Marty Magic Blog

We wake before sunrise and climb the ladder up to our roof to watch the sunrise psychedelics unfold.

East Cape Baja Sunrise

It is spectacular show of vermillion, purple and orange climaxing with the blinding rays of the sun radiating up from the horizon.  Downstairs I boil water over our propane stove and with our French Press, make coffee at least as good if not better than Starbucks. We sit on the terrace gazing at the reflective blue of the ocean until the brilliance forces us to turn our chairs towards the majesty of the desert mountains, a collage of subtle purples and muted greens in the morning light.

Zacititos Beach Wave

The day is growing overcast but threatens to be a hot one and we set out on an early morning beach walk.  We take a circuitous route because Art wants to show me the newest construction monstrosity up the coast from us. Overall the architectural design of the new house is pleasing, but its infinity pool and a raised walkway out to the palapa covered terrace intrude far onto the beach. It obliterates the previously pristine ocean view of an old time resident. Undoubtedly, this will also happen to us but in the meantime we take great pleasure in the modesty of our house and its ocean and mountain views.

Zacititos Beach

The New House on the Beach

I write and putter the morning away, cook a simple pepper and onion frittata on the stove top that we eat in the open air ambiance on our terrace. Less is sometimes more.

All of Zacatitos is invited to a party tonight and I’m anxious, not knowing what to expect or what I should bring to contribute.  Potlucks are challenging enough with a supermarket around the corner and the modern conveniences of a fully equipped kitchen.  Art assures me that we need not contribute anything more than drinks.  Not wanting to arrive famished and find that there is no food, I insist that we have a light dinner at Zac’s beforehand. It is dark when we leave the restaurant with only casual directions to the party; follow the main road back towards Punte Gorda, turn right on the dirt road just before the point and follow it around until we hear the music. We make several wrong turns, backtracking and retracing our route before I determinedly set off on foot, down a rutted and rocky road with my solar lantern in hand to ascertain if the presumed road is passable to our rental car. Art drives the car behind me lighting my way and I feel exhilarated in the adventure. The desert night air is cool and smells of sage, sea and dirt. I want to bottle the fragrance. I motion Art over and around obstacles and ruts in the road sorely wishing for a four wheel drive vehicle but we soon hear the rhythm of the music and follow the rock and roll beat and park at the end of a row of envyable 4 wheel drive vehicles.

We enter the open gates of the property, moving towards the music and the lights spilling colored star dust across a cement pad where silhouettes undulate to the rhythm. I recognize Herb, playing the electric guitar and am soon introduced to Dr. Dave who later on will make music on the keyboard. Two other guitarists strum out the beat and a petit dark haired woman sings vocal. The party is not as big as my imagination; perhaps 30-35 guests; dancing, drinking and talking about the things that one talks about if one lives off the grid in Baja. I recognize a few faces and weave my way towards the modest kitchen to contribute my bottle of wine. Most guests are drinking beer or tequila but I locate a cork screw and pour Art and myself a plastic cup of wine to share. For me, socializing is not always easy but I am happy to meet more of our neighbors and to connect the dots between houses, faces and each person’s unconventional pursuit of happiness in this eclectic community. The music is loud and danceable and Art pulls me onto the cement floor where lights spin and sparkle and I happily gyrate and watch the guests from afar. The party is not wild but there is magic here tonight. No police will arrive to quiet us and there are no conventions to uphold. It is retro and timeless and all inclusive. We mingle periodically and Art, much more the social butterfly, introduces me to people whom he knows, some aging hippies like ourselves, many in quirky costumes and each one with a story to tell. We stay until the music ends and drive a less rugged route back to our Casa on the knoll.

The rugged topography below of weathered red rock mountains is breathtaking.  Aluvial fans spill forth from the mountains and arroyos snake  patterns in the landscape in their determined quest for the sea.  Irregular fingers of land dip into steely blue water and creamy ribbons of sand outline the jagged shoreline. Half moon coves, the intoxicating color of Pariaba tourmaline, form jeweled scallops along the coastline.  Small islands, the lost puzzle pieces of this aerial landscape, float weightlessly in an ocean of blue.

Wild Baja Sea of Cortez _Photo credit – Huffington Post

I am making my 4^th trip this year between San Jose, California to San Jose del Cabo and the journey is much of the joy. Whereas the other three escapes here have been to recharge, write and design, this trip is timed to experience the Day of the Dead and to be creatively inspired. Visions of sugar skulls are dancing in my head!

Art picks me up at the airport in a Ford Taurus rental car. He has already spent a week in our off the grid beach bungalow but without the luxury of a car.  He abhors renting cars in Mexico and when he landed last week, he opted instead to walk a mile from the air port to the bus station to catch the local bus into San Jose. The sun is blazing and his first stop is the local market where he purchases a straw hat. After refueling at a local taco stand he walks to the tourist strip to procure a taxi ride to our house; 35-45 minutes away depending on the road conditions.  The second half of the drive to our house is a rutted dirt road and the taxi drivers all declined the fare. Not to be discouraged, Art asks the price of the ride to Buzzards Restaurant at the end of the paved road. Art agrees to the 200 peso price but first goes to buy a fat black marker and to find a piece of cardboard.  Having procured these essentials he returns and engages a taxi ride to Buzzard’s. Dropped at the end of the paved road, Art writes ZAC’s in bold print on his cardboard sign and begins to walk the dirt road paralleling the pristine coastline.  One car passes and the occupant’s wave but the second car stops and Dr. Dave give’s Art a ride to our doorstep.  We now have yet another friend in our small off the grid community.

Art walking the road with Burros

Although I am a rather good sport, Art knew that I would not be amused to repeat his mode of transportation out to our beach shack and yesterday, he rented a car and meets me at the airport holding a cardboard sign with Marty Magic printed boldly in black marker. It’s a good thing because with a week’s growth of beard and wearing his straw sombrero, I might not have recognized him.   Each trip down here becomes easier as we make connections and learn simple tricks to surviving in Baja. BBB is a 10 month new, rental car agency, a mile from the airport and operated by Gringo Gary. Unlike the airport based car rental’s that charge exorbitantly and grimace when they learn where we wish to drive the car, BBB’s rates are $40 a day and  Gary was undisturbed when Art tells him that we will be driving   up the East Cape.

Art maneuvers our car out of the airport and along the main road into town.  A week apart has been good for us and we chat happily leaving the stress of our California life at home.  Before stopping at the Mega Store for supplies, Art takes me to a small tile shop he has discovered in an industrial part of San Jose. We admire small decorative tiles, choose several and run a few other mundane errands. Picking up supplies at the Mega Store is our final stop and we loose track of time in the immensity of the place and find ourselves driving back in twilight, our rental car heavily loaded with 2 x 4’s, tiles and groceries.

The fading light and long shadows makes traveling the rutted and rocky dirt road challenging and Art takes it cautiously uttering only a few four letter words when our rental car scrapes bottom. I feel a sense of magic and anticipation as we bump along and I see the familiar landmarks. The road parallels the shimmering Sea of Cortez below, an indigo blue in the twilight.  The mountains are jagged purple silhouettes against the western sky, quickly turning to rose as the sun dips low behind them.

Sunset over the East Cape Baja Mountain Range

Gravel crunches as Art pulls up into our driveway and we carry our supplies upstairs. I quickly appraise our small play house and am pleased with the improvements that Art has made during the past week.  Our futon is no longer on the floor but rests on a wooden platform that he has constructed using the discarded futon frame, saw horses and his ingenuity. Two new dressers divide the living area from our sleeping space, replacing the disintegrating wicker ones that came with the house. (The dresser saga will be recorded in a separate entry.)  I step onto our terrace and inhale the 360 degree view, the western sky now ablaze with streaks of red and orange. We stow the perishables in the cooler, grab our Ikea solar lantern and walk the dirt road in the direction of Zac’s.

Zac’s is the only commercial establishment in this small enclave and is the watering hole and gossip center of the community. We climb the stairs up to the large open air Palapa and Carlos and Jesus greet Art by name and welcome me back.  It is Taco Tuesday but early in the season and just a few tables are occupied. Jesus brings Art his usual margarita and me a glass of Pino Gricio and we dine on a combination of fish, shrimp and carne tacos and enjoy the comfortable and familiar ambience of Zacs.

Decompressing at Zac’s Bar and Grill

I sleep fitfully this hot and breezeless October night