Once we decide on a kayak, the guides help us get in and push off. Mereth advises us to group up 30 yards offshore, and she will lead us through the narrow, shallow passage into the mangroves. We parallel the shoreline for a few minutes, before Mereth lines up with the small opening in the sand bar, and powers in. Each kayak follows one-by-one, letting the focused swell of the tide push us through. The other kayaking group join us in the mangroves, but steer off in a different direction. We’ll meet up with them again later at the end of the excursion.

On the other side of the sand bar, the water is smooth, and largely calm. There’s a slight current, much like a lazy river, that pushes us gently through the tall bushy mangroves with only the slightest of paddling. The mangroves themselves hold countless egrets, herons, commorants and pelicans. We drift so silently that we can sneak right up to these magnificent birds, before they take flight in large numbers.

Floating through the narrow lanes between the trees, the mangroves are like a huge maze, each turn leading to another surprise section. One section in particular opens up into a huge clearing. In most places, we can look down and see the sandy bottom. Dried mangrove leaves add pops of orange color among the silt and coral. The experience is a bit reminiscent of our kayaking up to Lampough glacier in Alaska; quiet, serene, and calm. Really the only sounds coming from the bird calls and our paddles slushing through the water.

We meet back up with the other group of kayaks, and together we make our way out of the maze. Mereth has us all pause, while she determines the pacing of the swells at the inlet, then it’s time to gain a bit of speed and race through against the tide. The first few boats make it out with no issue, but a few kayaks take a swell to the bow and a huge groan goes up as the paddlers come away soaked.

No big deal. No one tipped over, just a little water. And pretty refreshing after paddling on this already warm morning. We all make it safely back to the beach, are helped out of our kayaks, and we take various skiffs back to the ship.

The group for the hard-charger hike across the island is first out in the skiffs, followed about 30 minutes later by two groups of moderate hikers. Once we hop out of the skiff, we find our way to a beach chair and slip out of our water shoes and into our hikers. Daniel’s booties were perfect, and easy to get in and out of. Once the hiking boots are firmly laced on, we unravel our walking poles. We’d, of course, brought ours from home, having bought some for our Alaskan cruise that we were never able to use because they were actually a tripping hazard in the snowy, frosty, undergrowthy climes of Glacier Bay. But here, in sunny Baja, they are a welcome prop for older legs. If you didn’t have some of your own, they were also provided on the boat.

Once shod, Josh leds us up the shallow embankment at the back of the beach, up and over into an amazing salt flat on the other side. We take care to walk around the salt, as Josh warns that parts can trap folks as the salt sticks together like concrete. Almost on cue, we spot a few footprints, presumably from the first group of hikers that had taken off a couple of minutes before us, that stopped in the middle of the flat and took an immediate 90 degree turn to get back to solid dirt.

We see Daniel and the first group ahead of us, noting that they’re making their way up the ridge along a path toward the front of the beach. Josh decides it’d be best to hike up a different path, further inland, to avoid pushing them faster than they were comfortable. “It just allows all of us to go at our own pace.” The hiking is, indeed, moderate, or moderate-plus. We work our way up the ridge, the shale underfoot slipping and crunching as we climbed. Eventually we reach the narrow ridge, the line snaking along the edge of the cliff like the spine of a scaly dinosaur. It is at this point that Josh tells us he used to be afraid of heights, and it was hikes like this that eventually helped him conquer his fear.

On the ridgeline, we are treated to spectacular views both across those turquoise waters of the bay, but also out over the straight that we had just motored through at lunchtime. The first group had hiked as far up the ridge as they could, and had now turned back, meeting us ¾’s of the way down. Bill and the film crew were hiking with Daniel’s group, and we spend a few minutes together waving at the drone flying high above us, before they begin the trek downward and we continue on to the top.

A brief water break, to take in the scenery and rest, and then it’s time to hike back down. Footrests hold, and poles keep us from tumbling, as we finally exit out from some high brush onto the openness of the far end of the beach. Trekking back on sand, along the way Josh walks alongside asking about where I’m from. He loves to learn other peoples stories. We talk about the Bay Area, Portland, and the Pacific Northwest, and eventually about our Alaskan cruise (since he’s from Haines, Alaska). We talk about Mikey, one of our expedition guides on the Wilderness Explorer. We agreed that everyone loved Mikey. Josh then goes on to say that Mikey left Uncruise because he met a girl, and Josh thought they’d be getting married soon. So Mikey, if you’re reading this, heartfelt congrats! May the adventure continue, always.

We eventually found our way back to the beachchairs, where we were finally able to take off our hiking boots, grab one of Brooke’s cool cocktails, and dip our weary feet in the bay, just as the hard-charger group was returning. We all gather at the waters edge for over an hour, exchanging stories from our day’s varying adventures, splashing in the cove, stand-up paddling, and toasting the week.