From the beach of Cabo San Lucas a line of tall rocks marches into the sea, acting as an exclamation point to a landscape of glaring sunlight, sharp heat, dry wind and reptilian colors. Years of patient surf have worn through one of the last rocks on the point, forming the natural arch that has become Cabo's logo.

By itself, Cabo's arch is not all that grand. But within it's framework it is one of those special features that seem draw people to a place. Reaching out from the end of the long, lonely desert of the Baja Peninsula, the arch stands as a gateway between the powerful Pacific Ocean and the almost mythical Sea of Cortez.

My first experience with the Baja Peninsula was through John Steinbeck's book, "The Log From the Sea Of Cortez." In 1940, about the same time Hitler's armies began invading Europe, Steinbeck and marine biologist Ed Ricketts (of "Cannery Row" fame) hired a fishing boat and sailed around the peninsula to study and collect tidepool animals.

While most of the Baja Peninsula probably has not changed much since the Steinbeck and Ricketts voyage, the Cabo area is a notable exception.

In 1940, Steinbeck and Rickett's boat was the only one anchored in the little harbor at Cabo. The town was a poor fishing village, with "two ruts in the dust" for a road, a small fish cannery, a pier with a light that shone only during the day, a few houses and a cantina.

In his book, Steinbeck talks about Cabo's lonely beach, inhabited only by pigs, vultures and dogs who battle for the remains left by fishermen.

Steinbeck's "Log From the Sea of Cortez" was published in 1941. In December of that year Japan bombed Pearl Harbor and the U.S. entered WWII.

Soon after the War ended, a few Hollywood stars, including John Wayne, Bing Crosby and Desi Arnez, discovered the Cabo area as a prime spot for marlin fishing and seclusion. Expensive hotels soon sprang up and thus, Cabo began a slow evolution towards it's present status.

Today, the little harbor at Cabo is full of sailboats, yachts and cruise ships. On the beach, between rows of umbrellas and lounge chairs, hotel employees rake the sand where not so long ago a pig and a vulture might have had a tug-of-war over a marlin tail. Paved roads lead to numerous hotels, resorts, restaurants, bars and shops. Golf and sport fishing are big draws. Scuba diving, kayaking, hiking, and aimless lounging around pools or the beach rate as primary activities.

Like many resort areas, Cabo's local culture seems to have fallen somewhat by the wayside. For a tourist from the United States, the experience of being in another country is very light, especially if staying at one of the larger hotels.

Also consistent with many other resort areas, it seems the locals in town assume all tourists from the United States are either drunk or just not drunk yet. No doubt there is very good reason for such assumptions, especially in the evening hours. Even in 1940, the poor fishing village Steinbeck visited had a cantina.

Of course, for tourists who do end up drinking too much, Cabo is the perfect place to sit on the beach, under the bright stars, and slur philosophic words about time and the universe.