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Day 10, March 4, 2001

Bahia de Los Angeles to San Quintin
(219 miles; 6 hours, 40 minutes, lots of stops)

In the morning we awoke early to the sound of lots of noisy dirt bikes starting up in the parking lot. A group of bikers, mostly Mexican, were on a Baja tour together. The owner of "Kory Racing" loved the Hummer, and asked to take pictures of himself next to it and in it. He even affixed his logo to the door, and posed next to it as if he owned it. Dad and I had fun talking to the bikers, and took some pictures with them. They tried to talk Dad into doing a trip with them, but Dad regretfully declined, citing his old age and some other lame excuses. Jesse was not amused, however. He had not slept well in his chilly room, and he hadn't seen the extra blankets in the closet. Jesse was pretty cranky, but finally conceded that this must be how his neighbors felt when he fired up his Harley late at night or early in the morning. He mumbled something about his karma and went off in search of coffee.

We also met two blokes from England who were hitchhiking their way down the peninsula. Gary and Ben were absolutely amazed at the hospitality and help they'd gotten from the local Mexicans -- especially the poorest people they met. While gringos would pass them by on the road, the Mexicans were sure to stop and offer a ride. At a fish camp they were invited to stay and eat with the men, and one of the fishermen even gave them a tortoise shell. The fisherman would not accept any money in return. Ben had also cut himself pretty badly while surfing, and a Mexican family took them both home, fixed Ben up, and fed them dinner. I took a digital video of Ben talking about his surfing injury, and gave them yet another precious floppy disk. Next time I am going to bring a lot more disks!

We went back over to the Costa del Sol for coffee, and met Gene, an expat who fell in love with LA Bay years ago and just stayed. He sold his trucking business in Chino, and spends his time avoiding telephones and relatives. We had a pleasant conversation with Gene, and then it was time to hit the road once again.

By now the Hummer looked like a true Baja mobile. It had grown cholla antlers and a thick layer of Baja dirt. Fine dust filled every nook and cranny, inside and out. We piled into our dusty chariot, cranked up the Bob Marley, and headed back to San Quintin, where we knew hot showers awaited us.

Musically speaking, we found our common ground in Bob Marley, Jimmy Buffet and Harry Chapin. After a few attempts at playing the other CDs I'd brought, including some Irish folk music, the Gypsy Kings, and some mellow instrumental music, Jesse finally stuck a dollar bill in my CD holder next to a CD he liked, and begged me not to play the mellow stuff any more. I took the hint and from then on we stuck to the mutual favorites, ignoring the occasional skips as we bumped along the dirt roads.

Back on the main highway, we stopped to help out an Austrian couple from Laguna Beach who were attempting to fix a flat on their motorhome. They were very nice, and were headed to San Quintin, as well. They recommended a restaurant called El Cielito Lindo located near La Pinta in the El Cielito resort, and said we must try the crab claws.

We stopped in San Quintin to get cash at an ATM, and actually found one that worked (after finding one that didn't). Several well-dressed children begged for dollars, and I gave them a few. Dad said afterwards that he didn't like to see the kids begging, and he didn't think it was good for them or for us. He was right, and I wished I had been able to say, "No, lo siento." The children need their dignity more than they need our dollars.

Back at the La Pinta, we all praised Buddha (OK, maybe not all of us did that) for the hot showers and abundant supply of towels. (I had FOUR TOWELS in my bathroom -- an unprecedented luxury!)

After showering, we walked down to the beautiful, nearly empty beach and watched a very blue, moody sunset on the beach. A few locals came up and introduced themselves. One was a math teacher, and he was there with his sister and her husband. They looked through Dad's camera with the fish-eye lens, and watched the sunset with us. We all thrilled to see dolphins jumping just past the surf. They seemed proud to share their beach with us, and happy that we enjoyed its magnificence.

Back in the lobby, we borrowed the desk clerk's phone again and called Pam. She told us there had been a big earthquake in Seattle, and that seemed very unreal. Home seemed far away and unreal at this point in our trip. We hadn't gotten any news this week, except a weather report from the East Coast. It's almost better not to think about the "real world" when you are immersed in such a magical place.

Hunger directed our plans once again, and we set off to find the crab claws. We ran into our Austrian friends at El Cielito Lindo, and profusely thanked them for the recommendation. The crab claws, or "jaibo," were amazingly delicious. Muy sabrosa! Not only that, but Max, a resident boxer-dane mix, fell hard for Dad. Max looked lovingly at Dad while attempting to mount him at the dinner table. We all agreed it wasn't plain old lust -- that Max had found true love in Dad. But alas, one of the waiters eventually noticed Max's amorous behavior, and put an end to the affair.

We paid our $30 tab (our first real bargain of the trip, considering we had consumed two huge platters of claws, three salads, six beers and a mineral water) and headed back for La Pinta.

We went to bed with full bellies and warm heaters, dreaming of dolphins and sunsets, crab claws and ... Max?