Oct 21 - Oct 27 : San Felipe, San Ignacio, Mulegé, Bahía de Concepción, Loreto (waiting for a green light)

SAN FELIPE (AKA THE SURFACE OF THE SUN)

On the last trip through Mexico we spent a few nights camped in the company of Eric and Brittany (and Caspian) of Hourless Life while we were in Isla Aguada, Campeche. We really appreciated their company, and through their travels they have cultivated both wisdom and knowledge, some of which they shared with us. Some lessons were direct and illuminative. For instance, if you designate one side of your rig as dirty and one as clean you can develop a flow of gear, which was a way of teaching us that organization is important. Some lessons were unspoken or implied. For instance, Eric’s reaction of laughter when we explained to him that we packed a stove that we couldn’t get fuel for, meaning we essentially had no way to cook or boil water, was a way of teaching us that we should have packed a proper kitchen. Some lessons were incredibly basic and yet so valuable, like checking weather every morning. Eric was on top of his weather forecasts, and his family’s route and even their angle of parking each night was dictated by staying in pockets of comfortable temperatures or which way the wind was going to be blowing. I reflected on this lesson that had obviously gone unlearnt as I drove my family out of the comfortable 70F temps of the Pacific coast and directly into 109F, surface-of-the-sun heat that was the Mexico 3 highway from Ensenada to San Felipe in mid October.

We blew past some of our prior stops, including Mike’s Sky Rancho, just trying our hardest to make it to San Felipe, where we were hoping it would cool off. We were incorrect, and the late afternoon sun roasted the van as we looked for a cheap place to stay. San Felipe is the northern end of the Sea of Cortez, and what should have been a brackish ecosystem where the Colorado river delta meets the sea was instead a barren field of dirty, dusty salt. The camps on the northern end of San Felipe didn’t appeal to us, as they were expensive and smelled like a dying ocean, so we headed south and found a small parking lot advertising camping, beach access, and showers. We tucked into the shade of a concrete brick wall, and melted out of the van and into the sea. Gracie was too hot to cause trouble, and so were the property’s dogs. We eventually learned that the “campground” was actually just the driveway of the owner’s in-laws, and while we felt safe, we also felt very on display, but we had paid the nice man nearly $30USD, so we weren’t going anywhere.

The next day we continued our attempt to escape the sun, a mostly impossible task in central Baja as there are beautiful mountains and beautiful cacti but not a lot of shade. We drove through Santa Rosalia almost by reflex - we had no desire to stop, but we couldn’t just drive past a place where we had made a memory and not look. The weather forecasted for the pacific side of the peninsula was much better than the east side, and the road was headed for Guerrero Negro, so we decided to make a pit stop there for some mariscos (seafood), in this case some ceviche tostadas and a pulpo cocktail. In the shade we gathered our wits, and decided to head to a favorite freshwater oasis, San Ignacio, for what would hopefully be a few days of comfortable weather and easy camping.

San Ignacio didn’t disappoint. We stopped first at the campground at the lagoon that we had visited six years prior. Some of our favorite photos of all time were taken there, with Chelsea’s late cat (turned poltergeist that has partially taken residence in Gracie because Gracie is somehow part cat) Loulou. We took some more great photos, continuing the trend because it’s easy to continue that trend at that campsite. We swam in a lagoon that was less clear than I remembered, made some delicious breakfast with some of Ricky’s thick cut, homemade peppered bacon and our Idaho neighbor’s homemade peach jam, and drove into town for snacks and WiFi at a cafe. We also found a cool little ice cream shop that had obviously been found many times before as evidenced by the volume of traveler and race team stickers on the outside. If you get a chance, visit Edson’s in the main square, they’ve got heaps of character and much more than just ice cream. The lagoon in San Ignacio is surrounded by date palms, so I recommend getting date anything while you are there.

We ended up switching campgrounds to a spot much closer to town that had ripping fast (Starlink) internet and really nice bathrooms. Everyone was happy: there was a giant lawn perfect for long disc throws for Gracie, shade of us all, room to do some yoga workouts, and a slight breeze in the shade to cool us all down. The only downside was that I left another one of Gracie’s discs at the original lagoon campground, and I had to run (yes run, it was an emergency) a mile in the heat of the day to rescue my dog’s best friend. It was worth it.

Gracie getting as close to the A/C as she could. Also, notice Chelsea’s swollen ankles, a byproduct of the steroids she’d been on for her back paired with sleeping in the passenger seat.

Dogs that were too hot to make trouble, and me checking the trans fluid level because Walter had just ahd a weird “hiccup” - more on that later.

ShaDE IN AN OVERPRICED “CAMPSOT” IN SAN FELIPE.

MAKING THE BEST OF IT WITH FRESH GUACAMOLE.

SAN IGNACIO

THE DRIVE TO BAJA SUR - SO HOT, BUT SO BEAUTIFUL.

AT THE STATE LINE, BUT THE ROAD CONTINUES.

WE HAD FOUND THE LAGOON CAMP SPOT, BUT IT WAS GATED. WHEN I FOUND A LOCAL TO ASK IF THE OWNER WAS AROUND, HE BROKE THE CHAIN FOR US, TOOK SOME MONEY, AND WALKED AWAY.

BACK AT SAN IGNACIO - NOTICE THE STUFFED GIRAfFE on the deck IN THE BOTTOM LEFT CORNER, GRACIE WAS NOT A FAN,

GOLDEN. HOUR.

CHELSEA IS A GREAT PHOTOGRAPHER BUT I THINK IT’S EASIER WHEN THE WOrLD AND THE SKY PLAY NICE. The Lagoon of SAN IGNACIO IS AN INCREDIBLY PHOTOGENIC CAMP SPOT.

COFFEE, COOKIES, AND FEELING LIKE WE’RE TRAVELING.

BREAKFAST AT SAN IGNACIO

EGGS, HOMEMADE THICK CUT PEPPERED BACON, AND TOAST WITH HOMEMADE PEACH JAM FROM our neighbor in DONNELLY, IDAHO.

GETTING SOME WIFI IN DOWNTOWN SAN IGNACIO.

THE OUTSIDE OF A COOL ICE CREAM PARLOR.

THE INSIDE OF A COOL ICE CREAM PARLOR.

ON A DINNER DATE IN THE SQUARE OF SAN IGNACIO.

GRACIE ACCOMPANIED US ON OUR DINNER DATE.

The community of San Ignacio is making efforts to recognize its traditional, pre-mission name of Kadakaaman.

At the second San Ignacio camp spot.

Shade, date palms, hot showers, and ripping fast WiFi.

Hot dogs for dinner! Street food = best food.

After San Ignacio it was on to Mulegé, another stop on the parade down memory lane. We stayed a night at what once was a campground full of travelers, and now seemed to be a retirement home for old white expats and snowbirds. When we had last been to the Huerto Don Chano RV park it was a lot more traveller and a lot less full-timer. When we got there this time most of the camp spots were obviously rented long-term, with uninhabited 5th wheels sitting shuttered, and Boston Whalers sitting trailered and ready to help over-fish the Sea of Cortez when the season got under way. Some spots had been leased and turned into casitas or full blown houses, and a handful of the established campers had chainlink fences securing their RVs, boats, and OHVs. Five o’clock came and went and no one sounded a conch to start a game of roving bocce. There were no overlanders from Europe taking refuge from their self-imposed pilgrimage, no Australians in a broken down school bus drinking away their problems. It was more evidence of change and change is neither good nor bad.

Chelsea and I went for walk down the tidal river outside the camp and watched pelicans hunt in the fading light, a sight that is quickly becoming a favorite of mine. They attack the water with such gusto and confidence, and they are not small birds. Their splashes are significant.

From Mulegé we moved on to Bahia de Concepción, and spent one terrible night camped in a beautiful place. The day had started out pretty well - we found the campground we wanted, it wasn’t overran with sprinters (yet), and we got there in the heat of the day, but were able to take refuge under our canopy and take swims in the ocean. Everything was going great…we even reconnected with some old acquaintances from the first trip, until I made the fateful decision to buy some lukewarm pizza out of the back of a minivan.

A pizzeria and bakery in town had loaded up some pizzas and drove down to the beaches to sell dinner as the sun set over the peninsula. I splurged on the last pie they had available, a loaded pepperoni and cheese, complete with a spicy mayonnaise. I immediately felt guilty, like I had taken the last opportunity to have this hot dinner, so I went around and offered some to our old artist acquaintances camped down the beach in their pristine golden 70’s Chevy van, and to the full-timers in the school bus next to us. Chelsea and I had a half pizza to satisfy us and some for left overs, and everyone was happy, until about 10pm, when Chelsea reported that nausea had set in. After a half hour of deliberating in the dark, the answer was clear: she was in for a fun night food poisoning, with little more than an overused pit toilet full of spiders, cockroaches and flies and a nearby steel trash barrel for her comfort. At least the moon was nearly full and there were dolphins playing in the bay for her to watch?

Pilfering the book swap at the campground. A lot of the books had water damage from the recent hurricane.

Sun set over the tidal river in Mulegé.

A photogenic crane in Mulegé

Pelicans in Mulegé

Seagulls, which aren’t as cool as pelicans in Mulegé. (And the splash from the pelicans in the background.)

BAHÍA DE CONCEPCIÓN

Back at the Bahia de Concepción, and walter is trying to fit in with the crowd.

Just a little seashore walk to strech out our backs and legs.

The Bahia de Concepción is part of the amazing midcoast of Baja’s sea of COrtez side.

The minivan pizza, bought from one minivan and ate at another.

The possible culprit to all of CHelsea’s woes.

Just hours before the illness set it.

Mulegé and the Bahia de Concepción were one-night stays, with Chelsea insisting on running water and a real toilet after her terrible night of food poisoning. We moved on to Loreto, making time down the peninsula on our way to La Paz to see some friends and catch the ferry. We had really liked Loreto the last time we were here, so we sought out our favorite RV park and stayed in the town. We had planned to only stay one night, until Walter the Delica developed a troubling transmission problem the next morning. He had had a couple of shifting “hiccups” here and there, low rpms, low speed, low throttle stuff. The problem that was rearing its ugly head was the same issue that we had at Gold Lake at the start of the trip, but now it wasn’t solving itself as readily as before. We doubled back to the RV park, paid for another night, and broke out the tools. Not really having any idea what I was doing, I put in a frantic call to Nomadic Van, the dealer and shop that had sold us the van. They offer a phone-a-mechanic product that lets you chat with their Delica specialist Rondo for a fee, and he pointed me in the right direction (or in a right direction). knowing that the culprit could be a throttle kick-down cable, I scoured the internet for assistance from the forums, and eventually adjusted what might be a worn out cable back into service. I am not entirely sure if solved the problem or just bought myself more time, but I certainly wouldn’t have known where to start without Rondo.

We were happy to stay in Loreto for another night, the town was preparing for Día de Los Muertos, the traditional day of the dead festivities that are more often being coupled with halloween-style parties to make for a big few days of revelry. It was a known comfort, and the town has great food and cool art and a charming square. We had been seeing some grass roots reporting out of La Paz showing some significant damage from Hurricane Norma, with videos of yachts destroyed in the harbor and coastal highways washed out or covered with sand/mud. The local authorities had even put out a message asking tourists to stay away for a few days, and the ferries that would take us to the mainland had been put on hold, anchoring out at sea to wait for the terminals to be cleared of debris. There hadn’t been an official "green light” given yet, but as the days wore on we were getting further from initial impact of the storm, and we were hoping time would heal any wounds pretty quickly. Sometimes you control the tempo of the trip, sometimes the tempo of the trip controls you, but no matter what, nothing gold can stay.

We’d been tasked by our friend Ashley in San Diego to find some pom-poms for her. This photo was our proof that we’d been successful.

Gracie meeting one of the locals.

Diagnosing in the shade.

Look at how happy I am removing van parts.

frantically googling answers on the Delica forums.

“This is overlanding…right?”

Best friends in Loreto. Not a care in the world as long as we have our disc and some scoops of food at the end of the day.

Getting an overpriced glass of wine at a touristy restaurant downtown with an underpriced serenade from some local musicians. Their performance was incredible. Truly.

Ending our night at a phenomenal hole-in-the-wall non-tourist-filled taco joint, where we discovered their specialty “Taco Yoshi”, which was a taco made from a “shell” of melted/grilled cheese.

Mexico, Part 15: Awaiting our part in Loreto

Waiting for Parts

After limping our way back to Loreto, stopping only for red lights and refusing to pull over to let traffic pass (sorry!), we strategically approached the RV park that would provide our safe haven for nearly a week as we awaited our part. Christian slipped Little Foot into low gear and  rolled slowly through a u-turn on a dead-end street as I hopped out and ran to the entrance, hastily explaining our situation before Christian arrived. Luckily, we knew the owner from our previous time spent there and she let us have the first spot available, which meant Christian could literally pull straight in.

We heaved a huge sigh of relief once we arrived, knowing we were settled until morning, when we rallied enough man-power to push Little Foot to the back where we’d be out of the way as a caravan of big-rigs arrived to take over the rest of the lot.

One of our favorite things about the Loreto RV park is that there is a beautiful common area, complete with a grill. During our time there we grilled out often, feeding not only ourselves but an array of fellow travelers, usually bicyclists and motorcyclists who would gather around to hang out as the food cooked. It was always a pleasure to entertain and it gave a sort of wonderful purpose to our nights there.

Our front and center spot when we first arrived. We quickly moved to the back of the lot, only to be parked in by a caravan of 19 big rigs.

Sitting in the common area at the RV park, enjoying the wait while our laundry hangs to dry.

Enjoying one of many beautiful sunsets while tucked away in the back.

Can't be upset about being stuck somewhere when there's a hotdog stand nearby!

One of many communal dinners at the RV park.

Loreto's beautiful downtown church.

Christian kept his mustache for a while.

Enjoying some very non-exceptional sushi in an exceptional location.

Killing time in Loreto

About every other day, I would walk to the house of Antonio, the local “healer” that had provided me with relief from my back pain. It was on the other side of town in the local area, where gringos aren’t usually seen walking around. I was taken by surprise one day by a gentleman yelling “Hola!! HOLA!!!” at me and running towards me as I walked. Preparing to apologize profusely for not being able to speak very good Spanish, the man quickly interrupted me saying, “Don’t worry! I speak English!” Relieved, I asked him if everything was ok. He then looked at me and said, “I came over here to ask YOU if everything was ok!” (I guess the sight of a limping American girl wandering the local side of town got him worried. After I explained that I was headed to my friend’s house and was in fact totally fine and not lost, he begged me to let him buy me a soda. If I hadn’t just split one with Christian shortly before the walk, I would’ve taken him up on the offer.

I wanted to share that story because so many people have expressed concern for our safety while in Mexico. In my lifetime, I’ve had two attempted muggings, had my car broken into and my iPod stolen, and found my car on cinderblocks with all four tires gone…ALL WHILE LIVING IN THE USA.

Here’s the thing: there are bad people everywhere. There is not a higher concentration of bad people in Mexico. However, there is a higher concentration of bad press about Mexico. No one is going to write a news article that gets circulated around Facebook about a random Mexican offering help and a soda to an American girl walking around his neighborhood. I am in fact more comfortable here than I have been in several cities we’ve traveled through in the US, and for good reason. The majority of the folks down here are grateful for the tourism industry and the revenue that brings to their towns. We’ve had countless people ask us if we’re enjoying ourselves and if we feel safe and how they can help. The locals are more helpful than most people we’ve encountered in the US because they’re genuinely happy we’re here.

Ok, rant over.

At Antonio's place, getting ready to get healed.

Antonio is a very gifted and self taught therapist, but at this point he was just treating pain, not the cause of the pain.

We spent our hours and days finding ways to fill the time, reading books from the RV park book exchange, visiting Antonio for pain treatment, making trips back and forth to the grocery store, etc. Even though Loreto is a highly walkable town, we had to limit our time wandering because of my ever persisting pain. It was becoming apparent that treating the pain was a very temporary solution and that we would soon need to address the bigger problem (though we still didn't know exactly what that was.)

In our time spent waiting for the part, we met a bunch of fellow travelers with cool rigs and stories. One was an ambulance, which is close to our heart since the Campbulance was our first conversion. Since Little Foot is often the most unique rig in a group, we're used to giving tours to everyone that wanders our direction with a curious look on their face. This means that we get to ask for tours in return and see how everyone's setups function differently and get ideas for how we want to change and adapt our own setup for the future. Nothing helps you brainstorm quite like seeing someone else's camper and picking their brain about their likes and dislikes.

Admiring a homemade sun shelter awning on a fellow traveler's rig.

We're always interested in an ambulance!

There were all sorts of rigs, and we gave many tours of Little Foot, so in turn we were given many tours of other rigs! It was fantastic.

Installing the part and hitting the road!

We had our part shipped down Baja using a service called Baja Pack. It's a delivery service that utilizes the bus system, saving both time and money because of its efficiency. Waiting on the part was only slightly frustrating, as it was scheduled to arrive either Saturday night or Sunday morning. The buses run seven days a week, but the office closed on Sundays. As our luck would have it, the part didn't arrive Saturday, so we spent another day sitting around waiting, knowing the part was behind the closed doors of the office.

Christian walked over first thing Monday morning to retrieve the package, determined to get the part installed and hit the road by the end of the day. Lucky us, it was there and as expected, the install was straight-forward and fairly quick. By the afternoon, we were hugging our new friends goodbye and crossing our fingers as we started Little Foot for the first time in a week.

Waiting for the part at Baja Pack. This parcel office was clear across town, but the walk was enjoyable everyday.

So... where is my part?

It arrived!

Clutch Master cylinder in hand!

The install of our new part was super fast.

Old parts out, new parts in.

Little Foot fired on the first try and as Christian depressed the clutch for the first time, he shouted with glee when we didn't hear brake fluid immediately rushing back into the master cylinder. The part had fixed the problem and we were clear to hit the road! We started driving north, skipping all the places we would've loved to stop and enjoy one last time. Our timeline was starting to get a little tight with the delay from our breakdown and we didn't want to risk not having plenty of time to spend in Ensenada before crossing the border. So, with a sigh, we kept driving, only stopping to camp and gas up, knowing we'll be back to enjoy Baja again someday.

So excited to be driving again.

Every bend in the road taunted and teased us. Every ebach deserved a week or two of camping.

We stopped at beaches we had been to before, knowing that we could camp easily and freely.

Putting the Sea of Cortez behind us.

Onwards, to Baja Norte.

Mexico, Part 14: La Paz, Carnaval, Whale Sharks and a failing Clutch Master Cylinder

Making it to La Paz

Our last post ended with us driving some sand track just north of Todos Santos with a failing clutch master cylinder. The signs and symptoms were as follows: the clutch pedal would depress and hold the clutch for about 1.5 seconds, and then the clutch would drop and violently reengage the flywheel, leaving the clutch pedal depressed, but with no feedback. We had rebuilt the clutch master cylinder in August in Montana just after purchasing Little Foot, and at the time I had noticed some pitting in the cylinder's wall. I knew that the pitting was bad, but because I was most of the way through the rebuild, I figured I would complete the job and see if the new rubber seals would hold. The seals held and continued to hold for 12,000kms, until the pitting caused enough damage to allow the brake fluid to bypass the rubber bits.

So there we were, on a sand track, trying desperately not to stop because starting from a standstill was violent, as I didn't have enough time to engage 1st (a locked, non-synchronized gear) and instead had to drop the clutch onto 2nd gear, which wasn't a pleasant affair. NEVER had I been happier about Little Foot's shift-on-the-fly low range gearbox, and his engage-on-the-fly locking differentials and 6 wheel drive. With four levers slamming back and forth we made it out of the sand that desperately wanted to drag us down.

We limped Little Foot to La Paz, stopping only a handful of times and taking every stop sign and traffic light at a rolling pace. We made it to La Paz, found an RV park that offered dry camping, and parked with a great deal of relief. We were in a paid parking spot, with water, wifi, and bathrooms, and that freed us up to diagnose. I was fairly certain our problem was the clutch master cylinder, but I called two experts in California just to get their input as well, and they agreed. My parts supplier (check them out, they are AWESOME for UniMog, Pinz, and GWagen sales, supplies, and support: expeditionimports.com) had a new master cylinder in stock, which was excellent, but it was all the way in California, and between me and it lay a national border. Shipping, even just to Baja, was going to be a pain (because of customs), so we spent many hours calling in many favors, especially from our friend Mauricio and his business partner Scotty. I recognize that the write up of all this seems pretty straight forward, but trust me, it was a maelstrom of international calls and multi-lingual texts.

All the while, we had begun to develop neighbors in our secluded dry-camping area. The rest of the RV park was fairly well packed with cookie-cutter big-rigs, but soon the dry camping area filled out with the coolest rigs around. Strange birds of a feather follow the same rules as the rest of the flock! First, a newer Land Cruiser pulled up with a mostly stock body, save for its pop-top roof. Its inhabitants turned out to be German and Austrian, with one of them being from the Pinzgauer region of Austria! What luck! I asked her if she had any spare Pinzgauer parts, but alas, she did not. Next, Christa and Johan, whom we had met in Todos Santos, arrived in their older Land Cruiser outfitted with an AlphaCab camper box. They are Swiss, which means Johan is a veteran of mandatory military service and trained in Pinzgauers back in the day. Lastly, another Swiss gentleman showed up in his Hyundai 4WD van, who also trained in Pinzgauers! We were surrounded by people who knew that choosing to travel, or even drive, in a Pinzgauer was a crazy and borderline bad idea. (As evidence, when we first met Johan and Christa on the streets of Todos Santos we introduced ourselves as the drivers of the Pinzgauer they had seen rolling around, to which Johan replied, "AH! So you're the masochists!")

Surrounded by Europeans who knew better than to buy a Pinz!

Down time at the rv park meant it was a good time to catch up on our blog posts.

Our plea!

I took the time to check the valves while parked - i like to do it at every oil change - and while I was at it I taught some other travelers how to use a feeler gauge.

Chelsea went swimming with whale sharks as I rotated tires! Division of labor!

Whale Sharks

(Chelsea here…I'm writing this section since Christian wasn't there!)

While Christian stayed back at the truck trying to get the ball rolling on getting our part and rotating the tires, I got to tag along with the Swiss/German bunch to go swim with whale sharks. It was the one big thing I'd had my heart set on doing while we were down in Baja, and when our clutch started going between Todos Santos and La Paz, Christian broke the news to me that it likely wouldn't happen. Lucky us, the amazing folks parked around us had arranged a group trip together and I was able to tag along to fulfill my dream.

The boat they'd booked was small and intimate, perfect for our group of six. As we motored out to the bay, breaking down only once, we changed into our wet suits and got our snorkel gear and GoPros ready. It's a very laid-back process, with several boats communicating by radio to let the captains know where the whale sharks are located. The boats then circle around, trawling slowly to keep up with the ever-moving creatures. Each load of people takes a turn, jumping into the water with fanfare when the captain says "go." The water fills with splashing and fumbling snorkelers, all vying for an up close and personal glimpse of the massive creature, all the while, the whale shark continues swimming, unfazed by the clamor around it. When the crowd tires and the whale shark disappears into the murky turquoise, the swimmers return to their boat and the next boat gets in place to drop its eager visitors into the water.

Being with such a small group was a huge bonus, as it meant we weren't fighting each other to get close to the whale shark. The water was just murky enough to make it difficult to discern which direction to go once in the water. I had a very difficult time managing the waves that were splashing into my snorkel and choking me with saltwater. After a few minutes of this, I became a bit jumbled and turned around, so I had to stop, reach up and empty my snorkel to continue. With the situation under control, I dunked back under the water, only to reel back in surprise that I was directly above the whale shark we'd been pursuing. In my struggle, I hadn't noticed the giant creature heading my way right before I'd gone above water. They'd warned us not to touch the whale sharks, which I respected, as I'm of the opinion that we're messing with their environment enough just swimming around them. I was so close, I actually had to make a concerted effort to not disturb the beast or graze its flesh. I floated there, holding my breath, as the form moved swiftly and gracefully below me, very barely missing me with its giant tail fin as it continued into the depths.

The GoPro I was haphazardly swinging around in my right hand caught the shadow of the head before it swung with me above water, then, after capturing my choking escapade, it picked up the moment I dunked back in. Full disclosure…I'm not very good with a GoPro. I'm a photographer by career, but I tend to get shaky, blurry and poorly framed content whenever I use a GoPro. Luckily, I was videoing, so at least I got something, but the quality is lacking. Apologies ahead of time for the crooked photos!

I tired out fairly quickly, as kicking and swimming were pure torture on my back. We had jumped into the water a total of four times and in addition to being above the whale shark once, a second time had enabled me to swim right beside it for quite a while, getting a wonderful glimpse of the giant creature. As the rest of the group continued their pursuit, I climbed back into the boat, satisfied with my experience.

Underwater selfie!

The image my GoPro saw that I didn't, right before I pulled it up to adjust my snorkel.

The moment I put my head and GoPro back underwater, I was greeted with a close encounter!

As you can see, I was inches from the whale shark. I this shot, you can see the scarred fin, likely caused from rubbing on the bottom of a boat.

A good shot for size reference.

This time I swam beside the whale shark, not above.

Climbing back in with fins and a bum back was difficult!

Getting towed back to the dock!

Carnaval

We arrived in La Paz on a Friday afternoon, after my specialty parts shop in US was already closed, so we had to wait the entire weekend before even confirming that they had the part in stock. Saturday was spent diagnosing, Sunday doing our Bible study and twiddling our thumbs, Monday calling frantically... the days extended longer than I wanted, but it gave us yet another chance to slow down. We've been perfecting the art of slow travel since 2014, and God keeps giving us chances to slow down even more. Carnaval extended all weekend, and we visited the malacon to see the parade on Monday, the night it was closing down. The food was out of this world, with many stalls offering many unhealthy foods. Available were churros, tacos, hot cakes, hot dogs, breads and candies of every sort - think state fair food, but dirt cheap and way better.

The parade was great. Many, many floats, some amateur and some professional blared traditional Mexican, pop, and Mexican pop. Many floats were produced and staffed by local dance schools, meaning that the every float had every kind of person, and every kind of body dancing away to the music. None of the standard beauty-pageant-only attitude - everyone was welcome. One float, our favorite, was created by a local school for disabled children, which made us love the inclusion and think of our amazing nephew Paxton. 

Speaking of the little dude Paxton, Wednesday of that week was World Rare Disease Day! So, in honor of my inspirational nephew Paxton, I shaved an inspirational mustache into my face. The next day we left La Paz, under our own power but not happy about it. The clutch master cylinder was working well enough to drive, but it wasn't a sustainable action. We set our eyes on Loreto (a favorite Baja city of ours…and the location of the one person who'd been able to give Chels pain relief for her back), and at the encouragement of Johan and Christa, and at the discouragement of Little Foot, we drove on, north into Baja, intent on making it to Loreto to await our part.

The scene at the malacon for the parade.

Considering hot dogs. Hot dogs considered.

The parade route was also the party route. But the party was really, really family friendly.

Oh yes. Yes please.

Fried bananas.

Fried bananas. (Techincally, they're plantains…but they're awesome and very similar to bananas. - Chels)

Sun setting on a parade.

The float of kiddos with disabilites!

Street art in La Paz.

World Rare Disease Day mustache!

Johan and Christa cheering us on.

On the road and shifting as little as possible, and definitely not stopping.

Mexico, Part 13: Todos Santos, Sea Turtles and a Fellow Pinzgauer Nut!

Heading South One Last Time

After Pablo and Anna's presentation at La Ventanna we headed south one last time. We hadn't seen Todos Santos, and many people told us it was a cool, artsy town with a lot to offer. I'd had experiences in both the US, China, and Indonesia that led me to believe that "artsy" was a clever cover for tourist trap, but there was a turtle sanctuary nearby that Chelsea desperately wanted to visit, so we went. Who can say no to baby sea turtles? Surely, not us.

On our way we drove right past a beautiful mission in El Triunfo, and had to stop. There are many neglected missions off the beaten path in Baja, old Spanish missions well on their way to becoming earth again, but there also roadside churches that have been given new paint and longer lives, and while perhaps they lack some of the "authenticity" of a ruined structure that has been untouched for centuries, the maintained beauty is no less striking.

The mission at El Triunfo.

Inside the mission at El Triunfo, holes in the roof let speckled sunlight in.

Many of the living missions we have been to on this trip exhibit breathtaking wooden ceilings. 

Outside the mission at El Triunfo in the afternoon light.

Todos Santos

We made it to Todos Santos later than we wanted to, but had a pretty good line on some free camping. We found a deserted beach a few miles out of town, crawled out onto the sand, and parked for the evening. In the morning we were greeted by gently crashing surf and limited visibility. We were back on the Pacific!

The turtle sanctuary releases baby turtles on a nightly basis during their hatching season, but all the releases happen at sunset, so we had a full day to play around in Todos Santos. The town is touristy - after all it is only a short drive from Cabo San Lucas - but not terribly so. There are very few overt tourist traps. Instead, the town offers a handful of legitimate art galleries, and some very nice handicraft stores. Foreign style bakeries and coffee shops are everywhere, but if you leave the main drag you'll find little taco stands offering killer carnitas and chicharrones and that's where the locals are. All in all it's a nice blend of tourist, gringo, and local. A cute, artsy town that has sold out a little to the white folks, but hasn't lost it's own flavor and identity.

Morning fog moving in to envelop us.

Flags flying over the streets of Todos Santos.

A magnificent bench in a coffee shop.

Peering into one of the many open workshop galleries in Todos Santos.

One of the many handicraft stores in the town center.

Some beautiful street art in Todos Santos.

Wanted: Turtles, Dead or Alive

After spending the day waiting for sunset, we headed out to the turtle sanctuary, which turned out to be a simple greenhouse structure surrounded by a chain link fence. Inside the green house are piles of sand, decorated with little signs bearing some vital statistics, and surrounded by their own little chain link fences. And under those piles of sand lay many, many hundreds of sea turtle eggs.

Turtle sanctuary volunteers collect the shells from sea turtle nests during the laying season, and re-bury them in the protected green house. Months later, when the eggs are hatching, the volunteers dig them up and release them into the sea. This practice keeps the eggs safe from a big threat: humans with trucks. A truck or possibly even a motorcycle bombing down the beach runs a big risk of crushing whole nests.

We were very excited to see the turtles, but, alas, the turtles were not excited to see us. The volunteers dug up about 100 empty turtle shells, the equivalent of 100 still-born turtles. According to the nice volunteers, this could have been because the mother's age (immature or too mature) or perhaps bad health. But, they told us there might be more eggs tomorrow. Most of the crowd was dejected, but we had the freedom of the road on our side, and decided to camp in the parking lot and wait for another day. We camped, spent another day wandering Todos Santos, found more cool arts and crafts, and ate more killer chicharones and waited for more sea turtles.

The sea turtle sancutary was a simple affair.

"See this here? It is a blue line. And this? This is another line, but it is red," said Christian, as he explained the graph.

The greenhouse structure acts as a large, passive incubator.

Volunteers removing eggs from the soft sand.

Chelsea trying to get a good shot.

All of the infertile eggs were removed, incase some turtles were trapped at the bottom.

Over 100 empty eggs.

Our parking spot became a magnificent camping spot. The photo below is what I was capturing.

A pano of Chelsea taking a photo of me, taking a pano of her! Magic!

Some of the handicrafts being made in Todos Santos.

Real exquisite stuff. 

It was difficult to not take one home with us, but our home is so small!

The next evening was a busy evening at the turtle sanctuary. Perhaps it was just the rhythm of the tourists, or maybe everyone who was let down the night before came back with more friends to check out the event, but either way there were many more people at the sanctuary. The volunteers do a great job of taking care of the baby turtles, and they told us a little about what was going on, but it was very apparent that public education was not their purpose.

A large bowl of maybe a dozen sea turtles was laid out on the sand, having been dug up earlier in the day. Small, white, American children immediately surrounded the bowl, and stayed there for over an hour, initially interested in the little aquatic dinosaurs that time forgot, but eventually losing interest and fighting over the use of their parent's iPhones. Out of a crowd of over 50 people, eight or so children dominated any viewing space of the turtles. Older children (as in, older than nine years of age), teenagers, honeymooners, parents, and the elderly were all kept away, and kept silent, by the very powerful hesitation to criticize both someone else's child and someone else's parenting.

Chelsea and I both really love seeing kids get out into nature and learn about the beauty of this world. As a raft guide and an educator, I understand the value of hands-on, experiential learning. Young children should have the first and best chance to see stuff like baby sea turtles, but not the only chance. Everyone wanted to be a part of the moment with the critters, and the moment stretched for over an hour, but because some of the parents (we're not talking about you, Danny and Kassie) refused to see the world past their children, a lot of folks were left out. Parents: your kids are the center of your world, but they are not the center of mine. Please be considerate.

Eventually we peeled away a few of the children from the bucket, and Chelsea got to take a few photos of the turtles, but we were already bitter and the magic of the experience was fairly well ruined. We watched the volunteers release the turtles into the sea, and it was actually kind of funny to see the little sea turtles get battered by the large surf, and struggle to get into the ocean. Actually, it wasn't funny to see that, it was scary and heartbreaking, but it was funny to see the cookie-cutter tourists realize that the world isn't perfect.

Chels, getting pushed even further back by the crowd of mothers edging in to make sure their child gets a front-row seat.

Sea turtles surrounded by an impenetrable wall of six year olds. The wall didn't move for over an hour.

I'm sure parents would have started glaring had Chels stayed too long in the "circle of children."

The critters were quite adorable.

Many people didn't have a chance to observe the beautiful creatures because a few parents wouldn't move their kids.

I WANT OUT.

Being a baby sea turtle is super tough.

Releasing the turtles into the surf.

Their journey was just begining. The dots are baby sea turtles.

Getting ready to do battle with the surf.

Nothing beats watching baby turtles crawl into the sunset with 50+ other tourists!

During the two days that we spent killing time in Todos Santos and waiting for sunsets, we were parked on the side of a busy street, using the shade of a tree as a sort of "day camp" as we wandered the town. We spent a lot of time looking at art, window shopping, and writing blogs, but we also spent a lot of time sitting in or near Little Foot, and we had many, many visitors. One such visitor was Mr. John Brown, the owner and operator of Shut Up Frank's, a popular local restaurant and watering hole. He was very much unlike all the other gringos on the street that stopped and gawked at our rig. He knew all about Pinzgauers - he was once a Pinzgauer owner, just like us!

John Brown is one of those guys that found paradise at the right moment. Now he is a Todos Santos local with an amazing spot right on the beach at a secluded surf break. He made the right move at the right time, and he's got a thing for cars as well. At one point, there were 14 vehicles on the property, including a Pinzgauer 710M, the 4x4 soft top model. He showed us around his property, which is mostly mangrove and a few small houses. We "helped" him clear a few items out of his storage container, including a few Pinzgauer manuals and two aluminum water tanks that we're planning on bringing back to our friend Mauricio in Ensenada. Meeting John Brown was great, and I kept asking him, "Please, stop living my dream."

We left John Brown to keep living his dream on the beaches of Todos Santos, and chose a dirt road that looked like it would take us through a ghost town and out to the highway, instead of returning through town. It was all fun and games being back on a dirt road in nowhere, until our clutch started acting funky! More on that, next time.

John Brown has a thing for cars.

Walking through the Mangroves to his house for a property tour.

John is a successful guy with a simple beach house. No need for extravagance.

Leading the way to the Storage Shed.

Pinz stuff! Gold!

Driving on a beautiful sandy road without much of a clutch! 

Mexico, Part 12: Meeting up with Pablo and Anna in La Ventana

For a couple of weeks we had known that our friends Pablo and Anna (of Viajeros4x4x4 fame) were scheduled to give a presentation at a kiteboarding camp in La Ventana, a town 150 kilometers north of the San Jose del Cabo/East Cape area. We were a little torn about the option of tracking down the traveling Spaniards. On one hand, we really enjoy Pablo and Anna's company, we love hearing their stories, and time spent with them usually produces valuable lessons. On the other hand, we had already been to La Ventana, it wasn't on our planned route back, and we wanted to head to Todos Santos, which was on the opposite side of the peninsula. After some hemming and hawing, we decided to track down our favorite heroes and go support them at their talk.

We spent a night at a campground while en route to the presentation, and made time for a little Sunday morning Bible study before continuing on to our destination. Arriving in La Ventana, we still didn't know how we would find our heroes in the town, as it was mostly made of winding back roads and beach encampments that resembled refugee camps for surfers. We were parked, using some free wifi, when out of nowhere the bedraggled purr of a Japanese turbo diesel alerted us to their presence. We didn't need to find them, they found us! There are many benefits to owning a highly recognizable vehicle.

We followed Pablo and Anna to Baja Joe's, a multi-service, multi-purpose beach resort in downtown La Ventana. Baja Joe's is part hotel, part cafe, part bar, part kite school, and most importantly, part community meeting place. Pablo and Anna had met and subsequently been adopted by Kevin, a Canadian who blurs the lines of gringo and local, and he set up the lecture with the folks at Baja Joe's. Kevin's connection with Pablo and Anna? He's a Mitsubishi Delica owner as well. Remember what I said about highly recognizable rigs?

Pablo and Anna packed the open air cafe and bar with their lecture/talk/slideshow. They presented 17 years of excellent pictures, and talked the audience through the successes, failures, and adventures of their life on the road. Folks were engaged, and many questions were asked and they were all answered. We felt like the event was part lecture and part stage show, as Pablo and Anna have an amazing rapport, especially considering the talk was given in their second language. We assumed they had given talks very similar to this in the past, as a some of their dialogue was so quick it felt practiced, but they told us later that it was the first of this kind that they had delivered. I suppose their stage presence is a byproduct of travel, produced in the white-hot cruicble of the cockpit of La Cucuracha.

Studying the Bible while Loulou considers her escape.

Did they see us yet? Maybe they didn't see us. Maybe we can still escape.

Pablo and Anna preparing for their talk, and mostly waiting for the sun to go down so the projector could be useful.

Pablo and Anna packed the house at Baja Joe's!

The next day we spent the morning looking for a mechanic's garage to perform an oil change on Little Foot. We had the filter, and we had the oil, and we had the wrenches, but we needed the bucket! We don't carry an oil pan with us because oil pans are dirty and oily, so we had to search one out, as well as some uninhabited dirt upon which to do the work. My timing on the oil change was a little early, but I had been unable to find an SAE30 oil in Baja, and Little Foot likes to burn and leak a little oil, so we were running low. Most stores carry 20w50, and Little Foot is happy with that, so a preemptive oil change let me relax knowing that surplus oil is available at nearly every corner store.

After the oil change we went for a walk on a short trail that boasted interpretive and educational signs describing the local desert flora. Rumor has it that the very American upgrades to the town, including this nature walk and the local maze of mountain biking trails, were products of generosity from Alice Walton, Sam Walton's daughter. Possible!

The nature/interpretive trail was fantastic. Usually the desert brush surrounding the large cacti is so dense and unforgiving that folks don't get a chance to walk through the dry forests. In La Ventana, the trail winds through a stark, beautiful grove of cacti, some over 20 feet tall. Small signs gave us a little information about the local plants, their flowering and fruiting seasons, and common uses.

Changing the oil at a closed tire shop.

Petting the cactus!

Checking out some of the interpretive signs on the nature trail.

A close up of a cactus.

Some of the cacti were just huge, with many limbs.

Kevin, the Canadian local/gringo that was hosting Pablo and Anna, extended his hospitality to us as well, and we spent a couple nights camped out in his driveway. He's an avid kite surfer, and loves to instruct and talk shop about the sport, although he'll tell you he doesn't know how to teach someone to ride. We had a chance to head out to a local beach while the wind was up to learn how to fly a trainer kite, the first step to kite surfing.

We watched some folks launch from the beach, and got a general idea of the basic maneuvers of the sport. The kites, which vary in size from 6 meters to 13 meters, are super powerful - there is a lot of air being caught by the kite structure, and a 10 meter wing can easily pull a human through the water. Kevin taught us how to lay our lines for a kite, go through a pre-flight check, and prepare the inflatable structures of the kite's wing. It was a real day of learning! Eventually he launched for a ride, and we got to play around with the tiny-by-comparison trainer kite. 

Generally it took two people to launch the trainer kite, and one to fly. Once up, the rainbow wing required constant attention, needing to be powered and de-powered to maintain a stable rhythm of arcs through the air. Too much turn one way, or too little power at the wrong moment sent the nylon wing plummeting to the sand, and the helpers sprinting out to the beach to relaunch.

The whole experience was fantastic - just flying a kite is great fun, and Kevin's friend had developed a two part control bar that made flying a small kite more difficult. You'll see it in some photos - the bar furthest from the harness is the standard bar, and bar closest to the harness was added later as an auxiliary bar, and interacts with the main control bar through two rubber bands. Essentially, the auxiliary control bar adds a degree of lag to flying the trainer kite. Its like driving a car with lots of play in the steering wheel.

In addition to flying the kite, Chelsea and I got to ride in La Cucuracha on the way to the beach! And we got use the van's best party piece - the stand-through expedition-worthy sun roof! It was excellent.

Riding in La Cucuracha.

Expedition worthy sun roof!

Sun roof beach action!

Watching a kite surfer body drag before standing up on his board.

Kevin, describing the basics of flying a kite.

Laying out the lines on the trainer kite is as important as laying out the lines on a big kite.

Attaching the harness to Pablo.

PRETTY RAINBOW KITE!!!

Anna and I preparing to launch the kite for Pablo.

Difficulty launching. At this point, the little wing is alive with power.

Kevin teaching me about the basics of preparing an inflated kite.

Fixing... something.

Pablo with his hands on the auxillary control bar, which slows down the control of the kite.

Pablo, launching the kite for me all by himself.

Pablo and Anna launching the trainer kite for me.

Chelsea flying the trainer using the main bar.

Chelsea flying one-handed on the auxillary bar! Look at the girl go!

Still flying one-handed on the lower bar. The is an advanced beginner move, made easier if you bite your tongue.

We celebrated our successful day of beach flying with some fish frying! There was one shop in town with fresh-ish fish, and Kevin bought a bunch of sea bass to batter and pan fry for the whole family. His hospitality was absolutely incredible, and he just wouldn't let us leave the next day without putting us on his paddle boards for a morning ride. The wind had kicked up by the time we launched and we barely had to paddle as we were pushed downwind to our destination.

By the end of the few days in La Ventana, we were quite happy that we had chosen to track down Pablo and Anna once again. The town, while gringo-heavy, is a fantastic destination in Baja, and definetly worth the attention of anyone remotely insterested in wind sports.

A rare dual-Delica shot.

Paddling on our last morning in town.

We couldn't stand as the wind was too high! We were being blown way too fast while standing, so kneeling it was for our downwind paddle.