That's My Story

STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT

Published the week of January 9, 2007 in Western Outdoor News

Photo: Not sure who took this one, but someone is having a really bad day. The roads in Baja are much safer than ever and no one should be afraid to drive them, but common sense is a good thing to pack along. While roads can be well paved, you can often count on them to also be very very narrow too!

STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT

I often get questions about driving the Baja peninsula. Folks want tips about where to stop; where to eat; what to bring, etc. I could write a book to each of them, but since I’m not into re-inventing the wheel, and there’s so many good books out there already, I defer to books like Gene Kira’s “Baja Catch” and others that have more info in them than I will ever know in my lifetime!

However, I do post up a few general tidbits to folks who ask with the number one rule being: “Do NOT drive the Baja Peninsula at night!”

“Well, why the heck not?” is what I get back.

Besides the obvious things like death (see all those little crosses lining the side of the road?) , drunken drivers, animals on the pavement, no shoulders on the road (and steep cliffs down the sides), rockslides and debris, etc. It’s a wonderful highway and beautiful drive…if you do it in the daytime!

We Americans have a habit of getting from point A to point B as fast as we can. We drive until we’re tired. And we assume that no matter where we stop, we’ll find a 7-11, Motel 6, and an AM/PM mini market gas station. Not so fast in Baja, Pancho. Slow it down.

I’ll admit that I’ve been knuckleheaded myself too many times. I’ve driven like a bat-outta-hell down Mexican Highway 1 and only by the grace of God and fast reactions fueled by coffee and/or Red Bull did I not get killed (Some other time I will tell you what happens when you drink 4 Red Bulls at once…if one works…four MUST be better, right?)

I have not had any major accidents, but I have been run off the road by trucks going the other way and veering into my lane. I have almost rear-ended other vehicles at night that had no taillights and literally going no faster than a slow jog.

I didn’t know goats could fly. I once came around a blind corner north of Santa Rosalia at 60 mph and couldn’t stop before slamming into a herd of goats at full speed and watching two of them launch over my windshield. I also felt a couple of speed-bumps as I musta thumped a few more under my wheels. Since we were on windy roads there was no place to stop, but you simply can’t. It’s like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride and I’ve seen it time and again. If the owner of the herd finds you, suddenly he will tell you that you killed his “PRIZE” animal (cow, burro, goat, etc.) worth hundreds of dollars!

I once set up camp in the dark in the bushes near a beach around Bahia Concepcion. In the morning when we were breaking camp I realized I had set up the tent on a nest of really pissed off family of scorpions. I think our thick sleeping bags kept us from getting jabbed.

Another time, my amigo and I were just dead tired. We had no tent and my two-seater wasn’t very comfortable for sleeping. We saw a rusty dilapidated old truck next to a deserted farm house (or so we thought) and since it was cold, we crawled under the truck to sleep. Well, early in the morning dark, that rancher fired up his truck with us under it and drove right over us just missing Jeff’s feet with the big dually tires as we were alternately screaming and trying to crawl out.

My only encounter with banditos took place in the boulders north of Catavina. My amigo, Pepe, and I had pulled over and actually had a tent and small fire going. Out of the dark, three grubby and menacing locals materialized. Oh-oh. We were miles from anywhere and a hundred yards off the dark highway.

“Dame su dinero y comida, amigos.” (Give me your money and food.)

I hadn’t been in Baja that long, but my friend Pepe was from Sonora and one of the funniest travel buddys I have ever had. I didn’t understand all the stranger said to me, but I understood enough of it. The main guy approached the fire and his two amigos sort of circled from behind. All those horror stories you hear suddenly blare through my mind. For some stupid reason, the theme song from “Deliverance” and images of Ned Beatty flashed as I saw one of the guys grinning at me with a mouth full of bad teeth.

I was hoping Pepe could talk to these guys and reason with them.

Pepe laughed. What he did surprised me. He want back into the tent and grabbed his guitar. He said we didn’t have money, but we had some food and tequila we’d be willing to share and a song. What? A song? Was he nuts? Before anyone could answer or respond, Pepe just started playing as loud as he could and singing at the top of his lungs. Now, Pepe is a really lousy singer, but he sang his heart out and it was impossible not to start laughing at this surreal thing around a Mexican campfire.

Then, so did the three banditos. Exhale and laugh. They started singing too! Hell, I was so scared I started singing as well making up words to the Spanish rancho song. La-La-La-La-La for all I was worth! As I found out later, one of them told Pepe we were so pathetic, they couldn’t rob us!

Well, the tequila bottle got passed around and there were more songs. I didn’t understand all the conversation, but I told Pepe to just keep singing. Our “amigos” sucked down that tequila, but I told Pepe to only “pretend” to drink. When the three of them were passed out in the dirt, we packed up and snuck out, wheels squealing down the highway! Life in the Baja…

That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.