Sea of Cortez

Not all of our off-road wanderings led to the Pacific Coast of Baja. In fact the transpeninsular highway, MEX1, wanders from the Pacific side to the Cortez coast, crossing the wild and beautiful desert plains; and the rugged mountain ranges that form the spine of the peninsular. Adopting the same principle on the East coast as we had on the West, we looked for any side roads that might take us to the beach, and sure enough, there were beaches!

The Sea of Cortez had long held a fascination for us, not least because of the wild ravings of a certain Mr. Christopher Swann, reknowned cetacean expert and energetic explorer. Emails from him in recent years offered us a hint of the teeming marine wildlife to be found here. Nevertheless we were un-prepared for the extraordinary abundance we discovered on our first days camped on this coast.

Our first view of the sea as we descended the last few winding kilometers from the desert plateau: completely breathtaking. Islands enclosed the sweeping bay before us. The sea and sky locked in a tremendous argument, so it appeared, as to who could be the bluest. Hardly a breath of wind rippled the surface of the water, so that even at a distance of perhaps six or seven kilometers, it looked like a sheet of silk more than the ruffled, glinting surface one would expect of such a large body of water. Having crossed from a November Pacific, where there is never a dull moment on the surface of the water, this absolute flatness seemed almost artificial, as if in a slightly unrealistic painting.

It certainly looked inviting; and within a few minutes of pulling up at the shore, the children were snorkels-on and under water, trilling with the unbounded joy of finding the water temperature a full 5 or 6 celcius higher than the Pacific, no wetsuit required- at last!

We had stumbled across an excellent fishing camp, guided by the thoroughly researched Camping Baja and the excellent fishing bible Baja Catch. These along with the Surfers Guide have been indispensable companions for the journey (Most dog's ears would be insulted).

A few kilometers along the shoreline from the fishing camp, Bahia de Los Angeles boasts a quiet little Mexican town. A couple of hotels and the few expat. Gringoes dotted around in permenant motorhome-cum-palapas, supplement the income of local fishermen, the ubiquitous Pangueros. By and large however it is an unspoilt, working town, it's just in the most extraordinary location!

With Suzanne's birthday imminent, the children became increasingly anxious that the haul of trick-or-treating swag might be reduced this year, possibly even limited to the festering biscuits left in our own cupboards. We were all delighted therefore, to find that the Mexicans had discovered trick-or treating as well. It wasn't entirely clear whether the herd of children that arrived, well before dark, were only raiding gringos, or whether they were touring town as well, but either way the game was clearly on!

Suzanne of course had managed to conceal a stash of sweeties in case of need, and when our gang saw the sweets dissapearing from under their noses there was a scramble for costumes. We had taken advantage of the pre halloween hysteria in California and stocked up with hats, false teeth, horrid wigs, fake blood etc. and so off they set, sheepish parents in tow, for a tour of the campsite and nearby palapas. What had seemed like a hopeless cause turned into a bonanza in the most unlikely of settings.

And Swanny's wildlife ravings? Well of course it all turned out to be completely true. Within a couple of days we had caght ridiculous numbers of fish, swum with a pod of Whale sharks; and the children had become attuned, and savage enough, to be pulling Octupus from beneath the rocks with their bare hands, before gutting them on the spot with their teeth...think I'm joking?