Exploring Cabo ~ Derek's Travels

On the way to my free breakfast and timeshare presentation, Cervando told me what answers they'd want to hear, what they'd tell me and what to do to get what I wanted. I had booked a discount tour of the bay with an hour on a jet-ski, but I'd have to show enough interest to warrant the discount. I first met with a nice young lady that took me to breakfast at Cabo Villas, an amazing hotel overlooking the water. We had plates of fruit, eggs and a few local specialties while I filled out some forms about my types of vacations and personal information. Of course, I had to exaggerate a little about my preferred type of trip and accommodation, since they probably don't sell timeshares living in the back of a van. Next, I toured the rooms, which actually were pretty impressive and was escorted upstairs to meet with a nice Canadian woman who tried to sell me on the deal. After about half an hour of talking details and numbers, she realized that I wasn't really interested, so she brought in another American woman who was apparently the closer. They wanted me to sign a 30 year deal for a timeshare, claiming that I'd surely be able to rent it out and make my money back in the first few years, in addition to getting three "almost free" weeks at other destinations in their network around the world, at my discretion. Although it did sound good, I finally convinced them that I wasn't ready to make a $10,000 investment after two hours of contemplation. Everything they said made sense, but there are obviously loopholes and scams built into it, so I didn't want to deal with it. They signed my form, and I was off down the beach, heading for my waverunner. Unfortunately, I realized that I had left Cervando's cell phone number on one of the papers at the office, so I had to head back. I talked to a few different people and found that his number actually wasn't on that paper; he had written it on an earlier one that was had since revised. So, I questioned a few people about Neftali and Cervando, though no one seemed to know how to get in touch with them. Since they were planning on picking me up after work that night, I absolutely needed a way to get in touch with them, as I'd have no idea how to get back to their generic-looking house, and my stuff was there. I finally found the phone number of Antonio, a random airport worker that was said to work with Neftali. I called him, and he was on his day off, but he was luckily able to find Neftali's number after about ten minutes of searching. So, I called Neftali and then Cervando, and we agreed to meet up later that night.

Relieved that I wasn't stranded in a new town without any of my things, I walked down the crowded beach, through hawkers trying to sell me bracelets and hats, and I soon found the jet-skis at the end of the beach. I took my waterproof bag and my camera and hit the water. The water of the Pacific side of the narrow peninsula is said to be very, very rough, and the bay wasn't quite placid either. My wave-runner jumped up and down as I maneuvered the waves, taking in the views of the rocky coastline and steep hills that jut out into the sea. I visited the famous arch at land's end and even positioned myself to take a few pictures, though it's a hard prospect while battling the waves and constant wake of the numerous fishing boats, water taxis and other jet-skiers. Undeterred, I got some nice views of the rocks and hidden beaches before heading back in as my hour expired. The thin ridge of cactus covered hills leading dropping off here and there for small patches of beach was impressive, especially at the end with the 40 or 50 foot archway, surrounded by blue-green water and at Playa del Amor, a golden beach near the point which is almost inaccessible by land, with the tourists arriving via water taxi. Note that I said almost inaccessible.

After my jet-ski, I began walking around town, hoping for some shade and relief from the sweltering day. I made my way around the marina and found the beginning of the peninsula, hoping to try to make my way to Playa del Amor by walking up the steep hills or around the slippery rocks. I passed by a local beach of school-children and their parents and continued on, making my way up the hill, avoiding the cacti and sharp rocks. With a fence blocking my way, I headed back down towards the water and attempted to hug the coastline as I walked onward, sweat pouring down. I eventually made it to a small cave carved out by the water. As I crossed, the slippery rocks got the better of me, and both of my shoes were soon soaked. I pushed on, wary of the steeper rocks ahead. Just as I was making my way around, a local called out from behind me, asking if I was trying to make it to Lover's Beach (Playa del Amor). I said yes, and he told me that it wasn't really possible that way, as it would become much more dangerous with a few other caves. Disappointed, I turned around, but he then offered to take me there. I agreed, thinking that maybe he had a boat, but then I saw him deftly make his way up the steep rocks towards the top of the hill. I followed along the treacherous climb, figuring that I could do it if he could do so in sandals. Within minutes we had reached the peak, offering a wonderful view of the town across the bay and the rocks and beaches below. We continued along the ridge and eventually saw the Playa del Divorcio (Divorce Beach), which connects with Lover's Beach. Nearly deserted, this massive stretch of sand was much grander than I had expected with large Pacific waves pounding on the yellowish sand. We hung out at the two beaches for an hour or so before heading back to town, making our way up and down the rocks again before parting ways.

I was happy to have had Sergio as a guide, as I definitely wouldn't have made it on my own. As a local, he knew every rock and every step of the challenging walk, guiding me along the way.
After that, I made it back to town for a fast food dinner at a tasty local place consisting of some tacos and quesadillas. So good, in fact, that I returned for one more just before heading home for the night. Neftali and Cervando soon picked me up, and I headed home with them. I met Cervando's two roommates: a girl from Mexico City and Victor, a Mexican friend from Chicago. We talked for a few hours while the music blared from the stereo. Cervando told me stories about being in jail in LA with Axl Rose while we enjoyed his Guns N Roses collection, and Victor preached on about his mission to promote cultural awareness and pride, renouncing his earlier gang days. They also criticized the girl for not knowing much about Mexican culture and the general attitude of many of those from Mexico City, feeling that they are superior and higher-class than other Mexicans. The next morning, I bid farewell to the two of them, extremely happy to have met some 'locals' and shared an authentic experience, despite the less than luxurious stay and loud music going into the wee hours of the morning, making sleep a bit difficult. Before I left, I was treated to a nice breakfast by the girl from Mexico City (I never caught her name), and I took a taxi to the bus station. My next stop would be about three hours North, in the coastal town of La Paz.