Mulege & Bahia Concepcion

Trip Start Apr 11, 2010
Trip End May 20, 2010

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Flag of Mexico  , Baja California,
Sunday, April 25, 2010

Forty miles and one million cacti south of Santa Rosalia lies Mulege, an oasis town where a stream enters the Gulf of California, far enough south for the beaches to be nice and water warm enough for pleasant swimming. The town of Mulege itself is a hardscrabble sort of a place, but its restaurants are cheap and lush natural environment inviting.  The nearby Mission de Santa Rosalia de Mulege is another of Baja's string of beautiful well-maintained 18th-century mission churches.

Bahia de Concepcion begins a short distance south of Mulege.  At B of C a narrow inlet leads to a spectacular jade sea, a virtual desert Polynesia filled of barren islets, separated from the rest of the Gulf of California by a bony mountainous peninsula.  I arrived at Playa Santispac on one of the bay's more northerly coves in the evening and decided "this is the perfect place" for a couple nights. I'd have my own palapa and a stretch of beach mostly to myself with only a few RVs and a beachfront restaurant at the far end.

After a jog on the beach and a swim in the glasslike cove, I met my next door neighbor, an older American hippie chick who teaches English in Loreto.  Martha and I chatted some before she invited to join her at the south end of the beach where there was a warm spring set behind the mangroves surrounding a small inlet.  Martha told me about the special energy of Baja and the spirituality that brought her back permanently after he first visit to the peninsula.  As well as an English teacher, she was also an herbalist who had opened a botanica and hoped to develop a "healing community" around her home.  I've heard this all before, I thought.  "Hmmm, Martha, do you by any chance know my friend Cynthia?"

"Warren, when's your birthday?" Martha asked after we chatted a while about our lives and experiences.

"July 16th.  Why?"

"You're a Cancer!  I don't believe it!  Cancer's are total homebodies.  I would have guessed a Sagittarius based on what you've told me about your travels."

"Well, I guess I'm just at home wherever I go."

The warm pool started off relatively clear but gradually became murkier as our movements stirred up more slimy black mud from the bottom. Martha insisted there was great healing energy in the mud, that the concentrated mineral salts in it would help draw toxins out of my body.  I didn't have a poison-o-meter with me to take before and after readings but must admit that after my dips in the sea and soak in the warm spring I sure did feel good.

After some more beach time I wandered over to the beach restaurant in a famished state shortly after it opened around 3:00.  Hmmm, Pescado Ranchero sounds ideal and for a change from all the Mexican beers and Valle de Guadalupe wines I've had since I got into Mexico, I'll try one of those 30 peso ($2.40) margaritas.  Of course, real margaritas are nothing like the sweet blender concoctions you get at restaurants in the U.S.; they're strictly tequila, triple sec, lime juice, and ice.  And, oh so good!  I settled my tab after three of them and stumbled back down the beach into the sunset towards my tent not to emerge again until morning.

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