Autumn entered San Carlos in a fascinating manner. Not with cooler nights, the ripening of acorn squash, the return of pumpkin spice lattes or colorful leaves raining down from the trees. Instead the changing season crept in as a shroud of mist blanketing the town.
The proceeding summer months gripped the community with stunningly beautiful, sunny days partnered with an oppressive level of humidity. By the end of September the temperatures slowly began to drop in the evening but the steamy air continued to wind itself into every aspect of life. A short morning walk created a rivulet of sweat down my spine and the refreshing feeling following a dip in the pool lasted mere moments. On a positive note the humidity challenged my sweat glands as never before. Mini splits, the common AC choice in Mexico, set to dehumidifier mode created a much appreciated bubble of rejuvenation inside our home.
As the hours of sunlight continued to shorten and the sun shifted its setting position to the left side of Tetakawi the nightly breeze picked up, often taking with it the muggy presence of the day. Some evenings felt as if fall was putting forth its best effort to punch through the repetitiousness. But daylight abandoned the fight and the pseudo Mexican summer remained.
One morning however, I awoke and opened the curtains to discover what appeared to be the scene from Pirates of the Caribbean in which the uncatchable ship, the Black Pearl, sails menacingly through a veil of fog. It was as if the normally swirling clouds from high above had descended to take up residence on the waters of San Carlos. Looking over the bay I half expected to see Captain Jack Sparrow swan diving from a ship’s crow’s nest into the Sea of Cortez.
Instead I watched a mist roll into the bay eventually blanketing the always visible Cerro Tetakawi. Boats anchored to mooring balls in the harbor simply vanished from view. Others cautiously sailed forward into the fog. The usually dipping and diving pelicans and gulls flew silently above the murk as if threatened by the unknown. Within minutes all that is ordinarily discernible from our back deck was cocooned in an enormous cloud.
Interestingly the darkening sky brought with it an increased noise level in the usually quiet Caracol Peninsula. Whirring, banging, grinding, clanging echoed from the now concealed construction zone of the home below. Boats blasted their horns sending warning signs of their locations. Dogs began their version of the ‘Twilight Bark’ communicating the oddity surrounding them. The questioning voices of kayakers dipping their oars into the water 100 yards away clearly carried to listeners on the shore. Though the mist had enveloped the beautiful day the lively energy and hum of Mexico was still as present as ever.
Almost as quickly as the cloud of fall arrived it rolled on toward the marina and continued its journey into town. Within two hours San Carlosians were once again bathed in sunlight. Following the mysterious veil the nights grew cooler and the level of humidity plummeted. For the first time in months the rushing sound of condensation from the overworked mini split decreased to a simple drip, drop, drip trickle. While the calendar was well past September 22, autumn had finally and officially arrived in San Carlos, Mexico.
November 27, 2020
“And all at once, summer collapsed into fall.”– Oscar Wilde, poet