|It was hart to leave this|
We packed up and headed back on the bumpy road back to Highway 1 and drove towards La Paz. We managed to get turned around and lost in La Paz but eventually found the road to Todos Santos. We picked up a hitchhiker, Ricardo, who was originally from Oaxaca but had come north for work. He said there was no work in Oaxaca. He helped his wife set up a restaurant in Ensanada while he headed south for farmwork, first to San Quintin and then to La Paz, working mainly with tomatoes and sometimes strawberries. His car was in the shop which was why he needed a ride to the farm he worked at, about thirty minutes towards Todos Santos.
|Brian driving in Todos Santos|
In Todos Santos we encountered our first scorching hot tropical type heat. Sweat poured from every pore on my body. We were determined to get internet to try and post an update on the blog so we ended up at Cafelix where lo and behold we sat down next to Morgan, a man who lives in Bend. While the internet was terrible, Morgan had some background in the area and gave us nuggets of useful information on where to stay for cheap and where to surf.
From downtown we went north to a free beach where we promptly met two more Oregonians! Angela and Michael are from Baker City most recently and Angela was part of OSU’s first graduating class of Environmental Science majors. She knew Pat Muir and we connected over our common colleagues and interests. Michael, the self described standoffish, quiet, and mysterious one, was actually hilarious and brought Josh’s back to Alaska. Michael reminded him of his boss up North and it turned out that Mike worked as a salmon buyer in Alaska every summer. Mike and Angela had been raging at the Todos Santos Music Festival for the previous few days and were in recovery mode at the beach.
|Mike and Angela!! Fellow Oregonians.|
Initially Josh and I were stoked to get out in the water continue learning how to surf but the waves broad, bulky beasts, crashing over big rocks into a nasty steep beach. An old timer walked up to us warning that someone had broken a femur the preceding day, that these waves were serious. Josh and I declined to head out realizing that we valued our lives while Brian and James took up the reins. Alas James came back from surfing puking up some serious sea water that he took on after enduring a pummeling.
The next morning we left to Playa de Las Palmas, a beach we heard had a large palm grove and had less people than the beach we were currently at. After flipping a few U-ies on the highway and driving past the entrance we finally made it to the road we were looking for. Unfortunately, the road had been changed since the books we had were written and the road ended a good distance before the actual beach. We looked for a road around and ended up driving up an enormous hill that overlooked the grove.
Ultimately we received a ridiculous view over the pacific; two volcanic headlands jutted into the crashing waves of the Pacific, basalt cliffs guarding a white sandy beach with a massive palm grove at the rear. The plants on the hill were doubly weird, fat elephant trees mixed with at least ten different species of cactus in a 15 square foot area. We had lunch before deciding to step back into Marshawn Beast and head further south towards Cabo Fraile.