For the past year, I’ve worked as a Wellness Specialist aboard expedition ships. My role includes leading sunrise yoga sessions and assisting with shore excursions like kayaking, stand-up paddleboarding, and hiking tours. While at sea, I manage the ship’s spa and provide various spa services.
Between contracts, I pursue my solo global travels. Sometimes I chill and rest; other trips are more adventurous. After a particularly active journey through NE Australia and before returning to work on a ship in Mexico, I had three days in California to repack at my sister’s house in Santa Cruz. She mentioned that her husband was seeking a new tenant for the studio adjacent to their house. Considering I planned to travel to France, Spain, and Portugal this summer, I was surprised to hear myself say “I’m interested.”
I’m not particularly interested in settling back in California, but the ease of this rental was appealing: No searching for a place, no application process… I could just land. How easy would it be to carry the boxes I’ve stored in their attic to the apartment right next door?
I’ve been traveling 17 months straight and I’m a bit worn out. I’ve started longing for downtime to pursue other interests and simply take care of my health and fitness. I don’t foresee myself settling for long, but I want to regroup and process the last year and a half.
“Europe may have to wait.” I thought.
I told my sister I’d mull it over and jumped on a plane the following morning headed south of the border.
Mexico
Baja California is a vast desert peninsula, separated from mainland Mexico by the stunning aqua-blue waters of the Sea of Cortez. It consists of two Mexican states: Baja California to the north and Baja California Sur to the south.
In my twenties, I drove the length of the 1,000-mile peninsula five times, spending months camping along its remote beaches. Once, I even crossed it on foot, trekking from the Sea of Cortez to the Pacific Ocean with nothing but a backpack and a pair of sandals—earning blister upon blister along the way. Using a topographic map as our guide, we navigated from one water source to the next, sleeping under the stars on the desert floor and shaking scorpions from our clothes each morning. The journey was meant to be a trial run for a grander expedition—hiking the full length of the peninsula with a burro to carry supplies—but we never made it past the test.
On the second-to-last day, lost and out of water, we spotted a pair of SUVs tearing across the open desert. Desperate, we sprinted toward them, waving frantically. The first vehicle sped past, but the second skidded to a stop, its occupants offering us beer, soda, and directions to the nearest highway. The next morning, we reached Highway 1 and caught a ride in the back of a pickup truck to Guerrero Negro.
From the airport in San Jose del Cabo, a group of ship guests and I boarded a shuttle northward to the capital of Baja Sur. La Paz still has a small-town feel with neighborhood farmers markets and friendly cafes, but the drug war had found its way to southern Baja. While traveling Australia I’d been following the local Mexican news and it wasn’t encouraging. A steady stream of executions and hangings have plagued the community throughout the winter, though no foreigners have been involved.
My first night was spent at a resort outside La Paz. The guests and I crossed the peninsula by motorcoach the following day to rendezvous with the ship at the tiny fishing port of San Carlos.
Watching the desert pass from the coach window, I wasn’t excited to be in Mexico. It’s not Mexico’s fault, I just hit a (temporary) wall with my wanderlust.
“If I’m not excited to be in a foreign country, there’s no reason to be here,” I thought. At that moment, I decided to return to California after finishing my final spring contracts in Mexico.
Cruising
From January through the end of April, I worked on a series of contracts with varied itineraries in the Sea of Cortez and Pacific. The first few voyages cruised back and forth around the southern tip of Baja searching for wildlife and exploring pristine shores by inflatable zodiacs, kayaks, snorkeling, and hiking.
On the Pacific coast, we visited grey whales where they winter in the warm water lagoons year after year, mating and birthing calves. Many have grown accustomed to human interaction and clearly, enjoy the interspecies love fest. On a good day, they’d approach the inflatable zodiacs and hang out to share touch and excitement.
On one such occasion, I was in the right spot at the right moment to receive a cuddle from a baby whale who swam up to the boat and directly into my outstretched arms.
After a season of visiting grey whales, I can safely say that they do respond to enthusiasm and excitement. If you get the chance, don’t be shy or sit meekly by. Let them know you wanna say “Hi.” If they’re not in the mood, they can elude you quite easily.
My second set of contracts had a longer voyage, allowing for further travel up the Sea of Cortez to Bahia de Los Angeles where we hiked through Boojum trees.
I’d hiked through these same trees when I was 22 years old. It was special to return at age 49 and find them virtually unchanged. The town of Bahia de Los Angeles hadn’t changed much either; Still no cell reception. Though I’m told there’s “wifi at the bar.”
Spring weather was unusually cold in North America and extended south to Baja. With uncooperative winds on a 60 passenger ship, it was a rocky ride and I was often miserably nauseous.
“If you don’t become the ocean, you’ll be seasick every day.” ~Leonard Cohen
During one such storm, I lay in the spa writing myself a list of reasons why I won’t continue with this position. The reasons have nothing to do with sea-sickness, but it seemed a good time to write them. When I look at the experiences this job offers, it’s enticing to continue.
But the bottom line is, my particular position needs a lot of improvement. It’s a perfect storm for injury and burn-out, and I don’t see change coming soon enough.
‘They’ say to “always end on a good note,” and my last two contracts were as good as it gets… the best of the year. My team was awesome. Instead of leaving me to launch and rack kayaks alone, many hands helped.
The weather also warmed up and I was finally able to teach yoga in a tank top rather than a down jacket.
Most importantly, the wildlife was phenomenal! We followed a Blue Whale, the largest animal ever to have lived on earth, for a number of hours.
Dolphins regularly accompanied us by playfully riding the wake of the ship. We also came across multiple pods swimming together by the hundreds.
On one such occasion, we were immersed in dolphins as far as the eye could see when – enter stage left – a pod of Orca came rolling in full force to feed on the dolphins. Orca leaped their full-bodies out of the water to move more quickly through the air and pounce down on the dolphins. It was incredible and horrible and beautiful all in one. I love dolphins, but orca need to eat!
I’d seen video footage of Orca in the Cortez on YouTube and was just thinking that same morning how I wished to see them here before my contract finished …and they came! It was a rare sighting that I was fortunate to witness.
California
When it was all over, I stepped off the ship, boarded a plane, and flew home. Good old Santa Cruz—she always welcomes me back.
Doors opened effortlessly. I’m doing skincare at a resort nestled in the hills and teaching yoga at multiple locations. My new apartment, just a short walk from Seabright State Beach, is the perfect spot to settle in. Mornings start with runs along the shore, followed by outdoor yoga on the harbor jetty—simple rituals that make me feel grounded.
I picked up a car, a bike, and a few household essentials, with the rest found for free on Craigslist. After years of living out of a backpack, I’ve realized I don’t need much.
Right now, my focus is on my health, resetting, and figuring out my next steps—this time, without the ship job. For now, Santa Cruz feels easy, and maybe, for a little while, that’s exactly what I need.