I’m usually not one to make bold, declarative statements about plants, but today I’m going to make an exception. The cactus, dear readers, is one of the coolest plants on the face of the earth. I am enamored with the cactus. Never before has a plant so enraptured me and made me feel my own lack of Darwinian heft.
Consider the cactus. Consider, for the sake of this discussion, the Mexican cactus.
Here is a plant that lives in one of the harshest environments on the planet, wrenching from stubborn hot sands its daily rationing of water, water so scarce that few other plants or animals can establish the foothold of life in them. And yet these plants grow to Brobdinagian sizes, with thickened torsos and bulging limbs that Mr. Universe could only dream of. And then there are the spines. Is there anything more intimidating or menacing than the jacket of pins these plants wear?
The cactus demands respect. Of course, this also leads one to ponder whether there is a sadder side to cactus life. Is it also possible that these traits for hardiness also make the cactus the loneliest of plants? Thinking about it now, the notion almost brings tears to my eyes. This statuesque, sturdy, stately plant stands out there in the desert, mostly alone, surrounded by silent brethren, beaten by the sun, starved by the soil, and mostly shunned would-be lovers and friends. No one wants to hug a cactus.
Sigh.
These are kind of thoughts that went through my mind during my very recent week-long paddling trip down to Isla Espiritu Santo in Baja, Mexico. There is plenty of time when you travel in Mexico to ruminate on such things as the majesty and the emotional needs of the cactus, because the landscape is a gaping void of sand and, well, cactus. Not that there is anything but loveliness in this, but it does lead the mind to wander.
We were speeding along a ribbon of black highway out of Cabo san Lucas Mexico on our way to the town of La Paz, or The Peace, where we were scheduled to begin a week-long paddling journey in the Sea of Cortez. There were four of us, all taking a breather from the breakneck bustle of modern life to savor a few days on cerulean seas where our biggest worries would be shoulder fatigue and sunburn. It is hard to describe the incandescent thrill of starting a trip like this, the electric anticipation of having a full week ahead with your best friends in a place like Mexico. Let’s just say we were all VERY fired up.
We got to La Paz without much difficulty. The roads in Mexico are far better than I remember them from my road trips down there years ago, when I lived in San Diego and we’d bolt for the border in search of $5 cases of Corona and five-for-a-dollar fish tacos. In those days, Mexico seemed a Third World backwater, smelly, dirty and yet amazingly fun. Of course, one of the great attributes of a place like Mexico is that unlike most of the people who lived there, you could always leave.
Anyway, we pulled into La Paz and hooked up with our guide company in the early evening. The company, called Mar y Aventuras, had been recommended to me from a friend who works at Sobek, one of the top adventure outfits around. I’ll say right here up front that they did a wonderful job. I often don’t like to hire guides when I paddle, but having never been to Isla Espiritu Santo before, we figured it was a good idea. We didn’t know the terrain and the Island is a National Park, requiring permits and lots of restrictions (i.e. no fires, no taking anything with you but your trash, etc.). The island was also relatively large ,and so having someone who really knew that best places to camp and so forth was, we figured, a good idea.
And so, having arrived and signed in, we grabbed a meal of fresh fish at a nearby restaurant near the water, downed a couple of Modelos, and hit the sack at the outfitter’s hotel. In the morning, we had to be up early to hit the water.