Balloons and Baja: Lack of Planning Causes Backtracking

I’m want to find fish tacos in Baja!  Mike announced, long before we got to Baja California.  And much has happened before he got those fish tacos!

The three weeks of October were filled with Albq balloon festival, eight days of mucking out junk and pack rat nests from our newly acquired property, buttoning up our house for winter, and packing the camper and Tracker.

The last few days before leaving, we had a dinner party for 8, then guests visited us for two days in a motor home.  We left the next morning.

In Arizona we visited three sets of friends in Prescott and my sister, Kathy and Richard in Scottsdale.  Then off to Yuma and Algodones for a cavity fix for Mike.  The night before, (good timing, I guess), I popped a crown off while flossing my teeth.

Good thing, because underneath was some decay, as well as underneath the filling next to it.  I got two new crowns and Mike; a filling.

Our driveway at the height
 of a long fall-color season.

The disaster with which 
Mike and I are dealing.

Mike and I in our Tyvek hazmat suits
worn  because of the danger of Hanta virus
from mice.  From pack rats?  Don't know.

In Albuquerque at the Balloon Festival in October.

Note the tiny basket 
under the huge balloons.

Such fun and what a
 lovely two mornings!

Driving down the interstate into CA, Mike said in alarm, “I hope they let dogs on the ferry!”  We planned to take the rig and ourselves on the ferry from La Paz, at the far end of Baja, to the mainland at Mazatlan.  But both of us had neglected to check about dogs!

Well, they DO allow dogs, but only under the most difficult of circumstances for both dogs and owners, not to mention the attention a diabetic one takes.  They can’t be left in the rig; they are put in a cage on the ferry deck.  You are not allowed to water, feed or see them in the 18 total hours of the passage.  Needless to say, no discussion was needed.  It was a no-go.

However, we WERE planning on meeting Australian friends in Baja.  In the end, we decided to go about ⅓ of the way, they backtracked a bit and we spent two enjoyable days getting reacquainted.  Then we started back north to the border.

We visited two places at the southern end of our journey, Bahia de las Angeles and Punta Santa Rosarito.  Both are very small fishing villages on opposite sides of Baja.  Neither has any redeeming features; stores, restaurants or sites. I’m sure it is nicer further south, but we already had to come back north, a long distance.

Headed north, looking for something interesting to see, we found it on our way off-road to an onyx mine:  We stumbled into the pit crew setting up for their truck for the Baja 1000 race, an 837 mile race through the desert on mostly dirt, some paved, roads.  We moved our camper out onto the desert to join them for the afternoon and night.

That afternoon a fisherman and his wife (friends of the crew) set up a tent, grill, etc and served fresh ceviche and grilled fish tacos to everyone. The fish was grilled with a sauce of mayo-mustard spread on the fillets, covered with onions and green peppers.  Both were absolutely fabulous.  

The first motorcycle of the race came through at 12:45.  At 5:00 stragglers (some on ATV’s) were still coming through —  they had started at 6 am!  We were at mile 348.  Apparently they change riders two times during the race.  Remember, 837 total miles, start to finish!

The trucks started about noon and by 6:45 the first one came through.  Surprising, but they, nor the cycles, are bunched together — partially because of the horrendous dust.   The pit crew told us when they were setting up, that they spend the day/night waiting, then work for 40 frantic seconds.

In the dark, the third truck to arrive so far, came wheeling into the pit stop.  Hurrah, we got to see them in action, as it was not the middle of the night!  In that frantic 39 seconds, they changed two tires and put in 55 gallons of fuel. One of the pit crew got a finger mashed (through gloves), another a gash on his head at some point (the pit crew wears helmets), then the driver was on his way.  And HE won the race, we learned the next day!

Mike's comment is that it is amazing that the racers average 50 mph, mostly at night -- in the horrendous dust.  But it was a surprising day and way, -- for Mike to get his fish tacos!

The first motorcycle racer 
coming through.

Ready and waiting for their guy.

The dust rolled through the camp, covering us all.

Thirty-nine frantic seconds to retire and refuel.

All hands up to show they are done and free of the race car.

South of Ensenada on the road to La Bufa, we found a lovely campground.  It was on the right, with a castle!  We missed it, drove past, then returned.  It was so pleasant that we stayed an extra night.

Some parts of the desert are beautiful. 

Our host's home at the Ensenada campsite.

A beautiful campsite sunset on the peninsula at Ensenada.

With Thanksgiving the following week, I remembered (my sister Kathy, Richard and friends, Tom and Deb were going to have a four-day weekend down by Bensen, AZ.  We joined them, then left from Bisbee late Saturday afternoon, headed south for the border.  Five days of hard driving and we finally reached Chilmulco hot springs for a rest.