As I sit here on my father’s roof deck in the East Cape of Baja, Mexico, the rhythmic crash of waves and the vast canvas of stars above me with the southern cross cresting the horizon, I’m reminded of the raw, untamed beauty of the world. It’s in these moments, away from the cacophony of daily life’s grind, that I find clarity and peace unparalleled by any other experience.
I’m reminded that immersing ourselves in nature is not just a luxury; it’s a necessity for our sanity.
I’ve been coming down to Baja since my father first built a home here over twenty years ago. He was off the grid with solar power and sustainable living before it was cool.
(Author’s photo: In Dad’s driveway and ready to hit the surf)
My recent trip brings a flood of memories washing over me and I’m reminded of the first time bringing my SEAL buddy Glen Doherty down with our surf crew. Great waves, jellyfish stings from the agua male, fresh Mahi Mahi, and free diving for lobster.
Yesterday, I slipped on my mask and flippers on the shore and looked out onto the Sea of Cortez, and it appeared to stretch out to infinity. Each wave tells a story older than time. Surfing and free-diving these waters, I’m nothing but a speck against the colossal power of the mother ocean. It’s humbling, exhilarating, and needed. The solitude of being in the sea isn’t lonely as I’m joined by migrating whales blowing water spouts just outside the lineup, and as I dive below the thermocline I can hear them singing. My time down here is a communion with something larger than oneself.
As I sit here on my father’s roof deck in the East Cape of Baja, Mexico, the rhythmic crash of waves and the vast canvas of stars above me with the southern cross cresting the horizon, I’m reminded of the raw, untamed beauty of the world. It’s in these moments, away from the cacophony of daily life’s grind, that I find clarity and peace unparalleled by any other experience.
I’m reminded that immersing ourselves in nature is not just a luxury; it’s a necessity for our sanity.
I’ve been coming down to Baja since my father first built a home here over twenty years ago. He was off the grid with solar power and sustainable living before it was cool.
(Author’s photo: In Dad’s driveway and ready to hit the surf)
My recent trip brings a flood of memories washing over me and I’m reminded of the first time bringing my SEAL buddy Glen Doherty down with our surf crew. Great waves, jellyfish stings from the agua male, fresh Mahi Mahi, and free diving for lobster.
Yesterday, I slipped on my mask and flippers on the shore and looked out onto the Sea of Cortez, and it appeared to stretch out to infinity. Each wave tells a story older than time. Surfing and free-diving these waters, I’m nothing but a speck against the colossal power of the mother ocean. It’s humbling, exhilarating, and needed. The solitude of being in the sea isn’t lonely as I’m joined by migrating whales blowing water spouts just outside the lineup, and as I dive below the thermocline I can hear them singing. My time down here is a communion with something larger than oneself.
(Author’s photo: the Arch in Cabo San Lucas)
Walking along the secluded beach in Zacatitos, my footprints are the only ones marking the sand. It’s a path of solitude that speaks volumes about introspection and self-discovery. My solitary footprints are a testament to the journey of life – unique, solitary, yet part of the grand tapestry of the universe. In these moments, I’m reminded of Thompson’s reminder to “Buy the ticket, take the ride.” Life is about embracing these journeys, the unknown, the solitary paths that lead us to self-discovery.
Stargazing here on the East Cape with a cold Pacifico beer, I’m reminded of our place in the universe – small, yet connected to a vast cosmos. It’s a cosmic perspective that puts our earthly troubles of politics and war into context. These stars have witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the birth and death of stars, and yet here they are, unchanged, a constant reminder of the eternal dance of the universe.
(Author’s photo of the full moon eclipsed by a large Baja cactus)
My escape to the East Cape of Baja is more than a getaway. It’s a journey into the heart of what it means to be alive. It reminds me that we are part of something much larger, a complex yet beautiful mystery.
My advice? Leave your troubles behind, even if just for a moment. Immerse yourself in nature, let the waves guide you, the stars inspire you, and the solitude transform you.
My father, Jack, has always reminded me to “Take the trip.”
So I’d nudge you now to also embark, pack your bags, embrace the adventure, and find your own East Cape.
Originally published on Brandon Webb’s blog here.
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