I began coming here in my 20’s (over 40 years ago!) and visited steadily ever since. When I say steadily, I mean I don’t think I missed a year in those 40. This place ‘entered’ my soul to such a degree that I am now referred to as a ‘Choyero’ locally, which is a kind of adopted resident (it is a term of endearment).

It is impossible for me to say ‘why I came here’ because I came for so many reasons, and those reasons changed over the years, but what didn’t change is my love of this place. Often times people get tired of places or even the dreaded ‘bored’. This is a concept I cannot imagine.

If you look at the geography, or more importantly, transect it, it is incomparably alluring. Mountains, rivers (few), deserts, beaches, volcanoes, ancestral dwellings, cave art, ranchos, islands and more. Over the years I have driven, ridden, sailed, motored, paddled and flown in close proximity to and through all of the aforementioned locations. Even as I write, floods of memories come forth. I have camped probably in hundreds of these sites. I have hung from ropes on rappel to access difficult locations, been on horseback, sailed my Holopuni from Loreto to Los Barriles, flown in private planes, kayaked the islands, motorcycled remote tracks, driven 4 wheel drive roads (which Mexicans travel by Celica!) Guided ‘National Geographic” photographers and others. I have participated in celebrations, been rescued by locals, had breakdowns (but no break-ins), flat tires, I’ve climbed volcanos to spectacular views, scrambled up waterfalls, swum in remote oasis, journaled on deserted beaches, been pulled over by cops literally hundreds of times (more than once, twice in a day!) And been offered kindness and assistance beyond my ability to repay.

Isla Espiritu Santo

The juxtaposition of the American narrative in regards to Mexico is nothing short of a travesty. The narrow reporting of violence, though present, is no more or less proportionate than almost any place on earth. ‘Murder capital’ etc, though sadly true in the drug culture (fueled by the demand from the north) is to ignore the 98% of the colorful culture, the extraordinary kindness, the care for the elderly, the song, the dance, the food, the beauty, the history, the diversity, the architecture, the pace, the calamity & chaos, flora, fauna, and so much more. 40 years ago I would go to Cabo San Lucas (when it looked like this) and San Jose del Cabo when it was a little desert town. We would camp ON THE BEACH with our car (Suburu or Toyota pick up), get up, have tacos, surf or kayak and rinse and repeat (oh yes, there was tequila in the equation back then) we would dive at Cabo Pulmo long before it became a National Marine Sanctuary, paddle to Isla Espiritu Santo long before is was made a restricted island, camp on the beaches, buy fish and shrimp from the fisherman and live life on very scant terms.

Over the years, my experience and affinity grew and after a while, my friend Clair said that he and his partner were selling their property “Can I buy her out?” That was my quick response, and the rest, as they say, is history. Of course, countless stories of trailering Airstreams down ensued, and the calamity of trying to craft a little sanctuary here was nothing short of comical. In the early days, before banks, cell phones, wifi, ATM’s getting things done was VERY different and very slow, but I loved it. Flat tires got repaired in 15 minutes for $2, tacos were 50 cents, and gas was 40 cents a gallon (some people would drive from San Diego to TJ just to fill up their tanks!).

I worked for Baja Expeditions for a while (RIP Jeannie, RIP Tim) and got more in-depth experience in and around this magical peninsula. I donated 4 sea kayaks to Ricardo Amador so he could ‘start his own thing’ and we are friends to this day. He is now the proprietor of both ‘Mar y Aventuras’ guide service and La Posada Luna y Sol (Hotel in La Paz) our 40+ year friendship still gets us out on the Vermilion Sea regularly.

When the most turbulent year of my life arrived, Ellie’s death, my near death, Jeff’s death in Peru, and George's paralysis, I was thrust into a future completely unpredictable, I knew only one thing; I was NOT going to be the person who, perhaps 10 years later, says ‘I never dealt with that grief’ so I sold my house, left my business, ended my career, and came down to Baja to ‘Say no to everything for a year’. Baja was my sanctuary, and is to this day.

Now that so many decades have passed, Clair is no longer my partner here and the place is in my name. I have continued to make improvements, build palapas (palm frond roofs), and make this place into a conspicuous sanctuary with sacred gardens, gathering spaces, an altar, and a labyrinth in the center. I now (in ’24) live here with my two Mexican dogs, Loa y Sita.

They are my loving trusted companions and now friends to so many of my friends. There are 3 Airstreams on the property, each with its own bathroom, toilet, sink, and shower. These 3, plus the roof nest, are places where my guests come to ‘retreat’. As my work and vocation has taken me to the path of consulting and guiding and coaching, this place has become a place of healing, learning and calibrating. Workshops are held, ceremonies conducted, rituals practiced and time and space for peace to prevail support all who pass through this gate.

If you, a friend or family member are in need of such a place, you know how to reach me.