21 January 2012

Guerrero Negro lighthouse

Hello, Guerrero Negro. Everyone back home says you're pretty forgettable. Bypassable, even. Is that so?

Agenda: Avoid being nearly T-boned by a northbound semi while photographing the "Bienvenidos a Baja California Sur" sign at the state line in the dark. Set clock ahead an hour. Find the hotel to least likely to smell like snuff, El Caracol (550 pesos a night), one of the first you pass after leaving the freeway to head into town. Guard the TV remote ever so preciously; aside from the sheets it's the only thing standing between you and your 100 peso deposit. Make out with six-pack of Indio. Pass out.

In the morning, ask the coffee girl if she perhaps knows where to find a promising lookout point on the coast for southbound whales. Ignore her daggerly stare that screams, "Do I look like a fucking tour guide?"

Follow the Faro Viejo signs through town and 20 minutes west down a dirt road, past the Brave New World windmill, across the bay, technically back into Baja California Norte without even knowing it and out to the old lighthouse. Bask in its Athenian crumble. Ponder the possibility of swimming to the salt beds on the horizon.

Refuel. Carne asada torta at a restaurant called Cowboy. Fried egg upgrade. Back to the road. Santa Rosalia, allí te va.

Kilometers from Tijuana: 727.


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