Diving La Paz
The flight was no problem, two hours south from San Diego, but the three-hour drive north to La Paz was another matter. I was full of anticipation for the next four days spent diving in the warm waters of the Sea of Cortez but that wore thinner the longer our van rumbled along. We arrived at the outskirts of the city after dark. My travel and dive buddy speaks Spanish, so stopping at the local big box store to gather some supplies was a simple request.
Wandering a Mexican emporium is not fun for the weary but I was drawn in by the labels. There were shelves full of sodas and juice that simply don’t translate. Even at 9 p.m. the place was packed and families seemed in no rush to get home. I was ready to call it a day and soon back in the van, we wended our way out of town and past the docks. A few industrial lights bounced on the water under an inky sky. Down a narrow road we pulled into a driveway and entered the world of Club Cantamar.
The dive resort was modest, perhaps too much so, as our room had blasting air conditioning but no windows opened. The faucet spit when you rinsed your toothbrush, but the beds were most welcome.
All the travel discomfort and fatigue was soon forgotten as we met our dive mates at breakfast the next morning. Scott Geitler, founder of the Underwater Guide.com, set the trip up to help us polish our underwater photography skills. He’d drawn together a small group of experienced scuba pros. I was the least experienced in the bunch and had never been on a trip like this before.
The schedule was grueling. We were going to be diving at least three times each day and if lucky, would snorkel with Whale Sharks before returning home. The adolescents were often spied feeding in the shallows of the adjacent bay. That was the biggest draw for me. After diving in more tropical waters, I hadn't had high expectations for sea life in the inner Baja Sea. I was so wrong.
Each morning we’d meet for an early, modest breakfast and then trot down to the dive lockers to retrieve our gear and make sure all we needed was on the boat before leaving the dock. Once underway, if you’d forgotten any key piece of your scuba outfit or camera batteries, you were out of luck and would spend the rest of the morning bobbing in the boat instead of out of it.
Once we motored out of the bay, the dry shores and hills sped past. There’s a stark beauty to the place and few signs of life, especially humans. Each morning we dropped anchor at a different spot. Much depended on currents, visibility and the goal for each location. I learned quickly that the professional photographers and wannabes on the trip had shot itineraries. They’d prepared lists of critters, wrecks and large pelagics to capture. I kept up with the crew as best as I could, feeling more like a camera Sherpa than a photographer in my own right.
Slipping into the water was simple enough. It was surprisingly warm for an early spring, but that made air last longer and wearing thinner suits is always more comfortable. Each site had its own charms – the sea lions and diving cormorants at Los Olletes, giant bait balls that ran past us like silver freeways, chasing octopus, the wreck at Swanee Reef, drifting away powerless in a surprisingly strong current and being rescued by a neighboring boat, spying sleeping Hammerhead Sharks over 100 feet below the surface and a turtle who became enamored with his reflection in a fish eye lens.
One day I chose to stay behind, catch up on work and rest. Outside the compound was a low hill with a closed restaurant and several Panga boats tied up on the shore. The modest skiffs are the life blood for many of the locals. They slip out to sea in small crews to use hand lines and small nets. It’s a sustainable fishing practice that’s been going on locally for centuries.
That evening we chose to try a night dive around the docks. Underwater after dark is an odd affair. There are all manners of creatures feeding on refuse, some of the oddest creatures imaginable like tube feeders whose short tentacles sift sand for nutrients. Crawling urchins, shy lobster, small sting rays and star fish floated out of the darkness and into our hand-held light. It wasn't a pristine swim but those creatures were doing their best to keep the place tidy.
I left the water feeling intrepid and excited to share stories and pictures as Scott and his band of delighted divers gathered for beer and dinner. It was a full and exhausting week, but I’d happily return.
Photos courtesy of the author.