Burning Through VII – The Mud Flat Run

I am prepared for a long ride when I settle into my bus seat, but I am not prepared for 11 hours of action movies with the volume set a millimeter below distortion. The barrage started as we made our way out of Ensenada, and included a series of Edward Norton thrillers, dubbed in Spanish. Such Hollywood inspired creations as the Incredible Hulk, Eagle Eye, Shark Swim and the cartoon fight flick Kung Fu Panda, none of which understanding Spanish were required to know the plot, motive or theme. Blowing up buildings and piling up cars is the same in Spanish and English.

My ear plugs help me divert my attention from the movies to the changing landscape. The rich farmland south of Ensenada, soon turns into rolling desert hills and scraggly cactus. The towns thin out as the land dries up and wrinkles on Mexican faces outside the bus increase. Soon we head away from the Pacific Coast into the interior. Many hours later I wake up in the Del Desierto Central Parque and out the window are the amazing Cardón cactus, the largest cactus in the world, holding onto boulders as big as houses, set against a crimson sky. I expect to see Roy Rogers clipity clop by in his 10 gallon hat riding resolute on top of Trigger. I consider getting off when we stop at a taco stand, illusions of spending the night in the desert, but the building condensation on the windows and descending temperatures inform me this would be a rather uncomfortable choice.

I cozy up in my sleeping bag, ear plugs firmly entrenched, and slumber off as we descend and wind our way for three hours back down to the coast.

The attraction to Guerrero Negro are the lagoons outside of town which are the winter homes for the very same Grey Whales that migrate past Vancouver island every Spring and Fall. The idea was attractive when I first learned of the place but stepping off the bus my nostrils are instantly filled with the dank musty decaying smell of mudflats mixed with an ever present pall of diesel. I take a few steps into the dark lit muddy streets in search of a night motel and know this is a temporary stay. The next time I see real Grey whales will be in Tofino.

In fact the closest I get to the whales is the next morning off main street – a painting on a cement wall. The overwhelming smell of decaying mud, burnt out cars on garbage filled beach, and the fact it is December 24 and I don’t want to be stuck here for Christmas, all point to the need to keep moving. I’m on a bus in 2 hours heading for the Sea of Cortez. My Christmas present is a ticket out of town. I wonder if the sea will really be as blue as I’ve been told?