It was after midnight and my girlfriend and I were sleeping in our van on a deserted beach of Mexico's Baja Peninsula. Suddenly the blinding spotlights of two huge military transport trucks startled us awake. As I struggled to find my clothes and exit the vehicle angry voices called out in Spanish all around us. Blinking wide-eyed into the glare I could just make out a dozen soliders surrounding our vehicle, machine guns slung menacingly over their unifor med shoulders. After a few more seconds I noticed another solider manning an enormous anti-aircraft gun atop one of the trucks, which also towed a large mortar launcher. Oh...shit.
Now, I only speak survival Spanish and the soldiers spoke no English whatsoever.
They were clearly agitated to find us, a couple of gringos –- probably
American swine – sleeping on a lonely beach in the middle of the night,
and in their territory . The situation looked bad. I gulped hard, took
a deep breath and with the palms of my hands outstretched to show I was unarmed
I very slowly approached the ranking officer to begin probably the most important
hand signal conversation of my life. Eventually the military patrol departed
peacefully, but my girlfriend (who had been hiding under the covers throughout
the entire incident) and I were severely shaken. It was one hell of a rude awakening.
But we should have expected nothing less in the harsh Baja wilderness, where
life is cheap and the vultures are always circling, looking for their next meal.
When the United States ends at San Diego, California does not. Mexico' s Baja
California peninsula continues south for 1700 kilometers of sun-scorched desert
until the narrow highway comes to an en
d at Cabo San Lucas. Here the Sea of
Cortez meets the mighty Pacific Ocean in a spectacular rock arch known as "Land's
End". But let us forget the ugliness of Cabo San Lucas and it's hordes
of pale, flabby American tourists sunning themselves in multi-million dollar
resorts until they achieve the colour of boiled lobster. Fortunately 99.9% of
the Baja Peninsula is not occupied by obnoxious tourists and resorts. Rather,
it is Mexico's last frontier: a lonely strip of coastal sand held together by
a rocky backbone of mountain ranges. This raw and ancient landscape is inhabited
by a billion cacti, rattlesnakes, scorpions and a particularly hearty strain
of Mexican people. My girlfriend and I had driven from Canada to explore Baja.
I had come in part because I knew that the parched peninsula boasts some of
the best surf to be found on the shores of the Pacific Ocean. But more on that
later...
For serious road trip enthusiasts Baja is more than a mild challenge. Even its
principal road –- the Baja Trans-Peninsula Highway (only completed in
1974) – is a minefield of ruts, potholes and unexpected dangers. However,
Baja's hundreds of isolated back roads make the highway appear luxurious by
comparison. Varying in quality from windy gravel nightmares to dry riverbeds-cum-seasonal
roads, many of these routes are only attempted by the most hardy adventurers.
Explorers of these trails should come prepared for anything. I suggest a monster
four-wheel-drive vehicle equipped with two weeks food and water supplies, some
rattlesnake anti-venom and an iron will for survival. Because, believe me: the
Baja back roads are no place to break down. Nobody will venture along some of
these trails for months at a time and by then you'd be nothing more than a sun-bleached
skeleton, long since picked clean by the ever-present Baja scavengers.
For such a road trip you need a seriously hardy vehicle. We decided on the1978
Chevy van – better known as the "Shaggin' Waggon". We made the
decision to purchase this gas-guzzling behemoth because of its decadent shag
pile carpeting and green and gold velvet interior. The Shaggin' Waggon is pure
1970s American excess: a 6.2L Chevy V8 engine producing unspeakable horsepower
and a satisfying rumble when you step on the gas. It's just a pity about the
horrendous gas bill. To hell with the cost, we figured – comfort and style
is what's important on any road trip, and the Shaggin' Waggon was an unstoppable
desert ark, with décor straight out of a 70s pimp's wet dream.
Much of the Baja highway is a dead-flat burn across the desert – perfect
terrain for the Shaggin' Waggon's ultimate piece of long-haul driving luxury:
cruise control. With a ruler straight road ahead and no feet needed on the accelerator
pedal, driving becomes as easy as breathing. Now the only thing to do is turn
up the music and appreciate the scenery. We spent mile after sun-drenched mile
of driving time watching the stark desert plains and rocky, alien landscapes
move past us at a timeless pace. Occasionally we were woken from our rolling
desert trance when we had to swerve to avoid hitting huge iguanas warming themselves
on the asphalt.
90% of Mexicans are Catholic. So, it seemed only prudent to respect their beliefs
– meaning a crucifix and the portrait of the Virgin of Guadalupe hanging
from our rear view mirror for all to see. We had hoped investing in appropriate
religious symbols might get us out of trouble with police, the military and
maybe even the legendary Baja banditos. All over Baja there is evidence of Mexico's
long catholic history dating from the 1500s when Cortez sailed from Spain to
conquer the new world with both war and religion. The oasis settlement of San
Ignacio is by far the most impressive symbol of faith on the lonely peninsula.
Built on a rare desert spring, San Ignacio's focus is a beautifully restored
16th century church sheltered under a thick canopy of coconut and date palms.
It is hard to find a more refreshing rest stop on the long-haul drive through
the central Baja wastes than watching Hummingbirds sucking nectar from blossoms
in these shady church grounds.
One of Baja's loneliest catholic shrines can be found in the ghostly Catavina boulder fields. Dwarfed by four-story-tall cacti and sheltered between monolithic boulders is a humble shrine to the Virgin of Guadalupe. This painted mural of the virgin attracts many travelers on their way through deserted central Baja. The faithful come to light candles, lay flowers and finger their rosary beads in hopes of securing a safe passage through the wilderness. We took the time to wander near this roadside shrine and discovered cacti and succulent varieties by the dozen, each more alien and surreal than the last. Catavina's diversity of spiky vegetation is some of the best in Baja. Many of the cacti are unique to this region and only exist over a very specific area of a few square kilometers. I found my preconceptions of never changing desert vegetation to be completely wrong. One moment the baked sands are thick with Prickly Pear and Candelabra cacti varieties. Then – almost in the blink of an eye – you'll drive over some invisible vegetation boundary and these cacti will disappear almost entirely to be replaced by forests of Cardones and the fascinating, twisted Cirios. The cacti forest is punctuated by massive granite boulders which have been sanded smooth and round by lonely desert winds. The silence of these forests is eerie. Apart from the low moan of the wind the only noises are your own footfalls and the occasional warning jangle of a rattlesnake in the distance. It's all very spaghetti western really...
I'm a fanatical surfer, so Baja's world-class surf was a major attraction for
me. Baja was tur
ned into a peninsula by California's famous San Andreas fault
line, which caused it to be separated from the Mexican mainland in a massive
upheaval many millennia ago. Consequently it sticks out like a surf magnet into
the Pacific Ocean off the bottom of the United States. Baja catches swell from
almost anywhere in the Pacific, however it is the south and southwest angled
swells that produce the best waves. While in the ocean, waiting for my next
wave, I found Baja's Pelicans a joy to watch. They glide in like low-flying
formation bombers and skim the surface of the waves then skillfully arc away
before the wave breaks. If you're lucky you may also witness a Manta Ray leap
clear of the water and fly for a few moments before splashing down again. With
such beauty all around it's no wonder so many North American surfers worship
Baja.
Unfortunately, some of Baja's more famous surfing locations (especially in the
north) attract large numbers of cocky and aggressive American surfers during
weekends and holidays. This can be frustrating if you want to avoid fighting
for your waves. However, most of the time there are no more than a handful of
other surfers in the water – often mature long boarders from the 70s who
are more than happy to share the ocean's bounty. Plus, if you're willing to
drive a few hours there are dozens of seldom-surfed secret waves such as the
isolated point breaks of San Juanico and the legendary Seven Sisters region
which boasts seven right point breaks in a row.
Baja's sheltered eastern coast is a stark contrast to its wild and wave-battered
west coast. Here the azure Sea of Cortez is often as still as a pane of glass,
reflecting the rusty hues of the skeletal mountain range that rises from it.
The curious copper-toned colour scheme of arid desert submerging into crystalline
blue sea is quite surreal. You can still see the rusting hulks of ore crushing
equipment used as recently as 1953 to extract copper and manganese from the
sunset-coloured soil. The Bahia Concepcion coastline is possibly the most awe
inspiring on Baja's east coast. Rounding each bend in the winding, cliff top
road we discovered deserted bays of the purest white sand. They appeared one
after another – like perfect pearls hugging the rim of the sapphire blue
Bahia Concepcion coast. Not surprisingly, perfect yacht cruising grounds exist
amoung the plethora of steep jagged islands in the Sea of Cortez. Switched-on
sailors spend winter drifting up and down Baja's east coast, making use of its
countless sheltered anchorages, world-renowned sport fishing and unspoiled scuba
diving reefs.
Free Camping is one of the things which makes Baja a low budget traveler's haven.
All over the magical peninsula – but particularly in the south –
there are countless beaches where you can drive a vehicle onto the sand, pitch
a tent, start a fire and spend the night. The local police have no problem with
camping or beach fires. Often these well-populated "informal camping communities"
attract enterprising locals who set up modest, palm-thatched beach restaurants
called "palapa" serving fresh seafood, traditional Mexican meals and
cold drinks at extremely reasonable prices. Two of the very best free ca
mping
areas can be found at Tecolote beach, (near La Paz – the capital of Southern
Baja) and Playa Los Cerritos, (south of Todos Santos). Also, if you're prepared
to spend as little as twenty pesoes per night there are many well-run camping
grounds offering breezy palapas on the sand under which to pitch your tent or
park your vehicle. Two of the best low budget camping areas are San Miguel (northern
Baja, near Ensenada) and Playa San Pedrito (southern Baja, near Todos Santos).
Both are located at five star surfing locations offering long and fast rides
for serious wave-hounds.
BAJA DRIVING TIPS:
* Watch out for the kamikaze speed bumps called "topes". These destroyers
of tires, shocks, and suspension are often unmarked.
* Never drive at night. Baja's roads are incredibly narrow – often with
non-existent shoulders that love to roll cars. Wandering cows and goats commonly
block the highway.
* As a general rule you should ignore the posted speed limits – everybody
else does. The speed limits through much of central Baja are a joke. Dead straight
stretches of lonely highway have signs saying 40km/hr. This is sheer madness,
because at that speed it would take you 40 hours to drive the length of Baja.
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words and images copyright Jorin
Sievers
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