Sonora. Desert chronicle

Once again the adventure knocks on my door; just imagining traveling through a place unknown to my eyes, emotion overwhelms me and adrenaline begins to emerge.

And the day arrives. Several months of very precise logistics are finally revealed; this time, more than 1500 miles from us, a desert of giants awaits us, just two hours from the city of Hermosillo, is the sacred territory of the Seris Indians, the Sonora desert.

We were a group, quite picturesque in my opinion; on the one hand our friends Toño, Jerónimo and Santiago, passionate lovers of good hunting, go in search of the mule deer and white cabbage, the wild boar of the desert and the king par excellence of the rocky mountains, the bighorn sheep. A species coveted by men, which instincts to overcome, look for on the lookout, through the mountains, walking since dawn day after day.

On the other hand, a group of people unknown to each other, but with a passion in common; Fly!

Armed with paramotors, we begin our journey at dawn, north of Hermosillo, until we touch the Sea of ​​Cortez, located just below the coast of Baja California.

Bordering the coast, we traveled more than 37 miles, entering the lands of the ancestors, where an indigenous community lives, which even today freely preserves its own system of government; the Seris... These Indians were the first settlers of these lands, for more than 500 years.

In these early times Seri territory extended from Guaymas Bay to about 75 miles north of Shark Island and inland almost as far as Hermosillo. Initially, it is estimated that there were more than 5,000 Seris inhabiting these arduous lands and due to the harshness of the desert, they had to travel long stretches of land in search of water. Living mainly by chasing animals, hunting birds, marine fauna, and collecting wild plants, they assumed a nomadic life, which took them throughout their extensive territory. Their existence was based on the survival of the fittest, and only the hardiest survived disease, starvation, and deprivation.

At present, the Seris, jealous of their lands and the secrets they keep, have been forced to settle in small communities near the coast, reducing to less than 700 members in total.

Despite the fact that development also knocked on their doors, the construction of an unwanted road and some attempts by the government to give them a "decent" home, translated into small unfinished concrete houses, the Seris, do not grant entry to any tourist curious about exploration, so for this reason, our trip became more interesting.

Our mission, to cross flying in a paramotor from the mainland, to Shark island, crossing through the Sea of ​​Cortez, habitat of giant mantas and great white sharks; fly over the largest island in Mexico and return.

For several years our hunting friends have forged a close relationship with the Seri and thanks to the acquisition of a hunting ranch and the dollars provided by the tourists, who buy permits, to obtain one of these magnificent pieces, we had assured access, but we had to extend it, to be able to unfurl our sails.

For two days, from 8 in the morning until sunset, we tried to fly from the beach, hoping that the cold wind, coming from the north, would abate and allow us to take off. Several attempts and endless hours of waiting seemed to have aroused the fury of the gods and denied permission for this purpose.

Finally, on the third day, a Seri family, made up of several children, two women, three men, and the  governor, came curious to see the flying devices.

Up close, they show the rudeness in their faces, the distrust towards us was evident, but due to the good relationship of the hosts, the atmosphere relaxed and after shaking hands, we invited them to get in one of the two-seaters. Flying they could enjoy their lands from the air, becoming birds, for a moment.

Fernando was designated for this task, his predisposition and talent would lead them to discover the greatness of the sky. The preparations for them were simple, just a vest, a helmet and a few instructions. Their worried faces before each takeoff were evident, their hands squeezed the bars tightly and nervous smiles escaped from their serious features; excited and impatient, the children flew first, the women followed by the men, and when they had all flown, it was the turn of the old governor. Every time one of them landed, happiness lit up their faces! this amazing experience had marked their lives forever; the feeling of joy and hallucination, was released through their gestures of emotion, jumps and pirouettes.

Finally, the moment of the maximum revelation arrived, for which the entire team, from the ground, waited impatiently, the final verdict of the governor. From a distance we watched as the two-seater paramotor crossed the coast, ascended towards the clouds and after several turns began to descend; preparing for landing, each one of us, ready to receive the honorable old man.

Finally the sky opened up and the sunbeams illuminated the passenger. A new face appeared under the helmet, happiness covered his face revealing a long life story, in a toothless smile. The governor had his meeting with the gods and in it, they agreed to our permission.

The next day, blessed and with full consent, we arrived back at the beach. The day was perfect, the sun was shining caressing the rocks, the morning dew still covered the giant cactus hounds and saguaros and an osprey, still sleepy, circled curiously around us.

Each one, in silence prepared their equipment for the great crossing; everyone ready and after a previous meeting to discuss the maneuver, one after another began the takeoff.

Finally there we were, in the middle of the Sea of ​​Cortez, crossing the Infiernillo Channel, with great emotion and respect, soaring through the skies, towards the great Shark Island.

The native language of the Seris is "Hokan".