Return to Cabo

Back in 1999, I had a work trip that to this day, holds a place in my heart as one of my best work trips ever. It was one of those situations where everything that could go right, absolutely did. We went on a sunset booze cruise, only to learn that the whales were in season and were in a breaching kind of mood.  It's possible they had been rehearsing for our arrival. The synchronized swimming display they put on  would have wowed the most persnickety of Olympic judges. Once off the boat, we decided to continue the party at Sammy Hagar’s then newish bar, CaboWabo. We were drinking, playing pool having an all around good time. I remember I was chatting with a cool tatted up guy when a waiter surreptitiously approached and recommended we stick around. Seeing as we had no plans of leaving, this was not a big ask. Maybe 30 minutes later, a divider opened onto a separate room. The bar got quiet and four guys sauntered onto the stage. They were Sammy Hagar, John Entwistle from the Who, Slash and the tatted guy from the pool table, who turned out to be Matt Sorum from Guns and Roses. They felt like jamming and had a stage & sound system at their disposal. This lucky turn of events made us the lucky recipients of an intimate unannounced concert. The next couple of days were similarly charmed. Our group was a fun gregarious bunch, meaning it didn’t take long before we knew half the doormen and bartenders in town. Free drinks flowed and eventually we even got gifted a free parasailing trip (following a comically brief time share presentation). Just total dream trip.

This month, 25 years later, I returned to Cabo for the first time. Would it be as great as I remembered? Of course not, nostalgia makes even things that were already fantastic to begin with, better. But it was 3 days by the water so who am I to complain?

My first observation, the quiet beach town I remembered was no more. In its place, we found four massive cruise ships in ports, touts on every corner selling the same excursions, an unfortunate proliferation of chain restaurants- hell, even CaboWabo is now a chain- and prices jacked up for the mainly American hordes. Disappointing but such is “progress”. Like the saying goes, when life hands you lemons, shove that shit into a Dos Equis bottle and make the best of it. 

On our first day, my friend Orlando and I took up one of the ever present touts and joined a sightseeing tour out to the famous arch. With so many tourists in town, it was like an aquatic mosh pit out there with everyone jostling for the perfect Insta photo. Along the way, our guide pointed out other notable rock formations such as Scooby Doo, Neptune's Finger and a lion (that actually looks like a bear).

Pelican rock after an apparent sea lion takeover. 

I don't care what anyone says, that is a bear.

Neptune's Finger

Scooby Doo, where are you?

Two steps from Lover's Beach sits Divorce Beach. That's not me being cynical, that's just geography. One explanation is that Lover's Beach pictured here sits on the calm Sea of Cortez side while walking to the other side puts you in the strong Pacific Ocean currents.

The Window to the Pacific.

Cabo Rush Hour

In order to get a respite from the crowds, we had the boat drop us off at El Balconcito beach, a small spit of sand along the rock formations, only accessible by boat. The combination of hot weather, cool water and a tote bag full of drinks proved to be exactly what we needed. We hung out until the boat returned at the appointed time.

I could have stayed longer but it was Thursday, meaning nearby San Jose was having their weekly art walk. We also happened to be staying in San Jose. During the perfect trip, I had stayed there, as well. If Cabo was a sleepy beach town back then , San Jose was downright comatose. This too had changed. The downtown area now boasted a busy strip of bars and restaurants, colorful street art and the promised spate of art galleries. As with other art walks I’ve done, the quality varied pretty greatly but the fact that  there were as many galleries as there were, was something to be commended.

I don’t know how late the party continued as I had to get up early on day 2. Last time around, I was not a certified diver. Now that I was, I wanted to check out what lay beneath the surface. The best diving is said to be in Cabo Pulmo, which is approximately two hours away. Try as I might, I couldn’t find a dive package to get there and back for under $300. Instead, I settled for diving closer to home. Specifically, I would be returning to the arch, Scooby Doo et al. When I showed up at the wonderful Cabo Deep Blue divers, I was delighted to learn that it would just be myself and the dive master, Chalo. He had been diving these waters forever and had a keen eye to find even the most elusive sea creatures. Since it was just the two of us, we were able to set out before the appointed dive time, leaving us and a couple of fishermen as the only boats in the previously jam packed waters. 

On our first dive, we drifted through the North Wall, Pelican Rock and Medio dive sites. Along the way, we spotted a couple of reef sharks, plenty of pufferfish and my personal highlight, a guitar shark aka guitar fish aka it’s actually neither fish nor shark but a species of ray. I had previously only read about them so in my eagerness to know if I was finally seeing one in person, I engaged in a quick game of underwater charades.

                                             

The second dive, back at the North Wall, was more uneventful. Instead of spotting marine life, we dedicated our time to retrieving the plentiful garbage that resulted from all the human life inhabiting these waters. In the span of 50 minutes or so we recovered a men’s shirt, a snorkel and mask, a small rubber iguana (which for a brief but excited moment I believed to be real), a small weed pipe and a tiny cowboy.

Post dive, I figured it was time to return to CaboWabo. This time around there was no jam session, no pool playing and no Matt Sorum but I was happy to see amongst all the framed photos, a picture from the very show I’d witnessed.

The stroll down memory lane continued later that day with a sunset/ booze cruise. We had just missed whale season, so other than some late stragglers my friends spotted in San Jose, there were no graceful humpbacks to guide us out to sea. Their absence may have also been due to the dj’s disturbing penchant for playing the kind of line dance songs that usually indicate you are at a shitty wedding (think Electric Slide, Marcarena, etc). Not even the whales wanted any part of that. I myself was one YMCA from heaving myself overboard. But the waiters were on their game, the scenery spectacular and the food was surprisingly good so again, life could be worse. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t a wee bit envious when we passed another packed boat jamming out to Titi Me Pregunto but once the tequila guy came around, I quickly got over it.

Always a nice touch to end the evening with fireworks.

My ratchet fix would come on day 3. It was another beautiful day. Cabo’s slogan of “no bad days” initially seemed a bit overly ambitious but after 3 days of cloudless skies, I was beginning to believe they were just stating a fact. Orlando and I decided to spend the day at Medano beach. This was the counterpoint to the first day’s Balconcito beach. Where B beach was quiet and relatively remote (albeit surrounded by cruise ships), this was Cabo’s party beach. After checking out a couple of options, we opted for the loudest and rowdiest of the party bars, the Mango Deck. We arrived early enough to grab prime real estate, a pair of lounge chairs straddling the line between the bar and the beach. On one side, were waiters diligently refilling our beer bucket. On the other, there was every type of souvenir vendor approaching the rope that divided us. I have said many a time that I am not a shopper. Given the choice between having to go to a mall or being locked in a room full of angry cobras, I’ll choose ‘here snakey, snakey’ every single time. But laying in the sun, cold drink in hand with actual good music blaring, I didn’t mind the retail onslaught. At one point, I even bought a particularly cute cover-up.

 

The hours flew by and soon it was time to get back to San Jose for dinner plans. It was to be a going away party for our lovely friend who was going to work elsewhere. She was excited for new beginnings yet sad to leave. One thing that struck her was how this, her last trip, was her best one yet. Cabo had done it again. It was beautiful to see how more than two decades and many changes later, the city still had the power to mesmerize.