After the wedding festivities subsided, The mis’ess and I flew from San Diego, California to the Baja Peninsula to honeymoon in beautiful Cabo, Mexico. We had both been to Mexico before on a missions trip, but this was completely different for obvious reasons.
We stayed at a five star all-inclusive resort called Presidente Inter Continental. Our room was on the second or third floor and gave us a breathtaking view of the Sea of Cortez, the white beaches and Sierra de San Lazaro mountains in the distance. The resort featured 2 pools, 6 restaurants on site, 24 hour room service, etc, etc. We were undoubtedly in paradise. But.. What we didn’t know until we arrived was the hotel was not actually in Cabo San Lucas. Cabo was thirty minutes away to the west of where we were staying. Fortunately, the Presidente graciously offered to provide a shuttle so we wouldn’t miss out on the full Cabo vacation experience. With a title like that I assume it was the president of Mexico himself. There was so much to do at the resort, it took us a couple of days to accept his offer and to venture out beyond the compound.
Ok – it wasn’t a compound, but believe it was gated.
As I mentioned earlier, this wasn’t our first time traveling internationally. My bride had been to Sicily (Italy), Copenhagen, and Australia with her family as a child. I had been to Belize, Guatemala, Sweden. We were both aware that being young newly weds and American to boot (we were only twenty-two and twenty respectively) in a foreign land made us stand out. We probably looked like a couple of lamb chops dipped in mint sauce and served up on a giant silver platter to all the merchants. But we didn’t care! We were star crossed lovers. The universe revolved around us and us alone. We had checked our brains along with our luggage back at the airport. Did I mention we were clueless? I happily over paid for everything as we meandered the streets. We didn’t have a plan. It was fun just being together.
Cabo San Lucas is known for The Arch, the distinctive rocky landmark that juts out the tip of the peninsula into the ocean – where the Pacific Ocean meets the Sea of Cortez. We eventually made our way down to the beach and there it was! We could see it with our very own eyes and it was something special even from afar. The sun was hot and glistened off its sandy stone surface. But the light seemed to stop there. The skies in the distance were dark and foreboding. The water was unusually choppy that day too.
The Presidente had informed us about El Arco back at the resort, so we knew that it was possible to take a boat ride to see it in all its glory. It was rumored (or advertised more likely) that if you talked nicely to certain captains, they might ferry you around to the opposite side of the Arch and let you spend a little time on Lover’s Beach.
As we were taking in the view, one of those very rumored captains called out us. He offered to take us out for twenty dollars. I think the currency exchange rate was nine to one back then. Nine pesos for every American dollar. That’s one hundred and eight bucks if I were Mexican. Seemed like a bargain to me.
Did I mention the reason the skies were black and the water so rough was because there was a hurricane making its way through the Gulf of Mexico?
Like the many sea gulls struggling to stay on course, we threw caution to the wind and wobbled onto the tiny boat. The captain seemed nice enough, but he barely spoke English. He smiled and laughed as we pulled away from the shore. I never really thought about it, but maybe he was a terrible person. What if he was a fugitive from justice somewhere in the world, who escaped from prison and was now taking up refuge south of the border… acting all cool as a hot tamale, like he was Captain Ahab or something?
The boat crested the first white cap and dropped hard. The fiberglass bottom let out a resounding GONG. Our compassionate sea criminal kept saying “It’s fine, it’s fine.” Our faces probably gave him a clue to how we were feeling about the trip so far. I was nervous, but my love was coming unglued. She kept asking “is this ok… or is it safe.” If the waves didn’t take us down, her death-grip on the sides of the boat would have, for sure! She kept saying, “I want to go back”. The captain seemed to not pickup on her not so subtle hints. So I finally spoke up and told him in no uncertain terms to “Take us back”. After another… you silly Amercians smile, he chucked to himself and turned the boat around.
If I were by myself on the boat with Captain Insano that day, I might have kept going. I might have pushed past the fear to reap the reward on the other side. But marriage is filled with many decisions and compromises. We didn’t get to see the Arch up close or to visit the little beach on the other side… but we did reach twenty years of marriage this past July. I would say the trade off was well worth it.