Picture this. The sun is dropping fast over the Pacific, going from gold to copper to something close to red, and you’re sitting on a cliffside terrace with a cold drink, watching the light hit a 200-foot rock arch rising straight out of the sea. Below you, two oceans meet — the Pacific on one side, the Sea of Cortez on the other — and the line where they collide is visible from where you’re sitting. Pelicans work the thermals. A whale surfaces maybe a quarter mile out, exhales a plume of white mist, and slides back under. The waiter arrives with something involving good tequila and fresh lime. You are at the edge of the Baja California peninsula, and this is a Tuesday.
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