Dave Gibson, Mexico. One hundred twenty-five miles south of the U.S. border on the Baja Peninsula sandwiched between the Sierra San Pedro Martir Mountains and the Sea of Cortez on a narrow strip of sand lies San Felipe, Mexico. The town’s seventeen thousand residents are predominantly Mexican with a minority of retired expatriates. The population swells by five thousand when Canadian and American snowbirds arrive in the wintertime. Their relationship is symbiotic, providing much-needed income for locals and locals providing the goods and services they need. Refreshingly, I sensed no animosity toward gringos during my stay and the relaxed lifestyle made it easy to unwind.

San Felipe is probably best known for being the terminus of the San Felipe 250 off-road race but off the well-worn travelers’ track. On most days you are likely to see more stray dogs than tourists. Prominent are the lighthouse and Shrine of Guadalupe that sits perched on a jutting cliff to the north. The main attraction in town is the Malecon, a six-block boardwalk lined with shops and restaurants overlooking the ocean.

In 2015 a moratorium was placed on gillnetting in the northern Sea of Cortez officially in response to depleted commercial shrimp and fish stocks. The critically endangered vaquita (the world’s smallest porpoise), whose numbers are reported to have dwindled to eight individuals (and most likely very soon extinct) and pressure from the international community to save them was the unofficial reason behind the ban. Despite an expansive marine preserve and no-fishing zone established in 1975 stretching from San Felipe to Puerto Peñasco to protect the porpoise in the northernmost shallower waters they prefer, enforcement of the law has been non-existent or ineffective. Some of the vaquitas have been killed by unattended illegal gillnets set for the also endangered totoaba (a large fish of the drum family whose swim bladders sell for twenty thousand dollars per kilo in the Chinese medicine black market). Higher salinity levels resulting from diminished Colorado River flows into the Sea of Cortez have also contributed to their decline. No one upstream is about to relinquish their rights to Colorado River water and with lack of real protections for the vaquitas, legitimate fishermen bore the brunt of the problem. San Felipe has forever been a fishing village and compensation from the government for not fishing didn’t fully meet their needs and regulations were breached. In April of 2017, environmentalist supporters of a U.S. call to boycott Mexican shrimp boarded fishing boats in the marina and a riot erupted. Three people were shot by government troops but survived. Eventually “shrimpers” and fishermen regained the right to use gillnets but must fish adjacent and south of town away from usual vaquita grounds. A Mexican Navy ship now stands guard in San Felipe Bay enforcing the boundary.

Recreational fishing has always been legal in San Felipe. On a windless morning we set out from the marina with calm seas on a panga operated by Meza’a Sport Fishing. Our target species would be corvina and croaker weighing 2 lbs. to 3 lbs. Croakers are so-named because of the drumming or croaking noise they make when removed from the water. We would catch twenty-five or so along with four eels which were the best fighters. I had been told that the Sea of Cortez near San Felipe had the lowest fecal counts of anywhere in the Baja. As to that I had my doubts when one of our guides took a dump in a five-gallon bucket and flushed it in the sea. A group of dolphins were spotted in the distance as we fished. Before we knew it, the pod of thirty bottlenose dolphins was upon us passing perhaps fifty feet from the boat!

Nearby Puertocitos Hot Springs via Mexico Highway 5 is an enjoyable ½-day excursion. The fifty-five-mile road that follows the coastline is good in most spots but contains detours around washed-out sections caused by Hurricane Rosa in the fall of 2018. Sixteen inches of rain fell in one day compared to the three inches they usually receive per year. Fingers of sand encroached upon the pavement from the previous week’s winds. Once at the springs, a fifteen-dollar fee is collected per vehicle. Scorching hot water flows down craggy rocks that abruptly end at the surf. At low tide the lowest pool mixes with seawater producing a soothing temperature. Immersed, tiny needlefish occasionally nipped at my skin. As the tide rises, the higher and hotter pools become usable. After a satisfying two-hour soak, we motored past sprawling dunes dotted with mesquite, ocotillo, and Mexican giant cardon cactus. Turkey vultures soared overhead. A few abandoned developments along the way speak of the boom times of the ‘90s and broken dreams from the recession that followed.

Back in San Felipe, you can rent an ATV and tackle the sand hills or cruise along the beach. A twenty-seven year veteran pilot offers ultralight rides for a different perspective of the city. The word is he has never crashed. With the ocean at your feet and mountains at your elbow, the views are stunning. On my fifteen-minute, fifty-dollar ride, I asked Rafael to swoop by the Shrine of Guadalupe for a closer look at the large mosaic of the Virgin of Guadalupe that is only visible from the air or sea.

Dining options range from corner burrito and taco stands to more upscale open-air restaurants on the Malecon. The enchiladas at Rositas are smothered in a locally-made white cheese and equal the best I’ve ever eaten. Street vendors selling their handcrafted wares stop by your table from time to time, but there isn’t a hard sales pitch and if you aren’t interested, the word “no” is the same in Spanish as in English. Accompanied by a smile and the standard “thank you” or “gracias,” they politely move on. The best seafood in town can be found at the Vaquita Seafood Restaurant. Fresh raw oysters had been trucked in from Ensenada on the Pacific side that day. An appetizer of six was served on a bed of sea salt to keep them chilled. The juices of the oysters with a splash of lime and Mayan hot sauce slid off the shell easily, to be followed by another half dozen. For my entrée I saw no reason to change my selection of two days before: Camerones Kiki – a generous platter of grilled jumbo shrimp with crab meat covered in a bacon, mushroom, and cream sauce. Not knowing when I would see 66-cent oysters again, I ordered six more for dessert.

To view past articles and pictures go to www.DaveGibsonImages.com. 

(Originally published in the November 21, 2019, print edition of The Mountain-Ear.)