In March of 2023 we set out on on a 3,000 mile trip to Mexico. A dozen of us including Lori the black lab. Four of the five vehicles being from Colorado, including my wife and daughter in our JT towing the Bantam trailer. We drove a thousand miles just to get to the good stuff, then a thousand back. Turns out, getting to and from home was an adventure in itself.
I have included links (in blue) to information on the places described here.
I’ll be writing a strongly worded letter to Specialty Tires of America
300 miles into the first day, one of the STA Super Traxions came apart throwing a chunk of rubber past our buddies Logan and Taylor behind us. After a 10 minute, NASCAR worthy pit stop with Jake on the impact wrench and Kaylie on the jack, I called my hero Matt. Being the member of our expedition who lives closest to the border (a shade over 100 miles) I figured he had the most time to kill before meeting us in Tecate, Ca. He dropped whatever he was doing and went out and purchased a new tire so I could continue into Mexico with a spare. The spare I had under the trailer was one of the six year old original tires that I had previously damaged but it still held air. The tire that separated was the one I’d replaced it with. Not yet two years old. I would be nervous the rest of the trip on those long 80 mph interstate sections but the tires held up fine for next 2700 miles.
In Camalu, Baja California we ate tacos then walked across the street to the Llantera and paid $52 pesos to have the new spare spooned onto the rim. That’s $3 USD.
We all met up and camped at Portrero County Park, just minutes north of the border. We exchanged money, purchased FFM tourists visas and stocked up on groceries. At the border crossing, the Mexican guards were VERY interested in the Bantam trailer, especially the military surplus ammo containers I use to house and store stuff. One of them wiped the dust from the word “WEAPONS” stenciled on the cylindrical carrier that is bolted to the tailgate. I showed him that it was empty. Told him I put my dirty clothes in it. I had to remove the cover on the big ammo box on the tongue to show him the propane shower inside. He did not look at any of our passports or even peek into the truck. With the registration card in hand, he wanted to see the VIN tag on the trailer. Luckily I have all these i’s dotted and t’s crossed. It would be easy to believe that “this old trailer” wouldn’t matter to them. Logan found this out the hard way.
Logan and Taylor brought two Husqvarnas’ on the trip. Only one would make it past this sign.
The group is in contact via VHF radios. We had a meeting point at a gas station east of town so we could regroup after crossing. If you venture south of the border, remember, your jerry cans need to be empty when you cross. Nobody checked that though. Logan radioed that he was being sent back to the U.S. side because he had no paperwork on the “didn’t think they’d care about an old dirtbike” 1987 Husky. Long story short, they found a place to store the bike and got across. The hour delay presented a time crunch for our trip leader, Baja Veterano John Marnell. Instead of the 60 miles of dirt up through the pine forests and lakes of El Reyo, we would head south on El Compadre trail.
The wet weather that Alta California has experienced this winter did not get stopped at the border. Baja was MUDDY!
El Compadre is a very scenic 50 mile trail that starts just east of Tecate and ends just east of Ojos Negros on Mex3. It runs through a gorgeous series of valleys, past ranchos, through pine forest, and one surprise Federale checkpoint, the first I’ve experienced off the pavement in the Baja backcountry. A smile and the word “vacaciones” and where we came from and where we were headed and we’re through, nada problema. We saw a lot of armed convoys on this trip. The Army, National Guard, Federal Police etc. It’s a tad unnerving at first because on approach, there is always a masked gunman in a turret with a .50 cal. pointed right at you. In the more than 40 years of exploring Baja, I don’t recall seeing these many convoys but you get used to it. You get the feeling they are probably paid off by the people they are supposed to be patrolling for, but that they have zero interest in harassing a bunch of gringos’ in 4×4’s. So, you’re left with the question, why are they there? Part of the excitement of being in a foreign country I suppose.
The road to Mike’s is always a pleasure. Plenty of Baja Burros and Peros’ to welcome you.
45 miles of bad pavement on Mex3 with lots “pottanks” and washouts. “Pothole” doesn’t describe these gnarly attention getters. Gas in Valle De Trinidad and on to Mike’s Sky Ranch over 30 miles of good dirt.
The “bad” pavement loosened the fan control wires on Jake’s CJ5 and it overheated. Good pit stop for Lori the Lab though. I should mention that Jake finished a top-end rebuild on the motor the day before we left Colorado and besides a busted rear shock mount, the little Jeep did great.
We stopped briefly for Jake to fix the fan wiring issue and enjoyed the fun rocky spots and creek crossings on the road to Mike’s, arriving near dark to the news that this famous spot on the Baja 1000 course was a ghost town tonight. John covered all the bases preparing for this trip, including a call into Mike’s (he was a personal friend of the late Mike Leon) to ensure the bar would be open for us and rooms were available to those who wanted one. He was assured they would be. It wasn’t and they were $100 USD per person. I was excited to share this racer’s paradise in the mountains with it’s swimming pool and great steak and eggs with my friends in the group who had never been there. Baja Bound has a nice write-up about Mike’s Sky Ranch if you’re interested. It is a neat spot but not this day. Disappointed in the lack of hospitality, we drove down to a spot on San Rafael Creek and set up camp for the night.
Kimberly is the pero pied piper of Baja.
Camping on the creek below Mike’s.
We woke to a very damp camp as expected. Wet tent, mattress, bedding and clothes. There are trout in this creek but I only brought saltwater tackle and we had no time anyway. Taylor woke up in his hammock with a dog that wasn’t Lori on top of him. The plan to head over the mountains to the Pacific via El Coyote was abandoned due to concerns that the heavy winter storms had made the notoriously tough trail tougher than usual. John has ruined jeeps down here. Rolled a baja bug once too. He’s driven the Rubicon. But he now prefers at the age of 78 to cautiously get to the next margarita stop with all vehicles intact. His call. Instead, we took a dirt route over the mountains from Valley T to Mex1 about 20 miles north of Punta Colnett. Through deep mud holes, over a mountain pass covered in California Poppies, down into a fertile farming valley that sees trophy trucks exceed 100 mph when the course runs through here, as it often does. We stopped in little villages and handed out stickers and T-shirts to kids. It’s a nice gringo thing to do.
Part of this route has been graveled. It looked a bit different than when I saw it last, 35 years ago or so.
Before the aforementioned taco and tire mounting stop in Camalu, we paid a visit to Casa Hogar Eben-Ezer in Puerta al Cielo, just north of San Quintin. (more affectionately known as “grandpas”) to deliver some donations. John has visited several orphanages in Baja over the decades and has grown fond of the non-profit elderly home here. There are apx. 20 in residence including some “grandmas” now, and with no family to take care of them, this place is here surviving on donations. So we dropped off bags of canned food, toiletries, clothing etc. and met the grandpas and the wonderful staff who care for them.
John Marnell with the Grandpas’ staff
Our destination for the night was The Old Mill Hotel right on San Quintin Bay. For those in the group who had never seen the Pacific Ocean, we celebrated with a bunch of us ending up in it. The north pacific is not “warm” in March. Hell, it’s never what I would consider warm, but with some antifreeze in the form of tequila in us and the joy of having arrived, we floated and played as if we were in Tahiti. The Old Mill has a sweet bar and restaurant and rooms for $55 USD per night. We had a blast!
Cold for Coloradans’ is relative. Add to that Taylor is from upstate New York and this was just a refreshing dip.
Palm trees, pina coladas’ and parking for our long rig. What could be better?
I had these stickers made to commemorate the trip and hoped to embarrass the slightly bashful Marnell (aka Ed) by putting his mug right on it but he seemed rather tickled by it. I plastered many throughout Mexico, even handed one to a cop who looked at it, looked at John and cracked up.
I absolutely love stickers. So do the local people of Baja who are proud of the SCORE racing culture that has now been a huge part of the peninsula for almost 60 years. As such, every place you go that is frequented by racers, off-roaders, adventure bikers, anglers and the like, is plastered with stickers. Every square inch of glass on every window and door is covered. So if you happen to visit some of the places we did, you will see Rovers Jeep Club stickers placed liberally throughout.
We set our sights south on a mostly paved route with a stop at La Lobera, the Sea Lion Cave. La Lobera is only 3 miles of dirt from Mex1 but it was nice and rough in places. In Mexico, sea lions are referred to as sea wolves which I think is more appropriate. Fisherman call them peros and they are way more wolf like than lion like. There were several, including pairs of moms and pups and you can watch them from an observation point on the rim of the “cave” which is more of a natural crater connected to the sea by a tunnel. It’s a fascinating place and a great spot to watch the “dogs” swim in the surf and nap on the sand contained within the crater. Steve and Matt, both avid long range saltwater fishermen both said, “I hate those fucking things” and went off to view the coastline. I’ve had my share of big fish ambushed by the sea dogs but I still enjoy watching ’em.
La Lobera
You can’t drive through El Rosario without stopping at the famous racer’s hangout Mama Espinoza’s. The food is great, there’s Baja racing memorabilia everywhere (it was the sight of a checkpoint in the very first 1000 in 1967) and Mama Espinoza’s story is fascinating. Click the link above to learn more.
Campo Archelon, Bahia De Los Angeles.
The remnants of Kaylie’s 18th birthday party, celebrated Baja style in Bay of LA.
Our destination and home for two nights was the wonderful Campo Archelon in Bay of L.A. on the Sea of Cortez. Archelon is Spanish for sea turtle and this site is the former home of a sea turtle rescue facility. Now you can rent a beautiful beach house or camp at a palapa right on the sand. We opted for the former to break up the camping a bit. On this trip of ten nights, we ended up camping half and hotel/house half. Antonio is a great host. My family stayed in Casa Carey which was lovely. All the little beach casitas’ are simple but cozy, unique and charming and we had the whole neighborhood to ourselves for the most part. By design, day 2 in BOLA was a rest day and most of us just lounged around or went into town. My daughter Kaylie turned 18 which is the legal drinking age in Mexico so it was surely one to remember. We even managed to find a Piñata that we filled with candy and took turns beating the hell out of.
Airing down for the road to Mision San Borja.
Just a few miles out of Bay of L.A. is a 45 mile road that takes you south from roughly sea level to around 2,000′ through what has to be the most whimsical, beautiful and diverse desert landscape on earth. Maybe there is something better out there but my jaw can’t drop any lower so I don’t need to see it. Elephant Trees, Boojums, Ocotillos, Cardons as well as what seemed to be a hundred other cactus species in such density that besides the rocky trail we were on, it would be impossible to move in any direction more than a few feet. Add to that, the amount of rain that has fallen here recently and you have blooming flowers and green grass all around. We always say that the pictures don’t do it justice and this is especially true here. It’s a place you just have to see with your own eyes. If Dr. Seuss ever drew a desert, this is what it would have looked like.
Probably one of the neatest places the Bantam has posed for a picture.
Debby can always be counted on to get the good flora pics on our trips, so I stole one of hers. Photo Debby Ridgway
A Cardon Gateway to San Borja
Roughly halfway along this route is beautiful Mission San Borja or La Mision De San Francisco de Borja Adac. Established 264 years ago by the Jesuits with a few adobe buildings and thatched huts. Replaced a few years later by the Franciscans who built a large adobe mission church. And as one approaches the site, quarries on the mountain sides can be seen from which the stone was dug by hand, moved by burro, and cut into blocks by the Dominican order a few years after that, in order to construct the huge mission that we toured. The tour lead by Jose Gerardo who’s family has been caretakers of the mission for generations and he was baptized here as an infant. He lead us through this incredible church with high, arched, hand cut stone block ceilings and massive archways. It truly is a sight to behold. Symbols representing the different orders of the catholic church as well as the native tribe in the region are carved throughout. Here’s some more reading with great pics.
The gang at San Borja. L to R -Steve and Debby Ridgway, Taylor Joe T-Tops Perosio, Kimberly and Kaylie, Jessica Weikert, Matt Wright, yours truly, John “Ed Bravo” Marnell, Jake Weikert, Logan “Big Peso” Scott
One of the stone quarries is visible on the mesa above the mission building.
Save for one bad washout where the trail bypass disappeared into a wash and reappeared downstream a ways, we had smooth sailing out to Mex1 and apx 40 miles south to Guerrero Negro, just below the state line into Baja Sur. John built a GPS track of our route on his Lowrance unit and I followed along on mapping I saved on my On X phone app. I love paper maps, but I have grown to like the little blue dot on the electronic ones that shows me where I actually am on it.
Lunch break under a friendly ranchero’s trees was nice since it was drizzling on and off. Lori Dawg knows what time it is.
Guerrero Negro. Translation: Black Warrior. Named for an American whaling ship that wrecked in the lagoon nearby in 1858. That lagoon known for many years as Scammon’s (another whaling ship captain) is why we are here and precisely why we are here in March. But the place names honoring whale killers is at odds with what makes the place so special, and the traditional name, Ojo de Liebre Lagoon is preferred over Scammon’s Lagoon. Each winter, thousands of gray whales migrate down from Canadian waters to mate, give birth and nurse their calves. Many of them choose Ojo de Liebre. What makes this such a special place is that the encounters with these 40 ton mom’s and their babies is very up close, and very personal. We were fortunate to go out with the preeminent naturalist guide Shari Bondy of Whale Magic. She has been studying whales here in GN for 35 years. Advocating for their protection, working with the Mexican Government and sharing her love for these incredible animals with people like us, on intimate small boat (panga) tours. Her infectious enthusiasm and a wry sense of humor was just perfect for a group of dirt heads like us. Simply put, this is a life changing experience. When a 50 foot whale looks into your soul from mere inches away it can have an impact. A mother whale with markings of shark attacks, boat propeller encounters, fishing net entanglements. A mother who is not eating during the three months she’s here, but is feeding her 15′ long newborn 100 lbs of milk per day. She’s lucky she gave birth here because grays born in the open ocean are nearly always killed by sharks. This mother, cautiously but curiously edges away from the boat’s shallow gunnel to make way for her precious calf to come along side and meet these humans, and you realize that she is consciously introducing her baby to you. It can bring one to tears. And we also saw a huge whale penis and found out they prefer threesomes and witnessed whales screwing which lead to whale dick and whale porn jokes and brought us all back down to earth before heading back to Shari’s Baja Magic Hacienda where we had fresh ceviche tacos and really good margaritas’ until it was time to hit the trail. Any jokes aside, the experience is truly magical. We stroked whale’s chins, kissed whales cheeks and got blown by whales (Shari’s term for when one blows water right at your face from it’s blow hole). They were playful, engaging and approachable in just a weary enough way to remind you that this ain’t a show at Sea World, we are in the wild here. If you’d like to get blown by a whale or have your place in the universe questioned like mine was by this experience, Guerrero Negro BCS Mexico is around 500 miles south of San Diego. Contact Shari. You can camp or lodge at her Hacienda. The whole thing, which included our stay, the tour, breakfast and lunch and transportation out to their whale camp was only $100 USD per person. Therapy costs WAY more.
The author, grinning like an idiot, giggling like a school girl, as a huge adult female gray whale comes in for some love with Shari looking on. Photo credit- Kimberly Burleson
Regretfully, it was early afternoon and we had to go. With 70 miles of dirt between us and our next planned camp, we were burning daylight. 15 miles of blacktop on Mex1 south of GN we jumped on a route called Valle de los Cirios (the other word for Boojum, which we all recognized now look similar to a whale penis). Back across into Baja Norte, through the mining ghost town of El Arco and on to a little hike to see some graffiti.
The Painted Cave of El Carmen.
Located a short but steep hike off a winding side trail is this fantastic cave painting at El Carmen. Read more about it in the link. The lore of giants makes it very intriguing. It’s not the only site in the area that features seemingly giant humans on cave ceilings seemingly too high for regular humans to reach. It’s the only one near enough a road to visit without needing to ride a burro or hike many miles. It pre-dates the tribes who were here when the Spanish showed up 300 years ago and they were considered ancient and mysterious to them. So, maybe a giant race of humans in Baja thousands of years ago?
Knowing that it would be late getting to the gulf that night, we rolled into Rancho Piedra Blanca, just a few miles up the wash from El Carmen. We found a beautiful oasis there with friendly hosts, both two and four legged.
Camp among the Cacti at “White Stone Ranch“.
This is a working ranch with an area set aside amongst the boulders and cardons for backcountry travelers such as ourselves to stay the night. The stickers on the windows give away the typical clientele. What I didn’t expect were showers, toilets and a kitchen/dining building at our disposal. It’s beautiful here. The hospitality was warming. The peros adopted us. We made a grand group meal and ate at a table fit for cartel bosses. Had a nice campfire. We woke to the sound of cattle mooing. $10 USD per vehicle. I WILL visit this place again.
Matt and Debby cooked a fantastic meal for the group.
We have a secret signal now. No it’s not a Boojum tree, but close.
The ranchero dropped off a truck load of dried cactus for us that burned REALLY well.
This beautiful old pickup sitting here 60 miles from the nearest paved road.
With only 35 miles of trail to our next destination, we would have a full day to play at San Francisquito. Now, there is a Puerto San Francisquito, a Punta San Francisquito and I believe, a Playa San Francisquito. They are all adjacent to each other. We stayed at Beto’s Camp which is at the Puerto. This is a gorgeous little protected cove with a boat dock and white sand beach. Beto’s has some facilities for campers such as bathrooms and a bunkhouse but we camped far away from all that at the southern end of the beach. The wheelin’ on this trip has not been difficult but there are spots now and then that make it interesting.
Jake in the Jeep and Logan in the Ram negotiating a steep washout.
The Cactus Convoy. For the most part the trail is just sandy and beautiful out here.
We stopped to give a solo biker some gas and turns out he’s a U.S. Navy F-18 pilot just trying to get ‘lost’ in Baja.
This gave me some evil ideas about an amphibious Bantam Boat Camper build.
There’s just something about driving across the dusty desert and then jumping into the blue ocean that makes Baja special.
This was a great day to relax, swim, read, nap, hang out and enjoy the warm weather. The Tres Pescaderos’ on this trip, myself, Matt and Steve decided to fish. The bay looks promising but March is not really the best time of year for surf fishing. Matt did foul hook one stingray so at least he got to feel a rod bend. The real action a the end of a hook and line was when Logan buried his truck in the deep sugar sand over on the playa side. He’d gone off on his motorcycle and a couple hours later came walking into camp to get his truck. He’d killed the bike and it wouldn’t start. In an attempt to retrieve the bike he wound up stuck on the beach with the tide coming in. We piled into Steve’s Power Wagon on a mission. The sand was so deep and soft that Steve had to perch his truck high up on the beach and use several tow straps to get enough cable down to winch Logan out. It was a good exercise and fun too, as it usually is for every one whos is not “the one.”
Boys don’t grow up. They just play in a bigger sand box.
Matt pullin’ cable.
Nobody worked harder than Kaylie and Taylor who ended up having to push the motorcyle across a mile of soft sand to get it back to the truck. Margaritas’ were on Logan that night!
It does not get any better than this.
Kimberly Matt and John
Steve and Logan “The Dodge Brothers” and Jake
My little Swiss Army knife.
Since this is supposed to be a blog about my little homegrown project camping trailer built out of a 77 year old Bantam T3-C, for the purpose of sharing my ideas and experiences, I’ll mention the new shower tent. On a long trip like this one, my wife wanted more room to organize and change clothes without being in the wet shower tent. Our old one was the type that springs open easily but never goes back into that circle shape ever again for storage. It didn’t take up much space but I was always fighting with it. Enter the Easy-Go shower shelter. It’s sturdier in the wind, isn’t hard to put up and take down and provides a shower and toilet side and a dry side for primping. Works good.
The only issue I had with the trailer over this entire trip (besides the tire coming a part) was a finicky zipper on the tent cover. When we packed up to leave San Francisquito on our 8th day I got tired of messing with it and just threw a tie-down over the thing and cinched it down.
I loved this quiet beach camp. BUT, there is something about Beto’s Camp I would feel remise if I didn’t mention, That is the price to camp there was not very Baja. When we arrived, we learned that Beto wasn’t around. We met his brother, who charged $20 USD per person for camping. For me me that was 60 bucks for the night! He charged $10 for firewood and brought over about 5 sticks. I asked if he had more but he said he would have to cut more and it ended there. We paid it but groaned about it. We could have haggled but none of us like to do that. I don’t know if Beto typically charges less and his brother was just fleecing us while he was away or if they figured out that gringos have money and don’t mind spending it, or what. Part of the allure of Baja forever has been that you can spend less than you would in the states. Not at Beto’s. He did have ice though.
We had a long day ahead of us and we were cookin’ across the desert back toward Bay of LA. I can’t tell you how happy I am about how this trailer is holding up. Rock crawling at slow speeds on the mountain trails back home doesn’t put a lot of wear and tear on it. These higher speed desert trips are a bit more punishing. 50 mph on cross grain, washboard and through G-outs SHOULD rattle everything to pieces but it’s a tough little unit. I’m not speaking of the trailer itself but the plywood kitchen and it’s counter top accessories and the water tank and plumbing and all the other stuff mounted to it. It’s probably about time to inspect the water tank to be sure it’s not rubbing in places. A partial tear down next winter maybe.
This gave me evil ideas of proposing a SCORE trailer racing class like they do at demolition derbies.
The day was not all high speed. We had a couple mountain ranges to get over.
Spectacular desert scenery south of BOLA.
The old jail at Las Flores.
We were taking bets on whether Logan would end up in a Mexican jail and……he did.
San Francisquito to BOLA is 80 miles of dirt. We made a couple stops. First the little fishing camp of Bahia San Rafael. The second, the old ghost town of Las Flores where the jail stands seemingly as strong as when it was built in the late 1800’s. Made it into town in time for lunch at the infamous Guillermo’s, right on the water. Incredible fish tacos and margaritas and a great view.
The crew at Guillermo’s in Bay of LA.
We made our way north a short distance on Mex1 to the southern entrance to Calamajue Wash (pronounced Calamaway). At the cattle gate we were met by a large group of SXS’s who warned us that the route was VERY whooped out. Ironic. SCORE ran this wash as part of the course for many years and it was never as chewed up as it has become now with all the SXS’s (SXS Side By Side, UTV Utility Vehicle, GGC Glorified Golf Cart). It was so bad that we bailed off back to the highway, for a few reasons besides the kidney pounding whoops. One, a rain storm was moving toward the wash. The wash has springs and always has water but a rain storm might make it hard to get out before dark and nobody wants to camp in a wash in a rain storm. The endless deep whoops slowed our pace so bad that this looked inevitable. The other reason was John broke a rear shock.
I’d been patiently biding my time waiting for the moment to take a picture of something broken on the Toyota.
Bummer to miss Calamjue but there is always next time. It was getting late so it was a good call. We rolled into Gonzaga Bay close to dark and worn out. Our first attempt to find a beach camp went sour at Punta Final when we were told we couldn’t have a campfire (what has Baja become?). I told the guy in broken spanish that he had too many rules. We landed at Campo Beluga (this link says the camp is permanently closed but we found it open for business). $20USD per vehicle at two palapas is a bit more reasonable. Very nice bathrooms and friendly hosts. It got real windy that night. Over the course of the trip we had been very lucky when it came to wind. March can get stupid windy on the gulf side. This night was a real tent flapper.
Cooking dinner in the dark on the beach at Gonzaga Bay.
Campo Beluga on Bahia San Luis Gonzaga. They allow campfires. For now.
It’s a hundred miles from Gonzaga to San Felipe on PAVEMENT?!. Last time I drove this stretch it was all dirt. That was 23 years ago. A lot has changed and I guess it’s for the better if you prefer getting places quickly. The drive along the coast is still gorgeous, just not quite as adventurous. The new highway (an extension of Mex5) bypasses Puertecitos but you can still catch of glimpse of the town and it’s turquoise bay. We HAD to make a stop at the Chenowth Museum out at Rancho Percebu. The Legacy Lodge is another special Baja racing hangout with a display of a dozen or so race cars and tons of racing memorabilia, trophies, driving suits, helmets, pictures and on and on. Lynn Chenowth is a pioneer of the tube frame buggy chassis and there are some famous ones in his museum. His bar and restaurant weren’t bad either and the hotel looks like it would be a very cool place to stay.
Wandering around the Chenowth Museum looking at buggies like this one driven by Ivan Stewart long before he was “Ironman” Ivan Stewart of Toyota fame.
The famous Arcos welcome you to San Felipe.
Our last two nights in Baja would be in a rented condo (actually two) in San Felipe. In an attempt to clean up, wash clothes, organize gear, make vehicle repairs and just plain relax before crossing back over the border we booked condos months in advance through MySanFelipeVacation. We had some issues but I would recommend them based on how those issues were handled in a polite and professional manner. It worked out to about $150 per vehicle per night with the group splitting two large condos. Personally these VERY Americanized rentals in gated, landscaped, golf course communities full of gringos in expensive SUV’s is very anti-Baja and I would consider different options on the next trip. When the rental agent saw the dirtbike in the bed of Logan’s truck, he said “they won’t let you in the gate with the motorcycle.” We told him it was broken. He reiterated that he couldn’t enter the condos with the bike. Logan told him it would stay in the truck because it wouldn’t start anyway. The guy argued back. You are not allowed to take it into the condos. We said but why? It can not and will not be ridden. And the dude said, and I quote: “Well, it’s the policy. You know how you Americans are!” In the end the guard at the gate didn’t even notice the bike and we did a pretty good job of hiding the dog too. The hot tub at the condos was a nice touch, I’m not gonna lie. A terrific dinner at Pete’s Camp that night and some shopping on the malecon in town the next day and it was time to say adios to Mexico. It’s 120 miles north to Mexicali where we’d cross back into the States and head for home.
The sun rising over the beach at Pete’s Camp. One last incredible breakfast in Baja.
Logan and Taylor had to make the 175 mile round trip to Tecate to pick up the bastard motorcycle and get back to meet us as we crossed the border. The next two days, the adventure continued for the Colorado Contingent as we battled snow and ice, closed mountain passes and interstates, and one police standoff on I-25 at Santa Fe. Exhausted but already starting to plan the next one. Everyone agreed it was one of the best trips they’d ever been on. One described it as a 1000 mile pub crawl, but they weren’t complaining.
I will probably run the cord through some type of conduit to protect it.
The fridge has a digital control panel and it really gets down to the set temp quickly. It can be used to cool OR freeze but not both at the same time. The unit from this manufacturer that performs these tasks simultaneously was too tall to fit our application. The last step is to mount a couple of tie-down points to cinch the thing down. The sliding tray will make unloading the potty and any other gear easier. Now we just need the mountains to thaw out so we can test it out.
The Ol’ Bantam has been 99% complete for a while and ready for a sea trials. I’d only made some small tweaks and adjustments over the last month. I’ve been stocking the kitchen. Squirreling stuff away. I re-engineered the water line connection at the sink because the fittings on the end of the curly-Q hoses were pushing into the water tank when the sliding cabinet was pushed all the way in. I had to play with the propane pressure a little to get the hot water heater to fire off. The trailer was badly in need of a shake down cruise but I was waiting for a little warmer weather so the wife would go. Our days here at nearly 9000 ft. have mostly been sunny and warm but the low temps at night dip into the 20’s regularly. This is why I was surprised when she called me on her way home from town and said, “lets go camp in the jeep trailer tonight.” Being nearly 4pm I was a little skeptical. The trailer was sitting there ready to go. It would be a matter of throwing a nights worth of clothes in a bag and hitting a grocery store on the way. We have plenty of remote camping in the area but it’s been such a dry winter that we have burn bans in place. No campfire, no go. The BLM areas below us where the pine forest meets the desert scrub had no restrictions and would be a little warmer too. The trailer was full of water, firewood, propane, gasoline, bedding, utensils, chairs…everything we would need except for one item that I’d been meaning to buy: porta-potty. My wife, whom I was so proud of for enthusiastically suggested this trip, said she was not in the mood to squat amongst the cactus tonight. I ran to the garage and four minutes later returned with a home made toilet seat bungee corded to a bucket with a roll of TP fastened to the side. VOILA! Slap a hefty bag in this bad boy and we have a throne fit for a queen. I avoided photos of it to protect what little dignity we have left. I got the thumbs up, if not begrudgingly, and we threw the new Labradoodle puppy in the back seat hit the road. 
The aptly named “Window Rock”
The beauty of this set up is you don’t need to find that flat spot for a tent. This was a good demonstration of just how “off bubble” we can camp. In the picture you can see the slope and all my handy rock work.
Happy Camper!
The inside had a molded sleeve to snugly fit whatever the Army was storing in these things. I took it out to make room and am lining it with thin closed cell foam.
$10 got me the rubber strap kit that they claim is capable of holding a full jerry can. It comes with one 38″ strap, two mounting posts and a connector to combine two straps. One strap was long enough to cut in half for this application so I could go around the tank twice. I used the connector provided to fashion a second set of mounting posts. This setup seems very secure but I wanted a little something more to prevent the tank slipping out of it’s straps. I bolted a hook on the trailer that should hold it, and it aids in keeping the tank in place while fastening the rubber straps. 
1946 American Bantam Trailer Build 