We left Loreto after a second night and a fun, wide-open-throttle test drive of the Delica to ensure that our transmission’s shift points were still in the ballpark of normalcy. My “adjustment” of the throttle kick-down cable seemed to have done the job, but with the intermittent nature of the issue looming in the back of my mind, I couldn’t be sure. I knew that I would be paying attention to shift points, rpms, and take-off power for the rest of the trip, or at least until I could do some serious wrench spinning.

We headed south out of Loreto with the intention of making it to La Paz, but about 20 minutes into the drive we decided to make a detour for a night at Agua Verde, one of our favorite stops from our last trip. It’s a town, it’s a beach, it’s a destination, for us it’s a memory, for others it’s a dream, for Outside Magazine it was a 2-page spread of teal waters, tan sand, and tall cacti. We hadn’t properly provisioned for a beach stay - the last time we went to Agua Verde, we packed the Pinzgauer with water, food, and supplies with the intention of staying on the beach for as long as possible. This time, we had almost nothing, and what we did have was just a collection of odds and ends as far as food was concerned, so we stopped at Puerto Escondido, a large marina just south of Loreto, and got some over priced supplies at their very yachty, American tienda. From there we kept driving over the rolling hills until we found the turn to Agua Verde, a beautiful but rugged and exposed drive down a breathtaking canyon to the beach.

The drive down the canyon was easy, and we encountered some travelers headed in the same direction as Chelsea was landing her drone after taking some scenic photos. I shifted into AWD and low gear for the descent, and Walter crept along the broken road down. The drive is absolutely worth it, and I don’t think 4WD or high clearance is really necessary. It’s a little broken here and there, but decent tire placement will get you down to at least the beach. Once we were out of the canyon we were greeted by beautiful rolling sand tracks, Walter’s favorite type of trail. We made good time and easily found the left hand turn to our destination, a protected cove a few kilometers before Agua Verde proper.

Once we got there we found a few other campers and a lot of trash. One or two of the camp spots we remembered had since been filled in with heaping piles of refuse, either from the sea or (more likely) from users of the beach, and the others were taken by truck campers. The tide was out, and we considered buzzing down the beach to see if we could find a level, protected campsite far enough away from the water to not put Walter at risk when the tide rolled back in with the full moon that night, but nothing in view really fit. We released Gracie for some sand disc throws, and meandered down the beach, debating how safe we felt driving on the soft wet sand. Eventually we rounded a corner and saw that there were some more campers at one of the few remaining large sandy spots near an arroyo, and that there weren’t really any other spots available. We looked around, and instead of seeing the magical, golden beach of our memories and our stories, we saw a polluted, over used, over tagged, overland destination and that just wasn’t what we wanted. The drive down had been great, and that was enough for us. We headed back to the highway after eating a quick PB&J road lunch, and kept moving towards La Paz.

If we weren’t going to camp at Agua Verde, and we weren’t going to wild camp somewhere en route, we knew that the end result would be spending a night in CIudad Constiución, a little agricultural city on the Mex 1, nearly central in the state of Baja Sur. There were a few options for RV parks, one we had stayed at before on the far end of town, and a newer establishment (or newer to us at least). The iOverlander reviews were good and recent, supposedly there was WiFi and clean showers, so we decided to try something new in an attempt to break the rhythm of just revisiting old stops from our first trip. The sun was nearing the horizon as we pulled in, and despite the high price tag, empty pool and weak WiFi signal, we paid for a spot for the night. The neighbor was blaring music right next to the only spot that got a decent wireless signal, and there were flies everywhere, a result of some overripe figs falling from a tree directly above us, and we just weren’t having fun. The drive had been hot, and we had just lived the adventure travel equivalent of never-meet-your-heroes with our Agua Verde detour. I think we were a little more raw and vulnerable than we wanted to admit, and it all came to a head when Gracie growled at the RV park’s resident pit bull, causing a decent dog fight that honestly terrified both Chelsea and I. Gracie came out unscathed, I had a little bite on one hand (no broken skin), and the owner then locked the pit inside the apartment. Everything was okay, but we were over it, and the ensuing spiral of negativity left both of us broken and all but convinced that we wanted the trip to end.

I’m still struggling to figure out how to write about incidents like this because arguments between loved ones are often incredibly private, but the tiffs and the spirals and the arguments are products of the stress of travel, and any account of a journey that doesn’t show the negative with the positive isn’t honest. This traveling thing is stressful, and we have a lot of emotions and hopes and dreams and money tied up in following what we thought was our dream, so when the stress breaks us, it breaks us hard. It think it breaks all travelers hard. It’s difficult to go through a stressful uncomfortable day, then look at your dwindling bank account and the Instagram posts of everyone at home having fun and not think to yourself, “What am I doing here?”

The next morning we rallied slowly, with the emotional scars from the night before still raw, and left behind our disappointing RV park. We attempted to heal by seeking out some empanadas for breakfast, and they did not disappoint. A couple cups of coffee and a few oily Mexican hand pies later, we set out to make the last 100kms to La Paz.

Parking with the small boat trailers at the Puerto Escondido Marina while seeking out their spendy teinda.

Rolling hills on our way to the turn to Agua Verde.

Anything is a pillow when you’re dog tired.

The tanker truck seen on the road ahead of us very nearly took us out while passing us on a windy downhill section with a steep drop-off. We always maintain to anyone that asks “Is Mexico safe?” that the most dangerous part of our travels down here is the driving.

The always impressive Mountains of Baja Sur.

An aerial shot of the canyon drive into Agua Verde.

The hassle of launching the drone is almost always worth it.

Gracie was excited with anticipation of stopping for the day for some disc throws on a big beach.

Gracie waiting expectantly while we ponder why the unfriendly people in a second truck camper not pictured didn’t wave back when we tried to say hello. We’ve noticed a strange trend of antisocial behavior from fellow campers and travelers while on this trip. We’re not sure if it’s a holdover from Covid or a defensive “I found it first” when you arrive to what *feels* like should be a secluded secret camp spot. Either way, it’s discouraging when we’re used to pulling up and making new friends everywhere we go.

Gracie doesn’t care that the beach isn’t the paradise we remembered so fondly.

A full moon rising over a mediocre RV park at a halfway point in our trek down Baja.

Empanadas so fresh that the dough was made and shaped after we ordered, then filled with our menu choices and set before us piping hot from the oil.

We rolled into La Paz in the afternoon, and scoped out our usual RV park on the outskirts of town. It was hot (again) and we were dying for some A/C, so we decided to get a hotel in town for the night. Looking for hotels in big cities is often difficult for overland travelers, even for van dwellers like us that don’t have a BIG rig. We found a review on iOverlander for a gringo-ran hotel with secure parking, a pool, and a traveler-positive vibe, with some reviews even stating that the owners helped them arrange a booking on the ferry. The price wasn’t too bad, roughly $49 USD a night, and Gracie was welcome to stay in the room with us, and a continental breakfast was served in the mornings, so we went with it. As an added motivation, we were meeting some friends from Idaho in town as they were coming down for a short van trip of their own, so the downtown-adjacent location of the hotel was helpful for short commutes - our Uber rides ended up being roughly $3 USD.

We met our Idaho friends Sam and Tyler that evening; they had flown into Cabo to partner with a van tour company to provide photos in exchange for a discounted trip. They had been on the road for a day or two and were slated to spend two nights in La Paz, which was a fine amount of time for us as it bought us a day to get things done, like laundry and booking a ferry. We strolled the downtown and then met for dinner and watched an impromptu Halloween parade on the malecón (we learned that Halloween has caught on in a big way in Baja, but without the traditional American-style suburban neighborhoods to trick-or-treat in, some places will hold “parades” where costumed children can stand on the sidewalk to receive candy). Some of the bars and clubs had decorations up, and there were some costumed revelers making mischief, but the best part was the decorated cars cruising the strip in bumper-to-bumper traffic, blaring music and throwing candy (and even handing out beers). It seemed like the drivers were rolling in little car clubs, with a handful of Jeeps passing by and then Mustangs and then classic cars, with locals in daily drivers partying the hardest. Most of the cars were wrapped in fake cobwebs and caution tape, with the drivers and passengers in costumes, and more than one had stuffed mannequins slammed in the hood or the trunk. The parade definitely wasn’t sanctioned, and it meant that all the fun was spread out in normal traffic, but that made it better. The malecón was a party for and by the people that night.

We had tacos at an empty mezcal bar, the kind of place that is designed for a party and really seems vacant if no one is there, but at least the service was fast, and then we introduced Sam, Tyler and their traveling cohorts to street hamburguesas and after-dinner palletas. The in-town vibe was good and we had a nice night, until we got home to Gracie’s incessant barking. We’re not sure if she was barking the whole evening, but she might have been, and we were thankful Sam had kindly brought us a behavior correction collar from the states, as we had forgotten ours at home.

That night my low-level respiratory issues became low-level respiratory distress, as I had a hard time breathing and my dry cough went from bad to worse. Chelsea had a tough time sleeping, as when I wasn’t coughing she was afraid I wasn’t breathing, so the next morning she made me seek out a doctor and a pharmacist. Like most big towns, La Paz is peppered with farmacias, establishments very similar to an American pharmacy, but with a doctor or medico attached. The medico has an office directly next to the pharmacy, and you go see him for a quick (like REALLY quick) assessment, and then he writes a prescription, and the pharmacist fills it right there. I wandered in, explained my symptoms, and was immediately prescribed steroids and cough syrup. To be completely honest, I was a little uncomfortable with how quickly the medico prescribed steroids, and the gusto with which he talked me into them being delivered by injection. I was also a little uncomfortable by the near complete lack of patient assessment - he only asked me my symptoms, and didn’t take my temperature or visually assess my throat or palpate anything. He just kind of eyeballed me, told me that he was sick too and I had what he had, probably RSV, and that was that, now bend over and drop your trousers.

The big ‘ol shot of steroids worked pretty quickly and I was feeling better, but certainly not cured, in less than an hour. We spent the rest of the day getting little things done, like adding some UV protection to our 26-year-old coolant expansion tank on the van and booking a ferry reservation at the Transportación Marítima de California (TMC) office. We had two choices for the ferry route from La Paz to Mazatlán, Baja Ferries and TMC. We had heard Baja Ferries was the choice for most passengers bokting cabins for rent and a large lounge, and TMC was the choice for commercial traffic, but that Baja Ferries didn’t allow travelers to sleep in their vehicles and dogs either had to be crated and stored in the hold or kept in one of very few (and pricey) pet-friendly cabins. We wanted to do the cool thing and ride with the truck traffic and sleep in our van, so we headed to the in-town office to book a reservation, the first step in actually getting on a boat.

At the office parking lot I once again cursed my poor Spanish and steeled myself for a complicated, multi-lingual reservation process, only to be pleasantly surprised at the ease of the entire endeavor. The bookings agent asked a few details, like intended departure date, length of the vehicle, number of passengers, and telephone number, and then we were done! It was maybe a 10-minute affair, with the hardest part being calling Chelsea to bring in her passport.

Meanwhile, our Idahoan friends had spent all day trying to sort out a blown power steering seal on their rental VW van. The night before it had been making an excellent racket with any input from the steering wheel, and at the Peace Center, a downtown traveler hostel that offers parking for small rigs, the van had been slowly bleeding red ATF all over the gravel, a sight not uncommon to Tyler and I as he is a snow-cat based ski guide and I had worked around enough wounded snow groomers to know a blown hydraulic system when I saw one - old cats love to bleed! With their van in the operating room and me wishing my RSV (or… COVID????) would take the hint and disappear, we skipped meeting up the second night in La Paz and made plans to get breakfast before our journey continued the next day to a desert oasis high in the hills of Baja California Sur.

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Oct 28 - Oct 30 : Agua Verde, a crisis of trip in Ciudad Constitución and finding some friends in La Paz

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