This past weekend I was down in Baja. Everyone I talked to voiced the same concern. Tourism is off this year big time. Why? Well, first there was the new $15 tourist fee, then the land dispute in Punta Banda. From there we had media reports of a (bogus for Baja) $800 bond per car, and, finally, worst of all, the fatal accidents on the Tijuana Ensenada toll road. The result? Mass paranoia, which has convinced most of us we’d be better off spending our vacation or retirement dollars elsewhere---somewhere safe and sanitary.

Let me assure you that the tourist fee isn’t a big deal. Now you can purchase Tourist Visas through Discover Baja Travel Club and don't have to stop in Tijuana or Ensenada to get them filled out and make another trip to the bank to pay. The land dispute in Punta Banda is over a tiny piece of property and, from what I just heard, it’s back in court again. The ejido, private landowners and residents alike in Punta Banda are united in helping these people keep their homes. Ninety-nine per cent of the Americans who own homes down there have viable land leases. The accidents? That’s a little more complex. My father told me something early on that helps here. It is: "You are a guest in a foreign country. Follow the rules. Be friendly and treat the people with respect. They will treat you accordingly. Behave at least as well as you would at home.”

I’ve added to this over the years: Get Mexican car insurance. If you travel more than 10 or 11 days a year in Baja, it’s cheaper to get an annual policy than a daily one. Don’t drink and drive. Don’t drive at night if you can help it. Do stop to help stranded motorists. You never know when you may need the road karma yourself. If a big rig in front of you on the highway turns on his left blinker, it means it’s safe to pass. If you’re driving a motor home, use the same courtesy to those behind you, as the road south of Ensenada is two-lane until you get to San Jose del Cabo. If you want to buy a home down south, as we have, research the title. And, last but not least---beware of what’s reported in the U.S. press. It is unfortunately full of cultural misunderstanding.

I’ve been traveling (safely and sanely) in Baja my entire life. My first big trip was spring break, 1961, when I was eight and my sister, Nina had just turned seven. We drove with my parents to the Tijuana Airport and boarded a DC-6 bound for La Paz. Two hours later we landed in a tiny airport pretty much out in the middle of nowhere. As we got off the plane, my dad grabbed both Nina’s and my hands and pulled us over to this really tall gringo in a cowboy hat who was surrounded by people. He and my dad had words, he crouched down and reached for both of us, just as my father whipped out his camera. Nina jumped onto his knee; I held back and stayed next to my dad.

 It was John Wayne. Nina had her picture taken with him. Our whole week was as magical as that moment. We stayed at a hotel right on the bay. Every morning we went out sport fishing and anchored off a different beach for lunch. Our mom taught us to snorkel and we explored the warm, aquamarine waters that teemed with brightly colored tropical fish. We hunted for shells and picnicked on the sand. Nina and I ate tacos for breakfast every morning (we still do whenever possible) and every single piece of clothing we tossed onto the floor of our hotel room was washed, ironed and folded when we returned after our daily adventures. I met a girl my age from Mexico City on this trip, and over the years we visited each other several times, staying in each other’s homes, going to each other’s schools and exploring each other’s lives.

I’m a third generation Baja Aficionada. My grandpa, Pappy Hazard, traveled Baja from the 1930s on, going along on a few of Erle Stanley Gardner’s journeys. In case you don’t know who Mr. Gardner is he was the creator of the Perry Mason Series. He was also a serious, innovative Baja Lover who explored the peninsula by truck, homemade ATV, helicopter, airplane and even a blimp. He wrote several entertaining books about his escapades that you can find in the public libraries. My dad started going on fishing and hunting expeditions to Baja when he was about eight. This was back in the days when it took all day to get from Tijuana to Ensenada on a windy little dirt road. The only access to Punta Banda, where my grandpa had a fishing shack was a road that could only be negotiated at low tide otherwise it was under water! A far cry from the easy two-hour drive these days....

 My family camped on deserted beaches in northern Baja when I was a kid. We flew with renowned Baja pilot Francisco Muñoz into remote places like Bahía de Los Angeles and Mulegé places that were unreachable except by air and dirt road until Mex 1 was paved in late 1973. Both of my kids have been coming to Baja since they were in my belly. I’ve shared a house in La Bufadora with Nina for the past six years and have traveled the entire peninsula two and a half times in the last two years.

I guess it’s obvious that I’ve always loved Baja. Why, you ask? Well, it’s the last outback left in our corner of the world. It’s a place where my children have run free since they were little --- able to hike, kayak, swim, snorkel, ride horses, explore beaches, tide pools and bargain for goodies in the local shops. I’ve always felt more at home in Baja than up here. I love the endless empty hills, sunny skies and see-through turquoise water. I love the food, the foot-stomping music, the fiestas, and of course the Mexican people with their easy-going, friendly, everybody-helps-everybody-else attitude.

 Let me tell you a couple of secrets about Mexicans. They believe life is to be enjoyed, that integrity is paramount and that God and family are more important than money. Theirs may be considered a third world country, but guess what? They don't think they're deprived. Raise the hood of any ancient Baja troque (truck) and you will instantly appreciate Mexican ingenuity. These folks are more resourceful than we could ever imagine. They’ve raised recycling to an art form. And they will use even the lamest of excuses to throw a fiesta. From gray-haired grannies to Pampers-clad toddlers, everyone gets into the spirit of revelry. Food abounds, cerveza and tequila flow and Mariachis play. Ah yes....

My kids, Terry and I just spent 18 days in Baja over the holidays. There are two incidents from this trip that I want to share with you. The first took place in Ciudad Constitución, over 800 miles south of the border. This is not a tourist town --- it’s an agricultural and commercial center and an excellent place for vehicle repairs. We pulled into town for gas on our way south in a 1983 motor home with four bald, unevenly wearing tires on the rear. At a llantera (used tire store) where we stopped, there were no tires to fit our rig. I was told that we could make it to La Paz (122 miles away) if we went really, really slow. Not good news. I asked where we could buy new tires and was directed to the Good Year Tire Store on the main drag. The guy there told me (yes, I speak passable Spanish, which helps a lot!) this about our rear duals, while shaking his head: "¡No sirve por nada!" --- meaning they were good for nothing! For $370 we got four new tires, mounted and balanced within an hour. At home I would’ve had to make an appointment in advance, leave my car for half a day and find someone to drive me back and forth. I would’ve paid more too.

 Ten days later, on New Year’s Eve 2000, we were in Guerrero Negro, another non-tourist town that houses the world’s largest salt operation. We spent the morning on Laguna Ojo de Liebre cruising in a panga with gray whales. For 45 minutes our boat followed a mama and newborn calf as we all watched the baby gradually gain strength and learn to swim on his own. At first he could barely hold his head above water and was forced to lay sideways across his mom’s back while she held him up so he could breathe. By the time the pair pulled away from another approaching panga, the baby was able to swim freely alongside his mother. The rapture on my kids’ faces as they sat in the front of the panga is something I will never, ever forget....

 In the evening we watched the greatest fireworks extravaganza any of us had ever seen. It lasted for 75 minutes, there were two towers of pinwheels, two and three stories high and there were six mini-finales before the grand finale. My kids sat on a wall, surrounded by Mexican kids, snapping photos as fast as they could. Our group of 23 was the only group of gringos around for this celebration put on by the Mexican Government and Mitsubishi. Later, we went onto a fancy fiesta where we were also the only group of gringos. When midnight struck, everyone in sight hugged me or shook my hand, wishing me a "Happy New Year" or a "Feliz Año." It didn’t matter that I was in jeans and they were in formal attire.

 Yes. I love Baja. You will too if you prefer wide open spaces to crowded malls. You will too if you remember my dad’s and my advice, use your head, relax, smile and open up your senses. Get in touch with that pioneer spirit within and maybe --- just maybe --- you’ll become one of us --- counting the days till you get to go south again!

REPRINTED FROM THE COAST NEWS, February 24, 2000

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