By Josiah Roe – (the gringo with the green van)
Everyone has that moment on their first trip into the “real” Baja: that joyous intersection of not-Cabo and/or not-Tijuana with a vista so expansive and otherworldly and breathtaking you have to pull over; your heart as big as your eyes and your smile.
For many, that moment is the turnoff just south of Puertocitos with the islands and Gonzaga Bay in the distance. For others, it is when the 1 drops into Cataviña and its towering Boojum and Cardõn and rock formations. For me, it will always be Mulegé and just-past-Mulegé: that incomparable union of the perfectly imperfect village with the impossibly grand vista overlooking Bahía Concepción and Playa Santispac.
How can I describe what it is like to watch Franz pilot his Drascombe around the Bay at sunrise, or the feeling of sharing news and laughs with Francisco and his family over dangerously-strong margaritas at Las Casitas, and then dancing with friends old and new till sunrise on New Years Eve in the Estadio, and on and on.
I am convinced I am not a skilled enough communicator to share what these places and moments are like, or the other experiences that one can find in the 800 by 100 miles of the Baja Peninsula, a place I firmly believe is like nowhere else on Earth.
Mulegé was one chapter and I hope you enjoy it. See you in a few weeks.
Thanks to Josiah Roe for writing this post. Josiah is the publisher of the magazine The Journal of Lost Time.