RV Times Magazine - By RVers For RVer's About the RV Lifestyle

Going Places called Baja

In Baja the calendar becomes meaningless

- by Roy Geddes


When we were rolling down Interstate 5, and nearing the Mexican border, I commented, to no one in particular that I hoped the Mexican border would not be crowded. I hoped we would not have to spend half the morning in a line up, and then be thoroughly investigated by the Customs officials. The navigator said, "I always thought the Mexican border paid rent."

"Ha ha," I said," that's pretty funny! That's not a new joke you know."

Anyway a little Sunday morning humor never hurt anyone. This begins our Baja California Odyssey.

One hundred miles of water, more or less, divide the piece of land called Baja, or Lower California from the rest of Mexico. This body of water is known as the Gulf of California, although on some maps and to the natives of the area it is known as the Sea of Cortes for Herman Cortes, the conqueror of Mexico, who came to Baja hunting pearls in 1535.

By whatever name, the gulf has isolated Baja California since it tore free of the mainland over five million years ago along the San Andreas Fault System, which moves up the gulf into the other California to intimidate the citizens of that area today.

When one first looks at a map of the Baja, one gets the impression that it is all desert and beach. It's mostly desert and beach alright, but a spine of mountains runs down the center. The mountains feature the 6289 meter Diablo Picacho, the Devil's Peak, evidence they are not hills as some North Americans might think.

Another image that is conjured up in the minds of those who have not traveled here is that the place is inhabited with things, like bandits, diseases, rattlesnakes, and buzzards. This worries them.

In fact there aren't any bandits. Baja residents are, for the most part law-abiding and friendly. If one uses common sense, and takes the usual travel precautions there are no problems. However, if one flashes dough, and gets drunk in a strange bar there might be a problem - a problem that exists anywhere in the world.

Baja is basically a healthy place. Most of the water comes from deep wells, reducing the presence of pollutants to almost zero. As for rattlesnakes, travelers hardly ever see them. The biggest natural danger in the Baja is sunburn. There are buzzards, and they do look at you with a gleam in their eye, but they don't attack.

When we pulled into the Customs area behind three other RV's and were waved into Mexico, I was so surprised by the ease in which we crossed that I was making the turn onto the toll highway before I realized it. It happened so fast we did not have time to change our U.S. and Canadian money into Mexican pesos. Besides, it was Sunday and the money changers were all closed anyway, so U.S. dollars would have to be used until we found a place to convert them. As a matter of fact we didn't even have a close up view of Tijuana and did not even miss it. One hundred kilometres later we pulled into Ensenada. I was thinking about a campground and knew there were several so I wasn't in a hurry. Besides we wanted to spend a few hours in this delightful city soaking up a little culture and buying some food and cervasa.

As we wandered the city streets we were impressed by the sights and sounds. We found the fish market and had our first taste of a taco pescado (fish taco) with salsa, all for 75 cents. We couldn't resist picking up a kilo of giant shrimp before we left for our camp just south of the city.

Our first night in Mexico was spent at one of the best campgrounds we would see on the Baja. Estero Beach Resort had everything we wanted, including one of the best museums of Aztec and Mayan artifacts that I have seen anywhere outside of Mexico City. Here we cooked our shrimp and devoured our first Mexican seafood dinner, including a not-so-great bottle of Mexican wine. We went to bed early so we could get an early start in the morning.

Being anxious to get out of the big city we headed to the Mexican Immigration building in order to get our tourist cards stamped so we would be legal. We soon left the hustle and bustle of the city behind as we moved through the towns of Santo Tomas, San Vicente, and Colonet before stopping at Don Pepes RV Park & Restaurant in Colonia Viciente Gurrero.

Colonia Viciente Gurrero is a busy farming centre, founded by the Dominican priests more than 200 years ago. Today one can drive past a variety of rancheros, but tonight instead of a tour we would settle for a gourmet Mexican seafood dinner in the restaurant.

We didn't want to spend much time in northern Baja. We wanted to get south where good weather and beaches were waiting for us. Where the real Baja is.

Today would see us drive through San Quintin where we would linger on our way north, El Rosario, Catavina, and the impressive Catavina boulder fields. Today we would drive through an incredible desert landscape - a forest of Cacti, and cirio trees. The twisted cirio trees have been nicknamed 'boojums' because they resemble the creatures called boojums in Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. These trees are not found anywhere else in the world.

We would drive through an area with boulders as big as trucks. Boulders that seem to be out of place in the desert. They are also covered with graffiti in two languages. Evidence that some form of civilization has passed by?

Passing the 28th Parallel we entered Baja South, and another time zone. As we drove into the town of Guerrero Negro it was getting dark. As we didn't want to travel at night we pulled into Malarrimo Trailer Park, tied the RV up, and planned a tour of the town for the next day.

Guerrero Negro is a company town. It is renowned for having the world's largest evaporative salt works, and for a lagoon that annually becomes the mating and breeding ground of the California gray whales.

The breeding grounds in Scammons's Lagoon, about 18 kms from the town, has been designated a natural park - Parque Natural de Bellena Gris (Grey Whale Natural Park). The lagoon is named after the American whaler who discovered the lagoon in the 1850s. Each year, the whales migrate about 9600 kms from the Bering Sea to the lagoon where they stay from January to early March. During this period the place is alive with whale watchers, as well as whales.

After yesterday's long drive through the desert sharing the road with donkeys, mules, cows, crows, hawks, buzzards, and a few other humans, we were not in any hurry to get on the road. Now deep in manana land, we turned off the air conditioner and opened the windows to get fully immersed in the culture.

As we toured the town the next day we paid the man in the bakery three times more than he asked for when we bought a loaf of bread, three large buns, and some cookies. I thought 25 cents was not enough for what he offered.

Truly into manana land, we were relaxed, carefree, and had the attitude to match. Today would see us on the beaches of the Sea of Cortes.

First, we would stop in the pretty little town of St. Ignacio. A quiet town with an old mission, tucked amid hundreds of date palms is vintage Mexico.

After a pleasant lunch we pushed on to the coast and the town of Mulege with another mandatory mission. As we turned the corner and started down a hill we saw the sight that we came for. We had arrived at Playa Sanispac, with long white sand beaches, other RV's, shimmering water, warm sun, and cool breezes to please the eye. Pelicans, seagulls, and buzzards to provide the entertainment. What else would we need?

The next day the navigator S.K.A.D. (sometimes known as driver) was up early. As we were not moving for a couple of days she went for a pre breakfast walk with our neighbors who are full time RVers. I was lazy and sat watching a flock of pelicans who were just as lazy. I guess we watched one another. The beach was only ten steps away and we would all float on the bay when it got warm.

While I worked on my tan, several yachts came into our bay (our bay?) and parked. I think they would be unhappy with my term and would say "dropped anchor" nevertheless they were here. The campers from one of the ships came ashore to have lunch at the local restaurant and stopped to chat. They were from Duncan BC, and had been traveling these waters for two years, on the good ship Panda Bear. They did not know when they would head north. "We are playing it by ear," they said. The further south we go the more often I hear that phrase. Why, just the other day, or was it yesterday, we met a couple with an Airstream who were "playing it by ear." I think it is the weather that causes this syndrome. At any rate I plan to follow part of Albert Einsteins formula for success. You know A= Success and the formula A = X + Y + Z. Meaning: X is work - Y is play - Z is keep your mouth shut. For the rest of the trip Y and Z will be my plan. It will be hard to do, but someone has to do it.

Next morning we had to decide what to do. The RV wanted another day off, and so did the navigator. After a visit from their business agent it was agreed that we would swim, walk, and sit. We would also purchase some crafts from the beach vendors.

The vendors are natives of the State of Oaxaca (pronounced Wa-Ha-Ka). Oaxaca is south of Mexico City and these people come to Baja as farm workers. Farm workers are poorly paid so those who want to improve their standard of living make a variety of crafts for sale to the tourists. They all have pleasant personalities, are very friendly, and welcome my attempt to speak their language, even helping me with pronunciation. Nice people. The next day saw us on the road to La Paz, the City of Peace. Enroute we drifted through Loreto a pretty coastal city where we would stop on our way north.

Now we turn away from the Sea of Cortes, and head inland to the plains with its miles and miles of agriculture - miles of green - corn, citrus fruit, cattle, and goats. We had lunch in the city of Constitution, an oasis in the desert.

Ciudad Constitution, a major agricultural city has grown dramatically in the last few years. The reason for the growth is the immense underground pockets of water that were discovered and wells dug to tap into them. Cotton was a leading crop, but is being replaced by water efficient crops such as garbanzo beans, corn, and citrus fruit. Two hundred and fifteen kilometres later we were pulling into the El Cardon Trailer Park in La Paz, the capital of Baja south. Tonight it would not be early to bed, it would be dinner on the beach. Tomorrow would be another day.

No kilometres today. Today we would wander the city core and the myriad of shops that are everywhere. The navigator said. "I am only going to compare prices." I think she likes to look too. (She suffers from the shop till you drop syndrome.) We stopped for a late lunch and wondered why we were all alone in a fancy restaurant. The waiter explained, "It's siesta time, and the locals are all in their rest mode."

I also found that one cannot get lost in this city even if one turns onto a one way street the wrong way. The other drivers let you know where you are by loud horn blowing, shouting, and finger waving. For a short time I thought I was back in Canada.

Next day saw us again heading south through the mountains. Just south of La Paz we stopped for gas. It's always an experience stopping for gas in Baja. Sometimes they are closed, sometimes they do not have unleaded, but they are always interesting. In Ensenada the pump man asked where we were going.

When I said, "Guerro Negro," he understood and pointed the right road to take to get onto the highway.

Others are totally uninterested, others want to discuss the day. All are interested in getting a tip. We are out of the habit of paying for service at a gas station, but a few Pesos should be given to the pump man and we will not miss a few cents.

We were heading for San Jose Del Cabo until we stumbled onto the fishing, sail boarding town of La Brillos. The navigator said "We could go to the La Capilla RV Park."

I said, "We could if you would tell me where to turn."

She replied, "Turn at the sign that reads Hotel Leonadro - just watch for it."

Sure enough when we turned at the hotel sign another sign read La Capilla RV Park. We were the only overnighters. Others were full timers or six month'ers. They told me that marlin was the attraction. The horse and jack rabbits that lived in the park were also interesting as they wandered through this park in the palms.

As we got underway the next day we knew we would not be going far so we stopped in the town of San Antonio and paid a visit to their zoo. The zoo was home to many of the animal, and bird natives of the Baja. The exhibit was interesting although I am sure these creatures would be more content in their natural habitat instead of being confined in their small cages. Now we can say we have seen the coyote, fox, and bobcat that inhabit the area. We have also visited a town that has not been discovered by the tourist. As a result it is still rural Mexico.

Later we stopped to stretch our legs and have lunch at the spray painted symbol that marked the Tropic of Cancer. Then it was on to San Jose Del Cabo.

Our new home for a few days would be the Brisa del Mar Trailer Park. Again we camped on the beach. Again we were surrounded by the semi permanent residents from North America.

San Jose del Cabo is a city divided. On the one side are the resort hotel complexes. Massive hotel/condominium and time share developments have been built along a beautiful wide stretch of beach west of the old town. The old town is a quaint area with small streets, Spanish-style buildings and a tree shaded plaza. It is connected to the resort area by Blvd Antonio Mijares. The boulevard has been carefully manicured to impress the tourists who venture out of their hotels and into town.

As we awakened the next morning I exclaimed! "Well! Well! another crummy day on the beach."

The sun comes up early and our morning ritual is to make coffee, and sit out catching the morning rays, then relax until it is time to exercise. Today our exercise would be walk to the town.

On the first approach we wandered through the tourist section. Full of trinkets and souvenirs - some made in the U.S.A., some made in China, and some made in Mexico. Beyond the tourist area we come to a most attractive and cool spot - the town square. A most enjoyable area with Mexican style stores and places to eat. We stayed longer than we planned and walked home in the mid-day sun.

Kipling was right when he wrote about mad dogs and Englishmen. We should have stayed in the square for "siesta".

However we arrived at the RV wilted but in time for a cool one and a snooze before dinner, so all was not lost. As I said another crummy day on the beach?

On the road again. Today the goal is Cabo San Lucas - the sun and fun capital of Baja. The soon to be completed four lane highway will certainly speed the tourists on their way to the hotels and resort condos that dot the beach between the cities of San Jose and Cabo, and are in full evidence in Cabo.

The RV parks not only have all the hookups one needs, but they even have bars, restaurants and swimming pools that would make a fancy hotel green with envy.

Cabo San Lucas is not the town the old pirate Francis Drake saw when he was here in the late 16th century. Today it is full of pirates of another kind. Many come off the cruise ships and airplanes to barter with the natives for trinkets. Many come to fish, but it appears that the fishing is becoming less attractive as the fish are disappearing. One sign reads that the marlin will be extinct by the year 2000.

The hustle of Cabo today resembles the hustle on Honolulu's Wakiki beach in the early 1970's. Sightseeing, sunset cruises, time sharing salesmen, view lots, condos. You want it! You got it!

This was different Mexico, but we did not have to stay in the city. This is a nice part of traveling by RV - if you do not want to stay in a place you can move on.

However we were locked into a couple of days in the Vagabundos Del Mar RV Park so we would make the best of it. Once again met our new found friends, the Linders. We first met them at Colonal Vincent, again at Guerrero Negro, then at Playa Sanispac, then at La Paz and now here at Cabo. They are camped just north of the city and were scouting a place to spend Christmas. After a nice visit they returned to their camp at Todos Santos after convincing us to spend a few days with them.

The early sunset created hunger. The navigator had agreed to buy dinner at a restaurant of my choice. As my choice was uncertain, after 20 days on the road my decision making ability has slowed down. We walked the beach in Cabo until we found the "Office" a great seafood place. It was touristy, but after one of their giant margaritas and lobster dinners, Cabo began to look better. Places always look better at night when their frailties are hidden, and cannot be seen as they can be in the glare of the sun.

In the morning we did the tourist thing with the glass bottom boat, and a trip to Lands End, lovers beach, snorkeling, sun and sand all for US $5.00. By noon I was glad to leave Cabo with its buskers, hustlers, and time share salesmen.

We headed north, but not far. Sixty-four kilometres north of Cabo is another delightful campground called Los Cerritus. What we found there was paradise. Miles and miles of white sand and cool November wind. The quiet was only broken by the surf, the braying of the donkeys and the swish of the road runner that lives nearby. A few days here would restore my fractured view of Mexico, one that was conjured up by a visit to Cabo San Lucas.

To find the Mexico we had left behind in Las Paz and San Antonio, we paid a visit to the small town of Todos. Prior to 1985 this town was rarely visited by tourists. That year the paved highway was extended through to Cabo San Lucas. Since then tourists have arrived in ever increasing numbers.

Today, there is not much interest in the town, even though it is one of the first mission sites in Baja. Jesuit Segismundo Travel established a farm and supply depot here in 1724. The mission was abandoned in the early 1820's and was replaced with a church in 1840. Services are still held in it today.

Industry in the area was mostly sugar cane from the middle of the l9th century until the water supply disappeared in 1950. When the water reappeared in 1981 the townspeople began to grow abundant supplies of produce, particularly avocados and mangos.

Here we took long walks on the beach and long dips in the surf, or just sat in the sun and people watched.

Meals were usually Mexican, breakfast is huevas ranchero, (eggs with peppers, onions, and peppers wrapped in a tortilla). Dinner consisted of tacos and refried beans, avocado and salsa, washed down with a bottle of Tecate. The latter meal sometimes eaten sitting on a rock in a sheltered bay, watching the sun go down while a seal family plays nearby.

When it was time to head north, we did so reluctantly. Others were staying in the campground for the next two or three months. As we drove away we envied them.

What more would we see as we retraced our tracks to the American border? Once again we saw our favorite La Paz.

Once again we saw Mexican farm workers with their numerous children who would wave as be passed by. We saw the inevitable goats donkeys, horses, and cows that wandered the roadside. As we came over a rise in the road we passed a half ton truck with a load of goats. The truck had a flat tire and the look on the driver's face said, "Should I unload the damn goats, or try to change the tire with them onboard." I hoped he would make his decision before siesta.

Once again we drove slowly through the city of La Paz with the large statute of the doves of peace guarding its entrance and exit.

Soon we were rushing through Cuidad Constitution the agricultural center of Baja Sur. We stopped for a delightful lunch in Villa Insurgentes then pressed on through the Sierra de 1a Giganta mountains before descending to the Sea of Cortes and the former Capital, Loreto. Loreto is a busy town perched on the edge of the sea. It is all hustle and bustle. As we cruised the town looking for the best RV park we passed dozens of taco stands and restaurants. We found the best RV park and settled down.
We had passed a golf course just before we arrived in Loreto. As we passed I wondered if we should stay and play a game, but I thought not.

At 6:3O a.m. the navigator whispers in my ear. "Time to get up, we are going golfing."

I said "Oh! Where does it say that?"

She says "Right here in day 23 of the itinerary."

Well, one cannot argue with an itinerary, if it says golfing on day 23 then golfing it is. I leap out of bed, brush my teeth, quickly eat my Mexican breakfast of pancakes with maple syrup and head for the course.

As I am putting on my golf shoes I am told that we would need a caddie. As this flashed through my brain I thought I would have to sell the RV to pay the price. The navigator said. "Forty dollars for the round, and that includes the caddie, that won't break you, will it?"

"No" I said as we headed for the first tee with Juan our caddie.

A golf course that was at international standards, two golfers who were not, a caddie who was doubtful and not another golfer in sight.

After we had thrashed the course we spent a short time finding a bank, and a long time finding a tortilla bakery. After buying a dollar's worth of tortillas we headed north once again. Soon we found a campground on the beach of Playa Los Cocos. Then, and only then I got my much needed siesta. Next day we awakened early to watch the sun come up. As the orange ball moved over the horizon, the waveless sea began to shimmer and look silver. As the day progressed a wind came up and it was cool enough for long pants. At noon the sun reappeared and the snorkeling gear came out. There was little to see except small fish and seashells. The empty clam shells led me to believe there was a clam bed nearby. I lad been wanting clam chowder for some time and today was the day.

I pulled my snow shovel out of its storage place, and being a clam digger from another era soon had enough butter clams for our dinner. As we called it another day at Playa Los Cocos a bright sliver moon made the bay silver and the surf lulled us to sleep.

Another pink sky woke us up. As I headed for the door I could hear the pelicans and blue footed boobys fishing. For over an hour they put on a flying display that one would have to purchase tickets to see at home. Here it was free. After the air show there was more snorkeling, and more sitting in the sun.

"Tomorrow for sure."

Early next morning we said good-bye to our new friends and left Playa de la Cocos before breakfast. As we hustled through Mulege nothing was open so we settled on San Rosalia for our first meal of the day. After breakfast that included the best coffee I had tasted in Mexico, we headed out into the scrub brush and cacti forests of the Vizcaino Desert.

Just before we arrived in Guerrero Negro, where we would stop for the night, we met a van pulling a trailer stalled on the highway. We stopped to see if we could assist, and discovered they had a broken spring on their trailer. Fortunately they carried at spare so between us we got it installed and they were soon on their way south, and us north.

Guerrero Negro is not our favorite town so the next morning we were on the road early. All of us, the RV, the navigator, and the driver would like to see rain. However, today there would be none. Only miles and miles of desert. Desert with its huge rock formations, the occasional taco stand and one or two gas stations that may or may not have a supply of gas.

On we went to the town of San Quintin, a town on the Pacific Ocean that has a military base with a supermarket that sells to all public. We wanted to stay here but could not find an RV park that met our requirements so we continued on to Colonial Vincente and Don Pepe's park and restaurant. Manana would see us leave Mexico.

Onward to the U.S. border. We had decided to cross into the U.S. at Tecate, but first we would have to stop in Ensenada.

"Why stop?" I said.

The navigator said. "Because I still have 200,000 pesos and the banks at home are reluctant to convert them to Canadian. So I must spend them."

I was not completely convinced but went along with the sham. The next two hours were taken up walking the street of Ensenada looking for the right things.

When we finally arrived at the U.S. Customs in Tecate I was prepared for a long wait as they searched our RV for contraband, trinkets, tequila, Aztec carvings, blankets, (specially made by the Oxacan Indians you know) straw hats, and tee shirts. To say nothing of the Kalua and Tecate beer. Surprise! Surprise! The man simply waved us through. As I pulled into the United States and turned on to Highway 94 the navigator gave me "that look".

At the same time we all agreed we would come this way again.

Thus ended our Baja California Odyssey.

 

 

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