Spring Break in San Felipe

by the Wizard2009-04-15 17:37:33 (edited 2010-06-28 10:40)

San Felipe San Felipe is a quaint town in Mexico, positioned around 200 kilometers south of Mexicali along the Gulf of California. It boasts a steady population of approximately 15,000 residents and is famous for its sprawling sandy beaches and picturesque desert landscapes. During the late 1980s, in my youthful twenties, I embarked on three adventures to this beautiful locale. Back then, my financial resources were limited, but my friends and I relished our time camping near Clam Beach, which is located just north of the town. For many years, I had thoughts of returning. After a two-decade hiatus, I finally managed to revisit.

Regrettably, the only feasible time for my trip coincided with my children's Spring Break. About half a year prior, when I reserved the lower unit of this condo Baja Juliet cautioned me that between Spring Break and Semana Santa (Holy Week), the area would be teeming with visitors. I am not fond of crowded places, yet the timing was beyond my control.

As April 4 approached, stories in the media regarding drug-related violence in Mexico became prevalent in the headlines. However, the analytical side of me fought the urge to be deterred. Statistically speaking, the risk of an American being killed due to crime or terrorism is incredibly low compared to the likelihood of dying from heart disease or cancer. Nonetheless, nearly everyone I disclosed my travel plans to expressed concern for my safety. For instance, a friend who kindly agreed to look after my cat sent me an email saying,

"Just so you know, I’m not in favor of your trip to Mexico. I believe it's too risky and unwise. Please think of your family!"

While I can't claim to be a specialist in Mexican crime statistics, my understanding is that the violence tends to be isolated in significant border towns, primarily involving conflicts between rival gangs and law enforcement. Juliet frequently assured me that San Felipe is quite secure.

The group for my journey included my wife, our three children (two daughters aged 2 and 11, and a 6-year-old son), my mother-in-law, and myself. It was a long ten-hour odyssey driving from Vegas to San Felipe. Most of our travel took place on narrow two-lane roads. We crossed the border at Mexicali, skillfully avoiding any encounters with the infamous Tijuana drug cartel. About 20 kilometers of the Mex-5 highway, just north of San Felipe, was undergoing repairs, leading us onto an alternative, poorly maintained route that added approximately 30 minutes to our journey. Fortunately, we arrived without any issues. Surprisingly, my 2-year-old daughter, who typically screams in frustration after four hours in a car, was calm and well-behaved.

Upon arrival around 6:00 PM, I was greeted by Baja Juliet, who kindly showed me around the condominium. It was a charming three-bedroom, two-bath unit, complete with a porch that opened directly onto an endless stretch of sandy beach. The location was a bit south of downtown San Felipe, nestled within a small condominium community known as \"Villa de las Palmas.\" Much to my dismay, I found that the beach was crowded with ATVs and dune buggies, all roaring up and down without mufflers. Some were racing and performing stunts. Juliet expressed her apologies regarding the noise, insisting that it was usually much quieter.

Tacked up on the condo wall were three rules: no ATVs, no fireworks, and no littering. That evening, however, the second rule was blatantly ignored. A sizable group of ATV enthusiasts from a nearby condominium set off bottle rockets and other loud, unremarkable fireworks until nearly midnight. It was disheartening to observe that the offenders were clearly Americans, as I could hear them speaking English. Every vehicle equipped for transporting ATVs had California or Arizona license plates. I felt a wave of embarrassment for my fellow Americans, witnessing their rude behavior.

The next day, while I strolled along the beach, I noticed a plethora of discarded firework remnants littering the vicinity of the ATV condominium. At least they were consistently violating all three established rules. For lunch, we decided to venture into town to savor one of Baja's most delightful offerings, the taco de pescado, or fish taco. Nothing competes with an authentic Baja fish taco, especially when enjoyed at a cozy restaurant with an ocean view. Just a word of advice: be sure to bring your own beer, as many smaller establishments refrain from serving alcohol, and only the tiny taco stands know how to make a proper fish taco. I’ve spent 25 years searching for a decent fish taco north of the border without any luck, and the quest continues. Even south of the border can be a challenge; only in Ensenada and San Felipe have I found satisfactory options. In Tijuana, seafood isn’t as popular, and Cabo San Lucas offers too Americanized a version. Across mainland Mexico, I’ve also come up empty-handed. I suppose it’s simply a delicacy unique to Baja.

With our appetites satisfied, we focused on our next mission: booking a fishing expedition. My six-year-old son has always expressed a desire to go fishing, and given that Las Vegas isn’t exactly a prime fishing location, and San Felipe has a history as a tranquil fishing village, we couldn’t miss this opportunity. In San Felipe, finding someone willing to take you fishing is hardly a challenge. The beach in town is lined with small boats and local fishermen offering their services. I happened to encounter Pio, who, speaking good English, invited us to return the following morning.

The next morning, bright and early, my wife, son, and I returned, inquiring for Pio. It turned out Pio was more of a manager for other fishermen than a boat captain himself. A pickup truck was busy pulling boats out to the shore due to the low tide. San Felipe experiences substantial tidal variation. When it was our turn, we climbed into the back of the truck that pulled the boat to the water's edge, hopped aboard, and off we went.

We were accompanied by a fisherman I hadn't met before, who spoke little English. He guided us south of town, roughly 100 yards off the coast. After about an hour and catching four fish ranging from 6 to 12 inches long, my wife suddenly became ill. I hadn’t even realized she was feeling unwell. She quietly held back her discomfort, not wanting to spoil the adventure. Naturally, I offered to cut our half-day trip short, but she declined. A little while later, I began to feel uneasy myself, and my son complained of a headache, so we collectively decided to head back.

Later that afternoon, upon returning to the condo, another fisherman, Leonardo, approached me on the porch after Juliet mentioned my interest in fishing. I explained our earlier attempt and how it hadn’t gone very well. He informed me that he operated a larger flat-bottomed boat, assuring me that the difficult weather conditions we had experienced were not typical. He claimed that Wednesday's weather was projected to be much calmer and promised a great time. After some convincing, we chose to book another fishing trip as a complete family.

Tuesday turned out to be a considerably nicer and more peaceful day. The obnoxious ATV group had departed, and overall noise levels dropped significantly, around 80%. We ventured back into town for more fish tacos for lunch. The remainder of the day was spent unwinding at the beach and playing some Connect Four. Settlers of Catan at night.

On Wednesday morning, Leonardo appeared, announcing that the weather forecast predicted rough conditions, leading him to cancel the trip, especially given my known concerns with seasickness. Thus, we enjoyed a repeat of our delightful Tuesday.

On Thursday morning, Leonardo arrived right on time, enthusiastic and ready to go. Our plan was to head to Consag Island, a rocky formation roughly a 30-minute boat ride out to sea at high speed. Despite the favorable weather, the journey proved to be quite bumpy. However, upon our arrival, we were greeted by a delightful sight of about 100 seals and a variety of seabirds. The fishing was fantastic; we caught fish roughly every 5 to 10 minutes across our three rods.

While I was thoroughly enjoying myself, the rest of my family was not as lucky. My 11-year-old daughter was the first to succumb to seasickness. She attempted to rest at the front of the boat but inevitably began to feel ill. Soon after, my wife could no longer remain seated and had to excuse herself to the front of the boat, and shortly thereafter, my mother-in-law also started to get sick. Although we had only been at the island for about 20 minutes, it became evident that the trip wasn’t going as planned, prompting us to return.

After dropping off the ladies right at our condo, I asked my son if he wanted to go back out fishing, but he mentioned another headache. I had a feeling Leonardo might not have enough fuel to get back to the island, so the two of us returned to nearly the same spot where Pio’s fisherman had taken us two days earlier. Since I had paid for a full day, I figured we might as well continue fishing.

The fishing was considerably slower this time around, but at least I could enjoy the experience. Leonardo seemed to be catching the majority of the fish for some reason. It turned out to be a patient game; once your hook was cast into the water, it was simply a matter of waiting for a fish to bite. Finally, I caught something, but as I pulled the fish from the water, a pelican that had been lounging nearby suddenly lunged for my catch. I had assumed the bird was simply waiting for scraps, but before I knew it, it had grabbed my fish. Instinct kicked in, and I wasn’t about to let a pelican win this tug-of-war. After a brief struggle, I managed to yank the fish away from the pelican’s beak and hoisted it triumphantly into the boat. I felt a sense of accomplishment for having won this battle of wits against a wild creature, though Leonardo didn’t seem too impressed; it was likely a routine occurrence for him with other tourists. The pelican, unfazed by its defeat, lingered around as if nothing had happened.

Later, Leonardo informed me that the boat actually didn't belong to him and explained he had to pay most of what I was paying to the actual owner. I asked if he ever thought about getting a bank loan to buy his own boat, but he merely laughed and said, \"Not in Mexico.\" He shared stories about nearly acquiring a boat in the past but pointed out that misfortune had always sabotaged his plans. It was clear he was hoping I might offer a loan, but I quickly redirected the conversation when the pitch became a bit too strong. Around 2:00 PM, he received a phone call, which implied it was time for us to head back.

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San Felipe is a quaint town in Mexico, situated approximately 200 kilometers to the south of Mexicali, along the Gulf of California. With a steady population of around 15,000 residents, it is famous for its endless stretches of sandy beaches and breathtaking desert landscapes. During the late 1980s, I visited this place three times in my early twenties, despite not having a lot of money at the time. My friends and I enjoyed camping near Clam Beach, located just north of the town. For many years, I’ve wanted to return. Finally, after about two decades since my last adventure there, I made my way back.

Regrettably, the timing of my visit coincided with my children's Spring Break. About six months prior, when I made reservations for the lower level of

Written by: Michael Shackleford