Purgatory in Ensenada

Summer 1982, there were four of us (two couples), who planned what should have been an exciting weekend in Ensenada, Baja California, Mexico. Instead it became most probably one of the worst weekends that I have had the misfortune to endure.

We drove down on a Friday night. The first clue we had that luck was not looking over our shoulder came when we stopped for dinner. No water (not that we would have drank it), no ice (ditto) and only warm beer or soda available for consumption. Being too hungry to move on we grinned and bore it. Eating our fish tacos with warm Mexican beer.

The next warning shot across the bow came when we had settled in at our motel. The couple we were traveling with had brought along a bottle of champagne, which they had kept on ice. For whatever reason the darn cork would not come out of the bottle. We tried everything but to no avail. Finally I was sitting on the floor using a screwdriver to slowly loosen the cork when the bottle decided to explode in my lap. My hands went numb and I was sure that I had lost at least one major body part. When I finally developed the courage to look down I expected to find myself sitting in a pool of my own blood. Instead I found that my guardian angel was being rather efficient, my lap was covered in broken glass but I had not received a single scratch.

The next day my traveling companion who happened to be Mexican informed us that it was traditional for tourists in Ensenada to visit La Bufadora (the blowhole). So we set off in the car for the blowhole. It was located about thirty miles outside of the city. Most of the country we drove through was farmland. The road, so called, was a two-lane highway, which the farmers treated as their own. They were all over the road ignoring their assigned lane. Several times we were almost run off the road by old jalopies being driven on the wrong side of the road. Close to an hour later we finally reached the parking lot. We walked for another half mile to reach La Bufadora. We stopped behind the provided guardrail and waited for the excitement to begin. There was a low rumble similar to thunder and then much to our amazement water shot up in the air from a hole in the cliff. We almost died so we could thrill to site of water pressure throwing moisture into the air through a hole formed by erosion. Needless to say we were somewhat disappointed after the big buildup my significant other had given it. It would have been much safer to read the travel brochure in our room which explained: La Bufadora (The Blowhole): A natural cave formed by marine erosion, throws a gush of water that rises up to 24 feet when the waves come into it, producing the sound associated to its name; an amazing natural blowhole that spews seawater and foam high into the air. Several photographs accompanied the explanation.

On our final day in glorious Ensenada we were pulled over by the police for a supposed traffic violation. Apparently, the police there have developed the habit of supplementing their income by fleecing the tourists. We could either stay until Monday or Tuesday when the court opened and deal with the judge. Or we could pay the police officer to forget the whole thing. Needless to say we paid the officer and fled Ensenada as quickly as humanly possible.