Baja California: Odyssey of Adventure

I’m traveling across Baja on a three-week odyssey of adventure and discovery with my friend Mary. I’ve done this trip a dozen times, but each time in a rush—trying to get to Cabo for a job, or home to a more pressing life.

Not this time. This time it’s all about taking the slow road, the wandering paths, and accepting the diversions as they come. We’re here to shoot a photo book, one I’m calling Baja Bound. An artistic take on the classic road trip through Baja, and a homage to the explorers who wandered these roads in VW busses, decades before there was pavement.

Unfortunately, this section of Baja is a 4-hour drive filled with monotony, farmland, and towns where the biggest industry seems to be stop sign manufacturing. It was our “first day” on the road, and we were trying to get far enough away from Cabo to disconnect from its comforts.

Once you’ve passed through the farmland and a few short windy canyons, Baja proper begins again. Views appear of orange desert rock burnt by the sun meeting the turquoise waters of the Sea of Cortez. We wanted to make sure that we didn't go so far that we ended up in Loreto—another den of comfort on the Baja journey—so we pulled off at the first empty beach we saw to stretch our legs and wet our souls in the ocean. About a mile offshore, a white guano-covered Island with a few lone cactus sat in what looked like deeper water.

It was our first chance to use the Kayak we’d brought along, a two-person origami kayak that, until now, had remained folded up in the trunk of my limping Baja ride. We were pretty far from cell service, so I had to forgo the instructional video. In about 10 minutes, though, the boat was ready to go. Before setting off for the island, Mary and I threw in a gallon of water in the back, our freediving gear, and of course my camera.

Even against the wind, we made good time, our path marked by sea turtles and frigate birds circling above. Once there, the island didn’t quite match what we had imagined of it. Summed up by a harsh rocky shore with nowhere to relax, and noisy sea birds asking us to leave.

Still, we pulled the boat ashore, donned our freediving gear, and set off to circumnavigate the island. The water was warm, shallow, and a bit on the murky side, but after so many hours in a car, it felt good to have an adventure again. Just as we reached what I thought would be halfway around the island, the sea floor gave way and we passed over a shelf into deeper water. In an instant, the sea life erupted around us with Cownose Rays, schools of thousands of Jack and Mackerel, and a deep cave filled to the brim with small fish and giant Grouper. Alone, we had passed beyond a threshold into what seemed like a whole new world—not even sure where we were, out of touch and out of reach.

Just as I thought we were about to round the corner and find our boat waiting on the shore, I realized that this island was not the small, round feature we’d assumed it was. Instead, it was long and thin, guiding us out into deeper and deeper waters. My first instinct was that this was beyond what we’d planned for, but the slow, experiential nature of Baja came back to me. We could be out here all night if we needed to be. There was no rush to get to the next adventure, we were already on one.

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