Day 34: April 6. Gusts, Games, and Good Dogs

The wind was strong again overnight. It was tough to sleep with the gusts howling, but at least it drowned out the usual noise from the roosters and dogs.

We’ve decided to stay a few extra days so we can be here when the marketing person Randy and Kim hired arrives. He’s coming tomorrow morning with a drone to film. Randy wants Kasey to talk about how nonprofits organizations, like Umpqua Watersheds, benefit from having a week donated to stay at The Last Place.

In the meantime, we’re finding it peaceful. I made coffee on the upper patio—so much easier than using our percolator. The house cleaners were busy getting everything ready for Randy and Kim’s return tomorrow.

Even with the wind, Kasey wanted to play pickleball. He figured it might be calmer in the canyon. We biked over to the courts, which were empty—no surprise given the gusts. But we played anyway. The wind made for an interesting game; the wiffle-like pickleballs kept getting carried off. A great shot could suddenly veer off course, turning into comedy. I called it “Wicked Ball” because the ball would take these wild, unpredictable turns. We played two games but couldn’t keep a volley going, so we just hit the ball around for fun. When the net started falling over, we figured that was our cue to call it quits.

Back to camp.

After a simple breakfast of strawberry yogurt, we decided the tide was low enough to walk the south beach. Normally it’s too rough to navigate—the football-sized rocks make it hard, especially for Lincoln. But today we found a few nice sandy stretches and walked about a mile before heading back.

Lincoln is struggling more these days, so we took breaks to let him rest. He still loves the beach. 

He watched Tad run, swim, and play like he used to. It looked like he was remembering the days when he could keep up. On the sand, he perked up—grabbed my arm playfully and trotted ahead, smiling. I can’t help but think this may be his last trip to Mexico. He’ll be 14 in June.

When we got back, Lincoln collapsed onto his bed. Kasey gave him a pain pill to help him rest. Tad seemed ready to go again. Oh to be young again.

We did some laundry and took a nap ourselves, catching up after the restless night.

Dinner was simple: pozole and cheese sticks, with cookies for dessert.

We wrapped up the day with some games. We played Rummikub—Kasey won one and I won the other. He also had a great Cribbage round and double skunked the computer.

Day 33: April 5 – A Quiet Day After Goodbyes

This morning around 9 a.m., our dear friends Ken and Jenny Carloni and Diana Pace packed up and headed for the airport to return home. It was sad to see our time in Cabo Pulmo come to an end, but we couldn’t have asked for a better time together.

Janice and I plan to begin our journey north on Tuesday, aiming to be back home around April 20.

Today was quiet. We took the Boys on a few walks, letting them stretch their legs and take in the calm. Janice, unfortunately, came down with a bout of food poisoning from the restaurant we visited yesterday, so she rested and took it easy. I rode my bike out to the pickleball courts to check the wind. We've had steady northern winds of 10–15 mph, but as I suspected, the courts are somewhat shielded by the mountains to the north. We might try playing tomorrow morning.

Janice, Lincoln, Tad, Comet and I all took a couple of siestas today. We have been quite busy over the last week with our friends and now that we are back to our original traveling troupe, I think we all needed some downtime before starting our long trek home.

Later, we took a swim in the pool. I wore my baseball cap in and accidentally stepped past the white line into the deep section—10 feet down—and went under, cap and all. Janice couldn’t stop laughing.

Afterward, we came back, played a few rounds of Spite and Malice, listened to music, and had a quiet dinner together.

Even here in paradise, our hearts are with the people back home. We’ve been following the national protests closely, and like tens of millions across the country, we’re dismayed by the current administration’s relentless dismantling of environmental protections, purging of federal workers, and the chaos being unleashed. It creates a heavy sense of anxiety, even amidst beauty. Janice said she wishes we were home to stand with our friends and neighbors who are rising up to defend democracy.

Last night, I woke up troubled and turned to my “thinking buddy,” Sage (ChatGPT), to co-create a meditation that brought me clarity and peace:

A Reflection for the Road Home

As we turn northward and the Baja sun softens behind us, we carry more than souvenirs and stories—we carry renewal. For weeks, we have lived closer to the rhythms of the Earth: salt on our skin, the hush of waves, the laughter of dogs on the wind. In this space, we remembered what it means to breathe fully, to trust the moment, and to feel alive.

And now, we return—not to the chaos, but to the calling.

We know the world is troubled. As environmentalists, naturalists, and humanists, we see it clearly. But clarity need not bring despair. What we’ve just experienced reminds us: there is still wonder. Still connection. Still hope.

So as we cross the long miles home, let us carry with us this intention:

  To be informed, but not consumed.

  To speak truth, but not lose our joy.

  To feel sorrow, but not forget gratitude.

  To resist, but also to create.

  To act, and to love.

We are not here to fix the whole world alone. But we are here to hold a lantern, to plant something beautiful, to teach, to sing, to laugh with friends, and to walk gently with our planet.

And so we return—not diminished by what we must face, but replenished by what we now know to be possible. Let us live like the desert after rain: quietly blooming, defiantly alive.