The waves, which should have progressively gotten smaller, creep higher and swamp the Polaris 250 Trailblazer all terrain vehicle, causing Paul to hesitate, then stop.
As he struggles to rock the vehicle backward, I yell "You've got to move, now!"
I hear Kelli telling Paul to back up, but I can see he is having trouble finding the right gear. As the wheels start to sink into the wet sand, another wave -- this one larger and more powerful -- crashes into shore, sending a sudsy mass of salt water and sand into the ATV.
Just when the water threatens to pull the ATV -- and Paul and Kelli with it -- into deeper waters, the vehicle lurches forward, sending a rooster tail of sand and water through the air. It roars up onto dry sand, does a tight loop and skirts around a rocky bend to safety and firmer ground.
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"He made it!" I shout to Liz, as I position our ATV for the same maneuver. Thirty-seconds later, my thumb gives the throttle a push and we head into the rocky gap. "Here we go!" As the wheels narrowly avoid the rising water I ask, "Are you having fun yet?"
* * *
We were in Mexico for a week of relaxation and fun with two other couples -- Paul and Kelli Mundinger and Doug and Peggy Schoenfeld. It was a trip that had been planned for over a year.
It began when Paul mentioned someone he was connected to through La Crosse Friends of International Students had stayed at a VRBO (vacation rental by owner) in Los Barrilles, Mexico. He thought that it would be a blast to spend 7 days in sunny Mexico during the grey and cold winter month of February. For the most part, he was correct. Ten days might have been better.
We had rented a beautiful beach front home, located on the Sea of Cortez, about 60 minutes northeast of Cabo San Lucas, playground of the rich and famous.
Snorkeling, swimming, kayaking, surf fishing and beach combing were right out our front door and patio.
The house was down the beach from Los Barrilles, a small town of 5,000 at best -- about half of which are locals and half are expatriates of Canada and the United States. The local area is fueled by tourism, especially sports fishing, and you can find wonderful mangos, dates, and avocados grown in the nearby town of Santiago.
The area lends itself to a relaxing and remote Mexican experience. Liz and I had experienced the tourist spots of Cancun and Isla Marheres a few years ago with its towering hotels, sparkling pools and elegant restaurants. Los Barrilles was nothing like that. Many of the buildings were very modest, with the apparent exception of the state-run Pemex gas stations. And the roads were not paved at all and better suited for ATVs, not our rented Volkswagen Jettas with their suspensions protesting every bump.
* * *
"Paul, I thought you were a goner," laughs Doug, taking another swig from his bottle of Corona.
We are all sitting around a table at El Viejo, a simple little restaurant in Los Barrilles favored by the locals. Actually, most of places in town are simple and little. Part of its charm was its indiscriminate location, hidden behind two or three ATVs' and a beat up pick up truck. Today's special is chile rellenos, served during lunch only on Friday's between 11 and 1. The shop owner next door had recommended it, so we make sure to get here before they were out for the day.
"When that big wave washed up, I thought your ATV was going to stall," I add, taking another bite of my stuffed pepper. "Somehow though, you kept it going and got out of there. Liz and I were thinking we might have to get the tow rope."
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Paul leans back and says, "I was trying to get it into reverse, but the water was coming up over my shoes. When that failed I decided to keep going forward. "
"Despite that, the ride on the beach was fantastic, wasn't it?" I say. "I can't believe how great it was."
"Yeah, with the exception of those rocks."
From across a brightly colored tablecloth, Peggy sarcastically asks, "So now that Paul knows how to operate the ATV, do you guys think you know the way to Coral Beach?"
"Rod said to follow the beach until a path takes us out of town," volunteers Paul. "Then another path to the right that follows the coast until we reach the point." Like most things in Mexico, we are finding things a little hard to define. There are few street signs, and directions vary from one person to another. A "short while" could be five minutes or half an hour depending on who you are talking to.
"Sounds like a plan," says Kelly, paying our waitress, a young Mexican girl who struggles with English. Isabella takes our pesos and we head for the exit, eager to continue our adventure.
* * *
Our plan was to use Los Barrilles as our anchor, allowing us to make day trips north through the Sierra de la Laguna Mountains to the port city of La Paz, or south to the busy tourist city of Cabo San Lucas where movie stars and vacationers populate the town. For the most part, it was the perfect location. During the day we were able to enjoy ourselves, walking down the beach, running into town for groceries at the local mercado or having lunch and margaritas whenever the mood struck. At night -- as isolation in the form of invading desert mice and star-lit skies exploded overhead -- we played cards and drank till laughter was running down our sunburned faces.
Driving in Mexico turned out to be an adventure none of us expected. As our neighbor (and rental manager) said, it really isn't wise to drive after dark. Some would say because of the possibility of vandalism and nefarious characters. But in truth it was because of cattle roaming the highways and broken down cars running without lights. I'm not so sure how safe it is to drive during the day either, with speed bumps the only way of controlling traffic. Many of them are mostly unmarked.
Our weekend journey to La Paz was interesting because of the twisty, mountainous roads often missing recommended guard rails. In town, four way stop signs were astonishing to observe. Many drivers viewed them as a guideline, not a rule, as cars sped through them without stopping.
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On the way back, we stopped at a roadside stand to pick up fresh watermelon, mangoes and pastries from local farmers. On the other side of the mountains, we passed through the small town of San Bartollo, where we passed a dozen Mexicans dressed in white cotton shirts and pants, congregating in preparation of a Sunday evening mass.
It was a wonderful, rural piece of Mexico, far from the tourist traps of lion-peddling photographers and hot, congested streets that were to come our way the next day.
* * *
From our raised vantage point, the sparkling blue-green water stretches east and north past the few remaining houses along Coral Beach. A resort called Hotel Punta Pescadero is just out of sight, where tourists fly in to a private air strip to vacation and fish. The roads are so bad here that there is no other way to get to the resort. At times it seems like we are lost.
The sun colors the water below us in bright shifting patches of green, blue and turquoise. A strong wind creates a line of waves that crash noisily against the beach, then retreat before gaining strength and attack again.
I maneuver the ATV around a sharp bend and cut across a remote stretch of gorgeous, white sand. The water breaks white over jagged fingers of brownish black rock that reach out from a bend on the beach. We have reached our destination.
"This is unbelievable!" declares Liz, as she jumps from the ATV and turns to face the others as their ATVs descend from the rocky hill and cut across the beach.
"We're finally here," I say, watching Liz strip down to her bathing suit and head toward the water. She splashes in and out of the briny waves breaking on the shore, leaving perfect footprints in the perfect sand.
"Oh, it's cold!" she yells, backing out before a large wave crashes at her feet. Instead, she climbs one of the jagged fingers of brown coral, looking for little pools of water. As she looks for signs of sea life, a small crab shuffles along the edge of a rock before disappearing beneath the water and sand.
It seems unnatural that such a beautiful place is without the usual beachcombers. But perhaps that is its charm. Isolated, difficult to get to and rugged. I look into the hills above us and see sparse vegetation consisting of cactus, dead brush and rock. Lots of rock. Such a stark contrast. To my left, it is barren and lifeless; to my right, it's alive with color, fish and vegetation.
"Should we go swimming?" asks Paul, as he and Doug approach. Peggy and Kelli are off exploring a cave area further to our left.
"I think it's a little cold, but I still want to go in the water. We can't travel this far and not say we tried it." I look out over the stretch of perfect sand and add, "Right now in Wisconsin, they are getting snow and ice. Temperatures in the 20's and a forecast for a foot of more snow. What would you rather do -- swim or shovel snow?"
I don't have to wait for Doug and Paul to answer to know their response.
* * *
Cabo San Lucas, at the gateway to the Sea of Cortez, was once the base for pirate vessels waiting to pounce on Spanish treasure ships. Today, it is a paradise of green golf courses, multi-million dollar homes that dot the surrounding hills, an ultra-chic marina and dozens of 5 star hotels.
An hour later, onboard the 33-foot sailboat Alegria, our crew of Burasto and Enrique was quick to provide all the alcohol we needed. The initial hour was spent snorkeling off the shores of Lover's Beach and Pelican Rock, viewing the famous Arch and sea lion colony at Lands End. While snorkeling, we saw an abundance of tropical fish, including guitarfish, sea bass, parrotfish and yellowtail. A bag of fish food guaranteed a school of fish would be directly beneath your suspended body.
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The day was permanently stamped as estupendo with a memorable visit to Senior Frogs at the marina, where Peggy led us in celebrating another great day in Mexico.
* * *
Outside, an explosion of stars spreads across the dark sky -- some bright and near, others faintly clustered like galaxies a million miles away. Maybe it was the rum spreading through my body, but I mention that stars never look like this back in Wisconsin. Everyone agrees.
"This had to one of the best days ever," says Paul as he marvels at the astral display. "Other than the water and rocks, ATVing was great."
I wrap my arms around Liz as we lay under a blanket and look up into the sky. Waves continued to crash ashore only a hundred feet from where we lay. "I'm glad we found Coral Beach, I was beginning to wonder if we'd ever get there."
"It's like planning for this trip," continues Paul. "It wasn't exactly clear what we were going to find down here in Mexico, but once we got here, it was great. I propose that we do this again in a few years."
"I don't think I'll ever get tired of waking up to these sunrises," said Doug. As if in response, a trail of light from a falling star races across the horizon, disappearing behind the black shadow of the nearby Sierra de la Laguna Mountains. "Or the stars."
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