Rustic family and group recreation facilities for ... camping (16USC460bbb-3)

After seeing the camping set-up in La Fonda for our initial coastal road trip during Semana Santa in April, I wasn't exactly hankering to pitch a tent in Mexico. But when a long weekend came up recently, I was willing to give it a shot on a non-Mexican holiday, especially since TJ spoke so well of a campground in the Kumeyaay Indian community of San Antonio Necua, where he and a friend stayed in June. 

Unlike the gravel pits along the Pacific cliffs, this spot resembled an American-style campground, with flush toilets, showers, and designated sites complete with grills, picnic tables, electrical outlets, and lighting (although ours didn't work). There was even a little store next to an extensive playground, which included a basketball court, soccer pitch, and volleyball net. In fact, about the only difference from some countryside campgrounds I've been to was the wildlife. A fence kept the wandering dog pack at bay at night, but it didn't keep out the sounds of roosters, cattle (below left), horses, and turkeys (below right) grazing nearby.

The campground was about 45 minutes away from Ensenada, so on our full day, we set out early for La Bufadora, a blowhole just south of the port city that shoots water up to 80 feet in the air when the tides are right (below top). I'm not sure the spectacle was worth it, especially after walking the gauntlet of hawkers urging me to sample a piña colada or pose for a photo with a lion cub. But the views during the drive down Punta Banda peninsula certainly were spectacular (below bottom).

But the main draw of the campground was that it is in the middle of the Ruta del Vino in the Valle de Guadalupe, near the L.A. Cetto winery. We got settled into camp just before sunset, so we sought out the nearby La Casa de Doña Lupe, which sells organic olive oils, cheese, and pizza along with its wine. After "economically" sampling four reds among our group, we decided to share a bottle of spicy Tempranillo with two excellent thin-crust pizzas, one of which was topped with homemade chorizo, in an al fresco dining area amid the winery's vines.

On the way back from the blowhole, we swung by Bibayoff, a winery operated by (and named after) one of the remaining Molokans in the area. David Bibayoff is a descendant of Turkish members from the outcast Russian Orthodox sect that drinks milk during fasts. At first, the Molokans grew grapes, but they soon discovered that wine was more profitable and helped their community remain viable, especially after many residents were ousted from the valley during land-rights disputes in the 1950s. Now, Bibayoff and his Mexican wife maintain vines and orange groves (below left) that are crawling with sweet mutts (below right). TJ and I brought home an unlabeled bottle of Cheninyoff, their alcoholic and liquified version of Chenin Blanc grapes.

Bibayoff was a bit of a small operation -- the wine is only sold at the winery and in one Ensenada hotel -- so we thought we should try something more big-time. At Barón Balché, we paid more to sample fewer types of wine, but at least there was some ambiance in its underground tasting room (below right). And the winery's veranda provided a nice vista of the entire valley (below left), which apparently has made its name not with a single varietal, but with blends. We were won over by the Mezcla de Tintos, a combination of Cabernet Franc, Carignan, Grenache, and Malbec.

Not only was I happy with the sights and sips, but I was impressed that TJ was able to discover the campground in the first place and then guide us back to it again. But I guess when you find a spot in the middle of nowhere that suits you so perfectly -- with multiple rocky rings to relax on, next to your tent (below left) and a winery (below right) -- you create a natural keystone that binds you to your destination.