We drove south through a narrow cactus-lined two lane road with no shoulders. Not just very little shoulders, there were literally no shoulders at all. The lane just ended. It was pavement, then a drop of 6-12 inches, then desert. We had no room to mess up. We had no choice. We had to stay alert…

Karissa and I were peacefully woken up from our slumber by the sound of soft waves breaking on the beach. It was a distant, but gentle, pop. It was infrequent, but just frequent enough that, through our crusty, dreary, eyes, we were curious enough about it to poke our heads out the tent’s window.

Pop... pop... pop….

Our eyes strained to focus against the tent’s mosquito netting. But it didn’t take long for us to spot the source of the noise: a distant pod of whales playfully slapping their fins on the calm pink and purple predawn water.