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Published: January 30th 2011
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Fabled Cabo Polonia was as magical as my South American friends had foretold. I'd come for the summer solstice--the longest, lightest day of the year, which this year coincided with a lunar eclipse, and a bright, light night thanks to the full moon. I love extremes when all possibilities are exposed, and the veil between worlds is thinnest.
Cabo was perfect--isolated by the Atlantic and by tall, shifting sand dunes, there were no roads into the town, and thus no cars. No electricity to mask the parade of stars in the heavens or to run noisy machines. Founded in the 70s by hippies and fishers, the town was filled with colorful, dreadlocked characters, hand-built homes with murals, painted banners and creative touches, and almost completely surrounded by water. I was born on an island (Coronado Island off the coast of San Diego) and lived as a child on islands--Oahu and the 1-mile by 2-mile Midway Island. I felt I'd come home.
Banners flew over some of the buildings, marking crafts shops and restaurants, and Rastafarian flags signaled the location of special treats. The colorfulness and sense of openness and freedom I experienced in Cabo made this a highlight of
my journey, and one of the many places I could imagine living. I'd love to return for the winter solstice when only the hard-core hippies and the magic of the place are there.
Many of the shops were still closed, but there was lots of work and preparation for the masses and those with money to burn who would descend upon the town between Christmas and Carnival when the town of 50 would swell to hundreds as the generally-empty houses are rented out to vacationers.
The cabo, or cape, had once been an island, but long-ago, shifting sands and lowering sea waters stretched a narrow neck of sand between the island and the mainland. The evening of the solstice, I watched the sun set into the tame waves of the western beach, then raced across the narrow neck of sand that defines the cape, to dance with the full moon as she rose, big and red, out of the east.
Above the rising moon, an upside-down Orion with the Three Marias (the three stars we northerners know as Orion's belt) was huge and so close--carving out a quarter of the sky before me. I turned to the
south where waves crashed and carved extraordinary shapes in boulders and sea lions bellowed out. To the west, the guiding beacon of the towering lighthouse pulsed through the night.
Feminine moon and Marias on my left, hard rocks changed by soft waves and mating sea lions ahead, and on my right, the masculine pole of the lighthouse--the universe was complete. For hours, I danced with these elements, feeling each in me--I was complete. I had come home.
Earlier that day, I'd been dropped by the side of the two-lane road that cruises past Uruguay's fabulous seaside resorts. Nearby was a half-filled car park for those who had driven, for no normal vehicles would be continuing into Cabo. With the other tourists, I bought a ticket and was packed into a wild, towering Blade Runner, 4x4 truck that would carry us over the dunes into the pedestrian- and horse-only Cabo Polonio.
I dragged my hopeless, too-heavy suitcase a bit through the sand until rescued by the good Alfredo from the Cabo Polonio Hostel who lifted the monster and carried it to the hostel (ok, it's really not that heavy, but I'm a weenie and have noodle-muscles in my
arms). Those planning to visit Cabo should be warned that the Cabo Polonia Hostel, the only one listed on booking sites, is by far the most expensive in town--right next door there was another for 2/3 the price and another was being finished in the center of town. That said, I loved my stay at the hostel.
My dorm room had a view of the ocean and was cooled by her breezes. Handy, since the town had no electricity and there would be no fan in the room. I shared the room with a German guy, Torsten, and a couple from Switzerland, Chris and Chris, all of whom I became close with in just a short time. The place had this kind of effect.
After a long chat with them and Alfredo, I set off to explore. When I arrive at a new place, I always like to circle it to know my surroundings (and exits if necessary). Down the wild,
Playa Calaveras/Skeleton Beach (many, I suspect, had been lost in the heavy waves), I passed ocean-view restaurants, and then came to a geological nirvana.
I had met wonderful rocks (some of my favorite beings) in Punta
del Este and in La Pedrera, but these were the best boulders of all. The water had carved sinuous shapes and fanciful fissures, and I spent hours rock-hopping and taking hundreds of photos. Not only was I filled with their beauty, but also I was returned to an agility and strength I thought I had lost years ago.
I used to be a nimble rock-hopper, running down our Santa Barbara creek beds, hopping from rock to rock, not stopping to look for the next step, but just jumping off, trusting that I'd find a spot to land on, again and again. I hadn't done that since my body had rounded about ten years ago. However, that solstice afternoon, my youth returned, and the rocks were a playground. Handy, since I'm counting on my old abilities to kick in when I head to Patagonia's mountains and glaciers.
I heard loud barking and then spotted huge, noisy, aggressive southern sea lions and smaller seals on their offshore island and their on-shore rookeries. It was mating season, and the sea lion males were fighting for rights to a harem of 5 or 6 females. While others were transfixed by this, I
was rather put off. It was so sad to see the upstart males being bitten by a gauntlet of victors and driven off--way too much fighting for me.
Above the fighting sea lions rose the splendid lighthouse, the best of the several that I'd climbed in lighthouse-rich Uruguay. In the days to come, I would photograph it from all angles, peeking above the houses and offering a sense of comfort and direction.
At the top of the lighthouse, I gained a perspective that helped me understand the landscape. I could see that the cabo/cape had once been an island in the geological past. This part of the cape was occupied by the boulders, rookeries and a large, green-lawned naval base and the lighthouse. Connecting this to the mainland was a narrow neck of sand with its wide swathes of beaches, houses and shops of the town on both sides of the neck, Beyond the tiny town, shifting pinkish dunes, the only moving dunes in Uruguay, stretched to a pine forest, planted to keep the dunes from drifting further inland. Had I been there a couple of months earlier, I would also have seen southern right whales off the
shore.
A kind lighthouse keeper joined me, answered my questions, and then let me climb up into the sacred, off-limits dome where a million crystals gathered light and focused it into the beam. The lighthouse used its 1880s original mechanisms, which had to be tended by the keepers 5 times a day. How great that it hadn't been replaced by some anonymous, computerized mechanism!
After wonderful dancing on the beach that night for the solstice, I returned to the group for late-night partying, and we went to bed with the full moon illuminating our room. The following day, we had another lazy morning of chatting, then I was off to explore the dunes and the forest with a gentle wind cooling me from the rather fierce sun. Upon my return, I once again tried to baptize myself in the Atlantic, but again it was too cold. Oh well, there was other magic to be had. That evening, we had a bonfire and more dancing on the beach. A perfect end to magical solstice.
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