It was only a matter of time before we got pulled over. That we made it to day 3 and shortly past Guerrero Negro before it happened, well, impressive. That we hadn’t actually done anything to warrant getting pulled over, unsurprising. But the fact that we didn’t pay anything, neither a ticket nor a bribe, well, I’d say it was luck, but it wasn’t. No, it was all Ana.
And it went a little something like this, only in Spanish:
Amanda: “Ana, are his lights on behind us? Should I pull over?”
Ana: “I can’t tell. No, yes, yes, pull over.”
Amanda: Drives at least another two miles down two-lane desert road with no shoulder to find a spot to pull over.Officer: “Hi, do you remember those stripes on the road 10 miles back?”
Amanda: Smiles like an idiot. Looks at Ana.
Ana: “Ahh, yes, officer.”
Officer: “Oh, are you Mexican?”
Ana: “Yes, yes officer, I’m Mexican. My friend is from the U.S.”
Amanda: Smiles like an idiot. Nods at mention of the U.S.
Officer: “Oh, well, those lines mean that the speed limit dropped because there was a school. You
didn’t slow down. I don’t care if you speed anywhere else. If you want to take the risk of hitting a
cow, that’s fine, but at the lines, for the kids, you should slow down.”Amanda: Smiles like an idiot while thinking “a school? There were like two buildings and not even an
Oxo 10 miles back. Also, at least 5 cars have passed me between there and here. Also, I haven’t seen
one cow.”
Ana: “Oh, so sorry officer, thank you for telling us. No sabíamos—we didn’t know. I’m from Tijuana.”
Officer: “Well, next time. Next time.”
Amanda: “Claro, gracias.”
Officer: Raises eyebrows. “You speak Spanish?”
Amanda: “I try.”
Ana: “She understands a lot.”
Officer: “Well, that’s great. Slow down next time, for the kids. Watch out for the cows.”
Amanda & Ana: “Si, gracias.”
Officer: Walks away staring at purple Jeep.Amanda: Rolls up window, looks at Ana. “No sabíamos?”
Ana: Smiles. “No, no sabíamos.”
Amanda: Laughs. “I haven’t seen any cows? Have you?”
Amanda & Ana: Drive for 10 more miles. Get passed by more cars because Amanda has been
driving the speed limit the entire trip through Baja, and literally no one drives the speed limit in
Baja.
Ana: “Mira! Una vaca!” (Look! A cow!)
Beyond putting us on high alert for cows and desert children, the stop was also the start of a growing list of lessons we were learning on the trip or, as we called it, Ana and Amanda’s Rules of the Road. What are the rules? Well, there are many, and they range from the practical, like:
- Rule of the Road #1: Always let the local speak (to the cops, to miltary, to anyone of authority, really).
- Rule of the Road # 2: Always slow down for the children and, if not for the children, for the cows.
OR, even more importantly,
- Rule of the Road # 3: Always watch your things and the soldiers when they make you get out of your car at a security checkpoint.
- Rule of the Road # 4: If you can, look at the car waiting behind you at the checkpoint to confirm that they too are rolling their eyes as the soldier lifts the yoga mats, blocks, and beach hats to verify there are no drugs or weapons, all while asking you if you surf and commenting on how fit you are.
To the more metaphorical or profound:
- Rules of the Road # 5: The Universe is like the road. It guides us to where we need to be.
So, where exactly was it guiding us? And what else was happening besides getting stopped for not speeding and searched for being a gringa in a purple Jeep?
* * *
We were in Baja Sur, making our way through the desert, police stops, security check points, and vacas as we headed toward the blue and turquoise waters of Mexico’s Bahía de La Concepción.
Santa Rosalía
Our shift from the desert to the coast happened at Santa Rosalía. After about 3 hours of driving, one police stop, two security check points, several cows, and no sightings of children, the world shifted as the desert mountains opened into a wide view of the blue Bahía de la Concepción. It felt like stumbling across a long-awaited oasis. Serene and picturesque, we gasped, then we pulled out the cameras.
After catching our breath from the bay views, we continued a few minutes down the road to Santa Rosalía, an old mining town that sits just at an hour from Mulegé, our final destination.
Santa Rosalía is, well, adorable.
Its claim to fame is the small church that sits at its center and was designed by Gustave Eiffel (yes, that Eiffel). The church was brought piece-by-piece to Santa Rosalía from Belgium in 1897. And while the church is lovely, what really caught my eye (and Ana’s) were the ice cream shops. By my unofficial count, Santa Rosalía has more ice cream shops than anywhere else in Baja. It also has a string of cute coffee houses and cafes; flower-lined, narrow streets; colorful street art; and an entry-plaza that makes you feel all the alegría of being in Baja.
We toured the church, had lunch off the plaza, forgot to take pictures of the ice cream shops, and then got back on the road, Bahia de la Concepción to our left and desert to our right all the way to Mulegé.
Mulegé
I want to tell you all about Mulegé—how it is a cute little town up a hill, how it is built on a mix of cobblestone and dirt, how the cafes dotting the streets are warm and inviting, how the tacos are to die for. I’d love to tell you that. But the truth is that Ana and I spent all of 10-15 minutes in Mulegé proper. We were mainly lost, extremely agitated, and the only thing we really saw were the plethora of pickup trucks belonging to the Mulegé men and the outside of the old prison-turned museum.
Mulegé was not the first time Google maps had steered me wrong on the road trip, but it was the first time in Mexico. One minute, we’re turning into the city toward the supposed address of the place we’ll be glamping at for the next few days. The next minute we were alerted that we’re going the wrong way down a narrow, dirt street when two old men chatting on a nearby patio began waving their arms, shaking their heads, and motioning in circles, the universal signal for turn around.
So, I did, executing a series of small maneuverings directed by the old men. (I would love to tell you it was a perfectly executed 3-point-turn. It was not. It also was not easy, and it would have been impossible without the two men on the porch.) Eventually though, we got Princess pointed the right way on the street, but continued to follow Google in the wrong direction seemingly to the top of Mulegé as we tried to figure out the actual location of the glampground.
Did I mention that the road through Mulegé was along a cliff?
Yes, Mulegé to the left and cliff drop-off to the right. I drove slowly, looking for a place to stop and get our bearings, while simultaneously ticking off every pickup driver in Mulegé. Truck after truck came down the hill, forcing us to move over to the cliff’s edge to let them through. Then there was the pickup behind us. Practically touching Princess’s spare tire as it looked for a moment to pass.
Inside the car tensions were high as I navigated the Jeep and Ana tried to help while also trying to contact the glamping location. So, I did what any sane person would do. I pulled over into the first driveway I saw to get us off the road. Lucky for us, it was the driveway of the pickup behind us. You have to be kidding me. Really?
The driver didn’t think it was a joke. He didn’t even crack a smile. He just yelled at us for being in his driveway, while we tried to explain and apologize while backing up. Once we switched places—him in the driveway and us on the road—he did direct us to the museum at the top of the hill. And it was there at the old-prison that we finally stopped to regroup and figure out how to get the heck out of Mulegé as fast as possible without falling off the cliff.
Once we made it out, we vowed never to visit Mulegé again. It turns out that was pretty easy to do. Our glamping spot was actually 20 minutes farther down the highway, closer to the beaches. It sat across from a gas station. And there was Carmelita’s, a little restaurant with excellent hibiscus water and decent quesadillas practically next door. We would never have to visit Mulegé-proper again, and we’d picked up one more Rule of the Road.
- Rule of the Road #6: Sometimes you have to lose yourself a bit to find yourself eventually. Knowing what’s not on your path will help you appreciate what is on your path.
Mulegé definitely wasn’t on ours.
Besides, hanging out in the town of Mulegé isn’t the draw to this region anyway. The draw is the beaches around Mulegé, the lazy days spent on them; the dusty, off-road drives you take to get to them; the solitud; the sunsets that light up the sky. It’s the beauty and tranquility of the Bahia around you. It’s the joy of being nearly alone in paradise, a sentiment that can just barely be captured in words.
So, enjoy the photo montage, I hope they do the desert and beaches of Mulegé justice.
“Glampground” sunsets and views from Indie Park
When we finally reached the glamping location, we were rewarded. Not only was it cute, but it was complete. We had everything we needed: a metal airconned “tent” to sleep in, showers, gorgeous sunsets, and even a swing.
Post-Mulegé sunsets at Playa Santispac
Playa Santispac sits right off of Highway 1, an easy to reach beach—wide, dirt roads and ample parking—about 40 minutes from Mulegé. That put it just 20 minutes from Indie Park, and made it the perfect place to decompress post-drive and post-Mulegé. Once we dropped our bags off, that’s exactly where we headed to watch the sunset.
And as proof that you can learn lessons even while chilling-out, Santispac gave us another opportunity to test out Rule of the Road #1—always let the local talk—when Ana negotiated the entrance fee for the beach from $200 to $100 pesos ($3 or $4 dollars). (Most of the beaches in Mulegé require a small maintenance fee for trash pick-up and maintaining the palapas (palm leaf umbrellas or shelters)). The few bucks we saved were perfect too, just enough to try out an Hibiscus water at Carmelita’s post-beach.
Mulegé Beach Day 1: Playa El Coyote
We had grand plans of getting up early for yoga and coffee on day 1. We also had dreams of hitting two beaches, not just one. But even mornings in Baja are too hot for yoga outside in the summer, and we had stayed up way too late the night before for our New Moon Ceremony. (Yes, you heard right, New Moon Ceremony. I did explain that this was basically a mobile yoga retreat, right?) So, it was just a Mexican-coffee morning before driving to Playa El Coyote, the only beach we’d be at that day.
What a drive it was.
Wide views of turquoise waters on the way there. A narrow sand and rock road to reach the beach. We were so close to the edge, I started to think that perhaps I should have installed a snorkel on Princess.
We made it to the other side unscathed and without needing the snorkel. And we were rewarded with a nearly empty beach until late afternoon, El Coyote was the perfect way to spend a lazy day in Baja Sur. We even put the yoga mats to good use. Who needs beach towels anyway?
Mulegé Beach Day 2: Playa Armenta
We almost didn’t make it to Playa Armenta. It was high up on our list, but so were Playa Requeson and several other beaches. So, I spent the night post-El Coyote on Google, sorting through reviews and staring at photos. We settled on Armenta in the morning and Requeson in the afternoone, but still weren’t 100% sure we’d make it to Armenta even then. What if Requeson looked gorgeous? What if we missed the hard-to-spot entrance to Armenta? But the road takes you where you need to be (ROR#5), and the buses lining up along Requeson as we drove past it made the decision for us. We were not interested in being surrounded by people. We’d be spending the day at Armenta.
Playa Armenta was (is) hands down my favorite beach in Mexico. From the moment we left Hwy 1, easing down the narrow cliff-side road to the beach, it was clear that this beach was special. A bit off the beaten path, it was secluded and serene, a private paradise for me, Ana, Princess, and the guy collecting the maintenance fee (which Ana also negotiated down) for almost the entire day.
The views from Playa Armenta.
Mulegé on the way out: Playa Requeson
Despite the fact that we were headed to another beach in Loreto, we still wanted to fit in just one more Mulegé beach before we left. We decided on Requeson. If we got there early, we thought, before the buses and before the people, it could be just as beautiful as the Instagram photos, right?
You see, Requeson is special because when the tide is just right, there is a narrow land bridge that connects the beach to a small island in the bay. In photos it is gorgeous. With Ana’s drone, it could be amazing. But the reality of Requeson, well, enter Rule of the Road #7 and #8:
Don’t believe everything you see on the Internet. Always read the reviews.
Playa Requeson may have been gorgeous once. It might be gorgeous still at the right time of day, at the perfect time of year, once the busloads of tourists have left and a cleaning crew has come through. But between 9 and 10 a.m. on July 30 it was un asco. Gross. I’m not sure what they’re using the maintenance fee for—and I assure you, they are collecting the whole fee, not even Ana could negotiate them down—but its not to pick up the toilet paper that can be seen floating in the water at the shore’s edge. Nore is it to clean up the scummy bubbles that line the beach.
Needless to say it was a quick stop. It also had us spraying ourselves down with mat spray yet again, before getting on the road and heading toward Loreto with dolphins, sea lions, SUPs, and cobblestone streets on the brain.
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