February 19 – March 3, 2023
Sometimes it’s prudent to follow an established trail. I had been reminded of this only days before when I nearly lanced my foot.
But sometimes even the path least traveled still contains too many footprints.
Although both Punta Colorada and Puerto Salinas were identified in our charts as known anchorages, we couldn’t help but notice a lot of space between those two points that remained unconfirmed.
Our immediate reward for picking up anchor? A brief visit by always inquisitive dolphins to see what we are up to.
With good light from above and clear, calm water we felt much more confident about probing closer along the shoreline in the Mothership to look for an alternate spot to anchor.
All the while creeping along at a snail’s pace, with eyes at the bow able to spot anything ten feet below the water, we inched our way into a completely sand covered area free of any obstructions or rocks that offered great holding.
A new spot discovered, even further off the beaten path.
After we dropped anchor, yet another family of dolphins passed by offering a welcome to the new neighborhood.
Later, when we launched the drone from ashore, we got a much better sense of the coastline. It appeared we had chosen our location well.
From the clifftop perspective offered by the drone, it quickly became apparent how tricky the shoreline could be to navigate. Just beyond the location we had dropped anchor were a cluster of rocks that were no where to be found on our charts and yet, were very visible at low tide. Those same rocks would be a foot underwater at high tide.
While the cliffside view from a distance provided quite a dramatic scene, ashore we found it to be even more fascinating.
Layers upon layers of different materials provided visual clues to a timeline spanning millions of years; a geological storybook told in a language far beyond our understanding. Some formed momentarily from molten rock during volcanic episodes…some the result of constantly shifting and buckling tectonic plates…some carved by relentless wind and waves. An amazing variety of different colors, lines, shapes and textures mixed together.
And interspersed throughout were huge sections of what could only be fossilized ocean bed. Massive areas of rock encased with tons of shells.
A small beach hidden in a nearby bay provided the land access for a shore excursion.
The bay turned out to be a runout point for a dry riverbed which seemed both ironic, given the utter lack of rain in the area, and amazing given the visual evidence as to how much water had actually been required to carve through all the solid rock, form the eventual pathways, and move the substantial debris that became scattered all around over time.
“Playa Arroyo Blanco” was what a sign set back a bit from the shoreline said.
It looked like a full-on tourist placard. Kind of an obscurely placed, thoroughly sun worn, cleverly crafted information display randomly provided by the park service.
However, it also appeared to be the sole evidence of any visitors whatsoever.
Made sense…I guess.
Further and further inland was where we found ourselves being led by the winding desert riverbed. Around each bend we were stunned by the variety of landscape. Unfathomable forces had been harnessed by nature to cut the very riverbed we stood in out of the mountainside. Evidence of the scope of that power was all around us.
Eventually, we reached a horseshoe shaped ravine that reached up thirty or forty feet above us.
Sheer rock walls had been sculpted into surreal shapes and forms by what had to have been enormous volumes of water at one time.
It was easy to imagine the water cascading from point to point, creating what had to be an absolutely epic waterfall; and yet impossible to fully comprehend the energy required to excavate wear away all that rock.
Fully intent on avoiding any rock-climbing mishaps, we agreed this marked our turnaround point. But what a finale.
Less than a couple of miles from the cliffside anchorage we had discovered was another spot we tried out for a bit. A number of small caves and unique white stone formations lining the shore had caught our attention.
Our new caveside anchorage.
After locating a clear sandy patch to drop anchor, we were able to take to the dinghy for a bit of a reconnaissance mission.
In true comic fashion, somehow the same recurring scene seems to play out like Groundhog Day as we approach unfamiliar and possibly questionable areas in the dinghy.
Steve’s attention is inevitably captured by some proverbial shiny object. Kris immediately recognizes this attraction while simultaneously recognizing a potential need for restraint.
In this case, the shiny object is a dark cave.
At this point, it’s a fifty-fifty split.
Sometimes ya gotta just dip your toe in the water. But you also have to know when it’s the right time to do it.
With a bit of swell or waves, a momentarily stalled dinghy engine, and a few bad decisions, it would be easy to see how things could go south quickly. Instead, we were fortunate to have nearly flat conditions on this day.
A different beach landing on a different day provided access for another excursion.
Immediately inland, the beach quickly established itself as another arroyo – a huge, dry riverbed carved over millennia by what seemed like now non-existent storm runoff.
In places the dry river bed seemed to be nearly as well established as a fully developed road. Yet, evidence of the phenomenal volumes of water during storm flash floods and the remnants of the chaos that would have created our surroundings were all around us.
As the riverbed continued, our surroundings were both desolate and amazing.
Working our way up the ravine, we found each turn revealed a different landscape. As our surroundings morphed from scene to scene, I joked to Kris that, had we been watching a movie, I would have criticized the set designer as being a unrealistically over the top.
And, then…all of a sudden…in the middle of absolutely fucking no where…we stumbled across a structure. WTF?
A cement wall built across the ravine in a completely random place. Like a dam. Only now, completely back-filled with earth. Strange.
We pressed on, but it seemed even more eerie now.
One of those times when it begins to occur to you that, again, if you were watching a movie, the music would be building and something dramatic would be about to happen. This would be the time to turn back…
We had read about big horn sheep being introduced to the island forty some years ago as part of an experiment to revive a once native population in the area. Over time it had morphed into a holiday retreat location for rich American big game hunters which apparently helped sustain the program.
The skeleton we stumbled across both seemed to confirm the story as well as provide another nearly cliche prop for our non-existent movie set. It also made us wonder if the bizarre cement wall we had seen earlier was, in fact, a dam for some sort of drinking water reservoir.
Mysteries to ponder…
The trail just kept going and going, winding its way further inland.
Wide open expanses of gravel covered riverbed scattered with cactus and brush choked into rocky gullies and channels, all displaying the deeply carved remnants of long gone violent river turbulence, relentless currents, and countless waterfalls.
Over and over again we came across seemingly incongruent environments. A deeply carved riverbed in the middle of the desert. Rock cliffs and boulders embedded with shells a hundred feet above sea level and a quarter mile inland from the shore. A manmade cement wall tucked in a random gully. Strange and distinctly different shapes, patterns, colors, and materials everywhere. Volcanic seizures, seismic activity, long term changes in sea levels, hurricane winds and rains, desert parching — all pitching in to create this bizarre and strange landscape.
We could have continued walking all day. While it appeared the terrain was beginning to open up more and more as we worked our way higher and higher in elevation, numerous peaks and valleys in every direction made it impossible to tell exactly which direction the riverbed would follow.
We had shoes on…but that hardly qualified us as well enough equipped to justify continuing on a day trip through the desert.
The final over-the-top culmination of our cliche non-existent “spaghetti western” movie set had to be nothing other than a tarantula crawling across the dry riverbed.
For Kris, this was a game ender.
To Kris’ further dismay, I had to see it as yet another video moment…
Over a number of days, we learned that our newly discovered anchorage was primarily a fair weather haven. Any wind from the east or south made things untenable quickly, and even a mild wrap-around swell coming around either side of the island could create very sloppy conditions.
Deep water swells shallowed quickly as they reached the rocky shoreline. Waves bouncing off the cliffside ricocheted backwards, and the completely different timing and angle of these reflecting waves could result in a quite uncomfortable, rolling and inconsistent surface chop.
In the right conditions, our newly found anchorage was a private oasis. In less than ideal conditions, we were best off finding an alternate location.
Punta Colorada, five miles to the south offered a bit more protection, as did Punta Perico, five miles to the north on the opposite side of Puerto Salinas.
After a brief return to Punta Colorada, we resumed a counter-clockwise direction around the island, opting to jump past Puerto Salinas, which already had a number of boats at anchor, bringing us to Punta Perico.
We had seen the big horn sheep skeleton earlier during our hike up the riverbed.
Coyly, I now joked to Kris that this ridge looked like a prime location for mountain goats.
Kris’ reply was something along the lines of, enough with the fucking wildlife…first burros, now goats.
Hmmmm…
Sometimes you just gotta rub it in. Sometimes you’d best keep ya’mouth shut.
We never made it to the top of that ridge that the big horn sheep trekked over, but we did make it part way up.
And, regardless of our location, we can almost always count on yet another stunning sunset to bring the day and happy hour to a dramatic close.
We were also beginning to realize our dolphin encounters recently were becoming as consistently memorable as our sunsets.
While at anchor at Punta Perico, we were privileged to have one of those encounters while we were in the dinghy right next to Exit with a rather large and ridiculously active group of dolphins. We noticed something smaller seemed to be swimming a bit erratically next to one of the other dolphins.
As the dolphin approached us, we realized it was a mother accompanied by a baby! We gave them space, but the mother dolphin obviously felt comfortable enough to visibly herd and direct the baby towards us a number of times.
Holy shit.
The baby sometimes appeared to be still working out the whole swimming and breathing thing, awkwardly bobbing its head above water and occasionally resting on the mother’s back for support. It may have been not more than a few days old. Very visible stripes on the baby’s side, remnants from the time it spent folded up in the mother’s womb we later learned, apparently remain for up to six months.
Unbelievable.
We had spent nearly three weeks at Isla Carmen. Strange how, as the days and weeks turn into months and years aboard Exit, many of the islands we visit begin to blend together when it comes to recollections. Some however, like Isla Carmen, stand out distinctly as unique and particularly memorable.
While the seventy degree water temperature has kept us out of the water the entire time, the intriguing landscape has repeatedly enticed us to wander into the desert. Not our typical modus operandi.
Incredible hikes.
Amazing views.
A baby dolphin in the wild.
Wow.
After departing Punta Perico, instead of continuing our counterclockwise direction, we returned to our cliffside anchorage.
And yet, even with all of the exploration and excitement, Kris still managed to find time for one of her favorite pastimes…cooking. I say that already flinching in anticipation from the well deserved smack I am about to receive.
Circumstances were aligning for us to experience what we had heard referred to as the La Paz boomerang effect.
Sunset that evening, a finale of colors, once again proved spectacular.
Only two days earlier, ten minutes after sunset, the colors of twilight could have been painted by the mind’s eye of an entirely different though equally brilliant artist.
Stunning.
Still, it was time to go.
