Tuesday, January 18, 2022

FLASHBACK: Baja Peninsula (1987)

Alaska, Australia and now, the Baja Peninsula with my father, our least successful road trip even though this time we travelled in style.  Dad had purchased a Vanagon, a high end VW camper van with a pop top,  and we towed the Honda 100cc motorcycle he and Mom had given me as a Christmas gift, less than a year before I left for college.

The Mexican love of color and American culture was on full display in Ensenada.


You rarely see a dog this skinny in America.


We found Day of the Dead memorials in the middle of nowhere.


I'd grown up in the desert, but the landscape felt much different, perhaps because of its isolation.








Dad suggested including the knife in this photo to give a better sense of the size of the spider and her egg sac.  Pretty sure he learned this trick from the crime scene photos he collected in Japan.


Our route stayed mostly inland until we detoured to the Gulf of California, tucked in between the east side of the peninsula and the Mexican mainland.  The sand dunes were prettier than the shallow, murky water.


Dad had warned me about driving faster than 40 mph after we filled up on Mexican gas because lower octane levels would affect the performance of a combustion engine. 


I didn't listen and the engine seized up about halfway to Cabo San Lucas, our final destination.  Fortunately, we hailed a passing vehicle and the driver gave us a ride into San Ignacio, a sleepy oasis.  And the motel manager allowed us to leave the Vanagon until we could retrieve it in exchange for a gift of imported sneakers. 


The irregularity of public transportation gave us a day on our own to explore.



To his credit Dad never said it.  I got the message from the back of this truck.


It took 12 hours to get to Tijuana on a crowded Mexican bus.  With chickens!


A neighbor lent us his truck when we returned to El Paso.  I am ashamed to admit that I nearly flew back to New York instead of accompanying Dad.  Filial duty prevailed in the end--along with a near arrest by Mexican police for illegally importing orange palm fronds that I picked up from the side of the road--but we never took another trip together.  I began spending all my vacation time in the Pines, with a different family.


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