New off-road adventures in Baja California, Mexico

Grasping the roof handle and silently looking at the dashboard, I avert my gaze from the 160-foot drop to my left. There are only six inches of dirt road between us and the edge of the cliff: one wrong move from our driver and the pickup we're in goes straight into the Sea of ​​Cortés.

The first time I visited Baja California in Mexico, the second longest peninsula in the world, was on a backpacking trip through Central America. I hitchhiked and bused more than 650 miles from Tijuana, on the border with the United States, to Todos Santos, just before Baja's southernmost point, Cabo San Lucas. Driving the Carretera Transpeninsular, I stopped at every major town along the main Baja highway, tasted wine in Ensenada, watched whales in Guerrero Negro, and swam with sea lions on the Espiritu Santo island.

During these long drives, I would stare at the desert landscape for hours: salt-encrusted fatwood shrubs and giant cardón cacti grew on stretches of sand and clay-red mountains, which often turned cotton candy pink at night. sunset. But what caught my attention were the narrow dirt roads, hundreds of them crisscrossing the desert like a map drawn in the sand, leaving the highway toward sunny sierras and hidden turquoise coves. One day, I told myself, I would go back to Baja California to see where these roads led.

Five years later, I came to La Paz, in the south of the Baja California peninsula, to participate in Baja Expeditions' first-ever land trip. The company has specialized in whale watching, kayaking and wild camping in the state since the 1970s, but has recently branched out into offering off-road tours to encourage visitors to explore the lesser interior. visited the peninsula.

“People think Baja is all beaches and whales,” says our driver Mike Thorneycroft, a Canadian who moved to Baja California in 2020. “But it’s more than that. These trips aim to take people out of the resort towns and into Baja's less visited communities, and experience some of their history and culture.

Mike gets us safely over the cliff edge, easily skirting potholes and asteroid-sized rocks as we climb above the Sierra de la Laguna, part of a mountain range that connects Baja California Sur, the southern state of Baja California, to the south. California in the United States.

On slightly wider roads, I begin to relax and admire the view: unlike the parched desert I had seen from the highway years ago, these mountains are lush from recent hurricane rains, blooming with lime green mesquite trees and pink and yellow wildflowers. . We pass through arroyos – dry riverbeds that fill after heavy rains – flowing with crystal clear water, where orange butterflies and free-ranging piglets from a nearby ranch take a drink. A vulture and a flamboyant red cardinal bird join soon after.

“Baja California is perfect for off-roading,” says Mike, who organizes and competes in long-distance off-road rallies across the state. “The roads are rocky, wild and unpredictable, changing rapidly during the rainy season. But that's what makes it exciting.

Near the ancient silver mining town of El Triunfo, we stop at the Santuario de los Cactus, a community garden with some of the oldest and rarest cacti on the planet, including the cardón, the largest cactus in the world. The garden's grey-moustached volunteer caretaker, Guadalupe “Lupe” Gonzalez, gives us a tour, showing us which cactus fruits are edible and how to extract water from their flesh. He also shows us species of cactus used to treat kidney stones, stomach aches and open wounds.

“It was thanks to the rancheros (ranchers) that I discovered the medicinal properties of cacti,” says Lupe, stroking the spines of a 400-year-old cactus as if they were whiskers. He has been caring for the plants here for over 30 years and offers guided tours of the garden for a small donation. “But this knowledge comes from the Indians. There aren't any left here, but we know how to survive in the desert thanks to them.

Before the arrival of the Spanish, Baja California was inhabited by three large indigenous groups: the Cochimí, the Guaycura and the Pericú. Ancient cave paintings in the Sierra de San Francisco, about 465 miles north of me and described by UNESCO as one of the most impressive collections of cave paintings in the world, suggest that these tribes lived on the peninsula since at least 10,000 years old.

Although the Spanish colonized Baja California much later than the Mexican mainland, toward the end of the 17th century, the culture and history of these local indigenous groups were erased more quickly than in the rest of Mexico. Some experts believe this is because the region's indigenous groups were nomadic hunter-gatherers, lacking the large cities and societal structures that helped preserve the legacy of the Mayans and Aztecs in other Mexican states. . Today, very few indigenous groups remain, most living in northern Baja California.

After a few hours of driving on the spectacular Barriles Santa Teresa coastal road, we begin the steep descent to Palo Blanquito beach, where we will spend the night. It is a strip of wild sand, where milky red cliffs collapse into a dazzling turquoise sea dotted with volcanic rocks. At sunset, there is only our truck on the beach and a flock of pelicans floating on the still water, like rubber ducks in a jade-colored bath. We eat refried beans and chicken burritos under the stars, watching a bright white crescent moon rise above the water. That night, I sleep to the sound of the waves coming gently onto the shore.

The next morning, I watch the beach come alive from my tent. As the sun rises above the horizon, the sea turns from liquid silver to light pink, illuminating the interior of the tent with a warm glow. A family of pelicans – each resembling a light aircraft – flies over the water with their mouths open, hoping to catch one of the flying fish flipping in the air. Eager to join the action, I step out of the tent and into the sea, diving headfirst into the crystal clear water with my mask and snorkel. Beneath the surface lies an underwater city of coral and volcanic rock, and colorful fish: I see a long, translucent hornfish; a little Cortez rainbow Napoleon; and a huge school of California yellowtails, the soft morning light bouncing off their tinfoil-like skin.

It's tempting to stay longer on this wild, deserted beach, lounging on the rocks and floating in the warm turquoise waters like the resident pelicans do. But Mike has packed up and started the engine: it's time to continue our journey through the desert roads of Baja California. “That’s the problem with overlanding,” Mike said, opening the passenger door so I could get in. “There is always another road to explore.”