13 SEPTEMBER
SEA OF CORTEZ
Midday and the sun is a killer. The road dives down from the plateau to the Sea of Cortez. We pose for silly pics above water the blue of dark turqoise. The sky is a pure blue marginally paler than the sea. Islands of stripped rock and quartz glint pale in the fierce light. The road climbs above the coast. A fish rises, rings spreading across still water. An enclave of foreigners' houses and a hotel stand at the head of a bay. The golf course is obligatory, grass green as our lawn back home. From where comes the fresh water and at what cost?
Showing posts with label Baja California. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Baja California. Show all posts
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
GODBYE TO WISDOM
SEPTEMBER 12
BAJA CALIFORNIA
I've been lying in bed the past hour wondering what time it is. My watch died yesterday after taking a fall off a table to a stone floor and I haven't changed the time on my mobile nor on this notebook. Where am I? The Desert Inn, Catavina, Baja California.
I am aware that I haven't blogged since March. Bernadette has been pushing at me over the intervening months. “Write, Simon, that's what you do. Readers expect it.”
So here is an apology to those readers – and an explanation. The Sela Pass in Arunachal Pradesh did for me. The road was suitable for a young, sure-footed mule. It was unsuitable for a septaugenarian with a fear of heights. I reached the top of the pass and I was old. Really old. Five days of rain in Tawang without electricity was time in which to face facts, time to call a halt to exploring continents by bike. Get home, invest in a ride-on lawn mower; should I crave adventure, drive eight miles over the Malvern Hills of an evening; paddle in the warm waters of the outdoor pool at the Malvern Spa; for a change of climate sample the spa sauna or the steam room. In short, act my age.
So what happened to such sensible intentions?
First came The Big Chill music festival.
BAJA CALIFORNIA
I've been lying in bed the past hour wondering what time it is. My watch died yesterday after taking a fall off a table to a stone floor and I haven't changed the time on my mobile nor on this notebook. Where am I? The Desert Inn, Catavina, Baja California.
I am aware that I haven't blogged since March. Bernadette has been pushing at me over the intervening months. “Write, Simon, that's what you do. Readers expect it.”
So here is an apology to those readers – and an explanation. The Sela Pass in Arunachal Pradesh did for me. The road was suitable for a young, sure-footed mule. It was unsuitable for a septaugenarian with a fear of heights. I reached the top of the pass and I was old. Really old. Five days of rain in Tawang without electricity was time in which to face facts, time to call a halt to exploring continents by bike. Get home, invest in a ride-on lawn mower; should I crave adventure, drive eight miles over the Malvern Hills of an evening; paddle in the warm waters of the outdoor pool at the Malvern Spa; for a change of climate sample the spa sauna or the steam room. In short, act my age.
So what happened to such sensible intentions?
First came The Big Chill music festival.
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