Sea Kayaking to Cabo San Lucas on Wetdawg.com

Pages » 1 2 3

Danzante Point
Photo by Heather Nelson
Click on pic for more
photos of Baja!

Tuesday, December 19, 2000 - Day 141
A Poem: "Baja Tragic"

In case you've had enough of all the Baja magic, we thought we'd fill you in on some Baja "tragic." Like the time we were soundly asleep on La Playa, when a coyote crept in and stole our papaya! On inflatable pads we've slept nightly for weeks, now both are full of uncountable leaks! Though sleeping 'neath the stars is restful and pleasing, the mornings are oftentimes downright freezing! The sunrises are awesome and always spellbinding, but the glare that follows is horrendously blinding! An ungraceful entry one morning he took; as he flipped upside down, with laughter I shook! The smell of red cedar filled the air one morning, for without so much as a moment's warning, and with a crack that would scare the b-jeebies out-o-you, my one-piece wood paddle had hence become two!

Every morning we paddle a mere hour or two, before I get the overwhelming urge to pee or poo! There's wind almost daily and man how it blows: it'll force the snot right back up your nose! A radio we hear so in-frequently, instead Brandon sings, quite off key! Although we get along with amazing grace, sometimes we do get in each other's face. 24/7 we're never apart, but at times we want to tear out each other's heart. Yet we resolve these conflicts as adults should do, and end up kissing and saying "I love you!"

Fishing boats don't always see us as they buzz around, and several times we've come close to being run down! Despite practicing with devoted persistence, we both remain horrible judges of distance: as a point that we'd swear is a mile away, still isn't reached at the end of the day.

Though our apparel keeps us warm and safe, it's also the cause of rashes and chafe! It was late afternoon as we left Mulege, my boat barely floating as we paddled away. The river was shallow, my boat overpacked, as my paddle scraped the bottom, the blade fully cracked! By the time we leave the water for the wind-swept dunes, our hands look and feel like soggy prunes. Our wounds are all open, oozing and wet: the sea hasn't let them heal quite yet!

The fishing is good, they're abundant you see, but the reef fish I spear behave unusually. Their insides seem sickly, their guts do stink. "What will happen if I eat this?" I can't help but think. Though they're tasty and numerous as drops of rain, eating fish has been causing me awful migraines!

The long days on the water never fail to excite us, but we often end the day sore from tendonitis! The long sandy beaches we think are great, it's the sand that gets in our food (water, boats, ears, hair, dishes, cook kit, clothes, sleeping bags) we really do hate! Don't misunderstand us, we don't mean to pout, that's not what this poem is all about. The incredible experiences have all been grand, but one thing's for sure: this ain't Disneyland!

WHALE ENCOUNTER! This morning, as bat rays flip-flopped around us like hot cakes at a diner, we were paid a visit by one of the earth's largest creatures: a giant grey whale. An amazing 100ft in front of heather's kayak, the monster breached just barely, a sign we interpreted as "get your camera folks, there's gonna be a show!" 10 seconds later as I clicked away it rose again, this time 1/2 the previous distance off her bow. In our front row seats we watched as nearly all of its massive form arched noiselessly from its world into ours. The finale was postcard perfect, as its tail rose and spread full width, waving us hello & goodbye.

The adventure continued as we pulled up to San Jose del Cabo (Our landings were both nice & controlled, I might add). Gawking gringos, fast moving traffic around every corner, guards shooing us off fancy hotel premises - it was major sensory overload. The experience peaked when we walked into the Mercado comun, an open air conglomeration of 10-12 tightly packed ristorantes. Within seconds they were on us like hounds at feeding time. From elderly, stooped over senoras to loud, desperate sounding hombres, representatives from ALL the different kitchens begged, promised the impossible, verbally groped for our business.

The effect was a mixture of confusion, guilt, claustrophobia and a total loss for words. We finally just took a place at the nearest table, more an act of defense than anything, and the pack around us immediately dissolved. A few minutes later, as we waited for our food, we watched a Hindi family of 3 fall prey to the attack. All 3 of them unwillingly ended up at different tables throughout the place, shouting to one another, as if their eventual reunion weren't altogether certain. The food, it turned out, was sensational!

The emotional rollercoaster began as we drove north through Baja, catching glimpses of the ocean here and there, hearing the wind dance with the palms as we camped out. We both awoke confused most mornings, wondering what strange place we were in, a place that wasn't a beach, our boats not right beside us.

We crossed the border on Jan 15th, and within hours I was on a plane for Tucson. It was our first parting of ways in 162 days. I felt in a daze as I walked through LAX in ragged shorts, salty shirt, sandals, and a small drybag as my only luggage. My mind and attire were still on expedition, and it was somehow comforting.

In a couple days I'll drive my truck full of bike gear and our dog Chili back to California, and Heather and I will begin the last part of the project: putting together packages of reviews and slides for all our sponsors, organizing slide shows, writing a few articles, and co-writing a book about our journey. It'll be trial and error, just as we didn't know for sure if we'd ever really make it to Cabo, but the philosophy remains the same: All glory comes from daring to begin.