On the Road in Baja Part 1

This is the first of what I hope will be a series of posts about our Baja travels earlier this year. The blog is best viewed on the website. Just click on the title, if you are an email subscriber. Thanks for checking in!

Many landscape photos that appear in this blog were shot through the windshield with an iPhone7plus. My blue shirt is reflected here. This scene is representative of the dramatic and beautiful northern Baja terrain. Baja scenery overall is outstanding. 

We were 50 days on the road earlier this year driving to the Baja Peninsula and back. Fifty days, most of them in our Class B RV - a Sprinter van all dressed up with camping conveniences crammed into space about a quarter to half the size of a walk-in closet.

I have toured closets that could sleep five or six adults. Believe me, our van can handle only two. And it's good that we're average to small-sized shrinking adults. And that we like each other.

Now that we're home with ridiculous comforts, more room than any human beings need or deserve, and calming predictability, I am entertained by my travel notes.

TRIP STATS

• Nights spent van camping - 35
• Airbnb stays - 8 
• Nights in hotels - 3
• Nights spent with friends - 4
• Miles logged  - 5,185 from Southern Oregon to Todos Santos, Baja CA Sur and back (with a quick side trip to Arizona)

 It all went by with a whoosh.

One of few negatives about travel is that frequent relocations tend to shift time into hyper speed. Every day has its own story, beats with its own rhythm, and glows with its own light. 

Well, honestly, a few of those days were far from glowing. I'll get to those later; I know that the bum-luck bad-decision stories are appreciated.

For now, I'll start with crossing the Mexican border at Tecate, a surprisingly anxiety-free experience despite warnings to the contrary. And then an account of our first days on the Baja Peninsula.


CROSSING INTO MEXICO 
We chose to cross the border at Tecate because it is the smallest and least used of the three ports of entry in San Diego County, CA. The reason? It's out of the way. For us, was, coming from Joshua Tree National Park, it meant navigating narrow twisting mountain roads. Yippee! We like those roads.

This one would have been better without snow, however. The snow was an unwelcome travel surprise about 50 miles north of the Mexican border.

At the border, we were almost lonely; one car was ahead of us and none behind.

No would-be immigrants swarmed the area. It was peaceful and the Mexicans working the crossing were friendly and helpful, performing only a cursory search of the van. Our uneventful crossing took about 15 minutes. In another ten, we were out of town.

RUTA de VINO

Who knew? Northern Baja has a lovely wine region spanning from Tecate to Ensenada and beyond. As we drove the deluxe Highway 3 sixty-seven miles to Ensenada, the vines were dormant and, early in the day, the tasting rooms closed

We also spotted vineyards south of Ensenada before lush greenery and intensive farming transitioned to desert. The Ruta de Vino includes 64 wineries spread over seven different valleys in a Mediterranean micro-climate.

We did our part to ensure the success of Mexican vintners and sampled a fair amount of Baja-produced wine. 

     The scenery along the Ruta de Vino close to Ensenada. 

ESTERO BEACH in ENSENADA 
It was the day after Christmas, and we gave ourselves a gift by booking a room at the Estero Beach Hotel, which, we discovered, no longer operates an RV park listed in our guidebook and where we had planned to stay. 

Darn! Too bad. But after several days camping en route to the border, we were ready for a hotel. It was a good place to practice showering without ingesting any water.

The Estero hotel is a beautiful accommodation, and it was off-season, so we scored a half-price room and enjoyed the view (pictured below) from our balcony. It was an odd but great way to start our Baja camping adventure - lounging around in a luxury hotel!


       

The hotel restaurant served fine Mexican fare. PK ordered a combination plate for lunch not realizing it was crowd-sized. Somehow he polished it off. Because it was so tasty.

Mine was served on a cutting board, each crispy taco stuffed with either shrimp, catch-of-the-day, or octopus.  Hmmm.  Octopus. It was OK, but a bit chewy. I tried not to think about the suction cups. Great cilantro salsa.

                                       ****

We headed south the next morning all cleaned up, well fed and eager to explore.

Oops. A military roadblock. This looks worse than it was.

We knew we'd run into "crime-stopping" roadblocks, and had been advised to remove wallets and purses from the van as it was being searched for guns and drugs. Other than getting the stinkeye for taking photos, this and three or four other roadblocks were no problem. 

Oops! Road construction. Quite a lot of it between Ensenada and our night's destination, Don Eddie's Landing.


We waited in a long line for our turn to pass through the construction area. Food vendors were standing by to ease the pain. Candy or pork rinds anyone? 

DON EDDIE'S LANDING - Nice surprise!
When we travel, PK strongly prefers to drive. Fine with me. It is my job to navigate and ferret out attractions to visit and places to spend the night. Since Mex 1 is the main road going north and south in most of the Baja, navigating isn't that challenging. Even though finding side-trip routes can be tricky. And one never knows about camping. 

Our camp spot at Don Eddie's was, umm, Spartan. And big. And not too far from the restroom, which, unfortunately, was hidden behind a palm tree and unlit. There's a story here, but I decline to tell it.

Don Eddie's Landing, an old-time fishing lodge, turned out to be a bit of a side trip that I found in an indispensable guidebook, Traveler's Guide to Camping Mexico's BAJA by Mike and Terri Church.

It was 3.3 miles off Mex 1 on a paved road, although the short entrance to the "landing" itself was sketchy.  

One wouldn't expect much while bumping along this roadto camp,  but a big juicy surprise awaited. 

Don Eddie's Landing turned out to be a popular stop on the snowbird circuit, and we got lots of "beta" from other travelers, as our son, Chris Korbulic calls information garnered before you commit to something. 

We were still a bit skittish, on day two in Mexico, after friends and relatives questioned our sanity for traveling to such a dangerous place. My auntie Ellen forbid me to go. 

Ironically, the first traveler we talked with, camped next door and headed north to home, was eager to tell us all about the thieving going on in the south. 

His story was one we heard repeated, and that we later witnessed, in the same area he described — Bahia de Conception, on the Sea of Cortez, south of Loreto.

I'll save that story for a later post. The point is, despite the following statement that actually came out of his mouth, we were not deterred by this news.

"With that van, you look like millionaires," he declared. "You will be prime targets!"

Thanks, dude. Would we turn around and go home? No. We would not. But we would take extra care and be a little bit wary.

For the record, we had NO problems whatsoever during our Baja travels and never felt unsafe or threatened.

True, the US State Department has issued "do not travel" warnings for several Mexican states on the mainland, but none for most of the Baja Peninsula. 

The homicide hotspots in Baja are clustered in the north, close to the US border. Tijuana, Ensenada, and Rosarito Beach are cities to hurry through. 

The next person to provide "beta", but with a positive spin, was a woman who frequented Don Eddie's Landing. 

"Where are you going for dinner?" she whispered in a conspiratorial way as I headed into Don Eddie's inviting bar and restaurant to check the menu. 
I didn't know there was a choice, but she sure did. She and her husband led me over some rocks to a path leading to a "hidden" restaurant tucked between buildings. The woman insisted we try it.

"You will not believe it," she promised.

Thus we were introduced to Eucalipto Restaurant, the best place we ate in Baja. With all the great seafood and authentic recipes yet to come, that's saying something.

It was a culinary thrill to happen upon a place such as this that doesn't fit in its surroundings and presents unexpected excellence. For me, at least, although PK is not prone to superlatives.

The chef was blasting something the entire
time we were there. The restaurant was packed.
I'd rename the place House of Fire.

Flames lit a nearby table as the waiter fired up liquor and poured it into a shrimp and pasta-filled Parmesan bowl. The entire kitchen was open-view, and I couldn't keep my eyes off the sauteeing veggies flying around and flames licking fish, meat and even mashed potatoes.

Dinner! Mediterranean swordfish and flamed-finished mashed potatoes topped with done-just-right tossed-in-the-air veggies. We both ordered this and had delicious leftovers for the next two nights of van dining.
Along with local wines, of course. We do our part.

NEXT UP:  We made a bad decision the next day. It will be embarrassing to tell the tale. 

On the trail south in Patagonia

Along the mostly gravel road between Valle Cochamo' and Hornopiren, we had to stop often to drink in the scenery, or on the other end, relieve ourselves. Rest areas? Nada.

We left Valle Cochamo' on a blue-sky morning, traces of bright clouds adding exclamation points to our glee at diving deeper into Patagonia.  We were en route to Hornopiren, a small town and a ferry port, where the next morning we'd board a ferry bypassing a roadless area to arrive at Chaiten.

After futile attempts to book an Airbnb, or any other lodging in Hornopiren, we resorted to the old-fashioned method: drive around and hope.

Remember the days before cell phones and GPS when you schlepped from hotel to hotel trying to find an affordable vacancy? I think I still have marks in my palms from clenched fists.

It didn't take long, however, for Chris to notice a big old house with a spiffy paint job and a "rooms for rent" sign out front. A couple cottages were behind the house, and a two-bedroom unit with a tiny kitchen suited us. It cost about $50 a night.

A bonus was the stray German Shepard who hung out on the concrete step and guarded the place.

Unfortunately, not for us, but from us.

Lodging secured, by the dog and our payment, we headed for nearby Hornopiren National Park. It isn't like the national parks we know and love in the USA. In some respects, it's better: wild, untamed, undeveloped, pure wilderness.

The visitors' center was closed and didn't look like it had been open for ages. The park apparently has two trails, and the  one we were about to begin led to a mountaintop seven miles distant.

On the other hand,  the park's trails are not maintained and are inaccessible. We bumped along a few miles of gravel road through private property to reach a trail head, one of only two in the park of 186 square miles of rugged mountains and unspoiled rain forests.

The park includes two volcanoes, 12 square miles of glaciers, and huge stands of Alerce trees, somewhat comparable, in the Chilean world, to the redwood forests of Northern California.

Alerce trees and us. They will last longer. 

We didn't see Alerce trees on this hike, however. But we did experience ankle-deep mud and tripping tangles of tree roots. We feared for our osteoporotic limbs.

Really? It gets worse.

Let's go for a swim?

Loveliness distracted along the way. Although we saw few flowers.

We reached a stalemate. Chelsea scampered ahead, somehow weightless, gliding over the mess, while Chris hangs behind attempting to guide his hapless parents through the morass. We didn't last long after this stop. Neither did they. 

 We made it intact and still speaking. Still hugging, even.
Hanging on for dear life?

Back at our modest accommodation, Chris and Chelsea improvise dinner with plenty of wine on the side. Life is good! 

On the almost six-hour ferry ride the next day. OMG so beautiful! And more fun and challenge are coming. Some things it's better not to know in advance. 

Earlier posts about our South American travels

1. Around Cape Horn - Happy 2018!
2. Ushuaia, Patagonian peat moss, and a polar plunge
3. Patagonian Paradox - the more you see, the more you want
4. Penguin drama - #1 attraction near Punta Arenas, Chile
5. Magellan was a mean SOB
6. Millennials take the lead. Boomers traipse behind.
7. Valle Cochamo' and a cool eco lodge

Valle Cochamo' - a private park in Patagonia

South America adventures 2018 - Episode 7
Email subscribers, please click on blog title for a better viewing experience.

Some say that Patagonia's Cochamo' Valle park, the first major stop on our road trip, is reminiscent of Yosemite National Park. Photo credit - Chelsea Behymer

We awoke in the Puerto Varas hostel, not exactly refreshed.

The kerosene fumes that about did me in the previous day had left the building, but we'd stayed up past midnight trying to hammer out an itinerary that included making reservations. Old people like to know where they might lay their heads the next night. 

The millennial people.....not that interested. But trying hard to accommodate.

PK and I were still giddy about a couple weeks on the road in Patagonian with our son and his partner, Chelsea Behymer. (I'm restraining myself from typing a row of !!!). The serendipity involved for this to occur sounds made up, but it is a true story.

Patagonia comprises the southern-most parts of Chile and Argentina. We traveled in Chile only. The terrain, unlike most of Patagonia, was cool and damp rainforest. 

Regarding accommodations, we were looking at Airbnbs, lodges and hostels. As we began our two-week journey, we had three nights booked. That was it. And also a ferry ride or two planned, I think. At least we were set for the next couple of nights.

But first things first. Trip food.

It was rainy and cool as we stopped at a supermarket on our way out of Puerto Varas. December through February is high tourist season in Chile, like summer in the USA. Most tourist areas were crowded, and traffic and parking were ridiculous in urban areas. As were scoring restaurant seating and negotiating 20-foot long lines at the supermarket.

Never mind. Our goal was to a get outta town into the wilds of Patagonia without having to hunt and gather.

We left the market with a cardboard box stuffed with salad fixings, a little salami and prosciutto, fruit, cheese, bread, peanut butter, coffee, cream, and Chilean wine. The basics.

At this lunch stop, we were reduced to mostly peanut butter. Did you know it's good with veggies and stale chocolate chip muffins? Chelsea is helping Chris dress up a carrot.

We used that same cardboard box the entire trip, avoiding as much packaging and plastic as possible. Chile is committed to recycling and conservation in a big way. But the country is not likely as committed as our traveling companions, who never intentionally buy plastic bags or plastic almost-anything.

Reuse, buy used, waste nothing.

Traffic thinned the farther away we got from Puerto Varas, and soon we were on a gravel road carrying us into the wild Patagonia I had imagined.

En route to Cochamo' we saw two young guys hitchhiking at a sharp curve along a snaking
narrow road, no shoulders, no place to pull off to pick them up. 

And who picks up hitchhikers, anyway? Chris does.

He depended on hitchhiking when he first traveled in Chile 12 years ago and "people picked me up all the time."

He jumped out to rearrange our super-sized luggage, gear and groceries stuffed under a bluetarp in the pickup bed. Space was tight, but the hitchhikers whooped at getting a ride.

Turns out they were headed to the same place we were: Valle Cochamo'.

TRANSLATION  - PLEASE READ THIS INFORMATION AND RESPECT THE INSTRUCTIONS
The Cochamo Valley is not a park or Public Reserve. From here to the border the trail passes through private property. To be able to visit, enjoy, and maintain good relations with the landowners, it is very important to respect these rules and stay on the trail. 

Like numerous parks in Chile, Cochamo' is private. That doesn't mean it's a club with
exclusive memberships, or that it costs big bucks to visit, but that the property owner takes
care of it and wants to share its beauty.

According to an August 2013 United Nations study, an impressive 308 private parks now exist throughout Chile, covering more than 1.65 million hectares (4 million acres), with more than half in the southern regions of Los Lagos, Magallanes and Los Rios. More  striking, over 200 of the parks are led by individual owners and some 60 percent are small private parks of less than 200 hectares (50 acres). From the Patagon Journal article Private Parks on the Rise, Summer 2014 issue. 

We visited several private parks, even one with a visitors' center that charged a $10 entry fee.
Cochamo' was free to hikers, but charged $15 a night for tent camping.

We stayed two nights at Campo Aventura along the Cochamo' River not far from a trailhead leading to a hanging valley six miles uphill. Once in the valley, numerous other trails provide access for campers and climbers. The large body of water on this map is a bay. The Chocamo' River is close enough to the ocean to be affected by tides.

SSpeaking of the Cochamo' River, it was just a few steps from the sweet cabins we rented for $20 a person per night, including a homemade-everything breakfast.

Of course our companions were compelled 
to take a dip in the snowmelt stream, which 
they did most days depending upon the 
presence of cold, clear water that did not
require negotiating life-threatening access.

Chelsea gloating, following a polar dip, about her foresight to grab
 a robe from the cabin, a surprising perk for a minimalist accommodation.
And a minimalist person.
.

View looking up the Cochamo' River near Campo Aventura.

To reach the cabins at Camp Aventura, we crossed a swinging bridge
and passed through a sheep pasture.

Campo Aventura is rustic. The building on the right is a common area with a wood stove and sheepskin-covered seats for hikers to warm up. We used it to prepare and enjoy our usual dinner salad and a bit of vino. Well, quite a bit.

The next day Chris and Chelsea planned to hike to the hanging valley, six miles up, and camp for the night. However, they were advised that the camping was closed as more than 1,000 people had reserved spots. What?! A thousand? Well, in that case, who wants to camp? 

They decided to go up and back in one day.

PK and I knew we didn't want to do a 12-mile hike, but set off to walk as far as we could in a few hours on the only trail to the hanging valley. Roads do not exist in the park.

Mud was ankle deep in some spots.

Trail was a trench much of the time.

We decided that the next time we're there (and we do want to return) we'll hike and 
make reservations at the lodge up top. However, we won't be too proud to hire a horse to
pack in our stuff.

It was fun seeing horses crossing the crystalline snowmelt creeks. Hikers took the swinging bridges. Photo credit....Chelsea Behymer

One of numerous swinging bridges. Horses can't use them. 
Photo credit.....Chris Korbulic

Loved the madrone-like trees near the cabins.

Also loved....

Foxgloves and fuchsia TREES dripping with blooms,along the trail.

Horses and waterfalls along the road to the trailhead.

Playful banter between Mike Rock, the caretaker/manager at Campo Aventura, and a horse packer just returning from the mountain. In the small world department, Mike had lived in Ashland, OR, not far from our home, and had guided trips on the Rogue River. He's lived in Chile for 17 years and has no plans to return north.

This is a Chilean dish that the four of us shared at a restaurant in the town, Cochamo'. We'd seen families devouring huge plates at various locations, and decided to give it a try. Wouldn't order it again, but pichanga includes sausages, hot dogs, boiled potatoes, tomatoes, boiled eggs, avocados and mozzarella cheese. In the background, is what's left of the best crab dish any of us had ever tasted, a thick cheesy soup. 

On the right, the handwritten cheque for this meal, which included a beer and a bottle of wine. With tip included, the total is around $70 USD. 

Chile is not cheap!

 It is also not a Third World country. Chris, who has traveled around the world, including most of South America, says it's his favorite.

In a future post, I want to explore why.

And also take a quick look at other places we traveled during this trip: Argentina and Uruguay.

Coming soon... finding an accommodation the old-fashioned way, and tackling another challenging trail, this one in Parque Nacional Hornopiren.

Earlier posts about our South American travels

1. Around Cape Horn - Happy 2018!
2. Ushuaia, Patagonian peat moss, and a polar plunge
3. Patagonian Paradox - the more you see, the more you want
4. Penguin drama - #1 attraction near Punta Arenas, Chile
5. Magellan was a mean SOB
6. Millennials take the lead. Boomers traipse behind.

Patagonia paradox - the more you see, the more you want

If you go to Patagonia's southern tip, hold onto your jaw as it is likely to drop.

A swath of color briefly illuminated the Beagle Channel, which was stunning even when shrouded with clouds and rain threatening. The channel is three miles wide at its narrowest point and 150 miles of awesome length. 

Much of this wildly beautiful and harsh territory is best seen by boat. Or maybe only by boat. That's how we experienced Cape Horn, the Beagle Channel, the Strait of Magellan and the Chilean fjords. If ever there was a reason to book a cruise to Patagonia, this is it.

Our two-week cruise on the Celebrity Infinity had the over-the-top amenities that make cruising popular—major eats, entertainment, swimming and soaking pools, a casino etc. etc. etc. But without the trip highlights, which, for us revolved around wild Patagonia, it would have just been two weeks on a floating buffet.

Our 10 days in Chile after the cruise were spent on a loosely planned but wonderfully executed off-the-cuff road trip in Patagonia, which suited us better. (More later, of course)

But I am grateful to have seen this historically fascinating and visually dazzling collection of fjords, mountains, glaciers and waterfalls at the very tip of South America's Tierra del Fuego Archipelago.

A series of glaciers in the Beagle Channel originate from the still-vast Darwin Icefield on the channel's north side. We were thrilled that our balcony room was starboard, and we spent hours and hours shivering as we drank in the passing scenery, (along with some wine). The landscape became more surreal with every passing moment. 

Glacial ice appears to be blue. It really isn't, but our eyes see it as such because ice absorbs all colors of the visible spectrum except for blue. Then again, if we see blue, isn't it true?  Whatever. The brilliant color makes the scene even more other worldly

Another glacier on its way to the tidewater. Currently only one glacier in Glacier Alley  actually reaches the channel.

This one doesn't quite make it.

We saw all of the above and more the same day that we hiked to Laguna Esmeralda! Even though the ship didn't leave Ushuaia until around 4:30 p.m., it was still light enough to see the sights in the Beagle Channel until around 11 p.m. We're talking  17-18 hours of light. Is there such a thing as too much natural light? I don't think so.

This is about it for vegetation in the channel and the fjords. However, indigenous people once lived here, and some early explorers escaped scurvy by foraging. In one account, a young Charles Darwin on the HMS Beagle, described seeing a naked woman suckling an infant. Sleet was melting on the woman's body and also the infant's. He was horrified. The region's weather is typically harsh. Other accounts report that the indigenous people coated their naked bodies with seal oil as protection from the elements. Others  report that seal skins were used as protection. In any case, it was an existence difficult to fathom. 

This photo was taken near where when the ship took a sharp north turn toward Punta Arenas, which is located on the Strait of Magellan. We enjoyed similar scenery for several days back-to-back. It got so that I felt guilty if I wasn't tethered every moment to our balcony, or at least a north-facing window. Or on Deck 4, where nature lovers without balconies congregated wrapped in parkas and wool scarves. 

Is there such a thing as too much natural splendor?

No. But there IS such a thing as not enough time.
 
Get it while you can!

Parting Shot

Earlier posts about our South American travels

Around Cape Horn - Happy 2018!
Ushuaia, Patagonian peat moss, and a polar plunge