We packed up early, and Tad had one last joyful romp with his buddy Rusty before we said heartfelt goodbyes to our dear friend Juan. With the dogs settled and the rig ready, we rolled out of Ciudad Insurgentes heading north toward Playa Santa Inés, just past Mulegé.
The highway south of Insurgentes is a long, straight ribbon of pavement—until the mountains rise to meet you. While the road is mostly in good shape, stretches riddled with potholes kept me on my toes (and my speed around 50 mph). I was even able to use the cruise control for a while, which helps keep my foot from growing heavy—though the narrow, shoulder-less road ensures that any speed increase is met with gentle alarms from the passenger seat. Thankfully, Janice hasn’t had to use her famous pig Latin this year: “Lowsa heta uckfa ownda, Aseyka!”
Driving in Baja requires a kind of rhythm—always keeping an eye on the side mirror for faster drivers. It’s custom here to slow down and flash your left turn signal to let others know it’s safe to pass. It usually works like a charm. That said, we had one hair-raising moment last year when a semi clipped our driver-side mirror during a miscalculated pass on a rough stretch north of Guerrero Negro. No damage—just adrenaline, crumpled nerves, and slightly stained underwear. Thankfully, nothing like that this year.
As we climbed into the Sierra de la Giganta, the landscape transformed. Steep grades and hairpin turns demanded full attention, especially with the occasional pothole thrown in for good measure. Broken guardrails and roadside memorials were sobering reminders that these roads don’t suffer fools.
In Loreto, we made a quick stop—and finally, success! After days of trying, I was able to get some pesos from an ATM. Turns out, our bank merger delayed card access, but it finally worked today. Just in time.
By the time we reached Mulegé, we were ready for lunch and stopped at Señor Gecko’s, where we were warmly welcomed by the owner, Saul. We had the place to ourselves. Janice ordered three shrimp tacos, and I went with three fish tacos—both meals were enormous and incredibly tasty.
We passed our usual beach spot, Playa Santispac (Mucho-packed), but it was packed wall-to-wall. That made us even more thankful we’d decided to try somewhere new: Playa Santa Inés.
We weren’t quite sure what to expect as we turned onto a sandy, twisting road that led us three miles out to the Santa Inés Trailer Park. When we arrived, we were greeted warmly by the family who owns the campground—several generations strong. No one spoke English, so I got to put my Spanish to good use. We chose to stay two nights at $300 pesos per night (about $15 USD). Unfortunately, I had already spent over half our pesos at Señor Gecko’s, and while they don’t accept cards, the family graciously agreed to take dollars.
For the record, “Trailer Park” here doesn’t mean rows of RVs. Instead, we found a series of palapa-covered campsites spread out along the beach, each with a water spigot and incredible views. The office had bathrooms, hot showers, WiFi, and a nearby dump station. Simple, clean, and just what we needed.
We set up camp, the sea stretching out before us and a cactus-studded desert rising behind. As the sun dipped behind the mountains, we took Lincoln and Tad for a long beach walk, followed by a swim in the gentle waves.
And just before bed, we couldn’t resist one more walk—this time under a full moon rising over the Sea of Cortez. The tide rolled in, the waves crashing under silver light, and once again we were reminded how deeply fortunate we are to experience the beauty and wonderment of the Baja Peninsula.
Super photo! Beautiful place to camp. DP
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