Norte Cortez - the summary. Part 1 of 3

     20 years ago I read a book called Wind Water Sun by Ed Darack that had incredible color photography and was about his solo kayak journey down the Sea of Cortez.  As soon as I read the book I said that I wanted to do that even though I had never sea kayaked at that point.  After 20 years of talking about it, training for it, and trying to get my act together to do it twice before I finally had everything fall into place and was able to do it.  The following is a summary of the first third of the trip with some of the pictures from along the way.
     I left Seattle with my kayaks on the roof of my truck and a ton of gear in the back on 28 Feb 13. I spent the first week slowly road tripping south visiting friends in Oregon and California eventually arriving at Home Base California in LA belonging to my friends Juli and Morgan who let me leave my truck and a bunch of gear at their house while I was in Mexico.

     Along the way I picked up Toby at LAX who was going to drive down to Mexico with me, drop me off,  and then drive my truck back to Home Base California so it would be safe.  I had never actually met Toby besides phone conversations.  He is a Brit who was a friend of a friend from work they did in Kenya that got connected to me through Facebook.  Toby like me has this drive and need for adventure.  He once rode a motorcycle by himself from Nepal back to England and then a year or two later rode a different motorcycle around the coast of Africa from Egypt to South Africa and then back up to Morocco.  Years ago he lived in Baja for a period of time.  He is currently training to help try to get the first Kenyan woman to the top of Everest.  He heard about my adventure and need for help, thought it sounded like fun, and volunteered to help.  He turned out (as I knew he would be after talking to him on the phone for 5 minutes) to be a great guy and we had a lot of fun swapping stories.  He and I drove into Mexico 2 days later and made it to San Felipe with absolutely no problems. 

     When we got to San Felipe it turned out it was race week for the Baja 250 so the town was full of dune buggies, sand rails, trophy trucks, motorcycles, ATVs, and even the cute little Volkswagon bugs outfitted for the desert.  It was like a scene out of Mad Max/The Road Warrior with all the desert racing machines roaring around.  We drove straight to the beach and I went and touched the Sea of Cortez for the first time.

     We then went to get a beer.  At the first bar we sat down I was instantly introduced to "the Baja Way" of sharing, being hospitable, and helping people out.  The people at the table next to us turned out to be some Canadians (Louise, Mike, Ken, Carol, and their friend Lenny) who live down there part time.  They heard about why we were down there, asked us where we were staying (we didn't know yet), and the next thing we know they invited us to camp out on their property.  This then was upgraded to staying in their guesthouse once we got there.

     Two days later it was time for me to launch off on this expedition.  That morning I had questions of resolve and spirit.  Would I be strong enough and determined enough to pull this off? I know from previous solo efforts that at times your brain is your own worst enemy.  There was also a series of ominous omens that had me a little freaked out that morning.  To start, when we woke up it was raining.  It rarely rains here except during hurricane season. I figured it was the desert and that it would stop by the time we got to the beach and that turned out to be the case.  The next bad omen was when we were taking the boat off the roof of the truck.  Whenever I kayak or am on snow I always wear a pendant around my neck that is the Maori symbol for "Safe Passage Over Water".  As we lifted they kayak the back end swung around hitting me on the chest smashing the pendant into multiple pieces.  I am a bit superstitious so the fact that I broke the pendant with the kayak itself just as I was about to start this adventure was unnerving.  I had a fleeting thought that I shouldn't go but I was way past the point of no return so loaded up the boat anyway.  Then as I am about to start Toby asks "Do you have everything like your passport?".  Oh shit!!!!  My money belt and passport were stashed under the seat in the truck still.  I had almost left without them.  I really was nervous about starting.  It just seemed like too many things were going wrong that morning.  But nevertheless, I pushed the kayak into the water, pointed it south, and left Toby behind on the beach. 

 









      It didn't take long that first day before I started experiencing the various winds that Baja can throw at you.  That day I learned that if you start seeing a dust storm brewing in the desert then get to shore as fast as you can.  The westerlies are some of the strongest winds here and have blown kayakers out to sea.  Luckily when it hit I was only a few hundred meters off shore and was able to paddle it in.  It was cold that night.  I had to stay completely bundled up in my 32 degree rated sleeping bag.  In the morning when I started paddling the mountains were covered in snow.  I never expected to see snow when I was down here.

     The first 4 days to Puertocitos was a good warm up section.  It was a sandy beach so I could land anywhere with a road following the coast so there were plenty of houses along the way.  It was a safe section of coast to get a feel for the wind, waves, and how the boat was going to handle with such a heavy load.  The landscape consisted of a series of low points that I would have to paddle around.  The waves were always more intense at these points as the water tended to be shallower with a stronger current.  The mountains were set back a distance from the coast.  The rock and mountains would range from red to black with multiple shades of brown all jumbled into a confused geologic mess of uplifted strata with veins of different rock within rock, obvious old lava flows, and large arroyos (dry river beds) cutting through the hills periodically.  The arroyos showed that for such a dry landscape that when it does rain HUGE amounts of water flows over the land.  There was not much vegetation on the hills and what there was consisted of scrub brush, very small trees, and a variety of cactus.  The cactus was predominately cardon (looks like saguaro but bigger), cholla, and nopal (prickly pear).  The bird life was prolific.  Huge flocks of brown pelicans, sea gulls, cormorants, boobies, terns, and frigate birds.  They would often dive into the water all around me catching or attempting to catch fish. I also saw sea lions basking on the beach and in the morning I could see the green eyes of coyotes reflecting in my headlamp.

     Every morning I would get up before dawn so that I could start paddling as soon as the sun came up.  The winds tended to be calm first thing in the morning but by 9 or 10am they would start up.  Those early morning hours were often the nicest paddling of the day.  The other hurdle of this section of coast is the huge tidal exchange. There was a 20 foot difference between high and low tide.  At times it can be even bigger then that.  With the tide cycle where it was I was landing in the afternoon at high tide but it would be low tide when I launched.  That meant I had to drag my kayak and gear sometimes an extra 1/4 mile to reach the water line compared to where it had been when I got to that camp the day before.

     The highlight of Puertocitos was soaking in the hot springs, the "library and post office", and I met some Americans (Rob, Mike, and their sons) who have a house there.  They invited me over that night for dinner and beer.  They are lettuce/alfalfa farmers in Yuma, AZ but spend as much time as they can in Baja fishing.  Puertocitos was otherwise pretty rundown and looked like it had seen better days as did most of Baja. 

      The next section to Gonzaga Bay was similar to the first part but became more remote.  It was also some of the calmest water I saw during the entire trip and it is where I saw my first whales and dolphins.  This section passes through an area called the Enchanted Islands.  Each island in this area has a distinctly different color, size, and seems geologically distinct.  It was here that you find if an island is white it is because it is covered with a frosting of bird guano. It also means that island smells bad. 

     It turned out that when the water was that calm and flat that I had problems.  If there is turbulence in the water I can see where the underwater rocks are.  This section is where I hit my first submerged rock.  It also created a phenomena where the water was so smooth that I would lose my depth perception with it.  My brain would suddenly tell me that I was on a slope of water into a pit and I would get vertigo.  I would have to quickly look to the land horizon to reestablish my stability and I almost capsized a couple of times because of this.  I learned not to stare at the water too hard.

     The next section was the part of the trip that had kept me awake at night worrying about it.  It was a 60 mile section from Punta Final to Punta Remedios nicknamed "The Wall".  For most of this section the cliffs come straight down into the water with few beaches to land on.  It was the most technical section of the trip and a bad place to get caught if the winds picked up.  While I passed through this the winds tended as usual to be calm in the morning and then pick up in the afternoon.  I managed to get through this area without any problems besides being nervous and having anxiety dreams at night that involved snow and avalanches. It however was also on this section that the first of several nights occurred that I could hear whales breathing as I lay sleeping in my tent.  The other wildlife highlight was when sea lions were coming up out of the water and grabbing these cute little grebe seabirds right in front of my kayak for about a 5 minute period of time.  National Geographic kind of stuff happening right in front of me.

     "The Wall" was the most remote section of the entire coastline and I did not expect to see anyone along here.  One day in the middle of the afternoon I was laying in my tent when I heard a different sounding engine noise.  At first I thought it was a plane but then it was too close.  I stuck my head out of the tent to see what it was and to my surprise found a Mexican Navy jetboat/gunboat, the "Albiereo", coming around the corner.  I figured I should wave and say Hi.  They obviously weren't expecting to see anyone either because as soon as they saw me multiple guys started running around and coming out of the bridge.  They instantly turned the boat and brought it in as close inshore as they could which was about 30 yards away.  They then questioned me on who I was and why was I there.  I explained that I was a solo kayaker traveling from San Felipe to La Paz.  That seemed to flabbergast them and I had to tell them 3 different times that there was "no problema".  They finally seemed satisfied and moved on after a bit.

     After getting through "The Wall" that got me to Bahia de Los Angeles which ended the northern section of the trip.  LA Bay is known as the poor mans Galapagos.  It is a bunch of small islands where similar natural selection has occurred as did on the Galapagos.  Animals only miles away from each other have distinct species differences.  There are species of plant and lizard here that are found nowhere else.  It is also a lot easier and cheaper to get to then the Galapagos.  I camped on Isla Ventana before going into town to get food, beer, and supplies.  On Isla Ventana I was treated to a dolphin show right outside my tent that was like something straight out of Sea World.  Dolphins doing front flips in pairs, back  flips, tail pirouettes, and just general dolphin shenanigans.  The hiking on the island was pretty scenic also. 

    

     When I got to LA Bay my rib cage muscles ached more then anything and my hands had a few minor blisters but I was otherwise holding up.  I had covered 191 miles in 13 days.