Sometimes, you just get lucky.
We chose to anchor at Punta San Telmo more or less on a whim. Bypassing the famously scenic Los Gatos was not a difficult choice once we learned that half a dozen or more boats would be there, but we did wonder whether we would feel that we missed out on something special. Turns out, the hills around Punta San Telmo and the next secluded anchorage, Bahia San Marte, are some of the most wild and wildly beautiful land we have experienced on the trip.

What creature lies entombed in this fiery sarcophagus?

One of our favorite early morning sounds (on days when we are staying put in an anchorage) is the grind of another boat’s anchor chain being urged from the sandy bottom. On a morning such as when we awoke at Punta San Telmo, the muted clanking meant that we would have the entire place to ourselves for at least the morning. We gathered our gear and rowed ashore to the sandy, expansive beach north of the point.

Fiddler Crabs leave ghostly nighttime trails.

We quickly left the sand behind and set off across the isthmus, looking for the red rock formations we had glimpsed on the way in the previous evening. Inching up to the edge of the bluff, we saw them: great ghoulish goblins of eroded pink and red sandstone, guarded by giant cardon cacti. We scrambled along cliffs sloughing into the sea and made our way to a broad plateau that rolled along between the ocean and the foothills of the Sierra de la Giganta. Following the occasional cattle trail, but mostly just picking our way around arroyos and the prickly vegetation, we made our way a couple of miles south to where we had a view into a corner of Los Gatos.

Turning northward, the views of the coast were epic. We caught our breath as pelicans rode thermals past our vantage point, disappearing from view with only a flap or two of their wings. In the distance, Pelican Moon was the only sign of human life for as far as we could see.

Can you find Pelican Moon? She is a speck where the land meets the sea in the center of the picture.

On the way back we chose a different route in order to avoid some of the arroyos we had crossed, and were surprised to suddenly find ourselves faced with 20 foot sand dunes densely populated with lomboy trees, jojobo shrubs, leatherplant, chollas, pitayaha and cardon cactus. Jackrabbit, lizard and snake tracks led the way, and we saw no human footprints. The vegetation grew dense, and taller, and the calls of doves and flycatchers and juncos made us feel that we had ended up someplace quite different than where we started. When we finally arrived at the top of the dunes, we were right where we left the dingy, and Pelican Moon rose out of the sand to greet us – a welcome sight!

The swells were still making our home heave and buck, so we opted to haul anchor and scoot another 7 miles north to Bahia San Marte, another anchorage not often visited by cruising sailors. The sea was glassy and undulated to swells left over from wind, blown the night before. As we motored through the early evening, we kept overtaking pairs of dorsal fins poking through the reflected sky. We couldn’t figure it out. The fins seemed to move independently of one another, yet they always traveled in pairs, and always submerged at the same instant the moment our boat got too close. Suddenly, we were able to make out some color in the dim light, and realized that one side of each fin was black, the other white. And it hit us – these were manta rays, barely moving, their great wingtips just piercing the surface. We must have passed 50 of them, yet the only indication was the tips of their wings, and a swirling eddy as they dove for deeper water.

Can you find the ray wingtips?

Gliding into Bahia San Marte, we knew we had made the right choice. The swells flattened out; the sun set dramatically behind giant pyramids of stone. All alone, once again. Even better, Wade caught a triggerfish almost as soon as he dropped his hook in the water!

Access to hiking was sparse, and the wind kept turning to a stiff breeze every time we wanted to paddle, so we needed to spend three days kayaking, swimming, fishing and beachcombing to get our fill of this anchorage before heading to Agua Verde, one of those famous spots that we just couldn’t resist, even if it meant sharing with a bunch of other boaters. We didn’t mind, and as it turned out, we met some very nice people there. Sometimes, you just get lucky.