Looking Out My Back Door: Blowing in the wind

This morning a rainbow arched over Bird Island and plunged into the rocks at the southern edge, the most intense rainbow I’ve seen in years. I sat at the window wall in our 21st floor suite at the resort and watched for half an hour; just watched the rainbow. Eventually, the rainbow extended a perfect reflection onto the Pacific mirror, creating a three-quarter circle.

Sandra, the current hurricane of our prolific Pacific series, huffed and puffed off the coast earlier this week. We in Mazatlan yawned with complacency. Every other storm, in this summer of hurricanes, landed either north or south or fizzled out mid-Pacific. The long arm of Baja protects this part of the Mexican coast, though we are a wee bit vulnerable perched across from the very tip of Baja.

Sandra romped up through the numbers to a Category 4 hurricane and back down again to a blow-hard tropical storm when she hit the mainland, dead center at Mazatlan. She wasn’t supposed to do that, fickle woman.

Kathy and I stockpiled water and kept our passports handy in case of an evacuation order but we were never in danger. A little wind, a fair rain, and Sandra fizzled into the hills. The worst effect for us two vacationing women is no beach. This is day five of no beach and the first day the resort has taken down the barriers denying guests beach access.

The waters are dangerous with undertows and extremely strong backwash. A handful of invincible young people, fueled with joy juice, venture into the foam, only to be whistled back to land by the life guards.

Yesterday, a school of large fish were feeding a few hundred yards off the beach. Today, hundreds of manta rays roil the water in a feeding frenzy, right up to the edge of the surf. We watch from above. Manta rays are huge, from five and a half to seven meters across. It is a rare treat to see one. This feast for our eyes is a direct result of the hurricane bringing deep water species into shore.

My first vacation in Mazatlan, Elias, a parasail vendor on the beach, dubbed me “Mexican Sandra,” given the Spanish pronunciation of my name, English in origin, spelled Sondra. He said Sandra is a Spanish name. I’m not sure how that relates to a hurricane but I felt like we shared a name and the characteristics of being quick to action but easily gentled.

Even at high tide the water separating the mainland and Bird Island is shallow. From above this morning the sea is tropical turquoise and the rocks I know to be there leave dark patches of shadow. In very low tides, the rocks are above water. We haven’t seen these rocks in three or four years. Low tides have ventured on holiday elsewhere, maybe somewhere in India.

Though sitting on the beach under the palapa is not an option, there is plenty to keep us entertained. This morning, along with sight-seeing the rainbow and manta rays, we watched runners in the Gran Maraton Pacifico, an annual event since 1999. The Mazatlan race is now rated among the top 10 in the world and is limited to 12,000 contenders. It is joy to watch both athletes and ordinary runners, even people like you and me. The participants rolling wheel chairs, others on crutches, the blind runners lead by companions, all bring tears to my eyes. We clap and shout encouragement to all from our vantage point on an overhead walkway.

Tonight we returned from a jaunt to Cerritos Point where we selected a corvina fresh from the ocean. In half an hour our fish is plunked between us, tail hanging over the platter, on a bed of lettuce, surrounded by tomatoes, cucumber slices, limes and salsa, served with a pile of tortillas. It doesn’t get any better than this. We watched the sunset and returned home full, tired and covered with grit of sand and salt.

(Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Mazatlan, Sinaloa, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com. Email [email protected].)