All I can see through my snorkel mask is green murk, pierced by slanting rays of sunlight. I raise my head out of the water and look for the small sightseeing boat operated by Loreto Sea and Land Tours that brought me here to the windward side of Coronado Island in Loreto Bay National Marine Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site that encompasses five uninhabited islands and the peninsular coast. Above me are elephantine columns of pillow lava, a reminder of the immense geological forces ripping the Baja California peninsula away from mainland North America at a rate of about 45 millimetres per year. In front of me are around two dozen grunting, bellowing sea lions, sprawled on flat rocks dusted with “Baja snow” (read: bird poop).

One slips into the water, so I follow, kicking gently to drift closer to the rocks. At first, I still see nothing. Then, from the murky depths, the sea lion appears in a cloud of bubbles, a streamlined mammalian torpedo showing no hint of its terrestrial indolence.

I’m lifted on the crest of a wave and come face-to-face with the underwater portion of the towering volcanic rock wall above. I’m watching tiny fish congregate in the dappled light when my guide signals it’s time to return to the boat. The wind is picking up and there are more wonders to see.

We round the island and swim in the clear tourmaline water of a sheltered bay, a popular local hangout. Then it’s back in the boat for the long ride back to Loreto, timed to coincide with sunset. Like an exquisite dance costume, the sky is layered with streaks and ruffles of cloud in deepening shades of orange, purple, and pink. As the boat pitches through the rising swell, zigzagging between the troughs of the waves, a sudden splash behind me makes me turn just in time to see dozens of mobula rays leaping out of the surf.

It’s almost too much for the senses to absorb — the sea surging with life, the daylight burning itself out with the vigour of a soprano dying onstage. The leeward slopes of the Sierra de la Giganta plunge to the water, with just a thin margin of desert in between; in the fading light, their sharp, dry peaks resemble the teeth of some huge, ancient beast. I am caught in its jaws, helpless in the face of wild nature unleashed.

It’s experiences like this that keep Theresa Storm coming back to Loreto each winter. Storm, a travel writer from Calgary, owns a condo in Loreto Bay, a small resort village located a few minutes south of Loreto in Nopoló. Granados introduces us on my second day in Loreto and we hit it off instantly, bonding over our shared love of the sea.

In late 2019, Storm and her husband Reid were invited by a friend to spend the winter in Loreto. When COVID-19 hit early the next year, they hightailed it back to Canada, but by then, they were hooked. 

“We love the community, we love the nature,” Storm says. Their kitchen window looks out on the Sierra and at sunset, the mountains look “5D,” with layers of colour constantly changing with the light.

Best of all, Storm says, Loreto is still distinctly Mexican. With a population of approximately 25,800, the city has a single traffic light. A pedestrian thoroughfare runs from the shore to the mission in the heart of town, where the church bells still chime the hour as they’ve done for centuries, though charmingly out of sync with the satellite-calibrated time on my phone. In the cool, fragrant evenings, the pebbly beaches are full of picnicking families, the central square alive with music and laughter from the locally-owned restaurants that surround it. There’s not a single big box store, and until last year, there were no American fast-food joints (though there’s now a Subway). 

Because the town is situated in a marine park, there is a sense, shared by locals and snowbirds alike, that the ocean on their doorstep is their greatest asset. Storm admits that her career as a travel writer has sometimes bumped up against her desire to see Loreto stay small, quiet and relatively unknown and undeveloped.

“It’s hard for me because I love it so much and yet I kind of want to keep it secret,” she laughs. “We live in a protected area, so we want to make sure it stays pristine and protected.”