| On Wednesday and Saturday mornings about 10:00
the buses begin their roaring descent from the crest of Punta Banda down
into the tiny town of La Bufadora. They disgorge crowd after crowd of tourists
who swarm the mall, buying Mexican folk art, curios and pseudo Oakley sunglasses
and Dooney & Bourke leather goods. They munch on tacos, churros and
mangos as they work their way out to the Blow Hole, one of Mexico's most
visited natural wonders. If they're lucky, once they get there, they get
drenched by one of its roaring blows.
La Bufadora. "Buffalo Snort." "The Blow Hole." The name comes from the verb bufar which means to snort, so the literal translation is, "The Snorter." With the mall's recent renovation and the addition of electricity, the place has finally entered the twentieth century. A little late, perhaps? Come on! La Boof, as the locals call it, is the last outpost on Baja's Gold Coast, which stretches from the border to Ensenada. Everywhere else is built up ... full of Americanized hotels charging Americanized prices. Here there are a few houses and trailers to rent that you can ferret out if you're equally curious and persistent, but we don't have a hotel yet, which is why most visitors come in, wander around and then head out. Most never get any further south than the outdoor deck of one of the four restaurants: Restaurant La Bufadora, Celia's, The El Dorado or Los Gordos. And there you are ... on a hot autumn day ... sitting on a patio sipping an icy Pacifico, your gaze drifting across Bahía Papalote. The water sparkles as sun rays dance upon its dappled surface. The sea is a crystalline shade of aquamarine, accented with cobalt blue. You see trails of bubbles rising up from divers exploring the depths below. A seal's head darts up through the kelp, and four dolphin leap in unison from the water, surprising a pair of kayakers as they paddle out to check out the Blow Hole from the ocean. Pelicans circle the cliffs in formation, plunging together into the water to scoop up lunch. The craggy terrain reminds you of Greece; the shoreline conjures up visions of Big Sur. You wonder about the colony of colorful houses dotting the hillside. There is a trailer below you in the middle of the dirt lot where the campers camp with a palapa covering a big patio. A road of sorts leads up to it, outlined in white rocks. It's the official guard house. A dust-covered four-by-four truck drives up, its driver leans out the open window to chat a moment with the guard, Umberto and wave greetings to his extended family and then continues up the road. Where is he headed, you wonder? Your eyes follow the cloud of dust until it disappears behind the top row of houses hanging over the edge of the bay and then reappears briefly, only to disappear again behind a knoll. You see a propane truck winding its way up the hill, honking its horn intermittently. Tony Sanchez' truck lumbers by, liquid sloshing from its rear as it too grinds its way up, bringing water to the houses on the hill. Unless you know someone who has a casa in Rancho La Bufadora ... which is owned by Señor José León Toscano and managed by his son, Negro ...or unless you're an outdoors man (or woman) who doesn't mind camping in the dirt, you probably won't experience this side of La Boof. You'll just soak up the beauty, finish your beer, snap a few pictures and be on your way. But ... if curiosity does get the better of you, and if you truly are a persistent sort ... you may be well on your way to getting, as we say in La Bufadora ... "boofed." That's what happened to me a few years ago. I was invited to stay in a rental house over Memorial Weekend. As I ate a $1.40 (US) breakfast on Gordo's patio, I watched the scene described above unfold before me. It was beautiful, peaceful, festive, lonely, comforting and magical. My heart stirred, my eyes misted up and in an inexplicable way, I felt I'd come home. Home to somewhere I'd never been before. Bingo! I was "boofed!" My kids and I stayed an extra day that trip. We came back again, again and again that summer. I couldn't stay away. Like a magnet, it kept drawing me back. La Bufadora was (and is) raw, remote and somehow set apart from the frenzied and chaotic motion of Southern California. Being there relaxed me, right down to the nitty, gritty nooks and crannies of my soul. It took me back to an earlier, simpler time where a handshake sealed a deal and people looked out for one other. It epitomized the Baja I'd come to cherish as a child ... a Baja I couldn't find in the rowdy streets of Rosarito or the trendy atmosphere of Los Cabos. No wonder I felt homesick when I was away and no wonder I kept coming back! No wonder my kids love it. It's a few leagues beyond The Discovery Channel ... a true outback where they can explore and learn first hand about the natural world. Together we can hike up mountains, down to deserted beaches, snorkel, ride horseback, kayak, shop at the mall or eat at one of the restaurants dotting the roadside. Or we can just hang out and enjoy the view of the Blow Hole from our patio. It's a slice of heaven. Trust me. And it's only two hours south of the border. But La Boof is changing since the government brought in electricity. By this time next year, most of the houses on the hillside will be wired. After that will come the telephones. Then the mail trucks. Then, of course, the hotels. Already Celia is expanding her restaurant and getting ready to build a boutique and laundry mat. Already this year The Blow Hole has made the front page of the Baja Sun and been featured in the travel sections of most of the Southern California papers. I know one or two people in La Bufadora who will be fairly annoyed with me after they read this article, anticipating an unchecked flood of gringos into our sacred place. Right now it's still remote and the only lights on at night are powered by leftover rays of the sun. It's worth a visit no matter what time of year it is, because every season will charm you in its own special way ... from the clear, warm days of fall to the crisp winter days with their wild storms, dramatic clouds, high surf and frequent gray whale sightings, to the languid, vibrantly hued days of spring. It's lovely and it's raw. Still. So, y'all come on down now and see us, ya hear?! Ann Hazard, a native San Diegan, is the author of two books about Baja. The first, Cooking With Baja Magic- Mouth-Watering Meals from the Enchanted Kitchens combines four generations of Ann's family's Baja adventure stories with 175 easy-enough-to-prepare recipes from all over the peninsula (including three from Caffé Todos Santos and lots of other famous Baja restaurants) with the whimsical folk art paintings of Laguna Beach Artist, Bob Bonn. This popular book is a must-have for anyone who loves Baja! Ann's newest book, Cartwheels in the Sand, is equally unique and has been dubbed a "City Slickers" for women. It describes the journey (both outward and inward) of four women who spend a month traveling the Baja peninsula. Cartwheels is a fast-paced, spicy story about facing life at mid-life. It's also a user-friendly, bonafide Baja guidebook that explodes the myth that women can't travel Baja on their own! Both books can be viewed on Ann's website: BajaMagic.com. |