Still wingin’ it, I left the comforts of Encinitas, skipped the Suck (primarily because of my bad back), and headed for the border. A quick stop in San Ysidro to get Mexican car insurance - it’s just like regular car insurance, much less exciting in real life than it sounds. Baja isn’t necessarily a place you want to wing it, and I read in many places not to drive at night. The roads aren’t lit, the drop-offs steep and frequently unexpected and without safety railings, sudden off-ramps, on-ramps, etc. Less than 5 minutes into Baja and these warnings become very real. Fours cars collided just inches away from me in one of those “it could only happen in Mexico” accidents. A car in the lane to my left came to a halt and then veered right into my lane because its hood flew open onto its windshield. I was lucky enough to stop just in time as was the car behind me. Three cars to my left screeched to a halt just in time, but a fourth car did not, smashing all four cars but not little red riding hood. An ominous start? I didn’t think so. If I could escape that, I can escape anything!
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| Rosarito! |
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| Beachfront house for sale! |
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| Could be, or was, a surf shop |
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| Mexican coast highway |
Less than an hour later, I made it to the well known Robert’s K-38 Surf Hostel just south of Rosarito. With incredible 5-6 ft surf right in front of the hostel, and $1 tacos delicioso a short walk away, I knew I made the right choice. The cook deftly flips meat and tortillas on the grill using his bare hands. Hand-made tacos!
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| Surf's a pumping |
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| Dude, a beer! |
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| The right at K-38 at sunset |
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| The right at K-38 in the morning |
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| A giant statue of Jesus at K-38, in case you're lost - navigationally or spiritually |
The hostel itself is pretty basic. A room with a bed. One shared bathroom. A giant Rottweiler named Buddy. Gated parking. For $40/night. Luxury accomodations indeed. The first night I talked with a travelling laborer, who was on his way south after earning some money driving and picking strawberries. Supposedly a wife and daughter though I never saw either. Robert is still there. 82 years young. Still dives though he gave up surfing 10 years ago. Guess I better think of something to do when I'm older and can't surf. Duke's K-69 surf hotel?
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| Luxury accomodations |
After a fantastic morning session, I tried to make it a few hours farther south to Punto Colonet. Unfortunately, one needs a tourist permit past Ensenada and no offices were open on Sunday. And realistically, with my remaining schedule, that was it. So I spent a lazy, quiet afternoon in Ensenada, or as quiet as one could get while surrounded by a bunch of drunken American idiots.
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| Future location of Duke's K-69 Surf Hostel? |
I explored a few other camp options along the way, lots of places with potential or lost potential. Chuy’s looked like the most fun. Only 100 pesos ($5) for the night, an open air, ocean front kitchen and bath. A real shithole bathroom - a toilet over a hole in the ground. Did not explore where the hole terminated below, probably right into the ocean. In other words, an A+ surf camp, where I relaxed, played my newly acquired Mexican ATG (all terrain guitar), drank beer and soaked in the sun.
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| Surf camping: sun, surf, beer, music |
Ultimately though, I went back to K-38 because the surf at Chuy’s was degrading. Again, the right call, surf-wise. That night, I met a pair of Austrian surfers travelling down the coast from Santa Cruz to Panama. I sure as heck did not expect to meet surfers from landlocked Austria (not Australia) and I’m sure they didn’t expect to meet a German speaking Asian-American, but that’s why one goes on these types of adventures, right?
The morning surf was again epic, and again, I had it all to myself. Breakfast at the cafe next door was amazing. We could watch the abuelita rolling dough for fresh tortillas she put directly on our plates from the pan. Yum!
And just like that, my brief sojourn in Baja was about over. I headed back up to somewhere, San Diego. An hour wait at the border and that was it. Three days, a couple of epic surf sessions, a pair of very sore shoulders, a cheap ATG, and lots of memories.
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