Dolphins in training

We took our friends and neighbors, the Marsings, on a boat outing today. We headed to Puerto Escondido for gas and then over to Honeymoon Bay on Danzante Island where there were a lot of mother dolphins and calves. I think they like the protected and calm area around Danzante where they can teach their young. We tried to get photos, but I found it difficult to catch one in flight. I got a lot of shots of tails mostly. They are all so young and not yet as robust and acrobatic as the mature dolphins you see further out. As they mature they get more playful around a speeding boat where they will ride the bow and leap high into the air.

In a neighborhood such as Loreto Bay giving directions to one's house is difficult. Although the alleys are named, no one seems to remember or know what the are. In fact I don't even know what ours is called. There is probably a plaque on the opposite end on some side of another house.

Our general description is that we are on the Paseo alongside the commercial spaces, a few blocks down from Evan and Julie's general store toward the hotel in the white house with all the bicycles out front and beside probably the biggest monster ficus tree on the boulevard. "Oh, that tree!" The tree threatens to overtake our home; it grows by bounds every year and to my knowledge hasn't been groomed since the LB development began. It's also the gathering place of the neighborhood's feathered creatures. We are awakened by the riot of what sounds like a thousand chattering birds each morning.

At least we have landscaping. Overall our home and surrounding environs are in a finished state and that feels nice after the first few years of perpetual construction and dust. Now all we complain about is the barren state of the Paseo hoping that it will be paved someday soon. We met a family last week that just took possession of their home in Agua Viva. They were so elated even if they were living through major construction all around them. That's kinda the way it has to be in the beginning years here, but little by little it's coming together. I sense things growing more solid regardless of the development being stymied by ownership issues. Homeowners I know appear relaxed and reassuring about the future of this village.

Loreto has noticeably improved over the five years we've owned our home. The streets and parts of the highway are improved. The stores are stocking more items we desire. The newly opened terminal at the airport is impressive and functional. Closer to home, Evan and Julie's store is a godsend. How nice it is to walk a few blocks for a half gallon of milk or a bag of ice. They even have Grey Poupon! The Community Center is open and running, thanks in great part to Camille Kelly. There is a committee working to organize its functions. It's open for various activities like Zumba and bridge games and anything else homeowners would like to see happen. Its a good start.

By the way, my husband and I are hosting an Easter social this Sunday at 1:00pm. Just a casual occasion to stop in, eat a cookie, say hello to a neighbor and if you have little ones--join in on an easter egg hunt. If you're coming bring two dozen of something sweet to share.

Whale watching

We took the boat out on a search for whales yesterday. Between Coronado and Carmen Island we encountered a pod of what I believe was fin whales. There may have been five or more; it's hard to get a correct count when they don't all emerge together! I'm sure they weren't blue whales which are much larger and thicker. These whales didn't seem to mind our presence, though they weren't the least bit interested in us like gray whales can be.
The one photograph I captured of a whale's head was overexposed, so I've converted it to b/w to see better. Maybe someone who's certain about the identification can confirm or correct my guess of fin whale.

The view from here

Loreto again! After many months home in the States, we find ourselves back in the warm sun and under the perpetual blue skies of Baja California. No decompression time needed--we were straight to the swimming pool, our ghostly white bodies attracting every UV ray in the vicinity.

Getting here was no piece of cake. We couldn't find available seats on Alaska Airlines so we took the back door in to Baja via American Airlines from Kansas City through Dallas to San Jose Del Cabo where we would spend the night before boarding a 12-passenger plane on AeroCalafia to Loreto the next day. We stayed the night at the lovely and quaint Tropicana in San Jose Del Cabo. In the morning the front desk phoned promptly at 7:45 a.m. to announce the arrival of our driver. He loaded us up and off we went to the airport. However; I did not realize that there are actually two airports in Cabo. Our taxi dropped us off at the larger airport in San Jose Del Cabo. AeroCalafia flies out of a smaller airport in Cabo San Lucas. Now we had only one hour to get there. Off we raced in a taxi that kept stalling at stop lights requiring us to transfer midway into another one. Our new driver, genuinely concerned with delivering us on time, raced through back streets avoiding construction zones and street lights, but I never felt anxious. This is Mexico--everything is an adventure. I mentally began imagining Plan B which consisted of another night in Cabo, this time closer to the little airport. Allie's faith in Mexico insisted on the positive: "Mom, we're going to make it." Once I saw our driver making the sign of the cross which made me grin big for his determination. Now I wanted us to make it for his sake alone.

We made the airport five minutes before the plane was to take off. And the amazing and wonderfully Mexican thing is: they waited for us. Somehow we, our five pieces of overweight luggage (for which we were charged $187USD extra), and our tousled little dog managed to get on-board. The plane, a Cessna Caravan (I think it's called) was actually a nice, comfortable ride. I had fretted a bit about being a passenger in a Mexican operated airline. In all things Mexican, I'm wary regarding safety standards. The night I booked the flight I actually spent an hour or more pouring over YouTube videos on "How to land a small plane in an emergency"as if I could prepare myself for the worst. But once in the air, after some observations that the rivets in the wing looked firm and the the wheels in the landing gear weren't flat and the six other passengers were complacent and nodding off to sleep, I relaxed. Our pilot seemed competent enough (he was always adjusting or moving some lever which made him appear alert enough to me.)

We flew at a fairly low altitude which allowed me study the terrain below, a welcome distraction. I examined the shapes and characteristics of the peninsula wondering what formed the mesas and coastal mountains I was seeing. Was it plate tectonics? Volcanic? Was it all underwater and rise? Or did most of it sink into the sea leaving just this narrow boney finger of landmass? Where was Google when I needed it? At one narrow point along the peninsula I could see both the Pacific and the Sea of Cortez. One big Pacific wave could certainly reach the other shore, couldn't it? What a strange barren land. Is there anything alive out there? And then suddenly, we were above familiar territory. There is life ahead: the islands Monserrat and Danzante on the right and the jagged peaks of the Sierra La Giganta on the left, the boats in Puerto Escondido and suddenly the green spread of Loreto Bay, a little dot of emerald in the dried-mud pallet. Hurray. Home.

Really? I'm cheering for this, my second home, my adopted home most unlike my first in every way. It exists for my pleasure and survives my neglect. How did I ever find it in this weird spiny backbone of earth? Odd as it seems I claim it as belonging to me. I know I have some ownership of it, but that's an arbitrary claim. I've staked it, but it's too wild to be tamed. I see that from here in the air. From up here its obvious. My home is in a precarious state of vulnerability. We can build walls and roofs and swimming pools and the appearance of containment, but we are living in a remote and barren piece of earth. All the real living is at its edge--in the sea. Without the sea it might as well be Mars.

But now we're landing and the focus changes. The elements of the living fill my scope and snap me out of this trance. Palm trees and an airport terminal. A couple of Mexican soldiers on the tarmac. Security personnel and baggage checks. Order and processes. A green lawn and streetlights. A refrigerator and a half gallon of cow's milk. That's the view of home from down here. We're home. We're safe.

Putting it to rest

Now that we are settled back home I will not be posting for awhile. I can't see why anyone would be too interested in our day-to-day activities now that we are not Airstreaming nor hanging our in Loreto. As far as living in Baja California, we are not planning any more long stays. Allison is enrolled in school here in our home town. It's time to settle down a bit after four years "on the road."

We are planning another foray on the road next summer. We would like to take our Airstream on an eastern route, maybe through the Appalachian mountains and up the eastern coast into Canada. I'll want to journal our travels so I expect I'll start blogging again. But till, then I'm going underground. I'm happy to be home among old friends and my grown sons.

In praise of Durango

My new favorite town in America: Durango, Colorado. Cool, green, clean, scenic. The town has just the right amount of western flavor and modern athleticism, my favorite combo. The Animas River runs through town attracting rafters and kayakers. And, of course, there is the famous Durango & Silverton steam train which brings thousands of visitors to the area each summer.

There is a wonderful walking path alongside the Animas dotted with public parks and art. The day was beautiful. People were out on bikes and the river full of people floating in inner tubes. We strolled unknowingly upon a music festival at the Rotary Park where Allie climbed an aspen tree for a better view of the gazebo where players performed Peter and the Wolf. We asked an older couple, long-time residents, for a recommendation on where to go for lunch. Rather than explain, they insisted we hop in their car (an old Cadillac) to be dropped off door-side to Guido's, a cute Italian eatery on Main Street.

All day long Allison and I were singing the praises of Durango and wishing aloud that we could live there. And it did seem like the sirens of Durango were conspiring to lure us to stay. We joked and made references to the Chevy Chase movie, "Funny Farm," where he pays the townspeople to behave as quaint and charming as possible to lure a buyer for his house. It seemed that everyone in Durango was friendly, polite, and attractive.
We did, of course, ride the Silverton train. We opted for the bus ride up and the train ride back. The ride is long, but not dull if you like scenery. We were constantly on the look-out for wildlife and other interesting sights. Besides the gorgeous views of rushing waters and rustic train trestles and enormous drop-offs we saw a bear, deer, prairie dogs standing at attention, and the wildest of wildlife, the young folks floating the river who greeted the passing train by pulling down their swim trunks and mooning us.

Our stay in Durango was short. We next headed toward Silverthorne, Colorado where we spent the past week enjoying more wonderful weather and pine-infused atmosphere. And today I write from the worn sofa of my "permanent" home. Naturally, it's late and everyone's asleep (I'm the night-owl.) The Airstream is parked in the driveway until we get it unloaded. It stands as a beacon to the neighborhood that the wanderers are home at last. At least I think they see it that way. Could be, they're wondering how long that thing will sit in the drive.

I'll probably stop writing as I take time to readjust to home and fall back into the comfortable rhythms of normal life. So, until later, goodnight America.

Getting up to Speed

Back to Airstreaming again. We left Loreto and flew to San Diego where we picked up our Airstream trailer and visited friends and family. We visited my mother in Arizona, showed Allie the Grand Canyon and Four Corners, and now we are set up in Durango, Colorado where we'll ride the train to Silverton and back just for fun before continuing on towards home.

Finally we are in temperatures below 100F. Our last stop was in Cameron, AZ near the Canyon where the wind blows like a furnace and we run the A/C runs continuously or risk roasting in our tin can. Once we passed through Cortez, Colorado and entered into the San Juan mountain range the world turned green again. Pines and ponderosa, creeks and rivers replaced the stony plains of Navajo country, beautiful in it's own way, but untouchable. The occasional monument of weathered stone was awe-inspiring looking like sculpture or an emergent ancient skyscraper. Traveling on Highway 160 we just skimmed the edge of the valley. I know we missed a lot by scooting past, but we were weary of our days of heat and driving. We did make an obligatory stop at the site of the Four Corners and took the obligatory photo on the cement slab marking the four states' touching border: Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, Colorado.

Of course, the Grand Canyon was incredulous if not predictable as Robert and I have seen it several times. We again, took photos at the exact spot behind the Tovar Hotel that we took on our honeymoon, and at later dates with our sons. But this time our souvenir purchase wasn't an Indian craft or tee-shirt, but a book titled, "Death in the Grand Canyon," a compilation of tales of stupidity really; as in people falling off ledges while showing off or taking photos. I read the best parts out loud from Cameron to Kayenta until I finally tired of the grim subject.

The past two weeks have been a blur of geography, climate, and activities. Many mornings I awoke in confusion as to where I was. Usually, the shock of re-entering American culture after many months in Mexico is something I get to ruminate over, but this rapid sprint leaves no time to process anything. I'm functioning from memory: Grocery carts, drive-throughs, stop-lights, mall traffic, American currency, GPS programming, wi-fi hotspots, Starbucks blends, paper or plastic?, I'm regaining my fluency. But like riding a bike, it all comes back to you.

The rewards

Seven months in Loreto Bay, now it's time to go home. This marks our fourth winter living in our little casa. We've built another life here full of friends and adventures; it feels more like home all the time. I think this was our most enjoyable visit ever. Our sons spent Christmas with us, Beau bringing his fiance, Karly along. Our younger son came here for his summer internship at Dolphin Dive. He was great fun to have around. I hope it's a summer he'll cherish even if it meant he had no friends to hang with and he had to live with his parents.

We hiked, biked, kayaked, fished, played tennis, golf, went boating. We saw every type of marine life in the Sea of Cortez including an orca whale and her calf. On our last outing we encountered a pod of pilot whales that took a curiousity to us. A few of them came within feet of the boat to catch a closer look at us. We were celebrating Independence Day with the Brown family. The whales were our fireworks; we oohed and aahed at the thrill of these magnificent creatures breaking the water's surface. We've had lots of experiences like that.

If you just stay in one place long enough interesting things happen, maybe not every day, but often enough. I remember one day when a hummingbird landed on my finger. He was either too trusting or too young to understand what he'd done. That one thing made my day. Those occurrences are reward for the patience of living through the boring days, the days there's nothing much to do. There are no movie theaters, book stores, shopping malls. We create most activities ourselves like having friends to dinner and cards or tennis. At least Robert created a job for himself by teaching English to the kids at the Internado. (My job was our co-op homeschool.)

Now we head home and pick up again on our other life. I'm ready. I'm ready for the over-stimulation and assault of abundance. I'm ready for some "noise." But, more than that I'm ready for some good American eats. I'll let an In-n-Out cheeseburger make my day. See, I've learned to appreciate the little things.

Coronado Island drama

We've made two excursions taking friends to Coronado Island in the last week. The ocean is a perfect temperature for wading and snorkeling. There are no stinky dead squid yet washed up on the Coronado shores. However, the bees are a nuisance. Maybe a picnic on the beach is not a good idea--the minute you pop open a soda you have company and more company. Soon we were abandoning our picnic spot and moving further into the shoreline. Our little maltese, Chloe, was confused and annoyed by them. The children resorted to burying her in the sand to hide her. We had fun with that until people starting getting stung.

Robert was stung on the tip of his tongue as he took a swig from a thermos. By then, everyone was eager to depart, but bees were swarming the boat preventing us from boarding. The children were now half-panicked and near tears. I waded out from the shore with them to try to escape the bees while Robert and the other adults fired up the boat and sped off shore to blow them off. We waited like stranded refugees, me clutching Chloe and comforting Allie who now took on the fear that we might be abandoned to our fate with the bees. Robert returned for us like a rescuer, "get on, quick" and we clamored onboard to safety. I was last to get on--I had one hand occupied in grip of our dog, the other attempting a crawl stroke reminiscent of my high school summer as a lifeguard. Am doing this right? It really wasn't at all as traumatic as that, it wasn't a killer bee scenario, but it was a little fun to play up the drama.

Oh, and surprisingly, Robert's tongue did not swell up like we expected. I imagined we might need medical care, but he seemed unfazed. My hero.

Poster Boy for the dream

We're spending more time in and on the water as the temperatures climb. One by one our friends and neighbors are leaving for the States. That and the upheaval with the "suspension" of TSD Loreto Bay Partners is making a ghost town of our neighborhood. The suspense in "suspension" is something we're learning to live with. We have no more insight than the next person to what direction the development will take. We are fortunate to have a completed home. Living here as much as we do we have a more relaxed perspective. We have time to cultivate and enjoy "the dream" that everyone bought into even if it has been greatly altered. In the meantime we enjoy what we can.

We've hosted two parties this month for our neighbors. We are fortunate to have a world-class chef in the neighborhood, Rodrigo Tapia, who runs the La Mision Restaurant. The wonderful food he and his wife, Blanca, prepared elevated everyone's mood. They prepared dorado that Robert caught and lobster we bought from a local fisherman into dishes fit for a formal occasion. Some friends are employees of Loreto Bay, now having to look for new work. Some friends are nervous homeowners with uncompleted houses. Coming together socially seemed like an act of reassurance. For those of us who remain, we're in it together. For those who have to move on, we enjoyed our acquaintance and wish them well.

Now, we are too are finally winding down our time here. Another two or three weeks and we will head home until next winter. It's not even the increasingly hot weather that compels me to go, but the departure of friends. For what is a place without friends?

Scorpion Bay for Beginners

Before being so rudely interrupted by reality, we were enjoying a nice excursion to the Pacific side. We followed the Browns to San Juanico for an attempt at surfing the waves at Scorpion Bay. Our son Ryan tenaciously, over two days, worked at getting vertical on the surf board. Robert gave it a shot too. Being Midwest-born and bred he'd never even touched a surfboard. And what a sight to see our old Tahoe, the one that's taken us to the ends of the continent on family vacations and Ryan's baseball tournaments, toting surfboards on its roof.


We loved the open-air cantina at the campgrounds. I imagine a lot of fun times are had there. Scorpion Bay is noted for being a premier surfing spot. The beach is shallow and long; the waves are consistent and mild and lengthy. Surfers can catch waves that last forever. There's unrestricted freedom. You can bring your vehicle right on the beach; your dog too. The surf culture looks pretty cool, but I think Robert and I missed that wave. Maybe Ryan has a shot at it. I didn't try, but then I didn't have the equipment or body gear. My mission, as always, is to videotape and photograph everyone else's fun. I put together a video of Ryan. It's mostly wipe-outs, but I think it demonstrates that kid's tenacity and good humor.

We rented a very nice little house and the Browns rented a casita across from the beach. We spent our evenings together playing board games and watching Ryan act silly with the kids. Other than playing on the beach there is nothing else to see or visit. Riding waves is the only reason for visiting. It's all about the surfing. San Juanico is teeny-tiny and ugly. There is a small fishing industry there so part of the beach is occupied with pangas and an overabundance of sea birds which pollute the beach with their droppings. We ate at the only taco stand open to find the same woman cooking at the cantina the next day. Great tacos, by the way. When we crested the big hill northbound on Highway One where Loreto Bay comes into view, we all exclaimed how much more beautiful is "this side." And when we unlocked our front door, threw down our baggage, and entered our casa, we all exclaimed, "We're home. I love our house." I realized instantly how this casa has become a real home to us.

The trip was a lot of fun and we may venture over there again for another try. But for non-surfers, you cannot beat the Sea of Cortez. There is such abundant marine life and points of interest, and the Sierra de Las Gigantas makes for a dramatic backdrop. Loreto Bay is beautiful as far as the Baja goes. I'm ready to get snorkeling.

Two steps forward, one step back....

Days ago we were haggling with Bob Toubman, our condominium administrator about our renegade attempt to install a front step. After three years of a promised step we decided to make it happen ourselves. However, we willfully neglected to apply to the design committee, instead designing the step on the fly. We had seized the opportunity and by-God we were going to get our step. Of course, we were ordered to cease, prompting me to begin the plea process, only to be given permission anyway just days later. Too easy, I mused.

Had I known what was brewing I could have seen how insignificant our issue was.

We were away over the weekend when the news of the ultimate demise of the Loreto Bay Company was announced. We all saw it coming, but the sudden announcement caught everyone by surprise, even the employees. There is just no more money coming, no funds to continue operations. The hope that a buyer for the project would step up seems to have de-materialized and we are left with only guesses to what the future holds for us.

Employees tell me that they were notified Saturday of their termination. I believe, including the construction crews, there are over 700 workers. Everyone is now left to scramble for new employment. A walk through the Inn affirmed the reality of the news: Every chair, table, lounger, umbrella, towel, desk, potted plant, vanished. The swimming pools are slowly draining. Chalk marks in the sand are drawn for the fencing that will encompass the ghost hotel. The kayaks will be removed probably tomorrow. The golf course is now closed and no further maintenance will be provided for the tennis center. It's pool will be drained also. Furniture and fixtures from all the offices will be removed this week.

I'm told that, through the HOA and property management funds, services to Founders Neighborhood will still function. Security, trash removal, pest control, and landscaping will continue. However, the existing management company must be desolved and reconstructed under another authority, namely homeowners. I can see where we will have to become more involved in our destiny. Right now, it is so early that no one knows exactly what will be necessary. I believe many still hold out hope that the project will be bought soon. Well, it's now or never.

There is also a feeling among some homeowners and employees that this termination of operations had to happen for real change to take place. The idea being we need to shake off the old system and begin anew. We do not feel any sense of dread. The future could mean that we homeowners will take more control over the direction of the project. It will contract into something quite different than the original developers envisioned. Smaller, tighter, more realistic; maybe similar to a country club or a gated community. We'll have to scale back to a position we can sustain as a neighborhood, not a commercial center or resort. God knows, we all wished for the dream of a blend of commercial with residential, but it's not going to happen, not for a long time.

Of course we need to see the unfortunate homeowners in Agua Viva get their homes finished. That's a enormous problem for which I don't have an answer. I'm not the only one. We all feel concern and empathy for them. We need to pave the Paseo, complete the exterior landscaping, and address our parking issues. The hotel is of least concern now, likewise, the desired beach club, but the golf course we must save. There is a strong possibility it will no longer be maintained. The word is that is will be managed until the end of the month. (The sprinklers were running tonight.) It requires tens of thousands of dollars every month to maintain the course. Could it go back to Fonatur? No one can predict. I'm already envisioning us homeowners having to provide that money through dues and memberships. As far as the tennis center, forget it, not enough interest to save it. The few of us who play weekly will have to find some way to sweep the courts and replace nets, etc. It will continue to look like the relic its always been.

I may be getting ahead of myself which is what one does when faced with the unknown. It's easy to say what we need, but how is another story. Right now we wait for more news and say goodbye to many familiar faces.

Stuck in time

Allison's music school had a recital this past Friday evening. It was her first ever. She played the piano (electric keyboard actually) and she did very well, we thought. Her friend, Chandler, also played piano. No stage fright among those two. (Click here to see the edited video)

The event was held at the museum courtyard at the Mission, a charming place for a gathering, especially at sunset. I would keep glancing up at the mission bell tower admiring the centuries-old rock work along with the clock that's perpetually stuck at 8:05. What would those Jesuits think to see us here today? Could they have imagined the plastic chairs and electric pianos, the cameras and cell phones? The juxtaposition of the old with the modern is something that continually fascinates me. The more we move into the future the odder and more precious man-made objects become. Especially when you consider the labor required to create them. And that is indeed what makes objects of the past so emotionally weighted. You think about the creators along with the creation. You cannot separate the two. Nobody will look at a plastic chair with the same emotion, ever

In a flash of inspiration I suggested to Allison and her girlfriends, Grace, and Chandler that when they all turn fifteen we should throw a triple Quinceanera party for them in the same spot. Where else (as teenagers) will they get the opportunity to wear a princessy evening gown? Recently we attended a Quinceanera, which is the American version of a coming-out party, or debutante debut. It too, was held at the Mission. It's certainly not all about the dresses and the party; I was very impressed with the entire ritual of introducing a young girl to the community, especially the part where she sits before the priest for a long personal lecture about her responsibilities, her duties, her attitudes, her future. Wow. There's no ambiguity in that production. A girl would come away with a very definite idea of what is expected of her, and more so, what her value is to the world. I felt it was an honor to be invited to witness the process.

May is the best month

May has been the best month ever. Not only great for getting outside in the water, but just full of all kinds of memorable times.

Ryan and I took kayaks out around Point Nopolo in into the estuary yesterday. He brought his dog, Banks, who is still a puppy, along. Banks had never been in the ocean and now he was perched on the front end of a kayak overwhelmed with the sights and sounds. It was fun to watch his reactions. There was a huge colony of brown pelicans along the rock that would reluctantly take flight when we got too close. It's almost frightening when they pass overhead in large numbers--they make such a racket. Then there was all the sea life below. The sea was so calm and clear; we could see numerous starfish and anemones and every type of fish. I could barely contain my delight. Poor Banks, he didn't know what to think. He would repeatedly jump off the kayak and soon realize he had nowhere to go. Ryan would have to pull him back on the kayak. The dog certainly wore himself out.

Robert is wearing himself out as well. With Ryan here he's more active. This morning, at daybreak, I heard them making commotion in the kitchen as they prepared to go fishing. It's 2:00pm and they're not back yet. I am faithfully waiting for the "catch," because we are long overdue for a fish feast. If it's not fishing, then they are at the pool swimming, or throwing tennis balls great distances for the dog to fetch, or doing handi-work around the house like erecting a make-shift fence for Banks.

Robert has also started volunteering at the Internado in Loreto. Internado is the Spanish word for boarding school. It serves the many children who live on ranches in rural Baja (ha, an oxymoron for sure) where there are no schools. Although he knows no Spanish he is invaluable as a fun guy who will play games and entertain these wonderful kids. Whatever he does with them they are just happy for the fun and distraction. His involvement makes me curious to join, but this is his own pursuit, I don't want to hone in on him. Besides I have enough with our own "kids," the ones we are homeschooling. I had them making sugar cube Mayan pyramids this week. The project turned out to be more enjoyable than I imagined.

Puppy in the rain spout

Yes, that's a dog in the rain spout. Every night when we pass this house we hear the puppy bark, but it wasn't until recently that Robert discovered he was actually in the rain spout.