I invite you to come along for a particular 24-hour time period in Mark and my life, last week, in an area south of Todos Santos, on Baja’s west coast.
Mark, Maya, and I are driving north along the southwest coast of Baja California in Mexico. We’ve picked a free camping spot for the night at Jimi Beach, which we read about in iOverlander. Tomorrow morning, we will try to access a different place by a waterfall, which promises to be peaceful yet adventurous to reach. That’s why we opt for an early start and not push our luck today.
“I’m not sure camping at Playa Jimi is such a good idea,” I mention as our truck camper T&T (Temp & Thirsty) bridges the gap to our destination’s turnoff on the GPS.
“Why is that?” Mark asks.
“Well, you also read that people were robbed at gunpoint just south of there, two weeks ago. We want to be able to sleep at night and not worry about intruders.”
So far, we have never felt unsafe on the Baja peninsula, but it appears that the southern tip is more crowded, touristy, and potentially dangerous.
“I guess we can go to the waterfall spot instead. Better safe than sorry. It is getting late, though,” Mark says, as he focuses on the road ahead.
We usually aim to be settled by 5pm. It is 4pm and we have no idea what to expect. We change the waypoint on the GPS to the turnoff for this new location. Mark had scrutinized that area on satellite images ahead of time.
“I read the turnoff is very tricky, so look for it carefully. It is situated just past the second bridge,” he says. These “bridges” span arroyos (washes or dry river beds), which are often used as roads.
We slow down and pull over, off the main road. The turnoff is behind us, an extremely sharp bend that double-backs parallel to the highway. The only way to get there is by making a U-turn over four lanes. Luckily, this section of the pavement does not have a divider.
The access road to the fence and arroyo runs parallel to the highway and requires an approach from the north.
We wait until no cars are seen and make a quick loop on the asphalt to reach the dirt road, which leads to a barbed wire fence. I drag it open and close it again after Mark passes. That would keep the riffraff out, we both think.
The highway, seen from the dirt road after the turn-off
“Well, that was the worst part,” Mark sighs.
We follow the dirt track and turn left. Based on Google Earth, this is a short and easy stretch to join the wide arroyo Mark had spotted. Except, now, years later, pointy bushes and plants with needles have grown and the access route is very narrow.
Google Earth image of the area
Not again, I think, remembering our hours of cutting and sawing trees and brush to reach a lovely pebble beach last month. All in an attempt to prevent scratching up our truck camper.
Mark grabs our handsaw, which now lives in the cab of the truck, and jumps out. “You drive, while I cut branches,” he instructs.
For the next forty minutes, he labors and sweats, while I inch our camper forward, trying to avoid the remainder of overhanging branches. There is no room to turn around and we have no idea how much further it is to a less narrow part of “road.”
Mark saws branches while I slowly inch the truck forward
The sun is setting fast. Eventually, we reach a wider stretch – we have arrived in the arroyo, where soft gravel and sand await us. Mark takes over the wheel and stops again after a few yards (meters).
“I’m going to take air out of the tires,” he says. When driving in soft sand, this approach is recommended. We don’t want to get stuck, especially in a remote area.
He takes a narrow-tip pen and tire gauge to deflate each tire to a certain pressure. We continue our route to the waterfall, trying to stay in the tracks of previous visitors. These tracks are all over the place and often squirrely. We sink in and slip a bit as Mark tries to keep a consistent, fast enough speed to not get stuck. We both hold our breath for twenty minutes, until we reach the end of the now shady wash. We spot three sows with their offspring of piglets. Nineteen of them. Nobody else is here.
The so-called waterfall is but a sprinkle running down a rock face; the air is cool since the sun has disappeared behind the walls of the canyon. It’s six ‘o clock already, so we make dinner, watch a show offline on Mark’s tablet, and listen to the water running down the rocks from our comfy bed.
***
It’s Sunday. We expect a local family might show up on a little outing to the falls. So far, it has been peaceful and quiet. After letting Maya out and spotting burros (donkeys), Mark prepares a breakfast of banana pancakes. This morning, we will attempt to find the source of the waterfall, above the cliffs.
We are all alone in the arroyo
“Do you think the three of us can climb up there?” my husband asks.
“I think you and I can, but it might be a struggle for Maya. Maybe there’s a trail to cross over the hill?” I reply.
When doing the dishes, I hear cow bells in the valley. A herd of cattle is crossing the wash, led by two farmers. Not much later, the sound comes from above us. There must be a path to get above the waterfall.
Ready to climb the waterfall
Dishes done and sunscreen applied, I pack a bag with water, Maya’s bowl, a snack, and biodegradable soap (we hope to find a bigger or stronger water supply to take a shower) and we set out to explore. Mark manages to climb the rock face. I carefully send our dog up, stretch by stretch. We attach her leash to make sure she doesn’t tumble down. All of us reach the top successfully.
An oasis opens up: a tiny stream that disappears and reappears from the sand, palm trees, more greenery. Mark spots a trail as well. We will try to return that way.
We follow the narrow valley and reach another small waterfall. This one has shower potential! The three of us manage to climb that one too, before reaching yet another level. At the end of this stretch, we find a third waterfall, surrounded on three sides by rocks and set in the shade.
This is as far as we can walk – there is no way to scale the vertical cliffs and find out what’s above. All we can see is dense lushness from a vantage point on a rock. We return to the middle falls, take in the beautiful surroundings, strip off our clothes, and shower underneath the tumbling water. Very refreshing! The warm sun dries our naked bodies. We are all alone in this little piece of paradise.
We retrace our steps downriver, take in a last glimpse of the tranquil scene, and follow a cow track over and down the hill. All we have to do is follow the piles of dung, and prevent Maya from eating any. The trail passes through a small slot canyon and brings us back to our home on wheels in the main arroyo.
I grab our chairs and we relax in the shade next to T&T. It’s almost lunch time. Cell service here is hit or miss. I take a few photos of our peaceful setting, but posting the gallery on Facebook doesn’t work. I type a text message to our friends Duwan and Greg, with whom we are loosely traveling. They are checking out a ranch to camp. We plan on staying next to the waterfall for one more night and maybe join them tomorrow.
Our peaceful setting next to the waterfall
Just before pressing “send,” Mark and I hear a car laboriously plowing through the soft sand of the arroyo. The engine is working hard. A small, white pick-up truck loaded with Mexican men approaches. At some point, I only hear their rumbling engine, as they disappear behind our camper and park close by.
Poooof.
“Was that one of their tires popping?” I ask Mark, who gets up and peeks his head around our camper on the sunny side. I hear him talk to the driver: “No bueno!”
That doesn’t sound good, so I rush out of my chair and observe the scene as well. Smoke is coming out of the truck’s engine compartment.
A slightly smoking engine department (no photos as we were busy with our escape) turned into a more vigorous smoke plume once we moved forward to safety.
The four guys who were riding in the bed of the truck and one cab passenger jump out and run towards the bushes on the opposite side of the arroyo. Only the driver is still around. He stares at his vehicle and backs away. A small fire starts underneath the car.
Now what? – photo by Mark Kilty
“I’m moving the camper,” Mark states.
“Good idea!”
Mark gets in Thirsty and drives forward, on our own tracks, until he reaches a safe distance. Luckily, we are faced in the right direction. My tablet and Mark’s phone are left in our chairs, so I rapidly drag them away from the scene, until I reach our home. I urge Maya to join me. Her water bowl and our flip flops remain near the burning object. We’ll pick them up later.
We watched the spectacle from a safe distance.
I finally send that text to our friends with an extra note saying “And then this happened.” A photo of the Mad Max scene accompanies the message. I’ll have to add a couple more photos to that planned Facebook post later as well. Talk about a change of events and surroundings!
“I can’t believe they parked so close to us,” Mark states.
“This thing is going to explode!” I counter.
“The truck shouldn’t explode,’ Mark assures me. “Vehicles are made not to do that. Except in movies.”
I guess I should never believe what happens in movies.
From this distance, we stare in awe as the car goes up in flames. First, the white smoke turns grey and black. Then, it bellows up, obscuring the sky. Warning alarms go off. The fire spreads and grows. The tires pop one by one. Everything that isn’t metal melts or disintegrates. We take photos and movies, while the group of locals laughs and hollers from afar, phones at the ready.
“I’m moving the car further away,” Mark says, before the fire consumes the Mexican vehicle and reaches its gas tank.
I drag the chairs some more.
Then, I start making lunch inside. It’s difficult to concentrate with a spectacle like this just out the door. A louder bang follows. That must have been the gas tank.
“That scared Maya,” Mark says. “She’s hiding in the car now, on her bed. I opened the doors.”
Great! Maya doesn’t like fireworks, gun shots, or firecrackers. Or exploding cars, apparently.
It was hard to concentrate on making lunch – photo taken from our kitchen area
I step outside to take another photo. That’s when the driver of the once functional car approaches me. He speaks one word in English: “Maybe…” The rest follows in Spanish. He wants us to drive the group of six to the nearest town, El Pescadero, which is at least ten miles north of our current location; two down the soft arroyo, the rest on the highway.
This is impossible. I try to explain in poor Spanish.
“The camper and truck are heavy already. We had to let air out of the tires. It’s hard enough for us to get here and leave. We don’t even know if we can make it back. And we don’t have room.”
He is persistent and it is obvious they don’t want to walk.
“Why don’t you call someone?” I inquire.
“Our phones were left in the car. Everything is gone, burned.”
I don’t believe him. The guys in the back would have had their phones on them – and we noticed some take photos. Mark even saw a man (try to) make a phone call. This conversation makes me uneasy.
“We don’t have a good cell connection and we are not able to make phone calls within Mexico,” I add, none of it a lie.
He insists: “You could drive us to town.”
“The only thing we can do is take one of you to the main road, in about an hour. We will eat lunch first,” I say – or try to say. Then, I leave him. I’m not sure what else to do.
Mark grabs the rest of our belongings and I finish cutting vegetables and warming up corn tortillas, my mind disturbed. We eat our meal outside.
Mark retrieves our flip flops and Maya’s water bowl.
“All we can do, really, is take one of them to the main road,” I repeat.
“It’s only two miles,” Mark says. “Why don’t they just walk? They can call a friend from the moment the phone service works better or hitch a ride from the moment they get to the highway.”
The six Mexicans inspect and photograph the remnants of their transportation device. – Photo by Mark Kilty
In rows of two, the six walk towards us, following the car tracks. Some of them carry sticks. As they get closer, I coax Maya out of the truck and make her sit between us, showing her off. Her presence might deter anyone from trying something unpleasant. I feel intimidated.
“Buenas tardes,” I chirp. Nobody returns my greeting. I hear someone huff and mumble “Too heavy.” The group passes the camper. Twelve feet shuffle through the wash. We watch until they turn a corner.
“Are they gone?” I ask. “All of them?”
“Yes,” confirms Mark. Our uneasiness settles down. We decide to not spend another night at this location. We feel vulnerable. The driver knows who we are, what we own, where we are parked, and that our phone doesn’t work.
“We can’t leave yet,” I say. “We need to make sure they have reached the road, before we drive out. I don’t want to pass them in the arroyo or the narrow stretch of bushes.”
“Let’s go in 45 minutes,” Mark suggests. “By then, the route should be clear. And, we have to put air in the tires as well, before we can drive on the highway.” It will take time to get out of here.
A new relic is added to this arroyo.
We clean up and walk to the skeleton of the white pick-up truck. It took exactly one hour for the vehicle to completely burn out. The windshield melted and everything made from plastic and cloth is gone: cushions, seat belts, steering wheel, floor mats. It’s fascinating! We also observe that there is no license plate.
The smell is appalling and the pretty, peaceful scene is (forever) littered. A small fire remains underneath. We observe the wreckage, before turning our backs towards the scene.
Wreck with a view
“I’m grabbing that plastic bottle near the falls,” I tell Mark in an attempt to leave the place cleaner than we found it. We often remove litter from free camping spots.
“Too bad we can’t remove that truck as well,” he says. “It might be here forever.”
A desolate scene! This wreck will likely litter this pretty, peaceful area forever.
Around 2:30pm, we pack up and leave the once pristine canyon. Mark does a fabulous job not getting stuck on the ride out, even when he stops the moment we see another pick-up truck approach. If there is one thing you need to do when driving in soft sand or gravel is keep moving!
Driving back through the arroyo with deflated tires
He waves the other car over to let it pass. Nope. It stops. Two men jump out – one on each side. Huh? Did the other guys send their friends to rob us? Steal our camper?
My mind goes crazy.
An approaching pick-up truck!
“Well, we better keep driving,” I encourage Mark. There’s nothing else we can do. “Get ready to accelerate once we get closer!”
As we pass the truck, one guy takes its driver’s seat and the other jumps in the bed of the pick-up to add weight. Later, Mark sees him push the vehicle. Another 2WD car that has no business being here. I wonder if they are stuck…
We continue our “escape” through the wide part of the arroyo and the narrow alley surrounded by thorny bushes.
Driving back through the slightly widened alley
“Imagine that white truck stalling and burning out right here,” Mark says.
“That would have been disastrous,” I realize. Nobody would have been able to come or go…
Once closer to the paved road and gate, Mark gets off the track and starts our air compressor to fill the tires to their required pressure. Another fuse blows, just like the last time we did this. The small machine is getting too hot. We’ll finish the job at our next campsite, tomorrow morning.
I open and close the gate once more and soon we find ourselves on pavement. Big. Sigh. Of. Relief.
We drive to the rancho our friends found and stopped at. To our surprise, we see two sets of three men walking along the highway.
“Are these our guys?” I ask, stupidly. Of course, they are. Why didn’t they hitch a ride? Why did they not call for help? Why are they walking all the way to El Pescadero, many miles past our new destination? Seeing them, still walking, boggles our minds.
Mark, Maya, and I meet up with our friends Duwan and Greg (Make Like An Apeman) at a small farm with a cute rotan bathroom structure and attractive pool. Here, we can spend the night for 100 pesos ($5) per couple. For another 100 pesos, we can finally dump our sewage – a bargain in this part of the peninsula. Plus, this chore is becoming imperative after more than two weeks.
By the pool, drink in hand, we relay our exciting, quite unbelievable, and extremely random experience to our friends, supported by photos and video.
“Maybe that car was stolen. Or the group went for a joy ride,” Duwan suggests.
I guess we will never know. And maybe that’s for the best.
A fire-orange sunset over the Pacific Ocean concludes this eventful day
To read fascinating stories and anecdotes about a decade of our nomadic life, mostly aboard a 35ft sailboat in the tropics, check out my travel memoir Plunge – One Woman’s Pursuit of a Life Less Ordinary.
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March 13, 2022 at 19:22
OMG! This is such an incredible and extremely frightening experience. I’m so glad that the three of you are okay. I just gave a copy of this post to Richard to read. He is now deeply engrossed in it.
March 14, 2022 at 12:28
Hi Donna! This was quite an experience. We went from being in awe about the events, to being enthralled, to not feeling comfortable anymore. We are so glad we checked out the waterfalls before all this happened. Mark and I could only imagine what we would have felt or done if we saw that smoke plume from above, thinking it was our camper on fire…
March 13, 2022 at 19:41
Holy crap! I would’ve gotten my wife in the vehicle and headed out right after the truck caught on fire. You two were very lucky they didn’t forcibly take your vehicle.
March 14, 2022 at 12:31
Hi Alex! We didn’t really think about leaving until we felt vulnerable after our personal encounter with the driver. I’m sure they had no intention to take our vehicle when they arrived. Our worry arose after the driver lied to us and indicated he didn’t want to walk all the way back. We really do not understand why they didn’t call anyone or hitch a ride once they arrived at the paved road…
March 13, 2022 at 20:07
Wow, that’s a day to remember!
March 14, 2022 at 12:31
I’d say so. 🙂
March 13, 2022 at 21:10
Well that was frightening! To be honest, if I had to machete my way through underbrush and let the air out of my tires to proceed, I probably would have turned back!
March 14, 2022 at 12:34
These situations are hard to gauge and grasp, Jacqui. Once we started clearing bushes, we were determined to make it work. As it gets later, you need to make a decision about where you camp. Driving at night in Mexico – and many other countries – is a terrible idea, because of all the unlit obstacles, speed bumps, and potholes. If we knew ahead of time we’d have to clear that much brush and let air out of the tires, we probably would not have come here. We actually have turned back multiple times upon seeing narrow access roads, especially when it was still early in the day and we knew there were alternatives to camp.
March 13, 2022 at 22:01
I’m glad you three are OK. I wouldn’t go on a one-way road to an isolated place in a foreign country and where cell reception is spotty. Stay safe and well.
March 14, 2022 at 12:36
Point taken, Natalie. 🙂 Many amazing beaches in Baja California fit your description and we have had an incredible time at all of them – except this arroyo. But only because of the random event that a car caught on fire. What’s the chance of that?
March 13, 2022 at 22:17
Oh, man! I was riveted the whole time. If you’re writing another book, this has to be one of the chapters. I hadn’t considered the thought of their truck breaking down in the middle of the road blocking you until you mentioned it.
March 14, 2022 at 12:39
We still can’t believe that this truck actually parked right next to us and went up in flames… There was probably one car that this happened to in a 500-mile (or more) radius on Baja that day and it happened to be right there!
Based on some of the comments I have gotten on Facebook groups regarding this event, I’m not sure I will ever mention it again – or write another book. While I like to share our experiences, the good and the bad, it might be time for me to not put myself (and my opinions and thoughts) out there so much anymore, because those reactions, assumptions, and criticisms ruin my mood.
March 13, 2022 at 22:28
Wow! This is one post that I will not let Tony read since he is already refusing to go to Mexico. Glad that you are okay!
March 14, 2022 at 12:42
We surely are okay. Thank you, Margie. You know, this is such a random event. I would almost say that it can happen anywhere, but then again, in Mexico the cars take a lot of abuse and some look like they’re on their last legs. In any case, coincidences and situations that turn awry can happen anywhere. I’ll soon post some amazing experiences we have had in Mexico… 🙂
March 13, 2022 at 23:54
I was planning to just read a few lines until I had more time to read it all. However, that went out the window as soon as I began reading your tale as I couldn’t stop. Thank God the three of you are doing OK after that experience that could have been the stiff of horror films.
Perhaps next time you and Mark are inclined to go down such a road for the sake of a free campsite or pretty waterfalls, you’ll look back on this and say, No Thanks!
March 14, 2022 at 12:48
Hi Annie!
Once in a while, I like to draw the reader into my stories and experiences by writing them in the present tense (like in my book). I hope I didn’t keep you from anything important. 🙂
Yes, this story could have had a different ending, even though the people from the car did not have malicious intentions when they arrived. If anything, our minds got a bit obscured because the driver was insistent and lied about the phone situation. I think they were grasping at straws, because they didn’t want to walk the ten miles to this town. Yet, in our opinion, they didn’t have to. We still don’t understand why they didn’t call for help (there was cell service 1/4 mile down the arroyo) or hitch a ride back… Weird.
March 14, 2022 at 02:17
This was quite an adventure and the post let us feel the way the truck was consumed. I bet they were joy riding in a stolen car?
– by the time you showed us the decompressing at the pool, I was sighing with ya.
🙂
March 14, 2022 at 12:50
Hi Yvette,
We do expect something fishy was going on. Not so much when we were still in the arroyo, but when we saw them walk down the highway, more than an hour later. Why did they not call for or hitch a ride? Anyway, I just wanted to share this crazy story to give people an exciting read.
March 14, 2022 at 04:10
Gelukkig zijn jullie allemaal oké!
March 14, 2022 at 12:51
Zeker en vast! Is dit tante Leen?
March 14, 2022 at 05:26
That is quite a story, Liesbet! Having spent a lot of time in Baja, I can picture the entire episode and am glad it all turned out ok. That’s a beautiful desert sunset photo! Happy travels!
March 14, 2022 at 12:52
I really love that sunset photo. It was a very appropriate ending to that fire-orange day. 🙂 I’m glad you could picture this event, Andre. This is hard to do for people who haven’t been here, haven’t discovered the deserted beauty of Baja, or haven’t had a mind-trick frightening experience before.
March 14, 2022 at 10:34
I was on alert all the way through. After the machete and truck fire, I expected guns, a hold-up or worse. Each of you can say, “I married adventure!” WOW!
March 14, 2022 at 12:55
When I eventually posted a couple of photos on Facebook, the day it happened, a couple of people referred to the event as a scene from a Mad Max (or Breaking Bad) movie. It sure felt that way. The guys in the car had no idea this would happen, of course, and there was no indication they meant harm. But, we did feel uneasy at some point and that’s when it was time for this particular adventure to end. 🙂
March 14, 2022 at 12:14
Wow – quite an intimidating couple of hours. Glad you’re OK!
March 14, 2022 at 12:57
Everything initially seemed like a crazy experience; an interesting turn of events that was exciting to watch, until the last half an hour, when our minds played tricks (probably) and we felt intimidated. It was all so random, though and none of it soiled our positive impressions of Baja and its people.
March 14, 2022 at 16:29
Yikes! That’s scary. I would have been worried, too. Whenever I read one of your accounts of the beautiful and solitary places you’ve found, I’ve thought, “Oh, that sounds wonderful.” But this experience shows the flip side of that. All in all, I think I prefer my boring non-adventurous life. 😉
March 15, 2022 at 12:18
Aha. There sure is something to be said about the familiar and the “boring.” 🙂 Adventure comes in many forms – beautifully and scary and many things in between.
March 14, 2022 at 17:37
Liesbet – what a story! I was on edge the whole time. Except I had to laugh at “it was hard to concentrate on making lunch”. Must be understatement of the year so far!
March 15, 2022 at 12:22
I remember being very distracted making lunch, which is why I mentioned it. 🙂 Once in a while, I like to write a story on my blog the way I wrote my book: in the present tense and – hopefully – in an engaging way.
March 14, 2022 at 17:41
How sad that the serenity of that beautiful place was destroyed in just a few moments… and, of course, the truck will be there forever most likely. I can understand why you may have felt a bit intimidated for a moment but I’m glad that it worked out ok. I feel sorry for those guys but jeeeeez…
March 15, 2022 at 12:25
Right! It was all pretty bizarre and surreal. Almost like watching a movie in real time. Something was definitely fishy. We did want to help, but it’s not that we were there in a normal car or just the pick-up… There are a lot of layers involved with our lifestyle and how we sometimes get to places. Carrying six more adults out of this spot was not an option. People on Facebook called me a racist for that…
March 14, 2022 at 18:50
Oh my, I remember someone telling me Baja was the “wild west” and this confirms it, Liesbet. I’m glad you ended up staying safe…your collective common sense and brains kept you from engaging in a negative way and it was also smart to show Maya a little. Perhaps they were up to no harm but that looked like a desperate situation that could have unraveled terribly. A riveting story indeed. This is one of the reasons I dislike much of Mexico, sorry to say. Hans speaks fluent Spanish and literally has talked himself out of weird and potentially dangerous situations back in the day when he drive to La Ventana on several occasions. We still live in desperate times. Take good care of yourselves!
March 15, 2022 at 12:30
Speaking the language surely helps, Terri. I’m usually okay understanding situations and getting my point across in Spanish. Although, I have to admit that playing ignorant or pretending you don’t speak the language has gotten me out of “bad” situations, like cops requesting a bribe, as well. Traveling is an adventure, especially abroad. As you know, Baja has a desolate beauty to it, which we love. This experience hasn’t change anything for us. 🙂
March 14, 2022 at 22:35
Holy crap! You can’t make this shit up! It was like reading a gripping thriller. Thank goodness you weren’t robbed – or worse! Perhaps you guys need to be packing a gun for these types of incidences???? <3
March 15, 2022 at 12:34
A gun? That comment comes as a surprise to me, Debby, especially from you. But, I understand what you mean. Thing is: we are not fans of guns, don’t know how to use them, when you have them they can be used against you, and – most importantly – in many countries (Mexico included), you are not allowed to bring guns in. It is as much frowned upon as drugs.
We also know this from our boating years. Often, people who carry guns with them have to leave them at the border (which means returning the same way you came to pick them up, not convenient in spread-out island chains) or import them illegally.
I think Maya did the trick here. She barks on command as well. 🙂
March 15, 2022 at 20:01
Believe me, I am NO advocate for guns. But I do know how Mexico can be very scary in certain parts. You guys can be quite vulnerable in some places you travel. I surely hope Maya is effective when needed. You were lucky the way things played out. May the force be with you. 🙂 <3
March 18, 2022 at 18:28
True that, Debby. And, I thought so about the guns. We are often quite vulnerable, especially when there is no cell service. We have to trust our guts and perform the “better safe than sorry” approach. In general, people in Mexico are scared of dogs – this can be a good thing or a sad thing… 🙂
March 14, 2022 at 23:46
Wow! I’m glad you survived that adventure unscathed. It could have gone wrong in so many different ways, but you’ve gathered another great story to tell.
March 15, 2022 at 12:37
Hi Deb!
On hindsight, it feels like a lot happened in our head – mind tricks. But, yes, if those guys really wanted to take our camper to drive home, they probably could have. It would have turned nasty. Although, they probably would have gotten stuck in the soft sand, being that much heavier. Better not to think about what could have happened. 🙂 Everything was actually totally fine until the unpleasant conversation I had with the driver.
March 15, 2022 at 08:55
Wowwww . . . what an adventure! That could have gone sideways in any number of ways. Glad you two got out OK!
March 15, 2022 at 12:38
Thanks, guys. Just a random experience, but an exciting one. And, a tad scary at times. We’re glad things worked out the way they did, though.
March 15, 2022 at 15:54
It looked like a lovely spot and a great hike up the waterfall!
I feel like this sort of thing could have happened anywhere. I have sometimes been spooked with much less drama. But what is adventure without a little (or sometimes a lot) of drama.
I doubt those guys came there to hurt anyone but their behavior sure sounded suspect. The fact that didn’t have anyone to call for help makes me think they weren’t supposed to have the truck – whether borrowed or stolen. Someone’s Tio may have woke up the next day wondering what happen to his truck.
Always trust your gut!
March 18, 2022 at 18:27
I agree with you that this kind of thing could have happened anywhere, Duwan. Then again, cars are not so well maintained in Mexico… 🙂 I think most of my/our fear comes from thinking too much or worrying about what might happen. I can usually keep that under control, except in this situation, apparently. Funny about the tio. I guess we will never know!
March 16, 2022 at 10:46
OMG what an experience. I’d have been terrified. I was thinking you guys are more adventurous than we’d ever be just going to that isolated place. And then 6 guys show up and their pickup goes up in flames! Just wow! Glad you got out of there safely.
Happy travels. Stay safe!
Alison
March 18, 2022 at 18:30
What’s the chance of that, right? Six guys showing up with a truck that burns out. Haha. I think this should only happen to us once in this lifetime. 🙂 Luckily, ever other time we followed a remote arroyo, we ended up at a gorgeous beach with lovely views, peace, and the sound of waves…
March 16, 2022 at 10:50
Liesbet, you had me enthralled through out this whole post. Quite a few tense moments, but I relaxed knowing you survived to tell the tale. Such a shame we will never know what they were up to…probably something very dodgy.
Never a dull moment on camp T&T 🙂
March 18, 2022 at 18:31
Hi Gilda! You are so right! Never a dull moment in our lives. As you can so relate to – adventure calls! 🙂
March 16, 2022 at 13:25
OMG, you are cutting down bushes and letting air out of tires and I’m complaining that the waiter forgot my extra olives!! Just kidding, but mostly on point. Glad you got out of that without incident and glad you got that last text off to your friends. At least someone knew where to look for your bodies! Seriously, I know you guys are experts at this, but be careful out there.
March 18, 2022 at 18:33
Suzanne, I really enjoyed reading your comment. You had me smile all the way through. Refreshing words, after we have been called 1) racists, for not helping those poor guys out or 2) idiots, for driving to a remote spot to camp. Ha! Wait until I finally post some photos about other places we have found at the end of arroyos! Well, I did give everyone a sneak peek in my last expense report already. 🙂
March 18, 2022 at 18:44
Keep doing your thing gal. You are an inspiration!
March 18, 2022 at 18:47
Oow, thank you, Suzanne! The three of us are still having an amazing time in Baja – stay tuned! 🙂
March 18, 2022 at 18:48
Well, stay tuned whenever we are back online as we are leaving the internet world this afternoon for another week or so. Trying to catch up on things really quickly now. 🙂
March 18, 2022 at 18:30
Wow!!! Liesbet, I don’t even know what to say. Your story had me on the edge of my seat and I read it to my husband. I’m glad you, Mark and Maya made it out safely and met up with your friends. How scary. Just getting in to begin with was amazing to read for me. What an amazing story with photos to boot. Be safe.
March 18, 2022 at 18:46
Hi Lea! All I want to do is share some of our adventures in the hopes that they provide good reading material. I’m glad this one – which is not to be repeated! – fit the bill. 🙂 One day, it will make a compelling chapter in book 2, haha. Thank you to you and your husband for humoring us.
March 20, 2022 at 10:32
What a story, Liesbet. I know you lived it, but you told it so well. My heart was in my mouth. I’m so glad you guys came away safe. Honestly, it was like reading something from the movies.
Such a beautiful spot, and I’m glad you guys got to explore the waterfalls before the uninvited visitors turned up. I’d have been very scared being in your situation. Like anything else, travelling can be dangerous, but when you actually experience something like you did, I think it makes you think just how lucky we are to still be safe. If you write another memoir, this story has to be one of the chapters.
BTW – with what is going on in Ukraine, have you noticed fuel prices escalating in your part of the world? Or have stayed the same? Here in the UK, fuel prices are the highest they’ve ever been.
March 22, 2022 at 14:30
I wrote about this experience the way I wrote my first memoir, Hugh. Once in a while, I like to make the stories a bit more engaging and compelling with dialogue. Thank you for the compliment.
Interesting to note is that the fuel prices in Mexico are pretty much the same as last year. Have to keep this short. Internet runs out in one minute! 🙂