La Bufadora

Yesterday the local cruisers held a swap meet at the marina. By 9:30 there were multiple piles of “perfectly good” marine gear.  As the season ramps up and half the dock prepares to head south everyone tries to jettison extra gear so there was all sorts of miscellaneous stuff. We bought two inflatable kayaks and traded some of our old rigging for a couple of bottles of wine.   And so today, we decided to take those new kayaks to the estuary south of town and paddle around in the grassy backwaters.   

The Bufadora!

We headed south on the main highway and found the road out to the famous Bufadora ( blow hole).  Approaching via a winding road that went up and over a rock crest, we eventually popped out on a cliff top.  And then we saw our destination, or what we thought might be our destination, clearly labeled with spray paint on a rock. “Bufadora parking $ 1.00  Pull in.”   Was this the real Bufadora or a little camp ground Bufadora?  While Connie and Scott wanted to pull in, Keith, with a cooler head, persuaded us to press on, feeling that this little junky place could not be the famous blow hole of Ensenada.  And he was right because around the corner the view opened up with a beautiful rocky bay with a little town with dozens of dirt parking lots and a road pressed in on either side with little shops selling tourist trinkets. 

The Gauntlet of Vendors leading to the Bufadora

We drove by the Bufadora restaurant, the Bufadora gem shop, the Bufadora pharmacy (no prescription needed) and into the main tourist drag which was hard pressed on either side with little shops and hawkers lounging about. It is like a tourist funnel where you were supposed to pay to park then walk the gauntlet through 300 meters of vendors. As shown in the picture here, you have to walk from the left of all the way to the right.  Being Tuesday, a slow tourist day with no cruise ships in town, we continued to drive through the gauntlet until we could not drive any farther.  Then the vendors motioned that we had to stop and they let us park right there in town without charge.  We disembarked the automobile whereupon we were set upon by the few vendors who could muster the energy to attempt to sell us something.  

Connie was looking at some ear rings just to be polite, well knowing that she’d not purchase anything.  The tienda operator saw her handling a pair of silver and amber ear rings and told her his special price was 45 dollars.  Connie begged off,  “No, but thank you, they are beautiful, I really don’t have enough money to buy these.  He then offered them for $35.  Connie said “These are really nice but really, I cannot buy these.  Then he lowered the price to $25, then later to $20 and $15 and finally to $10.  Connie walked off saying politely that she had to ask her husband.  Well, it turned out that Keith wanted to buy some ear rings for his wife Lisa so when Connie told him the story of the silver and amber set they decided to go back and buy the $45 dollar jewelry for $10 bucks.  The vendor then upped his price to $15 but Connie held him to his bargain. 

 

After buying a Pina colada drink in an actual pineapple, the three of us walked around the corner to the blow hole and saw the object of our desire, the Bufadora.  When a swell came in, it filled the chasm and squirted out the top with a huge gush of saltwater spray going as far as 50 feet into the air.  Quite exciting! 

 

Exiting the area we drove back down the rocky peninsula and found the turn off to the estuary.  Soon off the dusty road we found an access point where we could get to the water.  A huge flock of birds were in the distance. So many birds!  Egrets of various sizes, curlews, pelicans, sand pipers, terns, and osprey.  We launched the kayaks just off the road where an old man was herding cattle through the sparse grass .  Once launched,  we headed toward the reeds and found small channels to try out. But the tide was running out and we were at risk of running aground so we headed back into deeper water.  The reed banks were thick with mud clams and snails.  The current with the wind behind it pulled us north away from the car.  We were at an extreme tide as it was a new moon the night before.  Eventually we decided to paddle back.  Returning to the launch site, the mud banks were extensive. When we stepped onto land our feet sunk deeply into the mud.  Keith lost a flip flop and Scott went in knee deep.  Connie just danced across the mud being fleet of foot and light of weight.  

The cows were very interested in us so they came to help us pack up the boats and the herder tried to herd them away but they insisted on walking through our gear.  Covered in mud, bare foot, we eventually got the kayaks cleaned up , deflated, and into the car.  Après paddle, we toured the sand spit in the car, wandering into a community dividing the estuary and the ocean.  On one side was a beautiful beach facing the ocean, on the other the mud flats and reed fields.  The community was one of those ivory tower developments where gringos buy time shares and most of the year the property lies vacant.  Unfortunately most of the area recently went bust and now lie vacant.  So now very few people are able to enjoy the area.  What a waste.  There was an huge complex sitting gated in ruin.  Rusty gates kept us away from the beautiful long beach but we were able to get a little access at the end of the spit and enjoyed walking the sand dunes and seeing the ice plant succulents and trying to catch the ant lions who lie in wait at the bottom of their cone shaped depressions in the sand. 

Cold beers at the local La Tienda and we were off for home… stopping only at the organic chicken ranch were we found live chickens but nobody to sell them to us.  That’s just as well. We imagined what it would be like to buy one and have its head chopped off and Connie refusing a plastic bag (as she always does) and us having to hold the chicken carcass out the window all the way home. Then we’d be plucking the bird off the back of the boat with the feathers blowing downwind over the neighbor’s boat. 

A good productive day off it was.