The last time i paddled anything I was about 10 years old and it was a canoe at summer camp.Yet, suddenly — or so it seemed — I was tucked into the front of a bright red, two-person kayak, paddle in hand, an intimidating stretch of ocean in front of me.

Figuring it would be the perfect cure for the winter blues, I’d impulsively signed up for a nine-day kayaking trip on the Sea of Cortez — also known as the Gulf of California — on Mexico’s Baja California. Turned out I was right. Skimming through turquoise and indigo colored water, the sun shining, a warm breeze blowing, is one great way to chase away the winter doldrums.

From October through May, balmy weather — high 60s to high 80s, with water temperatures of 60 to 70 degrees — makes the islands and coastline on Baja’s Sea of Cortez an ideal kayaking spot.

Experienced kayakers and those familiar with Baja may want to arrange their own trips, but, for a novice like me, a guided trip, where the details are left to professionals, was definitely the way to go. I chose Paddling South, a small company that has been running kayaking trips in the area for more than 20 years. They assured me that all I’d be required to do was relax and paddle; they’d handle the rest.

The trip started in the town of Loreto, located on the lower half of Baja on the Sea of Cortez, and consisted of seven days of kayaking, with six nights spent camping out and two in a hotel. I was especially happy to learn that our kayaks would be of the stable fiberglass type suitable for ocean conditions and very different from tipsier whitewater river models. I was also relieved to hear that it would take some sort of major turbulence to upset them.

Most of the kayaks were doubles, so guides could pair up stronger and weaker paddlers to achieve a balanced pace and keep the group together. I was quite happy to have help, but for macho types who wanted to go it alone, there were a couple of single boats. We would be expected to paddle between two and five hours per day, covering approximately five to 10 miles a day, making for a relaxed pace. After all, this was a vacation, not a race.

The initial plan was to paddle to the uninhabited island of Isla Danzante, spend a couple of nights, and then paddle along the Baja coastline for the remainder of the trip. But as they say in Baja, everything related to kayaking ‘‘depende del viento’’ (depends on the wind). The area is prone to strong El Norte winds that cause rough seas and create difficult kayaking conditions. Though we had a route in mind, our itinerary remained flexible.

Before heading out to sea, we gathered on a “put in” beach where our guides explained safety procedures and ecological camping techniques, gave a brief paddling demonstration and issued life jackets. Then we started to pack up the kayaks.

Since there were no restaurants or grocery stores on the uninhabited island where we would be stopping, and since there would not be a motorpowered support boat accompanying us, our trip was categorized as “selfsufficient.” In other words, we would carry all of our gear and supplies with us in the kayaks.

We distributed the groceries, duffels, sleeping bags, jugs of fresh water and cooking equipment more or less evenly among the six kayaks and launched the boats. Then it was time to hop in and start paddling. Easier said than done. Thigh-deep in water, I plopped into the boat, bottom first, swinging my legs in after me. Graceful it wasn’t, but I managed it, partly because I’m fairly limber and partly because I have short legs.

Though I had been assured that no paddling experience was necessary for this trip, being active and having some upper body strength was a definite plus. About time those years of weight training paid off!

Once adrift, the dreamiest part of kayaking started. Something about the gentle movement of the kayak as it sliced through the calm, indigo water that lapped against the side, a balmy breeze kissing my face and seabirds hovering overhead, made my everyday problems seem light-years away. It was almost impossible not to relax.

After a few hours of unhurried paddling, we arrived at Isla Danzante, pulled the boats ashore and unpacked. Talk about culture shock of the positive kind. We had the island to ourselves — not counting the birds and other indigenous creatures.

Quiet was one of the most enchanting parts of camping on an uninhabited island in the middle of the ocean. Though there were tents for those averse to the possibility of sand and living things sharing their sleeping bags, I found sleeping under the stars with the sound of the ocean nearby to be wonderful. And, with no city noises to drown out the sounds of nature, in the morning we awoke to the songs of doves, gulls, hummingbirds and gnatcatchers filling the air.

Our guides were absolute wizards at producing tasty and varied meals using a camp stove, limited utensils and only the food we’d brought in the kayaks. The first night’s dinner was delicious vegetarian spaghetti and a freshly made cake cooked in a Dutch oven. The next day we bought some fresh grouper from local fishermen, which the guides grilled and rolled into tortillas, making the freshest of fish tacos. Leftover rice became rice pudding, and the guacamole tacos were to die for.

On our layover day on Isla Danzante we had a leisurely breakfast and then paddled to a sheltered cove for snorkeling and hiking. Inhabited by more than 600 known species of fish and scores of invertebrates, the Sea of Cortez is a snorkeler’s paradise. Schools of brightly colored tropical fish — yellow and blue sergeant major fish and orange-tailed grouper — scurried by my mask. Masters of camouflage, the scorpion fish were almost indistinguishable from the barnacle-encrusted rocks where they hid. Bright red starfish and spiky sea urchins clung to the rocky ledges, while, at the shoreline, orange polkadotted Sally-lightfoot crabs scampered over rocks. Tidal pools were alive with mysterious tiny organisms, and fast-moving shells housed shy hermit crabs, that would happily invade your sleeping bag if given the chance.

One day, we gave each other avocado facials and then rushed into the calm, refreshing ocean to wash off the goo. Another, we paddled by craggy islotes (tiny bird-nesting islands) hoping to catch a peek of a blue-footed booby, a red-eyed oystercatcher or some nesting ospreys. Then — all too soon it seemed to me — it was time to pack up and paddle back to the mainland to begin the coastal part of our trip.

The second leg of the journey held different surprises, one of the nicest of which was the chance to get a feel for Baja and its people. A short walk from one campsite, we waded across a sand spit to a tiny island with a mineral hot spring. After a relaxing soak in this natural hot tub, we hiked to a local ranch to have a meal at the family’s outdoor restaurant. Mexican stew, rice and beans were accompanied by homemade tortillas hot off the comal — a cast-iron plate for baking tortillas and roasting peppers. Seeing the family’s home and walking around the ranch gave us an insight into the people and culture of rural Baja.

On our final paddling day we camped near the fishing village of Agua Verde on a green water bay. We wandered into town and watched weathered fishermen haul in their catch and visited a rural school where too-cute local children rattled off their lessons in lilting Spanish.

Early the next morning we took off on a sunrise paddle. One last chance to enjoy the solitude, hear the waves lapping against the boat and listen to the seabirds trilling in the breeze. As we pulled our kayaks out of the water onto the beach, I realized I’d barely thought about my everyday problems for the entire blissful week. So what if I’d had to resort to an occasional ibuprofen to ease my muscle aches at the end of the day? The last time I’d had such a carefree vacation was when I was 10 years old at summer camp.