Mexico and Posada Englebert
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| Xanthus hummingbird |
February 19, 2003
The touristy town of Cabo San Lucas was too busy, noisy and brassy for our tastes, so we headed north on highway 19 along the Pacific Coast to escape. Cabo is the Spanish word for Cape and the town is located on the southern cape of Baja California. It is full of expensive hotels and tourists from all over the world.
About 20 minutes out of town, we spied a fruit stand along the highway. We find it difficult to pass these stands, not only because they often offer quality, local fruit, but they can be a good source of information. After loading up on tangerines, a ripe avocado, a few limes and a colorful, ripe papaya, I struck up a conversation with the lady in charge. I had seen a brochure advertising small, oceanside cottages at the nearby town of El Pescador, so I asked the lady about them. She explained that the owner was a Californian and that he offered cottages for rent for more than $100 per night on the Internet. But if we drove up, he would likely ask $70 – but he would take less.
A few miles further north, we found the sign for Brimwater Hollow. We turned off the paved highway toward the beach on a narrow, dirt road. Near the beach were several homes and no sign for the cottages. An American was standing on his porch close to the road, so I asked about the cottages. “I think he still has one available,” he said as he pointed to the house next door. By this time, the owner of the cottages was at his front gate, ready to greet us. Sure enough, he had a cottage that we could rent.
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“It will be $70 per night,” he explained.
“Can you give me a special rate for two nights? I asked.
“Sure” he replied, “for two nights the rate is $60 per night. Let me show you the room.”
The room was reasonably large, with a kitchenette on one end, a queen-sized bed, and a small black and white TV in the corner. The sound of the pounding Pacific surf reverberated through the open windows, but it was necessary to climb over the sandy beach to actually see the breaking waves. It looked like a great place to spend a couple of days, so we agreed on the price, brought in our luggage, food box and ice chest. We sat on the palm-roofed porch and chatted with the owner. He explained that although his satellite dish provided lots of channels, we can see only one at a time – whatever he is watching in his home. He also explained that he loved to watch football and other sports, so that if there is a game available then football rules. Otherwise, he would be open to receiving requests for our preferred TV channel.
“We are leaving tomorrow for the US, but the other renters can take care of you when we are not here. Please understand that these cabins are somewhat primitive in that electricity comes from solar panels that charge four batteries during the day. So, after everyone goes to bed, we turn off the electricity till the next morning.”
He introduced himself as Jim Elfers and explained that he had played tight end for the Stanford Football Team. But, he hurt his knee and played as a backup. He gave the appearance of being somewhat impressed when I mentioned that our son, Brian, biked on the Stanford team. Jim explained that he also biked, but was unwilling to go on those daily 100 miles rides to get in shape for racing.
When I asked if there was an Internet Café in the area, Jim smiled and explained that he owned one in the little town of El Pescadora. His Mexican wife, Bibi, ran the café which also served pizza. Just tell her that you are staying here and you will get a ½ hour of Internet time for free. So, later that evening, Pat and I ventured into town and made a visit to Jim’s café. The name above the door was: “Roadkill Café.” Bibi said that she did not yet have any dough prepared for pizza and that it would take about an hour to prepare. Her son, Brian, was nagging her for something that Bibi explained she did not have enough money to buy. An hour later, we got our pizza and our ½ hour on the Internet and, being the only customers in the café, enjoyed the company of Bibi and Brian.
When we mentioned that we were interested in birding the area, Jim told us about the Xanthus hummingbird – found only in Baja California. “They seldom come below the 1000-foot level and may be found in the foothills nearby. I would be happy to take you to see them, but we are leaving tomorrow. However, I can point out the road if you are willing to follow us as we leave town. There is only one dirt road that crosses the mountains here and the Xanthus may be seen feeding on yellow flowers along this road. So, the next morning we followed them a few miles north till Jim stuck his arm out the window and motioned for us to turn. The dirt road was somewhat washboard and corrugated, but otherwise in good shape. A few cows, goats and burros met us along the road, but we saw few humans except for an occasional passing pickup. After a few miles, we descended into a valley, forded a shallow stream and started up a valley where the road crossed back and forth across the stream. Whenever we saw birds or flowers, we stopped to observe. Many of the birds were the same as those found in Californian deserts. At one stream crossing, the water was murky. I wondered if there might be a muddy bottom and maybe should maintain my velocity so as not to get stuck. But on a hunch, I slowed instead. Halfway across there was a crunching sound and the car came to a sudden stop when something underneath struck a hidden rock. I backed out, inspected underneath, decided there was no serious damage, found a new route around the rock and continued up and up the mountain valley. At one stop, Pat said, “I hear a hummingbird chattering.” We searched the blooms and shrubbery nearby but saw nothing. Then, there it was. The characteristic white and black stripes on the face and the reddish tail identified it as the Xanthus hummingbird. We were delighted! Add another rare bird to our list.
We continued the drive which grew steeper and steeper up the narrow dirt road with deadly drop-offs into the valley below. The road ultimately led into a mountain pass and down the other side of the mountain range.
On the way back, we looked for the Xanthus in many locations, but were totally “skunked.”
The next day we drove to La Paz, where we planned to stay at the La Perla Hotel where we had stayed on the way south. It is a relatively inexpensive, but well-run hotel on the beach near the center of town where there are many restaurants, hotels and Internet Cafes. But on the way into town, we took a detour to explore a large, multistory hotel on the beach. When we arrived at the hotel, we could see that all that remained was an empty, vandalized shell of a hotel. But where we parked along the beach, we noticed a small hotel nearby with lots of palms and a bell-shaped swimming pool. I walked into the lobby and inquired about the availability of rooms and prices. A gray-haired gentleman at the bar told me that someone would meet me at the desk to give me the information I wanted. A young Mexican appeared and explained all the pricing for the rooms and casitas, which ranged from $75 to $110 per day. “Unfortunately, none are available,” he said. “An Elderhostel group is arriving this afternoon and will take up all the rooms.” As I prepared to leave, the gray-haired gentleman from the bar offered that a room had become available because one gentleman from the Elderhostel bunch was stranded in New York because of a heavy snowstorm. We could have his room. It was a casita that normally rented for $110 per night but we could have it for $75.
“May I see the room?” I asked – as we normally do at every hotel.
“Sure,” he replied, “but let me tell you something of the history of the room. Back in the 1940's, this was a hide-a-way for the Duke, John Wayne. But the Casita del Sol you will be staying in was the favorite of Bing Crosby. The casita was relatively plain on the outside, but the inside showed evidence of its one-time elegance. The doors and headboards on the bed were all hand carved wood. The bath was large, the bedroom very adequate, the living area nicely furnished and with a fireplace. The patio contained a palm and bougainvillea. It also had a huge bath with colorful painted tiles.
We were happy to accept the generous offer! Later when reading up on the hotel, we found out that it is currently owned by Engelbert Humperdink and is called the “Posada Engelbert.” Although it is showing some signs of age, it was great fun sleeping in a bed where Bing Crosby once slept. However, the next morning I was disappointed to find that I could not croon “White Christmas” any better than before.
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