Living in San Carlos: Why We Stay

People come to San Carlos for all sorts of reasons. For some, it is the Sea of Cortez and everything that comes with it: fishing, boating, diving and days spent on or near the water. Others are looking for sunshine and an escape from northern winters. Some discover San Carlos almost by accident, while others have been coming here with their families for generations.

Those things help explain why people come. They do not entirely explain why so many stay.

Tom and I came to San Carlos somewhat differently from many of the people we have met over the years. When we left Canada, we did not keep a home to return to. We sold our quarter section outside Calgary, our house and everything in it, the tractors and the horses, and arrived in San Carlos with a pickup truck, a trailer and a dog. For us, the decision had already been made. We came here to make a home.

For many others, that sense of home develops more gradually. A winter becomes several winters. A few months each year become five or six. Friendships develop, routines become established, and somewhere along the way something changes. San Carlos is no longer simply the place they come to escape the cold or enjoy a different way of life. It has become another home, and for some, eventually, simply home.

After living here for many years and watching people arrive and put down roots, I have come to believe that one of the most important reasons is the richness of the social life. San Carlos makes it remarkably easy to meet people, particularly through shared interests. Fishing and diving have always brought people together here. So have snorkeling, boating, golf, pickleball, cycling, art, cards and any number of other activities. You do not necessarily have to arrive knowing anyone. You simply have to find something you enjoy doing.

Perhaps part of the reason friendships form so readily is that so many of us arrived here knowing relatively few people. In the places we came from, our lives were often already established. We had families, work, neighbours and friendships that had developed over many years. Social circles were naturally settled. Here, many of us began again, at least socially, and that created an openness to meeting other people. Someone welcomed us when we were new, and in time we learned to do the same for someone else.

There is also a long tradition of hospitality in San Carlos. It was part of the expatriate community long before Tom and I arrived. The original Yacht Club, for example, required each member to take a Friday and prepare a meal for the membership. I cannot imagine that requirement receiving quite the same enthusiasm today, but it says something rather wonderful about how the organization began. Membership did not simply mean joining. It meant participating.

The Monday Night Club grew from a similar spirit. During the season, members take turns hosting a Monday evening cocktail gathering. Everyone brings an appetizer and the host provides the bar. It is simple, informal and social, which is probably why the tradition has endured.

Beyond the organized groups, however, entertaining one another at home is simply part of life here. There is no schedule and certainly no obligation. Someone invites eight or ten people for dinner, another person does the same a few weeks later, and occasionally somebody decides to have a crowd. San Carlos has some wonderful cooks, and over the years we have enjoyed some extraordinary evenings around other people's tables.

The food is certainly part of the pleasure, but the table is really about something else. It is where people who met through fishing, golf, art or some other shared interest get to know one another beyond the activity that first brought them together. Friends introduce friends. Social circles overlap. New people are included.

There is room at the table for another person.

I think that simple idea captures something quite special about San Carlos. There is an openness here that can be difficult to describe to someone who has not experienced it. It does not mean everyone knows everyone, nor does it mean that every newcomer immediately acquires a dozen close friends. Relationships take time wherever you live. But there are opportunities to make those relationships, and people tend to be remarkably receptive to them.

Over time, those friendships become about much more than dinners and shared interests. When life becomes difficult, as it inevitably does from time to time, you discover just how deep those relationships have grown. The people with whom you have shared the good times are often the same people who quietly offer to help when you need them.

Perhaps that is ultimately why so many people stay. The sunshine matters. The Sea of Cortez matters. The extraordinary landscape and the lifestyle we enjoy here certainly matter. They may be what first captures someone's imagination and brings them to San Carlos.

But eventually something else happens. You stop thinking primarily about the reasons you came and begin thinking about the life you have built. Your friends are here. Your routines are here. There are people who know you and people you know you can count on. What began as a place to spend the winter, or perhaps simply somewhere new to explore, has become something much harder to leave.

Tom and I arrived all those years ago intending to make San Carlos our home. For many people, that realization comes more slowly.

Either way, the roots take.

And there is still room at the table for another person.

Photo credit: Alfonso “RADA” Vásquez