Sea of Cortez to Playa Tecolote, Baja California Sur //
Even with the deep roar of the ferry’s engines right outside our door, we’re able to sleep through the night. At 7 a.m., we’re still hours away from the port, but thanks to a large island off the coast, we can already see land. I try to distract myself with activities inside the camper, but mostly I watch out the window with giddy excitement. I don’t think I realized until now just how much I’ve been craving some familiarity and ease in our travels. And beyond that, there’s something in the air, something I can’t define or explain, that exists in Baja and doesn’t exist anywhere else. The closer we get, the more I can feel Baja’s good vibes.
It’s 11:15 a.m. when we dock at the port in Pichilingue. Because we were one of the first trucks to be loaded onto the ferry, over an hour passes before enough trucks have driven off to free us from the corner we are tucked into. At 12:30, 22 hours after boarding in Mazatlán, we are free at last. Well, not quite, but close. First, we have to pay the port tax of 230 pesos ($11.50), then 30 pesos ($1.50) for a perfunctory spray of some kind of repellent to the truck, then a military inspection before we can officially depart the port. When a military agent asks Mark where we’re headed, he replies with the nearest beach that comes to mind when really what we’re both thinking is fish tacos! La Paz! The beach! Baja! We haven’t decided where we’re headed yet, but we’re talking to a military agent, not a travel agent, and so we keep our excitement to ourselves.
Having eaten peanut butter and rice cakes for our last two meals, our first stop is at a bougie restaurant on the malecón in La Paz. Both of us can’t help but laugh at our fresh perspective of Baja California Sur’s capital city. It’s the biggest city that we frequent anywhere on the Baja peninsula and in the past has been a headache to navigate. But now, after driving around dozens upon dozens of cities in mainland Mexico that are as large or larger, getting around La Paz feels like a walk in the park.
After lunch and deliberating over our many options for where to call home for the night, we agree to head to the outskirts of Playa Tecolote, our nearest option. Thirty minutes later, we arrive at our desired spot and are delighted by the fact that our nearest neighbor is a few hundred yards away. The sand is white, the water is turquoise, and the cost is zero. When the sun sets and day turns to night, no security lights come on. Instead, all I see is a sky slowly filling up with stars overhead. The only noise is that of the gentle waves that break on the beach. And the smell… salt and sand mixed with the dry air of the desert. It’s all so unmistakably Baja.
I feel as at home here as I do in Colorado. And for that, it feels damn good to be back.
…
It was a delight to return to dry air and free campsites. 
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