La Ultima Dia

Day 15, March 9, 2001
Rosarito to Los Angeles
La Ultima Dia

We rose early to get a head start on the border traffic, but got stuck in it anyway. We weren't exactly eager to return, but the trip had really started its "home stretch" the moment we turned northward. I am going to remember that for future reference. It's better to stay pointed south as long as you can, even if it means some long, grueling days on the way home. At least that way you stretch the vacation mentally for as long as possible.

As we approached the border crossing and the taciturn guards in their booths, Dad somehow missed the sign that says everyone must stop and talk to the all-important customs clerk. We drove right past the little lighted booth, with our dirty Hummer and its cholla antlers. I guess we looked a little bit like a moose charging the border. The guy in the booth fumed and waved at us to come back. I yelped at Dad, afraid the guy might start shooting. Dad backed up to the booth, apologetic and friendly, and the customs official yelled at us, "Don't you ever do that to me again!"

I couldn't help thinking that it was highly unlikely that we would ever do that to him again, but if we were tired and dazed from another really long trip to Baja, we might possibly do it to someone other customs control freak. But of course you don't argue with angry customs officials.

So we got sent to the inspection area. At least we didn't get shot or jailed. After a bit of a wait, a woman customs officer came and looked at the Hummer. She said we had to give up the cholla antlers, that we couldn't take this type of cactus out of Mexico. She asked if we had any more of the cholla, and Jesse said simply, "Isn't that enough?" She seemed to agree to this logic, and we filled up a 32-gallon trash can with the contraband cholla skeletons. Jesse didn't exactly lie. It probably was enough cactus for most people, but we had lots more tucked in out-of-sight places. I think she may have suspected that, but she was nice to us and didn't even search the Hummer for other booty.

We left the border, sort of glad to be back in America again.

On the freeway people stared at us in the dirt-encrusted Hummer, and I was glad that it wasn't all clean and shiny. And that we weren't a bunch of yuppies who would never think of going offroad in our Hummer. And I was glad that we had shared this amazing journey together -- that we had strengthened even further the deep bonds between us.

And I daydreamed of when we would return, and whether we would find it the same -- if Baja would still be magic.