Don Eddie and Mama Espinoza

Feb 16th-17th


I rolled in to Don Eddie's RV park in the afternoon of the 16th. Don Eddie's is next to an old mill, in a picturesque little bay dotted with the remains of 5 small volcanoes. It's a beautiful place and a frequent stop for RVers, fisherman, and photographers. It even has a small airstrip. My budget only allows for paid accommodation like this roughly once a week, when I need to get cleaned up, or rest up, or whatever. After the whole 'dog ate my tent' business, this seemed fit into the 'whatever' category.

The bay and a volcanito

I found some good wifi at the Viejo Molino restaurant next door. I bought my 'ticket of entry' coffee, and got in some quality internet time. I was served by the super happy and chatty Ponciano, or 'Chano', as he liked to be called. He was proud to tell me all about the region and how friendly everyone was. As if to prove this, he kept bringing me free coffee refills, and then the chef, Jose, turned up to offer me a free tasting plate. I didn't understand at first, but he said that being from Australia, he figured I would have a different palate and perspective from the rest of the riff raff. It was a degustation style plate of amazing local pimienta, with balsamic, coriander, and fried garlic slices, jamaica cooled with ginger ice and soy, and a couple of other things. It was incredible, It had been ages since I'd tasted anything that good, and I'd had nothing like it in Mexico. And it was all free, and just for being an Aussie! I rounded out the night with a couple of beers while watching the live 'classic rock' night, and then crashed out.

The tape tent lives to fight another day!

Like some of the revellers from the pub the night before, the tent stayed up until the next morning. Although there had been no wind or rain, I was still encouraged. I started cycling and was immediately joined by the chatty Fily, on his was to work. He laughingly told me no Mexicans ride on the highway like I was doing, and pointed me to a decent side road that he used to get to work. I waved him off and continued on the highway, gringo style. I was still a little bummed by the incident of the dog in the night-time, and still not sure what was going to happen. I couldn't really afford to replace my tent, and I didn't know if it would hold up. I was also running low on time and money. I was going to have to start hitching my way south. However, before I put my project work aside for a while to make haste, I had one more name on my list: Mama Espinoza. I was told she lived in El Rosario (de arriba), some 60 odd clicks down the highway from where I spent the night in San Quintin, and that she would be interesting for me to talk to.

What's that Derek? We're a long way from home? I know Derek, I know...

After about 15km on the road out of San Quintin, traffic thinned out noticeably. Cars only came along every couple of minutes, and I didn't have to jump off the road when there were two cars together quite as often. The highway also got quite close to the pacific again, after being further inland for the last few days. I wanted to say hello to the pacific again before heading inland to El Rosario, so I pulled off the highway for lunch at a random dirt road that lead west to the water, and found it brought me to a beautiful spot on some small cliffs above the ocean. I could almost ride right off the edge, it was amazing!

Not a bad spot for lunch.

I had a pretty easy afternoon cycling, even when the road turned inland again, and climbed up a long valley towards El Rosario, thanks to a nice little tailwind. I arrived in El Rosario, and found Mama Espinozas restaurant. I had a coffee and asked if I could talk to Mama, and they introduced me to her not long after.

Mesas on the road to El Rosario

Mama Espinoza kicked off some of the first medical charity work here in baja many years ago, through her work in setting up the Flying Samaritans. I had heard these guys' names all down the peninsular, and that they flew in specialists from the US to run clinics in remote parts of baja. Mama is 107 years old, speaks fantastic English, and is as cheeky a centurian as you're likely to find. My chat with her was brief, so as not to tire her out, but it was clear she had many a story she could tell about baja and the inspiring characters she had met doing her work. After our chat, I resolved to contact the Samaritans to see if I could help in any way.

Mama!

Having put a nice bookend on my project work for a while, I asked the staff if I could camp near the restaurant and they were kind enough to let me do that for free. I pitched, ate, and planned how I was going to make up some time going down baja.