I learned from locals that these mountains are called the Sierra de Laguna, a spinal column of peaks running north-to-south from La Paz to San Jose del Cabo, the uplifted granitic interior of the southern quarter of this, one of Earth’s longest peninsulas. Most come here for the surf, but I’d always end up studying the peninsula’s jagged mountainous skyline instead, wondering what was up there. Todos Santos is an hour north but a world away from Cabo San Lucas, an art-inflected enclave smelling more of tacos and Sex Wax than Cabo Wabo and Chanel. Not all the way south, which places you in Cabo San Lucas, home to Señor Frogs and whistling bartenders and watered-down shots of tequila, eighteen overwatered golf courses in a parched desert. There was a perfectly good explanation, though, for east was where the mountains were, and mountains were where I wanted to be most.įor the past two decades, my family would travel to Todos Santos, set near the southern tip of Mexico’s Baja peninsula. Instead of watching the Pacific at sundown, I’d find myself looking east into Baja’s interior, transfixed. It began years earlier at sea level, in the quaint pueblo of Todos Santos, Baja Sur, Mexico, after I broke the cardinal rule of beachcombing: Never turn your back to the ocean. This article is featured in the Summer 2022 print issue of Trail Runner. Heading out the door? Read this article on the new Outside+ app available now on iOS devices for members!
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |