I awoke in the morning to the chatter of birds in the cholla under a cloudless blue sky. The sun was warming the high desert quickly and drying my damp gear on the boulders I hid behind in the previous night's wind. A feeling of abundant comfort and peace washed over me with the promise of warm and sunny weather for the next few days. Traffic was light out on the narrow and twisty Hwy 1 as I motored into the Valle De Los Cirios. My destination was only 120 miles away so there was plenty of time for breaks and some GoPro video. Mid morning, my phone shut off after a particularly rough patch of road. I swapped batteries and attempted to turn it on and finally resorted to a factory reset on the side of the road. Without any service, the phone went into lock mode and needed to verify that I wasn't a theif. It suddenly occurred to me how much I rely upon this micrcopmputer for navigation, fuel tracking, e-books, music and photography. Not letting the hiccup get me down, I pressed on and soon ran into a cluster of camper vans at the small Llantera where the road splits off 66km to Bahia De Los Angeles. I introduced myself to the small gaggle of English speaking travelers and gathered that most were on their way to the Bay. Naturally, everyone passed me by on the desolate desert road where I stopped often to breathe in the perfume of pink desert flowers in bloom mixing with the drying creosote bushes. The Borja, a Seussian deciduous tree that grows only in this specific region, populated the desert, it's red blooms a unique spring occurance. Hummingbirds buzzed past to the blooms in a frenzy of activity and buzzing wonder.
Rounding a bend, the azure waters of the Sea of Cortez washed over the tan desert under a baby blue sky. Abrupt volcanic peaks ringing the Bay of Los Angeles form a natural amphitheater to this critical spawning habitat for whale sharks, turtes and whales. The town appeared unchanged since my previous visit two years prior. Running into the van folk at Dos Pinos Cafe de Mariscos, they had just wrapped up dinner and drinks and were heading for Playa La Gringa on the north end of the bay, the end of the road. I borrowed the wifi password to restore my phone then set off toward the free beach. The paved road fizzled out and became rocky riding up toward the hillside where "Welcome La Gringa" was written in white painted rocks. A few other RV's were positioned on the sandy crescent shaped beach. A striking view of the nearby mountains reflected off the calm water where brown pelicans floated past and the depths beneath teaming with sealife. Although the water was in the 50's, I took a short swim in the salty water, admittedly mostly for bathing purposes than pleasure. The cold immediately took my breath away but was equally invigorating. Two traveling Vanagon couples I met were great company on the cool beach. Out in their wetsuits, through snorkels they say rays, baby shark, many fish, abalone and scallops. Sipping a cold beer on the beach beside a campfire surrounded by laughter, my head tips back to the sky where a dazzling spectacle of the heavens sparkles in the clear Baja air.
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Fisherman's Boat Launch
Mak, Owen and Adam riding the nose! The next few days were spent relaxing along the beach with the odd 10mph crawl into town on the scooter. Having the small mercados nearby with affordable vittles made life easier on me since I'm limited on total food and water capacity. I picked up a few beers each day which were sold individually for about $.50 a Tecate. The curving beach terminates at a small island which offers stunning 360 degree views of the Isla Angel De La Guarda, Sea of Cortez and the volcanic remnants ringing the Bay of Los Angeles. Winds blew from the northwest during most of the visit with some days being blustery but enjoyable in the abundant sunshine behind a wind block of some sort.
Owen free-climbing old gold mine buildings
On the first night camping at La Gringa, a short but stocky man of about 45 or 50 walked up as I was collecting scraps of wood for a campfire. He asked if I wanted any wood so Matt and I accompanied him on a walk down the beach. He spoke rapidly in Spanish and I struggled to keep up but learned he was from Nayarit and spent December to May here in a home built along the beach. He told us he missed his children who live in Bakersfield and Sacramento. His dog was quite excited but incredibly obedient, a gorgeous golden brown short coat and sensitive eyes like caramel drops. Pushing the stout door open on a small outbuilding, he reaches down to a knee high pile of hand chopped wood begins handing the arm sized logs out to us. We take a couple then have to refuse, realizing there isn't a tree in miles and he must have walked far to get this wood which he probably uses to heat the cabin on cold nights. We asked how much he wanted for the wood and he refused payment saying it was a gift. Accepting our invitation back to camp for a beer, Chelo returned with a bundle of wood himself and delighted us with his big smile, storytelling and joyful persona. As the fire died down, I watched Chelo's figure lit by moonlight fading westward down the beach, his trotting companion obediently by his side. Here's that "Bad Hombre" I was warned about.
Scorpion in the firewood I carried on the scooter
Stranded at high tide
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