Trip Report from Baja California, MX in 2025

Federal Highway 5 took me 120 miles into San Felipe, a fishing town and tourist/Expat destination. With a population of around 25,000, the roads were busy, dogs strolled slowly in front of buses and semis, bikers, vendors, and kids casually claimed the roads. I pulled in at the micro-brewery on the way into town, the only road into and out. I’d been there before and found the beers good, staff happy to chat to strangers in either English or Spanish, and the drinkers were both local Mexicans and Gringos. The outdoor porch looked out over the sea, sparkling in the full sun and blue sky, I was alone with all those empty tables and chairs, and so sat next to a converted Airstream that was their kitchen and watched as people came and went. I bumped into a woman I’d met the year before in another part of the peninsula, not that we could remember each other’s names, but it was a comfort to me. To be known. I was in a strange mood after that interaction in Mexicali. A shakedown and I didn’t know what to make of it, or of my willingness to pay and be done with them. 

After walking Billie and Teddy, I tied to them an outdoor table in the shade and got myself a Pilsner beer. I looked out at the Gulf of California and had to grin. I’d made it. 

With San Felipe under a curfew because of cartel activity (read ‘multiple murders’), there was an obvious presence of police and Federales, each checkpoint was slowing down traffic with them looking inside vehicles with hands on machine guns strapped across their chests. I decided to keep going. Time was running out if I was to make it to San Luis Gonzaga before dark. It was the next best place for camping, ideally that is. I’d planned to stay there in San Felipe but I was in a strange mood and wanted to get as far from the border as possible. I wanted to settle and unpack, spread out, walk the beaches, eat good food, and just let myself BE here in Mexico. Relax and feel safe. 

The night fell just when I reached the turn-off for Campa La Poma, two hours later. The wind tore across the bay, through the palapas, and sand flew horizontally. Bracing as they say. I found the family inside their restaurant, paid up for a few nights, and picked an empty palapa. The dogs ran free, peed on things, came back. I drank my hot chocolate from inside the truck and simply stared out at the stars above as the moon came up. Lovely. It couldn’t get any better, I thought, but then again, I was in Baja and the adventures had only just begun.

This bay was first colonized in the mid-1700s by Italians, building a mission here. It became a supply destination for the missionaries up and down the peninsula. These days it’s more of a way-point for tourists like myself. It’s a rocky coastline, rugged, with chaparral, short and tall cacti, and the muted colors of the desert shrubs. I watched as pelicans dove one after the other in the morning sun, the wind hadn’t yet picked up. The seagulls zipped around, bugging the bigger birds, making them drop their catches, the fish splashing back into the crystal clear sea below. Billie and Teddy chased seagulls, or tried to, and were easily worn out in a couple of hours. 

I unpacked the back of the Beast, making us a home for a few days, with the outdoor kitchen set up against the one wall in the palapa. I didn’t think it’d hold up in the evening winds so  in the mornings I made eggs, tortillas and beans, saving extra for later as a burrito. 

When the winds returned, I moved back into the D2, thankful for all the cushions and bed set up. I spent the afternoons reading and evenings were for listening to podcasts and music. The dogs slept. 

Driving south, the Valley of Cirios is a protected area full of cacti, scrubland, reptiles and even mountains, one, the Sierra la Asamblea, reaches over 5000 feet.  This conservation area covers a third of the state of Baja California (the northern state of the peninsula). I drove past dried lagoons, mesas, valleys and hills, the road winds headed inland towards Punta Prieta, little by way of towns but I did pass a few homesteads offering gas out of barrels and tacos from their shacks, cars and semis pulled over. I kept driving though. I knew where I wanted to be the next few days. 

Bahía de Los Angeles is down Federal Highway 12, about 40 miles off Highway 1, and that drive was rough this year. I’d been down this way a few times in my Dodge van, that first time with a blown radiator and the company of a tour group who kept me company as I limped along. The potholes were insanely deep in places, crossing the width of this narrow road, I had to focus, often switching from one lane to another. There was no time to relax it was that bad. The various Facebook groups had warned me but this was beyond my imagination. I felt bad for the locals who had to come and go daily to get supplies from Guerrero Negro, the nearest bigger town. 

I crested the hills some two or three hundred feet above the bay and pulled over. The view from there was stunning. No wind either. Time for a walk. Billie and Teddy did exactly that. I followed. 

Isla Angel de la Guarda filled the horizon with the smaller islands of Coronado, Borrego and La Ventana nearer the shore. Glorious. Apparently there’s an archipelago of sixteen islands in the bay. This whole area, the Canal de Ballenas (whales) is a biosphere reserve, an area covering 1500 square miles that now protects five species of turtles as well as whale sharks, California seal lions and more. Overfishing had threatened the area’s marine life and the focus has shifted to fishing tours and tourism instead. 

Then we drove through town and headed north to Playa la Gringa, the free camping option I’d camped at before. Over twenty RVs were lined up in front of me and so I turned back and headed to the lower sandy area to a mile or south of them. What can I say,  I like camping solo where I don’t have to answer questions about my accent or contain my dogs more than for a few hours at a time. I found the perfect spot in the sand dunes. The only trouble was waking up one morning to ankle-deep troughs of sea water, I’d not noticed that it was a full moon and had camped in the low-lying sand. The tote of dog food had even floated ten feet, their ropes were soaked, and my folding camp chair was seriously wet. Four-wheel low got us out. 

After relaxing there for a while, it was time to head into in Baja California Sur and Mulegé. It’s a fairly easy drive, there’s only the one highway so no map needed but  the potholes were hellish south of Guerrero Negro.  The roads wound with the occasional western view  from up high the mountains and back to the east coast. 

My next stop was at Playa Santa Ines, south of Santa Rosalía, one beach where desert and fifteen foot cacti reach the coast. 

The dogs ran free for hours, I strolled barefoot in white sand, glad for the sunshine and lack of wind. Last year, the local tourist board set up a small campground at the south end of the beach with palapas, bathrooms and for a decent price. The road puts off many people and well, compared to the Bay of Conception, this beach is not as picturesque as the turquoise waters there. I love the solitude, the silence, the dolphins and pelicans hovering over the beach and with the cacti-covered Sierras Azteca to the west. 

However, Mulegé was less than half an hour away. I couldn’t wait to be back there. I drove on and crested the last hill to see the deep green of the valley. 

It’s a calm and sleepy fishing town with a layer of tourism and Expats, the population hovers around four thousand. A river of the same name flows from the Sierras Guadalupe and create this oasis of an estuary with date palms lining the farms in the valley, as well as mangos, bananas, lemons, oranges, grapefruit, papayas and even olive trees. 

I camped at Don Chano’s along the river, hidden from the thirty-mile per hour afternoon winds. I’ve been in the area before but this time I had the Landy. It took us from Punto Prieta to Playa La Perla, with the dogs free to roam amongst cacti and rocks, across empty beaches and down dirt tracks. Now I could truly explore more.

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1. I’m on Substack where you can read short stories and if you become a paid subscriber, you will start with a novel, chapter by chapter. Not too much each time but enough to keep you with some light reading set in the Southwest.

2. Sleam’s Artwork has new offerings of original art and gifts each week: After years of mostly doing cartoons or text, I’m getting into painting. I didn’t know that watercolors would convey the vibrant colors of Mexico so well. This winter, I focused on capturing the streets, homes, and beaches of Baja California Sur. They’re available as downloadable files to print as well as on various practical things like mugs, totes, wearables, mouse-pads and more! I’m having fun. I hope you like them.  

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3. Wanderlust Journal: SUBMISSIONS OPEN! We’re taking ideas through the website contact form, just give a sense of what you want to share with our international audience of over 179,000 so far! We focus on personal experiences, approx 1500 words, include a short synopsis and bio please. 

4. Check out the travel poetry books available through Wild Dog Press

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5. Writers: If you are looking for a developmental editor, check out how I can help your writing become what you aim for, building upon your skills and showing you patterns that might or might not like to continue using…

I’m working with Tongass Mist Writers in Alaska. Have a look here:https://www.tongassmist.com/event-details/commit-to-the-page-a-10-month-manuscript-revision-and-publishing-quest

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6. Donations really help. Wanderlust Journal is a free online resource for publishing and reading travel essays and photo-stories. Same for Substack. Pretty much for everything I do…! It’s lucky I live in a little caravan (Travel trailer to you) and enjoy nature more than shopping. Anyway, even if you can only give a little, it helps me do what I’m committed to doing, ever since a teenager, and that is documenting other lifestyles, cultures, experiences and then sharing them with you.  

Think of these projects next time you are able to give a little, thank you. 

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