Loreto

Loreto is known as the Mother of All Californian Missions. The Jesuits, followed by the Franciscans and Dominicans, who came from the Mexican mainland, spread out north and south from there all the way to present day Sonoma County, north of San Francisco. Loreto never developed as a tourist hot spot. So the real estate is still affordable and it's easy to find a hotel room. We had beautiful views from our hotel right on the malecon (sea front). It was great to watch the pelican patrols flying low over the water, and sunrises over the mountain peaks of nearby islands strung like a necklace across the bay, which is a huge maritime nature reserve. We rode bikes around town, and to a nearby estuary beach to watch pelicans sit atop distant piles, dozens of vultures circling overhead, and herons hopping lazily from one fishing spot to the next, as the sun melted into the West.

Day two found us snorkeling for the first time in wet suits, from a desert island on which we had been dropped off for the day. The mode of transportation was a high-speed fiberglass skiff ("panga") which bounced us hard on the waves. The snorkeling was pretty but nothing like the Red Sea. However, the beach combing was superb.

We stayed three nights at "Baja Outpost", which was run by an ex-pat with a limp and a solicitous dog. He was a tad slick but operated efficient diving tours and could answer all of W's ten zillion questions. In the mornings they served breakfast to all the guests on the porch overlooking the bay. One morning, the cook put out his bagels by accident. He caught H trying to cut one and shrieked "Hey! Those are MY bagels, put them back!" as if she was holding his stolen wallet or worse. Mr. Ex-pat, who had acquired a taste for bagels, lox, and cream cheese when he lived in the States, was feeling very bagel-deprived living in Mexico. So much so, that he convinced himself that the days old, rock hard bagels were a luxury.

San Javier

The next day we went overland to San Javier, a tiny, dusty agricultural hamlet of sixty souls, deep in the rugged mountains. Yes, for another Mission, ultimately, but on the way we stopped to admire a wild white fig tree growing out of a sheer face of solid rock, and Indian cave paintings next to a scenic stream with deep pools reflecting the surrounding palm trees and jagged mountains. It was a beautiful oasis in the desert. It's a pity that other tourists had already desecrated the cave art. In the town, we were able to sample homemade "candy", which should have had another name, as it was more like marmalade. But it was good.

Mulege

Mulege was another beautiful oasis, which seemed to have mucho gringos. There was one museum, a territorial prison, which closed its doors in the early 1970s when Baja Sur became Mexico's last state. [So remote a backwater was this place that it took all this time to achieve statehood.] The well-behaved and lesser criminals were allowed out during the day to go to town to visit, work and even marry as long as they were back at sunset. We stayed at the most rustic, atmospheric hotel in town, which had the thinnest walls, oldest mattresses and shakiest plumbing. We were across the street from "Super Disco," the hotspot for local teenagers, so the walls shook at night. When not vibrating to the music, we were entertained by listening to the moaning and groaning of nearby couples. At least the food was good at the hotel's restaurant. It was nice to have Christmas Eve dinner by a fireplace. But sleep was not to be had.

Bahia de Concepcion

On Christmas Eve Day, we went a little South of town to an encampment, "Eco Mundo" on the shores of this stunning bay. Eco Mundo was run by a Norte Americano, who let us have his last two kayaks. On this beautifully calm day in the Bahia de Concepcion, we kayaked first to one island, for a swim and a walk, and then, in the longest stretch, to a far island with a little beach. We ended the outing with a soak in a hot mud bath, created by the low tide. So low was the tide that we had to carry the kayaks back to shore.

San Ignacio

In search of a good night's sleep, we drove out of Mulege on Xmas day. We passed through Santa Rosalia but found all the restaurants closed. So we drove on to a smaller town, San Ignacio, a quiet oasis in the middle of the Vizcaina desert, with a beautiful 18^th century plaza with giant laurel trees. After doing the museum-mission routine, we looked into the possibility of seeing whales. But no way, Jose. They thought we were very silly to even ask; why would the whales change their schedule? We had a spicy marinated pork and date Christmas dinner. Delicious!

Santa Rosalia

Because there had been so few whale sightings, we decided not to travel any further north. So we drove South again. This time we spent the night in Santa Rosalia at the full-of-character Victorian "French Hotel". This old French-flavor town had a copper-works factory formerly owned by the Rothschilds. There was a prefab Eiffel iron church here, designed by the same Eiffel Tower architect. And a French bakery too! The baked goodies we bought carried us all the way down to our next destination on the Pacific coast. We are glad we saw this intact French colonial town in the middle of "Mexican nowhere."

Puerto San Carlos

The guidebook says that there is only one reason to come to this town on the other side of Baja California, and that's to see the marine life. The hotel receptionist helped us to arrange a boat ride the next morning with who came complete with an itinerary and business cards.

We saw the sun rise on the water. Enrique, who was muy simpatico, started with mangroves, where there were egrets and herons, and then to the "bird hotel", which was a sand bar with many thousands of pelicans, cormorants, and sandpipers. The highlight was many schools of dancing dolphins. Though we asked every fisherman we came across if they had seen "ballenas" (whales), the answer was always no. Still it was nice to see the old whaling station, and eat fresh prawns and lobster at a fishing village on an outer island. Enrique got a big tip. We decided that there was another reason to come to this town, and that's that the people were so nice.

La Paz

We spent the next night in La Paz, the bright lights, big city and capital of Baja Sur. It is situated overlooking a large bay on the Sea of Cortez like Loreto, only much bigger. Being our first time and the holiday season, it was difficult to find a hotel room. But we managed to get one in the well run Hotel Perla. It was the only hotel room we had with a phone. We needed the phone when, at six the next morning, someone took it upon himself to test their musical sound system. [In macho Mexico the bigger the sound equipment, the bigger the man you are.] After hearing blaring accordion party music for half an hour, H called reception and sleepily begged them to do something. The reception thought we were trying to order room service, which they said was not available until seven a.m.

Todos Santos

On we drove southwest to Todos Santos, a gringo artist community with many galleries, beautiful gardens, and five real estate offices. It was near three beaches, each with a different character. There was the RV/surfer dude beach, where college-age Americanos hung out, the fishing pangas beach, where the Mexican fisherman had to race ashore with split second timing and much practice to beat the large waves, and a nature preserve beach which had bird filled marshes nearby. We stayed one night at a romantic inn, and two nights at a clean dive at the edge of town. Here we passed New Year's Eve. There we were, attempting to sleep in a too small bed, with too short covers and blaring music right under the window. We should have probably found a party to join, but we had to drive all the way to Loreto the next day. Thus we celebrated 01/01/01 with a sip of real caffeine.

Loreto

After a relatively pleasant and uneventful daylong drive back up through the desert, we were at our point of origin. This time, we stayed at a different hotel, made from renovated antique grain silos from the Mexican highlands. They had a nice cacti garden, which led to a rocky beach with many fishing pangas, and a lap cat.

NO MORE could we eat beans, guacamole and deep-fried fish tacos, we were ready for home.