Family Beach Holiday in Rocky Point, Mexico

Overview:
Southern Arizona residents love to escape their desert heat by fleeing to the beach. The small fishing community of Puerto Pensasco, or Rocky Point, is popular for those in both Phoenix and Tucson as the easy drive to the Sonoran coast takes just four to five hours by car.

Drawn to the remote sandy beaches or the variety of fun-filled sports activities, so many Americans frequent the area that tourism is generating more revenue than shrimping. English is widely spoken by locals in shops, restaurants, hotels, guided tours and rental agencies in town. Further out, gated expat communities are sprouting up all over the coast. Many offer their beach homes for reasonable rent. The beaches are filled with so many American families that it's easy to forget you're in another country. Lovely Mexico.

In town, colorful curio shops selling silver jewelry, gauzy dresses and painted pottery line the busy seaside street in the Old Port malecon. Festive mariachi music streams from outdoor restaurants featuring fresh seafood and strawberry margaritas. Ice cream shops, taco stands and tour operators squeeze into leftover space.

Parking space is limited downtown, where congested lines wait to reach the harbor. Veer left as you enter the Old Port and park one next street up behind a statue with outstretched arms in front of an empty plaza.

BEACHES
Sugary soft beaches that extend for miles are the biggest draw. Excellent shelling and tidepooling are possible at low tide. At high tide, snorkeling, boogie boarding or surfing depend on whether or not the waves are feisty. All these activities are possible from your doorstep if you rent a beach house. You've come for the beach, why not stay on the beach, away from mega-hotel and condo crowds?

BEACH HOMES
The five beach communities southeast of town have the softest sand and most remote beaches. Nightly rates in a rented beach home range from for 2 to for 22 people. Some of these include maids, cooks and air conditioning.

Ten minutes south of town is Las Conchas, the first beach community. It is one of the best areas for tidepooling. Homes here are connected to city electricity and water and provide air-conditioning. No ATVs or jetskis are allowed in this gated community. This is where we stayed.

Quick Tips:

Our home had 3 bedrooms, 2 full bathrooms, tiled floors, fireplace, a modern kitchen and great access to a quiet beach. Sure, there were some bugs and ill-fitting patio doors warped by constant exposure to the elements but we were on the beach!

Homes further south in the beach communities of La Jolla, Playa Encante, Playa Dorada and Playa Miramar take between fifteen and thirty minutes to reach from town. All operate on solar power. Water is delivered once or twice a week, and some have generators for air-conditioning at additional cost. Beaches are more remote, especially in Dorada and Miramar where shelling is the primary activity on wide expansive shores not far from Bird Island.

North of town in Cholla Bay, the beach is rocky. Your neighbors will be staying at mega resorts, condos, and luxurious hotels blocking the sun. Click on the regional map and view images of beach homes for rent at either Rocky Point Vacation Homes or Great Rentals.

Best Way To Get Around:

An hour outside Tucson you'll pass Kitt's Observatory as you drive southwest on highway 86. Continue for another 70 miles until it merges with highway 85, which travels south from Phoenix. Another ten miles south and you'll pass through Organ Pipe National Monument which stretches to the border.

Rocky Point is another 65 miles south on Route 8. Lukeville's border crossing is a breeze. No passports are required in this free zone. But do buy Mexican car insurance should a mishap occur.

Once glance at some of the Mexican cars is enough to realize that accidents may happen. One car approaching us at a busy intersection had the driver's window covered with cardboard, totally obliterating his view, but keeping out the wind. Another car had a four-year-old boy at the wheel. He was, at second glance, sitting in his father's lap. Four way stops are free-for-alls, and locals cross streets at whim.

The roads are easy to navigate and well-maintained, making it a good place for first time travelers or those with young children. But if you're an independent traveler seeking authentic Mexican experiences off the beaten track you'll likely be happier continuing down the coast.

Postcard-perfect beaches stretching north and southeast of town deservedly draw both American and Mexican tourists. And activities abound--surfing, snorkeling, windsurfing, scuba diving, kayaking, sailing, fishing, jetskiing, and even parasailing.

Lobo Del Mar and other operators offer four hour excursions to Bird Island, a protected habitat 22 miles south of town. Participants can scuba dive ($95) or snorkel ($65) around 20 species of birds (including terns, pelicans and elusive blue-footed boobies common only in the Galapagos) and 20,000 sea lions. Another popular activity is a sunset cruise. Lobo Del Mar ($25) attracts adults with free margaritas and belly dancers on their hour-and-a-half cruise, while their competition Rey Del Mar boasts a two hour ride with interactive games and contests aboard a pirate ship.

Numerous operators rent sand buggies, kayaks, quadbikes, and even extreme golf carts designed for the beach. Catamaran sightseeing trips, snorkeling, sailing excursions and fishing charters range from two to six hours. You can even go scuba diving without experience or certification on special tours led by dive masters.

If you prefer your beach holiday a little more low key, simply bring your own gear. Strap on your snorkel and wade into shallow waters. Bring a boogie board, inflatable kayak or raft. Grab a bucket for collecting seashells and sea critters when the tide goes out. Or borrow your kiddo's plastic shovel to create a shell-embellished sand castle.

There are plenty of deserted shores which feel like private beaches, even in October's high season.

Just realize that they may not be there tomorrow. The coastline is rapidly changing. Condos, mega resorts like the Mayan Palace, and private residences are sprouting up, especially north of town. We discovered that a rocky cove north in Cholla Bay, where Scott snorkeled just months ago, is now closed to the public as new developments have restricted its use. Major projects are currently in the planning stages to attract affluent guests who prefer yacht clubs, golf courses and luxury hotels to wild, windswept beaches.

Two miles southeast of town in the gated community of Las Conchas exist miles of idyllic beaches framed by white haciendas, sand dunes, palms and volcanic rock. We spent hours wandering the shoreline, collecting shells, exploring tidepools, and snorkeling right outside our door. But even if you're not renting one of these guest homes, you can still enjoy the uncrowded beaches as public access paths are scattered along the road.

The best shelling beach is located a fifteen minute drive beyond Las Conchas. Follow the dirt road southeast and park at the sole condo building. Walk left along the expansive shoreline toward a half-erected pier. Clam shells line the perimeter of a vast rippled sand bed exposed at low tide. We walked for hours and encountered only two other families in this uninhabited wilderness. The girls ran freely and filled bags with sea-polished conch, snails and murex shells before the afternoon disappeared into a gorgeous rosy-pink sunset.

What makes tidepooling so much fun in Rocky Point is the variety of marine life you can find with little effort. When the tide goes out, miles and miles of rocky shoreline are suddenly exposed. Tides cause water levels to vary up to 23 feet along this stretch of the Sea of Cortez.

The community of Las Conchas, where we happened to be staying, boasts some of the best tidepooling in the region. Lucky for us. Before breakfast each morning we simply stepped outside our rented beach home to reach the intertidal zone.

Clad in aqua shoes, the girls ran ahead with their little green butterfly nets and miniature aquariums eager to scoop up goby fish, sponges, starfish, and creepy spindly brittlefish. Sonja and Sophia, aged 6 and 8, were obviously a chip off the 'ole block. Moving across the rocks with razor sharp eyes they fearlessly stuck hands into dark holes and extracted strange sea creatures like their father, Scott, a fisheries professor. David and I, and our 4 year old Jordan, were much more hesitant to peel things off upturned rocks, pick up mean-looking crabs or grab sea urchins.

At one point I glanced over and saw Sonja holding an octopus.

"You have an octopus!?" I asked, my voice rising with excitement. I hurried over and watched it squirm in her hand. I had never seen one live, or so small. Maybe two inches long. It's tiny pink arms curled in the air, sensing it's surroundings. Sonja's expression was serious, analytical. She gave him a once-over then plopped him into her aquarium. She moved on to another pool while I stood there dazed. Scott found another octopus and dropped him in Sonja's collection.

Sophia had been busy catching shrimp but now wanted her dad to help her fish for sargent majors. They waded through ankle-deep water, holding the front poles of the seine low as they dragged the net to scoop up tiny striped fish and handfuls of hermit crabs.

"Hey, look at this!" Scott said minutes later. He stuck his finger into a crevice and fished out a fireworm that stretched six inches across his palm. It had red-tipped spines. Jordan immediately retorted a warning about not touching anything red because it could be poisonous. Scott laughed, but later that night read that the red colors did in fact indicate toxins in that species. Scott would also discover that the little octopuses he and Sonja held were those that often bite when handled. Luckily neither were bit by their tiny beaks.

It was a temporary consolation, however, when we realized the next morning that one of the octopuses had escaped from the aquarium sitting on the kitchen table. Known for being highly intelligent (one stole a knife from David when dove in the Caribbean), the octopus apparently found a way to slither out the trap door, across the tile, over the sand and back to sea.

The Acuario Cet-Mar is Rocky Point's aquarium. Just don't come expecting Sea World or flashy aquariums like those in Chattanooga or Duluth. Here, in a small concrete building located in the expat community of Las Conchas, simple unadorned sink-sized aquariums line the walls and house a single fish in each. Golden dogfish, eels, trigger fish, tilapia, stingrays, eels, and other regional fish swim behind glass, while larger species of assorted marine life and invertebrates swim around in open circular tanks. Visitors have unobstructed views of lobster, shrimp, and a dangerous fish species "that attacked a wild dog."

Three sea turtles swim in the center of the room, straining their heads over the concrete wall of a low-lying pool in eager anticipation of food. Chunks of fish can be purchased at the door for $2 a bag. Judging from their behavior, visitors are clearly associated with food. Just be forewarned that they may bite. Parents should take care in watching their children, who tend to run over and peer inside, oblivious to the stretching necks that can rapidly reach innocent fingers.

The star attraction of the aquarium is a pair of sea lions that are caged behind a wire fence above a pool at one end of the room. Their barks echo against the cement walls with such deafening noise that children tend to cover their ears or cling to their daddy's necks in fear. The sea lions can be fed. And expect it. But a word of caution. Of the three openings in the wire fence, the one closest to the back wall is big enough for a sea lion to stick its head and body through. Tourists standing here get a big surprise when a sea lion swims over and suddenly lunges through the fence to steal fish food from their hands–whether or not they're holding any.

Six year old Sonja got bit. She'd been feeding them by throwing fish chunks through the opening, but apparently got a little too close. My four year old wanted nothing to do with the annoying yelping creatures and stayed on the opposite side of the room preferring eels and stingrays. Can't say I blamed her. The larger sea lion looked a bit crazed with supersized bulging eyes, and their erratic behavior squelched any fleeting desire on my part to feed them. It was far more entertaining to watch older children and adults alike jump back alarmed each time a sea lion lunged toward them.

My daughter finally left the safety of daddy's arms when we approached a touch tank a foot off the ground. She squealed with delight when she spied an octopus sliding under a rock, and laughed at the movement of hermit crabs tickling the palm of her hand.

The aquarium is run by scientists from CEDO (Intercultural Center for the Study of Desert and Ocean) who conduct research about regional ecology and marine life. Open 10-5 daily. Admission is $3.

Dining options in this seaside resort feature seafood, of course. Shrimp boats flocking the harbor allude to the regional specialty. Restaurants wedged between souvenir shops lining the malecon all offer shrimp prepared this way and that: foil-wrapped, boiled, breaded, coconut fried, Hawaiian-styled, steamed in fruit juice, brandied, and on and on. And if you like shrimp, then great for you. You'll be in gastronomic heaven during your stay. The shrimp is reportedly fresh and delicious. Even the shrimp cocktail, served in a sundae dish with fresh tomatoes, garlic, cilantro, and onions, is to-die-for!

If, however, you don't care for shrimp or happen to be allergic to shellfish, like me, then your choices are somewhat more limited. Most restaurants do offer one fish dish (tilapia, flounder), one chicken dish, and a sampling of traditional Mexican fare: enchiladas, quesadillas, nachos and tacos. Being in Mexico, and a huge fan of Mexican food, I was disappointed with the generic fare most places served, apparently in an attempt to tone down their selections for an American palate. Where were chilis, flavor, complexities, spice?

Bored with their bland Mexican food by day three, I ordered a chicken entree at The Point. Everyone else at my table gushed over their shrimp concoctions while I bit into my chicken all santos. Succulent breast meat stuffed with spinach, cheese and almonds and wrapped in bacon melted in my mouth. How ironic to admit poultry was my favorite meal on the coast.

I did enjoy a similar entree at Lily's across the street–stuffed flounder, minus the bacon. Sides were broccoli and rice. Both restaurants advertised their use of purified water in all food preparation. Dining with our young daughters, we played it safe and only ate in those establishments. Kid's menus were nonexistent. Prices were high ($9-$14 per entree), food was generic, but nobody got sick.

So, Lily's or The Point?
Menus were fairly similar. As far as service went, Lily's won hands down. Our waiter promptly brought us chips and salsa while we perused the menu, quickly replenished margaritas, beers or lemonades, and brought us our food in half the time it took at The Point. Prices here were less expensive, and the bathroom sanitary and clean! We sat upstairs quite comfortably on the covered porch in this bright pink building facing the sea.

Across the street, a wooden boardwalk leads to a orange structure cantilevered over the ocean. Inside The Point diners can sit inside or outside on a wide covered porch on the second level. Views of crashing surf and brown pelicans are great. Just be prepared for a chilling wind, and a wait. Lunches both days took two hours each. Our waiter brought us one small basket of chips to serve six people, and never bothered to refill them or our drinks. He only had three tables, yet took forever to take our order, bring us our check...I won't elaborate on the disgusting toilet that hadn't been flushed in days. Apparently a lot of people used the sole basin during impatient waits.

Next door, the Fish Market restaurant buzzed with activity, and plenty of people were eating in snazzed up versions of street-side taco stands. Next time I'd venture out of my safety box, especially now that I've learned there's a book Gringos Guide to Rocky Point to consult. Just maybe I'll get lucky and find an equivalent to Obregon's El Contijo. One can always hope.

Halfway between Rocky Point and the Arizona border lies a vast volcanic field of over 400 cinder cones created from fiery eruptions 2,000 to 1,000,000 years ago. Magma still roils deep below dormant volcanoes and cooled lava slopes in this moon-like landscape of sunken craters, jagged rocks, spatter cones and lava tubes.

Gnarly half-dead desert plants add an eerie, otherworldly feel to the surroundings. Across the 600 square mile Picante, vegetation changes as plants thrive or die depending on the moisture content of composite soils. Few species survive the sandy plains at low elevations like creosotebush does. Driving across the arid core of the Sonoran desert we couldn't help but notice the low-lying creosotebushes lining the sandy road as we bumped along toward the Cerro Colorado crater. Perfectly spaced, they looked like green landscaped shrubs bordering someone's narrow driveway.

Soft mounds of thick sand suddenly clogged our speed, redirecting our attention to our vehicle which we quickly floored to keep momentum. A guide at the park entrance had warned us about the roads, which are not signed, maintained or monitored. All are sand, volcanic ash or cinder, and only a few are passable with a two-wheel drive. If you get stuck, good luck. It's a remote place with few visitors. Those who do venture here are expected to bring their own shovels and auto parts should breakdowns occur. No fear here, we were driving a van! And I'm sure we could scrounge up our daughter's plastic sand shovels should the need arise...

Creosotes gave way to chollas. Their dark scraggly trunks branching upward–some void of prickly tops–looked rather creepy contrasted against the light sand and shadowy mountains in the background. Skies were gloomy and gray, and the air tasted dusty.

Twenty minutes later we reached Cerro Colorado, one of nine giant "maar" volcanoes that draws volcanologists here to study their perplexing origin. Formed by violent steam explosions, rather than a fiery fountain, the crater rim has a ring of rock carved into older lava rock which is topped by tuff, or compressed volcanic ash. Scientists are trying to determine why these cinder cone eruptions changed into steam explosions. We stood on the tuff and peered in. Hiking down into the craters is not allowed as the biosphere is highly protected.

Heading toward another crater, the sandy road changed to cinder. Fine black cinder covered the soil which supports palo verde, ocotillo, senita and saguaro plant life. Rainfall is sparse, maybe five inches a year, but cinder soil retains moisture well. We came across a jumbled mass of black rocks and stopped to explore the massive lava flow wall.

Ill-prepared to hike lava rocks in walking sandals, I cautiously followed Scott's lead but climbed a gentler slope up the rubble. The surface texture felt extremely rough, porous and sharp against my skin. And sandals! The rubbery soles gave way to the rocks, shredding bit by bit. Later that night, I sadly realized it was time to retire the sandals that had endured the Inca Trail, the Routeburn, ten years of hiking...

I couldn't tell if the lava was old or young, but it certainly matched the description of what's called "aa" lava, a crusty mass of jagged rocks that date from younger flows. I didn't see any "pahoehoe," the other type of lava at Picante which is smooth, swirly and resembles fudge frosting. Instead the lava felt like pointy limestone, it's surface covered in tiny bubbles that had splattered and froze in flash time.

Back down on cinder soil, I wandered around the cactus filled terrain. An organ pipe, a mass of prickly arms that resembled jumbled arms and legs interlocked in Twister, dwarfed my daughter. And nearby, a large bird, judging from the size of the nest, had built a home in the arms of a saguaro.

We drove onward to Elegante crater, another giant maar volcano. The winds picked up as we walked up to the rim. The impressive crater was impossible to capture on film even with a wide angle lens. We followed a trail along the rim and passed a worn cross dedicated to the memory of Father Kino, a Jesuit priest who visited the hardy Pinacatenos inhabitants back in 1698 and climbed Pinacate Peak twice during his stay.

According to historical records, the Pinacatenos, lived in this volcanic field for 7,000 years. They lived through volcanic eruptions but met their demise in 1890 when an organized posse attacked them on the Camino del Diablo. Archeological artifacts indicate that an earlier hunter-gatherer group, known as the San Dieguitos, lived here for 12,000 years. They left stone tools, sleeping circles, petroglyph-like geometric figures called intaglios, and trail shrines behind when they fled from a severe drought. These traces are visible to the public, but we did not get to see any of them as they are located on routes that necessitate rugged four-wheel drives. Next time...

Teddybear chollas, limber bushes and spindly ocotillos lined the rim trail around Elegante. As we made our way back toward our van we heard the distinctive high-pitched warning shake of a rattler. My four-year-old jumped into daddy's arms and clung to his neck while the rest of us inched closer toward the hissing noise. There he was!

Coiled under a limber bush, the Arizona black stared at us from behind scraggly branches with beady gold eyes. His rattler was a blur. I had never seen a rattlesnake in the wild. When I bent down to see if I could take a photo, my daughter cried out, "Mama, don't let him strike you!" But we stayed a safe distance away and just watched him. He looked more afraid of us and never made a move.

Winding back to the park entrance, it began to rain. Rain! Big drops plopped against our windshield, then developed into a steady horizontal stream for a good thirty minutes. Some parts of the Picante hadn't seen rain in seven years, and we hurried through the desert, wary of what water would do to the sand. There was definite risk of encountering impassable roads. We could easily get stuck in muck. An intense smell filled the air. Burning rubber. Now what had we done to the van?

Scott laughed. Nothing. The burning rubber smell was coming from the creosotebush. We were experiencing something rather rare. The distinctive desert odor--wet creosotebush--is produced only when it rains.

 

To get here: The main entry point for cars is the southeast entrance located 32 miles southwest of the border town Lukeville, off Route 8. A park ranger in the Centro Ecologico of Sonora building will provide maps and information about the region, including advice about which roads your vehicle can handle safely. Admission is $3. You must sign in and out of the park.