Day 25 Miles: 120

Are we there yet?

We crossed back into Baja California today, regaining our lost hour.

I was boarded at a military checkpoint; the young man spoke no English. He did not ask to see papers. He lifted the bed mattress, opened the ottoman, and pet the cat.

The roads today were really fucked up. A semi and I met on a curve, causing us both to stop dead. My mirror was two inches from the side of his rig. I honked my horn. I moved further right, taking both the right rear dually tires off the paved surface and rocking to the right. He moved forward slowly. The mirror lived.

Rig #4 radioed congratulations on the near miss. I radioed back, “When I get home, I am going to bronze that mirror.” She replied, “To go with your cajones?” HA!

Enduring potholes and narrow roads, I anticipated our payoff of Bajia de Los Angeles, a sleepy fishing town which my RV air conditioner repair guy gave rave reviews. And I thought the prior roads were bad. Large sections of the roadway near the bay were washed out during the last flood in October, and no one’s gotten around to fixing them yet.

We arrived at Daggett’s Beach Camping, a sleepy little stretch of beach that caters to fishing.

There was confusion and hurt feelings when larger rigs were told to park parallel to the water, blocking the views not only in our group but for those already camping in tents and small vans. Then we walked down to the beach, which is littered with garbage and fish skeletons – the fish parts I sort of understand being fed to the sea birds, but the garbage? A family of caretakers lives on premises, but no one can be bothered to clean up. What a crying effing shame.

Tomorrow we take a tour of town. I am longing for that week in Palm Springs.