Mexico, Part 5: Baja Sur, Whale Watching in Guerrero Negro, and San Ignacio

Baja Sur and Whale Watching in Guerrero Negro

The peninsula that Americans know as Baja is comprised of two states, Baja California and Baja California Sur. Baja means lower, and refers back to Fransican's division of their Californian mission territory into Alta and Baja. The peninsula is still known as Baja, and the lower half of lower California is know referred to as Baja Sur, or southern Baja.

The border between the brother states is marked with limited fanfare: a large flag, some Grey whale bones, and a guy spraying down tires with pesticide. Like a never ending Phish set, Baja Sur is a continuation of the song of the north, with a few more subtle riffs on beautiful beaches and palm trees added for good measure. It's very nearly the same paradise, but "very nearly" isn't identical.

Our first stop was Guerrero Negro, home to the greatest salt mine in the world and a renowned whale-watching spot. Grey whales spend their summers eating and copulating in the rich waters of the northern pacific. When the weather turns and the days get shorter, the lady whales migrate to the warmer waters of Baja to birth their baby whales. The water is warm and the lagoons are protected, providing a perfect spot for teaching their little ones how to swim and breathe and get by.

We camped on the beach by a salt refinery for very, very little money, and caught a whale watching boat the next day. By a blessing from God we found ourselves alone on the boat, just the two of us and the captain and a boat hand. IT WAS AWESOME! No crowd, no one else to talk to, just near silence while we stalked a few pairs of enormous whales. The babies were pretty big and the moms just huge, to put it in bland and blatant terms. I grew up whale watching every summer on Cape Cod, and this is nothing like that. While our captain did keep us a respectful distance from the new mother-child pair, it was much more intimate than my expectations.

The camping spot was exquisite. We weren't actually charged for camping, but for entrance into the park, so technically the camping was free. There weren't a lot of other folks camped, and almost no light pollution, so the photo opportunities were outstanding. Chels broke out her big camera and tripod one night to capture some stunning shots of the sunset and the starry night.

Flag, whale bones, and somewhere down this road there is a lonely gentleman spraying tires with pesticide to protect the desert ecosystem.

Loulou, exploring yet another campsite, this time at Guerrero Negro.

Spectacular sunsets, as per usual, over the west side of the Baja Peninsula.

She knows how pretty she is.

Did I mention sunsets?

The campsite was amazing at all times of the day.

Little Foot looks good in any light, no big deal.

Me, impersonating a whale.

All alone all day! No other tourists with us on the boat ride.

Scared? I don't know.

Whale saying hi!

There was no part of the trip that wasn't magical.

We were super close to the enormous beasts of the sea.

I couldn't stop giggling.

The scars are from barnacles, boats, rope, nets, and other bad things.

Half the fun was searching for the whales.

Little Foot driving through the salt flats.

San Ignacio

After leaving the Guerrero Negro lagoon and campground, we provisioned in the town and headed out. With tanks full of water and a stocked fridge, we made our way to San Ignacio, by way of some small highway town that gave us a foggy night of camping in a hotel lot.

We arrived in San Ignacio, parked in the town square, and explored the nearby mission. There are missions up and down the peninsula, and the one in San Ignacio is supposed to be the best balance of accessibility, originality (as in terms of structure), and quality (as in terms of upkeep and grounds). We're Christians but we're not Catholic, but that didn't keep us from really appreciating the grandeur structure. We recognize that the history of missions in both Mexico and the US is a history of bloodshed and subjugation, and while we in no way support the methods put forth by the missionaries in the name of God, we can't help but recognize a beautiful structure when we see one.

After pondering the beauty of the town square and its mission, we headed out of town to find a camping spot, only to run (pun intended!) into the Via PanAm team! Via PanAm is a team of four crazy people who are running marathon lengths (26.2 miles) from Prudhoe Bay, Alaska to Ushuaia, Argentina for charity. Weking and Seba are the runners, and Liesbeth and An are their support. "To Walk Again" is their chosen charity, and their goal is to support folks with physical limitations. Maybe that means keeping them active or maybe it means starting the process to get an expensive prosthetic made. To help the charity, the Via PanAm team runs a marathon EVERY DAY. Everyday there is one team member running, one recovering, and two supporting. The supporting team members drive two very cool Toyota Hilux trucks with custom built camping boxes, but the trucks are just there to carry the stuff. Their's isn't a vehicular trip. Their travel is supported by wheel, but driven by feet.

They haven't raised a lot of money, and they deserve your support. Give them the price of a latte or a draft beer, or something. Check out their website www.ViaPanAm.Today and maybe give a little, not because you must, not because you can, not because they are living an amazing story and it inspires you to push your own limits and realize your untapped potential, but because THEY RAN A MARATHON TODAY.  And they will tomorrow. And the next day. And then again. And then again and again and again. All the way to Ushuaia, Argentina. Oh you don't know where Ushuaia is? IT'S WHERE SOUTH AMERICA RUNS OUT OF THINGS YOU CAN RUN ON.

Our camp site that night was awesome. The Lagoon in San Ignacio is fed by a freshwater spring, a real life Oasis on the peninsula of desert. We camped, cooked, swam, and enjoyed the rope swing. Cost? 80 pesos (~4USD) a night. I love this country.

Digging out our water tanks to refill. Agua Purificada shops are plentiful and cheap. Even better…the water they produce is absolutely delicious.

Chels' morning yoga and stretching ritual is often interrupted by head butts with Loulou.

The foggy camp spot. Cool trucks camp together.

The mission at San Ignacio.

Chels shooting in the mission.

Mission beauty. 

More mission beauty.

Contemplating benches.

If your kid told you he was driving from Alaska to Ushuaia, or maybe riding motorcycles, you'd probably be terrified. These crazies are running that trip. On their feet. Donate now: www.ViaPanAm.today

San Ignacio camping. Super Sweet.

Rope swinging.

Rope swing panicking.

Chels's jumping photo had an equally if not more terrifying face, but she wouldn't post it since she was in her skivvies. Alas, you'll have to take our word for it and at least see this photo of her soaking wet as proof that she jumped from the rope swing as well.

Just buy a truck, a van, a camper, a rig, ANY RIG, and go exploring. This is what you'll get. (Cat not included.)

Stretching and coffee with Loulou.

Contemplating the day. Evidence of a fire in the background. San Ignacio.

Oregon Part 3: Cousin AdVANture, Roseburg, and OREGON IS TAKING TOO LONG!

Cousin AdVANture!

As we drove down the coast, we met my cousins Jay and George, and Jay's wife Morgan, in the pretty little city of Eugene for an adVANture! Jay and Morgan have just recently purchased a built-up E350, with a 4x4 conversion by Quigley (no, not the Tom Selick Quigley, the motor company Quigley). Their rig is pretty cool, and all the hard parts (slamming an F350's suspension and driveline under an E350) were already done, but all the fun bits like customizing the interior are awaiting their hard work and design.

We headed out on the Coos Bay Wagon Road, a mostly paved, sometimes forested, and often steep road from Eugene to the coast. We had a great time, and Little Foot only broke down once!

Team photo!

My excitement about the chance to have our photo taken going through a covered bridge caused me to stall out Little Foot, and upon trying to restart him, he wouldn't fire. I had a sneaking suspicion the spark plugs needed to be replaced, and THANK GOD we had picked up a spare set the day before. After trying a few normal and easy fixes, like letting the engine breathe, starting with and without choke, and feathering the throttle, I decided to rule bad spark out of the equation by performing some roadside maintenance. New plugs, gapped to 32/1000 of an inch had Little Foot back up and running. For those wondering, Little Foot has an aftermarket solid state ignition manufactured by our friends at PinzSSI.com.

Broken down!

Tuttle cousins and some handsome rigs. Notice the size comparison between LittleFoot and a E350. The bodies are nearly the same length.

We set up camp in the rain, but had a great time under Jay and Morgan's excellent tarp. We made a fire, had some dinner, and generally carried on. It was a great adVANture!

Luckily all five of us hold honorary master's degrees in "Tarp-ology", so setting up the shelter was a breeze. Notice the crucial ladder.

Roseburg: Reorganization, Solar Power, and Shower Version 1.0

In Roseburg we stayed with Chelsea's fantastic Uncle Paul and Aunt Debbie. They opened up their driveway, home, and workshop to us for a few days, and man we needed it. Chels tore all our storage stuff out of Little Foot for a reorganization and pairing down of gear. We sent away a pair of skis to my brother, sent a box to storage with the rest of our moth-balled gear, and reorganized everything else.

Also, I spent some time finally wiring up our solar components, and fully charging our batteries. We also built what would turn out to be a leaky solar shower. We hadn't planned on failing, but we learned that you need to use big, full strength PVC instead of the lightweight irrigation tubing we used. Because we failed, we'll do a full post on our final product in the future, but there's some shots of me drilling holes and such below.

We can't thank Paul and Debbie enough for taking us into their home for a few days. Everyone out there who has helped and hosted us, thank you SO much, especially for the use of your bathrooms! Showers are like gold to us.

Taking stuff down.

Taking stuff out.

Our solar shower (version 1.0, super leaky!) was constructed from 4" PVC irrigation tubing , two caps, and a T-joint with a screw on inspection cover we use as a fill port. We included a tire tube valve to pressurize the chamber and a radiator drain plug to allow for the water gravity feed without air locking. Like I said, we'll do a whole breakdown in the future with version 2.0.

The solar power also got wired together, finally, and is charging our house batteries and powering our Whynter Fridge as I type. Pretty cool!

Installing valves into the screw cap on the T-joint.

Wiring VERY CAREFULLY!!!

Chelsea painting the shower.

Finishing Out the Oregon Coast

Oregon took a while, in real life and in Blog updates! We're going to try to cram together some weeks of travel in the next updates. The end of Oregon was punctuated by AMAZING coastal views. We spent some time wandering around beaches, impersonating statues in seaside hamlets, and hiking up a forested trail to a coastal peak. Long story short, visit Oregon. There are too many adventures to be had in a single lifetime just inside this great state.

We found some statues. I had to impersonate them. For more BAD performance art, see our Rusty Does Arches blog post!

I am the seahorse!

The beaches are outstanding. Check out the driftwood! It collects and naturally barricades the exit from the stairs in this photo. Pretty cool.

Chelsea looking pensive.

A great hike on Humbug Mountain

Me at the peak of Humbug, doing my Peter Pan stance.

The light coming through the trees was AMAZING.

Moss on the trees in a coastal forest.

Chelsea looking a bit disheveled after nearly slipping and falling down some mud.

Paint makes vans go faster.

We had hoped to be able to paint Little Foot while in Salmon and followed quite a few leads to find a place to do it indoors (so we could protect it and heat it to get the paint to cure properly). After some back and forth, we finally thought we had a spot lined up via an old friend of my dad. When the morning came, we loaded up the supplies (including tarps to cover anything nearby since we decided to go the "easy" spray paint route this time around) and headed over to the spot.

Salmon, ID, refuses to not be pretty.

Plan A foiled. On to plan B.

Unfortunately for us, the garage bay (that happened to be on the lot of a government agency) was for use by employees only. But because God was watching out for us, one of the other gentlemen at the lot offered us the use of his personal garage, just up the road. He mentioned it was outfitted with a paint booth, and we couldn't say yes fast enough!

The owner of the workshop mentioned we'd have to move a project out of the way. He didn't mention it was a home-built, 5.7L Corvette-powered hotrod!

Think short thoughts! We barely fit. You can see the exhaust fan on the left side of the garage door.

We pulled the wood stove's draft cap off the chimney, slid Little foot into the garage, dropped the paint booth's walls. and got to work on prep. The most important part of any paint project is preparation. Between cleaning, sanding, and taping, the preparation should take at least 1/2 the time allotted for the project. 

Tape tape tape.

After everything was taped, we coated Little Foot with automotive primer. A solid coat of primer should keep the original paint from seeping through, as well as allow for strong adhesion of the new paint.

We turned Little Foot into the Tin Man!

After priming we started in on the top coat. We had wanted something simple, so we chose an aluminum gloss paint, thinking it would be a muted silver. We were WAY off! The paint was darn close to a mirror finish. We had turned our matte green steed into the Tin Man, and we were worried. Little Foot looked comical, and not the good kind of comical. In an effort to tone down the silver, we decided to quickly add original, olive drab racing stripes. For what may be the first time in automotive history, racing stripes were added to a vehicle to make it look less ridiculous. 

I'm just posing. Chelsea did all the geometry work on the stripes. I think they look great!

Clear coat misery.

After finishing the racing stripes we decided to clear coat Little Foot to add some protection to the paint. About half a can in, Chelsea noticed that the clear coat was causing the aluminum paint to run. It looked terrible! After inspecting the warning labels on the clear coat, we read "DO NOT USE ON ALUMINUM FINISHES." Oops. Luckily, we realized that we weren't suppose to use the clear coat on aluminum finishes because it reduces the reflective qualities of the paint, effectively removing the sheen. This was an enormous blessing to us, because it muted the super shiny paint job, and left us with a gentle silver finish. Perfect! All our mistakes turned into one decent, cheap paint job.

So now Little Foot looks a lot faster, and a lot less like an army van, which was exactly why we painted him in the first place. We really didn't want to travel over any borders looking like a lost band of paramilitary soldiers. We may get robbed as tourists, but at least we won't be posing as something we're not.

You meet the nicest people on Craigslist.

Last week we left you on a bit of a cliff-hanger; lets pick up where we left off. We rolled into Portland's Union station about 15 minutes early, which was good because we figured we needed every second to secure funds to make our next greatest-ever purchase. 

We were busy, but we had time to snap some quick shots. Union station is beautiful.

Chelsea looked remarkably good for spending a night in a train seat. I didn't.

We played physical sudoku on a board Chels picked up at a curiosities store down the block from the bank. Only in Portland?

We hailed a cab real fast and drove a few miles away to a Wells Fargo bank. The daily manager, Mr. Trevor, was BEYOND helpful. We were there from just after open until just after closing (on a Saturday!) trying to manage access to some of our funds at a different state in a different bank, but alas, it didn't work out. We knew we would be heading to meet a gentleman by the name of Toby to discuss our purchase of a Swiss Army Pinzgauer truck at 2 o'clock when the bank closed, but we also knew we wouldn't have the cash in hand to buy it. The bank could process our request first thing on Monday, but that was two days away. We shrugged, phoned Toby, and (unbeknownst to us) started a GREAT weekend away.

Toby and I (and one of Toby's neighbors who is looking under the truck) checking out the Pinzguaer.

So much shop talk. SO much learning. I was/am in heaven.

It drives like a completely mechanical Austrian army truck. OHMYGOSHSOMUCHFUN.

Toby picked us up from the bank after waiting for ages. We were very afraid we were shooting his weekend in the foot, and man we felt bad, but he was cool as a cucumber. Over the course of the afternoon (and then the weekend!) Toby told us all about his Pinzgauer.

A Pinzgauer is a breed of Swiss cow, but more importantly, its a highly capable off-road vehicle built by the Steyr-Puch company for the Swiss and Austrian Militaries. They are commonly 4x4s and more rarely 6x6s, and originally powered by air-cooled gas engines, but more recently by turbo-diesels. We found a 1982 6x6 with a rare "workshop" fiberglass box attached to the back listed for sale a few weeks ago. After doing some research and realizing what a find it was, we spent every subsequent day thereafter talking ourselves into and out of buying it. Long story short, it's got low miles, great tires, and a fiberglass house/box on the back. Its drivetrain is designed to be both sturdy and serviceable, it has reasonable gas milage, terrific clearance, and incredible traction. It's well designed, over built, and underused, and that's why we're planning on taking it overland from here as far south as we can go. Mexico? Central America? Tierra Del Fuego? Who knows.

We were sold, and Toby liked the number Chelsea and I offered him (third offer; we totally lowballed the poor guy at first and he took it in stride). The only problem was, we didn't have the cash to back up our talk. All three of us were sitting on the curb thinking when Toby's wonderful wife Nicole walked up (after chasing their dog around the block, whom we had let out of the house by accident). Toby glanced at her sideways, saying something about us finding a hostel, and she cut him off saying:

"Of course they can stay with us."

That's me on the left, Maya the pate queen in the center, and Nicole in the striped pullover on the right.

The symphony plays in the distance as Toby and I talk shop about Swiss/Austrian trucks.

The rose garden went nearly completely unappreciated that night. Portland's parks (or at least this one) are beautiful.

What unfolded over the following two days was the most wonderful weekend away that we didn't know we desperately needed. Nicole and Toby kicked off our weekend with a free symphony concert at a nearby park. We had a charcuterie plate that rivaled the offerings of a fine restaurant, homemade pâté, fresh fruit, fresh bread, and fresh beverages. It was freshly excellent. We met some more new friends, and learned that the next day (Sunday) would feature a full-on brunch, and eventually went back to Toby and Nicole's house, fat and happy.

Measuring and dreaming.

It has levers! And Rifle holders! (We actually removed the rifle racks and donated them back to Toby, who will be able to use in another vehicle of his.)

This is about as "American Beauty" as I get.

Here I am checking one of the ELEVEN fluid levels in the drive train. ELEVEN. That's one more than 10.

The next morning we got acquainted with our new vehicle; Chels started taking measurements of the box and organizing a small portion of its orignial interior outfitting, and I started checking and filling its 11 chambers of gear oil in the drive train (six portal axles, three differentials, a transfer case and a transmission). Toby and Nichole's neighbors are awesome, and we eventually had an audience of onlookers. Apparently Toby's eccentric vehicles are no new thing to his neighbors. We worked for hours, but in the early afternoon we were pulled from our pursuits to have the most outstanding brunch ever.

You're looking at Halibut Cheeks, eggs, fried zucCHinis, fresh fruit, and a newborn dutch baby. Don't worry, the Bubbly is on the Table.

I am a huge fan of strangers. (sorry for the mishapen heads…panos don't always play well with moving objects)

Straight up: brunch was nearly as excellent as the Pinzgauer parked out front. The whole conversation, hours of it, was spent on talking about traveling. From Asia to South America to Europe, it turns out we had found some new, very well-traveled friends. I left knowing two things: Halibut cheeks are superb, and there is a beat-up motorcycle named "The Chupacabra" that I need to rescue in Panama. Hopefully both topics will feature in further posts.

Reading up on important stuff.

We acted like good gelato wasn't a big thing for us. Its a big thing for us.

Walrus time!

Later that evening Toby and Nicole took us on a tour of downtown Portland. We hit up Powell's used book store (you gotta go) and then Pinolo Gelato, and man they both were amazing. Check 'em out. We bought a book on camping, seeing as we'll be doing only that once we move into the Pinzgauer full time and start traveling.

Amazing food. New Friends. Austrian/Swiss vehicles. Really well designed furniture. God, is this heaven?

Just killer food. Nicole can cook.

Dinner was as good as brunch. more Halibut (yessssss!) more fresh bread, more delicious salads, all set before a fantastic backdrop of European design, retro American art, and Austrian vehicles. I want to take this moment to well and truly thank Toby and Nicole. You two are unparalleled in the world of my travels. I sincerely hope we can stay friends, if only for more of Nicole's cooking.

Happy dance at a rest stop!

The next (Monday) morning, Chels and I ran to the bank and waited eagerly for them to unlock the door. We secured some funds, took some selfies, packed the Pinz and headed off for 600+ miles of straight driving back to the headquarters of Montana Raft Company. We both had work the next day, and couldn't dilly-dally. We would have loved to stop along the shores and vineyards of the Columbia river valley, or explore some of the side towns and rivers, but alas, those weren't on the docket for today. We had to boogie.

If you don't need hearing protection when you drive, you're driving the wrong vehicle.

Toby was with us every step of the way. (That's him on the phone with me as I attempt to mess with the timing.)

We drove and drove and drove, until I heard a rattle that I couldn't ignore. Something didn't sound right about the Pinz, but it may have been the hours and hours of driving ringing in my ears. I phoned Toby to rule out the possibility of pre-ignition (pinging can damage an engine fast), and we decided everything was probably OK. With a little confidence, we drove on into the night.

11 is a lucky number. Always stop/pump at lucky number gas pumps. Its doesn't cost extra.

Where is that rattle???

We drove further until the rattle darn near drove me nuts. I couldn't imagine that the sound I was hearing wasn't causing trouble, so Chels and I took the seats out (so easy) and removed the doghouse covering the engine (also easy) to make a diagnosis. It's real nice having the engine in the cab because it's totally covered and you can work on it from a standing position. We figured out that the only belt on the engine was vibrating laterally under a specific RPM, and probably needs replaced, but luckily it could wait until West Glacier.

As we were waiting, a gentleman by the name of Steve Hannah walked up to us, blown away by the coolness of the Pinzgauer. I was tired, beat up, and a little scared that the truck I had just spent a lot of money buying was already rattling itself apart. That attitude didn't last for long, as Steve bombarded us with compliments and positivity. In a kinda dark moment, Steve was the kick in the pants we needed. He told us that we gave him his biggest smile in five years, and kept exclaiming, 'Who does that?," but not in a condescending, parental, critical kind of way. His cries were those of someone who understood what we were doing, and loved it, but loved it in a way of just now realizing that a dream could come true. 

And so that's that. Our dream is to drive all over the place. We want to travel overland, for a long time, cheaply. We don't need a $350,000 EarthRoamer or custom Unimog. We need a sturdy truck and pocketful of dreams, and now we have both.

Give it all up and adventure all over the world. Who does that? We do, and so can you.