We are almost the only people we know who have never been to Mexico. Ever.
The first time we were headed down to Baja we ended up flying home for my dad’s last days. That was almost two years ago. The second time we were planning our winter with Baja in mind and our friends asked us if Portugal was an option…that was last year. A very good option.
This year we did it. Baja bound!
On Oct 25 the first snows were flying on Vancouver Island. The sleet, incentivizing with its stinging cold reality underlined our urgency for departure as we readied our trailer for another long-distance adventure. We booked it down the I5 to southern California with plans to cross the border through Mexicali East avoiding the truck crossing on the west side. Our membership with Harvest Hosts would provide us with many possibilities for a quiet stay within a few minutes of the highway. A homestead near Mt St Helens, a vineyard in Southern Oregon, a distillery in northern California and a church in Palm Desert.
We paid for an overnight at a kitschy “Buckaroo” RV park in El Centro so we could make an early jump over the border with the knowledge that driving after dark can be lethal.
There is so much information out there that helps us gringos but until you do it yourself, you really aren’t sure if you will be arrested, fined, helped or bribed. All the bad stuff stays forward in your brain. “Don’t drive at night as the cattle that hide during the day will be enjoying a rest on the warm road at night”. We had money stashed and carried a small amount of dinero in case a “federale” or some official decided we were fair game. We had a cooler with cold drinks and chocolate ready to offer any militaria who looked hot and tired in the middle of no where just doing their jobs. All these preparations and precautions are completed with an abundance of caution mostly motivated by the “don’t say we didn’t tell you so” syndrome. Who wants to be the naïve victim of throwing caution to the wind after all the horror stories. We like good planning! We had satellite photos of the border gleaned from other travelers with the office to get our tourist permit circled in blue and where to park in red. We had our Mexican insurance for car and trailer and proof of ownership papers, US dollars and Mexican Pesos. Check, check, check.
A cursory look inside our truck and trailer at customs and we were to proceed.
But first we missed the proper parking area as a gate was across the assumed route. So, we just pulled over on a curb that was painted red….no parking?
Then into the FMM office, where a very pleasant, helpful and courteous clerk made this unknown routine uneventful – we were out in about 10 minutes and on our way through the border town of Mexicali. Well, that was pretty painless. Breathe!!
Highway 5 from Mexicali to San Felipe is straight. Makes sense since it is dead flat. The Colorado River exits the land just off to the left while driving south. Once mighty, it created a large delta that is now a wildlife preserve. But the water management upstream has left a white sand desert with no obvious flora and fauna showing from the road. Lots of fence line and discarded tires. Wide open land and skyscape that meet in a murky white middle. There are small rocky outcrop mountain ranges, Sierras, poking out along the way to the west and once we were almost at San Felipe the rocky outcrops and dunes became more prevalent. In fact, directly west of San Felipe is the Baja’s highest mountain though not visible or easily accessible from SF.
San Felipe at the end of October, on a first impression has a crumbling almost dystopian aura about it. Stray dogs wander about, campgrounds are empty and crumbling from past hurricanes, buildings are being renovated or left to disintegrate. Examples of recent weather-related destruction are many. Thirteen months before we arrived a category 2 hurricane called Kay brought 15 inches of rain and 100 mph winds to the area. There are a few newer endeavors and some fresh paint on some of the buildings, but it feels forgotten. Where there are sidewalks, they are heaving or have turned to sand and dog feces is scattered liberally so staying alert on your route is important.
We stopped at one organized and recommended campground but after about 15 minutes no one approached us to inquire about our purpose there (I think we are hard to miss). No one around and the two long term seemingly deserted trailers on site had flat tires. Nope! The next two, with high recommendations on iOverlander, were out of town past the airport and closed.
Finally, we returned to town, saw a sign that said campground parking open, and we pulled in. Well, it wasn’t a campground. Probably a sign for the empty broken one next door… But the old fisherman who owned the house and all the apartments that the family lived in welcomed us to stay. It looked like they were amid constructing another four apartments and that they had a few apartments they rent under his abode. Albert negotiated a fee and use of the shower and toilets in one of the apartments.
There were two trailers and an old boat, some cars with flat tires and some baños with broken doors near the road but the house and buildings that were situated in San Felipe Bay on the Sea of Cortez were well kept, with large cacti, palm trees and flowers scattered about. The detritus near the road felt like a fence that recommends staying away. Our camping spot was a five-minute walk from the Malecón and sheltered from the wind with adequate shade during the heat of the day.
The Malecón is San Felipe’s jewel. A walkway full of restaurants and shops overlooking the sandy beach and oceanfront. There are hawkers selling hats, jewelry, and sunglasses. And at the end of October our thought was that there were an absence of tourists. We walked the length of it and decided to stop for our first taco and beer at the Taco Factory. The staff was so kind. I practiced what I could with my limited Duolingo Spanish lessons, and we managed to have delicious prawn tacos and a Tecate beer.
Between October 31 and November 2, Mexico celebrates Halloween, Day of the Dead (Dia de Muertos), All Saints Day and not sure what else. We arrived in time for the Dia de Muertos Nov 1 and 2, and Halloween and decided to stay for the Festival del Camarón on November 3. With parades daily (so we were told) Tuesday to Thursday honouring the dead and then the shrimp! A noble event for sure, we couldn’t resist the food related allure of this attraction. But we found only one parade (2 flatbed trucks and lots of families dressed to get candy) on Halloween and one shrine for Dia de Muertos at a big restaurant on the Malecón. No consecutive daily parades.
We found out the Halloween parade route passed by a burger restaurant that seemed to be a local gringo haunt. So, we plunked ourselves down at about 3:30pm and ordered our first Mexican margaritas. $115 pesos or about $9CAD our first sip said, out loud, that a second one would relieve you of your legs! So delicious and no crappy mix. This was all tequila, ice, fresh lime and either triple sec or syrup to sweeten slightly. The glasses were too big to lift so we sipped through the straw.
Along came the families with the costumed children. We noticed one expat man who seemed to know them all and he eventually came to sit with us. We told him he must be the mayor as he knew everyone. He and his wife moved from Las Vegas to Pete’s campground in San Felipe twelve years ago. He told us of a variety of expats who ran restaurants and a Saturday butcher shop in the area. The butcher, he said, was a Canadian who cut and sold enough meat to pay for his accommodation at Pete’s and his beloved ganja.
Al ordered us a second margarita. MISTAKE!
So delicious but on the short walk back to our trailer I missed a step and landed on my head. My eye had a big shiner and in the morning it was black. As soon as we were in the trailer, I sat down, fell back and lay there for at least an hour with a bag of frozen corn on my brow. Plus, I couldn’t move. Holy moly!! Albert made me a grilled cheese sandwich that I ate lying down. I had to keep my eyes closed for half of the sandwich. The second half I opened them and looked straight up at the ceiling. I was out like a light at 7pm. Won’t be making that mistake again!!! Albert was not affected the way I was. He managed to make dinner, go have a shower and downed a beer!!
Next day we headed out getting acclimatized to the systems for acquiring water, disposing of waste and checking out the “famous” beaches and cacti just south of town. And the gigantic Pelicans diving into the water!!
Our attempt at visiting the Valle de los Gigantes on a Wednesday failed. Ready with dinero to pay at the gate and walk in, we were confronted with a very locked barbed wire gate and no one around. The giant Seguaro cacti, commonly known as “Cardone”, beyond the gate are said stretch to 60 feet tall.
Our second attempt the next day…we were in a head spinning reality check. Thirty six degrees of blistering hot sun, sand, giant cactus, circling vultures, scurrying geckos, and a two-foot-tall desert hare were along our 5 k meandering hike. A week before we were in zero degree wet snow. We saw many cardones and they were impressive but we remained sceptical on any 60 footers. My eye was black and throbbing and knew the beach would be a lot cooler!
We tried to find out what San Felipe had going on but even the Tourist Info office had nothing. The town was beginning wake up and wash its face. The tents were being set up for the Shrimp festival on the weekend. Our camp spot was getting curtains on the baños (10 pesos), the sand was being swept, the floors in the casitas mopped and the old fisherman making sure we were leaving on Saturday as they had some people coming.
San Filipe’s big event is the Festival de Camarons – Shrimp Festival- November 3-5. Market tents and a stage were being constructed for the festivities on the Malecón. A midway with mini rides arrived and Mexican Carnees were showing up in big trucks and campers from Sinaloa and points east.
We heard about the shrimp fest in 2019 while in a laundromat in Borego Springs. Americans who winter in San Felipe had high praise for the event. We worked our San Felipe stay into 5 days to go to the festival. But we were getting discouraged at all of it. Every time we turned around, we were giving money on top of fees. Tip the gas jockey. Tip the guy who just shows up and starts polishing your car. Tip the servers. Tip the guy who puts purified water in the jugs. Tip the RV park that we dumped at. Tip the laundry. Tip the person cleaning the baños. Tip the grocery clerk. We were certainly learning to thank with more than just polite friendly gratitude. We strolled the Malecon while it was being set up.
On Nov 3, festival day!!, the tents were full of even more trinkets for sale than the abundance of touristy shops outside the Malecón. If the tents had been full of food to taste we would have been much more motivated to spend the evening. We bought some gorgeous fresh caught prawns (400 Pesos/kg) and avoided all the other stuff. Heading back to our trailer we noticed gates going up and realized that if we wanted to go in and buy stuff we would pay to play. The free event we had read about… We weren’t feeling it. Our hosts had filled the parking lot around our trailer with cars, two campers and a tent full of family camping on the beach. Tourist boats were dragging and dumping people out of floating islands. The music had started and so had the party. At 100Pesos each to go in we decided we would cook up some of our beautiful fresh prawns, sip a beer at the beach and get an early start. We were close enough to hear every syllable, trumpets bugling, accordion soloing, bongo rhythming and twanging guitars. It was refreshing to notice the festival was attracting local tourists and not the expats that suggested this to us in the first place. When the last song finished at 2:45am, we decided we were looking for a quiet spot about 2 hours out of town
Success. We landed at Punto Bufeo a few minutes north of Bahia de Gonzaga and have the place to ourselves.
The only noises are the schools of fish skirting across the water, the pelicans plopping into catch fish, fishermen working their nets and pit lamping, and constant waves, terns, and gulls.
There is a price for everything, and the bugs extracted their toll for this slice of heaven. But more on that in our next missive. Stay tuned. Hopefully Deb’s black eye will return to normal soon!!!
The Grape Escape 