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We spent the final night of the road trip in San Carlos. Today we’ll drive to Todos Santos, completing our 7000 mile meander. We were drawn to San Carlos for its name, not because we knew a thing about this small dot on a map facing a huge inland waterway. Perhaps we could recommend it to my papa, Carlos, or perhaps he has already seen it. In any case, its a waypoint that could reduce the six or seven hour drive from Laredo to TS by half. We rolled in with the dusk and parked by a bright orange palapa restaurant/hotel under construction, with a small parking pad facing the sea. Inches from the water, we gleefully watched the sun drop. Actually, we were looking for milk at that very moment, happy to be on our feet. I was satisfied to watch the orange glow of the setting sun on Michael and Jake’s faces. Already we love this place, with its pongas (skiffs) beached right beside waterfront homes. Down the beach there’s a fleet of very salty and rusty sardine seiners.
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.
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.
1 Comments
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