Three days earlier we had crossed the international border at Mexicali. We headed south with the tentative plan to follow the coastal routes as far as San Francisquito, about 400 miles south of the border on the Sea of Cortez side. The odometer showed 700-plus miles as the day's last light faded and the lights of San Felipe came in to view. Our reward for the long haul was heaping plates of tacos de pescado (fish tacos) and a few rounds of cold Corona. Cell phones, Blackberries, and the hassles of everyday life were stuffed in the console when we crossed the border, and we were slowly slipping into the maana mode.
Maana is the frame of mind in which one forgets all the trivial crap we deem important. Bills, deadlines, e-mail-all gone. Job problems, traffic, and TV, forgot about 'em. In maana mode, you focus on the important things: When does the sun rise and set, is the cerveza cold, do we have enough fuel, what two-track to explore today, and again, is the cerveza cold? An adventure in Baja is vastly different from a leisurely jaunt across the desert southwest. Baja is the kind of place that teaches you-you don't teach it. It wants you to be there, to feel the energy and tranquility, the warmth of its solar orb, and the cool of its blue waters. When accepted, it absorbs you, you become one with it, and through osmosis, its culture, language, and surreal aura permeates your soul. This is when you know you have achieved maana.
San Felipe was our last place to stock up on necessities. With full tanks, fresh tortillas, a bottle of our favorite locally distilled tequila, and a couple kilos of shrimp, we headed south to set up camp near the edge of the Sea of Cortez. Illuminated by the light of a billion stars, gentle waves lapped at the sand and a light breeze brought a slight chill to the air. Our bellies full from our gluttony of fish tacos and beer, we swapped lies about adventures gone by, tossed back a few coldies, and hit the sack in anticipation of our next seven days. Drift into a southern latitude maana with us as you flip through these pages of our Two Week Taco Baja Bash.
 Any guesses as to what's sold...  Any guesses as to what's sold here? There are a few must-stop places in Baja, and the Corona six-pack mercado (market) on Mex-5 south of Mexicali is one of them. |  Now this is what we're talking...  Now this is what we're talking about: the open road, clear skies, no traffic, and a sandy two-track with no end in sight. With only one paved road available for north-south traffic, dirt tracks such as this one, known as Baja highways, are the main routes of transportation in much of the Baja Peninsula. |  Blazing down a section of...  Blazing down a section of the Baja 1000 course near Alfonsina's Cantina, we were overtaken by the urge to kick it down a gear and stand on the skinny peddle. The sun set over the Sierra San Pedro Martir Mountains as we high-tailed it for a sandy camp near Punta Final. |
 In our quest to avoid the...  In our quest to avoid the road most traveled, we veered south into an arroyo (canyon) on a faint trail east of Punta Final. Following a rocky two-track left over from Baja's gold mining era, the tranquil azul waters of the Sea of Cortez provided a beautiful backdrop as we ascended the northern reaches of the Sierra De La Asamblea Montana. |  Descending into Arroyo Calamejue,...  Descending into Arroyo Calamejue, the mountains converged from the east and west, and the canyon walls rose to near vertical. In the distance of a half mile, the gray desertscape turned to a tropical marsh, lush vegetation covering the canyon floor. |  When you come to a fork in...  When you come to a fork in the road, take it. East of Coco's Corner, a nondescript turnout lead us through the barren desertscape towards Calamejue Canyon. We pushed the limits of our new Donahoe Racing coilovers, and bounced south across several miles of whoop-de-doos. |