Baja Journal - May 19, 2022
Our expedition begins in the bustling tourist commune of La Paz - a colorful and eccentric gateway to a much different experience.
Our driver Abi, a local mechanic and guide, pulls up in a busted 90s Chevy 4WD SUV. He propped the rear view window with a broom handle - I threw my bags in the car and we were off. Our route, three hours up the Sea of Cortez to the village of San Evarista.
Asphalt soon morphed into dust, an arid heat, navigated by few excluding several families of local fisherman. I watched the bars of cell service slowly grow smaller, each line less connected to the outside world and putting myself more into this one - the desert and an endless sea of cacti.
Abi hadn’t said a word the entire journey - the silent type, in his home, a part of the desert and its steep inclines and nuance. We stopped on a cliff side overlooking the Sea of Cortez - our radiator scorching from the Mexican sun. Our precious commodity of water used as a last resort coolant, Abi as assumed, said nothing throughout this hiccup.
Our expedition continued through the desert canyons, an eerie display of shrines greeted us through the passes - tributes to lives taken by the desert. Narrow valleys converted into steep cliff sides, a one lane passage.
The village of San Evarista is a miracle - resting underneath the mountains of Baja and the Sea of Cortez, it’s a symbol of human endeavor, a representation of will - settling a new life in one of earths most unforgiving environments. Nestled against the water, small fishing boats settled between a fresh breeze and a still sea, speaking whispers under small lapping wind swells.
To be continued...