The forty-six miles from Los Frailes to Los Muertos went pretty fast under power. It went even faster when whales started spouting, manta rays were leaping and sea turtles began paddling by the boat! By the time Wade had reeled in his second fish (one dorado, one black skipjack), we were practically there.

The water was alive as we slid past Cabo Pulmo national park, the northernmost coral reef in the world (I believe) and a place so full of life that the local fisherman and townspeople took on big business and convinced the government to protect the area for the future, rather than allow it to be sold for condos and jet-ski rides.

A different outcome awaited us at our next anchorage, where we arrived beneath a bloody Baja sunset, and woke to a dream-state sunrise. Ensenada de Los Mueurtos (Harbor of the Dead) was living up to its name.

First things first, so we killed another full day working on the head plumbing to no avail. We needed a plumber’s snake and other supplies from La Paz. On the second day we took a walk about the grounds, in part to answer the question “is this place dead, or dreaming?”

Sometime in the last 20 years a developer bought out most of the fisherman living on the beaches and started to build a huge resort, renaming the area “Harbor of Dreams” which of course sounds better than the real name to those who were hoping for a grand return on their investment.

Problem is, it appears that whoever started the development couldn’t finish it. They put in a big road (but never paved it). They built a golf course (but didn’t plant it or water it). They started a nursery for growing palm trees, but stopped watering it so the trees all died. They built several large luxury homes, which are not all filled. We read that it is busy in the summer, when the roosterfish are driving themselves onto the beaches in a blind frenzy of feeding, and the sport fisherman come from around the world to cast their lures into the melee and reel in a spectacular, but mostly inedible prize. But none of that was taking place during our visit.

Perhaps it was because we caught two fish on the way here and Pelican Moon’s decks smelled like death. Or maybe it was because of our unfortunate holding tank situation. Or maybe it was due to the acres of dead cardon cactus that lined every road built in the development. Whatever the reason, as we wandered through its dusty remains, the place seemed full of dread, longing, loneliness. Why is it that, around the world, developers are allowed to raze a beautiful place when they don’t have enough funding to finish the vision they have promised?

Away from the immediate area of development in Los Muertos, the desert still lives, and the highlight of the day for us was the unexpected discovery of a coral-strewn littoral zone, with adjacent live coral heads in the deeper pools. Lots of neat discoveries in and around the tidepools took our minds off the sad scene around us for a time.

Eventually, however, we could no longer avoid the pressing problem onboard our own floating world, so after a very pleasant meal at the palapa restaurant onshore (which predated the resort development), we prepared the boat for departure and fell into our bunk, dead tired and dreaming of clear pipes and working valves.