Road Trip to Land's End

by Martina

My first visit to Baja was with my sister, Alisabeth in the 80s. We came down from California in her old VW van. I white-knuckled it for a while, peeking through the dirty windshield. We traveled a narrow, two-lane road running through Rosarito Beach. As we traveled south of Ensenada, the road wound out to the coast where we watched the ocean water leap into the sky through a rocky blow-hole known as La Bufadora. Our passion for a true journey into the heart of Baja California began then. The Baja Bug bit me on this first trip, leading to an adventure to Land's End - Cabo San Lucas!

With adventurous spirits, las dos vagabundas set out a few years later, packing my 1973 VW Bug to the roof. Our first stop was the sleepy Mexican border town of San Ysidro where we bought car insurance at a kiosk of course! It was thrilling to make it through the crossing and on to Rosarito Beach. My 20-year old VW seemed as excited as we were to go on our dream trip to drive the full length of the peninsula. It purred along as we shoved a cassette into the player and sang along with the Gypsy Kings. We made our first stop to exchange dollars for pesos at 3,000 to one dollar! Laughing, we stuffed wads of money into our backpacks and felt rich.

We hurried on, wanting to make it to El Rosario by nightfall. As we came into Maneadero, Alisabeth yelled, “Tope, tope!” just as the VW slammed into a huge speed bump. Alisabeth laughed hysterically because she was thinking in Spanish and I didn’t get the warning. There are many ways to learn Spanish!

We pulled into the tiny pueblo of El Rosario and took lodging at Mama Espinosa’s. The hotel room was shocking at first. It was bare, but for beds that must have experienced many bodies over the years. The next morning the VW climbed valiantly through hairpin turns to the summit where the vastness of Baja was beyond comprehension.

Suddenly Alisabeth hollered, “There! There they are!” I exclaimed, “What?!” We had just entered the Valle de Los Cirios where the Dr. Seuss like cactus with flower hats and the cardon cactus created a landscape of living creatures. We stopped and sat on the bumper of the VW and ate a snack. Standing next to a mammoth cardon never gets old. Many travelers, myself included, say that Baja doesn’t really begin until Baja Sur. Some may argue, but for an authentic road trip it truly begins in Guerrero Negro. That day the town felt old and worn out, but came alive during the migrations of the gray whales.

The gas stations were few and far between. Sometimes they would be out of gas. The VW was running on fumes so at Cataviña, I was forced to fill up the tank from a dubious looking plastic five-gallon drum. A gent with missing teeth syphoned the gas through a greasy hose and was curious about the two gringas güeras traveling without a man. A few years later I would return here to crawl up into the boulder fields to find a small cave painting. It could not have held more than four small people. The symbols looked like a sun, the rain and numerous others. The ceiling had been blackened by fire. Sitting quietly, I mused what life must have been like. In some odd way I felt I knew. Peaceful.

Surrounding Cataviña white giant boulders possessed the land with unbelievable shapes and sizes. We stopped for lunch in the lovely Hotel Misión Cataviña. The fountain and sparkling swimming pool were a treat for the eyes in the middle of the desert. On our return home we would splurge on the large comfy room without a TV and laze at the pool's edge. The open road kept calling us. Next stop - San Ignacio. But first we were stopped at a military check point. And since we were two gringas and neither of us spoke fluent Spanish, the young soldiers took quite a long time to do their search.

San Ignacio is a place where history still remains. There were a few hardy Americans who called it home. In the center of the pueblo the community met in the evenings. The night lights under the trees were a blessing after the heat of the day. Here I met an artist who could have been a student of Vincent Van Gogh and a leather worker creating hand tooled saddles. We were too late in the season for the whale watching tours given by the Kuima. I returned a few years later to experience this first hand. When I reached over the side of the boat, a baby weighing in at a ton, came up and sprayed me. I laughed out loud in surprise, and as if he knew, he sprayed again delighting all of us. These are conscious beings and will change our lives.

I had thought we had been through some tough mountain roads, but nothing was compared to the old road that made its way toward the Gulf of California. This is where the VW proved itself. At nearly 20 years old, it was best suited for this kind of driving, but I must admit, the constant shifting through the curves was ruthless. Suddenly there was the first view of the gulf. I was stunned. It took my breath away and still does to this day. Magic lives here. We drove along the black sandy shore into Santa Rosalia where the old mill stood looking like a rusted sculpture. Old beat-up shrimp boats were moored in the harbor waiting for repair. We hurried on through and headed to Mulegé.

I had no idea that my life was about to change. We found a campsite on the south shore of the Mulegé river and pitched our tents under massive palm trees and headed to town for dinner. There was a little fiesta going at Hotel Hacienda. Weekly, they roasted a full pig over the coals. There was music and dancing. I stood in line for a slice of pork. As I drew close to the server, he gave me an evil look and threw a big bone on my plate. Ah, the Mexican humor.

As we explored, we found a fabulous Jimmy Buffett restaurant at the edge of the gulf. Built from flotsam it had sandy floors and was family owned. They made a mean margarita. We made this our go-to place. One day Alisabeth hollered at me from outside, “Come here, you are not going to believe this!” She pointed out a handsome fisherman jumping out of a panga onto the shore. We were befriended by the marineros and asked to join them on the shrimp trawler for a fiesta. We were treated like queens. Huge baskets of steamed shrimp caught that morning were brought out from the cocina and the music reverberated across the water.

Road trips are bound to hold unbelievable experiences and this one sure did. We stayed aboard El Joven through the night and learned firsthand how shrimp found their way into our cocktails. I wrote in my journal, “Still in Mulegé trying to get out!” A silent vulture soared overhead. We hadn’t completed our trip to Land’s End and it was time.

We drove through La Paz over to Todos Santos and came to a hill top overlooking La Finisterra, Land’s End. Las vagabundas did it! We entered an old fishing village and found a room at the Mardi Cortez. Señor Frog's was the hot spot. It was easy to make friends during those quiet days. My Spanish blossomed. I often tell people to watch out for the Baja Bug. Once bitten you will return and maybe Baja turns you into a Storyteller.

La Bufadora photo credit: Abby Vasquez