Part 2: Rough Roads

The Road Out of Loreto

We had planned to stay one more day in idyllic San Basilio, but were running low on food. We packed up our camp in the morning and said a reluctant goodbye to the ospreys and pelicans.

There won't be many photos in this next part. You will learn why presently.

It wasn't far to Loreto.  We stayed in a decent hotel, got cleaned up and went to an excellent Uruguayan restaurant called Mezzaluna that does handmade pasta. The next day we kayaked over to Isla Coronado, then had lunch at one of our favourite places, La Picazon, near our launch site on the way back to town.

Before heading south about 30K to Tripui, where John had us booked at the hotel for a few days, we watched the Dia de la Revolucion parade through downtown Loreto. Proud children showing off their respect for the community. This lovely town, with its old mission and artisan shops and scenic malecon, is growing and looking even better than the last time we were here. There are several new stores and more paved streets. I think it's my favourite town in Baja.

There weren't many other guests at the hotel in Tripui. It's a sprawling resort with a pool and restaurant, near Puerto Escondido--where all the gringos moor their boats. We enjoyed the convivial attention of the staff. Each late afternoon a row of tall palms against the backdrop of the mountains became a rookery for two dozen turkey vultures. An employee whacked the trunks of the palms every morning to chase away the precariously perched spooks.

Deep, narrow Ligui Canyon 

A frog in the stream

The main event for us while at Tripui was a day hike in the fabulous Ligui Canyon, a hard-to-find and unexpected flowing stream in the desert. It's a micro-climate with different plant and animal species, including frogs.

Moon above the Sierra la Giganta mountains near Tripui

Then our road trip had a big bump. On a drive to check out various beaches north of Tripui and go out to Thanksgiving dinner at our beloved clam shack at Vista al Mar, one of our nearly new tires blew out. We got a warning from the tire pressure monitor John installed, but in seconds it was flat, the side ruptured, unfixable. Fortunately it happened on the main highway with plenty of room to pull over, and near a town with major llantera services. This was the second defective tire on our new Subaru. Arg. The tiny spare is only meant for limping to a tire dealer.

The problem with new vehicles like ours: for proper balance and performance, all the tires must be the same. Our brand was not available in Mexico. So we decided to buy 4 new, stronger tires--a two day ordeal that required having them delivered from La Paz. In hindsight it was fortunate. For one thing, they were much cheaper here. Plus, we needed more rugged tires for what lie ahead. If we had been forced to buy tires in the place where we were headed next, which we undoubtedly would have, well, we might still be there.

After several hours delay in Loreto dealing with tires, it was Thanksgiving dinner with 'almejas naturales' and grilled fish

The Road to San Evaristo

Heading south out of Tripui you climb into the cardon forests of the Sierra la Giganta mountains. Eventually you descend to the flat agricultural plains of Cuidad Insurgentes and Ciudad Constitucion. These are the last two towns of any size until La Paz. We did a week's worth of food shopping then turned off Highway 1 and headed east on a straight washboard dirt road toward the gulf.

After about 30 miles you begin climbing again into the southern Gigantas and come to one of the old missions of the El Camino Real at San Luis Gonzaga. Most of the buildings of this mission, built in the early 1700s, are now picturesque ruins.

An ancient mission wall

It was here we first encountered a bicyclist from Alberta, Canada--Derrick. He was biking the back roads of Baja with surprisingly little gear--no side bags, no tent, only a couple of litres of water per day. A very amiable guy, clad in spandex and Ray-Bans, who was apparently fluent in Spanish and relied on the kindness of strangers in each tiny rancho and villa he powered through.

John and I camped that evening off the road not far out of San Luis Gonzaga and had an excellent cook-stove meal--crispy chicken thighs and Trader-Joe lentil curry. We sat out under the stars, overhearing the music of nearby vaqueros, and smelling their campfires. We weren't in a hurry to get started in the morning. We noticed Derrick's bike tire prints in the dust of the road. He had passed us sometime around dusk and must have arisen early because it was many miles before we caught up with him. He said he planned to make it all the way to San Evaristo that day. We thought he was insane. He thought we were very slow, and we were. Our goal wasn't so ambitious.

Our track at this point may have suited an X-treme cyclist, but it was tough even with an all-wheel drive, high clearance, low-geared vehicle, especially since we were paranoid about damaging our tires in the wilderness. In between two long, incredibly scenic mountain ridges was a presa (dam), a university field station, a shallow stream teeming with bird, fish, and amphibian life, and a couple of ranchos dominated by an old hilltop church at Los Animas.

Then the road got really bad. Just after La Soledad on the way to San Evaristo the surface was mostly grapefruit sized rocks or bigger, with steep inclines and abrupt edges. As we started up we considered turning around. I frequently had to get out ahead of the Forester and roll away rocks that would have scraped our underside. At one sheer, slidy point, John stopped the car and said, "If we go down that, we're not coming back." I convinced him we could make it, which we did. It was a great relief to descend from the last summit and camp at a large palapa perched high above the sea. What a spectacular view. There was still some difficulty ahead, but the worst was over.

After witnessing a gorgeous sunrise over the Sea of Cortez we crept down the mountain into the fishing village of San Evaristo. And who should we run into just leaving town but Derrick. He had passed us again in the early evening and negotiated dinner and a beer at San E's only 'cafe,' a private residence where the host could be persuaded to provide a meal. Derrick said not to expect much in the way of services there. We explored the settlement a bit, then headed south looking for the beach we planned to occupy for the next few days. We never saw Derrick again, but we found Bahia de Los Colores.

The next few days were paradise. Kayaking, snorkeling, eating fresh uni, studying the evening movements of hermit crabs. Looking at Venus before dawn through the spotting scope we saw it was a crescent. I tell you, there is something about tall cactuses and stars that evoke a primordial memory.

The cliffs near San Evaristo are layers of green and pink rock. The beach at Los Colores is strewn with coral.

Coral banded beach
White capped waves, pink and green cliffs
Orange streaked sky at dawn

For our last camping meal I made a beef soup that was quite good. I used a package of spicy beef jerky for the base, re-hydrated and slowly simmered, then added our remaining onion, celery, and carrot. The bees, who had slowly discovered our camp as a source of fresh water, were the only irritation at this lovely spot. We were sad to leave.

Rough Roads in  La Paz

The next day's 50 mile drive got progressively easier as we neared La Paz. When we travelled this road a couple of years ago I remembered it as much more hazardous, with rock slides and the windy sea threatening to wash it away. But compared to what we had driven into San Evaristo, it was viento en popa.

We checked into a newly remodeled hotel in La Paz, washed off the dust, and went to dinner at Nim, our favourite upscale restaurant, to celebrate my birthday. The next day we would take possession of a casita in El Centenario for 6 weeks. With our kayaks on the car and our BC license plates, Saturday morning we parked at one of the big box stores to do a major food shopping.

We didn't pay much attention to the car that pulled in next to us. The guy got out and appeared to be talking on his cell phone. I pushed the button on my car key to lock the vehicle and then, just to be sure, pushed the lock button again before we walked into the store.

An hour later when John opened the car to load our groceries, he realized there was more space than there should have been. We had been robbed. Our luggage was gone. And the one time we didn't take our passports and other ID, they were gone, too. The worst loss was John's computer along with all his stored photos. Most of our clothes were taken and a few electronic items. We were devastated. When the police arrived, they noticed our car had been tagged with a star drawn in the dust on the driver's side door. There was no damage from the break-in, so we figured the thief had one of those devices that used the signal from our car key to unlock it.

Tagged for a break-in

We spent 3 hours at the police station filling out a report with the help of an interpreter. Luckily, we took our phones with us into the store (as well as our cash, other cards, and John's camera), so we had the ability to set up a wi-fi hot spot and with my computer managed to get online quickly, change our bank account passwords and cancel the cards we believed were missing. Later that evening we got a call from the store's security. They had found our passports and other ID on the ground in the parking lot. One good bit of news.

Still, the next few days were stressful as the trauma sunk in. There was $1500 worth of fraud charges on a card from the one bank I couldn't contact over the weekend. We were covered and got that money back, but instead relaxing that first week in La Paz, we were calling banks, setting up security freezes on our credit, and having to replace clothes and other items.

Everyone we encountered in La Paz who heard our sad tale was sorry and upset. They all told us, yes, this town used to be very safe, but it is getting bigger and more prone to urban crime. We were grateful to settle in to our lovely casita a few kilometres outside the city and take our kayaks off the car so we weren't such a glaring target.

Later that week there was a major rain storm that wreaked havoc on the local dirt roads. Huge muddy puddles would take several days to evaporate. Winter road crews continue to grate and repair damaged surfaces. And the adventure continues. It gets better.