My Journal/Story: Spring 2016 Baja trip

[Danmark]

I'll share my trip of there's any interest. No problem if this gets moved to RR or anywhere else more appropriate, like the trash.

Episode 1

Sunday, March 13, 2016
Ensenada to Puerto Santo Tomas

Long day. Finally got packed up and provisioned, except for ice, water, and propane. Decided to get it on my way out of town. My propane tank was on fumes; almost forgot, then saw a spot when I was 20 km out of town; filled it for 140 pesos, about $8.00. At about 47 km mark, South of Ensenada turned at the poorly marked sign for la Bocana. Glad I’d spent so much time on Google Earth, because despite no signage after the turnoff, it looked familiar.

There are bad roads and there are worse. This was a great road in the sense of being navigable. Except for a couple spots it would be passable, even after the rains. But it is hard. It is unforgiving. There is no speed at which portions are not bone jarring, at least without burning out a clutch… and mine is on the cusp of incineration. I think some paint bounced loose and I expected the rattling windows to crack. It would be perfect for a GS.

“18 miles� stuck in my memory as the length of this road. I was soon trying to remember it as “18 kilometers.� But miles it was and miles I had to go. It got better as it went on and there were a couple stretches I was able to go 25 or 30 mph, but 15 was the norm. The 18 miles took 5 or 10 minutes less than an hour. No traffic, except a couple horsemen and two trucks coming my way.

The beauty of the scenery was ample compensation. Mile after mile of high green hills, green fields of what looked like romaine lettuce, but wasn’t. The verdant valley compressed, then expanded in irregular intervals until suddenly, ahead was the dazzling white surf framed by dark green hills. The road ran on to a terrace overlooking the broad sandy mouth of the river to the left. I stopped to walk a bit to see which way to turn. When I got back to the truck there was another small red pickup, with an appropriate winch mounted in the front. Two young ladies, one a beautiful Japanese looking Mexicana stood by their truck. She was waiting for her boyfriend who was riding his 3 wheeler on the beach. They couldn’t help with directions because it was their first time here. We laughed that they’d taken that ‘horrible’ road, just for the weekend and had to return for work Monday.

I took the more promising of what looked like roads (turned out to be the only road) and soon was greeted by the beautiful stretch of the shallow bay leading to the ‘resort,’ Puerto Santo Tomas, North of la Bocana. I’d studied photos so much, it was obvious what I was looking at, but it was so much more beautiful than the photos. Half way along I stopped to visit with some Mexicans at an encampment, getting information about the area and the road to Bahia Soledad, which was about 5 km back the way I’d come and marked by two black plastic ‘things.’

We had a fun visit. I turned down a Tecate because I had more exploring to do and had decided to spend the night at the ‘resort.’ They were a curious mix of folks, old and young, bi-lingual, Spanish only speakers and two silent 15 year olds who, I was told, spoke only English. On the way out, I asked their Uncle (no older than they), and the only one who was truly bi-lingual,
“So, how bad IS my Spanish?� He smiled and said, “Pretty bad.�

On another km or two to the gates of the resort. Lining the beach/cliffside were a few fishermen’s shacks with boats, one blocking the road slightly. I stopped. A sign, “Camino Termina� greeted me. I got out and approached the apparently deserted resort, ‘Puerto Santo Tomas,’ guarded by a gate. A series of ‘Holas!’ and ‘Hellos!’ produced nothing, but eventually, Hector showed up. I needed to have him open the gate, just so I could turn around. $25 a night to camp so I told him I’d just turn around and go to Bahia Soledad. $20 was offered, + internet, showers and toilets. Deal. He helped me move the intruding boat. Later I learned the shower was only cold water, but didn’t mind. I also learned the internet would cost extra for more than a minute to just send a message. This is because power is very limited, being dependent entirely on a small solar array.

Then Hector asked if I had any beer, wine, or tequila. ‘Does the Pope celebrate mass?’ I thought. “Does a lawyer talk? Am I a weisenheimer? Does a drunk like me have beer and tequila?� Of course he does. Hector smiled broadly and told me my internet would be free.

He showed up at my campsite just before dark and we waxed philosophical long after dark sharing my 90 peso [$5.30 USD] 1.75 liter bottle of ‘El Compadre, 100% de agave.’ I gave him an icy cold can of ‘Tecate Light’ for his return to his security rounds.

Just sitting here in the dark, alone, looking up at Orion, the perfect crescent moon, and the icy white surf in the moonlight, I realized I haven’t been this happy since sitting alone at anchor in a quiet cove in Desolation Sound.

[Divine Insight]

The beauty of the scenery was ample compensation.

I though you were going to SHARE your trip? A picture would have been nice.

Two young ladies, one a beautiful Japanese looking Mexicana stood by their truck.

Picture?

I took the more promising of what looked like roads (turned out to be the only road) and soon was greeted by the beautiful stretch of the shallow bay leading to the ‘resort,’ Puerto Santo Tomas, North of la Bocana.

Picture?

On another km or two to the gates of the resort. Lining the beach/cliffside were a few fishermen’s shacks with boats, one blocking the road slightly. I stopped. A sign, “Camino Termina� greeted me.

Picture of the sign?

This is because power is very limited, being dependent entirely on a small solar array.

Picture of the motel and solar array?

He showed up at my campsite just before dark and we waxed philosophical long after dark sharing my 90 peso [$5.30 USD] 1.75 liter bottle of ‘El Compadre, 100% de agave.’ I gave him an icy cold can of ‘Tecate Light’ for his return to his security rounds.

Picture of the campsite and beverage containers in the light of the campfire flames?

Just sitting here in the dark, alone, looking up at Orion, the perfect crescent moon, and the icy white surf in the moonlight, I realized I haven’t been this happy since sitting alone at anchor in a quiet cove in Desolation Sound.

Picture of your blissful smile?

Did you take a camera with you?

Sounds nice but I can't see a thing.

[Danmark]

The beauty of the scenery was ample compensation.

I though you were going to SHARE your trip? A picture would have been nice.

Two young ladies, one a beautiful Japanese looking Mexicana stood by their truck.

Picture?

I took the more promising of what looked like roads (turned out to be the only road) and soon was greeted by the beautiful stretch of the shallow bay leading to the ‘resort,’ Puerto Santo Tomas, North of la Bocana.

Picture?

On another km or two to the gates of the resort. Lining the beach/cliffside were a few fishermen’s shacks with boats, one blocking the road slightly. I stopped. A sign, “Camino Termina� greeted me.

Picture of the sign?

This is because power is very limited, being dependent entirely on a small solar array.

Picture of the motel and solar array?

He showed up at my campsite just before dark and we waxed philosophical long after dark sharing my 90 peso [$5.30 USD] 1.75 liter bottle of ‘El Compadre, 100% de agave.’ I gave him an icy cold can of ‘Tecate Light’ for his return to his security rounds.

Picture of the campsite and beverage containers in the light of the campfire flames?

Just sitting here in the dark, alone, looking up at Orion, the perfect crescent moon, and the icy white surf in the moonlight, I realized I haven’t been this happy since sitting alone at anchor in a quiet cove in Desolation Sound.

Picture of your blissful smile?

Did you take a camera with you?

Sounds nice but I can't see a thing.

Teach me how to post photos here, or ... I'll pm you. Yes, I've got pictures, but I was working on drawing pictures with words. It may be a lost art. Critique of the writing itself will be grudgingly appreciated.

[Divine Insight]

The writing was fine. And I did conjure up my own imaginary scenes. They were beautiful.

I would have liked to have seen the beautiful Japanese looking Mexicana gal though.

[Danmark]

The writing was fine. And I did conjure up my own imaginary scenes. They were beautiful.

I would have liked to have seen the beautiful Japanese looking Mexicana gal though.

Me too. Didn't take her photo. My wife might misunderstand.

[Clownboat]

I'll share my trip of there's any interest. No problem if this gets moved to RR or anywhere else more appropriate, like the trash.

Episode 1

Sunday, March 13, 2016
Ensenada to Puerto Santo Tomas

Long day. Finally got packed up and provisioned, except for ice, water, and propane. Decided to get it on my way out of town. My propane tank was on fumes; almost forgot, then saw a spot when I was 20 km out of town; filled it for 140 pesos, about $8.00. At about 47 km mark, South of Ensenada turned at the poorly marked sign for la Bocana. Glad I’d spent so much time on Google Earth, because despite no signage after the turnoff, it looked familiar.

There are bad roads and there are worse. This was a great road in the sense of being navigable. Except for a couple spots it would be passable, even after the rains. But it is hard. It is unforgiving. There is no speed at which portions are not bone jarring, at least without burning out a clutch… and mine is on the cusp of incineration. I think some paint bounced loose and I expected the rattling windows to crack. It would be perfect for a GS.

“18 miles� stuck in my memory as the length of this road. I was soon trying to remember it as “18 kilometers.� But miles it was and miles I had to go. It got better as it went on and there were a couple stretches I was able to go 25 or 30 mph, but 15 was the norm. The 18 miles took 5 or 10 minutes less than an hour. No traffic, except a couple horsemen and two trucks coming my way.

The beauty of the scenery was ample compensation. Mile after mile of high green hills, green fields of what looked like romaine lettuce, but wasn’t. The verdant valley compressed, then expanded in irregular intervals until suddenly, ahead was the dazzling white surf framed by dark green hills. The road ran on to a terrace overlooking the broad sandy mouth of the river to the left. I stopped to walk a bit to see which way to turn. When I got back to the truck there was another small red pickup, with an appropriate winch mounted in the front. Two young ladies, one a beautiful Japanese looking Mexicana stood by their truck. She was waiting for her boyfriend who was riding his 3 wheeler on the beach. They couldn’t help with directions because it was their first time here. We laughed that they’d taken that ‘horrible’ road, just for the weekend and had to return for work Monday.

I took the more promising of what looked like roads (turned out to be the only road) and soon was greeted by the beautiful stretch of the shallow bay leading to the ‘resort,’ Puerto Santo Tomas, North of la Bocana. I’d studied photos so much, it was obvious what I was looking at, but it was so much more beautiful than the photos. Half way along I stopped to visit with some Mexicans at an encampment, getting information about the area and the road to Bahia Soledad, which was about 5 km back the way I’d come and marked by two black plastic ‘things.’

We had a fun visit. I turned down a Tecate because I had more exploring to do and had decided to spend the night at the ‘resort.’ They were a curious mix of folks, old and young, bi-lingual, Spanish only speakers and two silent 15 year olds who, I was told, spoke only English. On the way out, I asked their Uncle (no older than they), and the only one who was truly bi-lingual,
“So, how bad IS my Spanish?� He smiled and said, “Pretty bad.�

On another km or two to the gates of the resort. Lining the beach/cliffside were a few fishermen’s shacks with boats, one blocking the road slightly. I stopped. A sign, “Camino Termina� greeted me. I got out and approached the apparently deserted resort, ‘Puerto Santo Tomas,’ guarded by a gate. A series of ‘Holas!’ and ‘Hellos!’ produced nothing, but eventually, Hector showed up. I needed to have him open the gate, just so I could turn around. $25 a night to camp so I told him I’d just turn around and go to Bahia Soledad. $20 was offered, + internet, showers and toilets. Deal. He helped me move the intruding boat. Later I learned the shower was only cold water, but didn’t mind. I also learned the internet would cost extra for more than a minute to just send a message. This is because power is very limited, being dependent entirely on a small solar array.

Then Hector asked if I had any beer, wine, or tequila. ‘Does the Pope celebrate mass?’ I thought. “Does a lawyer talk? Am I a weisenheimer? Does a drunk like me have beer and tequila?� Of course he does. Hector smiled broadly and told me my internet would be free.

He showed up at my campsite just before dark and we waxed philosophical long after dark sharing my 90 peso [$5.30 USD] 1.75 liter bottle of ‘El Compadre, 100% de agave.’ I gave him an icy cold can of ‘Tecate Light’ for his return to his security rounds.

Just sitting here in the dark, alone, looking up at Orion, the perfect crescent moon, and the icy white surf in the moonlight, I realized I haven’t been this happy since sitting alone at anchor in a quiet cove in Desolation Sound.

Well told!
Thanks.

[Danmark]

Monday, March 14, 2016, Episode 2
Efficiency

'Efficienceness is next to godliness' in the Illiterate Boy’s Scout Manual.

I take some pride in inventing and employing small efficiencies, like pouring my morning milk into a coffee mug, then using the residue of milk as my coffee creamer in the same cup. Saves washing two cups, saves on the number of times the milk has to be retrieved, opened and poured, saves on stirring the milk.
Efficiency is a must for camping, particularly camping off the grid where water and energy must be conserved. One pan meals and use of a pressure cooker are examples.
To the unpracticed eye, Photo ‘A,’ which may or may not be attached, displays an object which appears to be merely ‘washing on a clothesline.’ This conclusion is incorrect. What you see is a combination air filtration, air-conditioning and laundry drying system. The keys to a good. efficient system include reliability, easy maintenance, ease and cost of part replacement. Another key is a cheap and reliable power supply. For this system in its current location the power supply is both cheap and reliable; however, I have’t yet figured out how to regulate it.
Moments after the photo was taken one of the key component parts went ‘off line,’ soiled itself, and shut down the air conditioner as well.

[For photos and more, send a PM]

[Danmark]

Tuesday, March 15, 2016
Notes, Part I
Puerto Santo Tomas to Bahia Soledad

‘Winston,’ I’ll call him, came by at noon. He’s 6’ 4� within a year of my age, bald with gray mutton chops, beard and mustache. He seemed in no hurry and we visited until I wondered when we would hit the road for his place.
I’d just had an hour’s notice when I finally checked my email, but I was packed and ready to follow. Said goodbye to Dan, Kirsten & John, gave Hector a small tip and was on my way. He asked, “When you come back.� I didn’t know.
I’d wondered why Winston would make the trip from S Cal, just to show me the road. I found out. The cutoff to the ‘road’ to Bahia Soledad wasn’t so hard to find, if you knew the mileage from la Bocana. But having the conviction to take the unmarked turn and persevere without certainty would have been another thing altogether. The little ship ‘Stealth’ barely stayed together as it pitched and yawed simultaneously on a rutted road that went up grades where all I could see was sky. 4WD in ‘Lo’ was a must.
Even following Winston, who stopped for me at crucial spots, I still blew the final turn to entry to his property and had to back up the trailer 40 yards. At times the road is overgrown and seems to disappear entirely. Had to back down another narrow pass down his ‘driveway’ because of an acute entry angle and no place to turn around.
Winston and I were apparently, as Groucho said, ‘vaccinated with a phonograph needle.’ He’s a talker too, and _I_ was the one [trust me dear reader] to get us back on track. At any rate we’re kindred spirits who each thought the other was doing the greater favor.
Before I’d set up camp and and discovered the interior disaster of the trailer, an unhappy looking Mexicano about 50 approached us. Valentin was carrying a machete....
[to be continued]