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Toyota World Runners
So this is where the water is.
San Javier
Sunday spits and hums as we climb 700 meters from sea level into the classic Baja mountainous region. But something feels different. As I reach my arm out the window, my fingertips playing with the setting sun, I notice the silence. The chinook’s exhaust echoes over the hills. A small rancho peeks over dusty hills every few kilometres, but nature owns this area. To our most pleasant surprise, as we crest over the final hill, our tires take a bath in an overflowing river. Little did we know, this would not be the last, so we hop out of the truck and imagine what it would look like during the rainy season. Most likely uncrossable. Right now, the splash is refreshing, and we enjoy the next couple that appear on the route. This entire trip, we have come across very few areas with this much water.
The desert flora changes vastly when we roll into town. New dark green hues cover the hillside, and plants other than cacti frame each corner. As the song of the Chinook gets turned down to low, the tires add some drums as we roll over what feels like historic cobblestone. The low tapping of the drums is harmonized with playful song birds waltzing through the flowers announcing our arrival. Around the cobblestone corner, a golden hour show spotlights the mission. All this song needs is some bells and we could sell it.
The San Javier mission stands tall in the centre of the village, and holds stories from another lifetime. When we arrive, the doors are closed, but we enjoy gazing at the exterior as the afternoon hummingbirds begin their feed. Freckled along the stone walls are wild flowers providing dinner for these special birds. This place is special. Noticing the rapidly dipping sun however, camp was on the horizon. Sunsets in the mountains bring so many different layers to the colours, and we love spinning in circles to witness every different show.
Unsure why we chose a plateau in the desert to do some mechanical work, but here we are. This sweaty, sticky, unbearably hot morning Sunday gets a new fan clutch. We’re hot, but so is Sunday. We have been noticing unusually high temperatures coming from our home on wheels, and are hoping the fan clutch is the culprit. Once installed, we can only wait and hope to see a change. Good things come to those with patience right?
Today, we are driving further past San Javier down a dirt road to Santo Domingo where we will meet one of our subscribers and soon to be friend, Michael. We think the word road should be used loosely in Baja. A dirt road that may look normal on our map will dip through rivers, contain large boulder obstacles, and swallow your tire pot holes. Yet, halfway down said “road” we always come across a cute little house with a Honda Civic parked out front. This is the Mexican way, always outdriving us with vehicles we would never dream of driving here.
When we arrive at the rancho, we are greeted with the red bum of a familiar 60 series Landcruiser and a joyful smile beside it. We are the only two vehicles here, and that’s cool. After brief introductions, the boys make quick work of describing each corner of both vehicles. I’m not sure if the Toyota obsession blood runs heavy through all of its owners, but these two sure seem to have it tapped in their veins. I stand back and am in charge of the oo’s and awe’s as we walk around Michael’s rig. He will also be driving the Pan American highway later this year, so it’s interesting to see what creature comforts he has chosen for the endeavour.
Interrupting the truck talk, the rancho’s owner and son come up to Michael and ask if he would still like to see the cave paintings. New to our knowledge, we wait for his answer. He accepts and insists we join. No sooner are our runners on and we’re following the teenager down a dirt road. “Watch out for snakes” was all his father said as he sent us off.
After about a kilometre on the flat, Brian, or at least I think he said Brian stops us in our tracks and points up to a cliff. The cave paintings are at the base of cliff which requires a vertical hike, something we haven’t done in awhile. Huffing, and puffing I can smell Tecate reaching out from my pores. Once we’ve made it to the top, we turn around and take in the low light blanketing the neighbouring hills. Other than drone flying, this is the first time we’ve been able to take in our surroundings from above. The silent beauty the inland desert wears is one of our favourite outfits we’ve witnessed in Baja so far. I listen closely, and can hear cows munching, enjoying the cooler temperature as the flies leave them be. I can hear crickets getting ready for their dusk symphony, and flowers folding their pedals as they tuck themselves in.
Brian speaks very little English, so it’s fun interpreting the painted shapes and scenes on the rock wall with sign language.
After some well deserved Tecates, we all fall asleep to the song of the desert parading between the mountains.
I had no idea the effect roosters would have on Matthew until this peaceful morning turned not do peaceful in rapid fire. I have experienced travel in places where roosters wake you from your slumber at unnecessary times, and continue at their own leisure. This wasn’t news to my ears, so at 5 am I drifted back to sleep. Matthew however, hopped out of the Chinook to go have a stern talking with the alarm clocks. ( in his underwear ) They didn’t quite understand his English and continued. Maybe if he would have asked in Spanish? I can’t help but lose it with laughter.
Leaving places like San Javier is hard. The inland manages once again to take a little piece of our hearts and returns them just a little warmer. One last 4x4 for the rigs to a neighbouring oasis and our vehicles were aimed back to Loreto to stock up again.
