Folding laundry under the stars

A thread seems to be emerging from my posts and it has to do with the world around me. Like I said in my previous post - or, perhaps, implied - the surrounding landscape continues to amaze me and transforms the ordinary moments of my life in Baja into something extraordinary or, at the very least, something that doesn't suck.

Take, for example, this evening. 

I got home early from work and walked down to the beach for a little exercise. More than most days, todays' sunset was taken out of a 19th century painting: an orange sunset and a blue sky speckled with a few gray clouds tinged with pink from the sun. At one point, a sliver of the moon became visible, putting the entire scene beyond description. 

I alternately walked and ran down the beach. A beach, I might add, where no one could be seen for miles. 

I came home to find my friends who were eager to return to a taqueria (taco house) in town they found last week. La Poblana makes damn good tacos. In an open-air taco shack, we feasted on homemade corn tortillas with carne asada and pastor. All on a balmy night.  Good food, good friends, good feeling.

When we returned, I realized that I had not taken down the laundry that I had hung several hours earlier. It was 10pm, but it was such an incredible night and it was a perfect excuse to be outside. The stars were out and the Milky Way was visible.  

The beauty. The silence. The gentle breeze.The folding of towels.  

How do you emotionally respond when you are performing the necessary, mundane things in your life and you find yourself below a sparking sky? It's an odd moment, to say the least, especially when you are able recognize the humor of it all. And its beauty. 

Starry Starry Night in Baja

At night, here in Todos Santos, all I seem to do is look up. At the stars - lots of them. On some nights, I can see the Milky Way and it is sight that renders me speechless. Not only is it entirely new to me but it is also deeply moving. How could it not be?

With these kinds of vistas, it is easy to find yourself asking questions about the world or the universe. As simple and cliche as it may seem, I often look up and wonder about our place in the cosmos and creation. You don't get these kinds of thoughts looking up in Los Angeles. With nothing to look up at, there's really no point, is there?

I grew up in Los Angeles, a city that is lit to the nines and it's located in a region that is lit from sea to desert by street lights, business signs, electronic billboards, car lights and more. You name it, it's lit. Even porch lights contribute to the light pollution. Some homeowners require klieg lights to keep the prowlers away, akin to using a hammer to flatten a slow-moving snail.

So when I came to Todos Santos, I was taken aback by the night skies. I can't get enough. After dinner many nights, when my friends and I are outside enjoying a warm Baja night, I often stand and look up. Sometimes I'm lucky enough to see a shooting star. Other nights, I realize that I saw a constellation I had not seen before. When the moon is full or nearly full, I love its effect on the landscape.

It's hard to imagine a similar scene taking place in Los Angeles. I am told that when the 1994 Northridge earthquake hit, we had dark skies for a day or two, and many saw the night sky as they had never seen it before.

There's a slower pace of life here and it is certainly tied to the landscape and, by landscape, I also include the skies. The beaches, the surrounding desert, the dusty roads, the cactus and star-filled nights put you in a different place. Sure, I sometimes miss the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles, but there's something to be said for an environment and a way of life that give you moments of pause and reflection. How can you not appreciate that?

The Beauty of the Night in Baja

It's amazing to come home at night to a stunning Baja sunset. In Todos Santos, it's a bit cooler here than in other places in part due to the fact that the town is on the coast.  At night, the breezes make it all the more amazing.

Sunset view in Todos Santos. From this vantage, you can see the Pacific Ocean. 

Recently, two of my colleagues came home one night and saw a flower blooming on one of the cacti in the compound where we're staying. Given that I have a thing for native plants, they called over and asked about it. I knew the cactus was pitaya agria, but wasn't completely familiar with it and its blooming cycle. After consulting the internet and my trusty Baja California Plant Field Guide, I found more information: it blooms from July to September. It blooms only at night and each bloom lasts only for one night.

Pitaya agria. It only blooms at night. 

There are other blooms at this time of year. Chain-link cholla - also known as cholla pelona (rough translation: bald cholla) - also blooms at this time of year with a nice pink flower.

Chain-link cholla has beautiful pink blooms. It gets its name from the chain link appearance of its stems.  

The yuca vine - or yellow morning glory - is a vine that blooms mightily around this time of year and you can spot it easily along the highway; in fact, it blooms everywhere. It's hard to miss! Like any good vine, it can cover a cactus or other plant without much effort but who cares when the blooms are so bright and cheery? I have my own photo, but it doesn't do the bloom justice. The Arizona-Sonoran Desert Digital Library has a beautiful photo of the vine in bloom.

This photo doesn't do the yuca vine any justice. 

As I look around at much of the formal landscaping I'm seeing here, I am concerned that Baja will go the way of many urban areas in the United States which have cast away their natives for the ease of non-natives. Not only are these plants beautiful, but they support wildlife. The non-natives don't necessarily do that.

For a strong argument in defense of natives, read Doug Tallamy's book Bringing Nature Home. A professor of entomology (the study of insects) and wildlife ecology at the University of Delaware, he looks at study after study and reminds us that native plants support native wildlife. If we remove these native landscapes, we also remove the much of the wildlife. And there are other repercussions.

But enough of my native plant zealotry for one posting. Enjoy the photos and the beauty of the Baja Peninsula.

A swim in the Bay of Dreams

Yesterday, I went with friends to the other side of the peninsula to visit another gem of  a swimming spot along the east cost of the Baja Peninsula: Bahia de los Suenos.  A friend and colleague has been serving as host to friends from Italy and she wanted them to see another slice of Baja. On Saturday we visited Los Cerritos Beach, just south of Todos Santos, so it seemed only fair to try something on "the other side."

I have swum in the coves and bays of the Sea of Cortez twice so far and both - near the Isla de Santo Espiritu and in the Bahia de Concepcion - were wonder-filled experiences for different reasons. I expected this one to be no different.

Bahia de los Suenos (Bay of Dreams) is also known as Bahia de los Muertos (Bay of the Dead). No one seems quite sure how it got that name, but it was confirmed when a 19th century Chinese ship was turned away at La Paz, an hour north. Its crew later died of yellow fever and were buried near the bay, further cementing its name. I can't tell you how it got its current, more light-hearted name, but I'm sure one or two of my more persistent friends will find the answer online.

We arrived to 97 degree weather with - thankfully - an overcast sky, but the water looked amazing. In we went.  No waves, just relatively calm water that allowed us to swim, float and talk with each other.

Looking south towards the Gran Sueno resort.

Looking north towards the entrance to the beach and bay. 

I took a walk down the beach to look at vacation homes I saw from afar. Tucked away in a corner of the bay, they appear to be part of the Gran Sueno Resort, a swanky getaway, to say the least. The resort includes a golf course and equestrian center. I've read that up to 600 homes are eventually planned in the area, too. Given the beauty of the bay and surrounding area, it does not surprise me.

South, closer to Gran Sueno Resort. The walk looked short, but it wasn't. Still, it was definitely worth the time and effort. 

Another amazing view looking north.

We arrived around 10:30 am and there were only about 10-15 other people on the beach. By the time we left around 2:00 pm, there were maybe 30 at most. I'm sure that, in the height of the travel season (think late fall, winter and spring) there would be more visitors, but I can't imagine it being crowded.

We returned to our car and drove home, passing through the nearby mountain range to get home. We drove through the town of El Triunfo once again, a small village that was once home to the largest population in Baja in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.  It is a quaint town and hosts the Museo de la Musica, a piano museum, a remnant of its heyday. I kid you not.

The running of the bulls

I had two exhilarating moments of different sorts last week that tested the boundaries of my limited experience here - as if being in Baja California isn't an ongoing test of my senses and perceptions.

On Wednesday, we ventured into Cabo San Lucas to meet with folks from Wide Open Baja, one of the leaders in off road racing on the Baja Peninsula. We were there to get some insights and learn more about the sport. Translation: We were going to race a bit on their tracks just north of Cabo.

I'm not much of a racing enthusiast, much less a car enthusiast. For the past 26 years, I have driven and owned one and only one car: a 1964 Plymouth Valiant. Now, that's nothing to sneeze at. It has a V-8 engine and a manual transmission (three on the tree in common language). Plus, I drive that car on the Los Angeles freeway system with little harm to myself or others. So, I can say that I am driver with an understanding of the road and its demands.

And I must admit that I'm a little uncomfortable when it comes to off road racing in general and its effect on the environment. As most of friends and colleagues know, I've been a native plant advocate and gardening enthusiast for about ten years. When I told my native plant colleagues of my upcoming adventure, they cringed. How I love them.

I could only imagine running over Bambi or - Goddess forbid - shredding some native cacti that provides habitat. Oh, the eco-horrors visited upon me in my imagination. But my anxiety was momentary. Of course, we did see a four-footed deer-like something (I'm better at plant ID) jump across the track at during one of our final laps.

I know that outdoor enthusiasts are increasingly becoming environmental advocates. Bird hunters and others, for example, are advocating for protection of wildlands, recognizing that the loss of habitat translates into loss of species. I believe that outdoor racers recognize the benefits of habitat and the need for open space protection.

We arrived at Wide Open Baja's track outside of Cabo to to try their five-mile course. The course is long enough to train you in the art of off-road racing without loss of limb or sanity. Or so I thought.

With the appropriate pre-race education and advice, we suited up. And by suiting up, I mean that we found the right helmut. Strapped in and safely secured, we took off, two to a car. I opted to be the passenger rather than the driver and was glad of my decision. As exhilarating as it was, I know my limits and I was not ready to handle an off road vehicle despite my rush-hour credentials.

I rode first with my colleague Jim and later, Chris (pictured above). Chris was the more aggresive of the two and on several occasions I found myself shouting expletives through the turns and over one or two hills or jumps. In retaliation, I regaled him with several show tunes, including "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang." I nearly derailed his concentration when I warbled a selection from "A Chorus Line." Clearly, I have a gift.

After an adrenaline-filled four laps, we ended our "race" and our introduction to off road racing. It was the right number of laps of me, giving me enough insight without too must dust in my eyes, lungs and hair. I emerged with body intact and nerves slightly shot.

Saturday was an entirely different experience that had its own unnerving moments.

My colleagues and I ventured to Isla (Island) Espiritu Santo and surrounding waters for a day of exploration and understanding. Our most excellent companions for the day - Carlos, Nathalie and Jan from Baja Expeditions - served as our guides on land and sea. Take a look at their site; they've been around for 30-plus years helping people discover the beauty of Baja California and its native wildlife and landscape.

We set out from the harbor in La Paz in our panga, a small fishing boat, for Espiritu Santo with our supplies: snorkels, fins and lunch - and me with my Baja plant field guide in hand. [I'm quite sure that my friends are rolling their eyes at my native plant nerdiness.] It was opened many times during our excursion to identify the plants I saw.

We planned to visit Los Islotes (islets) just off the island which are host to sea lions, birds and sea life. Before we went there, we stopped at Candelero, a cove that was typical of the island's beauty:  blue waters, sun, and white sand surrounded by the island's desert ecology of cacti, including cardon, pitaya, pipe organ cactus and - believe or not - wild fig growing out of the sides of cliffs and rocks.

After an amazing swim, we hiked back into the canyon to see more of the island's flora and fauna, and get a look at the cove from a different angle. (I'm on the right in the photo above, with the big hat. I'm told it can be seen from space.)

These photos do not do the cove and its warm waters justice. Our time there and later at the Islotes had an effect on me. Suffice it to say that though you can't see my face in half these photos, know that a smile is firmly plastered on it.

We must have spent at least two hours at Candelero. I can't be sure. Time here seems to slow down and it's difficult to determine the time of day, much less the day of the week, when  you don't really care about it. When you come face to face with a jaw-dropping landscape, certain higher brain functions cease to work properly. It's that simple.

We arrived at Los Islotes, marveling at the sea lions and birds, including pelicans. As a reminder that desert ecology extends to the sea, I saw one lone Cardon cactus atop one of islets. Covering the islets nearly completely in white were bird droppings, giving the scene a "winter in the Sea of Cortez" effect. It takes a bit getting used to.

I donned my snorkel and fins, along with my colleagues and hosts. This was the second time in my life that I had been snorkeling and the last time was 20 years ago. Needless to say, I was excited and mildly unnerved. In I went.

Before we dove in, Carlos gave us an introduction to the Islotes and our expected behaviors in the water. The most important rule was to keep our distance from the sea lions or sea wolves as they are called here (lobos marinos).  Should we venture too close, the bulls would rush to defend their territory, potentially hurting the sea lion pups. And we could be hurt, too.

Determined to be a respectful snorkeler, I kept my distance and focused on the waters below. Although the water was murkier than usual, we saw large numbers of fish. Even Carlos noted that the numbers were higher than usual.

I thought I kept my distance, but a bull swam past me as if to ward me off. Needless to say, I did not hesitate to comply.  I moved on to another area to explore and again experienced the same warning from another bull. I suppose you could call it the running of the bulls, but more like the running from the bulls. Oddly enough, I was the only one who had encounters.

To give you an idea about how close I came to a bull, look below. But if you look closely, you can see a sea lion at the bottom.

 An underwater shot of my doughy body. They say the Sea of Cortez adds ten pounds.

We took the panga back to La Paz, tired but content. I sat towards the back, gladly letting the water hit me. Everyone thought I was crazy to sit there, but the water felt refreshing, given the heat we felt as we neared the harbor. (La Paz was experiencing temperatures in the 90's.)

We said goodbye and I told our guides that I would be recommending a similar expedition to the alumni association of my college, Occidental College, which operates a research vessel in Southern Cailfornia. Oxy has a history of community service in the Baja Peninsula and Baja Expedition would very much align with the intellectual curiousity and environmental interests of our alumni.

These two trips, of different extremes (chasing nature, being chased by nature), reminded me how unique the Baja Peninsula is and how much must be done to protect its waters and landscape. It's hard to imagine explaining this past week to anyone, let alone myself. But I'm doing my best. And the photos don't hurt either.

Sponsored by [insert favorite Mexican beer here]

Perhaps I'm obsessed with signage. You may have noted in one of my earlier posts that I found some of the highway signs fairly amusing, my favorite sign being the one that said "Obey the signs!."


Or maybe I'm obsessed with symbolism. I have a fascination with the things that dot our landscape, like buildings, signs, trash - you name it, because, in some ways, they define who we are. And our landscape tells us something about us, too. When we travel to other places, we look to them to understand the people who live there.

I say this because traveling through Baja has been a unique experience. As much as I should have read more about Baja California and Baja California Sur before I left, I didn't. I'm lazy, I'll admit.

In a way, it may have been blessing. It gave me the chance to see the peninsula through the eyes of a naive Baja traveler. It certainly made me aware of the misconceptions and, certainly, biases that I brought with me.

At the very least, I knew little about the flora here. I had some ideas (desert, cacti) based on Baja native plants I had seen in Los Angeles. Before I left, my friends and colleagues at the Theodore Payne Foundation for Wild Flowers and Native Plants in Los Angeles gave me Baja California Plant Field Guide as a going away gift. I've been something of a native plant zealot for ten years, so it made sense that I would want to get to know the natives here. (By zealot, I mean that I throw seeds, not stones.)

Driving down from L.A. with a colleague gave me a chance to see the length of Baja close up. It's amazing what plants you can identify driving at speeds ranging from 40 to 70 miles per hour.

In northern areas of Baja, I saw several native plants that are familiar to me in Los Angeles: monkey flower, matilija poppy, mexican elderberry, etc. Sadly, I also saw familiar plants that have the potential to destroy the natural environment here and in California: invaders like castor bean, mustard, etc.

While parts of the northern most areas reminded me of home,  the deserts were a wholly unexpected visual experience. Jaw-dropping beautiful. I had preconceptions of Baja and one of them was that the peninsula was flat. Wrong. Completely wrong. Mountains, mesas, desert, cacti and much more. My colleague, Chris, and I cursed in exclamation every time we rounded a bend and found ourselves looking out at stunning mountains and mesas, miles of cactus and the Sea of Cortez. 

The cacti most common to Baja and the ones that can be seen in the links I included above is the Cardon. It is the ultimate symbol of "the Baja" as many people call the peninsula and the two states (Baja California and Baja California Sur) the cover it. Some are believed to be up to 200 years old and weigh up to 10 tons.

There are other cacti and plants that inhabit the deserts here, some with interesing names: chain link cholla, pipe organ cactus, old man cactus, teddy bear cholla, candelabra cactus, prickly pear cactus and more.

These and other beautiful native plants, cacti, succulents and otherwise, have come to symbolize the beauty of Baja and its uniqueness.

Of course, there are other symbols that stood out on our way south: beer signs. Perhaps the best signage to be found, outside of more commercial areas in the bigger towns and cities (think Walmart, banks, etc.) are the signs that promote various Mexican beers, including Tecate and Pacifico, among others. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that Baja California is a sponsored by Mexican beer manufacturers. Or Coca Cola.

While these human made signs have made an impression on me and my understanding of Baja, nothing can override the emotional impact of seeing Baja's desert landscape and the Sea of Cortez. In my mind this is how I see Baja now.

The Baja is more than Tijuana, more than Ensenada. It is beyond the misconceptions of border violence and the twisted paternalistic view we often take with our Mexican neighbors. It is an understanding rooted in its stunning landscape and what Baja is and can be if we protect it. 

Baja California: Sponsored by Old Man Cactus.

Obey the Signs

Driving through Baja and experiencing the landscape has been an experience of a life time. I cannot adequately describe the beauty of this place, especially the desert areas.

I'm still a Baja novice, but I'm fairly certain that these photos are from the Central Desert of Baja. 

These rock formations and others in the Baja desert reminded me of the landscape  in  and  near  Joshua  Tree National  Monument.

While this photo does not do justice to the landscape, my colleague  and I found ourselves rounding  the bend to see jaw-dropping, expletive scenes of beauty. 

Again, these photos do not do justice to the beauty of the desert and the  mountain ranges and mesas.

Driving through Baja and experiencing the roads is another matter. I'm not complaining about the roads. By and large, they're fine and decently paved in most places. Sometimes, you need to be careful while they perform road upgrades. Clearly, we're not on a freeway in Southern California.

That said, driving here can be a little quirky. For example, take their signs.

My colleague, Chris, and I have been making our way down the Baja peninsula since last Tuesday. First Tijuana, then Ensenada and last night Santa Rosalia. Like any trip, it's the signs that guide us, remind us and, when necessary, command us. Maps help, but a good sign can do wonders.

The signs we've encountered have made us smile. Sometimes, they don't translate well into English. Other times, I'm not so sure that they do well in Spanish.

Public service signs are dotted along the roads down here. They are white and in the shape of a long thin rectangle, enough to accommodate a simple sentence.

First and foremost among these public service signs are the ones that periodically remind Chris and me that we should "Obey the Signs" or "Obedezca los senales." (In your imagination, insert a tilde above the n in senales.)  Given the brevity of this particular sign and the fact that we see them on lonely stretches of highway in the midst of some jaw-dropping scenery, I have to wonder if a higher source is issuing them. Considering our surroundings, I think it's possible.

Others tell us to "Reduce your speed," "Better late than never" or, my favorite, "Don't mistreat the signs." I remarked to Chris that they're like the fortunes we find when we crack open fortune cookies, except in this case, they're opened and posted along the roadside for all to enjoy.

I assume that we'll see more of them and I'm hoping to see some variations, especially "Obey or die." I think it works better in Spanish: "Obedezca or muera."

-------------------------------

Tonight, we're staying in Loreto at an amazing little hotel that we found by chance when we turned a corner tonight. It's called Hotel Posada del Cortes and it is has nicely appointed accommodations for the price. I highly recommend it.

Our stay here caps an amazing day. We left the central desert yesterday as we ventured towards the east coast of Baja and the Sea of Cortez. It's not as a hot here as the central desert, but it's definitely humid, but not as much as Florida. Tonight, we dined in a local restaurant and the balmy weather was perfect.

We finally stopped by the side of the road to take photos of the  Sea of Cortez, also known as the Gulf of California. 

We started the day by visiting Punta Chivato, about 20 miles off Highway 1. Specifically, we were visiting El Hotelito Punta Chivato to meet the owner. While he was not there, we had a great breakfast and looked around at the hotel a bit. To get there, we passed through a small neighborhood near the highway and onto a  dirt road (nicely maintained, I might add) . Some very nice homes line the shore of Punta Chivato for about a mile or so and there's a small airstrip there, too. There's also a small golf course among the native foliage. Despite the development that exists, it has an isolated and laid back feeling.

We made our way south to Loreto, a city of 14,000 that originally served as the capital of Alta and Baja California for nearly 100 years in the 18th century. We had lunch at Mediterraneo, a restaurant with a front row seat on the Sea of Cortes and a good view of the Isla de Ramona. I had fish fajitas, black beans and great homemade lemonade - made me a happy guy.

After lunch, the siren call of the sea lured us back north to the amazing coves along the Bahia Concepcion (Conception Bay) that we passed an hour or two before. (Just follow the link I've embedded for the Bahia and you will get a glimpse of how beautiful the east coast of Baja is.)

Somewhere in Bahia Concepcion we found this amazing cove.  If you  look to the left on the mountain side, you can see  what appears to be a whale. 

The same cove as above, looking to the left of where the above photo was  taken.  Beautiful views, calm water and nothin' but quiet. 

We have been in the car so much over the past few days and we needed a chance to relax and swim. The water was warm and we could walk out 30-50 meters from the beach with our heads still above water.  Maybe 20 people at most were at the cove and, altogether, it was very relaxed.  Pelicans were diving for food nearby and a few seagulls were flying about, including one long-legged bird I have yet to identify.

The water, coupled with the gorgeous views of the surrounding mountains and shoreline, made my day, if not my year.