The month of March – and my journey to Baja – started badly.

March 1^st – Day 1: I missed my flight.

This should not happen to a travel professional.

Especially since I was the tour leader for this small group. And especially since my husband and friend, Jill, trusted me – so they missed the flight, too.

I could blame it on traffic, but everyone in LA knows that’s a lame excuse. I could blame it on the rental car shuttle that didn’t appear for 20 minutes. But it’s on me. I didn’t allow enough time to get us checked in before the one-hour cutoff for international flights. So I’m purposely going public with this embarrassing admission.

No more missed flights for me. Never again!

Thankfully, I employ a couple of geniuses who had my back and quickly rerouted us on a connecting flight through Mexico City. Gabriel and Howard jumped into action without questioning me about what the hell happened.

Nor did Scott or Jill say a disparaging word about what happened. They silently and unquestioningly followed my lead as we first rushed to the Alaska Airlines Terminal in a vain attempt to catch their morning flight. Ultimately, we trudged through the parking structure to Terminal 2 and checked in for an AeroMexico routing that would get us to San Jose del Cabo at midnight. Only 12 hours later than we were supposed to.

One advantage to arriving after midnight to San Jose del Cabo was the absence of timeshare salesmen. But the delay meant that we spent our first night at the Airport Best Western instead of the beautiful ocean-view room that was reserved for us in Todos Santos.

I’m convinced that the excruciating back pain I suffered for the next 48 hours was punishment; my self-imposed penance for screwing up.

Day 2: A new day! We had arrived. The worst was over.

I ceased my relentless private chastisement. I doubled down on some prescription-strength Ibuprofin for my back pain. We were driven to Todos Santos and met our magnificent guide, Mauricio, who took us on a fascinating and informative walking tour of this historic town, founded in the 1700s. For lunch we devoured divine chile rellenos at Miguel’s, a local hangout. Margaritas – and a 90-minute massage at the stunning Los Calibros Casitas overlooking the Pacific – helped ease my back spasms. At dinnertime we took a cooking lesson with Chef Iker and learned to make Damaina Margaritas – which helped some more.

Day 3: The day of the whale sharks.

This would be the first of many extraordinary “wow” adventures we would enjoy during our week in southern Baja. Although this was my third whale shark adventure it was a first for everyone else in the group.

Our captain, a young guy named Jesús, had been piloting boats since he was a little boy and knew exactly where to find them in these shallow warm waters near a sandbar where the krill are plentiful. He knew how fast to go and exactly where to position his panga after spotting the giant shadow lurking just beneath the surface. At his signal I slipped from my perch on the side of his boat into the Sea of Cortez without creating a splash. I gasped as the chilly water filled the gaps in my ill-fitting wetsuit and, having forgotten to put the snorkel in my mouth, swallowed a big gulp of seawater. But as soon as I pressed my mask to the water, there he was, swimming placidly past me – the largest fish on planet Earth!

He was just a few feet away from me. With a couple of kicks of my fins I was moving at his pace, within arms’ reach of his tiny eyeball positioned at the side of his massive head. His dark grey body was sprinkled with white polkadots.

I have no idea how long we swam together before I remembered to check to see if the group was still behind me. As I bobbed to the surface, I noticed my group had not kept pace, so I pulled up and swam back to the boat.

Our second sighting was even more special, as this guy was surrounded by a school of Golden Tally fish. He was bigger and faster than the first. Scott had the GoPro camera, but he ended up toward the tail where the water was murkier and visibility not so good.

Back onboard the boat, Mauricio explained that the murkiness was caused by plankton – the food source for these giant creatures. On our third spotting, I was once again eyeball to eyeball with a whale shark – this one was probably 25 foot long. As he edged closer to me I arched my body to maintain some distance between us – having remembered Mauricio’s strict advice, “Do not touch the whale sharks,” as the oils from human contact can be harmful.

But he kept turning toward me. My heart beat faster as I awkwardly tried to swim sideways to avoid a collision – without thrashing my arms and accidently touching him. I ignored the sharp spasm in my back. My wetsuit kept me so buoyant that I couldn’t dive beneath him. He was oblivious to my presence.

Whale sharks are not aggressive – but his mouth was a lot wider than me (despite all the chips, guacamole and margaritas I’d consumed in the past 24 hours).

Finally he swept gracefully past – within inches of me as I watched in awe: his massive mouth at the front of his wide flat head, his beady eye, five large gill slits that sieve the plankton, his pectoral fin on the side of his huge polka-dotted torso and finally, his huge tail gently swishing back and forth, before disappearing into the murk.

Exhilarated and exhausted, I swam back to the boat ready for more awesome adventures with Captain Jesús and Mauricio.

We spotted schools of Snobby Dolphins, giving them that label because of their antisocial behavior. We saw manta rays launch into mid-air and land with a resounding “plop.” We saw soaring frigate birds, cormorants and Blue-footed Boobies. At our campsite on Candelera Beach on Espíritu Santo island we even spotted one of the newest bird species: the Yellow-Legged Drone Catchers, so named because of their aggressive territorial defense against Scott’s expensive drone-mounted camera! Fortunately, he’d been forewarned and didn’t lose the drone, though the birds – more commonly known as seagulls – were noticeably agitated until he piloted it closer to ground level.

Later that night, after a delicious dinner of fresh seabass (and tasty margaritas), we stood in wonderment looking up at the moonless night sky. The constellations were as bright as I had ever seen them. I’d always been disinterested in astronomy, but on this night I actually saw the arc that comprised Orion’s bow and the cluster of stars knows as the Seven Sisters.

Mauricio waded into the water and stirred up some bioluminescent plankton that sparkled like fireflies in the water as it gently lapped against the sandy shore.

This had been a very good day. We were free from worry, wifi and the frenzy of partisan politics. My back pain – gone. My self-admonition – gone. My screw-up – nothing more than a distant memory, replaced with ecstatic experiences with Mother Nature.

Holding hands on that desert island with my beloved husband, I was awe-struck with wonder. Life, indeed, is good. The only thing missing from this perfect day was a shooting star.

As if the Universe heard my request, as I walked back to my tent from the latrine at the end of the beach, reluctant to end this amazing day, I saw a brilliant white star streak across the night sky.

How could Day 4, and 5 and 6 possibly get any better than this?

. . . to be continued . . .

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I love and appreciate your comments – and for sharing this blog with intrepid travelers. I might offer this one again . . . let me know if you’re interested!

And watch for the next installment!