Day 17 Miles: 51

It was a white-knuckle drive out of Los Cabos with 10 rigs in the morning commute traffic. Thankfully our drive was short.

Before settling in for the day we stopped at two textile factories. All products are made on site.

If I still had a house I would have come home with at least a couple of rugs. I settled for a handwoven, wool Che Guevara cross-body bag, and a quilt.

As we pulled into the RV park entrance for the night, my brow furrowed.

The place looked awful, with long, dusty bumpy roads seemingly leading to nowhere. We knew the Pacific Ocean was off in the the distance, because we had driven parallel to it for many miles, but we couldn’t see the it because of the huge construction site between us and the water. Parked, we found zero amenities and more of those stickers that are so bad for doggy paws.

Then I heard the yelp of a small pup. Across the lot, a black-and-white puppy was tethered with a leash to a big rig. I went over to pet her, and she cowered between my legs and licked me. The owners of the rig were out motorbiking in the foothills by the beach when they found the puppy. They had recently returned when our group pulled in. They already had a dog, and they were hoping to place the dog in a shelter in nearby El Pecadero, but they had just discovered there is no shelter in El Pescadero. “Do you know anyone who wants a dog?”

Keith and Sheila, Rig #5, have been expressing interest in adopting a Mexican dog since Day One. They have been pet-free for a couple of years. Their rig is stocked with treats and collars and leashes and all the accoutrements, just in case. Keith worked in pet supplies and pet pharmaceuticals for over 30 years before he retired. Maria volunteers at the shelter in Los Cabos every year, and before she left she gave them all the information, but while we were in Cabo, Keith and Sheila were told no dogs were available until March 7.

A few more of our group wandered over to see the puppy, and someone suggested Keith and Sheila. Keith came over first to inspect the dog before he presented it to Sheila. He wanted to make sure it was in good general health before she fell in love with it. I’ll let the photos speak for themselves.

After the happy dog adoption, I heard we were allowed to use the pool at the resort in front of us. I went over to take a look and was blown away.

Huge Pacific Ocean waves crashed on the shore in view of the pool with two Jacuzzis and a swim–up bar. Bob Marley played on the stereo. I ran back to the rig and changed into my bathing suit for the first time on this trip. I happily floated around for a couple of hours, sipping a margarita.

Later that evening I returned with some friends from the caravan to listen to a blues and rock ‘n’ roll guitar player who surfs all day and plays music at night. Nice work if you can get it! He reminded me so much of the surfers at UC Santa Barbara that I used to know, 35 years later.

Rumors fly about the Surf Colony and the adjacent hotel on the hill, which is reminiscent of a California mission.

Some say drug money funded the development. Some say it was American money from the mortgage lending crisis, and the guy is now in prison. Whichever way you slice it, it is a bit odd to have a beautiful resort community here in the middle of nowhere. They call this location Cabo, but it is really closer to La Paz.

Today we’re off to explore the towns of El Pescadero and Todos Santos, and I’m sure I’ll get a look at that magnificent hotel on the hill when we get back.