Full Belly Files | Both Sides of Baja California, Part One

Seven of the eight of us on the Cabo trip get our arch portrait thanks to Roger Seabreeze.

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My month of March was bookended by trips to Baja California.

The first, for a magazine assignment, involved me driving my increasingly old — and briefly broken down; more on that next week! — Ford F-150 from Santa Barbara across the Tijuana border to Valle de Guadalupe, where I spent three appointment-packed days being properly introduced to Mexico’s top wine region.

The second was for my family’s spring break trip to Cabo San Lucas, where we went with another family who are our very close friends in search of sun, fun, relaxation, and relative affordability. We found plenty of the sun and the fun, but our relaxation was interrupted regularly by food poisonings, jellyfish stings, lifeguard rescues, car crashes, and hawker headaches. As for affordability, we got a decent deal on a swell spot, but everything else in Cabo is not cheap at all.

Rather quickly, we came to see Cabo San Lucas — at least the central zone around the marina, downtown, and Medano Beach — as a poster child for global tourism gone wrong. As even my (admittedly well traveled) teenage kids observed, “There’s no culture here.”

No doubt, there must be many ways to enjoy the greater Los Cabos in more focused ways: spending the big bucks to experience the luxuries of a high-end, all-you-need resort; going deep on the fishing and/or the golfing; or, at the right age, which must roughly be 18 to 24, getting properly smashed, dancing the night away, and hooking up at the bumping clubs.

But the rampant overdevelopment, constant flow of cruise ships, and mutually destructive exploitation flowing every which way is not exactly a model of sustainable tourism. I knew that might be the case when we booked the trip — I’d been to Cabo twice before, more than 30 and then again 16 years ago. But this sense of overblown tourism was more pervasive than what I remembered, and much more blatant than what I’ve seen in my travels across Mexico and other tourist hotspots around the world.

And yet, due to our convivial spirit, tight friendships, and respectable ability to immensely enjoy ourselves — perhaps even in a bomb shelter though certainly during the recent pandemic — we persevered in relishing in a rather memorable spring break.

Terrasol’s palapa sold decent eats and cocktails.

Our homebase was a four-bedroom, oceanview spot at Terrasol, the Tatooine-esque collection of sand colored condos right at the tip of the cape. We had two pools, a palapa that served decently prepared and priced food and drinks, and beachfront status, though don’t even think about approaching the thunderous waves on the shoreline. We cooked some shrimp tacos at home that first night, and another night ordered delivery from Wicked Pizza, whose tasty slices filled the gaps for the rest of the trip.

The marina was a three-minute walk away, where we enjoyed a solid dinner at Solomon’s Landing — my seafood enchiladas and the mango margaritas were on point — and then a not-as-great but still festive dinner at Baja Cantina a few nights later.

Though originally from Tijuana more than 750 miles to the north, the Caesar salad prepared tableside was a steady and reliably satisfying affair in Cabo. But I failed to discern any actual homegrown regional specialties, unless we can count aguachiles and presumably fresh fish dishes of all sorts.

Seafood enchiladas at Solomon’s Landing was a top meal of my trip.
Caesar salad, though invented nearly 1,000 miles north in Tijuana, is everywhere in Cabo, often prepared tableside.

It’s also from the marina that we embarked on our grandest adventure: a boat trip with RogerSeabreeze that included humpback whales, a mako shark, and periscoping dolphins. We were supposed to snorkel too, but when our sick, reportedly light-headed son — who’d stayed at the condo due to stomach issues caused almost certainly by a chili-laced fruit cup on Medano Beach the day before — stopped responding to all texts and phone calls, we had to head home a tad early. Roger and his son Otto were both gems throughout, even suggesting they might take us back out snorkeling later that week if we wanted.

From left: Double humps on mom and daughter humpbacks; Humpback tail + massive cruise ship = Cabo.
From left: Double humps on mom and daughter humpbacks; Humpback tail + massive cruise ship = Cabo.

Duck tacos by the Sandbar on Medano Beach.

Our son was, thankfully, not dead, but had fallen asleep on the balcony in between bathroom sessions. We sternly instructed him on the importance of responding to messages when ill and your parents are far away on a small boat, and then got our own crash course in buying the right drugs from one of the dozens — possibly more than a hundred? — pharmacies located within a one-mile radius.

Questionable beach mango cup aside, Medano Beach was also our introduction to the constant sales techniques of the wandering Cabo locals, who are at least friendly in their annoying persistence. Medano is also where one of the girls got a minor but still slightly shocking streak of jellyfish stings after hours of splashing in the waves. The duck tacos I ordered at The Sand Bar were decent enough, though watching people get boob-smacked while slamming Jell-o shots was even more entertaining.

The car crash was thankfully not our own, just one that us dads witnessed about 50 yards away while getting groceries one morning. I saw it all happen — “Hey, watch this,” I muttered as the collision occurred — and suggested we leave the scene, though my buddy went to make sure the drivers were alive. They were, and then we left, treating each intersection with extra caution going forward.

The poke bowl at Mejibo in Todos Santos was possibly my favorite bite of the trip.

That said, other than struggling to find a proper grocery store in our immediate area and some traffic jams at mindlessly ineffective stoplights, driving otherwise was quite easy and the rental cars were cheap. We headed up the coast one day to check out Todos Santos, and shared a quality lunch at Mejibo before settling into the sands at Playa Los Cerritos, where the bodysurfing was prime.

We quenched our snorkeling thirst one morning at Bahia Santa Maria, where the fish were prevalent and visibility surprisingly decent, despite the rather surging bay surf. Those surges — paired with boats coming in and out and tourists who didn’t seem to know how to swim — made for exciting people watching. But then one of our own got a bit stuck outside in a bigger swell. She would have probably been fine with some patience, but a friendly lifeguard jumped in and made sure all was well.

For dinner on our last night, our plans to go to Edith’s and other nicer places were thwarted by our lack of making reservations in advance, especially for a party of eight. We were advised to book reservations at The Office, and that’s where we found ourselves on the sands of Medano Beach again — the hawkers in full display just outside the fence and the mind-numbing bumping of the Mango Deck next door making conversation a bit impossible.

We powered through, taking down more aguachile, guacamole, combo plates, seared ahi, fish tacos, and many margaritas, making it back to Terrasol in time to nearly finish off our tequila and beers. Suntans were solidified by then, and spring break was in the books.

Next week, I’ll tell you a bit about my trip to Valle de Guadalupe. It too comes with its own bit of drama, but it’s at least a place that I can highly recommend putting on your to-do-travel list.

As for Cabo? I’d certainly return to check out Todos Santos again, or stay in a fancy resort if someone else is paying. But, until then — been there, done that, and we’re good.