The Flying MobulasWanna go see the Mobula jump?
...they fly through the air with the greatest of ease...
What a silly question. Of course I do.
Nothing is more amusing than watching thousands of rays the size of dinner plates hurl themselves out of the sea, to soar like birds.
It's unknown why they do this, but theories abound. Some believe it is some kind of mating ritual. He who smacks the water the loudest gets the most Mobula action?
Theory number two, it's a tactic used to scare the shit out of their food. Third, it's to rid themselves of parasites that don't appreciate aerobatic maneuvers. Fourth, they are trying to outsmart their natural predators. And lastly, they do it for the sheer pleasure of it. I'm going to go with that one.
I swear the Mobula splash down with a sheer glee. Do fish really have feelings?
I'd say yes. From a boat, they look like they are smiling as they soar. Here on the Sea of Cortez you see the darnedest things.
Jacques Cousteau christened this place "The World's Aquarium", and truly it is. Not only is the area rich with biodiversity, but its stunningly beautiful.
Flying Rays or Mobulas are close
cousins to the massive Manta Rays. They swim in schools around the Baja feeding on zooplankton and tiny crustaceans when the ocean temperatures change in May and again in November. These little buggers are super amusing and absolutely essential to the ecosystem, but like everything else, are under serious threat. They often get caught up in the illegal drift nets and tossed back as by-product waste. Seeing they only give birth to one pup per year, they will easily be the next on the endangered species list.
Poaching and Pollution and Over-Fishing are literally killing the Sea of Cortez. Fast.
So much so that Greenpeace has posted one of its Sea Shepherd vessels to oversee and witness this crisis. The ominous MV Sharpie moors near my house in San Jose del Cabo as it conducts harassment sorties against the local fishermen who are just trying to eek out a measly living. It's a heartless battle with no winners.
Again, it comes down to the privileged rich against the struggling poor, a familiar war waged within Mexico. The drug war had that exact formula, and look how well that went. As long as there is an insatiable demand
Too Cool for School
They guys float under the surface with such grace
for illicit drugs or endangered fish in North America, Mexico is doomed to be bullied and aggressively destroyed. Ok so! Off my soapbox for now.
Another perfect day here on the Baja. Blue skies, sandy beaches, and turquoise seas. My friend J and I decide it's time for an adventure. Usually nothing gets me out of my hammock midday, but the Mobula? I'm packing my cooler. Vamos!
It's also the day before Easter weekend, or Santo Semana as it's known in these parts, and it is kind of a big deal. Kids get a week off school and I'm pretty sure every family has one thing in mind. Vamos a la playa!
Any spot along the coastline of Los Cabos resembles a mini carnival.
At Shipwrecks, an elaborate flotilla of tents goes as far as the eye can see. There are gangs of elderly women cooking in military grade kitchens, set up with precision under gigantic blue tarps to block out the sun. No one ever ties anything down properly. The smell of charred meats wafts along the horizon. Someone actually drove a water truck as far as they could before it got stuck.
Another Tequila sunset
Such a beautiful site at happy hour on the Marina in SJD.
As expected, there is a music competition between the families. Who can play their favorite song the loudest?
I'm not entirely sure why, but there is a huge freshwater wading pool dug out in the sand inches from the shore, lined with black plastic. Everywhere you look, young men in black with white socks and shower slippers are drinking beer and digging out vehicles stuck in the dunes. Gangs of kids run amok in beach gear. Someone is making useless announcements over a loudspeaker from the Cielo truck that meanders along the roadway. Family pets travel in stray packs looking for handouts. It's all stimulus overload.
I prefer the solitude and serenity a little farther out and Cabo Pulmo is that perfect spot.
From San Jose del Cabo it's about an hour and a half drive East on the two lane highway, headed for Los Barriles.
You could go the other way...the old road is a twisty bumpy dirt track that skirts the scenic edge of the sea, but it is mostly washboard and potholes that will jiggle your wobbly bits in an unsightly manner. Or worse, flatten your beer. Plus it takes forever.
Welcome to the national reserve for marine life
quicker choice takes you through the middle of the Baja Sur, past the Tropic of Capricorn (a small rest area with monument officially marks the spot) drive until the turn off for La Ribera appears. After going through town you'll have to backtrack the old dusty roadway to get to Cabo Pulmo, which takes about half an hour.
Beware. There isn't much in Cabo Pulmo. A few dive shops, a handful of restaurants that open when they feel like it, a tiny Tienda that charges Gringos mucho dinero for snacks or beverages. You are better off stopping in La Ribera for supplies, I highly recommend bringing your own food and drink. Make sure you top up the Gasolina too.
Cabo Pulmo is completely off grid, and they desperately try to conserve electricity, and water, and nature.
I rented us a typical Mexican casita with a palm frond roof for $50 a night through Air BnB. It was basic, basic.
Translated: one step up from a tent. However, I appreciated the nice hammock on the breezy second floor and a fridge to store my food. And the heated showers. But they shut the electricity off in the night
Playful wet dogs, I find they try to eat my camera . Don't know why.
to conserve it, so that means no fans, no charging the iPhone, and all the freezer stuff was melted by the morning.
In 1995, the Mexican Government set Cabo Pulmo aside as a National Marine Park Reserve. Thank God. It's one of the last places left on the Baja that is still in fairly pristine shape.
Subtle changes have been going on everywhere else. For example, all the majestic Cardon cactus on the Baja have been dug up and stolen for landscaping projects. Here they still stand stoic. In Cabo Pulmo, plenty of turtles still crawl out of the sea every summer to lay their eggs, in the Los Cabos region, there are none. Here, at least twenty road runners will cross in front of your vehicle. In Los Cabos, they're all flattened.
But, best of all, in Cabo Pulmo there are gigantic schools of Mobula that play in the surf every evening. They sound like popcorn popping as they simultaneously hit the surf. In Los Cabos you may see the odd confused Mobula jump, probably looking for his campadres he left in Cabo Pulmo.
J slips our ex-fisherman guide Samuel some pesos and he goes
The best little swim beach in Cabo Pulmo
to fetch his truck. The Don Chuy is backed out into the waves, and I take up position at its bow. I'm watching keenly as the Panga glides through an ocean of glass. The sun has started its dip towards the horizon. It's happy hour for the Mobula
. Same for us. We crack a few beers while we scan.
And right on queue. There they go.
J and I both start to giggle, we'd been listening to that song from Men Without Hats on the drive up. Pop Goes the World.
After their mesmerizing show, we slip into the ocean to do a little snorkel with them. Underwater they look like a flock of birds soaring on a breeze. J says it's time to go in, and I pout a little. We return inland just before the horizon falls off the earth.
Cabo Pulmo is a ghost town. That's because everyone is at Tito's for his Thursday night Americanized buffet. J and I decide to have dinner at El Caballero. It's a bit rustic but the food is very tasty. I had Chili Rellenos stuffed with seafood, and the red sauce was
Stop following me you Asses
The wild burros just seem to know when I have carrots in my pockets.
to die for. J had a whole seasoned red snapper. Lots of margaritas and lots of chats with the locals before we walk back.
In the desert where there is no light pollution, the star display overhead is unbelievable.
I'm always surprised at how many scuba divers are here from France but then I'm like, oh right
, Jacques Cousteau. We can hear a party of about 30 of them drinking wine and nattering away in the big courtyard garden next to ours. My rusty French translates for J some pretty excited verdicts of their day, and Cabo Pulmo, c’est magnifique! I wish we could join them and go for a dive, but J doesn't have his Padi and I'm trying to save money for my next big trip.
We spend the night in our hammock imagining what it would be like to live in Cabo Pulmo full time. It seems so peaceful here.
The next day we discover not all is as it seems in Hippy-Ville.
Two Expats are yelling at each other over a comical two foot high fence. I lay there contemplating an intervention, but the colourful language is actually amusing. One Expat
Last of the Great Cardons
Sadly, all the native cactus are being dug up and sold to resorts, there are hardly any left.
is accusing the other Expat of going on FB and spreading lies about him. From what I can gather, the Expats that live on the ocean's edge have built cement walls to block everybody's access to the beach. Newsflash: They can't do that.
In Mexico all beaches are public property.
So in retaliation, the offended Expats rolled gigantic boulders to block the offending Expats vehicles. So now they can't drive up to their ocean front properties. Ha! Take that!
Then they all argue about it on social media. Until it boils over. Which brings us back to 7 am today. No thanks.
Entitled Americans and Canadians living together in Mexico is just a recipe for disaster.
But since we're up, we might as well go for a hike into the scenic desert before the sun gets too high in the sky. The hiking trails are close to town, well marked and easy to follow. It is important to watch where you walk, a lot of things want to kill you out here. But the panoramic views are so worth it.
Wild Burros follow us back towards town. J can't figure out why, until he catches
me sneaking carrots to them from my backpack. My reputation as the burro whisperer, blown.
Later in the afternoon, after a mandatory siesta in our hammock, we decide to drive to Arbolitos for a dip in the ocean. It's easy to get to. Head west, and follow the weathered signs. That is, if a hurricane hasn't taken out the official park signage. Follow a washboard track all the way down the hill. You'll have to drive though someone's ranch, and dodge a few cows and angry dogs. Don't worry, you have right of access. Everyone does. On most days, the rancher's son will be there with a clipboard, ready to take 40 pesos for you to park. Do it. It pays for the upkeep of the beach and gives you access to change rooms/bathrooms, and sometimes even, a food vendor.
Usually, there is no one here at Arbolitos beach...but it is Easter weekend, so....chaos.
I highly recommend this beach because it has a reef just off the shore. If you like to snorkel you will see many massive fish loitering, and it's a real treat to see how large they can really get, when not over-fished.
The Roadrunner, or Corre Camino is a sneaky little bugger who likes to play chicken with your 4x4.
Also, a few turtles bob around in the background. Or a seal playfully comes in for a better look.
For some reason, the ocean temperature has been quite cold this year, odd for April. Oh global warming, you made up crisis you.
I'm glad I brought my wet suit with my snorkel gear. It was needed!
A local family who is tenting next to where we set up our beach umbrella, wave and come over with red solo cups full of freshly made ceviche. I take one gracefully, but worry the fish might be caught from within the national park, which goes against everything I was soap boxing about earlier.
While J and I are having an animated debate in English on this very subject, the father wanders over and reassures us that he caught it this morning outside the park. He shows me on a map where. Turns out he is a chef at one of the restaurants in Los Cabos and begins to talk about seafood sustainability with a passion. I stand down
And just like that the weekend was over. I'd like to stay in Cabo Pulmo for a few more
Dry and Hot
As April turns to May, the desert dries out and becomes brown and dead looking. But it is still as alive as can be.
days but we need to go back to Los Cabos. J has work, and I must continue my volunteering gig at a local community center.
Besides, Cabo Pulmo, and the Mobulas, will still be here when I return. I hope.
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