RV CARAVAN TO BAJA -- PART II
Thursday, Friday - February 4 and 5
The short trip to Loreto permitted a later start. More beautiful vegetation along the way: Cardon, Old Man cactus, Palo Blanco Trees that were larger and turning from spring yellow-green to rich, deep green as we journeyed south. No more Boojum. We left those on the west coast. Some Palo Verde and Palo Amarillo too. Also some blooming Ocotilla-type, in tree form, closely related to familiar Ocotilla of the Arizona desert.
We found Loreto to be a small, truly Mexican town and were happy to settle in for two nights. The entry into town was discouraging though, unimaginably littered with blowing plastic and rusted out auto bodies. Though frequent road signs forbade dumping trash, there seemed to be little cultural awareness regarding litter except in individual gardens. So many inconsistencies!
We were pleased to be led to a very secure campground south of town, with the usual dirt street serving as its approach. Good water, electric, sewer (luxury!); incredible sticky, oily sand that tracked into the rigs (bummer). How folks were managing their dogs and cats in all the dust and dirt of the trip was more than we could imagine. Earlier, Karen had advised against ever using campground electric services to run our refrigerator. Too much current variation, was her experience. Good advice, as the currents seemed to be fluctuating. The converter sounded different from campground to campground, and moment to moment.
Several women hurried to the camp laundry which had six washers, two of which were operative, and three dryers, one operative. Bob and I decided to explore the beach instead. The beach was unappealing and obscured from the camp by assorted vacation rental buildings. Dark patches of sand that were largely dirt alternated with intrusions of black rock and sea lichen. Loreto weather, however, had turned milder. The afternoon warmed up enough for our ceiling fan, and I removed my long-johns. We enjoyed a prearranged dinner that evening at El Nido Restaurant, a steak house on the main street that kindly prepared garlic fish for me, the vegetarian. As a group, we had become very comfortable with one another by that time. Bob and I were appreciating more and more the unique folks with whom we were traveling; no complainers, everyone participating.
Our door mini-blind failed. It couldn't endure any more bumps, I guess. The strings broke and it unfurled. Our good neighbors Eileen and Bob supplied a step stool so it could be removed and trashed. We left it by the refuse can in case someone found it usable.
We drove into town the second morning on our own, buying fuel without incident at the local Pemex. We developed a system whereby Bob engaged the fuel man while I ran back and turned our gas-fired refrigerator off before jumping out to be certain that the pump was indeed set at zero and the fuel was Magna sin (unleaded). Fuel buying was always an adventure.
We were feeling quite confident by this time and managed an adequate parking spot on the main street of Loreto. At the bakery recommended by Gil, we bought colorful Mexican sugar cookies to contribute to the evening's group potluck meal. Those other women in the group were COOKS! We were dazzled by their cakes, bread, casseroles and salads, rendered with apparent ease and pleasure.
I am no cook at home, much less in an RV. We hoped that we did our part by regularly supplying cookies and such for desert. Folks were so generous it was hard to keep up. Hopefully, we will be able to extend Littleriver hospitality in the future.
We explored the Loreto "supermarket", a typical small grocery, and bought a few supplies. They didn't have non-fat milk and quite a few other things, such as margarine, Kleenex or hot chocolate powder, but the markets were an intriguing mix.
A walk out onto the Loreto breakwater brought us to a very slick new small harbor. Light craft worked nets and big, bony Pelicans roosted or dove for fish. We gave consideration to bicycling the waterfront but the wind came up in the afternoon so we rested a bit and then walked to the mission church and museum. The museum offered some impressive history and artifacts concerning the first Jesuit and Franciscan missionaries. The church itself was largely restored and not particularly attractive inside.
Saturday, Sunday, February 6 and 7
Roused again by the alarm for an early start on the long drive to La Paz. The roads had continued good, though there were some rough "vados" where water courses damaged the road in the late summer rainy season and some broken edges and intrusive culverts.
Because of roadwork just inside the town of La Paz, the caravan could not make its anticipated turn toward the camp ground. We all trundled deeply into the capitol city of La Paz and had to negotiate a main street U-turn before reversing course and gaining entrance to the proper turn lane. As always the rigs formed up outside the RV park and entered one at a time by CB direction. Our entrances and exits were orderly and well directed. The small constricted gateway at the Casa Blanca RV Park was very difficult for some of the larger rigs even though those towing had parked outside and disengaged their tow vehicles.
All parked, we tidied ourselves for another prearranged dinner at the posh waterfront Crown Plaza Hotel. We were picked up by van and taxi and delivered to our first taste of true elegance. The hotel was located at the end of the expectable rocky road, but once inside its grounds, it was deluxe in every sense. We had margaritas on the pool terrace and then were escorted through a lovely guest room that was on display. Dinner was in a splendid dining room where a folklorico dancing team entertained us brilliantly.
Sunday was a lazy and fine day. Bob and I off-loaded our bikes for the first time and explored the area, pedaling out to the hotel to have another look. We also rode into the working persons' neighborhoods near the RV park and saw some authentic La Paz. Again, it was an inconceivable mixture of new elegant homes and pitiful shacks. We also biked through what must be a government housing area, consisting of blocks and blocks of small square adjoining casas, with concrete walls surrounding ten by fifteen foot yards, all stuck together on rutty, dirt streets. Other folks in our group went to Mass; some visited the city and its marina. Fred and Marilyn invited us to a tempura shrimp dinner that evening. (Marilyn was constantly doing amazing cuisine in her RV. She also carried a sewing machine and did quilting for relaxation. Obviously, their rig was a bit roomier than ours). I managed to steam up some pasta to contribute to the meal and we had a very memorable evening together.
Monday, February 8 to Friday, February 12
An early start for the long drive to destination south, Cabo San Lucas! We took the eastern road and enjoyed really lovely mountain scenery with marvelous vegetation. Bob was rewarded by a good look at his "desert plants going right down to the sea". Arrival time at Cabo San Lucas was mid-afternoon, so we taxied into town with Fred and Marilyn and enjoyed a leisurely but windy happy hour on the pool terrace of the glamourous Finisterra Hotel. Bob and I arranged the rental of a car for the next day so that we could drive around Cabo and environs during our four-day stay there.
The Finisterra Hotel grounds were spectacular, right on the water overlooking the Cape and Arch. Featured was a towering triple palapa in the round (a great palm frond covered shelter with a restaurant and bar). We chose to dine inside at the Blue Marlin Restaurant located on a top floor with a fabulous view and elegant fittings. We drank our first L.A. Cetta Fume Blanc and found it a very nicely balanced and full bodied wine, the winery located somewhere in the Ensenada area, but never found. The meal itself was only so-so and pricey.
Tuesday, Good Sam provided a fine tour to the local Glass Factory and to the harbor for a glass-bottomed boat ride out beyond the Arch and the Cape to where the Sea of Cortez mixes with the Pacific. The water was mirror-calm and the day pleasantly warm. A T-shirt and jeans were enough. This was such a high point for Bob. He loves to get to any land's end.
A group brunch followed at the Finisterra Hotel. We sat outside the Blue Marlin Restaurant under patio umbrellas and had a delicious breakfast of fruits and breads and made-on-the-spot omelets.
Afterwards, Fred and Marilyn stayed in town with us to explore downtown Cabo and its myriad shops. On the harbor we spotted the Sea Lion, a Special Expedition ship that was docked there. Bob talked to the officer at the gated entry and told him how interested we would be to see the ship for a future voyage. Naturally, we were accorded a short tour and were able to talk to some of the passengers and inspect a cabin. Truthfully, the ship did not appeal to us. It needed refurbishing. We would like to find a cruise around the Sea of Cortez but need to do some shopping for the right one.
Later, in a nice little side street, I found some pottery that I had to have and bought two nice pieces. So many trinkets and glitter and junk were for sale in many, many tiny shops in the town and along the waterfront.
In the late afternoon we made our way to the Dollar downtown office and finally drove off in our rental auto after a tedious period of arrangements. The car was a Chevy Manza, an okay little vehicle except that its door locks were inclined to stick in the locked position. I actually sprayed them with WD40, but they still resisted. For dinner, we drove our friends Marilyn and Fred east to Melia San Lucas Hotel about halfway to San Jose Del Cabo. Another gorgeous, extravagant hotel, open only four months and still without many guests. The meal was, again, only okay.
Wednesday, Bob and I set out alone to explore some of the features starred on our map. We drove east again and stopped at Santa Maria Beach. All off-road excursions took determination. Most things off the highway were reached by improbable dirt. S.M. Beach was no exception. There was a parking lot and an attendant who accepted some pesos to "watch our car". A rough path through hot, dusty plants led to an exquisite crescent beach with clear aqua waters. There were some people sunning under beach umbrellas who must have been residents of the adjacent small rental apartments high up on the sand. More Pelicans to watch and a nice beach walk before breakfast.
We drove on east to the Westin Hotel. It was mega, modern and painted in riotous colors. Some of it seemed lovely, some garish. We lingered over a delightful breakfast of fruit and waffles on the terrace overlooking the sea and then explored the nice gardens and beach area with cabanas and beach umbrellas and quite a number of guests. The kind concierge assisted us in making our one and only phone call from Baja: To our son, Mark, who had delighted us with a message left at the camp, inquiring after our health and safety. We asked him to pass good news along to the family. We were not only well but energized and having a marvelous adventure with extra wonderful people.
On to San Jose Del Cabo to explore its congested downtown and the fabled Presidente Hotel just to the west. Cost: $360 per night, all inclusive, which meant all food and drink. Its dark, ordinary, hotel rooms in need of fresh paint and new decor, were not appealing. The beach was steep and unused with a very active undertow. Guests were languishing about under sun shades close up to the terrace pool. We felt no inclination to return.
We made our way back to Cabo San Lucas to locate the Villa Del Palmar, a fabled new resort. We were commissioned by our son, Mark, to explore it for a possible future family gathering. Another unbelievable dirty, rocky road led to a most gorgeous spread of buildings on gardened grounds. The courteous staff supplied us with rates and information and gave us a brief tour of a lovely corner view room with tiled lanai. $250 per night seemed a bit pricey for a family gathering of 22 persons. We remained there to dine in the magnificent dining room. Very few hotel guests or diners were present, as at the Finisterra and elsewhere. Perhaps "the season" had not begun.
The next day, Thursday, was our last full day in Cabo. We drove into town and parked in a huge dirt/sand public parking lot and walked to the marina for a repeat glass-bottomed boat trip out to the Cape. We needed to do it one more time! The water was rougher than the previous day, and it was cooler. The boat ride was bouncy but the scenery just as thrilling. Bob came away with a bruised behind after a particularly rough jolt.
The afternoon was promised to me for some shopping. We explored the marina outdoor marketplace and some stores in town. I braved the marina mart and bargained for a few flashy items. We tried to find the downtown pottery shop of the day before, but it had disappeared into some other street. Returning at last to the rental car, we drove out to the Glass Factory where we thought we could find some wine glasses such as we'd enjoyed using at the Finisterra. We located the factory in its improbable back street, with some difficulty. Somehow it wasn't as appealing as the day before. By that time we were tired and ready to quit for the day. We headed back to the car which was parked in the hot sunshine. OOPS! The keys were still in the ignition and the car was tightly locked up.
I looked at Bob; he looked at me. But God is good. A small tour van pulled into the lot with an English speaking guide. We explained our dilemma and he kindly phoned the Dollar people. Sitting in the shade and waiting, we were delighted when the Dollar man showed up promptly. But the story didn't end there.
He peered into the car doors and tried to see the code number marked on the key tag, to no avail. He, in turn, phoned a "locksmith" and more time passed. In due time, two husky men arrived. One of them seemed to be the boss. The other observed. Bossman poked all the doors and windows with a metal band and a looped wire. He made the rounds of the auto, shaking and jiggling and reshaping his tools. No go. That little car's locks refused to be picked or popped.
All three men crawled under and over the vehicle, shaking and rattling and prying Forty-five or so minutes of determined consultation in Spanish and good Mexican perseverance finally sprung a lock. I was so relieved that I hugged the sweating "locksmith" and everyone else in sight, with many expressions of "muy bien" and "muchos gracias". Bob, more to the point, got out his billfold, expecting the worst. The charge was 100 pesos ($10.00)!
Gratefully, we paid, and tipped, and hugged until off the team drove in a cloud of dust.
Meanwhile the Dollar man led us through the back streets of Cabo, a few short, rutty blocks to the rental office where we gratefully returned the auto and were driven with much grace to El Arco RV Park. Alphonso, our rescuer, accepted an invitation for a brief visit to our motor home.
Weary and hassled we were, but we had signed up for a group meal at a restaurant on the beach called "The Office". The van was arriving so we grabbed our hats and sweaters and were whisked off for the evening. We were not good candidates for the riotous evening planned. The Office was a place to go when spirits were high. It proved to be less than the restful, restorative we'd hoped for. There was a remote floor show, difficult to see and watch. There was some embarrassing tequila business that some folks seemed to enjoy. The best show of the evening was down at water's edge where tiny shrimp, washed up on the incoming tide, glowed in a magnificent aqua fluorescence.
Friday, February 12
We wakened at 6 a.m. by alarm. We'd arranged with the Wagonmaster to leave early for Todos Santos in order to spend a little time at the botanical garden there and to see something of the town. But that was not to be. Attempting to negotiate a tight spot between rigs, we contacted the back corner of the Tailgunners' trailer. Fortunately, we could find no damage to Chuck and Pat White's rig, but, unfortunately, we blasted out the upper half of our dining area window. Boy, did that window explode with a bang! Minute fragments of tinted tempered glass were everywhere, particularly inside. That got our day off to a shaky start, not an early one. And Bob was still smarting from the locked car incident of the day before.
The dear, generous men of the caravan gathered around with rolls of plastic and duct tape, and the kind women offered brooms and dust pans. Together we got patched up and swept out the best we could and finally got on the road just ahead of the Tailgunners and a couple of other late leavers.
We made it okay for a few kilometers and then the wind and speed began tearing the tape and plastic off the window. We seemed to be all alone on the road so pulled off onto the left shoulder into the first wide spot. There, we got out our sewer hose bucket to stand on and tried to retape the best we could. Two of our group passed by; we hoped they'd realized we were okay. Back on the road, however, we encountered them waiting. One had attempted a U-turn to come back and assist us. Woe! That rig was stuck in deep sand. Van and Ella Marie went ahead to do traffic control. Bob jumped out and manned a shovel. I used our yellow Good Sam caps for flags and attempted to slow oncoming traffic from both directions.
The Tailgunners, who, themselves, had tire trouble back in Cabo, now caught up and we finally extricated the sand-bogged John and Rosemary and got them turned around and back on the road. We rechecked our tattered window patch and we all limped on toward La Paz not able to give Todos Santos so much as a nod.
The caravan, somewhat beleaguered by events of the day, arrived mid-day at the Casa Blanca RV Park to discover that camping spaces were mostly filled. We waited outside the park while our ingenious leader double parked us, one by one. We surely respected him. Gil always kept his head and did a marvelous job commandeering our sometimes ragged group.
Back in La Paz, the caravanners were scheduled for a city tour, but Bob and I realized that this was the best chance to get some sort of repair on our shattered window to see us through the long miles home. Ellen, a staff person at the park, was very concerned and helpful. She produced a phone book and a map of the city and spent a good deal of energy pinpointing possible glass shops.
We followed her directions and after three abortive inquiries found "Vidrio and Aluminio de la Paz", a most unpretentious shop with most courteous and skilled folks (a miracle in itself since this was later revealed to be the eve of Mardi Gras). The owner motioned us to pull up to the street side of the shop and put his men on the job.
There had been no English speaking along our route to this shop, but extreme kindness every place we stopped to inquire. The people of Baja were surprisingly different from our usual foreign contacts. Even European travel usually produced many English speakers. Not so the inner areas of Mexico. These "vidrio" folks spoke not one word of English, but with hand gestures and our limited Spanish vocabulary, we soon were under repair. Those competent workmen measured and sanded and filed until they executed a perfect acrylic substitute window. When we realized how skilled they were, we were sorry we had not requested real glass and been done with it. As it was, their "acrillio" was grand, a marvelous fix for our fix. The bill, after a two hour process was 450 pesos - $45.00.