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Burt's Beach
Explorations of the BajaBy Spencer Anderson
Labor Day weekend is a time when we relax with our friends and families over a barbeque during the broiling September heat. Typically the best way to spend it is at home as the traffic can be as bad as Christmas. Last year though, we took it as a perfect opportunity to get out of crowded Los Angeles and travel to Baja California.
Leaving our apartment in Venice Beach at a quiet five in the morning, our group of four loaded up the car with our camping gear and surfboards. We managed to beat the traffic and got to the border by eight o'clock.
The U.S. - Mexico border is something we always hear about, but few actually see for themselves. My father told me we'd have a long wait and would have to buy car insurance along with a dozen other bureaucratic nightmares. The border patrol wound up consisting of three lanes of freely moving traffic and three traffic lights. The process is simple. You drive your car up to the light and if it turns green you proceed, if it turns red they inspect your car and ask questions. Our light was green making the border crossing take a mere two minutes. It felt more like merging onto a highway than entering a foreign country.
Having no desire to stop in Tijuana, we drove on. Once the city was out of our rear view Baja California's true nature opened up. We drove through high, beautiful barren mountains with the view of the enormous blue Pacific Ocean flanking us on the right. Occasionally we passed small towns, but after about 100 kilometers into Baja there was simply nothing but raw Mexican landscape. It's been said that Baja gets even better the further you descend. We only made it about an eighth of the way down the 1,200 kilometer peninsula, but the further we went it definitely did get more rugged and exciting.
It was an exhilarating ride. We'd all breathe deeply as the car ascended into the mountains away from the ocean's protection from the heat. Just when it seemed we couldn't bare more temperature, the mountains would take us back down to the water where the ocean breeze cooled us off.
Our plan was simple: find an isolated beach where we could camp and surf. All of our friends told us Baja was loaded with immaculate, picturesque, and isolated beaches so we figured it would be easy. However, we were approaching 200 kilometers down the coast and the road had taken us away from the water. We were cutting down the middle of Baja with no clue where to go.
Our luck changed completely when Nick spotted a duct taped, cardboard sign that read "Burt's Beach" with an arrow pointing west. Not having much of an alternative we turned right and headed down a dirt path that vaguely resembled a road. We continued down the bumpy route whose only consolation was that it was heading towards the ocean. Two kilometres later and still no sight of the sea. Our car was covered in dirt that leaked through the windows creating a light film on our teeth.
Finally, way off in the distance we saw a huge mass of blue. We all screamed at the sight of the Pacific Ocean but we still had no idea what kind of beach lay ahead. What we found exceeded all expectations.
As we neared the coast we saw a perfect break of surf along with miles of sand dunes. Behind us to the north and south an endless stretch of majestic mountains reassured us that we were in fact in Baja California.
There were a few other cars there, maybe seven or eight. Vans mostly, full of young Californians and Mexican families. It definitely appeared to be a local place, along with the perfect spot to pitch our tents for the night. I threw on my wetsuit and sprinted into the enormous waves with my surfboard. Nick and Pete threw the Frisbee while Mexican men checked out Chase in her bikini.
After a few hours of playing we were all hungry and decided to drive to the nearest town to pick up some groceries for the grill. There was a tiny town about twenty kilometres from the turnoff to Burt's Beach where we bought some hot dogs, buns, and water.
Along the way back I noticed a taco stand and pulled the car over. Costing around 30 cents each, the four of us ate about fifteen cilantro loaded beef, chicken, and fish tacos. Corona was about a dollar a bottle giving us no choice but to indulge. Stuffed, we headed back to the beach for the ocean sunset that disappointed none.
We spent the next day on the beach enjoying the opportunity to do nothing but relax. Later in the afternoon we decided to head back so we could avoid driving on the Sunday of Labor Day weekend. For a few hours we were the only car on the road until suddenly there was a huge traffic jam up ahead. It made no sense. There was nothing around, not even a small village. Maybe it was an accident. But as the cars gradually eased forwards we realized it was something else: federales.
We had nothing to hide except a few empty beer bottles, but the mere sight of the black suburban trucks and machine gun wielding soldiers sobered us up quickly. Some of the cars were being let through, others, like us, were stopped. We got out and waited by the side of the road as the federales went to town on Chase's Toyota 4Runner.
The police had set up a small waiting area with intimidating pictures of drug busts. Recently there had been a number of arrests for mota (marijuana) trafficking. A group of Mexicans waiting with us were also looking at the pictures. Jokingly one of the men asked me if I had any mota. Then he asked if I wanted to buy any.
Even though we had nothing illegal I remembered all the stories I'd heard about corrupt police planting evidence for bribes. The federales motioned for us to come over. One of the soldiers triumphantly held up one of Chase's tampons and accusingly asked, "tienes la cocaina?" It seemed like he had never seen a tampon before. We told him no and he proceeded to light the tampon on fire with a cigarette lighter. He asked us if we were scared, and we said no but thanks for ruining a perfectly good tampon. Disappointed the soldier threw the tampon aside, muttered something in Spanish, and waved us on…
The cardboard sign for Burt's Beach has probably blown away by now, and I wonder if this guy Burt still goes there anymore. I sure would like to meet him though. But Burt's Beach or no Burt's Beach, Baja California is loaded with similar places. There's probably a beach ten, fifty, or one hundred kilometres north or south of where we were that's probably an even better experience. In fact I'm sure that there are hundreds of beaches without names waiting to be discovered. And when you do discover them, don't forget to put up a makeshift sign that can help the rest of us find the way.
Spencer Anderson finished Trinity College in 2002 with a degree in History and French.
Since graduation he has been teaching English in the South of France and writing for The Riviera Times.
He is an American, but prefers to think of himself as a citizen of the Earth. Spencer resides in France.
His Articles
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