"You can only do what is within your reach."
Small daily actions over a lifetime can bring lasting change. Remembering Don Vic, friend and mentor to many.
It was before dawn and the pinks and purples had yet to breach the day and do their morning dance to welcome the sun. I snapped a few frames of the bustle of fishermen at the shoreline as Victor de la Toba maneuvered a rusty trailer with ease to drop a his panga into the estuary. I was hesitant, already weary from several weeks photographing fishermen, the types who are tired of journalists and environmentalists poking their noses in their livelihoods.
We pushed off and within minutes of crossing the lagoon, a grey whale blew out a salty breath of air within a few meters of the boat. It was the first time I had seen a whale, and because I was on this trip to document shark fisherman - and admittedly done very little research - I was surprised to see it. This Victor found hilarious, and his short bursting laugh punctuated the morning air between my own gasps of disbelief with every whale exhale, that only gave rise to more laughter from him. Little did I know that these whales, and this man would change the trajectory of my life and lead me to the woman I love and the place I now call home.
The rest of the journey was none the less eventful. Landing on Isla San Lazaro, we jumped into Victor’s pick-up an even rustier Toyota 4x4 with racing stripes and sea turtle stickers to cross through the sand dunes and then dash across the shoreline for nearly an hour. He stopped occasionally to collect samples from the remains of dead sea turtles that he would send off to scientists, or to show me the bones of some washed up animal. He pointed out a sunken ship, some coyotes that would later steal my shoes, and a bunch of sea lions.
We arrived at the lighthouse - a large white building that sat at the edge of a cliff. Here was Victor’s true home, where he had grown up, where his father was light house captain, and where he now kept watch.
The next morning he brought me to the fishing camp, and left me there in a plywood shelter he’d built. It was equipped with a barrel for water, and a dog named Buddy.
I spent weeks trying to befriend fishermen with limited success, I did however manage to send a message to the woman I was courting about the whales, which captivated her interest for days. I would hike to the highest place I could find each day and sit there for hours often in the dark to send her SMS messages with descriptions of the bay filled with blow holes.
Little did I know I was witnessing one of the most important whale migrations in the world. Nor did I know she would later become my wife, and that we would return to this place in a pilgrimage together.
I had to come back several times for the shark fishermen to finally befriend me. And I’ll get into that story later. But each trip was started with a journey with Victor. He would spend a few days with me, and when I would finish my adventure at the fishing camp, we would sit and talk for hours about fisheries and conservation, and his
life story.
Victor grew up in a way that was rare then, but now feels like it’s out of a novel. He lived on San Lazaro island when Baja California Sur was incredibly disconnected from the world, in a place that was disconnected from the Baja California peninsula. His family lived off the fruits of the ocean, and drank water from a well they dug in the sand dunes. He would cary water each day from there to the lighthouse to his family.
He told me stories about diving for sea turtles as a kid. How the older fishermen would slowly go blind from years of looking under water with no goggles or protective glass. How slowly he began to notice that the turtles were more scarce, and how that lead him to become concerned with the state of the natural world that was once brimming with life in Bahia Magdalena.
He told me stories about his wife Maricel, whom I met and became friends with as well. Later when my wife and I would visit them she would make fish and tortillas, and great salsas that would leave us with smiling faces and swollen bellies. Their love was something to be admired, and their care and connection with their environment was something that still inspires Meghan and I today.
Victor de la Toba Miranda, is one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. He was a modest man, whose riches lay not in possessions, but in his profound knowledge of the ocean and his deep love for his family. He had a quick wit and a half-cocked smile, and he loved to gently pick on the softer parts of me.
Victor taught me a lesson more valuable than any university degree: you don’t need a formal education to understand nature. All you have to do is pay attention. And he always paid attention.
I often feel an overwhelming urge to get away, far away, to where the roads end and the cell service drops. But the truth is, the signs of man are everywhere. We’ve cut our way through every forest, bled the land for her minerals. Every day, we see the landscape scarred more deeply by our greed, and it’s easy to feel paralyzed by the sheer scale of it all. But when it feels impossible, I think of Victor. I see him walking with his granddaughter, carefully showing her how to place a mangrove seed on its end to give it a better chance to take root. I see him leaving out a dish of water for the bees and insects, carefully covering it with an old fishing trap so the coyotes couldn’t steal their share. These small, deliberate actions, repeated over a lifetime, are what make him one of my great heroes. He was a fisherman and a lighthouse captain who paid attention. He was always cultivating, wherever he went. Because of him, there is a momentum - hand-sewn mangroves that now give shelter to countless sea creatures.
His presence will be felt in that landscape for generations. It’s up to us to keep his memory alive, but his impression has already been made, and he set so much good into motion. Victor once told me, “You can only do what is within your reach.” And so I try, to do the good where I can, and not to lose hope.
His life calls on all of us to do what he did. To watch closely. To do what we can, where we can. And to remember that a single, well-placed seed can take root.
Victor de la Toba Miranda, lovingly known as Don Vic, passed on September 23, 2025 surrounded by family and friends at his home in Puerto Adolfo Lopez Mateos, Baja California Sur, Mexico. He spent a lifetime dedicated to the conservation and study of the flora and fauna around the Bahía Magdalena and Cabo San Lazaro. He leaves behind a legacy that will continue for many years to come, and has inspired many people to lead a life in conservation. The lighthouse on Cabo San Lazaro will continue to be maintained by his wife Maricel and children, Xiomara Solimar y Vladimir.
Beautiful story! I'm so grateful full him.