The Code of the Road

When Juan and I came to Baja last summer, we had some minor troubles with the pony. We got stuck in sand a few times, and we also had a breakdown in Guerrero Negro that memorably resulted with Juan hitching a ride to the mechanic in a potato chip truck. I still can’t believe I didn’t get a photo of that.

I think one of the things that makes Baja such a great experience is that everyone stops to help each other with their cars. The roads here are tough and the cars get beat up and everyone at one point needs a push or a tow or a ride to a gas station. Juan said once he stalled out and didn’t even have time to get out of his car or flag someone down before someone was pushing him. People stop and help, and they never say ‘you shouldn’t have tried that’ or ‘why don’t you have better tires’ or ‘maybe you should get that fixed.’ They help you and they go on their way, as naturally and graciously as though they are simply saying hello. It’s the code of the road here. I love it. It means that whenever we attempt a bad road, I don’t really worry. This past week we got stuck I think six times. On the most remote road, we had to wait probably 20 minutes before someone came along. This guy spent probably an hour helping us while his girlfriend slept in the car. Then he gave us a beer before following us back to the paved road to make sure we didn’t get stuck again (we did).

I don’t know. I come from the land of AAA cards and emergency roadside service and have never once depended on a stranger to help me move a car. There’s something amazing about knowing that your car will definitely face problems up but it won’t matter because whatever problems you have will summon up the magical roadside-assistance elves. It almost makes me want to have a breakdown just to witness people appearing in the middle of nowhere to help you.

The notorious Carretera Cabo Este probably would have been passable before the rains that made it difficult for us to leave La Paz about ten days ago, but the rains made rivers, which dumped a ton of sediment on the road and also eroded parts.

Why did we even bother with this road? I don’t know, really. Why do we do anything?

We continued our trend of staying at gorgeous beaches. Up until we got to La Ribera, we had not once shared the beach at night with anyone else. But we stayed Saturday night there, and we fell asleep to all sorts of tailgating parties and woke up to the fishermen going out before sunrise and saw that a family had stayed beside us all night. This is not them.

Cabo Pulmo was beautiful. We camped at Los Frailes, the southernmost camping spot of the night. It didn’t have the bomb snorkeling we were looking for, but the water was warm and there was almost zero light pollution, which made for spectacular star-gazing. I think we saw two dozen shooting stars that night. The next morning–after some help from some passing snorkelers to push us out of the sand–we went to the other campsite, Los Arbolitos, to snorkel. The visibility was just so-so, but it was warm and fun.

So we’re back in La Paz. It feels good to return to a familiar place. It feels cooler, even. We’re planning on leaving tomorrow for the 18-hour ferry ride to Mazatlan on the mainland. It’s been almost four weeks in Baja and I feel like I’m at the point where we either have to stay here forever or leave. My brain is feeling beached. And even though Milo loves running naked and free on the beach, I think he’s more of a city dog.