By Jill Irwin
We sit circled around a beach fire, faces lit by the waning flames, entranced by the rhythms of our percussion jam session. Overhead zillions of stars shine brilliantly in the Baja sky through the diaphanous stretch of the Milky Way. Five of us remain awake on this vernal equinox to celebrate the coming of spring; together we blend into one chaotic yet strangely harmonic convergence of sound that echoes up the arroyo behind us and drifts back out into the bay.
____________________________________________________________________
When I decide that I simply must go sea kayaking in Baja for spring vacation, it’s so last minute that nobody can join me. Well, my sister could, but when I say, “camping,” she asks “Where would I go to the bathroom?” So I check out group trips, uneasy about vacationing with people I’ve never met. But when I talk to Gabriola Cycle & Kayak, they’re so friendly that I sign up.
As I wait to board the plane to Mexico, I eye my fellow passengers, picking out the kayakers with their chunky sport sandals and baggy shorts. Once on board, I’m next to a fiftyish man wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with “Ouzo Power.” I’d already pegged him as a sport fisher, but he turns to me and says “Are you on the Gabriola kayak trip, too?” Jim, who manages a family counseling center, turns out to be a kind man with an unexpected, sly sense of humor. I like him immediately.
As our plane descends into Loreto, on the Sea of Cortez, a stark, dramatic landscape lies below. Jagged peaks slice through the electric blue sky; a moon-shaped bay forms a perfect circle on small island not far offshore. An intricate pattern of ripples covers the azure sea surface.
Our first evening together, we camp at a hacienda run by expatriate Norte Americanos. I assess our group—a twentysomething couple on their honeymoon, a couple in their thirties, three solo women, two solo men, and two male guides—and decide it’s a good gender balance.
Morning arrives with sunshine and warm, dry air. As we load our camping gear into the boats on the beach, I snag a single kayak. But our amiable guide Jim says, “You’ll be switching between single and double kayaks to mix it up, so don’t get too attached to your boat.” Mary, an athletic blonde fortysomething who looks great in a bikini, immediately leads the pack as she charges off paddling toward Isla Coronado, our first destination. Even though I’m a veteran kayaker, she intimidates me.
Our first campsite is on the circular bay I’d seen from the plane. Conversation doesn’t flow easily around the evening campfire—we’re still sizing each other up. I head to my tent early and read.
By the second day, as we begin to relax into the pace of rising early and paddling in the mornings, personalities are revealed. I’m paired today with David, a former advertising executive, now a Zen Buddhist and volunteer for stroke victims. He tells me his epiphany to step off the fast track came on a trip to Alaska when an eagle feather spoke to him. “It was time to be of service to others.” He’s a cool guy.
Our guides are low key yet helpful. During the four-hour crossing to Isla del Carmen, they paddle up to each of us occasionally to see how we’re doing. Their attitude helps the group settle into an easy camaraderie. Guide John has brought a bag of percussion instruments for campfire entertainment, and Jim engages anybody willing in a game of dice. (Next Page, click link below…)
More on Whales, A Witch, and Wonderful Weather: Group Sea Kayaking in Baja