As I sit here in my favorite coffee shop in the center of Montreal, peering out at the whiteout caused by a sudden, January blizzard, I am reminded of warmer times, spent in the company of Phill Michael and his Secret Spot Adventures.

My name is Paul Dalgleish, and I have had the distinct pleasure of being a close friend of Phill since he was a wee lad of 13. 

'Crab Crackin' Paul'

My girlfriend, Vanessa, and I have recently returned from a 365 day trip around the world. (In a shameless attempt at self promotion, you can also read about our adventures on my website at http://www.telusplanet.net/~rmanke/dogdish/.) I believe this recent experience, and many other past trips, qualify me to make certain judgments and comparisons with regards to my trips with Phill. Certainly, they rank at or near the top of my travel experiences. Phill’s bottomless energy levels, his twisted sense of humor, as well as his positive perspective on life, almost always equals a memorable time for anyone traveling with him. That’s not to say that he doesn’t screw up sometimes! ( I’ll spill the beans unless I get that deal, Phill!)

One of my first Baja adventures was a solo trip with just Phill and I wandering the southern portion of the Baja Peninsula for 10 days, racking up thousands of often-grueling kilometers, all the while trying to sample as much as this remarkable land had to offer.

One of our first stops was a small uninhabited island a couple of kilometers offshore on the Sea of Cortez. We drove to a large, mostly deserted port south of Loreto, arriving late in the evening. Apparently it had been constructed years before by the Mexican government in hopes of developing a large, vibrant port in this ideally suited bay. But the money well ran dry, and a successive government abandoned the project, leaving only partially constructed concrete piers, break walls, and buildings. Now they were left untended to slowly disintegrate under the unrelenting elements: the sun, wind, and salt water; a proverbial ghost port.

 With only a partial moon, and the trucks headlights to light our way, we laid out our foam pads and sleeping bags at the end of one of  the docks. We needed to get some shut-eye before setting out for the island in the morning in our 2-man kayak. Since this was my first experience in the Baja, I was a little nervous at being so exposed, lying there staring at the stars, with no cover from the elements or from strangers. I took some comfort in the fact that Phill didn’t even bother to lock the truck, which told me that he considered the area safe. As well, we hadn’t seen a soul since we had arrived.

With the rising of the sun, I awoke from a surprisingly deep sleep to the sound of movement around me. I opened my eyes and was surprised to see a number of Mexican fishermen gingerly stepping around the prone shapes of Phill and I in an attempt to get their boats and gear into the water, without disturbing our slumber. They seemed not the least bit surprised at the sight of two gringos sleeping on their dock. I think I was the only one taken aback. As I quickly stepped into some shorts, and rolled up my kit, they mostly ignored us, more intent on getting to their fishing spot by feeding time.

We pulled out the kayak, packed our food and supplies, and soon set out for the island. In the protected harbor, the water was dead calm, and the paddling effortless. As we got out into the open sea however, the water got choppier, and soon I was sweating profusely, despite the early morning chill. Unaccustomed to paddling a kayak, I was getting pretty uncomfortable. Phill never even blinked; this was second nature to him. As we approached our destination, my whining was suddenly interrupted by a large sea lion, who popped up unexpectedly right beside the kayak, and proceeded to bawl out what must have been a stream of obscenities in sea lion talk, perhaps for us having invaded his turf. While I nearly peed myself in surprise, Phill seemed unimpressed. He assured me we had nothing to fear from the sea lions. He said being rammed by a whale was of much greater concern. I wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not, but I did shut up and redouble my paddling efforts.

Our chosen secret spot was a tiny island, maybe a kilometer around, consisting mostly of rock, scrub brush, cacti, and a few trees. A secluded lagoon, with a small, sandy beach provided a cozy sanctuary from any passing boats. For all intense purposes, it was just Phill and I for a couple of days of total peace and quiet. The first thing Phil told me to do was take off my watch. I wouldn’t need it here. I soon stopped worrying about the time of day, and let myself relax completely. One thing I learned quickly about traveling with Phill…you had better not be in a hurry. You’re on Phill time now!

 During the daylight hours, we passed our time reading, snorkeling, swimming, sun tanning and exploring the rest of the island. We lay on the beach staring at passing clouds, often conjuring up the same images. Phill was a real trooper for trying to teach me how to spearfish while snorkeling. Of course, I caught nothing, and consider myself fortunate that I didn’t impale myself on the sharp spear, or worse, mistake the portly, wetsuit clad Phill for a potential tuna steak dinner. I marveled at his ability to free dive to amazing depths in search of game. Long after I took refuge from the chilly waters, Phill remained, repeatedly diving and resurfacing. The tropical fish he caught for dinner didn’t look very appetizing, but inevitably became mouthwatering, culinary delights in his skilled hands. I was impressed with the elaborate meals he could concoct with only the limited spices, vegetables, and canned goods we could cram aboard the kayak.

Darkness came shortly after six. After eating and some fireside chat, there was nothing else to do but go to bed early. As the fire burned to embers, but for the starlit sky, there was utter blackness. Lying on the soft sand, curled up in a down bag to protect against the cool, desert night, I fell asleep easily.  My last thought before dozing off  was that this was the perfect antidote for the hectic, manic, lifestyle that I was leading at the time.

Time passed and all too quickly, it seems we were paddling away from that little piece of paradise. We were sad to leave, but at the same time, eager to move on to new adventures. We were not disappointed.

Symbolically perhaps, as I finish this tale, the blizzard has suddenly stopped, the clouds have parted, and the winter sun is shining brilliantly on the freshly fallen snow. Hmm!

 To be continued….