Yesterday we landed at the Santa Inés RV camping spot on the Gulf of California, just north of Mulegé, Baja—and what a beautiful spot it is. This morning, as soon as I opened the door to let the dogs out, the sunrise stopped me in my tracks. Glorious is the only word for it. I had planned to crawl back into bed after the morning potty routine, but the sky, the sea, and the gentle hush of the day had other plans.
Today really belonged to Comet. She spent most of it outside, basking in the sun and shedding in great, fluffy waves. I brushed her thoroughly, sending tufts of fur floating away on the breeze. Hopefully, some lucky birds will find it perfect for their nests.
Eventually, Kasey joined us. Out on the water, we spotted dolphins—dark and sleek, the common bottlenose kind. They danced through the surface, splashing and circling in a kind of marine ballet, maybe even mating. They weren’t far from shore, but only a tiny dot showed up in our photos.
For breakfast, Kasey whipped up scrambled eggs on those fresh tortillas we’d picked up. Simple and delicious.
The rest of the day flowed gently, like the tide. We relaxed, chatted, and watched a group of turkey vultures gather around a dead pelican not far from camp. The dogs were thoroughly entertained.
We made a few phone calls, including a nice chat with Kasey’s sister Lynn. We also tackled a bit of Umpqua Watersheds business—emails, phone calls, and a good conversation with John Dyer about the radio station’s range expansion. Hearing the familiar voices of friends and family reminded me how sweet connection can be, even from afar.
The sea was relatively calm in the afternoon, so Kasey launched his drone. I’ll add pictures later—they’re still trapped in the tablet—but I can report that one gull was not impressed. It voiced its disapproval with a few squawks and escorted the drone like a tiny air traffic controller.
In the afternoon,I found a splash of tequila in the bottle and got creative. Two limes from the fridge, a splash of vanilla, some orange drink, water, ice, and the tequila came together in what I’m now calling the “Santa Inés Margarita.” The vanilla made it sing.
We took short walks along the beach—well, most of us did. Tad, true to form, wasn’t much for walking with us. He was a blur on his own missions, dashing a quarter mile down the sand and swimming a little, though not venturing too far out, thank goodness.
As darkness fell, we lit a small campfire, then made burritos inside. Just as we were winding down, the moon rose over the eastern ocean, golden and luminous, casting a pathway of light across the water like a celestial lantern.
It was the perfect end to a peaceful day. I have a feeling we’ll find our way back here someday.
No comments:
Post a Comment