Sierra Pools and Morning Glass—Cabo’s Back Door
Driving north from San José del Cabo to the Sierra de La Laguna foothills, México #1 winds through pretty terrain, serving up blooming plumeria, shocking red bursts of the usually dead-looking coral tree, and seas of majestic cardon, palo blanco and torote. To the west, San Lázaro’s gray granite face towers majestically above us.
The small colonial-era farming and ranching towns of Miraflores and Santiago are gateways to the La Laguna's hot and cold springs. When the Pacific and North American crustal plates shifted about six million years ago, they created the Baja Peninsula, the Sea of Cortés, and the San Andreas Fault. The Pacific plate still moves, over 200 miles north so far, taking the peninsula with it. Underneath the Sea of Cortés, sediment from the Colorado riverbed's new oceanic crust keeps forming from upwelling magma, some close enough to the surface to cause hot springs and other geothermal activity.
We turn off the highway to Santiago, skirting the tiny town up to a maze of rough dirt ranch roads leading into the sierra. After miles and miles of washboard, we reach an isolated ranch and are greeting by the ranch family we’ve come to know. As we unload our gear, the air is charged with anticipation, but we're not “there” yet. We quickly make camp, strip down to bathing suits, grab our daypacks and go. We could ease right in to the large natural hot tub in front of us, but that's for tonight's stargazing.
The uphill hike is fairly easy, the large rocks and boulders perfect for the novices in our group. The first large pool is only half an hour out; and we are all surprised to find it's deserted, apart from a lone fox on the periphery that swiftly disappears into the bush.
The clear clean water is fresh and invigorating. We swim, splash, and take turns diving off the high granite rocks surrounding the pool. Half of our group decides to hike on. I stay, finding the perfect smooth rock to soak up the sun.
On these trips, we never know what we'll discover each time we visit—marine fossils in the strangest places, birds and plants we've not seen before—the incredible diversity amazes all of us. We've even found cardon cactus, a palm, and a pine, all endemic, coexisting together at a certain altitude. In the rainy season these mountains become as lush as the emerald fairways of the Tourist Corridor.
Back at camp, we rustle up dinner, all of us anxious to hit the “hot tub” and stargaze. Without the city lights, the sky is clouded with nebula and a plethora of stars. The pool, warm and silky, is delicious in the cool evening air—at over 3,000 feet, it's more forest-like than desert up here. We hear owls nearby, but thankfully, there’s no sign of bats. Climbing into my bag, the camp is silent and soon so am I.
On our way back to San José del Cabo the next morning, we turn north on Highway #1 instead of south, and I catch our guide's smile in the rear view window. “Anyone up for kayaking?” he asks. Soon, we're in La Ribera on the East Cape, heading southwest to a beach where a fleet of kayaks await us for a morning glide on the Sea of Cortés. We’re in luck, the sea is glassy and smooth. I jump in a kayak, stow my fins and camera, and make for Punta Colorada. After an hour of paddling, I see a pod of dolphins in the distance and decide it's time for a swim. Fastening a lead to my ankle, I pop on my fins and slide into the sea. I'm towing the kayak, but at twenty odd-pounds, it's only a minor nuisance. Swimming back to camp, I wonder if the pod will come closer to check me out. This time they don't, content to play amongst themselves.
On shore, coolers of ceviche and cold beers, beach umbrellas, and camp chairs greet me. After lunch, we float around on boogie boards before reluctantly driving back to Cabo. Strangely, it feels like we've been gone a long time—a feeling I hold onto for as long as I can.—Sabrina Lear
Part 3 of 3 - | Section One | Section Two | Section Three | |
