A camping trip is always a good way to get some weight off my mind, but it also tends to take some weight off my hips, too. When you have to start a fire instead of opening the microwave to cook something, you tend to be more thoughtful about what you eat. It doesn't hurt that many foods durable enough for the outdoors -- nuts, apples, granola -- are relatively good for you, too.
I figured my three-day diet during our most recent trip, to Puerto Santo Tomas, could help me take off a couple of pounds. We had always intended to stop in Ensenada to fuel up on some last-minute supplies, like ice, but we also spontaneously swung by La Guerrerense (top). The street cart is named for its matriarch Sabina, who is from Guerrero and who was featured on an episode of No Reservations. We just wanted to sample some of her delicious tostadas, but we ended up getting four: mixed fish, octopus (bottom left), crab salad, and clam (bottom right). Even if they weren't as overflowing as the ones she made for Anthony Bourdain, they didn't bode well for my weekend weight-loss regimen.
Knowing that the road to our potential campsite would be long, we decided to drive down the old wine route of Baja California first. Most of the vineyards are open only by reservation, which we hadn't arranged, so we didn't actually get any samples. Instead, we wandered down to San Vicente to see what there was to see; after miles of winding roads, we turned around too early and missed the downtown entirely. Luckily, another mission of our trip was to visit some of the many missions in Baja, and our U-turn spot was the mission of Santo Vicente Ferrer, considered one of the most important Dominican missions in Mexico (left). Unfortunately, the gate to the foundations was locked, so we had to spy them through the fence (right). We also were blocked from visiting the mission of Santo Tomás de Aquino, which was also used as a fort by the Mexican military. Despite the hot weather, a river was high enough that we didn't think we should ford it just to see some crumbling adobe ruins.
Indeed, the 20-mile road to from the transpeninsular highway to the ocean was arduous. Its name -- Canyon Gravel Road, according to Google Maps -- was apt, and we had to go carefully and slowly. After we drove out of the roadside town, it was at least an hour before we saw any signs of life, which at first were just a few donkeys (top left). The valley was so empty that TJ went so far as to call a herd of goats "civilization" (top right). Closer to the coast, there were abundant fields of brussel sprouts, full of pickers brought in by the busload (bottom).
After miles and miles of curves where we took bets on whether we would see water around the next bend, the Pacific finally appeared (top). Even once we reached the coastal road, we had to travel about 5 more kilometers to its end (bottom). But by then, at least there was more scenery to take my mind off my rump, which was partially numb from the bumping.
Puerto Santo Tomas describes itself as a resort, which is a bit of an oversell. No one greeted us right when we arrived, but the keeper came across us before we rang the bell on the arch, as a sign instructed. The "resort" consists of a few houses, a couple of apartments, a boat ramp, and a restaurant that is open only by request. It's mainly a good base for fishermen who want more direct access to some of the most fertile areas of the Pacific.
Fishermen can bring their own boats or hire one of the many pangas in the adjacent fishing village (top left). Business has seen better days -- only two houses were occupied -- and some pangas have been retired (top right). Their loss was our gain, in the form of a quiet campsite on the side of a bluff (bottom). Because of the curve of the bay, we didn't have a view of the sunset, but the stars at night were amazing, considering that there was no electricity along the coast that we could see. I think I even saw the leche of the Milky Way.
TJ was more entranced by the actions of honest-to-god fishermen, who set lobster traps and dove for clams right below our bluff (top left). One wetsuited guy used a basic airline (no tank) to navigate through the algae to the seabed while the two men who remained in the boat pulled up and checked the traps (top right). The boat's movement scared up a raft (yes, that's what a group is called!) of sea lions (bottom). Each morning, we enjoyed watching them frolic near the rocks while we drank some coffee. The first night, we had a no-frills dinner of grilled ham-and-cheese sandwiches, which somewhat made up for the many tostadas.
The next day, we returned to La Bocana, where Canyon Gravel Road meets the coastal road and where San Ignacio Lagoon (top left) meets the Pacific Ocean. When the tide is right, the water is low enough to wade across the lagoon to a sandy spit of beach (top right). We knew we couldn't coax Sage into crossing, so TJ and I took turns scrambling down the rocks to take a bracing dip in the waves (bottom).
TJ doesn't need to be on a diet and wasn't satisfied with simple sandwiches, so he arranged to get a calico bass from the keeper of the inn for our next night's dinner. The keeper even went to the trouble of filleting it for us, but he still wouldn't accept payment; instead, we bought only the firewood, including some mesquite. Worried that the fish would stick to the metal, we lined our basket with foil (left), then TJ seasoned the fish with lime, Old Bay, seafood-soup mix, and olive oil (right).
Our firepit was a bit unusual, so TJ had the added challenge of shifting coals from the pit to the grill area (top left), while he was cooking an appetizer of shrimp caldo and some onions and peppers to go with the fish (top right). But in the end, the meal, complete with a cucumber salad, came out perfectly, as always (bottom). TJ's only regret is that we didn't pick up some good regional wine to go with our dinner.
Although healthy, the meal was filling, so I decided I needed to burn off some calories by hiking up the trail by our campsite. It was precariously steep and full of scree, but it was worth it for the view of Santo Tomas bay (top) and the outcropping and cove beyond (bottom). Incidentally, later in the day we saw a man come down the trail, carrying a bucket of abalone. Apparently, the path is not for hiking but for the local fisherman to access their traps along the coast to the north.
On our way back to Tijuana, we made up for our wine-stocking failings by stopping at Santo Tomás, the winery named after the valley of the old wine route (top left). We selected the ST Colombard 2008, a refreshingly crisp white (top right), to help stave off the heat of the day. Plus, having a glass next to the vines in the winery's shady picnic area was a good way to ease back into the real world (bottom).
We had plans to stop in Popotla, another suggestion in the No Reservations episode, for a late lunch, but it was pretty hot to leave the dog in the car and we certainly couldn't take him out in the madness of the many restaurants in the village. I didn't immediately jump on the scale upon arriving home, but I noticed that at least one pair of pants felt a little more comfortable the following week. In my opinion, the camping diet worked again, if only to remove some heavy worries from my mind for a few days.
