As day broke after another moonlit
motor, we passed Isla Cerralvo and Isla Ballena, two beautiful islands
lying northeast of Bahia de La Paz. Through the binoculars, we could
pick out numerous idyllic anchorages on these islands and on the
eastern edge of the bay, which was similarly lined with an incredibly
variety of rock formations divided by small, white-sand beaches;
cliffs of various pitch, colored with the browns, reds and yellows of
the desert, but also occasionally with green, formed little
peninsulas, several of which hosted enormous, bulbous, rocks at the
end. Patches of mangroves, where there are said to be heron
rookeries, dotted the water's edge at many of these bays. We made
plans to visit once we took care of business in town. Thus we passed
through the long channel that leads to a massive estuarine harbor; we
set the anchor among dozens of other boats about 60 yards from the
beach at the city of La Paz. We would soon meet people who ventured
to La Paz for a few days and ended up staying for a few years, and we
would soon understand why.
La Paz is the capital of Baja
California Sur. It is a small, charming city. The waterfront is lined
with beaches for much of its length. A wide brick path runs parallel
and is bustling with whole families on walks, couples strolling, and
children tearing about in play, especially on weekend evenings. This boardwalk of sorts, Malecón in Spanish, runs parallel to the water and roads branch off from it in directions resembling South. This was
the view from our anchorage, near the West end of the Malecón.
Ardea lay among many other boats in every imaginable state, from
bristol to disrepair, just south of the channel. To the West lay
Marina de La Paz, beyond which was another stretch of shallows where
more boats were anchored. On the North side of the channel, many more
boats were anchored behind the long peninsula of sand dunes that
creates the harbor. We knew that we were in a veritable mecca for
cruisers, but the scene was no less exciting.
Unfortunately,
the first thing we had to do after anchoring was wait. We could
practically smell the tacos, and strongly considered swimming to
shore, but we needed to see about borrowing our friend's second
dinghy. Our poor old unnamed dinghy struck off on her own a couple
days before at Bahia de Los Muertos. You could blame margaritas or
you could blame lousy knots or you could blame the fresh northerly
that washed her to sea as we slumbered, but I prefer to think that
the old dink was just fulfilling her dream of traveling to South
America. Anyway, we had met Rob, singlehander of the Islander 44,
Raka, a few days prior. He too was bound for La Paz and was planning
a night passage to avoid the headwind and waves coming round the
cape. We planned to leave the same night and found that Rob was a bit
worried about his supply of diesel. So, on the way out, just after
moonrise, we brought Ardea alongside Raka and passed him one of our
jerry cans. He paid us for the fuel and offered to lend us one of his
dinghies in La Paz until we could find a new one.
Rob
got in a few hours after us and, after we coordinated on the radio,
he anchored nearby. Only later did we learn that he had to hand-steer
the whole way; like us, he relies on an electric autopilot when under
power, but his is broken (well, nothing is ever really broken when
you're cruising, it's either on the fritz, needs some work, or shat
the bed). As such, he arrived exhausted and we regretted not giving
him one of Ardea's crew to ease the burden. Nevertheless, he offered
to lend us his rowing dinghy so that we could have freedom. I jumped
in the water with a surfboard and paddled over to pick it up.
The
small fiberglass rowing dink was a battered old bird, but tough. With
all three of us in it plus two bags of garbage, we had about an inch
of freeboard left. No room for sudden movements. Once ashore, we began the
process that so many sailors have experienced in this place. We
wandered the streets on foot and felt we were in a Mexican town for
the first time since the tiny fishing village of Puerto Magdalena,
nearly a month past. La Paz was no doubt the largest urban area we
had been to and, after Los Cabos, we were relieved by a sense of
authenticity. It had been a couple years since I was in a city whose
sidewalks changed elevation so frequently or would suddenly fragment
and disappear. After my first skidding stop at the chasm's edge, I
felt a nostalgic joy and began to enjoy the city at once.
In
those first evening hours, wandering the streets in search of nothing
in particular (except, obviously, tacos), we were all overjoyed at
the place. It had history and character and people. We gladly
explored and, when time came to find some dinner, we followed our
ears and noses to a little restaurant on the West side of town, about
a dozen blocks from el centro. There were maybe twenty tables, all
on well-packed sand underneath a large rectangular tent. A live band
consisting of guitar, bass and accordion were playing Mexican folks
songs to a packed house. It was mostly families, everyone from
infants to grandparents were presently listening to blaring music in
the space of half a basketball court; save for the infants, many were
singing along.
Luckily there was a bar with three seats open; it was
in the back near the entrance and was simply a tall metal table about
five feet long and two feet wide with metal bar stools. It was our
ideal situation; if a place is packed and has music and we're the
only white people there, we've found we can generally expect a good
dining experience. The guy running the restaurant was incredibly
friendly and made for a hilarious time. The music was pretty grand
too. At one point, a woman requested a song and, after a little
chiding, got up and sang beautifully herself while the band played. We
couldn't believe what a genuine community we'd stumbled upon. It was
a fitting introduction to La Paz.
On
our second day, we tuned in to the local vhf radio net on channel 22.
At 0800, the net begins and, over about half an hour, covers
everything from weather to arrivals and departures, mail delivery and
equipment barter. I was pretty excited to see how active and amiable
the large cruising community was in La Paz. By 0830, without leaving
the cabin, we had found out that there was daily coffee and cookies
in the morning at Club Cruceros, near Marina de La Paz and only a
short walk from our anchorage. We also got a lead on a new dinghy.
What a place.
Club
Cruceros has a small space near Marina de La Paz. It is a primarily
gringo group of small-boat cruisers that are passing through or have
stopped to stay a while. There are people who are only around for a
few days and people who haven't left for ten years. We got a chance
to meet a couple groups of younger cruisers and began to understand
the degree to which the viejo cruisers remain young at heart, a
lesson which would come to be demonstrated often. At our first
coffee, we met new people and immediately began to benefit from the
mutual support given by our fellow mariners. The people there have
such a range of experience in boating and ample local knowledge that
they provide a very valuable resource to new arrivals. They certainly
saved us a ton of time.
Over
the next two days we took care of a great deal. We bought a dinghy
that is sufficient but needs a little attention, got our laundry done
for the first time in over a month and showered for the first time
in... we don't actually know. We played volleyball with some Club
Cruceros folks and drank beers with Rob from Raka and some of the new
folks we'd met at CC. In a very short time, we were regularly running
into people we knew. It was surreal how quickly the place became very
comfortable. I suppose it makes sense though- there are a lot of
gringos around whose main activities include exploring the town and
working on boats and you start recognizing faces fast. The process is
underscored by the openness and generosity of the people, both
cruisers and locals. It's fantastic how gregarious everyone is, and
it all seems to operate in a mutually beneficial manner.
The
place made an impact on all of us straight away and we were easily
attracted to its charms, but we came with a hefty to-do list and we
were going to have to take a break from the tranquilo culture and get
to work for a few days. On Monday, our second day in town, I wandered
down the Malecón
getting quotes from each boatyard. The thought of withdrawing from
the ever-joyful cruising culture we had just found was difficult, but
the fact remained: Ardea had to be hauled out before we could leave
La Paz.
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