The wind howled all night at Campo Beluga. Families camping nearby had arranged their vehicles like windbreaks, but even inside our motorhome, it felt like the gusts might knock us over. I can only imagine what the night was like for those sleeping in tents.
In the morning, we readied for departure. Kasey said goodbye to Raphaël Diaz, who seemed a bit under the weather. Our plan was to reach San Felipe by lunchtime. Being the Friday before Easter, the roads were bustling—plenty of traffic heading south, a clear sign that holiday celebrations were underway.
As we drove north, I passed the time reading from the geology book Ken Carloni gave us a few weeks ago. It's fascinating to learn the geological history of this region.
The new highway was built in 2017, and in several spots, you can still see the rugged old road beside it—clearly a route that once required four-wheel drive.
The views along this stretch are stunning. The Gulf of California stretched out beside us, glittering in the sun. Comet enjoyed it.
The winds are frequently strong in this area that the sand is pushed up on the sides of the mountains.
San Felipe was alive with activity. We managed to find a parking spot just at the edge of town and returned to the same restaurant we visited last year. This time, it was bustling. The food was every bit as good as we remembered. The waitress had trouble understanding Kasey's Spanish accent, so she fetched a waiter to help out. My chile relleno was the best I've ever had.
Carnaval rides were already set up, and people were pulling wagons loaded with beach chairs and umbrellas toward the shoreline. A festive weekend was clearly in store.
The ride north had more interesting geology and phenomenon including mirages created by the hot sun.
Kasey was hoping to cross the border today, so after a quick stop at Walmart—where we picked up some Baja Brewing beer for the next Umpqua Valley Brewers Guild meeting (assuming it survives the trip to Roseburg!)—we headed north. There seemed to be quite a few parked truck cargo containers. I don't know if that is usual or if transport of goods has slowed due to new polices.
I'll admit, I was nervous about the border crossing. It can be an unpleasant process. I turned off my phone and braced myself.
Northbound traffic was light, though southbound was busy.
Well, sailing would’ve been more accurate if the wind had been at our backs. Instead, we battled headwinds and crosswinds. Dust blew across the road, obscuring visibility and making the drive nerve-wracking. Kasey kept a firm grip on the wheel through the white-knuckle stretch.
Eventually, we pulled into Flowstone Climbing in Redlands, a Harvest Host site. The wind had died down by then, and even at 8 p.m., young climbers were still scaling the walls inside. We parked next to the building and could see them practicing through the windows.
Funny coincidence—when I was working and taking GIS classes, many of the exercises used data from Redlands, California, often centered on where ESRI (Environmental Systems Research Institute) is headquartered. Tonight, we’re camped right next to their office. I always imagined it as a bigger, flashier building, but it’s pretty unassuming. Anyone familiar with GIS knows ESRI—it’s a quiet giant in the mapping world.
I sent a few texts to friends in Roseburg to let them know where we were and gave Mike a call before it got too late. After a simple dinner and feeding the pets, we turned in for the night. We’re planning an early start tomorrow. We’re eager to get home and brace for the challenges ahead—especially the increasing dismantling of environmental protections. There’s work to be done.
Welcome home. DP
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