One balmy evening at Cabo San Lucas, Baja California Sur, I found myself perched on the sea wall, waiting for the moon’s rise. It was roughly between 9:30 and 10:15 pm when my gaze was drawn to the western hills behind the town. Emerging from there was a peculiar glowing shape — bell-like and large, adorned with an aura or haze that blurred its edges. Its color shifted subtly between yellow and reddish-orange hues, casting an enigmatic light against the darkening sky.
Unlike an ordinary aircraft, this object moved with a grace and mystery that defied explanation. There were no blinking lights, no familiar aviation signals. Instead, it climbed higher than any plane should, lingering in the atmosphere as if defying the laws that govern our skies. At one point, it resembled a satellite launch, steady and bright, yet it never left the lower atmosphere, remaining visible to the naked eye even as it grew distant.
The object traveled silently from west to east, its colors glowing softly through approximately 20 to 25 minutes of observation. Eventually, it shrank into a tiny, star-like point, slipping beyond the horizon until it vanished from sight.
This eerie, unearthly spectacle etched itself deeply into my memory — a mystery veiled in the night, reminding me of the unknown that still dances just beyond our grasp.