This wind forces me to travel down the hallways of time. I remember at around 8 years of age living in a house of glass in Brasil that clung onto a cliff edge like a sea star on a rocky shore. A massive storm was taking place and the wind pierced through all the joints and gaps in the windows, announcing its presence with a loud-pitched howl. There was no refuge in this house and even as I covered my shut eyes with my hands, I could still see the flashes of light as the night sky was continually parted by a seemingly endless stream of lightning bolts. I hid behind my father’s desk and prayed and hoped and prayed that someday this storm would end and I would once again feel peace and safety.
Winter is approaching us here in Baja. It’s greedy reach unsatisfied to just leave Baja alone and let us stay in the exquisite joy of perpetual sunshine and warmth.
The wind we are being engulfed by today is at least a southerly wind. Warmth and faint traces of the tropics ride in its wake. Soon they say the winds will shift and we will be in for a cycle of four days on, three days off, of the wicked witch of the north wind. With the shift will come cooler air and water, and of course wind.
In our pop-up tent trailer, even a pathetic breeze will send it rocking and rolling. We’ll feel the entire trailer heaving and jerking as the wind hits us. At those times it feels more like we have taken up residence in a large sail. In a strong wind, it actually becomes frightening. I wonder how much wind this trailer can withstand before it launches into the heavens.
I did my research before coming down here. I imagined all the worst case scenarios and approached this trip from every angle. But nowhere did I come across information on the winter winds here. Perhaps it’s such a common fact that others don’t even bother writing about it. Perhaps that is why we haven’t seen anyone else in a pop-up tent trailer and have only ever seen hard-sided rigs.
The other looming fear I have about spending the winter in Baja is the rapidly declining water temperature. I have always had my suspicion, which has been confirmed on this trip, that I am a creature of the sea. My heart’s desire is to be in the water. Not by the water, close to the water, or in water’s view, but actually in the water. What will happen as the water temperature drops to the mid 60s? What will we do with our time when most of it can’t be spent playing like sea animals. My interest is not in the land.
Suddenly it feels as though the magic carpet we were on has been yanked out from beneath us. The prospect of staying here, perhaps needing to rent a house or some more permanent structure than our tent is beyond unappealing. For me, the magic lies in the ocean and being bathed in it the majority of my days.
Believe me, I can hear myself; completely absorbed by this self-induced drama. Around the world there are people in dire circumstances. I recoil at this temper tantrum I am having; this act of raising my fists to the sky and cursing the cycles of nature.
I suppose it’s just a change. I’ll need to re-adjust and adapt to the climate and learn to make peace with the weather and temperature, regardless. I will challenge myself to not be so rigid and limited in my high standards and requirements for happiness.
Man this journey is good for me…