BajaNews
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Find a little bit of paradise on the road in Baja
http://www.rgj.com/article/20071118/LIV/711180309/Find-littl...
Nov. 17, 2007
by Kathleen Stebbins
First things first: Driving the length of the Baja peninsula isn't for the risk-averse. If you're the kind of traveler who depends on motel pools,
consistent cell phone coverage and half a dozen chain restaurants at every off-ramp, forget it. In fact, forget off-ramps, because Baja One is mostly
a two-lane, white-knuckle test of skill and will that bears no resemblance to the American interstate.
But ... if you travel to kick-start your life force or view the world afresh, and take basic safety precautions, a Baja road trip has a lot to offer:
brilliant coastal and desert vistas (sometimes simultaneously), food so emphatically delicious you won't believe it came from a dirt-floored roadside
stall, and friendly, colorful people.
The trip from Reno to La Paz takes four days, assuming stops for meals and brief sightseeing.
The first hour or two after crossing the border are the toughest: You'll have to get through Tijuana, where the poverty, crush and chaos can be
initially overwhelming. (The traffic is nuts. Pedestrians cross when and where they feel like it. We saw no less than three fender-benders in a
two-mile stretch, each attended by a dozen policia sporting AK-47s.)
Northern Baja is about 50 years behind the U.S. in litter tolerance -- the roadside trash is appalling (ever wonder where all those plastic
supermarket bags end up? They're stuck to Mexican cacti).
But things begin to improve around Ensenada ... and by the time you reach the countryside, Baja's charm begins to soothe your soul.
Uniformed school children with backpacks tromp the dusty frontage roads. Untethered dogs laze in the shade. Every other door is a taqueria, grocer or
other small vendor.
It's the third world, in some ways, but it's a nonetheless thrilling experience to feel the weight of American culture fall away, along with our
habitually manic pace.
There are no cookie-cutter subdivisions. No mega-malls. No fast food drive-thrus.
What you do see is people engaging with one another. Guys having breakfast at three-stool, makeshift diners. Young men playing soccer. Llanteras
mounting tires in open-air garages. Old women in windows or front patios, watching the world.
I soon felt completely at home in the moment, living life at the pace God intended, unconcerned with agendas or deadlines.
The greatest vacation, I learned, is the one that gets you out of your head.
The first night in Baja found us (me, my friend Chris and Captain Tom, who happens to be the guy Exxon assigned to pilot the wounded Exxon Valdez back
from Alaska) in El Rosario, about 200 miles from the border. On the north end of town is a little motel called the Baja Cactus, whose design and
amenities rival those in the U.S.
Every car in the parking lot sported U.S. plates and, usually, recreational equipment strapped to the top. We scored rooms for 400 pesos each -- $40
U.S.
Next door is Mama Espinosa's, a little joint that serves simple but deeply tasty meals likes camarones rancheros (shrimp, ranch style) along with the
best flour tortillas I've ever tasted: translucent, lightly stretchy crepes with a just-out-of-reach savoriness. Baja cuisine, unlike Mexican food in
the U.S., rarely features cheese, except in rellenos. Seafood and beef are the favored proteins, and vegetables were present in some form at every
meal. Surprisingly, given the spiciness of the food, none of us ever experienced indigestion, even after eating at the humblest roadside stands
(including one whose owner served us tamales on plates sheathed in clear plastic bags).
"Breakfast at 6:30," the guy at Mama Espinosa's register hollered as we headed out after dinner. We came back in the morning for excellent coffee,
fried eggs and bacon, huevos rancheros and more of those amazing tortillas. Mama was in the kitchen, occasionally poking her head out to chat with
customers in animated Spanish.
The road from El Rosario to Mulegé winds through moon-like high desert filled with mounds of giant boulders that look, as Chris put it, "like someone
sprinkled them out of a giant salt shaker." Spindly cactus-like plants called cirios resemble the skinny, tufted fantasy trees in Dr. Seuss books.
This middle stretch of Baja One crosses from the west coast to the east, and also covers vast, bleak stretches of desert. Eventually, just before
reaching the Tres Vigenes volcano, the road passes through the desert oasis of San Ignacio. It's worthwhile to turn off the highway to see the
palm-lined lake and enter the town square, which is shaded by huge trees. It's surrounded by small shops and the San Ignacio de Loyola mission,
founded by Jesuits in 1716.
Then it was on to Mulegé, well down the east coast of Baja. The humidity soared as we dropped from the mountains toward the sea. We pulled into Mulegé
proper just after dark. Unable to locate a campground we'd planned to stay at, we ended up in a charming one-bedroom cottage plus loft at The Orchard,
for $70 U.S. Just as I was remarking how nice the accommodations were, the power went out -- a common occurrence for those on the grid in Mexico (many
people use solar). The lights came back a few hours later, and in the meantime, we found a seafood restaurant in town with a generator and a
dependable blender.
The final leg of the drive, from Mulegé to La Paz, offered up dramatic views of verdant coastal mountains and islands, some of which rise almost
whimsically straight from the sea, followed by one last stretch of hot, empty desert. After three days of tiny towns and the open road, La Paz felt
positively cosmopolitan. A resort city of about 200,000 people, it offers shopping, hotels, plenty of al fresco dining, a clean public beach and
abundant nightlife (the city practically explodes into party mode as soon as the sun goes down).
Our ultimate destination was La Ventana, a small beach town 25 miles east of La Paz, beloved by windsurfers for its strong afternoon thermals. There
we would watch the sun rise in brilliant tropical fashion over the Sea of Cortez, comb long, deserted beaches for coral and shells, and sip margaritas
in the twilight.
But first, we went to an open-air restaurant called Rancho Viejo for arrocheras: cubes of grilled marinated beef served with tortillas with grilled
onion quarters, a creamy avocado dressing, shredded cabbage and several salsas. It is a heartbreakingly delicious dish, which -- paired with a couple
of Negra Modelos apiece -- provided the perfect reward for completing our long journey south.
-----------
Tips and advice:
# Before you go, read the U.S. State Department's travel advice sheet on Mexico at: http://travel.state.gov/travel/mexico.html
# Make sure your vehicle is in good working order and carry extra water and the appropriate equipment in case of a breakdown.
# Don't drive after dark, especially on the highway. The free-range cattle who hide under the desert scrub by day wander onto the still-warm roadways
at night. It's not a question of whether you'll hit one, but when. And the highway itself is tricky, with steep shoulders, dangerous curves and/or no
guardrails in many places.
# Should the driver ahead of you activate a left turn signal on an open stretch of highway, he/she is indicating the road ahead is clear if you intend
to pass. Long-haul truck drivers seem to be very conscientious about this. Obviously, in areas with potential cross-traffic, you should assume instead
that the driver may intend to turn left.
# In towns, pay close attention to traffic signals and other drivers. Signals and stop signs can be difficult to see, and most drivers will roll
through a stop sign unless there's some reason not to, like another car in the way. If you do get into an accident, Mexican authorities will take you
into custody until blame can be assigned and financial reparations made.
# Expect military checkpoints. Every couple hundred miles, you'll encounter armed Mexican soldiers who may or may not ask to search your car. If
requested, step out of your vehicle and be pleasant, but remain observant. Rumor has it some travelers carry extra cash for bribes (which are illegal
in Mexico). I don't know how pervasive attempts to extort cash from tourists are, but at one checkpoint a soldier did ask if he could have a pair of
binoculars. Chris told him no. That was the end of it.
# The expected restaurant tip is ten percent. Anything higher will get you pegged as a tourist showing off.
# Carry a standard first aid kit. Except in cities, the availability of medical care is unpredictable, which we learned late one night when Chris
suffered a severe allergic reaction to a probable insect sting in La Ventana. The nearest hospital was 25 miles away, Chris' airway was closing, and
we were without so much as a Benadryl. Fortunately, el medico at the La Ventana clinic was both available and willing to see us at 10 p.m. A shot of
steroids, breathing treatment, antihistamine and $14 U.S. later, Chris was recovering and we were on our way.
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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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| Quote: | On the north end of town is a little motel called the Baja Cactus, whose design and amenities rival those in the U.S.
Every car in the parking lot sported U.S. plates and, usually, recreational equipment strapped to the top. We scored rooms for 400 pesos each -- $40
U.S.
Next door is Mama Espinosa's, a little joint that serves simple but deeply tasty meals likes camarones rancheros (shrimp, ranch style) along with the
best flour tortillas I've ever tasted: translucent, lightly stretchy crepes with a just-out-of-reach savoriness. Baja cuisine, unlike Mexican food in
the U.S., rarely features cheese, except in rellenos. Seafood and beef are the favored proteins, and vegetables were present in some form at every
meal. Surprisingly, given the spiciness of the food, none of us ever experienced indigestion, even after eating at the humblest roadside stands
(including one whose owner served us tamales on plates sheathed in clear plastic bags).
"Breakfast at 6:30," the guy at Mama Espinosa's register hollered as we headed out after dinner. We came back in the morning for excellent coffee,
fried eggs and bacon, huevos rancheros and more of those amazing tortillas. Mama was in the kitchen, occasionally poking her head out to chat with
customers in animated Spanish. |
Isn't this interesting... in light of the recent comments about Mama's in the other thread?
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