Top to Bottom on a Steel Steed – Baja California, Mexico

By: Yan Chun Su

This was what we looked like when we crossed Tecate border – camping gear strapped onto the back of a Kawasaki KLR 650, a map of Baja California resting atop a fully extended tank bag, two gallons of water jammed inside the saddle bags, and me, wearing a bright orange backpack, wedged behind my trusted pilot, Brian, in his red motorcycle outfit.

Neither of us had been to Baja before. To me, the sound of Baja signified beaches. To Brian, it was more desert off road riding (think Baja 1000) in a wild neighborhood. We were eager to explore, we were bounded by one common yearning – to sample some true Baja fish Taco.

The first day of riding found us scrambling for extra layers of clothing while Brian rode with his heated handgrips on high. That late April day didn’t bring us steamy beaches and heat-radiating deserts. Instead, we ran the edge of a freezing rainstorm and finished our day in a conifer forest by a mountain lake. As pine needles pattered on our tent the next morning and small song birds sang to the cool mountain breeze, we realized it was time to throw away our preconceived notion about Baja and embrace the unknown.

Via Mike’s sky ranch, a popular hangout for off road riders, we gained more elevation on challenging dirt roads, some littered with deep ruts and boulders so big that we had to get off the motorcycle and walk. Passing oak and pine trees and granite outcrops, I felt like I was somewhere in the Rockies. By the time we reached Sierra de San Pedro Martir National Park, where the highest peak of Baja’s 3,086 meter Picacho de Diablo resides, the lone park ranger pointed us to piles of snow by the parking lot. Yes, snow in Baja!

For the next several days, we followed the main highway, Mex 1, going south. From the windswept sandy beach near San Quintin, I picked out three of my favorite sand dollars. One day later, we forgot them behind in a cardon forest near Catavina, where we spent the night sleeping under the moonlight. It was such a bizarre scene. Sandstone boulders seemingly moved there by supernatural force, gigantic cardon cacti dwarfed everything daring enough to come close, and the skeletal-like boojum trees (Cirio in Spanish) imparted a sense of phantasm to this unique landscape.

From snow-covered mountain to sun-scorching desert, from alpine flowers to shoreline critters, this land of startling contrast has it all within a few days' ride.

At Santa Rosalia, we saw the Sea of Cortez for the first time. The best part of this narrow ocean came when we arrived at Conception Bay further south. Its temperature is warmer compared with that of the Pacific side, and it's famous for its spoiled beach-goers at picturesque little coves. The cobalt-blue water extends south to Loreto, the old capital of Baja until 1829, when an earthquake destroyed most of the city and kept it out of the peninsula’s tourist development until the 80s. Mixing some old world charm in a tidy small town with ample amenities, especially those simple family eateries crowded by the locals serving up world-class tacos, Loreto made a perfect resting stop for us.

After a couple of days of fish tacos, quiet morning walks along the esplanade and relaxing afternoons sitting on a park bench in Loreto’s historic downtown sipping mango smoothies, we were ready to hit the road and get dirty again. This time, we had our eye set on an old mission nestled in the desert mountain some twenty odd miles west of Loreto – Mission San Javier. It was established by the Jesuits in 1699 and is one of the oldest in Baja, second only to the one in Loreto.

In a small valley alongside the road, several patches of native palms signaled some sort of permanent water source, but for the most part, the narrow and rocky road traversed the barren mountain terrain. You can not help but wonder – considering it was more than three hundred years ago that San Javier was built – how much ingenuity and determination people had to have to bring in all the materials. When you actually arrive at the palm tree-lined, stone-paved courtyard in front of the church, your wonder becomes a sense of awe and a feeling of inspiration.

It is a grand structure in every way. Its remote setting, the astounding contrast from barren desert to flower-blooming oasis, and the peacefulness the surrounding installed in us the moment we arrived were what made it particularly special. It is hard to imagine that a place like this – a place one expects to be devoid of anything – can have such a commanding presence. It makes you feel compelled to stay indefinitely. Perhaps this feeling was exactly what the missionaries hoped to achieve.

After a long ride on Mex 1, in the heat wave that was impossible to shake off, no matter how fast we rode, we joined the afternoon traffic into La Paz, the biggest modern city since our journey began in San Diego. Our friendly hotel staff set us up for a snorkeling trip to Isla Espiritu Santo, about an hour’s boat ride from the city. The prime diving season was still several months away, but we were lucky enough to find good conditions and a sociable sea lion colony to play with, or rather, played by the curious pups with endless energy and superb diving skills. Like a game of cat and mouse, we studied one another as these aquatic acrobats moved swiftly in and out of our sight.

Being a neoprene floating toy wasn’t that bad considering other things you could become in the marine-rich Sea of Cortez. On a day trip to Cabo Pulmo, the only coral reef area in Baja California, we found ourselves swimming amid a school of skipjack tuna. They blocked the sunlight and forced us to join their direction of flow as if we were just another strange sea creature they encountered. And another day, offshore from a deserted beach, Brian went skinny-diving and somehow alarmed a puffer fish, causing it to inflate to twice its size like a spiny balloon. At that point, Brian realized maybe a swimsuit wasn’t such a bad idea.

Leaving La Paz, we returned to the narrow dirt path following the ocean cliff. Even with our duo sports motorcycle, it was hard not to hit a jaw-dropping boulder or deep rut once in a while. Yet, to our amazement, several local families drove their pickup trucks or even cars on these same roads. We met one of those families on a no name beach south of La Paz. Six children from five to fifteen were having a great time playing in the ocean, while the mother cooked and the father fished. We joined them by the campfire at night and the next morning, waved good-bye to the snuggly packed family with a full-size beach umbrella shading the older kids in the truck bed.

Cabo San Lucas, the land’s end of Baja. It couldn’t be more appropriate for us that they say it is the journey, not the destination that is the reason to go places. The bustling street scene of Cabo is only a very small part of Baja. As we journeyed top to bottom, our senses were touched by extreme contrasts in all shapes and forms. For those seeking adventure and remote scenery, Baja’s splendor in diversity makes it easy to find a special place that you can call your favorite spot. Whether that is a secluded beach, an unlikely desert oasis, or in our case, a natural wonder on a tiny island in the blue-green water of Sea of Corte – it is up to you to discover.