We headed for the Mexican border, not willing to risk overstaying in America (although with around 11 million illegal immigrants, do you think they would notice us?) . It turns out we probably could have faded into this category as there was no exit point to America, no one to stamp us out of the country. We were driving along the motorway and then ‘boom’ we were in Mexico. It was more like a toll booth than an international border, but that didn’t stop them from waving us to one side for an inspection, the right handed steering wheel and foreign plates gets us every time! We were asked to open the back and take a few bags out and put them on the bench so that they could be inspected. This was all done whilst having a friendly conversation with the Mexican customs official who seemed genuinely interested in where we had been and where we were going. He asked a lot of questions about Mongolia, telling us that it is the place he most wants to travel to, which we both thought was kind of strange. The prospect of temperatures well below freezing seemed to be sending him chills as we stood there in the Mexican morning heat. I hope he gets there one day. Anyway, he checks our car paperwork, making no enquirers about car insurance, nor does he need to see our passports. That was it. Welcome to Mexico.
We carried along the motorway and straight into downtown Tijuana. Our plan was to keep driving all the way to Ensenada as everyone says ‘don’t stop in Tijuana, the border zone is dangerous, you must keep driving, don’t stop’. This was the plan. The plan didn’t factor in that literally two minutes into our arrival in Mexico, the clutch goes. On a positive note, we were right outside a large Costco with an even larger carpark. Hayden limped the car in and we parked out of the way of the shoppers, all the while thinking we were going to be ambushed by some crazy Tijuana border drug cartel! Hayden set about investigating the issue and it turns out that more people came to see if we needed any help in those 30 minutes than they did in our entire three months in America (not that we needed help, but we had the bonnet up often enough to suggest we did)! Costco even had workers in the carpark, their job was to collect trolleys, usher people into car parks (even though there were about a million empty spaces), and generally keep an eye on things. Feeling incredibly safe, we moved the car closer to the rest, asked these guys to keep a watch whilst we went to find a bathroom and much needed coffee! Crisis semi-averted (the copper clutch pipe now sealed up with electrical tape) we carried on with our whole ‘don’t stop until you get to Ensenada’ plan.
We arrived in Ensenada, ate lunch and marvelled at the general hustle and bustle. We drank Coronas in the sun and laughed at the signs in the tourist stalls advertising their goods as being ‘cheaper than Walmart’. We drove a little out of town to a family run campsite, the owner having spent all his spare pesos over the years turning his home into his castle. And not just like Darryl Kerrigan, this guy has actual turrets! And a whole lot of serenity too.
We enjoyed a few days in Ensenada, it was nice to stop after a busy few days. We got our passports stamped and were issued with our tourist permits, amazed that the American kid in front of us was issued one without even needing a passport! It seems you can come to Mexico with just your birth certificate and driver’s license. We ate fresh fish and prawn tacos, drank some local cocktail of beer, tomato juice and spicy stuff (actually pretty tasty) and generally just enjoyed the warm weather. Sunday came and we witnessed an enormous amount of traffic heading out to the point beyond our campground. This was strange for two reasons; whilst we hadn’t actually been there we knew that the road was a dead end with just a small fishing village at the end, and the cars weren’t just any cars, they were an eclectic mix of vintage, hotted up modified cars, and trucks! Curiosity eventually got to us and we followed them. It turns out today was Mexican car show day. All the cars we had seen drive past were neatly parked in a big field, the owners all wearing their matching car club t-shirts, drinking lots of beer and cooking food. We wandered around, took some photos and then headed to the water. To our surprise there were hundreds of people, all meandering along the cliff top path sipping on drinks served in pineapples and coconuts. Curiosity got to us again as we followed them to see where they were all walking to. To check out the blowhole of course. Everyone just stands around waiting for the ‘whoosh’ of the water to splash up and temporarily relieve them from the heat. We watched for a moment or two, headed back along the path to find fish tacos and then back to the campground in hope of getting some leftover birthday cake from the first birthday party that was going on, although with 200 guests I was doubtful at how many leftovers there would be. Oh yeah, did I mention that this kid had 200 people come to their fist birthday? Crazy Mexicans! We arrived back in the middle of piñata time and to find a bunch of Mexicans drinking beer in the campsite next to us, which is situated just down the hill from the main house/castle. They informed us that most of the people are Catholic and don’t drink, so the sinners had to come down here to enjoy their (light) beer! I guess we are sinners then.
We stayed a few more days in Ensenada before heading further south, stopping in San Quintin to watch the seals, Catavina in the middle of the desert, the shores of windy Scammon’s Lagoon and on the beach at Santa Rosalia.
We drove through many, many military and police checkpoints serving as a constant reminder that whilst we may consider Baja as ‘pretend Mexico’ the Mexican fight against drug runners is still in existence. Quite frankly the super high police presence makes us feel safe and they are yet to check our car – most unable to contain their shock upon discovering the steering wheel on the wrong side! They greet us with a hearty laugh and wave us through. Even the ever menacing Federalies give us a friendly wave as we drive by, it’s hard to be threatening when your Federal Police Vehicle is broken down on the side of the road. Still, we are very aware that we may be lulling ourselves into a false sense of security in the beautiful Baja, but we’ll enjoy it while we can. And for the record, Mr Trump, these kind hearted, helpful, friendly Mexicans don’t all look like killers and rapists to me.
Baja Bound
