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Passing through vast rugged desert yesterday, it seemed to dry to support industrial agriculture. So I was surprised to suddenly find endless acres of peppers which gave way to strawberries and then high tunnels of tomatoes. We’ve heard that this is the tomato production capital of the world. And then its back to broad, brown stretches of desert again, as far as the eye can see.
We slept sporadically last night, hunkered down in a barren clay lot behind a roadside motel. It wasn’t what we planned. But the sun was going down and we had limped into a hardware store in search of gas a few kilometers back. We were fortunate to find that a couple gallons (in Kirkland gallon water jugs) for bush prices – about $7 each north of Guerrero Norte. Parked for the net, we pulled down our window shades and made dinner: burritos with cheesy eggs, salad mix and potatoes. Not my best, but it filled the hole. In fact, we were thinking that Guerrero Negro was the “hole.” We look around at the bleak feeling that supports its reputation for narco traffic and a large military presence.
An unusually large quantity of late night dog caroling and several streetlights beaming in kept us punching our pillows. When that diminished by dawn, we were awakened by rounds of bugle practice from the military base. Still, we’re in good spirits today. It was hard to hold a grudge against the dogs. Their fearless leader, a small fuzzy white mutt wooed us with big brown eyes this morning. And we replied with a quantity of crackers, which earned the cutie a new name. Jake wishes we could take him home.
The best thing about camper travel is the constancy of knowing you have a cozy place to relax and lay your head when needed. Camper travel takes a lot of the stress out of sleeping at night, for example. I always sleeper lighter in a strange bed.
Back on the open road, we are surprised that Reserva de la Biosfera el Vizcaino is the most barren stretch we’ve yet driven. Flat, sandy, marked by only by a few machete-weilding road workers. Now that we’ve passed through the cute mountain town of San Ignacio, the landscape brightens with green and large cardon cacti. The road, freshly paved, swirls around small hills between larger azure mountains.
We slept sporadically last night, hunkered down in a barren clay lot behind a roadside motel. It wasn’t what we planned. But the sun was going down and we had limped into a hardware store in search of gas a few kilometers back. We were fortunate to find that a couple gallons (in Kirkland gallon water jugs) for bush prices – about $7 each north of Guerrero Norte. Parked for the net, we pulled down our window shades and made dinner: burritos with cheesy eggs, salad mix and potatoes. Not my best, but it filled the hole. In fact, we were thinking that Guerrero Negro was the “hole.” We look around at the bleak feeling that supports its reputation for narco traffic and a large military presence.
An unusually large quantity of late night dog caroling and several streetlights beaming in kept us punching our pillows. When that diminished by dawn, we were awakened by rounds of bugle practice from the military base. Still, we’re in good spirits today. It was hard to hold a grudge against the dogs. Their fearless leader, a small fuzzy white mutt wooed us with big brown eyes this morning. And we replied with a quantity of crackers, which earned the cutie a new name. Jake wishes we could take him home.
The best thing about camper travel is the constancy of knowing you have a cozy place to relax and lay your head when needed. Camper travel takes a lot of the stress out of sleeping at night, for example. I always sleeper lighter in a strange bed.
Back on the open road, we are surprised that Reserva de la Biosfera el Vizcaino is the most barren stretch we’ve yet driven. Flat, sandy, marked by only by a few machete-weilding road workers. Now that we’ve passed through the cute mountain town of San Ignacio, the landscape brightens with green and large cardon cacti. The road, freshly paved, swirls around small hills between larger azure mountains.
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