The Ranch

The Sea of Cortez glistens in the distance, its salty waters offer nothing but a mirage to the arid land that surrounds the ranch that we are quickly approaching. Our arrival is unexpected, but as one of the few ranchers with access to fresh drinking water, guests are not a surprise. Don Fernando saunters out to greet our family. His broad cowboy hat shades the crevices on his weathered face, which deepen into a practiced pattern as he smiles. He knowingly nods and leads us to the sandy arroyo.

Taking their wisdom from the land, the ranchers ingeniously eke fertility from the Baja desert, like the succulents that thrive from cracks in the stone.The desert seems desolate and merciless to the undiscerning eye, but stillness unveils the lurid hues of Baja life - the fiery, cayenne colored wings of a tarantula hawk, the cool, cyan underbelly of a lizard, the tender white blossoms of the cardon cactus. Vultures float overhead, conducting a panoramic, visual symphony of life and death in the desert.

We fill our jugs, and make our way back to the ranch just as the elephant trees begin to dance in the shadows. As this magnificent display reaches its crescendo, the clanging of metal shakes us from our intoxication. A wanderlust cow, whose sense of adventure has won it the trophy bell tied around its neck, is ambling back to the ranch.

From the planked and thatched corners of the kitchen waft traces of past meals mingled with the preparation for the next. The dry, earthy air defuses the poignancy of any one scent, and even this far inland you can taste a hint of salt from the sea. Doña María has been busy in our absence. A fresh, wet wheel of farm cheese, crafted from generations of experience, glows on the wood countertop.

Trailed by a plume of dust we bump back towards the sea with our precious gifts. As we each share a bite of farm cheese the hymn of the the ranch takes root in our spirit.