Raul, the maitre’D of Mar y Arena welcomed us to park here and told us that the vast inland waterway fronting San Carlos is Baja's biggest Gray Whale nursery. We decided to visit with him over a drink. Raul described the friendliness of Gray Whales, how you can touch them from a boat, how they fast till they return to Alaska in summer to feed on crill. We could sit there for hours. But after an appetizer of deep fried tortilla chips and salsa and a glass of wine, I just wanted to lay down and listen to the sea. With the windows open, and a gentle breeze rocking our tin cradle like the boats around us, it was a delicious night. I slept like a puppy in dreamy spells. I woke to Michael and Jake running around the beach like fireflies, followed by puppet play on the nearest structure. They were wired up on football, headlamps, open sand and filling dinner of chocolate clams. I fell asleep again and woke to waves and rain. Michael was lowering the skylight and talking about a white horse he saw running on the water.
I had wild dreams of hiking with Michael to a remote fish camp and then clawing hand over fist up a mountain to sit on a high ridge where we watched a wolverine chase a wolf. Then we slid down the mountain in search of a cabin where I heard someone had been living. We slogged through frozen grass and snow drifted trails to a clearing. There was a half-constructed home on a platform littered with smoking sculptural effigies, scarecrows to some identity the squatter had abandoned perhaps a day before. I was concerned that he had take his own life.
In the light of day, my head has turned 180 degrees back from my strange dreamtime. Michael and Jake are simplifying proper fractions. We’ve had breakfast and soon we’ll roll. I see a small white boat bobbing on the horizon. Is that the thing Michael thought was a horse?
“I tell you guys, boats don’t run! This thing was running like a spirit on the sand.”
Jake tackles him, laughing. He’s so excited to get to Todos Santos. He’s put his best button down shirt.