Before my summer shows begin, Art and I decide to take mini getaway to San Jose Los Cabos. Alaska Air offers inexpensive direct flights between San Francisco and San Jose leaving late morning and arriving San Jose early afternoon. We fly out on May 10th. The direct flight is just under 3 hours and we arrive shortly after 2:30 p.m. With just carry on luggage we are through customs quickly. Renting a car always makes Art nervous, but a friend has suggested U-Save car rental where we expect the rate to be $50 a day including insurance. Exiting the terminal we are bombarded by dozens of rental car shuttle drivers and taxi drivers, each one ploying for our business and promising the best rates. I intentionally did not make rental car reservations since on a previous trip we paid nearly double by reserving in advance. Overwhelmed by their aggression and with the rental car lots within view, Art and I set out walking the two long and dusty blocks until we come to U-Save car rental, sandwiched between Thrifty and Euro Car rentals as promised. We negotiate the expected rate of $50 per day including all inclusive zero deductible insurance. I sign paperwork that I can’t read hoping that what I am signing is what we have been promised. With Art in the drivers seat of a small Dodge, we exit the airport and I navigate us in the direction of La Paz. We drive Highway 1 north, the old road that connects San Jose Los Cabo with La Paz. This two lane road is narrow and winding and without a graded shoulder. If one swerves off the edge a 12″-18″ drop is most certain to cause an unpleasant accident. Gas tankers and trucks roar towards us at 100 kilometers an hour and “pelegrosa” curves are boldly marked with a series of yellow arrows and rows of imbedded metal road nodules. When we enter the small towns, very serious road bumps necessitate slowing to a crawl, and even at 5 kilometers an hour, they are jolting. Aside from the challenges of driving an unfamiliar road, the landscape is starkly beautiful. The desert is lush with fields of iconic saguaro cacti, bursting with orange blooms, and the montage of purple shadowed mountains morphs at every curve. The sky is a brilliant blinding blue, contrasting with the with the near white sand. We cross dozens of bridges spanning vast dry washes and as the road climbs, there are deep canyons lush with oasis of palms and small villages.
With our minds on rental cars, we neglected to change money at the airport, and foolishly we have no small bills, only three $100 bills. Finding a bank or ATM is a high priority and our first foray into a small town is unsuccessful. Further on, in La Brirreles, we find several closed banks, and one welcome ATM that magically regurgitates $100 worth of Mexican pesos.
There is an hour time difference between California and Baja and it is nearly 7:00 p.m. when we arrive at the outskirts of La Paz. We have some business to attend to in the morning and we successfully navigate to our destination. We are welcomed and shown to a guest cottage for the night. On a casual glance, the accommodations look fine, tucked behind the main house and adjoining a lovely garden. We quickly deposit our luggage in the room, close the French doors and walk next door to the restaurant within the shopping center. It is nearly 8:00 p.m. and we have no energy left to explore for an alternative dinner spot. The restaurant is tiny and the air within is still and hot. Unfortunately, the two tables outside sit in the sun and even at 8:00 P.M. the temperature is hot. We choose a table inside and order two icy margaritas. They arrive in large fluted handmade glasses and one each is enough to alter our consciousness. We relax into the Baja experience. Dinner is surprisingly good; my fish fresh and smothered with a lime salsa and the traditional Mexican platter that Art orders is good.
Returning to our guest cottage we find that there is no toilet paper or bath towels and the sheets are far from pristine. Happily, I have packed a set of clean sheets to use on our third night when we will stay in a bare bone beach cottage In Zacititos. There is an unpleasant odor along one side of the room but observing the many cats and dogs on the premises and the open, screen less windows I attribute the smell to the animals. Lulled by the margaritas and the long day, we fall asleep quickly. Several hours later, I awake to piercing cat meows. Having witnessed cats parading in and out our cottage window earlier, I assume the escalating meowing is the courting ritual between feral cats. The meowing continues and at one point I get up to investigate. The meowing immediately ceases and I return to bed and fall back into an uneasy sleep. As dawn sheds light into our room, I hear a frantic scratching coming from behind a sleeper couch against the wall. I move the couch but no cat scurries from behind and with horror, I grasp that a cat is most likely trapped within the sleeper couch. Tearing off the cushions I unfold the couch and a small flash of dark fur disappears further up into the hollow backing of the couch. I wonder when the last guests stayed in this private cottage, and how long this frightened animal, presumably kitten, has been trapped? I quickly surmise that the putrid smell I noticed last night was most likely from a deceased litter mate, and the frantic meows during the night were the anguished mother cat. I put a dish of water within the couch and leave it unfolded while we go to breakfast. I expect that with the room empty, the mother cat will rescue her kitten and nurse it back to health. Luis is our only contact here and I tell him the situation, trying to impress on him the importance that the couch must be left open. This is not a hotel, there are no maids to speak to; no one else to tell. We pack up and drive into La Paz to attend to our business.