bajaandy
Senior Nomad
Posts: 769
Registered: 2-7-2004
Location: North County
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Mood: Adventurous
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Trip Report : El Rosario Festival
Grab a chair and get ready for a long read! (You might want to just print it out for easier reading! HA!)
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El Rosario Festival, Baja California. July 21-25, 2005
DAY 1, Thursday
On the morning of a full moon, Stasi and I packed the red truck with last minute stuff, kenneled up the dogs and took off to pick up John and Lisa for
their first trip to central Baja. We get to their house at about 9:00, and see that the traffic on the 15 southbound is slammed. J & L only have
a couple of bags and a cooler and some food, so it doesn?t take long to pack up and get on the road. In no time we?re doing the I-15 shuffle, but
soon the traffic lets up and we?re making good time. Figuring that fuel prices are cheaper in Mexico, I forego the usual stop at the Chevron before
crossing. We make a quick stop before we cross the border to look for some swim fins for John. (No. There is no Walmart on San Isidro Blvd!) And
then like a fresh churro into the grease we slip across the border into Mexico.
Before we know it, we?re sailing down the toll road past Rosarito towards Ensenada. The vibe is good in the truck, and everyone is excited for the
upcoming vacation and chance to relax and reconnect in El Rosario. In fact, we?re having such a good time, I don?t even bother to get off the road at
all to stop for fuel, figuring that we can make Ensenada and fuel up there. ?No problemo?, I think, ?I?ve got a quarter tank of gas?. At about the
big view over the bay near the turn off to Salsipudes, the fuel bell rings. No problem? we?ve got a few gallons left and can make it into town.
(Can?t we?) We do, but the total number of liters pumped is about 108. How much does that tank hold again?
At the Pemex, the attendant pulls the old ?give the p-nche gringo the wrong change? routine. Oops? must have misplaced that decimal point. Ten
dollars in change has magically become one dollar. John catches it in a heartbeat and calls him on it. The attendant consults his calculator and
confers with the older attendant and the correct change somehow appears. We beeline it through town and stop at my favorite taqaria, ?El Pique? on
the south side of Ensenada. It doesn?t take long to plow through quite a few Carne Asada and Adobada tacos and we?re all feeling fat and happy as we
jump back in the truck and head south.
The drive south from Ensenada is routine. Traffic is a breeze and soon we?re passing all the little towns along the way: Santo Tomas, San Vicente,
Colonet, Camalu, Vicente Guerrero. Between San Vicente and Colonet we decide to stop in at the vineyard in hopes that we can purchase a bottle if
vino. Turns out that the very healthy vineyard is only that? a vineyard. No winery in sight. A worker tells John that this is only the processing
plant. Oh well. Nice looking grapes anyway! At San Quintin, we make a sweet stop. John pops into the Bimbo store and brings out a couple of treats
to snack on. Within the hour we are atop the mesa just before El Rosario and we are quickly waved through the military checkpoint towards our
destination.
With the drop into El Rosario, it feels like we?re on the final approach to begin our extended weekend vacation. ?Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your
captain speaking. Please make sure your chairs are reclined and that your cervesa is cold and in an upright position. Enjoy your stay at El
Rosario.?
Little did we know that we were landing at our own private resort in a sleepy little Mexican village that was about to transport us to a place where
culture and tradition would capture our hearts and minds as we relaxed and forgot all about the cares and concerns of our stateside existence.
As we pulled into the driveway of the Baja Cactus Motel, it was evident that improvements had been made, and that it was an ongoing project. New
stone pillars graced the entrance of the drive, and the workers were still laying the stones to pave the sidewalk. We pulled in, parked and got out
to stretch our muscles after the six hour drive. As I climbed the steps to the office, my friend Antonio Munoz, the owner and great grandson of the
original proprietor of the motel, greeted me. We embraced and said our hellos, and introductions were made all around.
Upon seeing that our group was smaller than had been expected, Antonio was able to provide the four of us with an exceptionally nice room, airy and
light, with open beam ceilings and two massive king size beds. A beautiful tile and stone bathroom completed the suite, but the best part was the
pair of French doors that opened to a small lanai that overlooked the hotel and the courtyard below. We would find ourselves spending quite a bit of
time on the lanai, either breakfasting in the morning, or enjoying a sip (or two or three) of tequila or wine in the afternoon. In short, the room
was fantastic, and we loved it.
We unpacked and met our afternoon concierge, Manuel. He informed us that he would be on duty from 4:00 to midnight, and that if we needed anything,
we had only to ask.
After unpacking, we decided that we wanted to see the beach. We drove to the corner, stopped at the first Tienda to pick up a six pack of Tecat?, and
wound our way down through the valley to the beach, passing fields of crops and cattle and horses along the way. It was about 6:00 in the afternoon
when we got there, and there wasn?t much surf to speak of, so the girls got out and strolled down the beach while John and I aired down the tires to
improve flotation on the sand. We drove to the north end of the beach and spent a little time beach combing. I was beaming as I watched Stasi, Lisa
and John picking up ?treasures? along the beach. This was a small part of what makes Baja such a special place to me, and it warmed my heart to share
it with my loved ones.
The wind was up, and it was a bit cold, so we soon high tailed back via the south road. Along the way, we spied a road leading off to Punta Baja to
the south. A look at the map showed it to be only a short way so we used the rest of the afternoon sun to check it out. The point was home to one of
the largest and best looking fish camps that I have yet seen in Baja. Many Pangas lined up, waiting to be launched the next day. We made our way to
the very end of the point, where a lighthouse stood. John immediately climbed to the top and yelled down for me to take his picture. The girls
contented themselves with tide pooling along the waters edge.
We eventually wound our way back into town in time to clean up a bit and head over to Mama Espinoza?s for dinner. While waiting for our dinner, we
learned that John?s command of the Spanish language was not as vast as I, at least, had assumed. He asked the young waitress for another order of
chips and salsa. It seems that the proper word for chips in Spanish is Totopos. John had called them Topes. The waitress questioned him saying
?Mande?? while another of the patrons spoke up and corrected him. Any of us that have driven in Baja knows that Topes is the word for speed bump. So
of course the rest of the weekend was spent asking John if he wanted bumps with his salsa. (This event may have been one of the reasons that John
felt compelled to change his name for the rest of the weekend, as you shall soon see.) Dinner was great, and since the restaurant was right next
door, it was an easy stroll back to the hotel and up to our room for a well-deserved rest.
DAY 2, Friday
It?s about 5:30 in the morning when we are gently roused from our slumber by the sound of a truck applying it?s Jake-break as it passes the hotel.
P-nch? cami?nero!
The temperature is very moderate. The night passes cooler than any of us had expected. In the morning there is a bit of drizzle, not really rain,
but enough to wet the dirt and make everything feel less dusty. We?re up, and decide to turn the day into a two-part event. The opening ceremony for
the festival is scheduled for 2:00, so we figure we can get in a little geo-caching and then do the opening ceremony and finish up at the beach. I
convince everybody that we?ll be back from geo-caching by noon, so forget the lunch stuff and don?t bother to bring your swimsuits. (A mistake I?ll
later regret.)
After a quick breakfast in the room we?re in the truck and filling up at the Pemex next to the hotel. A brief explanation of geo-caching ensues, and
the next thing you know John is my navigator. The gals in the back seat just giggle at us techno geeks in the front. Our first cache is called the
Cordon Cache, and is located in the boulder fields near Catavina. It?s about 75 miles south, through some of the really intersting desert of Baja.
Soon we?re seeing the Cirio trees and the Cardon cactus. My traveling companions are oooing and ahhhing as we make our way south. After about an
hour or so, we reach the coordinates for the cache. We look and look and look, but never find the cache. (I find out later that the cache had been
sacked some time back, and is now only a ?virtual? cache.) We finally give up and decide that we?ll try for the next one. It?s only about 25 miles
away (so say?s the GPS.) so we start out after it.
Eventually I figure out that this other cache must be on the road to Gonzaga Bay, but by this time we?re getting near half tank on fuel. I remember
reading that the Pemex was up and running in Gonzaga Bay, but only on an on and off basis. I go ahead and make the call to follow the GPS and dash
off down the dirt road towards the bay, via Coco?s Corner. The desert is hot. (It is the middle of July after all.) But there are still blooms on
many of the cactus, and the elephant trees are beautiful shades of pink and coral. We get to the point of no return (half tank) and I just keep
going. We finally get near the coords for the new cache and we look and look, and finally I pick up a zip-loc baggie that Stasi had seen but
dismissed as trash. It turns out to have the Geo-Cache form letter in it. Apparently this is the last thing left from a well-stocked cache. Just
goes to show you that no matter how far you go , someone else is bound to go there too. We assume that some needy soul found the bucket that the
cache was in and needed it (for whatever purpose) more than we did. Oh well.
Did I mention that it?s HOT?! Back in the truck and blast the AC all the way to Gonzaga Bay. We get there and sure enough the Pemex is up and
running and they have fuel. We fill up and buzz down the road to Alfonsina?s resort for some fish tacos and cervesa. The gulf looks gorgeous. Now
we?re all wishing that we would have had those swim suits!
Not a lot of activity at Alfonsina?s, but we?re served right away and the food is good and the beer is cold. We?re done with our meal when the
proprietor asks us if we?re ready to leave. In fact, he?s kind of pushing us to get out the door. We thought that was kind of funny, until he says
that the tide is coming up and that if we don?t leave now, it?ll be a few hours until we can! ?Check it!? he says, pointing to his eyes and then the
parking lot. Sure enough, the water is coming up fast, and we have to pay the bill in a hurry and scramble into the truck to get going. We drive
over a few driveways to avoid as much of the incoming tide as possible, and eventually get back to the main road past the Pemex.
On the drive home we are once again discussing the various trees and cactus of the peninsula. John is making phallic reference to the Cardon?s and
somehow along the way he announces that he will now be referred to as ?Don Cardon?. (That?s D?n Cardon.) The name somehow seems to fit, and it
sticks. D?n Cardon it is.
A couple of hours later we get back to the Baja Cactus hotel. It?s almost 4:00 and we?ve missed the opening ceremony for the festival. We pull into
the parking lot and Antonio is there to greet us again. ?Where have you been?? he asks. ?Gonzaga Bay?, I tell him. His eyes go wide in
astonishment. ?All the way to the gulf! Wow!? ?Where will you go tomorrow? Bahia de Los Angles?? he asks in jest.
We go up to the room, open the French doors, turn on the ceiling fan and relax in the quiet of the afternoon. There is some activity going on at the
hotel office, with Antonio and his family sitting at the front steps laughing and talking as they greet the guests that are beginning to arrive. We
move to the lanai and soon D?n Cardon gets the bottle of Don Fulano Tequila from the ice chest that Jim S. had given to me before we left on this
trip. Jim and Christa were scheduled to have been here with us, but an up-coming vacation and a busy work schedule forced a last minute cancellation.
We break the seal on the bottle and pour the first shot. ?Here?s to you Jim!?
The tequila goes down smooth?.it?s an excellent flavor with a smooth taste and a peppery finish. One shot leads to another, and even the girls decide
to have a taste. We sit on the lanai sipping our tequila and snacking on cheese and crackers. It feels so good to be here basking in the glow of the
afternoon sun, sipping a good tequila, listening to the sounds of the little town as it prepares to celebrate it?s 231st Birthday.
In the cool of the evening, we head out for a walk into town to check on the progress of the preparations for the fiesta. As we walk through town,
there is activity everywhere we look. People are walking, driving, riding bicycles, and riding horses. The stores seem busy. We stop off at a small
tienda for some snacks, and the proprietor strikes up a conversation with D?n Cardon. It turns out the owner used to live in Escondido and even
played on a softball team there. The owner goes on to tell about his time in San Diego, and brings out a picture of himself at a Padres game. There is
a policeman in the store, and soon we are introduced to him as a cousin of the owner. He explains that almost everyone in this town is somehow related
to one another. We make our purchase of snacks and soldoditos, thank him and we are on our way again.
In the middle of town, across the street from the Police station and the public park, a large party tent is being set up on the basketball courts near
the baseball field. The party tent is enormous, and it is clear that this is where they will hold the dances and other events for the next three
nights. The baseball outfield itself is now temporary home to a mini carnival, including rides for the kids, a haunted house, and of course, the
churros stand. Along a wall between the party tent and the carnival, local vendors are setting up their booths and taco stands. We?re early, and
nothing has yet been prepared, so we move along back up to the street and make our way back towards the hotel.
Along the way we stop off at a panadaria, where D?n Cardon picks up a snack of some pan dulce. A bit further along I stop at the Tecat? cerveseria
for two large bottles of Tecat?.
We make our way back to the room where we soon find ourselves on the lanai again. Only this time we?re drinking Tecat?, and soon the bottle of wine
is opened for the ladies to have something to drink. It?s not long before a game of charades breaks out, and we?re laughing and having a wonderful
evening.
Eventually we decide that we?re too tipsy and too tired to go to the dance and carnival that night. We turn in and turn off the lights for a second
night of peaceful sleep. As I drift off, I silently wonder if we?ll get another Jake-break wake up call in the morning.
DAY 3, Saturday
Wow! I think we slept in ?til 6:30 this morning!
There is more activity now at the hotel. More guests have arrived in the night, and the parking lot is PACKED. We get up and open the French doors
and decide to breakfast there as we watch the comings and goings of the various guests. D?n Cardon volunteers to go and get some fresh tortillas for
breakfast. It?s a good hour before he returns. He?s been on a 3 mile run. We make breakfast burritos of eggs and cheese and they taste wonderful.
David K. has arrived in the night. He and Elizabeth have the room across the small courtyard from us. We say our hellos and introductions from patio
to patio. David intends to lead a drive to the Cardonal today. Because we had such a long drive the day before, we beg off and plan our own
activities for the day.
First we decide that we will visit the mission sites and the museum in the morning. We take a few goodies along with us and head out towards the
first mission site, only about a mile away. Of course I manage to miss the turn off, and instead take us up a dead end street where some workers are
busy sorting aggregate and other materials. We back track and find the right road and it?s only a few yards before we are there. Not much left of
the first mission of El Rosario. Only a few badly eroded adobe mounds remain. Hard to imagine what it must have been like in it?s heyday.
We walk the site and then load back up to visit the other mission site. Along the way we pass the museum, so we stop in to check it out. This is
probably the most interesting stop of the day. It?s an old building that has been restored and looks a lot like an old school house. It?s filled
with all sorts of odd stuff and memorabilia from days gone by. From town documents to pictures of long gone residents, from old machines and tools to
an old panga, from preserved insects to beautiful quinceneres gowns and religious robes, there seems to be a bit of everything. We wander through the
eclectic assortment and soon find ourselves out on the front steps again. What a journey back in time.
Just down the road from the museum is the second mission site. It?s not in much better condition than the first one, but at least there is still one
wall standing with an arched opening through it. It is the same wall that Antonio has chosen to use as basis for the logo for this weekend?s
festival. We walk the path around the site and take pictures along the way. It?s a good thing that I?ve brought along the book about the Baja
missions that my mom had given me so that at least we know a little something about them. All of the signs at the site are printed in Spanish, and
only a bit of it is getting through the translation.
Across the street is the cemetery. Everybody (except me) wants to go walk through. I park the truck out front and we hop out to take a walk amongst
the dead and gone. It?s interesting to see all of the names on the headstones and crosses. (Personally, I?m a bit creeped out about walking on top
of people?s graves. I don?t know why, I just think that it?s sort of an indignity to be stepping on them after they?re dead.) Many of the markers
are of the same family names that we just saw in the museum. I make a quick tour through and wait at the truck while D?n Cardon, Lisa and Stasi take
a few minutes more to wander around the place.
Back in the truck and it?s still early, so we decide to take the short drive out to La Lobera. I?d seen pictures of the place, and it looked
interesting. Besides, it was only 6 miles north of town on the main highway to the dirt road turn off. How long could it take?
After missing the turn off and going all the way back to the point where the highway parallels the ocean again, we take a little track that leads down
to the sea near some enormous sand dunes. It?s a good little road that leads down a small arroyo to the beach. Only the beach is all cobbles, but
beautiful, none the less. We get out and walk around looking for treasures for a while before loading back up to head for our intended destination.
I decide to try to take dirt roads to get to La Lobera (even though Lisa had seen the correct dirt road leading off from the highway a ways back). We
pick our way along the bluffs and eventually the road peters out at a high bluff about a mile or two away from the actual La Lobera site. We can even
see it in the binoculars, only the road doesn?t seem to get there from here. We decide to check out the bluff that we?re on and see that some
fishermen with girly laughter are just finishing up. We poke around for a bit and then hop back in the truck yet again to try to get to La Lobera.
Sure enough, there is another road that leads up and over the hills that connects up with the Grade ?A? dirt highway that leads to La Lobera. Along
the way we come across a Mexican family out in the middle of nowhere enjoying a little picnic. We ask them if they know where the road to La Lobera
is, and they sort of point and say ?Maybe that one?.
Finally we arrive at the fabled La Lobera, a giant hole in the ground that opens to a huge underwater cave in which sea lions take refuge. It truly
is a spectacular sight. (And appears to be a nasty drop if you don?t watch your step!) There are quite a few cars here, all with Mexico plates. No
gringos here except for us. And low and behold, who should drive up but the same Mexican family that we had passed while they were enjoying their
picnic!
We oooh and ahhh at the place for while, watching the few sea lions in the water as they splash and play, but by this time its after lunch time and my
passengers are beginning to get a bit cranky. Back to the truck and a quick jaunt back to the highway and soon we?re stuffing our faces with peanut
butter and jelly sandwiches back at the hotel.
The food does the trick, and the next thing you know, we?re all catching a few zzzz?s. I wake just long enough to see Lisa and D?n Cardon asleep on
their bed. Stasi is sleeping next to me.
After the hour or so power nap, we form a plan for the rest of the afternoon. There?s a jaripeo (rodeo) scheduled for 4:00. We figure that ought to
be a cool thing to see, so we decide to head off across the river valley to check it out. But first things first: a few sips of Don Fulano Tequila on
the lanai before we leave. The next thing we know, the bottle is empty. Time to go!
Being the gringos that we are, we leave the hotel at about 3:45 to make the five minute drive to the rodeo location. This just illustrates the fact
that although I?ve spent quite a bit of time in Baja, it?s painfully obvious that we simply don?t understand the concept of Mexican time: i.e. just
because something says that the event starts at 4:00 does not mean that it actually will start then. So? we get to the rodeo site well before
anything is really going on. In fact, we get there so early, we are able to pull up right to the corral next to a few other local vehicles, all of
which are right up against the corral, and most of which are pick up trucks that have been backed in. We think it?s kind of cool to be so close to
the collection of horses and bulls nervously milling around in the corral.
We are soon to learn that this parking arrangement serves two purposes: One, there are no bleachers or seats, so everyone just jumps up into the back
of their truck to get a good view of the event. Two, by parking right up against the corral, the vehicles actually form a part of the structure of the
corral, preventing the corral fence from being knocked over by the bucking and charging of the wild broncos and bulls.
This second fact is proved to us when a wild bronco (ridden by a very brave caballero) comes crashing into the fence not twenty feet away from where
we are parked. The subsequent impact splinters the wood of the corral, and sends spectators in the truck parked in that particular spot flying in all
directions to avoid being hit by the horse, the fence or the (by this point) out of control cowboy. The bronco charges back across the corral, the
cowboy somehow hanging on, and plows headlong into the fence again on the other side of the arena. This time the cowboy goes down, hard. He manages
to make it to his feet, only to have his legs fail him as he collapses to the ground, out like a light. The other caballeros get the horse out of the
arena, as a group of men hovers around the fallen rider, one of them waving his hat to give him air. A minute or two passes and he?s up (with a lot
of support) and being escorted out of the arena to the roar and applause of the crowd.
About this time (just as we are noticing that the doors of the ambulance that had arrived earlier are now open and obviously doing business), another
of the caballeros comes out of nowhere with a scrap piece of plywood to patch up the corral. The show must go on!
And so it does, for at least an hour or two as we watch not only the show, but also the crowd around us. This is truly a family event. Children are
everywhere, from the smallest of bambinos to teenagers and young adults out on the prowl, circling the event on their horses looking to impress one
another with their riding skills and looks. A young man with his son in his arms stands in the small space in front of our truck to watch the show,
and the boy soon falls asleep over his father?s shoulder. D?n Cardon takes his picture.
And as if watching the show and the crowd was not entertainment enough, there is a group of Mariachis wandering amongst the crowd. Food and cervesa is
being sold. Soon the Mariachis are near us, and they stay to play a few songs for the price of twenty pesos. D?n Cardon takes off to find the ba?o,
and after a while he returns with two ears of corn fresh from the pot, covered with butter and cheese and chili powder. He and I stand in front of
the truck eating the corn, becoming a spectacle in our own way to the groups of locals watching us. We?re not quite as entertaining as the obviously
skilled vaquero and his dancing horse, who wow?s the crowd between riders as his horse seems to keep perfect time with the music.
Eventually the show begins to wind down. We wait for an opening in the cars parked behind us and pull out into the stream of cars heading back into
town. Everyone agrees that this has by far been the highlight of the trip.
Back at the hotel again we decide to check out the happenings in the town that night. There is a beauty pageant scheduled to take place at the party
tent. Having now learned the concept of Mexican time, we choose to wait until well after the 8:00 scheduled start time to head into town. Around
9:00 we walk down and around the corner, making our way towards the festivities. The town is abuzz with activity. We go past the party tent and see
that indeed the pageant has yet to begin.
Making our way to the carnival, the sights, sounds and scents fill our senses. First stop: fresh made carne asada tacos, one each for Lisa, Stasi and
I. D?n Cardon has his sights set on the Churro Stand, and that becomes our second stop. As we wander the carnival, D?n Cardon notices that the same
young man who had been at the jaripeo with his sleepy young son is there in line waiting for churros. D?n Cardon explains to him that he had taken a
picture of the two of them earlier, and could he get the man?s address so that he could later send him the picture. Quickly the address is written
down with promises to send the photo after we get home and print it.
Eventually we make our way back to the party tent, and by now there is much activity inside. One of the other Baja Nomads, Cyndarouh, is there and
catches my arm as I pass. She says it is really loud inside, and that there are few tables available, as most of them have been reserved for the
pageant. We peak inside and decide that we?ll leave this particular party to the others. D?n Cardon sneaks a peak through one of the flaps of the
party tent and takes a quick picture. It?s about 10:30 so we decide to head back up to the main street to wander back towards the hotel. We crawl
into the sack and sleep well yet again.
DAY 4, SUNDAY
Ahhhh Sunday, the day of rest. Stasi and I wake at our normal early hour, and decide to get out of bed and go for a walk. The town is quiet in this
early morning hour, with only a few people up and around, some obviously heading to work even though it?s Sunday. We make our way town past the
tienda at the corner and decide to head west towards the coast via the river valley. As we walk, we pass immaculate fields of onions, chilies and
corn. We pass a house and notice that there is a small dog on the roof. As we pass we see yet another one on the other side of the roof. Are they
hiding from the other dogs on the ground? Did someone decide to play a practical joke? The world may never know.
We walk down into the river valley itself and turn to head back towards town. Oops, I guess we should have brought along our sun glasses! As we make
our way back, we notice more and more trash along the bed of the river. It?s hard to tell, but it looks like quite a few people dump their trash
here. The smell starts to get bad, but we quickly pass whatever had the malodorous quality and continue on. Not far from town Stasi spies a treasure
and picks it up. It?s a tin sign for ?Tia Rosa?s ?. A cool find that will look nice hanging on a wall somewhere.
An hour or so later, we?re back in the room and decide to have a bit of breakfast. D?n Cordon and Lisa are up, and they join us. As we are sitting
yet again on the lanai, Antonio walks past below and calls up a good morning. He invites us to join him and his fellow guests for a special breakfast
given in honor of we Baja Nomads who have come to celebrate this festival with he, his family and his town. We accept the invitation and thank him
once again for being such a gracious host.
One part of this trip has yet to be explained: From the very start, almost all of my Baja trips have in some way revolved around the sport of surfing.
That being the case, it should make perfect sense that this trip would be no different. In fact, for the past three days now three surfboards had
been strapped to the truck in the hopes that at some point we might stumble across a place to stop and surf. The gas station attendant at Rancho
Grande near Gonzaga Bay assured us that there were no olas (waves) to be had in the gulf. And although we had indeed seen quite a bit of the coast
line near La Lobera and even out to Punta Baja and La Bocana, I had yet to see anyplace that piqued my surfing interest.
Today, we decided, would be a beach day.
But not until breakfast was done.
Antonio had said that we would all meet somewhere around the hotel to have our special breakfast around 10:00. Mexican time being what it is, we were
glad that we had eaten a small breakfast in the room earlier in the morning.
By 11:00 a group of Baja Nomads was assembled in the lobby of the hotel office. Tables had been set and we all had a place. There were many of the
Baja Nomad regulars there; Doug (BajaNomad) and his family (including Nicolita), David K and Elizabeth, SquareCircle, Mexico Ted and his crew and of
course, yours truly, Bajandy with Stasi, D?n Cordon and Lisa. In all there were at least 20 of us treated to a special breakfast given by Antonio and
his lovely wife and family. Bistec de res was the main course, served with fresh tortillas, pan, salsa, refried beans and drinks. It was a wonderful
meal. Antonio made a special address to us, thanking us for coming to his town to help celebrate this special occasion. We in turn gave him a round
of applause for being the most gracious host in all of Baja.
After breakfast, we all stood together for a group picture on the steps of the hotel lobby.
Let?s hit the beach! Off we go, headed out towards Punta Baja and points south. Lisa wants to get a quick picture in a panga, so we head back to the
fish camp. While we are there, a fisherman shows off his catch to D?n Cardon and Lisa, while Stasi and I soak up the scenery from the base of the
lighthouse. In the distance to the south I can see the whitewater of waves breaking and point it out to Stasi. I make a note to try to check it out
later.
We spend a little more time on the point, checking out some tide pools and filling the empty Don Fulano bottle with tiny stones from the beach. It?s
a beautiful bottle, and we decide to give it back to Jim as a remembrance of the trip and the tequila.
Back on the road again I tell the group I want to try to find that break that I had seen from the point. We take a less traveled dirt track that
leads south and follow it until it crosses an arroyo. Once in the bottom of the arroyo, I follow it down towards the sea. The track becomes less and
less distinct, and eventually it peters out right at the water?s edge.
There in the distance is a perfect right hand break, pealing across the shallow bottom for hundreds of yards. We?ve found our spot.
Out comes the beach stuff: the chairs, the beach blanket, the sun shade, the cooler and food, and of course, the surfboards. D?n Cardon and I suit up
and soon we are paddeling out over a shallow, rocky reef. There is quite a bit of kelp, and it makes for an interesting paddle out. It?s even more
interesting when you?re cruising down the line on your surfboard and the fin catches on a piece of kelp. Almost knocked me off my board a couple of
times!
The water feels so good. It?s cool, but not frigid like I had suspected it would be. I make my way further and further north, into the peak where
the wave is breaking. It?s a dangerous little place, with shallow rocks and a couple of big rocks sticking up out of the water right in front of the
take off zone. But the surf is only about waist high, and not too powerful, so I?m not really concerned.
A set comes and I turn and paddle for one. I feel the wave catch me, so I drop in, set the rail and I?m trimming down the line. And I?m going and
going and going?.. It?s not big, but it just peals forever and I?m having a blast. I surf right up to where D?n Cardon is catching a few on the
inside and we laugh as I kick out and start the long paddle back to the outside. I hear a hoot and look back over my shoulder at him as I see him
standing up, taking the wave almost all the way in to the beach. I smile and keep stroking out to the line up.
After a while I notice that a Mexican and his children have come out from the little shack that I had seen back up the arroyo a ways. They are
sitting on the point watching us surf. I can see the girls lying on the beach, soaking up the sun. D?n Cardon is catching wave after wave. I smile
as I sit on my board, content and happy as a clam.
After more than an hour, I find that the sets are getting fewer and fewer. I catch the last one and surf it all the way in. Up on the beach D?n
Cardon is sitting in the shade, drinking cervesa and eating chips. (Totopos, not topes.) I join him there and we watch the ocean for a while.
D?n Cardon and Lisa decide to take a walk and Stasi and I do a little tide pooling in the outgoing tide. I think the low tide is what shut down the
surf. Stasi finds a sea slug. And the rock shelf exposed by the low tide is covered with sea snails. Thousands of them. A few anemones, but not
much else.
In a little while we see D?n Cardon and Lisa heading back our way. They get back and we all sit around chatting. It?s getting late in the afternoon,
and the D?n and I put away our surfboards and gear. We?d like to have a fire on the beach, but I had forgotten to put in any matches or a lighter in
the truck, so the idea seems futile.
But D?n Cardon is not to be so easily dismayed. He asks me what I think the chances of lighting a paper napkin with the cigarette lighter from the
truck are. "Slim to none", I reply.
In a couple of minutes, he?s built up a pile of tinder and has the lighter pushed in, paper napkin in hand. Yeah right, I think.
The next thing I know, I see flames leaping up from the pile of tinder. Son of a b-tch.
?D?n Cardon,? I say ?If ever I?m a survivor on a deserted island, I want you on my team!?
We throw a couple of dead agave leaves on the fire to keep it going and head off up the arroyo to hunt for some firewood.
A few minutes later, we have a small pile of brush stacked on the beach, complete with three or four large, dead agaves to burn. The girls, who have
been tide pooling this whole time wonder what the hell all the brush is for. In a flash we have the burning embers into the shovel and down to the
beach. A few pieces of tinder and an agave and we have a full-on campfire on the beach.
We get all the other stuff packed away, except for the blanket, chairs and cooler and we sit around the fire, watching the tide as it begins to turn
and come back in. After the second agave goes into the flames, Stasi notices a scorpion has immerged from the agave and is walking up the beach.
It?s just a little guy, with little tiny pincers, which Stasi informs us means that it?s one of the more poisonous varieties. I scoop him up on the
shovel and move him off to a safer distance.
The agaves burn hot, and the fire feels good. We sit and talk and watch the sea while the embers burn down. It?s getting to be just about sundown
when we decide to let the fire burn out and head back for the hotel. The drive back through the desert in the late afternoon is beautiful, and it
feels relaxing and reassuring to come over the hill and see the town of El Rosario in the distance. This has become our home for the weekend and we
are comfortable here.
Back at the hotel, we decide to stay in for the evening, even though there is to be yet another dance and fiesta at the party tent tonight. Some bean
burritos and quesadillas for dinner, and we are all content to climb into bed.
DAY 5, Monday
Up early, we plan to make a 6:00 departure. D?n Cardon has a meeting back home at 3:00 this afternoon, and we don?t want to be in too much of a rush
at the border. We quickly load up our last minute things and go to the lobby to pay our bill. Manuel, our afternoon concierge is there at the lobby
and is ready to help us. Unfortunately, Antonio is no where to be seen. I hope that he is asleep somewhere, knowing that he has had little (if any)
sleep these past few days. I am saddened that I will be leaving without saying thank you and farewell to him, but I know that he will understand.
We hop in the truck and soon are headed north. The towns seem to fly buy. In no time we are in Colonet, and everyone is hungry. I know a little
caf? there that serves good chiliquiles, and we stop for breakfast. Stasi and Lisa and I each order the chiliquiles, while D?n Cardon orders eggs.
Breakfast is good, and we reflect on the trip while we eat.
Back on the road again, we make good time and soon are passing the vineyards and coming into San Vicente. Someone spies a tortillaria and we stop to
get some fresh tortillas. Just a couple of doors up is a panadaria, and I pop in to see if they have any bollios. They do, and they are fresh from
the oven, still piping hot. I buy half a dozen thinking how much Mom would like these! I go and meet the group back at the tortilla factory. They
finish up their transaction and as we are leaving, Lisa spies an ice cream vendors cart. She wants a picture. She stands behind the cart like she?s
the vendor. Stasi does the same and D?n Cardon gets pictures of them both. What a hoot!
We beeline it for points north. In no time we?re through Ensenada and on the toll road again. An hour or so bring us to Tiajuana. Uh Oh. MAJOR
traffic. Looks like it might be a long border wait. I snake through town, making my way towards the border overpass and see that the police are
re-directing traffic, as they sometimes do, back through town. Great. But wait! They?re letting car pools go through! We get to the officer and he
waves us through. We zip up and over the onramp to the borderline and get all the way up to the vendors before we slow to a stop. Wow! What luck.
Just then the fuel bell rings. I know there?s plenty of fuel to get across the border, but just for fun I make a big deal about hoping not to run out
of fuel right here in the line. Stasi does not appreciate my humor.
As we slowly creep ever nearer the checkpoint, D?n Cardon is in and out of the truck, buying things from the vendors. Off to the churro stand for a
couple of bags of tasty treats. I play the game of calling him over to sell me churros and he won?t haggle with me. Next he?s out of the truck to
get something else. Can?t remember what this time, but apparently he?s been good entertainment for the people in the car just a couple of vehicles
back. They joke about watching him getting in and out as we move along.
Soon we?re there at the checkpoint. ?State your citizenship please? demands the young border agent. ?Are you bringing back any pharmaceuticals??
We all answer correctly as he checks the back of the truck. Apparently we don?t fit the description of a smuggler, and we?re waved back into the U.S.
He never even asked to see my I.D.
We buzz up I-805 and take the offramp for Auto Parkway, the one that goes out Coor?s amphitheater, to stop for fuel at the Shell station. There?s a
line of people backed out onto the road, and we make our way up towards the pump. A guy tries to cut the line from the other side and slip into the
pump I?m pulling up to. I don?t let it happen, and the guy gets peeED! Holy cow! Burning his tires he slams his little truck in reverse and moves
to cut someone else off at another pump. He gets out of his truck and fires off some foul language in my direction as he goes in to pay for his fuel.
More foul language follows when comes back out. But there?s not much of a repartee. It?s pretty obvious that this guy doesn?t have enough brain
cells to realize that I beat him out of doing exactly what he wanted to do to me. All the guy can do is cuss and call us stupid American?s in a big
truck. Lisa say?s she thinks he has big red truck envy. ?Welcome back to the states?, I think.
In just a few short minutes we?re back at John and Lisa?s house. It seems like it?s all over way too soon. Can?t we just stay down there a little
while longer? But then, each time I go to Baja, I feel the same way.
This trip was, and will remain special in so many ways. From the cultural experiences to the dirt roads, from the food to the scenery, it is a trip to
remember. To have such close friends spend time in a place where the culture demands that you must slow down, and to stay at a place where the
hospitality makes you feel like you?re at your own home, can only etch deeply into ones heart and mind. Viva Baja.
[Edited on 8-1-2005 by bajaandy]
[Edited on 8-2-2005 by bajaandy]
[Edited on 8-2-2005 by bajaandy]
[Edited on 8-3-2005 by bajaandy]
[Edited on 8-4-2005 by bajaandy]
subvert the dominant paradigm
"If you travel with a man, you must either fall out with him or make him your good friend."
JBL Noel
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bajalou
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 4459
Registered: 3-11-2004
Location: South of the broder
Member Is Offline
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Great report, Bajaandy, sounds like a wonderful weekend. Thanks for the story.
No Bad Days
\"Never argue with an idiot. People watching may not be able to tell the difference\"
\"The trouble with doing nothing is - how do I know when I\'m done?\"
Nomad Baja Interactive map
And in the San Felipe area - check out Valle Chico area |
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bajajudy
Elite Nomad
Posts: 6886
Registered: 10-4-2004
Location: San Jose del Cabo,BCS
Member Is Offline
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Excellent report!
Glad that you guys had such a great time.
There is always something for everyone here in Baja...sometimes the adventure starts on a lanai. Jet fuel....tequila! Ole!
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Bob H
Elite Nomad
Posts: 5867
Registered: 8-19-2003
Location: San Diego
Member Is Offline
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Andy, you lucky dog. You got there a day before us and stayed a day after we had to leave. Fantastic report. Loved every second of it. A great
weekend in El Rosario indeed. Many thanks and hats off the Antonio and his family.
Bob H
The SAME boiling water that softens the potato hardens the egg. It's about what you are made of NOT the circumstance.
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Baja Bernie
`Normal` Nomad Correspondent
Posts: 2962
Registered: 8-31-2003
Location: Sunset Beach
Member Is Offline
Mood: Just dancing through life
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Best report I have ever read---I was with you all of the way !
Gracias y mas topas!
My smidgen of a claim to fame is that I have had so many really good friends. By Bernie Swaim December 2007
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David K
Honored Nomad
Posts: 64540
Registered: 8-30-2002
Location: San Diego County
Member Is Offline
Mood: Have Baja Fever
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Awesome report for an awesome weekend trip Andy! I agree with Bernie, an award winner!
El Rosario... it isn't just a fuel stop, anymore!
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Nicholita
Special Correspondent
Posts: 21
Registered: 7-18-2005
Location: San Diego, CA
Member Is Offline
Mood: Great! 
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Awesome report! It was great meeting you, and hopefully we will meet again at another Baja Event! Best wishes, Nichole.
P.S. you should write a book! lol 
[Edited on 8-2-2005 by Nicholita]
-A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.
\"The secret of success, without hard work, is still a secret\" --Doug Means
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Keri
Super Nomad
Posts: 1393
Registered: 10-31-2002
Location: La Mision, Baja Norte
Member Is Offline
Mood: muy contento
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Fantastic. Thanks for taking me along with you . Enjoyed every minute, This is the kind of report I read this board for. k
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bajalou
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 4459
Registered: 3-11-2004
Location: South of the broder
Member Is Offline
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Great report Andy.
I had a geocache at Coco's but he told me a Mexican family found it. He told them it was American's stuff but they said "No, we found it, it's ours".
Haven't been back to replace it but one of these days.
No Bad Days
\"Never argue with an idiot. People watching may not be able to tell the difference\"
\"The trouble with doing nothing is - how do I know when I\'m done?\"
Nomad Baja Interactive map
And in the San Felipe area - check out Valle Chico area |
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bajaandy
Senior Nomad
Posts: 769
Registered: 2-7-2004
Location: North County
Member Is Offline
Mood: Adventurous
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Thanks for the kind words you guys (and gals). Of course I have a bunch of fotos that go along with this story, but I think it's so much better to
let your imagination fill in the pictures. (That, and the fact that I have ultra SLOW dial up! HA!)
Lou, that's kinda what I figure happens to most of the caches down that way. Finders keepers.
[Edited on 8-2-2005 by bajaandy]
subvert the dominant paradigm
"If you travel with a man, you must either fall out with him or make him your good friend."
JBL Noel
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bajalou
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 4459
Registered: 3-11-2004
Location: South of the broder
Member Is Offline
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If you get over by San Felipe, there's several here that you would probably enjoy.
No Bad Days
\"Never argue with an idiot. People watching may not be able to tell the difference\"
\"The trouble with doing nothing is - how do I know when I\'m done?\"
Nomad Baja Interactive map
And in the San Felipe area - check out Valle Chico area |
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bajaandy
Senior Nomad
Posts: 769
Registered: 2-7-2004
Location: North County
Member Is Offline
Mood: Adventurous
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Desert Rat,
I didn't make it to Diablo this year. (Climbed Mount Russell instead.) Perhaps a trip this fall or maybe next spring. That is definetly a climb I
want to do. I have yet to experience the mountains of Baja, and I want to get up there.
subvert the dominant paradigm
"If you travel with a man, you must either fall out with him or make him your good friend."
JBL Noel
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Bajagato
Nomad
Posts: 129
Registered: 4-19-2004
Location: Laguna Hills
Member Is Offline
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your trip report...
well I did as you suggested and printed your report. It was 6 pages! I couldn't believe it. But I have to tell you I read it, and really enjoyed it. I
too, felt like I was along for the adventure. It sounds like you were with amigos that "just went with the flow" and thats the best way to be in Baja.
I have only stopped for gas in El Rosario, so it was all new to me. I'd love to see the tide pools and the spot where you surfed. I am glad that your
wife remembered the name on the grave marker of our virtual geocache. Me and my hubby looked for one at Cocos back in March of 2003 but never found
it. After reading your report, I dreamt about El Rosario all night long. I guess your story really stuck with me. I would love to see the picture of
the man with the son on his shoulders!!! Thanks so much for sharing your entire trip with lots of fun details!
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Don Jorge
Senior Nomad
Posts: 639
Registered: 8-29-2003
Member Is Offline
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Thanks BajaAndy for the trip report! You brought back some old memories of waiting for waves on perfect looking points.
Post some pictures when you get a chance!
�And it never failed that during the dry years the people forgot about the rich years, and during the wet years they lost all memory of the dry
years. It was always that way.�― John Steinbeck
"All models are wrong, but some are useful." George E.P. Box
"Nature bats last." Doug "Hayduke" Peac-ck
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TacoFeliz
Nomad
Posts: 265
Registered: 7-22-2005
Location: Here
Member Is Offline
Mood: Exploratory
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Thanks for the great report. Seems almost like we were along with you. Cheers!
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