Things were really heating up between me and my future hubby, Stix. It looked like this relationship might be pretty darn serious, as in walking down the aisle serious. So I did what any respectable girl about to get engaged would do. I grabbed a tent and booked a flight to Baja! How these notions grab a hold of me I'll never know. But, Lord Almighty they do. And ignoring them is the equivalent of trying to wrestle a bull to the ground.
I can't really account for these impulses, but in their defense, my travels and experiences have never seemed impulsive to me. They have all felt like very carefully, well-thought out chess moves. Ya know, free form, jazz-infused chess moves. But, hey, I was strategizin'!
And Baja was my next move. Kowabunga! Mexico here I come. I have a friend who used to travel to Baja each year with her surfer boyfriend. They would camp out, watch whales migrating and live off of the wild avocados, papayas and mangoes that abound there in a place called Todos Santos.
Todos Santos is a village on the Pacific side of the Baja peninsula about 45 miles north of Cabo San Lucas. You know, as in "Cabo Wabo", Sammy Hagar's bar where the tequila flows freely as "I Can't Drive 55!" plays on and on. Thinking back on this trip, I could have changed up the itinerary. Maybe just called up a couple of my girlfren's. Headed on down to Cabo. Chillaxed at a hotel and sipped margaritas while rockin' out to The Hagster, Poison and other hair metal bands at El CoboWabster.
But this journey was pretty much the complete polar opposite of that scenario. Somehow, communing with nature won out over jello shots. Hindsight, what can I say?
The plan, see, was to fly into Cabo with my guitar and tent and drive just north of Todos Santos to reach my destination, the magical oasis that my friend had waxed poetic about so many times.
Me and a hoard of sunblock toting tourists deboard the plane. It's warm and breezy. A white VW Bug with no roof, AT ALL, awaits me at the rent-a-car lot. Not the modern, cutesy-tootsie, dot-comer version, either. Just the OG, old school kind. Too cool, I'm thrilled!
Now, to the beach! Maps shmaps! Who needs them when you have directions that read something like, "drive about 5 miles, past the village, continue past the goat farm, make a left after the 4th mango tree, and drive til you see the ocean". No Problemo!
After a coupla hours of driving through a barren desert, Todos Santos appears. It's a really pretty town. It looks inviting and charming. I take mental note of a few bed and breakfast signs and keep on truckin' to be one with Mother Earth.
In a jiff, I'm counting one, two, three, four avocados trees and making a left. I see the ocean, I see the beach and uh, that's about it. There is NO ONE there but me. Cue the record scratch. Cue the cricket soundtrack. This was NOT the scenario that I had "planned" for. I assumed this beach was one big ol' year round, surfin' safari spot. I expected a sort of outdoor youth hostel filled with cool peeps and a communal campfire where we would all roast marshmallows and share our stories. W-T-F was I thinking!?
This was not at ALL how envisioned my last hurrah of singledom going down. I never thought to ask my friend if there was a high season here. I figured I would pull up to a magical oasis filled with people just like me! Pitch my tent and strum my guitar while gazing at the frolicking whales in the sea.
Come to think of it, even that idea was completely ridiculous! This place was not the My Little Ponies world of Unicorns and Sparkle Dust that I had imagined. It had a powerful ominous mojo vibe. It was creepsville, in a "Planet of the Apes" desolate kind of way. Like when Chuck Heston sees the Statue of Liberty's crown poking out of the sand.
Okay, what now?
Secretly, I wanted to do a donut in the "parking lot" and drive 55 right back to the airport. No one would ever have to know.
Oh, alright! I'll at least walk down to the water. It is gorgeous here and I felt obligated.
The waves in and around TS are known for there greatness and hugeness, and man, they did NOT disappoint. I'm no Laird Hamilton, but I don't mind big surf at all, I love it! Even in it's wild moments, the sea always seems spry and full of frivolity. Not these waves. This ocean was monstrous.
With surmounting fear and a side of vulnerability, I was both mesmerized and scared you-know-what-less, knowing a pack of rabid banditos would surely come running out of the bushes to get me or a rogue wave would swallow me whole or both!
I was sure that any minute the massive swells in front of me would gather into big scary arms and pull me under. So much for My Little Ponies. Get me the freakin' frack outta here!!
With the sand kicking up behind me, I high-tailed out of there in record time. No Bandidtos were gonna get the best of me! I still had yet to record my hits and walk down the isle!!
I jumped into The White Stallion and of course "click, click, click" the engine was not gonna start. Oh great! Just great.
This is where primal screams and channeling Sammy Hagar come in handy. I yelled that damn motor into starting, and she did. Thank you Jesus! Thank you Sparkle Dust! I knew you were looking over my shoulder the whole time! :)
The sun was setting as I drove back into the village of Todos Santos. I drove directly to the home made sign posted in the yard of a farm-like property that I had eyed on my initial ride through town. It read "Bed and Breakfast; Campers Welcome".
It was late, but luckily one of the proprietors was up. He greeted me with a friendly "Good evening" and allowed me to pitch my little yellow tent on their grounds for five clams a night. The next morning, over eggs and coffee, I mentioned that I wanted to surf. The husband, a hippy-ish ex-patriot, said he could take me to a spot that he liked. I borrowed a chewed up foam board from him (I still had my surfer training wheels on) and we were off.
It was one of those picture perfect days, sun shining and the crispest, blue-est of skies. We pull up to an absolutely stunning spot, where majestic mountains horse-shoe themselves around the ocean. The tealy-turquoisey sea was alive and back to her frivolous ways!
The B&B owner paddled way out to where some of the surfers were wearing helmets, can you say ominous? Not me, I played it safe and paddled out half way, to the happy, ankle-biting waves. Wow-wee, what fun! I caught myself giggling out loud with child-like glee. And get this, thousands of tiny fish were leaping out of the waves and bouncing off of my blue board. Every time I caught a wave there was a shimmering diamond-like explosion in the suns rays. Can you say "magical"?
I had gone from one extreme to the other in less than 24 hours, I was having my Unicorns and Rainbows moment after all!
Later that day I called Stix from a pay phone in town. I said "Hi honey" he greeted me with "You nut!". He watched me hatch this "plan" and carry it out without ever saying "Do you really think this is a good idea?" He knew me too well, he knew I'd survive and come back with a tale for the vault. What can I say, the guys gets me, that's worth a walk down the aisle.
But next time, when and if we ever re-new our vows, it's gonna be Margs and Vegas all the way Chicas y Chicos!!
