Sometimes there is simply not a whole lot to say. Travelling from one beautiful anchorage to another is cool, but, in the end, not terribly interesting. I enjoy learning and history is one of my favorite subjects. So, whenever we have a chance to discover a place steeped in history, culture or tradition, it is a definite plus.
I am also a huge fan of the physical sciences. In that regard, many of these stunning anchorages have something to offer. Like Puerto Los Gatos, for example. You will see below the stunning red rock formations. Also, the salt mines we have encountered are intriguing.
But what has been really fun is the wild life. The birds, in particular, are interesting to see and to photograph. From pelican to frigate birds, laughing gulls and vultures. We have encountered goats, donkey, bovine species, and snakes. It's been quite intriguing.
One of the more interesting things we have seen are the jumping mobilus rays. This large "fish" jump out of the water, sometimes three or four times consecutively. If you happen to be looking in the right direction at the right time, you see what may variably be described as a flying car hood flipping through the air before slapping back into the water. If you don't happen to see it, you hear it.
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| This is not my photograph but a stock image I foiund online. |
Why do mobilus rays jump out of the water? Mobula rays jump out of the water primarily for biological and social reasons, rather than for feeding. The leading scientific explanation is parasite removal: breaching and slapping back onto the surface creates a strong impact that can dislodge external parasites from their skin. In addition, the jumps likely serve a communication or signaling function, producing sounds and visual cues that help coordinate groups during feeding or movement, especially when large schools are present. Other factors—such as muscle conditioning, orientation, or simple behavioral expression—may also play secondary roles. While researchers continue to study the behavior, parasite control combined with social signaling is currently the most widely supported explanation.
LaPaz to Puerto Escondido (Loreto)
1. Isla Espíritu Santo and Isla Partida
I wrote of these islands previously, but include them here as they are in the chain of islands one visits travelling between La Paz and Loreto.
2. Isla San Francisco
Isla San Francisco is a small, uninhabited island in the Sea of Cortez, off the eastern coast of Baja California Sur, Mexico. It’s known for its striking natural beauty, dramatic desert-meets-sea landscapes, and excellent opportunities for nature-based experiences.
The island is roughly 2.5 km by 2.5 km in size, spanning about 3.78 km². The terrain is typical of the region’s scenic desert islands — rugged and rocky, with salt flats centrally and a stunning crescent-shaped bay that’s one of its most iconic features.
Isla San Francisco does have natural salt pans — shallow depressions near its beaches where salt forms after seawater evaporates. These have been excavated and used by local fishermen over many decades to collect sea salt. The salt is traditionally used for preserving fish in the region, especially where refrigeration was not available historically.
Unlike nearby Isla del Carmen, where there was a large commercial salt industry (complete with infrastructure like rail lines and export docks) that operated from the late 1700s through the 1970s/1980s, producing tens of thousands of tons of pure salt before the operations ceased when the island became protected, leaving ruins of that salt works behind, there is no well-documented large-scale salt mining operation on Isla San Francisco itself.
On Isla San Francisco itself, the “salt mining” that visitors and locals see today is generally small-scale harvesting from natural salt pans — areas where seawater is left to evaporate, leaving salt that can be gathered by hand or simple tools. This is mostly informal and for local use rather than industrial production.
3. San Evaristo
San Evaristo is a tiny coastal fishing community on the eastern side of the Baja California Sur peninsula, facing the islands of Isla San José and near Isla San Francisco in the Sea of Cortez.
San Evaristo’s story isn’t about conquest or dramatic shipwreck like some sea legends — it’s about maritime livelihood and coastal living.
For generations, the people of San Evaristo have been fishers and gatherers of the sea’s bounty. The bay’s protected waters make it a good anchorage and a dependable spot for pangas to launch and return with catches that are either used locally or brought further south to markets in La Paz.
The community supports a small tienda and often a single restaurant that serves freshly caught fish and local fare.
There’s no regular electricity grid or widespread internet, making everyday life there very rooted in traditional rhythms and self-sufficiency.
Nearby San Evaristo are salt pans and salt works — areas where sea salt has traditionally been harvested — much more visible and somewhat industrial than the tiny natural pans found on nearby islands like Isla San Francisco. These aren’t huge industrial salt mines, but local salt production has been part of the area’s maritime economic story as fishermen and coastal communities often harvested salt for use and trade.
4. Puerto Los Gatos
We spent a rather uncomfortable week in very rolly conditions weathering a winter northerly blow. While we were protected from the direct effects of the north wind, the significant swell it created tended to wrap into the anchorage making it pretty uncomfortable. We actually deployed our rocker stopper for the second time in several months. Other than its natural beauty, there is not much to say about the place.
Puerto Los Gatos is a small, remote anchorage on the eastern coast of Baja California Sur, north of San Evaristo and south of Agua Verde, facing the Gulf. It’s not a town or village—there are no services, no permanent settlement, just a natural harbor tucked into a rugged desert coastline.
The red rock formations at Puerto Los Gatos are a good reason to stop here. The shoreline and small cliffs around Puerto Los Gatos are composed largely of red sandstone, sometimes mixed with yellow, gray, and even green-tinged layers. These colors are especially dramaticat sunrise or sunset. Over long periods, wind and waves have worn the sandstone into fascinating shapes—smooth curves, nooks, little arches and rugged edges—giving the area an “otherworldly” look.
While anchored there, a guy named Rudolpho would come by and visit in his panga. He is a local fisherman who sells scallops and lobster. He comes by the boat, takes your order, and then goes to a nearby reef (you can see where he goes), pulls on his wetsuit, which he wore backwards with the zipper in the front, mask, fins and snorkel, and flops over the side. We ordered three large scallops. He was back with three large scallops in about 45 minutes. I paid him in the denomination I had and since he couldn't make change, he offered me a lobster to cover the difference. I imagine Rudolpho does pretty well. He solicits every boat that comes into the anchorage, especially the charter boats. And since there is no place to spend his money, he probably has a comfortable next egg.
5. Agua Verde
Agua Verde, “green water” is a tiny, isolated settlement tucked into a steep bowl of desert mountains on the west side of the Sea of Cortez. Long before yachts and GPS tracks, it existed because of one rare thing in Baja: reliable fresh water.
For centuries, Agua Verde was a natural refuge. Indigenous peoples and later ranching families used the bay as a seasonal stop. The freshwater spring that trickles down from the canyon made it livable where most of Baja is not. The land supported goats, small gardens, and fishing—nothing grand, just survival. The village never grew large because it couldn’t. The terrain is unforgiving, roads were nonexistent, and the sea was the only practical highway. As pearl divers, fishermen, and traders began working the Sea of Cortez in the 18th and 19th centuries, Agua Verde became a quiet resupply cove. Not a port—just a place to anchor, fill water, and move on.
It was a very pleasant place to stop, especially after enduring the rolly conditions for the previous week. We hiked and dinghied around. We saw goats and a large flock of vultures feasting on a couple of unfortunate mobilus rays on a beach on the other side of the bay.
There is a rumor some like to spread that Agua Verde is the creation of the Mexican drug cartels:
"Agua Verde is quietly controlled or “protected” by a cartel; boats are allowed there only because locals keep an eye on who comes and goes, and the bay has been used in the past for smuggling—fuel, drugs, or supplies—because it’s isolated, has a road, and a protected anchorage."
Where does that rumor comes from? It didn’t appear out of nowhere. It’s a mash-up of four real but separate facts that get blended incorrectly:
1. Baja’s smuggling history (regional, not local):The Sea of Cortez has historically been used as a transit zone, especially decades ago. That reality gets lazily pasted onto quiet places like Agua Verde.
2. The road + fresh water combo. Agua Verde has two rare things: A road and reliable fresh water. People assume that means “logistics value,” therefore “cartel interest.”
3. Local reserve ≠ secrecy. The village is polite but not chatty. For outsiders unfamiliar with Baja culture, that gets misread as “watching you.”
4. Cruiser amplification. One vague comment becomes lore after being retold five times with added confidence, zero evidence, and a lot of booze.
The reality check. If the rumor were true, you’d see: Restrictions on landing; Curiosity about boats and crews; Sensitivity to photos or drones; and/or Patterns of exclusion. Instead, what you actually see is: Decades of uninterrupted cruiser visits; Open hiking; Locals selling food casually; Zero enforcement behavior. As such, many dismiss the rumor outright.The rumor survives because isolation invites imagination.
6. Puerto Escondido and Loreto
After several weeks, we decided it was time again to take Tazzy into a marina to refresh and reprovision, do laundry, and clean up the boat. Puerto Escondido is an ideal place as it is only a short distance by rental car to the historic town of Loreto.
Puerto Escondido is one of the great natural harbors of the Sea of Cortez—a deep, narrow inlet carved into the coast just south of Loreto. From offshore it looks modest, but once inside it opens into a nearly landlocked basin with steep hills on all sides, making it famous for being almost hurricane-proof.
There’s now a full-service marina tucked into the harbor, fuel dock, and basic shoreside amenities. Check out the website for Marina Puerto Escondido. The folks are fantastic, friendly, and always helpful.
Premium Service. Natural Protection. Remote Adventure
Loreto
Founded in 1697, Loreto was the site of Misión de Nuestra Señora de Loreto, the first permanent Spanish settlement in the Californias, making it the birthplace of Spanish colonial expansion in Baja and Alta California.
From this mission, a chain of missions spread north, shaping the cultural, religious, and political history of what would become Baja California and California in the United States.
Today, Loreto remains deliberately low-key—no high-rise resorts, a walkable malecón, and a strong local identity—serving as both a gateway to the islands of the Loreto Bay National Marine Park and a living reminder of the region’s deep historical roots.
One of the dumbest things we have experienced was the requirement that, having arrived in Puerto Escondido, we were "required" to check in with the Port Captain in Loreto. We did it, and it was fine. There was no charge, and all we had to do was fill out a form and watch it get rubber stamped. I mean, really? We were checked into the country back in November. So why, other than to flex its bureaucratic muscle would an additional check in be required?
Here's the reason: When we checked into Mexico originally, we cleared immigration (INM) and customs (Aduana) for people and goods. But when we arrived in Puerto Escondido, we entered the jurisdiction of a new harbor authority under the Capitanía de Puerto in Loreto. Mexican maritime law requires vessels—especially foreign-flagged ones—to report arrivals, movements, and intended stays at each port of call, regardless of immigration status. I suppose we were required to check in with the Port Captain in Cabo and in La Paz as well. OOOOOps.
Why we got flagged in Loreto but not La Paz or Cabo? Because Puerto Escondido reports through Loreto’s Port Captain. Loreto operates more by the book. Our presence was visible and stationary, and someone (often the marina) likely triggered the check.
The bottom line:
Yes, technically we were supposed to report in La Paz and Cabo. No, we didn’t violate some unusual rule. Yes, Puerto Escondido/Loreto is stricter than average. And no, this doesn’t mean we’re suddenly “out of compliance” everywhere else.
WEATHER FORECASTING IN MEXICO
