Grown Up Los Cabos

THE GREAT ROCKS ON THE END of the peninsula are almost literary,” wrote John Steinbeck about Cabo San Lucas. “They are a fitting Land’s End, standing against the sea, the end of a thousand miles of peninsula and mountain.”

Steinbeck approached from the sea; I came by air. We were both searching for something down here in this last bit of land of Baja California. Steinbeck was looking for tidepool creatures. I was looking for reassurance that Los Cabos, famous for cantinas and tequila, would still have magic for someone decades past the frat parties of college life. In other words, had too many years passed, or had Los Cabos grown up with me?

The answer came quickly. We checked into the Sheraton Hacienda del Mar Resort & Spa, situated on the Corridor, the highway that runs between Cabo San Lucas and the other cape of Los Cabos, San José del Cabo. Our room had a Jacuzzi tub and walk-in shower, and the balcony gave us a glorious view of the water. With its tropical landscaping, the hotel’s Old World charm tempted us to simply stay at the swim-up bar and drink Margaritas, drying off only long enough to enjoy a massage together at the Cactus Spa and to consume another gourmet meal at D’Cortez.

But I was on a mission. The next day, I made up my mind to go into Cabo San Lucas. As soon as we stepped off the shuttle from the hotel, we discovered it’s not the cantinas but rather the marina that is the focus of life in Cabo. Water taxis, Jet Skis, fishing boats and a modern mall line the harbor. Eschewing the so-called “booze cruises,” we booked a dinner cruise aboard the Caborey, a 144-foot catamaran that dwarfs all nearby boats.

As the ship sailed past Land’s End, we saw Lovers’ Beach, which Steinbeck described as “a small boy’s dream of pirates.” Sure enough, at that moment the Buccaneer Queen swung into sight, a “pirate” ship with guests enjoying their own sunset cruise.

On the Caborey, the drinks were endless, the food was good, and at the end came a tango and gaucho dance show. Gaucho dancing is an art form only now starting to take hold outside of Argentina. With the beating of the bombo drum and the swinging of boleadoras, it is a magnificently defiant dance, fitting for the rocks we were passing that still hold out against modern encroachment. Should you prefer your meal served on dry land, Cabo has also seen the rise of great restaurants offering not only Mexican cuisine but international fare such as Thai and Italian. After dinner, we found O Mole Mio, a quiet bar/restaurant decorated with a whimsical eclecticism of wrought iron and Día de los Muertos figures. We next stayed at the Westin Resort & Spa, located at the other end of the Corridor. The Westin’s enormous span between the beach cliffs was inspired by the famous Arch of Land’s End, and its colors were taken from the desert and ocean. Guests can enjoy massages in The Spa or on the beach in a private cabaña. The seven pools offer respite from the heat, and several restaurants offer delicious meals throughout the day, including different buffets for each night of the week. The next day, we took a cab into San José. “Sophisticated” and “traditional” were the two adjectives I’d heard used for the town. I thought them paradoxical until we walked around the plaza and down Boulevard Mijares. Restaurants range from taco stands to indoor gourmet dining. Shop windows beckoned and we succumbed, buying etched glasses at Sol Dorado and a handpainted planter at Necri, galleries that showcase artists from various regions. Later we walked to the Estero, a delta that once gave sanctuary to wary pirates and now provides peaceful vistas for the weary traveler. If you wish to journey further abroad, the hotels can help you with tours to Todos Santos, a remote artist colony, or to La Paz, called the finest city in Baja. Concierges can arrange tee times at one of the championship courses; horseback rides let you experience the arroyos and hillsides edging the ocean.

Because always there is the ocean. On our last evening, we sat at On the Rocks, the bar adjacent to Arrecifes at the Westin, drinking a bottle of Mexican wine, saying little, merely watching the full moon rise over the Sea of Cortéz.

The moon and the sea are one, said Steinbeck as he discovered a sense of wholeness during his trip. Watching the silver stream of moonlight on the water, I too discovered this oneness in the universe—and also that time cannot be measured in years. In the end, perhaps, that is the magic of Los Cabos.

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