The headlights revealed only more sand ahead of us as we negotiated our way down the Mexican dirt road. As the passenger, my feet worked the phantom pedals. Tamar and I were both strangers here and we had no way of contacting our hosts somewhere there on the beach of the Sea of Cortez.
The street we were on had no signs. It abruptly turned to dirt and became uneven. We continued the perilous drive through the sand and rock outcroppings. The Mazda3 under Tamar’s guidance and my indigenous GPS tracked carefully; we swallowed our doubts and advanced on faith.
The printed directions given to us by our friends Tony and Sue included a Google Earth view of San Felipe and the web of dirt roads leading out to Cantu Cove. Volcanic boulders and aged plastic pieces marked our advance. Beyond the flood of our headlights, the night was darker against itself. The inkiness gave me the feeling of falling into that gaping mystery. The mountains blocked the twinkling of the stars I knew were there.
The small Mazda3 did not complain in the slightest, despite an occasional rasping sound from beneath where the rough road made contact. I was a passenger in my companion Tamar’s Chitty. She was a trooper and had a working knowledge of Spanish. We were told to stay to the right, even though the left turns might seem promising. We passed waving Chamisa, saltbush and mesquite as they witnessed our arrival. Out of the dark emerged a comforting sight: “Welcome to Cantu Cove” a sign proclaimed. It was like a Rez night drive without the pinyon, juniper and sagebrush. Past the washed-out bridge where the road dipped hard we saw a line of bungalows lit in the soft glow of solar lamp sticks. We had made it to our paradise.
Tony and Sue greeted us by flashlight. It was dark out there and I heard breaking surf. The solar lights cast a warm and hesitant glow as we met the rest of the cast on the shore. We secured our assigned bungalow then gathered in the glow of the campfire where friends—old and new—laughed, sang and told stories. We swapped our adventures of this trip into Baja. In the late night, dogs cast shadows into the sounding surf.
Our new friends, Christine and Raine made us laugh so hard with their stories. I said, “This is why I love the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers.” Three sets of amazing couples with as many dogs. I hear them late at night barking at coyotes. The hills embracing the cove made it seem so much more isolated even though the town is less than two miles away.
Two weeks earlier I was looking into some serious downtime during this winter, so the idea of getting away into a quieter and warmer clime seemed to be in order. I packed my bags and an Etch A Sketch and flew to San Jose, Calif. Santa Cruz to be exact. Actually, Capitola, where my sweet lady love resides. Capitola, a place in Upper Case we like to say as an outsider.
I admit I had some reservation about Mexico as a destination from all the brainwashing by the media. I also had very little working knowledge of the Spanish language. It was a good thing that Tamar spoke well enough to get us past security checkpoints and to deal with relentless vendors. Memories of crossing the border a few times in the past replayed in my head. One time years ago I was given a secondary search and the third degree, all because of my sheepskin sleeping pad. The guards handled it and asked why I carry animal pelts. I says, “cuz I am Dineh” and that is our traditional sleeping and yoga mat. He did not buy it. I said again that that is a piece of home and hearth I carry as a talisman as well. After inspecting it inside and discussing it, it was returned to me and I was on my way.
I took no sheepskin pelt this time. If I did, I’d stamp it with its place of origin: Product of the Great Western Navajo Nation.
We opted to drive to Mexico rather than fly and it proved to be a great idea. So with proper identification, insurance and my pollen bag we pointed the hood ornament south into adventure.
We rolled into L.A. in the evening and stayed a couple of days with another friend for a series of great and crazy dramas. I am followed by these kinds of adventures when I’m away from the Rez, it seems. Tamar and I were just an audience for this series of events.
We crossed the border at Mexicali. It was painless though the vision of my sheepskin danced mockingly in my head. We were on our way into unknown territory for both of us. As we drove away from the border city, our two-lane blacktop became more rustic and quiet. We passed open air restaurants and watering holes. Signs for Tecate and Corona dotted the shoulders of the road. There were ramshackle buildings and burned-out foundations. The lushness of the farming community soon gave way to a mountainous desert landscape and great salt flats shimmering in the evening light. Darkness descended with the military checkpoint in our rearview mirror and San Felipe in our windshield. It felt so foreign yet so familiar, like Kayenta’s haphazardness of structures. We drove past the American villages and into the heart of the city. The night air held many fragrances, from the saltiness of a coastal town to the candied scent of a vibrant community. This was the darkened city that would be splashed in colors and sound in the light of day. The headlights stabbed the darkness and all surfaces revealed their vibrant colors. The starlit sheen on the surface of the sea welcomed us.
Daybreak found us in awe of where we were. The dogs wagging their tails and Tony offering coffee and breakfast. Our hosts stayed on longer than their intended departure time and that was a gesture we appreciated. We became one family on that beach those few days we spent together. I enjoyed watching Raine disappear with the dogs in the early morning walks and the time I spent with the young boy showing him the magic of an Etch A Sketch. Panchito and I became quick friends. He reminded me of myself at that age. I gifted him that magic tablet and I hope he spends time meditating with it. Tony, of course was a great tour guide. We got to see places including an opportunity to hike back to the casitas because he ran out of fuel. Even that was an educational stroll.
It has taken me this long to go to Mexico, but I will go again. In more ways than one, I met my own people and my own purpose.
