Coleen's Web Page

Day 1
Los Angeles to San Quintin
(373 miles; 11 hours 12 minutes)

We left Los Angeles at 5:30 a.m. on Feb. 23, groggy but happy to finally be on our big Baja adventure. The Hummer was packed pretty much to the gills, but we did fit an amazing amount of stuff in and on top of it. The weather was rainy and cold. We kept chasing a sunny spot, this elusive break in the clouds, the entire way to San Quintin. We'd be just about to reach the break, when one of us got hungry, had to make a pit stop, or we needed to refuel. Then suddenly the storm would bear down on us again.

We ate at Denny's north of the border, for a "real" American meal before we left the U.S. At the Mexican border we got a green light, which meant our car wouldn't be searched by immigracion officials, and then we pulled over to get our tourist cards. Our luck turned as we ended up in line right behind a tour bus full of 60 people. Fortunately they let us go ahead, because it was taking about 5 minutes per person and we could have been there for hours. We zipped in and out with Dad's preplanned and prepaid tourist cards.

Then we were on our way. We drove through Tijuana without a pit stop, but stopped at Las Rosas resort and spa on the coast in northern Ensenada. A beautiful place in every detail. We ordered a pot of coffee and watched the storm overtake us. Rain fell hard, and wind whipped up the Pacific. Steam billowed out of the jacuzzi, and even the tranquil pool looked perturbed. We used the facilities and left. Dad logged this stop, as he would every single one, in his Baja Escape binder.

Just south of Ensenada, we stopped once again. We couldn't quite gorge ourselves to satisfaction with the Balance bars, macadamia nuts and pistachios that Pam packed for us, though we tried hard. So we stopped at Mariscos Sinaloaense (Seafood Sinaloa style), a quaint roadside restaurant. It was so cold we could see our breath on the air. We had almost outrun the storm but of course it caught up while we ate our camarones and pescado cooked in butter and garlic. We took our first photo of the trip during lunch, and our waiter offered to take another of the three of us. Unfortunately we didn't get his name, so I'll call him Pedro.

Pedro seemed shocked when he noticed the viewing screen on my digital camera, but took a great picture of us. He told me in Spanish that it was the first digital camera he had seen. I took two pictures of him with the chef and a waitress, and then popped out the floppy disk and handed it to him. His jaw literally dropped when he saw the disk come out of the camera. It was a neat moment.

We started to leave, and Pedro stopped us. He said he had a "regalo" for us. He gave each of us a souvenir ceramic ash tray from the restaurant. I think that's when we all started getting that "Baja feeling." The people of Baja are really beautiful, and moments like that are just as awe inspiring as the mountains, the sea and the desert.

The drive south of Ensenada was a first for all of us, despite our many, many trips to Baja. Recent rains had turned the hills lush and green, an unexpected sight. Horses and cattle grazed along the road. We passed Santo Tomas, and what looks like a magnificent vineyard and tasting room. We drove through miles of verdant, picturesque valleys, hills, and several tiny towns. I recognized crops of strawberries and cactus, but couldn't identify some of the neatly planted rows of trees and greens. Agriculture appeared to be a major force in these alluvial valleys.

All along the highway we spotted crosses and miniature shrines, some with fresh flowers, marking places people had died. We also saw at least a dozen dead dogs, and a few deceased cattle on the side of the road. All grim reminders that Highway 1 can be treacherous, especially at night when the cattle roam freely. (We all loved the road signs. You'd see a wrench, a cow, a swimmer. I especially liked the cow, and Jess and Dad favored the one that warned of curves and looked like a set of boobs.)

We stopped at San Telmo so Dad could mark the spot on the Hummer's GPS. This is the turnoff point to Meling Ranch, but we won't be going there until the way back.

Finally we approached San Quintin, a "town" of storefronts lining the highway. We stopped for diesel, and then followed signs for La Pinta Hotel. It seemed a lot further than the signs indicated, but finally we arrived at a tree-lined camino, and then found the hotel. Of course, the storm caught up with us moments after we arrived, and it started pouring.

The hotel sports a fountain in the courtyard, a little bar and a restaurant. It faces the road, but backs up to a wide, empty, beautiful stretch of beach. The sun decided to shine for a while, so I took videos of the beach from my balcony, and then we went for a walk on the beach. The waves were huge and shapely. Sand dollars littered the beach. A fisherman collected scallops in green bags from the surf. Clam shells lay everywhere. We stayed long enough to watch the sun setting spectacularly through the clouds, and then, famished from this exertion, went to eat again.

We had garlic clams, a salad of local tomatoes, fish and quesadillas for dinner at the hotel restaurant. Dad and Jess split a bottle of Santo Tomas vino tinto. Afterwards we retired to my room, smoked cigars from Dad's cigar-of-the-month club on the balcony, gazed at a suddenly clear and fabulously starry night, and discussed weighty issues of our time. Then Dad and Jess watched some teeny bopper movie on HBO while I worked on this page. I would check my email but my room doesn't have a phone. I never considered this possibility...just that I might not be able to make a connection. Well, it's Baja after all. How am I going to feel like I'm on vacation if I'm checking my email and surfing the Internet every day? If I'm really quiet, I can hear the surf just beyond my balcony.

Tomorrow we head out for San Ignacio, our longest day trek. To see a beautiful old mission, the mystic gray whales, and mysterious cave paintings.