Loop the loop

Saturday 23rd March - Sunday 31st March

My five day mini-tour south was so much fun, I was really looking forward to doing it again - this time in a car, and with friends. Elsa arrived on Saturday, and as Joel had lent us his car, our plan was to drive from La Paz to Cabo via Todos Santos, to meet with Elsa's friends, and then back up to La Paz via Cabo Pulmo. This was pretty much the same trip as I had done on a bicycle, but in reverse.

We planned to camp most of the time, and we kicked off by doing just that at the nearby beach Tecolote. The next day we headed south, and our first stop was a beer at the Hotel California in Todos Santos. THE Hotel California! Afterwards, I wanted to check out a place that locals and travellers alike had told me about, usually in hushed tones, a beautiful secluded beach not far from TS. I had come across a place where I thought it might be while I was cycling, and wanted to check it out a little more. It turned out to be the right place, and when we got there we had the place to ourselves. There was a natural freshwater spring bubbling up from behind the beach, running across it before it met the ocean. It was literally an oasis, exactly as you might dream it. I kid you not, wild horses actually roam the beach and the huge grove of palm trees just behind it. Rugged hills hemmed it in north and south, making the dirt road in the only access. It was amazing!

You can check in any time you like

The hidden beach

Horses. For realz.

Not bad.

We continued on, had delicious pizza in a strangely authentic Italian place in Pescadero, and ended up camping on a beach in Cerritos. It turned out we camped for free right next to a hacienda perched on a hill where guests were paying $500/night! Ah the serenity. The next day we continued on to Cabo San Lucas and stayed with my friend Lisa there, before meeting up with Elsa's friends Camila and Anna in San Jose del Cabo.

Camila and Elsa. Such tourists.

We all spent the next few days shuttling from the hotel to various beaches and bars in Los Cabos. We did the obligatory boat tour to Los Arcos, hung out on La Playa del Amor, but eschewed the rest of the Cabo extravangance (parasailing, partying, diving, sailing, etc, etc, etc) and enjoyed doing very little except lying on the beach, and checking out all the crazy rock formations around the cape.

Elsa on the Playa del Amor and some Cabo craziness in the background: cruise ships, sailboats, tours, etc.

h00t!

Half alien head thing.

Rock Ghost watching people below.

Frieeeeends?

I have this strangely emotive memory of standing in the 'window to the Pacific', a cool little cave portal with a sandy bottom, which connects the Pacific Ocean and Sea of Cortez, through the headland. After swimming to it, I was standing with one foot in either sea, acutely aware that the powerful and unpredictable surge into the cave, particularly from the Pacific side, could drag me out or dash me against the rocks. I edged closer through the portal towards the Pacific side, feeling the force of the waves through that narrow portal increasing with every step. I was compelled, drawn to get a view of Los Arcos through there, a view of the swell of the Pacific, and this compulsion was so strangely strong, I just had to keep going. Inch by inch I moved along, until I just caught a glimpse of the base of the arches, and the fierce swell guarding it. In that brief moment, that brief contact, I had this sensation of not just looking through to the other side, but almost to another world. It was like being close enough to almost touch this vast, powerful, and mysterious entity, which was more like the centre of something, or the nature of it, than a physical thing, something as clearly beautiful to be close to you, to behold, as it was clearly fatal to touch, to know. So strange... I did not reach out to touch it. I swam back.

The window to the Pacific

The portal up close-up, at low tide

Los Arcos, The Arches

We farewelled Camila and Anna, and started the return trip to La Paz. It was a rough and rocky road there up the coast to Cabo Pulmo, and we had to go fairly slow the whole way. We saw many people camped on the remote beaches, clearly appreciating the solitude that the difficult access grants. We in turn were rewarded with a beautiful snorkel session at Cabo Pulmo, famous for being the northernmost extent of reef in the Americas. As close as 50m from the beach, and in a couple of metres of water we saw an impressive array of beautiful fish and marine life. Sunset hurried us back to the car, and to the road, and warmed our faces on the drive home to La Paz.

The road to Cabo Pulmo

Cabo Pulmo coast

It was strange, being able to compare a bike tour with a car tour so directly. It's amazing just how much you see on a bike, and how much a part of your surroundings you feel on a bike, compared to being in a vehicle. It's partly the lack of a barrier between you and the reality of the world around you. The surface of the road, the shape of the land, the wind, the heat, the grass, the trees, the dust... they are no longer things just to see, distant from them, but something to be felt, you are connected to them, and constantly - not just when you step out of the car for a moment. It's something you can only really experience if you are cycling, or perhaps walking. I guess this is why it's important to choose where you ride, and why I find riding through urban/industrial areas so miserable. It's also partly the time thing. Cycling can feel slow sometimes - largely because it is - but having that time to really take things in, really absorb, think about, and reflect on where you are... it changes the experience completely. Things that are an hour apart on a bike, fly by within minutes in a vehicle. It just can't be the same. In a very simple way, its like sipping a good wine, rather than downing it. Perhaps closer to the mark, it's like carefully hand-stitching something you could sew with a machine. The result may look the same, but it's the consciousness, the care, that makes the difference. It's a fundamental shift. Particularly when what you're sewing may be memory, or experience itself.