would cover as many miles as possible.
Some of these spots had wonderful snorkeling
Under sail- luxurious ease
The last four days we kayaked 18 miles, 24 (with 14 under a Genoa sail using our awesome Feathercraft mast), 20, and another 18 miles (8 under sail). It´s really fun to use the sail, but there are some trade offs. To go south or east we need a north wind and the Nortes here get strong quick and can make the seas dangerous for small crafts like ours, especially with a big sail up in the air. On our 24 mile day we were on the sea a little longer than was maybe safe and we had to pull in to shore right next to a deserted fish camp to find a semi protected landing. The mob of vultures pecking away at the pile of fish heads ruined the ambiance of the camp a little at first, but we were able to find a nice spot to set of the tent and very grateful for the safe landing.
We were lucky to find a protected landing on this day. Believe me it's always rougher than it looks once you're out there.
The next day the seas were huge from the wind storm but we didn’t feel like taking a layover day. Towards the end of our paddle we were in swells of about 5 feet. Imagine sitting on the ground and looking up to a five foot tall wall of water and you may be able to understand why my heart was beating a little faster that day. The Norte did what it usually does and built all day until we were again forced to try and find some semblance of a protected camp. The direction of the land had changed sweeping south east to east all the way to La Paz and we knew from our guide book that such a camp didn´t exist. Here´s is the conversation that passed between Andy and I as we looked at a wave pummeled beach.
Andy “Well, I guess we will just crash land here”
Me “Why do we have to crash land? Why can´t we just land?”
Andy (silence) “So, what do you think?”
Me (silence) “I don´t think I want to do this.”
A surf landing in a kayak uses the exact opposite principles as a surfer on a surf board. We tried to paddle hard right after the waves broke and avoided being surfed along in our kayak which besides being dangerous can destroy the boat when it hits the sand. Lucky for us the beach had a gradual break and Andy lead us safely to shore directing me on when to paddle and when not to. We were surfed one time and although it was fun I was also terrified imagining being tipped over and crushed under 400 plus pounds of boat, and as i have an active imagination a sting ray was factored into my worst case scenario fantasy. Finally upon dry land I told Andy that it didn´t look so bad from shore but the quaver in my voice gave away just how freaked I had been.
local fishermen
It´s fun to be back in La Paz again seeing old haunts and new buildings. Andy is on the bus up to Loreto to get our car and bring it back to La Paz. I wish I could go with him, but I guess I will just have to use the Internet and go shopping. What a bummer, haha! I also have a few repairs to do, a burst seam on a sponson, a dry bag tear, a loop on the kayak, and both peeling soles of my chacos. We have been leading a healthy life kayaking eating granola, fruit, nuts, energy bars, and smaller dinners. True to form the first thing Andy and I did last night was to poison our bodies with jumbo margaritas and a huge greasy burger from a road side vendor in the plaza. Andy woke up sick but seems to be recovered now while I am walking around town today cramping and wanting to heave any time I look at food. I´ll be going to the store soon to find my tropical climate cure all medicine- the papaya.
embracing modernity in La Paz
definitely worth a little indigestion
We are staying in nice hotel which also does guided kayak and boat tours based in La Paz. When Andy went to ask about room availability the owner recognized the tell tale salt deposits covering Andy´s clothing and immediately asked if he needed help with the boat. The pickup was quickly loaded with all of our kayaking gear and driven to the hotel where we were given free reign of the outfitting warehouse to rinse off everything we own in fresh water and to generally do what ever we needed to.
Well we ARE in Mexico after all... we have to make some margaritas!
La Paz was not the end of our kayaking trip; we still had Isla Espiritu Santo and Isla Carmen to circumnavigate.
Back in 2006 Denae and I spent the summer driving around and exploring Mexico’s Baja peninsula. It was a fantastic trip, and one we did on the slimmest of budgets, but summer proved to be a rather poor season to visit; it was way too hot! The kind of heat that warms up large bodies of water- the Sea of Cortez- until they no longer cool you off. Where sunbathing becomes unthinkable and your shade tarp is your most treasured possession. Of course we’d known about these issues going in so it was OK… sort of.
But that heat got to us after a while, and it affected our enjoyment of the trip to a certain degree (get it?). Pretty much right after we made it back to the States I was scheming to myself about a trip back to Baja. I was certain that our return would involve a sea kayak or two, and I was pretty sure we would want to go during the Spring.
Spring in Baja is a favored season. Starting in March the winter winds are dying out in the Sea of Cortez, the water starts warming up a bit, and equally important for us, the Gray whales are still in the Pacific Lagoons.
For those of us who live on the west coast of the US, Gray whales have a special significance. These incredible creatures spend their summers in Alaska and Canada, then migrate all the way south down to Mexico in the winter to mate and give birth. Denae and I have seen them up in Canada in the summer, we’ve seen them passing by the Oregon coast in fall, and now we wanted to see them in Baja.
Whale-watching in Baja is not like other places. It’s better. A more accurate description of the activity would be whale-interacting. For some scientifically undetermined reason, a small percentage of the whales down here actively seek out human contact: they like to be touched. Both adults and calves.
Yes, in Laguna Ojo de Liebre, Laguna San Ignacio and Bahia Magdelena, you can go out in small boats (called pangas) and, if you’re lucky, you’ll be approached by some of the largest animals on earth- and they’ll act like puppies begging for attention. Any more written description than that is just going to be clutter; watch this video and you’ll see what I mean:
As far as logistics go, our first stop was Laguna Ojo de Liebre, aka Scammon’s Lagoon. It’s just inside the state of Baja Sur near the small windswept town of Guerrero Negro, a fairly easy two day’s drive from the US border. You can stay in town and arrange trips through many places, but we drove out to the ejido a few miles south and camped at the laguna for a few dollars a night. Actually, our first try at getting to the ejido was thwarted when someone flagged us down partway through the washboard road and said we’d be turned back if we kept going: there was a tsunami coming (!). This was, of course, back in March when the calamitous Japanese earthquake occurred. We drove back to Guerrero Negro and read up online about all the disturbing news, but at least determined that we weren’t about to be swept away.
The next morning, March 12, we drove back to the ejido and set up camp, paid our $40 usd each and were out on our 1.5 hour panga trip. This day was my backiversary: exactly a year after I broke my back in a skiing accident. The boat ride was so incredible we decided to stick around and do it again the following morning, which was Denae’s birthday. I wanted her day to be very special; her previous birthday had been somewhat subdued by it’s hospital bedside location. Luckily this second day was even better than the first with lots of contact with whales, which was vindication for Denae: she’d been telling people for months that she’d be petting baby whales for her birthday, and getting some strange looks. After all this we still hadn’t had enough of the whales, so we figured we might as well do it again at Laguna San Ignacio.
San Ignacio town is a pretty little date palm oasis in the desert, and the laguna is about 40 miles west over some pretty rough gravel/dirt/sand roads. We’d planned on getting a ride there from town in a shared van, but the cost only becomes reasonable if several people are going, and they weren’t. Once more into the breach, trusty old Ford Escort Wagon! It was a bit of a rough ride, half of it after it got dark, and had Denae holding her breath as we careened high speed through sandy stretches, the undercarriage plowing off the top inch or two of sand between the wheel ruts. Somewhat miraculously we didn’t get stuck, and made it to camp Kuyima where we set up our tent in the lee of our car to protect it from the howling winds.
Kuyima proved to be a pretty professional outfit complete with English speaking staff, and would be a good option for anyone wanting to see the whales (and if you’ve read this far and don’t want to go, one of us is doing something wrong!) but needing a little logistical hand-holding. Their website has lots of good information. Once again, the boat trip was indescribably amazing, after which we successfully drove back to San Ignacio town for the night. The next day we headed south to the Sea of Cortez for phase two of our trip: a grand sea kayak expedition.
Andy and I had been waiting the whole trip for the five day hike to the Ciudad Perdida and the anticipation was becoming especially unbearable as we got closer and closer to the date when our yellow fever vaccinations that we had gotten in Tunja would become effective. We weren’t really sure what to expect from this trek in general and part of me was ready to get going just so that it would be over with sooner. We had heard it called the ‘Green Hell’ referring to the oppressive heat, humidity, and rain of the jungle and we had seen multiple different people walking around town with an entire arm or leg covered in overlapping angry red bumps from mosquitoes and sand flies (or no-see-ums). The day our vaccinations kicked in we walked into Magic Tours in Taganga plopped down 420.000 pesos apiece ($228 USD) and we were booked into a five-day tour starting the following day.
Cooling off
Taking the advice of some travelers we had talked to we left the majority of our stuff in the baggage check at our hostel to set out with our packs as light as possible, and a couple of trash bags apiece to hopefully protect our little amount of stuff from the drenching downpours that occur. We were soon on our way, packed into a modified Landcruser with twelve other people who we quickly got to know after chatting for the first hour of the ride and being thrown violently against each other for the last hour. I’m not sure that any other vehicle (besides the motorcycles that kept passing us) could have made up that road; we were fording streams and driving through potholes that looked like meteor craters. One of the men in the truck told us that the government officials in Bogotá think that this road is actually paved and well maintained with the money given to the local officials each year, who are actually pocketing it and letting the mud track slowly erode.
When we finally got to the town at the start of the trail we were divided into our two hiking groups. Andy and I found ourselves with one other hiker, a British guy also named Andy, and our guide, Pedro, while the other five foreigners were sent away with their guides, a father and son team who are both called Caesar.
Sleeping area
After a quick lunch we started out along the trail in the early afternoon heat. The entire trail is only about 30 miles long, but I could tell immediately that this was going to be much harder than any 30 mile hike I’d ever done in Oregon. Hiking uphill in a humidity that is so strong it causes you to have streams of sweat pouring down your face almost immediately is not an easy feat, especially if you’re paranoid about bugs like me and choose to wear pants the entire trek. Thankfully the guides are used to having tourists moving at a sweaty zombie pace and take plenty of stops for fresh fruit and river swimming. In a couple of more hours we had made it to our sleeping area for the night, a large covered area with a hundred hammocks, three showers, five toilets, and only us four people sleeping in it.
How to make cocaine
The next morning we woke up and hiked into the woods for a little demonstration from a local entrepreneur on how to make cocaine. It turns out that to make cocaine all you basically need besides the coca is only eight or so house hold chemicals. Who knew? It was interesting to hear about what the man giving the demonstration had to say about how everyone who was now working in the tourism industry up there used to be involved with the drug trade in various different ways. He may not have been completely truthful about everyone being on the straight and narrow though; Pedro said there were still a lot of drugs growing in the hills.
At about this point in the trek we realized that the powdered juice we were constantly drinking was made with water straight from the river. So much for our iodine pills, because there was no way I was going to turn down the sweet sweet taste of Kool-Aid after Pedro got us hooked on it. We passed by an indigenous village on the way to camp and although we weren’t allowed in it was still interesting to learn a little about their lifestyle.
Indigenous buildings
At camp we met up with the group we had ridden with to the trail head and played cards with each other for a few hours to pass the time. Things really got interesting when a couple of Gol bars (chocolate flavoring covering wafer cookies, caramel, and nuts) were thrown in as prizes to the person who could make the best animal noises. One of the other Americans took the grand prize by whimpering like a dog and nuzzling the older, very stoic, Caesar. I think he even chewed his arm a little.
Crossing one of the many rivers
The next morning we started out earlier than the other group and were followed by a stray dog who had been flip flopping between our group and the other where he had gotten the name No Piña because of his dislike of pineapple. About half an hour into the hike we crossed a river in a box hanging from a cable. When all of us humans were safely across No Piña wasn’t really sure what to do. He had been offered a ride in the box by British Andy and refused (if dogs can do that) so the only thing he could do was try to swim across. We watched from the far side of the river as No Piña swam against the current and slowly got sucked down the river over rocks and through a rapid. We were all pretty depressed thinking that we were watching a dog drown and were extremely relieved to see him pop up on the opposite bank after a few tense moments.
We arrived early in camp at eleven and when the other group caught up with us we got scolded for losing No Piña. With a whole day to kill there wasn’t much to do but play a marathon five hour game of President and A-Hole and do a little swimming in the most amazing swim hole of the trip. It was in the middle of the river in an eddy behind a rock beneath a waterfall. Later in the afternoon it started to rain so hard that we could visibly notice the river rising.
The Lost City
The fourth day was the day we’d all been waiting for. We woke at five-thirty and climbed up the 1200 steps to the Lost City which was actually discovered relatively recently, in 1972, by treasure hunters who were able to steal a lot of gold figurines before the authorities got involved. Pedro led us around to all of the platforms which were held together by rocks and covered in grass and looked very much like the terraces you see people using for farming. And as he described the huts that used to be built on them I started to day dream that I was a Colombian treasure hunter stumbling upon the remains for the first time. The coolest part about being on the ruins was that there where only eight foreigners and our three Colombian guides exploring the area, unless you count the military of course. We were quite out numbered by the military which is a good thing since they were originally stationed there after eight foreigners were kidnapped by the guerrilla group ELN and held hostage for three months in 2003. The area felt quite safe to us now, but it was still a little eerie when Pedro pointed out the trail that the ELN had used to march the tourists away to their hiding place.
Break time
There were a crazy amount of mosquitoes at the city and I was happy when the time came to leave. We had just barely set foot outside of the ruins when Pedro stopped short and told us all to stop walking because there was a deadly poisonous snake on the path. He dropped a rock onto it which managed to cut it into two wriggling pieces. Caesar had to grab another large rock to smash the moving head and fangs completely flat. It was exciting and also very scary to think of how close we were to such a deadly jungle creature- the guides told us there was no antidote to this snake’s bite, and even if there were would we be able to get the anti-venom in time so far away from medical treatment?
Dampness
We walked at a much quicker pace covering ground all the way back to where we slept on night two, the whole time Pedro was telling me stories about the worst things that have happened on his guided trips. One story he told me was of a boy getting bit by a snake at the same place where we camped on night three. Pedro was sent running up the stone steps to the Ciudad Perdida to get the anti-venom from the military. When he was told that the military didn’t have it for whatever reason he turned around and ran back to camp to relay the information to the boy’s father, who also happened to be an indigenous leader. Luckily the leader was able to go into the woods and make some kind of herbal poultice which cured the bite and the next day the boy was fine.
After a few more stories of heart attacks, snakes, and an unconscious Israeli, we spent an hour or so jumping off rocks into the river where we almost saw the demise of No Piña. That night everyone was so too exhausted to play cards and we were happy to pass out under our mosquito nets.
Cooking dinner
The fifth day was another one started at five thirty in the morning and by noon we had covered the distance of both day one and two combined. After one last lunch together we all squished back into the vehicle again and we were soon back in Taganga.
The military
Overall this trek was one of the most fun things that Andy and I have done in Colombia. At times it was really difficult because of the heat and humidity, but anyone in halfway decent physical shape shouldn’t have a problem completing it. For me the breaks from hiking that we took swimming in the river with fresh fruit cut and laid onto a banana leaf for us to eat were just as fun and amazing as the actual Ciudad Perdida itself. We managed to survive the trip with minimal bug bites, unlike a couple of our companions, by constantly wearing pants and obsessively covering ourselves in bug goop. I would highly recommend this trip to anyone who has enough time on their Colombian holiday, and don’t forget to bring some playing cards.
Our arrival into Santa Marta was the first time that either Andy or myself had ever set eyes on the Carribean Sea. The weather was really windy and a little stormy so it wasn’t the typical blue-green color that we’ve seen since, but nothing could have dampened our excitement to be on a tropical coast.
Just about everyone we talked to either didn’t bother at all to stop in Santa Marta or really didn’t like it if they did. We decided to give it a chance anyway. The weather was unbearably hot in the heart of the city so we spent a lot of time on the waterfront boardwalk which had a consistantly strong winds blowing throughout the day. We visited the small free museum that had a replica of the Ciudad Perdida to get us excited for our upcoming trek, and I´ll admit it, to enjoy the air conditioning. We also spent a day on the beaches of Rodadero which seemed a little dirty but still pretty. The highlight of our stay was walking along the water at night watching families and couples strolling back and forth under the stars.
Santa Marta
Sometimes when Andy and I are traveling along the ‘Hostal Trail’ we start to crave cities that don’t rely solely on tourism and Santa Marta is definitely just that. We got to eat a lot of street food and walked a little bit around the market. It was more so the hotel we were in than the town itself that finally got us moving out of the city. Our hotel was really cheap craphole and we got used to holding our breath when we left it to walk down a six block stretch of road where the sewer was flooded. But when I woke up one morning and saw that some weird-looking mold had grown on the soap dish overnight it made sense to leave before an alien spore started inhabiting my body.
