March 20, 2017

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

March 20, 2017/ Christian Tuttle

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

March 13, 2017

Mexico, Part 11: Surfin' Safari on the East Cape

March 13, 2017/ Christian Tuttle

Camping on the East Cape

After leaving Santiago and Miraflores, we were a short drive from San Jose del Cabo. The greater Cabo area is where the Baja Peninsula ends - from here it's east to the East Cape or west to Cabo San Lucas and Todo Santos and then back up north. We had planned on some more beach camping, and the East Cape looked to be prime with public access arroyos and sand beaches.

We resupplied in San Jose del Cabo at the fantastic Mega supermarket…home of everything any American could ever want while in Mexico. While there we dined on some legit Chinese food. Chelsea and I were starved, and for $7USD we ate a lot of rice, egg rolls, fried pork, etc. (I lived in China for two years, and the food there is beyond amazing. Chinese food in the states isn't the same, primarily because OSHA won't let the cooks get their woks hot enough. Down in Mexico, however, folks are allowed to turn the propane way up, and darn near real Chinese food is the result.)

After the resupply we hit the road for the East Cape. The pavement soon ran out, and we slowly motored our way to an empty arroyo. Whales were swimming and breaching in the near distance, the view was fantastic, and the price was right. After setting up camp we began to diagnose what seemed to be a failing water pump in our camper - our water pressure was unusually weak and the pump was making far too much noise while in operation. Everything had to come out from under the bed to access the pump, and I had to get inverted in the small crawl space. We lowered the pump to help it access water, but to no avail. Stumped, we piled our gear back into the rig, assuming we'd be purchasing a new water pump in the near future.

We were joined that evening by Riley and his dogs Stinker and Stevie, three individuals that make quite a rag tag team of beach-dwelling travelers. Riley is a surfer and has about a million stories that all needed to be written down and published. Stevie the German shepherd is a dropout from police dog school - she's smart and she knows it and she doesn't care what you think. Stinker the Boston terrier is an intrepid adventurer who is unaware she lives with cerebral palsy. She goes anywhere Stevie goes, but a little slower, and at slightly more of a diagonal angle, because walking forward is tough.

That night Chelsea and I made bread, a large chunk of which we delivered to Riley. His appreciation was palpable, and we spent the next day snorkeling for lobsters, of which we found one. Riley added some steaks and we added some veggies for a proper beachside meal. Over drinks and meats we discussed the coming swell, and Riley convinced us to meet him at 9 Palms, a local beach down the road, to learn how to surf. He had a longboard that he had left in San Jose del Cabo, and he was willing to pick it up if I was willing learn to surf. This sounded like a great plan, so we headed back to the city to re-resupply and then back to the beach to settle in for a few days of surf and sun.

Attempting to diagnose a problem with our water pump. Working in the storage space is possible, but cramped.

Our first beach camp spot On the East Cape

Bread baking in the dutch oven, and water boiling in the old MSR pot.

Discussing Lobster and surf opportunites with RIley.

We only got one but it sure was pretty! Stevie was very interested.

Stinker the Boston terrier with cerebral palsy. Everywhere she went she kicked sand. Everywhere.

Riley, waiting for me to follow him out of the surf. I know it looks calm, but i just got beat down over a reef filled with sea urchins.

The mobus rays were jumping! they were pretty far out, but chels managed to get a shot of one that was semi decent.

Contemplating the next few days of surf-ability.

Teach a Man to Surf...

After the re-resupply we moved to 9 Palms, a known surf spot on the northern edge of a string of surf spots that dot the East Cape. We pulled into our spot near Riley, and set up camp. We put up a shade tarp, moved some unnecessary items to the front seats, and partially unpacked our storage compartments, freeing up access to the wetsuits and snorkels. In the process, I wanted to check the feed tubes for the water pump - I had a suspicion that one of the tubes was sealing around a wall of our water tank, creating a vacuum and placing undue strain on the pump. I wasn't too far from correct; while the tube was free and clear of the wall, it was the inline filter that was degrading and being sucked up into the tubes when the pump was pulling water. We flipped it around, reversing the flow of water through the filter, and got our pressure back! Thankfully, it meant we didn't need to order a new pump.

When we arrived, it was just Riley, Chris the full-time hermit/local, and ourselves, but that would change. The swell was one of the first of the season, and the greater Baja surfing community was well aware of its imminent arrival, so the beach blew up. First, Riley's close friend Mac showed up and camped with us, and then eventually the beach was lined with a few dozen trucks, vans, and rigs, many of which were jumping back and forth between the Pacific and the Sea of Cortez to chase the waves.

Riley graciously ran into town to fetch his longboard, an accessory of his trip that he'd chosen to ditch because he wasn't using it, as he mostly road his short board. He started with some lessons on the sand, specifically teaching me that the paddling position on the board was a key to standing up in the right spot, and that standing up didn't mean standing up - a crouched position to keep mass low was preferable.

As a trade, I taught Riley how to make and bake simple white bread. My ingredients are flour, sugar, salt, water, and instant yeast, and I do not measure anything, other than the yeast which is in a single use packet. While kneading, flour is added by feel until the right texture is achieved, then the dough is left to rise, then shaped and placed in a deep steel pan we use as a dutch oven. To bake, we pile coals between some rocks, then set the steel pan on the rocks, and cover the lid with coals. Coals are added as needed, and when the bread smells ready, looks ready, and feels ready, we eat it. We rarely have any left over, because bread should be eaten fresh.

Just two rigs on the beach for the first few days.

Riley ran back to town get his Longboard just for me! What a guy. Also, in this picture you can see what happens when you run your camper into a low roof.

Surfing was much drier than i thought it would be.

I'm killing it! Surfing is not that hard.

The bread after the second rise. I tend to let my breads rise twice.

Piling coals on top of the dutch oven pan.

More excellent steaks on an excellent Baja beach.

Surfing Safari

The surf picked up over the next few days, although to me it seemed inconsistent. Sometimes the swell would arrive a little more from the south, causing predictable waves to break over the reef. In these instances, a deep paddle channel existed that allowed surfers to paddle back into position. I would try to catch waves right on the shoulder of the deep water channel, mostly because I was afraid of eating a face full of rocks and sea urchins in the case of a fall. My plan worked great, until the swell decided to come in a little bit more from the east, and then the deep paddle channel turned into wave-break city, and my poor tired body would get tossed and buried in 5 foot waves. It was great. I temporarily quit after 3 days of trying.

All the while Chels was reading and lounging, Loulou was sleeping, Riley was coaching, and Stevie and Stinker were running around the beach like captains of their own paradise. I didn't feel bad for Stinker, she's got a great life and an owner that loves her and a big sister dog to watch out for her, but I couldn't help but feel something for the poor thing as she'd cut diagonally across the beach, looking forward but walking sideways, sand flying everywhere as her legs kicked with every step. She'd suffer through 7 or 8 seizures a day while we were on the beach, each one more heartbreaking than the last. She'd fall over, seize, then wrestle to get back up and limp out of sight trying as hard as she could to keep up with the other dogs, all the while our hearts breaking for her - then she'd come back, a big slice of white bread clutched in her mouth, a smile ear to ear after just raiding some neighbor's beach camp kitchen. Stinker, aptly named, needed no one to feel bad for her. I'll bet she's happier than you, and probably nearly as happy as Coco.

The swell came and the crowds came, and despite my initial worries that I would get in someone's way or spoil someone's wave, everyone was real nice and mostly left me alone. I was very thankful for the use of Riley's board, because a similar experience at a surf camp would have cost us a lot of money. In the end, it was great to get out on the water and try surfing once more. I had caught a baby wave or two while in Bali, but that barely counted as I had someone lining me up and pushing the board forward for me. In the end, I was beat, but I was happy I was beat and satisfied at my attempt. Surfing another day? Probably, but probably not on this trip, specifically.

Stevie looking adorable in her bow. It was a leash until she decided it was better as a scarf.

Stinker the dog who doesn't know she has a disability.

Stink resting after a big day. The Hammock is a 150 thread brazillian style sling woven by inmates in MerIda.

MAC'S RIG JOINING THE BEACH - ONLY THREE AT THIS POINT.

OSPREYS ARE ONE REASON WE DON'T LET LOULOU WANDER AROUND WITHOUT HUMAN SUPERVISION.

Trying my best to pose like a magazine model.

Watching other people catch waves I can't catch.

Tents and umbrellas took over and we eventually lost our view of the waves. You can see Little Foot tucked back in behind the crowds. (At least we had privacy in our spot.)

It was quite a pretty places to camp for a few days.

Most of the time, Loulou couldn't be bothered.

WE EVENTUALLY LEFT THE EAST CAPE BEHIND, AND... BEGAN HEADING NORTH??!?!?

March 06, 2017

Mexico, Part 10: The Fresh Springs of Sol de Mayo and the Boca de la Sierra

March 06, 2017/ Christian Tuttle

Sol de Mayo

Chelsea and I are suckers for natural springs. In the US, we loved the hot springs of Idaho and Colorado, but in Baja Sur the weather pushed us towards the natural fresh water springs of Sol de Mayo and Boca de la Sierra. These two springs are found on the eastern slope of the Sierra de la Laguna mountain range. They are served by the communities of Santiago and Miraflores respectively. There are some hot springs in the area as well, but the near tropical temperatures of Baja Sur had us sweating too much too seek out a hot soak.

Santiago is a small, beautiful community that boasts impressive agriculture for being in the middle of a desert. It is a true oasis, as you'll see from this blog's first photo. A large freshwater lagoon sits right at the center of the community.

Sol de Mayo, an eco-lodge offering casitas and camping, sits at the entrance to the canyon that is home to the springs. The site is popular with day users driving up from the Cabo area, so expect a crowd that thins out later in the day. The walk from the campground to the springs can't be more than a kilometer, but there is a steep section of stairs hewn from the rocky cliffside. Bring a bottle of water and a towel; you'll probably find you don't need much else.

The view of Santiago from the road to Sol de Mayo. A real oasis!

Commuter traffic on the way to the springs.

The main pool of the springs from above.

There are a handful of places to jump from, but swim in your landing zone before you launch to make sure it's deep enough!

Sun bathing on the warm rocks was as appealing as swimming.

Camping at Sol de Mayo was around $15USD a night, and that included spring access. We enjoyed our first day, then headed back to the rig for some reading and dinner. There were a few other campers at the spring, but not many. The facilities included a pit toilet that didn't smell at all and spring fed water spigots scattered around the parking lot. It is a simple, although relatively shadeless, affair.

The next morning we loaded up a backpack with some snacks and snorkeling gear and headed off on a small walk to some pools above the main pool and waterfall. The pools above the falls were more shallow but less crowded and we enjoyed the walk up the canyon. The whole area is rather accessible and a great spot for adventuring. We could have gone much further up the canyon, but decided to go swimming instead. After a few dips in the upper pools, we headed back to the main pool for a little snorkeling. After spotting a large, broad-headed snake swimming in the shallow reeds, we decided we'd had enough of the idyllic springs for one trip.

Loulou was disappointed that we didnt pack a book for her.

The cascading upper pools of Sol de Mayo.

Hiking with flippers through the desert.

The whole place felt very "jurassic park".

Chelsea's back was hurting, hence the lack of smile.

While beautiful, the upper pools were too shallow for much good swimming.

There wasn't much vertical gradient in the upper pools, so our raft stayed on Little Foot.

The view from the upper falls. I was told, and I agree, that jumping here is probably safe if you do it correctly, but I didn't try.

Chelsea kept yelling "NO!" (Chelsea here… I'm all for adventure, but sometimes taking risks that could cut your adventure short if there's an injury just isn't worth it!)

Boca de la Sierra

On our way to Miraflores, the gateway town of Boca de la Sierra, we crossed the Tropic of Cancer, officially putting us in the tropics! Finally, we had a way to rationalize the heat. The 23*26'13.4" was marked by a large globe, which was ripe for picture taking.

We had read that the springs at Boca de la Sierra were less developed, and therefore free. They were also unmarked, and we drove around the sleepy town looking for water while we roasted in the front cab of Little Foot. Sylvester, a fantastically generous local, flagged us down and explained that we could camp on his family's camping property by the springs. After many unsuccessful attempt to explain, and then draw the location of his camp, he offered to ride with us a few kilometers up a dirt road to the spot, and then walk back. We were floored, both by his property's location and by his generosity. We stayed on his land two nights, and he came to check in on us both days. Mexico is full of great people, and Sylvester is certainly one of them.

A last note on Sylvester: he's a successful but modest farmer. He has a family, he has a farm house, and he has fields that produce tomatoes and other crops. When we met him he was dressed in unassuming clothes fit for working on a farm, and when I met his wife the next day she was driving a 15 or 20 year-old SUV with peeling paint and signs of wear; a good vehicle but by no means showy. They are Mexico's middle class I assume, and Sylvester is rightfully proud of the fact that his crops are of export quality - most of his produce is bound for the US. While the success of any farmer is greatly decided by variables outside his control, be it rain or crop markets abroad, Sylvester is looking into the future with a furrowed brow. With imported Mexican goods facing increased tariffs in the US, Sylvester's crop prices may not be able to stay sustainable. It is important to remember that national choices can greatly impact others, and that all Americans are global citizens, whether we want to be or not.

The springs offered excellent swimming, fewer water moccasins, and almost no one else to spoil the spot's tranquility. One evening a group of young people arrived in a truck playing loud music. They walked down to our camp site, introduced themselves, offered us a beverage, offered us help and a tour of Cabo if we were ever in the area, wished us luck and blessings, then walked back to their truck, turned off their music, swam, and left peacefully. We love Mexico and we love Mexicans.

Chelsea touching a spot on a globe that many other people have also touched.

Sylvester helping us get to his family's camp…and commuter traffic.

A natural water slide that stained my board shorts with worm guts. Eww. (I'm still trying to get the stains out… - Chels) — A natural water slide that stained my board shorts with worm guts. Eww. (I'm *still* trying to get the stains out… - Chels)

The water was shallow, but refreshing at Boca de la Sierra.

A huge black snake? (No, just a water pipe!)

The spot was so good that we stayed for two nights.

Preparing a campfire to cook steak and veggies.

February 27, 2017

Mexico, Part 9: Nearly Deserted Road and Nearly Deserted Beaches

February 27, 2017/ Christian Tuttle

Nearly Deserted Roads

After leaving Agua Verde all four sets of couples (Jan and Diana, the Spaniards in the Windstar, Pablo and Anna, and ourselves) went separate ways at separate speeds. At Agua Verde, Mexico 1 cuts across the Baja Peninsula headed west, and very nearly hits the coast before turning southeast and heading back to the Sea of Cortez. Between the coasts we spent a few nights at an RV park to catch up on blog posts and enjoy some hot showers before hitting the road again. Leaving civilization, we had our eyes on a dirt road adventure along the Pacific Coast, but were turned back when the locals told us the road on our map didn’t actually exist.

We poked around unsuccessfully, looking for more adventurous side roads, but as the afternoon shadows grew longer we eventually settled on driving to a Pacific surf spot that was listed as a good area for free camping. 10km into a 20km drive down a sandy track, we gave up and stopped for the night. We weren’t going to surf at the beach, the road was deserted, the view was great, and there was no reason not to stop.

The next morning we enjoyed coffee while gazing out over the forest of cactus that laid like carpet over the rolling hills that lead down to the beach, nature’s hand only interrupted by the continuation of the sandy track that had led us to our impromptu, roadside camp spot. Everything was silent; we were alone, stillness laying ahead of us for miles to the sea, except for one tiny puff of dust that soon became a small cloud, and then a trail of flying dirt and diesel fumes furiously kicked up by nothing other than a green and silver Mitsubishi Delica! Pablo and Anna and their van La Cucaracha (of Viajeros4x4x4 fame) had found us again!

We flagged them down and exchanged pleasantries, and both agreed that the nature of Baja, for the traveler at least, is very much that of a town with a single street. We were separately headed for La Paz, the big port city in Southern Baja, and planned to meet up at a Tecolate beach, a popular free camping spot for long distance travelers, to celebrate Chelsea's birthday. The one-street-town nature of Baja had us accidentally bump into each other two more times before the beach. The Peninsula is small when it wants to be.

A beautiful sandy track surrounded by cactus.

Our lazy, halfway camping spot on the side of a road.

The forest of cactus that laid like carpet over the hills.

Testing the six wheel drive - front axle engaged (green lever), rear lockers engaged (middle yellow lever), and front locker engaged (far right yellow lever). Only test on soft straight roads!

Tecolate Beach

We didn’t really enjoy Tecolate beach, but we did enjoy the company we found. While we were there a strong norte, the northerly winds that ran Rod out of Agua Verde a day early, kicked up, throwing light silt into every crevasse of our rig, and rendering the shoreline unusable for swimming or relaxing. As we sought shelter from the wind we ran into our friends Dani and Kevin, the nice folks we met in Mulege, traveling in their Iveco Trakker with their dog Mali. Finding them made the windy beach more bearable. Eventually we met up with Pablo and Anna as well, and goofed around for Chelsea’s birthday, taking some funny photos in the operating but nearly deserted beachside restaurants.

Sunset at Tecolate with Mali, Dani and Kevin.

Tecolate restaurant deck. Half the restaurant was deck, the other half was a beached ship cememented into the ground. No joke.

Tecolate beach restaurants and Chels looking a little discouraged and windblown by the thwarted birthday beach day.

Nearly Deserted Beaches

The next day we shook off the night’s festivities and headed to a possibly deserted beach. We followed a windy road of immaculate asphalt out to some beaches just south of La Paz. La Cucaracha and Little Foot dove off the pavement and onto the dirt at the first possibility, a decision motivated by the hand of God more than the mind of man. We navigated a washed-out decent that caused some Japanese steel to meet some Mexican rock (the Austrian steel was unscathed) only to find a lonely little Volkswagen sedan and a helpless young man at the bottom of the hill, with the car backed up into a berm, and two wheels off the ground. God had sent us down the hill to perform a rescue!

The gentleman had been driving home from the beach the night before and took a wrong turn. As he nosed up to the hill we had just descended, he realized he had made a mistake. While attempting to make a three point turn, he reversed with too much enthusiasm and got stuck on the berm. He had been there all night! We broke out the shovels and muscles and dug him out, and after a short chat we realized that he knew our friend Mauricio (of @Ensenada fame), and the world of Baja got even smaller.

We spent two nights on the beach with Pablo and Anna. It was our first sighting of mobula rays breaching and splashing in the water, as if they were clapping with their entire body. Dolphins splashed in the distance, and a single lonely sea lion sat on a rock and sang to us for hours. Other highlights included baking bread over the campfire, and trying some of Pablo and Anna’s fantastic salted cod spread. There is a recipe he published in Overland Journal out there somewhere, and I’ll try to find it for you. We also collected and steamed crabs, continuing the theme of Pablo and I killing animals and eating them.

A rescue! I was hoping we would need to pull him out but four extra people pushing while Chels revved the gas was enough.

We were surrounded by 360° of beauty. That forest is huge cacti. — We were surrounded by 360° of beauty. That forest is huge cacti.

Prepping bread. We baked it in coals, not on the burner.

The beach, with some of the cleanest and clearest water we've seen yet.

Pablo and Anna brought a kayak from Ensenada and chased down some mobula rays.

A Bad Road and a Rocky Cove

After Leaving La Ventana and the comfort of a few days doing nothing on the beach, we set our eyes on more beach and more nothingness as Pablo and Anna headed inland. Our goal was a specific isolated rocky cove that had earned our friend Mauricio the cover shot of the 2016 Rovers North calendar. Two route options presented themselves: a short drive up and over the mountains that lay between us and our beach, or drive south around the mountains and then turn and drive back north again along the coast and through some small towns to our destination. The second option felt laborious and dull, but more importantly we have three locking differentials and nearly 35” mud terrain tires and we need reasons to use them. We filled our tanks and headed to the hills for what we thought would be a mild dirt road, After all, Google maps said we were only 56 minutes away!

What ensued was a stiff climb up a large hill that featured exposed cliffs, off camber turns, a handful of ledges, and loose granite scree. At times my navigator was crying, and at other times her terror rendered her mute, a silence that was quite unnerving. We parked in places to get out and walk, to scout lines, and to weigh options. We shoveled loose gravel into piles in hopes that some of the ledges would toss us a little less. Two hours of the drive was spent out of the vehicle. At times Loulou was even buckled in.

In the end it was a great drive, if a little jarring at times as Little Foot trundled down washed out slopes. Driving a challenging road with your home on the back of your truck definitely lowers your comfort level, but we made it, and the rocky cove was worth every tear and whimper.

We spent two days at the rocky cove, again doing not much. Highlights were reading books, snorkeling, and baking bread over the fire. Loulou chased hermit crabs on the rocks, which was probably a trip highlight for her. On the second day, Sabrina and Henning (of TrailGypsies fame) and Jan and Diana (of steffens.live fame) found us, driving up to the road we had just come down. They weren’t looking for us or the rocky cove and we hadn’t made plans to meet up, illustrating once again that Baja can be small when it wants to be.

While we were camped at the rocky cove Chelsea and I did a little unpacking of the rig, only to find that some moisture, likely sweat, had been trapped under our fantastic IKEA futon mattress and had started to mildew! Luckily we had the sun on our side, so out came the mattress to bake in the warmth after a thorough bleach-spray session as I fired up the drill and added some breather holes to the plywood that forms the base of our bed.

The problem of mold and mildew makes sense – mattresses need to breathe because we are wet, disgusting animals. While building out Little Foot in Montana we had toyed around with the idea of using a slatted platform to support the bed but had decided on a single sheet of plywood to help with weight, strength, and simplicity. I hadn’t really revisited the problem until now, and I expressed my woes to Henning, who promptly told me that they take their mattress out of their rig at least every few weeks, and drying mattresses is just part of extended car-based travel. I mention this only to show how helpful it can be to talk, at length, with other overlanders, or really anyone in your trade or niche activity. The BS sessions between overlanders aren’t just competitions or mental floss – often both parties gain valuable insights into the shared and unconventional lifestyle.

Parked in a good spot as we scouted and shoveled.

Loulou buckled in, and the rear diffs engaged!

One of a few spots we piled up rocks to limit Little Foots rolling.

Note from Chelsea: I took this photo after all the scary stuff was over. The technical section was so scary that the idea of taking photos or video just seemed wrong…if something truly bad had happened, I would've been racked with guilt over having … — Note from Chelsea: I took this photo after all the scary stuff was over. The technical section was so scary that the idea of taking photos or video just seemed wrong…if something truly bad had happened, I would've been racked with guilt over having been recording instead of helping. Instead, I walked ahead in the line where we had decided the driver's tire would be and used a walkie talkie to communicate any other directions Christian might need. I took this photo as Christian rounded a bend above the scary section to wait for me to run up and jump in. I'm including it to show the angle of Little Foot as it climbs around a slight curve. What scared me the most was being on sections of this road that were so narrow that when Little Foot would pitch like this, it was directly over a steep cliff. So, please take my word for it when I say, it felt much scarier than it looks!

The road was as beautiful as it was exciting.

The rocky cove at sunrise that earned Mauricio the cover of the Rovers North calendar.

Little Foot looks good from every angle…at least we think so…but we're a little biased!

Mold and mildew. More like mild-ewwwwww.

Planning my holes to add at least a little air flow. Don't worry…we thoroughly bleached and scrubbed all of this off.

Commuter traffic! Even the main paved roads aren't without obstacles!

Los Barriles

Los Barriles is a tourist town, end of sentence. Its been taken over by Americans and Canadians and has lost a lot of its Mexican charm. We ran into town only to seek out WiFi, update the blog, and run some errands. Otherwise, we stayed on yet another deserted beach and enjoyed more free camping, more fires, and more nothingness.

We were so turned off by the rampant Americanization of the town that we chose to avoid viewing the Superbowl. I really wanted to watch the Patriots, they are my team, but I just couldn't put up with the foreigner bars, and therefore I missed what my little brother told me was "The greatest game of football ever." Instead we found solace in our weekly Bible study, because Superbowl Sunday is still a Sunday!

Loulou: "Guys, maybe I can go for a swim?"

Many of our dinner are simply guacamole.

A beach well above Los Barriles, kitchen of course facing the ocean.

Our Sundays are always spent with a weekly podcast from Barabbas Road Church (Chels' old church in San Diego) that we follow along with while going verse-by-verse through the Bible.

February 20, 2017

Mexico, Part 8: Agua Verde and Life Off the Grid in the Secret Cove.

February 20, 2017/ Christian Tuttle

Agua Verde

After leaving Rattlesnake Beach, we bought provisions, filled our water and fuel tanks, and headed toward the fabled paradise of Agua Verde, an often-photographed beach/cove/fish camp that lies at the end of a dirt road. The dirt road has a reputation that changes with every traveler’s telling of their own story. Descriptions range from “totally doable,” to “tight and washed out hairpins,” to “a hellacious decent,” but all we really knew was that it was ~42 km of twists to the waypoint on our GPS marked “paraíso.”

The first 10km of the road off Mex1 is superb asphalt, sort of a trap for folks with big rigs and travel trailers. From there, the road degrades steadily, first to mediocre washboard, then to exposed single lane hairpins turns, then to rutted sand, and finally into a 50m long, 35° pitch of alternating gravel stair-step drops that leads you smack dab into the prettiest sand isthmus you’ve ever seen, complete with palm trees, a lone fishing shack, and turquoise water lapping at the beaches in front and behind a secluded camp spot.

At the transition from tar to dirt, Chels and I stopped to aired down the tires. While we were mussing about in the dirt, dropping the tires from 75psi to 35psi, what should pull up behind us but a white Toyota Tacoma closely followed by a gun metal grey Land Rover Defender; it was Sabrina and Henning of Trail Gypsies fame and Jan and Diana of Steffens.live fame! We were all going to the same place, so we switched on the walkie-talkies and caravanned down the road.

About 2/3rds of the way to our beach destination we spotted a small note, black indelible marker on white paper, taped to a kilometer marker that read,

“RESPECT THE CHICKEN”

Pablo and Anna, of Viajeros4x4x4 fame, had left Rattlesnake Beach a day before us, and we had planned to meet up at Agua Verde. They had left us a note referencing Pablo’s gentle criticism of my too-American method of grilling, a clue wrapped in an inside joke (see last week's post for a more detailed explanation). We were pretty sure our GPS waypoint was the same as theirs, as our mutual friend Mauricio (of @Ensenada fame) had given us the same set of highlights on our mapping app. We photographed the note, very excited that our friends were nearby, and continued onwards, one eye on the GPS, one on the bushes and signs and fence posts, looking for more clues.

The top of the road into Agua Verde. There is over 1200 feet oF descent between Mex1 and the beach.

That's the Trail Gypsies and Jan and Diana in the distance.

Little Foot posing with the others down below on the road to Agua Verde.

Catching up to the convoy after a photo opportunity.

The first of three signs telling us to "Respect the Chicken."

The second clue! Alas, we missed the third…at first.

Another photo opportunity as we waited for a car coming the other direction to pass us.

Agua Verde proper is a sandy isthmus strung between a rocky cliff and a rocky island, but a kilometer further down the road is a small fish camp and village, Puerto Agua Verde. Furthermore, the beaches lining the road in the 20 kilometers leading up to the isthmus all boast stupendous campsites adorned with waves of emerald and turquoise, so the entire region is kind of known as Agua Verde, at least to ignorant travelers. We knew the Viajeros could be camped anywhere, but we were half betting on them being camped on the isthmus. During our drive in, Chels and I spotted one more sign ordering us to “RESPECT THE CHICKEN”, but we also missed one and drove right past the Viajeros’ camp on our way to our intended destination.

As we descended onto the beach, still looking in vain for La Cucuracha and her inhabitants, we were faced with one last steep pitch. Chels jumped out to film as I engaged both the rear differential locks and the front axle, essentially making Little Foot a 6-wheel-drive beast. We dropped into our campsite without a problem, leveled out the rigs, and made dinner in near paradise.

We were still vexed by the lack of the Viajeros when we awoke the next day. Despite hikes to multiple viewpoints, as well as a tandem SUP mission to the village of Agua Verde on the advice from a morning hiker that there were two Spaniards in a van camped there (alas, it was the wrong set of Spaniards in a van!), the Viajeros remained hidden, the end of their trail of signs still a mystery.

The steep, gravel hill into the camp spot.

Loulou also likes to hang out by the fires.

A full view of the Agua Verde isthmus. It's a popular place for yachts, as well.

Exploring the beaches and looking for the Viajeros.

We found a beautiful fully empty beach with no road in that was also too shallow for boats. We did consider making a road...

The weather turned on the last morning and we headed out to Loreto.

Our time on the isthmus was limited – Chelsea had an appointment with Antonio back in Loreto for more back relief. We climbed out of our camp spot, again engaging Little Foot’s 5-wheel-drive, and started back on the road to civilization, with our eyes firmly glued to our rearview mirrors, searching for a clue we may have missed on the earlier drive. Low-and-behold, just a few kilometers up the road we found a brown paper note, half folded over, that read “Respect the LEFT Chicken.”

In our rush we had assumed the Viajeros would be on the isthmus, but they had turned early and headed down a dirt track to the beach. We followed the winding track and found Pablo and Anna camped on an idyllic beach (henceforth referred to as “the cove”) with the other set of Spaniards in a Ford Windstar, true shoestring overlanders. We exchanged pleasantries, and offered to resupply the Viajeros, which turned into resupplying three sets of couples (the Germans showed up right as we were pulling out) and forfeiting most of our clear water. We hustled off the beach, now late for our appointment, and headed back to Loreto for a night at an RV park and a large shopping trip.

It was an easy climb out, but we were prepared.

Another view of the isthmus, taken on the drive out.

The Viajeros found an excellent beach, but honestly, they are all excellent.

Weather moving in and out over the mountains.

Driving through Loreto, supplying up for a few more days on the beach.

The Secret Cove

We returned to the cove the next day, which also happened to be Anna’s birthday. Under secret orders from Pablo we brought back a birthday cake and a candle shaped like a question mark for the night’s festivities. The Windstar Spaniards had driven to the little fishing village of Agua Verde to secure a goat for the barbecue, which cost the group a grand total of $12.50 USD, cleaned, butchered, and ready to grill (yet another reason to love Mexico). A few of us searched for firewood as Jan and Diana setup their fancy hanging grill, and the birthday party was underway.

Pablo, ever the Argentinian, tended the fire and the grill, treating the recently deceased goat with great respect. Dinner and dessert was absolutely fantastic, and Anna was sung to by the world’s worst multi-lingual chorus, as God put on a show by lighting up the waves with neon blue iridescence. He gifted Anna with a tide of phosphorescent plankton, and we played around in the shallows, kicking and stomping and setting off miniature lightening storms that dissipated into a momentary parody of the night sky above our dancing heads, and then vanished into the nothingness of the gentle surf.

The bioluminsence on display at the cove on the evening of Anna's birthday.

Chel's feet and her Chacos, bathed in light from the sea. (Hey Chaco…sponsor us!!!)

Beauty and light pollution, reminding us we're not alone.

Pablo letting his Argentinian side come out!

Respecting the goat, insetad of the chicken.

Jan and Diana provided a really cool, packable hanging grill.

The next day our friend Rod and his two dogs arrived in his power boat, having motored all the way from Rattlesnake Beach to visit us. Northerly winds, "nortes" locally, can thrash the coast of the Sea of Cortez, so Rod planned his trip carefully and had to leave a little early to avoid rough seas on the voyage back to his winter camp. Between the winds, though, we got a calm day and he took Pablo and I out fishing, which was beautiful but fruitless.

In an attempt to provide dinner for everyone, Pablo, Jan, and myself went kayaking and snorkeling around a rocky point in search for what we thought were oysters, but may have actually been scallops. We tried to eat the beautiful things like oysters, but we kind of failed at that, and have since learned that (perhaps) we were supposed to clean and cook these specific shellfish. Whoops! No one got sick, but they were tough eating. Pablo also caught a fish in his homemade fishing net, and so that was served up for dinner over the fire.

At the end of a beautiful few days on the nearly deserted beach we packed up, and hit the road. Travel is fantastic, especially when you find a place that tempts you to quit traveling.