Jan Fitzhugh, Special to the Wimberley View
A long-standing tradition for our family has been to travel for the holidays. Our extended family spends a week or two in a vacation home where we can all be together under one roof. The destination this year was Sayulita, a charming fishing village on the Pacific coast of Mexico. The town, full of friendly locals and vagabond surfers, is built around a lively plaza. The vibe is laidback, inviting everyone to slow down.
Open-air cafes with freshly swept sand floors dot the beach and beckon diners with signs promising fresh seafood caught daily and ice cold cerveza. We chose one with colorful umbrellas to relax and plan our adventures. A day of deep-sea fishing was at the top of the list.
That evening at Casa Bougainvillea, perched high on a hill overlooking the Pacific, our host, Luis, recommended a charter boat to take us fishing early the next morning. He would make all the arrangements.
Shortly after sunrise, my two brothers, nephew, husband and I gathered, eager to spend the day reeling in trophy fish. In the distance a tiny boat, jetting across the glassy water into the cove below, interrupted the quiet morning. Luis arrived and we followed him down the steps to the beach.
We searched the horizon for the charter boat but didn’t see it. We speculated that maybe the small motorboat we’d seen from the terrace was there to take us out of the cove to the ‘real’ fishing boat. My brother, the only one fluent in Spanish, spoke to Luis and after a long conversation he turned to us and announced that the tiny motorboat was indeed our ‘real’ boat. The boat was the size of a shallow Jon Boat, maybe fifteen feet in length, 4 feet wide and only a couple of feet above the surface of the water.
We stared at each other and at the two fishermen on board, Fernando and Gustavo, readying the boat for departure. What should we do? Should we risk our lives in that tiny boat? Well, we were on a picturesque beach, on vacation, in a foreign land. Why not a little adventure?
We helped push the boat out and set out across the water. We discovered there were no life jackets on board, and it soon became evident that Gustavo’s primary role was to bail water out of the boat with a large Styrofoam cup. There were leaks: many, many leaks!
Making our way across the cove, we all began to catch one beautiful fish after another. Fernando would pronounce the Spanish name for each species as we pulled it from the water. We couldn’t reel them in fast enough and we no longer cared about life jackets or Gustavo’s job as the water-bailer. When we looked up we saw that we had drifted into the open ocean with swells above our heads, and perhaps closer to heaven than any of us had ever been.
My husband caught a blue marlin measuring nearly the entire length of our little vessel. This prompted us to ask Fernando and Gustavo about the biggest fish they’d ever seen. They used outstretched arms to show us. Our nephew asked, “like a whale, a ballena?” “Si!” At that very moment, we heard a loud noise and saw a whale spouting water high into the air only a few feet away.
This was the prelude to an incredible acrobatic performance by the whale, with full breaches, up and out of the water, dancing on its tail and then falling flat on the water next to us, creating huge waves, rocking us back and forth in the turbulence. We were holding on for dear life, while we experienced the most incredible encounter with nature imaginable.
When the ballena took a final dive, we watched as it disappeared into the dark sea. We sat very still for a long time, mesmerized by what we had just witnessed, hoping he would resurface for an encore. He did not.
Jan Fitzhugh, is a longtime leader in senior care, and lobbyist for senior rights in Texas. She now spends her time in Wimberley as a principal in the art community. Always eager to connect and collaborate, she also volunteers for various nonprofit projects in Wimberley. jan.fitzhugh@ outlook.com
