Our camp had been perfect except for the 2am wake up call from the policia. Cleo’s growls were our first warning, but the real awakening happened when we saw the bright headlights shined at us and a male voice shouting something. Dan was faster to react than me, quickly grabbing some pants and shouting “Una momento por favor!” (one moment please) before jumping out of the car. The police asked if we were sleeping and he said we were and that we were travelling down to Cabo for surfing, our usual spiel. A few esta biens (it’s all good) later, they wished us a good night and went off. Guess they were just checking we were alright?

When we actually woke up, I rolled over to see the sun coming up over the ocean amidst a sea of fluffy white clouds. Muy bonita (very beautiful)! We rolled around in bed a while longer until it got too hot to remain. What an experience to have slept with the door wide open to the bay. I made cereal for breakfast and we packed the van. I did an investigation of the battery system because we’d been having issues with the inverter making loud fan noises most of the trip, so we’d resorted to turning the fridge off most nights so we could sleep in silence. Last night though, it had been ok so I wanted to know why. It was a voltage thing. I think we’d been overcharging the second battery, which meant the inverter was working hard. Just shows how valuable the regulator system in my car is. We’d only charge for an hour at a time from now on while driving to keep the battery voltage in the 11-12 volt window.

I drove this time to give Dan a break and we went back through the streets of Loreto. The bar owner had told us about a churro place and given us directions. We knew it would probably be closed, but we still wanted to do a drive by just to confirm that the things actually exist. The bar man also proved me wrong, confirming that they are a Mexican-invented delicacy, not Italian like I thought. After navigating a few streets, we had no luck and so left the city that had so pleasantly surprised us.

We were heading still further south, going from the east side of the peninsula back to the west as highway 1 dictated. We were still in the desert, but this time we were surrounded by mountains on all sides. The road was still pretty good and getting better. We stopped at a set of roadworks for a good chunk of time where we got to drive over heaps of loose tarry gravel that flicked up all over the underbody of the car.

After a half hour, we said goodbye to the bay of Loreto, stopping at a lookout to admire the big blue expanse shining at us under the sunlight. The islands that dotted the bay were beautiful. I’m sure divers and boaters spend days and weeks exploring this place.

There was absolutely nothing in the way of a town between Loreto and the town of Ciudad Insurgentes. It was a reasonably big town with palm- and hedge-lined streets. The palms were trimmed and the hedges that were big enough were formed to the shape of chickens. After turning off to head south, Dan noticed a taco stand advertising fish tacos for only 12 Pesos. What?!??!! I stopped immediately so we could investigate. Sure enough, 12 Pesos. “Quattro pescados tacos por favor!” (four fish tacos please!) With a soda, the whole meal for the both of us cost $3.50. They were delicious too. The low price almost made these they new winner, but according to Dan, they were a little “fishy” and for me, they hadn’t beaten the salad toppings of Loreto or the size.

Dan took over driving and took us out of town. The closer we got to the west side of the peninsula, the cooler the temperature which we were happy to discover. We could see the marine layer over the distant ocean but we weren’t going near it since the highway was taking us straight down. Quite literally, the road was dead straight for dozens of kilometres.

The next town we came to, Ciudad Constitucion was even bigger than the last with paved streets leading off the main roads and plenty of buildings and infrastructure. I was stoked to see a few signs and cardboard cutouts of Sergio Perez, the local F1 hero, but to my dismay, we couldn’t stop to get any photos with him. The rest of the way through town, I was on the look out for more, while Dan was still scoping around for a Churro stand. I want Checo, Dan wants churros. We were surprised that the further south we went, the more built up the towns seemed to be. We were under the impression that it would be the opposite since we were getting further from America.

There wasn’t much between Constitucion and La Paz, only a few side of the road towns, one of which we stopped at to get some fresh fruit and avocadoes. There was a fire nearby and I managed to ask the fruit stall lady if it was ok and she explained that it was controlled. We hit a few bouts of roadworks the further south we went, but in general we seemed to be leaving the shoulderless potholed roads behind, now getting on to two-lane highways with bright painted lines and reflectors. We feared we were heading further into tourist country.

Dan was driving as we came into La Paz. We weren’t really interested in stopping here, but wanted to suss out the ferry over to the mainland. This is something the Aussies Charlie and Jazz

had told us about since it was their plan to take a ferry from the south of the Baja peninsula over to mainland Mexico before heading down to Guatemala. As we drove through the isolated areas of Baja, the idea began appealing to us more and more since we weren’t all that interested in taking the same road back to Phoenix. I had full phone service for the first time since Ensenada so I navigated us to the ferry terminal office.

In a mixture of English and Spanish, we spoke to the lady there and understood it would be 2,200 Pesos to put a car and one person on the ferry and another 1,100 Pesos for the second person. It would take seven hours to get from La Paz across to Topolobampo, right across the bay. 3,300 Pesos ($165) sounded pretty damn good to us and it would mean we’d get to go on a ferry! We couldn’t buy the ticket there because we didn’t have a temporary import permit for the car yet but the lady told us we could obtain one from the ferry terminal itself at Pichilingue. I Googled the office location but I didn’t think it was right. When I showed it to the lady, she said that was it so we went off. I still wasn’t sure it was the right place because the route took us south out of the city when I had been pretty sure Pichilingue was north of the city by the water. Dan told me to trust the system since the lady had confirmed the location as well so we did.

I drove through horrendous multi-lane traffic liking La Paz less and less as we made our way to the next ferry office. It took half an hour to get there though it felt like a lot more. We even saw a bloody Walmart and Maccas in this town it was so Americanized. At least the Maccas carpark was empty and the drive through quiet, not like Dan’s home country. When we turned off the main road onto a dirt one through a residential area and knew things weren’t right. Diligently, Dan directed me to follow Google’s plan. When it came to an end, we were in a completely vacant lot that had absolutely nothing with a ferry office. We both swore off the internet. We’d been surviving just fine without it and the first time we use it, this happens. We decided not to worry about organising the ferry. We’d found out it leaves daily not like the Moon book said so it wasn’t likely we’d have to make a booking and if we had to wait a day or two for a boat, that didn’t really matter.

Since we were already so far out of the city and we’d be returning to the same place for the boat, we decided to peace out. Dan took over driving so I could take advantage of my cell service and upload some photos to my blog as he drove. Hungry for more tacos, we stopped off the highway at a good looking stand and for once, didn’t have fish tacos, but tried bistec (steak) and carne (pork). The steak was devine, especially with the guacamole that came with it but the pork wasn’t as good. Fish is still top of the pedestal. A fuel stop and convenience store stock up later and were out of La Paz.

The size of the highway was ridiculous, obviously built for all the tourists that fly in to Baja and want to feel like they’re still in America. We took the highway to the west side because we needed a reprieve from the heat of the last two days. It took about an hour and one military checkpoint to get to the closest beach at Todos Santos (All Saints). Sipping on a couple of beers, we laughed the whole way there, taking the piss out of each other constantly. We were getting better at military checkpoints. We’d probably been through about ten during our whole trip. At the first couple, we had to open our doors and show our passports, now we rarely stopped, our relaxed demeanour enough to get us waved past. He he.

We drove through the Americanized town of Todos Santos and head straight for the beach. There were many to choose from around Todos Santos, but I just chose the closest one. We’d been driving all day and I was in the mood for some water and some sand. We drove down a sandy road for a few minutes, drove past a fancy resort called El Faro and some ruins before coming to Punta Lobos. The first thing we noticed was the huge sign brandishing the resort as the killer of the local fishermen’s beach. We parked and Dan was forced to have a shit in the van (we have a system for this) thanks to the hot sauce he had put all over his tacos.

Cleo and I went out to explore while all that was happening. The beach was a pretty one, I could see why they built a resort right on the beachfront. The boat of fishermen were scattered all over the beach and just as I put my feet in the sand, I saw one such boat propel itself from the water, over a hill to come to a rest on the sand. He must have propelled the thing at least twenty meters from the water!

No need for a boat ramp here thanks to the soft sand! There was a small outlet behind the beach with a small shrine and a couple of wooden structures embedded into the cliffs, probably installed by one of the fishermen as a vantage point and camp. When Dan joined us on the beach, I let Cleo off the leash and she sprinted towards the most important person in her world. Despite the clear blue water and the fine sand, there was no one in the water, only a couple of resort-goers sitting under umbrellas. I’d read that this wasn’t a beach for swimming thanks to the strong wave currents that will pull you out to sea. We tested the water and found that the Pacific Ocean is just as cold on the southern tip of the peninsula as it is in the north.

Beers in hand, we mucked around in the sand and talked to a few of the resort-goers who came over to chat because they’d noticed Cleo. Chaz, Nicole and Marybeth were from Austin, Texas and were staying at the resort for a few days. They were friendly enough, but as soon as they’d left us we were making fun of them as the American All Star Douche Crew. Everything we said, they told us was “That’s so awesome (pronounced ahh-sum)! Oh too cool! Good for you guys!” So funny. At least they were having a good time, they probably thought we were idiots too.

When Cleo found a resting place with her favourite man lying in the sand, I decided they needed to be buried so proceeded to pile sand on top of their legs. Cleo didn’t seem to mind, so I kept going, all the way up to her neck. Such a calm doggie, she didn’t mind one bit.

Once we were done playing, I did some more observation of the people milling about the resort. I had particular fun watching a couple of guys who had clearly just arrived that day and were doing the recon of the resort to see what luxury they were in for over the next few days. I laughed at the robes they were wearing, clearly not hotel issued because of the patterns on them, they’d picked them out and brought them specifically on their trip. We decided they were a gay couple thanks to their fancy haircuts and short swimming trunks. They came out on the beach, almost to the water, then retreated to the resort for a couple of fancy drinks by the fancy pool. Each to their own, we were enjoying the beach for free.

It was 6pm by the time we left, but the sun was still plenty high in the sky. We decided we’d go into town to get drunk and meet a few people. We’d seen plenty of cars with surfboards on the roof so figured it would be easy to make friends. After doing a few blocks of the town, we found a rooftop bar that looked cool, but found it was closed. A lot of places were closed for the summer so the town was pretty quiet. Driving around a bit more, it didn’t feel right. There weren’t any taco stands and it seemed it would be difficult to find authentic Mexican food, just Americanized shops and restaurants. We peaced out, opting to go find a camp and cook dinner with the chicken we still had in the fridge.

I used my maps to try and find another road out to another beach but we ended up finding one on our own (again, technology is not necessary). It took many flipping of bitches (u-turns) which ended up meaning a few kilometres of extra travel thanks to the fancy American highway system, but we eventually made it to where we wanted to go. We were aiming for the palm tree infested beach and almost made it there before we came across a sign with lots of Spanish words painted in red and a skull and crossbones. After a bit of translation, it was obvious the place was private property and no one should pass. Ok, so we backed up and found another road that crept up the mountain, figuring we could get a sunset view over the ocean. The road was a little rough, but nothing the Cabańa couldn’t handle. We climbed and climbed, until after driving around the edge of a few mountains, we peaked and saw the sun and the water below us. Better than that, we found a beautiful looking camp spot out on its own point overlooking the palm trees and the crashing waves below.

We didn’t want to be visible from the property below so parked strategically, but after getting out to enjoy the view, we saw that the property looked abandoned, or at least completely empty. There was one empty house amongst the trees and no other hint of life. Not needing caution anymore, we moved the car so its back doors faced the ocean. Being by the Pacific again, the wind was cool so the jumpers came back out. It took us a while to get over the stunning view before I got going on dinner and Dan collected some firewood. There was plenty of dry cactus carcass to choose from surrounding camp.

Dinner ready (alfredo chicken pasta), we sat out in our chairs next to the car so we had a bit of a windbreak. The sun was setting behind the mountain to the right and since there was no marine layer, the colours of the sky were beautiful, transitioning in perfect bands up from the blue of the ocean, a deep red, The Lion King orange, yellow, a small band of green before sky blue. The moon was full and the stars were out, but we didn’t stay outside to enjoy them. The wind had picked up something fierce and was pushing dust around everywhere, putting it into our eyes. That didn’t bother us much, we retreated to the van for the rest of the night.

Thanks to Dan’s expert parking of the van, we could still have the back doors open to enjoy the view without getting blasted by the wind. We played cards and I had such a good hand it made him crack up laughing when I finished the game for him. It had been our latest camp yet, so we were ready for bed after one round.