Sea Kayaking to Cabo San Lucas on Wetdawg.com

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Saturday, November 18, 2000 - Day 107

It was a magnificent day! After being forced off the water by a norther at 8am yesterday, we decided we'd start early today, weather permitting, and put the wall behind us. We woke at 3am to a calm, cool morning. We were on the water by 4am. We paddled 5 hours, stopping only to fuel our bodies with peanut butter tortilla wraps Brandon made the night before. We had made it to Punta Remedios, and the official end of the wall. We pulled off at a sandy beach for quesadillas and a breather, and then we were off into the most amazing scenery we'd seen yet. It felt like we'd entered paradise.

Our boats silently sliced through the glassy water, leaving 2 small wakes trailing behind us. Through translucent waters we could see the vivid colors of the fish below us. Islands dotted the coast, and the shore was covered with white sand beaches.

As thrilled as we were to explore the endless abyss of beauty, it seems we were drawing some attention as well! Two flying fish wanted a closer look at me, as one landed in my lap and the other nailed my hand! A sea lion stared curiously at us with his big brown eyes before continuing on his way. A dolphin jumped 10 ft behind my boat, then, what I thought to be a rock turned out to be a giant turtle swimming beside my boat. He lifted his head long enough for me to snap a few close-ups. But the best was when a flying manta ray rose from the depths of the sea like he'd been shot from a cannon, disappeared, then made a second and final appearance, leaving our jaws hanging wide open.

The day went on like this - perfect conditions, an abundance of wildlife, and picture-perfect scenery.

-- Heather

Friday, November 24, 2000 - Day 112

On the second day of our bike ride, up in Montana, we met the Peter Busch family camped out at Red Meadow Lake. In the midst of our conversation, Peter made the comment, "You WILL see a grizzly out here!" I clearly remember, rather than conjuring up an image of a bear, his statement struck me as unusually similar to a comment made to me weeks before, in Sacramento, by a fishing tackle salesman, "You WILL hook into a shark out there!" The way they each stressed, "WILL" was identical, and since that day we indeed saw a grizzly, I've been waiting to see about that shark. Today may have been the day. I say may have because I didn't land it, but the story is still worth telling.

Low sunrise
Photo by Heather Nelson
Click on pic for
more photos of Baja!

We had just finished a 2-hour crossing of Bahia las Animas, and had resumed paddling after a stretch on the beach. I've had most of my luck fishing in shallow, rocky waters, and wondered if I was presently wasting my time, as the vertical cliffs 50 feet away seemed to keep heading straight down where they met the water. I was trolling a silver and blue rapala about 30 ft back, the rod in its holder just in front of my paddling range. Then - zzziinggg! The reel whined for a full 5 seconds before letting up. A moment later it took off again. Heather and I looked at each other, eyes and jaws agape. I would've reached for the rod and gotten on with the fight, but like I said, I was a mere 50ft from shore, and 1-2 ft rollers were coaxing me that way. If I grab the rod, that means I ditch the paddle - and control of my boat. I thought it better to try heading out a bit first.

While the rod bent over into a question mark, the reel whining out occasional line, I tried to head out further. Nothing doing! I was the one being towed. Minutes passed and no, I still hadn't picked up the rod. Was I a bit frightened, you wonder? I was. I didn't really like the thought of bringing an angry, god-knows-how-big, flesh-ripping beast up to the side of my low-slung craft. By this point we'd come by another, much smaller beach, and I thought to try landing the monster there, me out of my boat. I sent Heather in first, and saw the landing to be unusually steep and pounded by surf. Her boat swamped before she could haul it out of the waves, and as she wrestled it I paddled in. On shore, the rod end still jerking, I ran over and helped heather, then raced back, and for the first time, took hold of the rod.

It may as well have been hooked into a whale! The rod bent over into a tight arc as I strained to keep it upright. I fooled with the drag, trying to find the balance between tiring the beast and sparing my gear. I couldn't believe the line or rod hadn't snapped! As Heather shot photos, I continued the game of tug-o-war. God, what a setting it was: a 40 foot wide steep pebble beach surrounded by sheer cliffs on 3 sides, and being loudly pounded by surf head on! As I fought to land the "fish" it occurred to me that if I did succeed in pulling it in, what then? Surely Heather and I couldn't eat the leviathan! And how does one "catch & release" Jaws?

Nonetheless, the fight raged on. Then the beast made the witty move of wrapping the line on a rock. I could still feel his pull, but it was obvious there was something wrong. I tried to give him slack, so as to free the line, and in doing so I ended up with a tangled mess on my reel. I kept at it for 5 minutes or so, then decided to play a new angle and re-launch. Heather helped cast me out into the waves, and I reeled in slack in between paddle strokes as I made my way out. I tried circling around the snagged rock, and in doing so realized the tangle on the reel was keeping the drag from working: line could still come in, but none could play out. When the beast pulled, my kayak nearly flipped, and I braced to stay upright! This happened 3 or 4 times, and as my heart threatened to pound itself right out of my chest, I chose to surrender, and cut the line.

I never got a look at the giant sea creature, whatever it was, but I know this: there WILL be others!

The past 3 days have been some of the most interesting of the trip. In fact, Saturday won votes from both of us for the best day of paddling yet! An honor made even greater when you consider that we went less than a mile before making camp. The setting was centered around Punta Pulpito - a 500' tall vertical-walled headland that's been called the most easily identified landmark on the Sea of Cortez. Friday night we had camped just north of the point, and were intrigued by the inter-connecting caves surrounding our beach.

Upon setting out the next morning, we immediately came upon more coastal caves, and these could be paddled into! Growing narrower, they wound into the earth. We'd stow our paddles and crawl on our hands along the ceilings til their ends. Several kinds of crabs scuttled along the walls as we explored, adding to the already eerie, unworldly noises that filled the rock rooms. We wished we'd brought a recorder to take inside with us, as there's no way words could define what we were hearing.

As we slowly made our way towards Pulpito, the sky filled with the deepest red we'd seen in a sunrise, and the distant barking of sea lions barely broke the silence. On the point itself, we were amazed again by a huge rock tunnel that we did loops through while shooting photos. The water at this point was as clear as ever, and filled with myriad tropical fish of all colors and shapes. I don't think we stopped laughing the whole time; it was completely unbelievable! A couple hundred yards further presented another tall rock arch, unique and photogenic as the first. We'd shot over three rolls of film since we set out an hour earlier. We then spotted a 1/2 mile long white sand beach amidst all the glory; we knew we'd found our camp. There, we hiked a trail that led to the summit of Pulpito, went snorkeling time and again, and found some great bouldering along the water's edge.

However, the cherry on top came that afternoon when a "herd" of well over 100 dolphins swam by our camp. Many took turns launching themselves free of the water, landing with a huge splash. Then, the lead dolphin, at the point of the entire crowd, rocketed twice as high as any other, landing nose first with hardly a splash!!! Pure la-la land!