2 More Days in Old Baja

Wednesday, 24 March – San Francisquito, BC to Bahia de los Angeles, BC (lat: 28 58.523, long: 113 32.818)

1. Sunrise at San Francisquito

2. The beach at sunrise at San Francisquito

3. The water was very clear like all of the Gulf of California beaches.
You could see the stingrays swimming in the water.

4. After breakfast, we hiked the headlands north of the beach.
A man, his hemp shorts & sunhat, and a backpack.

5. At the summit of the headlands, we discovered an observation post (assumed to be Mexican Army) with clear views of the runway at San Francisquito, the beach, and about 200 miles of coast line. We decided NOT to investigate.

6. A view of the beach at San Francisquito just below the observation post.

7. The road north to San Rafael

8. VIDEO: Live the dream as Ray drives Baja.
We had about 160 miles of dirt track like this on this segment.

9. Arriving at San Rafael, we find Francesco ("Poncho") as the only resident.

10. Francesco shared his beach and laguna with us.
Looking back, we should have stayed here.

11. A look at the Playa San Rafael from behind Francesco's.

12. After entering a long valley with steep mountains on both sides,
the road makes a straight shot to Bahia de los Angeles.

13. Unexpectedly, we came across an airplane blocking the road south of Bahia de los Angleles. About two miles further north, we came across the pilot (Jesus) and his companion. We gave them a ride into town.

14. Bahia de los Angeles is a beautiful place but has been
sub-divided and sold to the sport fishermen.

15. We camped at Daggett's Camp north of town.

The winds last night were fierce. I was already awake when Ray decided to put down the tent. We scrambled around to reconfigure the taco into “coffin” mode. Even with the tent down, the truck was rocked by the wind. In the morning, we assessed the damage. None to either the truck or the palapa (which I thought for sure had blown away).

A military patrol came through in the morning.

We decided to hike the headlands north of the beach. I assured Ray the views would be great based on my previous night’s reconnaissance. We hiked out to the point then starting climbing the steep, boulder strewn hills behind the point. As promised, the views were exceptional allowing us to see the three volcanoes of Las Tres Virgenes 60 miles to the south and Isla Angel de la Guardia (I think) about 60 miles to the north.

As we neared the summit, we say a radio antennae and camouflage netting atop a rock bunker. It was clearly an observation post that both Ray and I agreed did not need to be explored further. In addition to having a great view of the coast, the hilltop had a direct view of the beach at San Francisquito and the runway. We assume this was a Mexican army position. We will leave it at that.

We returned to the beach descending a lave flow. The sharp lava rock ripped through Ray shoes this time leaving us both without rugged footwear. On returning to the beach, we had a second helping of fish tacos at the restaurant. During lunch we decided to move on up the coast.

We backtracked 10 miles to the place where the road forked. We took the road toward San Rafael. We had another nice drive through the dessert.

At San Rafael we came to an amazing beach. It is amazing that I am still using this word this late in the trip. The sole resident on San Rafael was Francesco who ran a llantara (tire repair) on this empty stretch of road. When we pulled in, Francesco and his two dogs met us. He asked if we had a puncture. When I told him we just wanted to walk the beach, he seemed genuinely pleased and told us to stay as long as we wanted. He went on to explain that he had been living on the beach for over 20 years and that he is known as “Poncho” in the tour books. He said if we wanted to take one of the two palapas on the beach, we were welcome. He also told us to make sure we saw the laguna with the birds. Ray and I spent some time walking the beach. We considered staying but rationalized that there were better things waiting at Bahia de los Angeles – we were wrong.

I was touched by San Rafael and Francesco’s heart-felt generosity. I asked him if it was ok if we came back in a year or two to which he said yes. I wanted to give Francesco something to repay his kindness. Given how remote San Rafael is, we gave him our papaya, two apples, and two cold beers out of our cooler. Francesco was pleased with the papaya.

We reluctantly left San Rafael. The dessert ride continued past the cutoff to Bahia de las Animas which we would both have liked to explore but tagged it for “next time”. The mountains which keep this section of the coast so remote, seemed to formed an impenetrable wall. We drove straight for the mountains with some discussion as to how we were going to get over them. Then the road took crested a small pass and began running down a valley between two sets of very steep mountains on either side of the road. Directly in front of us about 20 miles in the distance was Bahia de los Angleles. This was most interesting geography.

As we descended the valley, we came across a small airplane blocking the road. Here is what happened next:

Joel’s Version: We continued down the road another couple miles and found two men walking toward Bahia de los Angeles. The elder man asked for a ride. He introduced himself as Jesus. His plane had “bad gas” and the plane went down. They needed to get to the phone so they could call for help. We unloaded the jump seats and all crowded in.

Ray’s Version: We continued down the road another couple miles and encountered a gang of narco-terrorists. Ray decides to sell Joel to the drug cartel. They pay Ray well to use him as a gringo drug mule. At first blush this sounds a bit harsh. After a few shots of Patron Silver, the ethical disonance subsides.

We gave Jesus and friend a ride into the “town” which was an odd collection of buildings and business extending from the beginning (or end depending which way you are traveling) of the pavement to the junction (about 1 mile). We helped them find a phone, first trying the Pemex station at the junction then coming back to the store at the end of the pavement. After getting Jesus and friend situated, we said our goodbyes and continued north.

We drove north around the bay to Punta la Gringa looking for a campsite based on a recommendation we got Alpohsinna’s. The rock beach was very picturesque. Wanting a shower, however, we headed back south and settled in at Daggetts Sports Fishing Camp (www.campdaggetts.com / rubendagget@hotmail.com) which promised hot showers (they were hot) and camping.


Tuesday, 23 March – San Ignacio, BCS to San Francisquito, BC (lat: 28 24.674, long: 112 51.415)

1. North of Vizcaino, the dessert was in full bloom.
Remember, it had rained here several weeks earlier on our way south to San Ignacio.

2. After El Arco, we entered to Saguaro zone.
From El Arco, we saw two ranches.

3. In the middle of the dessert, we saw this sign warning of livestock.
We only saw two motorcycles heading south this day.

4. The road was fairly good single track.
The only rough patch was here (about 15 miles before San Francisquito)
where we descended quickly.

5. 80 miles from Hwy 1, we arrive at San Francisquito to find
Alberto's fish camp, a restaurant with some palapas, and an airfield.

6. The beach at Punta San Francisquito.....

7. ....where Ray discovers what the hooks are for Hedley.

8. The area was once a breeding ground for sea turtles until over hunting decimated the local population. Local conservation efforts are working to bring up the census.

9. The scalloped beaches make interesting shadows at sunset.

10. Another great beach, another palapa, another nights camp.
The high winds caused us to put down the tent in the middle of the night.

11. Reflections of sunset on the mountains.

Today we began our longest segment of dirt track for the trip. After our second epic breakfast at Terry and Gary’s Ignacio Springs B&B, we buy groceries and water before leaving San Ignacio behind. I really liked this town so the finality of leaving left me with a melancholy feeling that the trip was coming to an end and that bad times were becoming memories.

We gassed up at Vizcaino. We decided that we could get by carrying only 5 extra gallons so we filled only one of the extra tanks. At Vizcaino, you can take a paved road most of the way to Scammon’s Lagoon on Laguna Ojo de Liebre. The intelligence we obtained was that like the other calving areas, the whales were leaving. This is a section of the peninsula Ray and I wanted to explored but decided that taking the dirt track into San Francisquito had both a higher value and temperature.

We left Vizcaino with this unfinished business and headed toward Guerro Negro. Before Benito Juarez, we turned off Hwy 1 on the dirt track to El Arco to begin our ride to San Francisquito, San Rafael, and to end 160 miles later at Bahia de los Angeles.

The road to El Arco was pretty good. We passed a maintenance crew dragging a scrapper behind a tractor taking off the washboard. We drove on this recently resurfaced section at over 40 MPH. We came upon a crew from the state electric company that was changing a flat tire. We asked if they needed any help as the road had become fairly desolate immediately after leaving Hwy 1. They thanked us but refused our help. Then about 5 of the crew tried to direct us around the truck and trailer which was pretty much situated in the center of the road. The problem was there was a pretty significant drop-off on both side of the road and there wasn’t much room to get around the truck and trailer. The crew was just a little too enthusiastic about my ability to clear the truck and trailer without tumbling down the embankment. Ray, infected by the enthusiasm out on the road ensured me that there was room. I folded in the mirror and put the right side wheels over the bank. The taco thought thin … and we made it.

The Baja travel book had it correct about El Arco …. Ask for directions. El Arco is a small settlement. The local traffic has created numerous well worn tracks that obscure the not-so-well-worn track heading out of the settlement. This was a problem we faced more than once on the trip. So after driving around the settlement, we asked if we were on the road to San Francisquito. We were not …. or we were having a Spanish language failure … too soon to tell. We backtracked through the village and headed out on a track that did not look anything like the road we traveled coming in from Hwy 1. The track eventually put us on a road the GPS recognized and we liked. We passed two motorcyclists going the other way, the only traffic we would have that day. They were from the US and confirmed we were on the correct track.

The 40+ mile drive from El Arco to San Francisquito went through some beautiful dessrt terrain. We went through a low point in the mountains. I only recognized passing two ranchos. Big country. We took our time stopping often to just take in the country.

The junctions to El Barril, San Francisquito, and San Rafeal were marked and agreed with the maps and GPS. We arrived in San Francisquito with several hours of daylight. We drove by Alberto V. Lucero’s fish camp at the far end of the air field that crossed the point. Alberto was heavily recommended by Gary back at the Ignacio Springs B&B. However, the camp was in a cove that didn’t have the spectacular view that the beach had in front of the restaurant.

So we drove over to restaurant, paid 100 pesos for a palapa and settled in. The restaurant was serving fish tacos (that’s it) that were exceptionally good. There was also a refrigerator (I don’t know what was powering this) full of cold beer. I tried to get the name of the restaurant. I ask if this was part of an ejido. I got a yes and a no from the two people in the restaurant. I asked the one that said yes what the name was: “San Jose”. So there you have it. At the end of a very desolate road is a restaurant, that I can not name, serving fish tacos and cold beer. This is Baja.

I want to add the people at the restaurant were very pleasant and helpful. I think we were their only customers.

We walked the beach the rest of the evening. I walked out out to the point and could see about 100 miles both up and down the coast. Having eaten a late lunch, we snacked for dinner.