Driving north on Highway Five from the disappointment that was Gonzaga Bay we looked for wild camping spots to spend the night. The beaches were rocky, the inland areas looked like volcanic quarries with black powdery dust and nowhere to park discreetly. We kept driving north.
It just didn’t look appealing. We passed through an abandoned checkpoint. The military checkpoints are bizarre in Baja and far more common than on the mainland where cartels are far more busy apparently than in this desert sideshow. Perhaps this is where they train the soldiers to poke around cars looking for drugs and guns. Us old fogies in our camper seem to be above suspicion. This one was an easy drive through.
We looked at the world going by in the evening sunlight and pondered our options. Villages that looked like mining shanty towns flashed by and looked as appealing as an open pit mine.
We kept seeing no reason to stop to spend the night. San Felipe was ahead thirty or forty miles and we figured we had lots more choices in the hours remaining.
The numbers of derelict trailers was startling. We had never seen so many in four months driving round Mexico. Here they are everywhere.
Layne thought she had found a place. The thirty dollar fee at Gonzaga had pissed her off and she spent a good part of the drive studying iOverlander, the inestimable app. Now she said there was a chance for a twelve dollar a night stop at an abandoned resort. Wild camping did not feel good to either of us. I was worried about sinking in the soft sand that is everywhere and Layne was not getting a good vibe from the neighborhood. It just felt off to both of us and you have to listen to that inner voice when traveling. The abandoned resort seemed like a decent possibility if it was still open.
This rough cement road was the access to Residence Betel 2 about 15 miles south of San Felipe. No chance of sinking in the sand here! We paid the caretaker lady at the gate 250 pesos for a night and she retreated to her trailer. Her three large dogs followed us to the top of the street in this weird and amazing former resort. We went down the street, leaving the dogs behind, and backed under a metal roof for shade. We were completely alone and no one spoke to us for the two days we were there! Take a look:
The caretaker's trailer at the top of the hill. Neither he nor his wife ever bothered us once during our stay.
A quick dip anyone? And a swim up bar?? All gone.
Pool house and deck:
Tons of full service RV pads -once!
Pool shower:
Looking south into the desert:
Full hook ups, once upon a time. The black things are connections for sewer lines from RVs:
Below, looking towards San Felipe the town nestled in the bay to the left of the mountains.
I managed to be a doofus backing under the steel roof. I was looking up and didn’t notice the cinder block low wall at the back…
No serious damage luckily a dent in the plastic and some scratches. Layne was mighty patient with me. As for facilities there was a trash can at the toilet building which was pretty dusty but had cold water at the showers, to flush the toilet and at the sink with a huge mirror do I could shave.
The toilets even had seats and when the time came I easily emptied our porta potty into one with no drama. Laye was not going to use these toilets! You appreciate the small things on the road and I was fine with the grunge even if it looks a bit odd to North American eyes...
Shaving station!
It was a bit of a hike from GANNET2 to the loo.
We walked around and sat in the shade and admired the colors of the very shallow very cold water blown onto the sand by a steady north wind.
San Felipe is famous for massive tides and we saw quite a retreat at low tide with lots of exposed sand.
Rusty loved it. He sat out at night in the moonlight and only came in when he couldn’t keep his eyes open. We slept with the side door open so he came and went as he pleased while we slept snug under the covers as the nights are quite cool around here.
The weirdness of the place grew on us as time went by. Can you imagine in the US being allowed to let people park in these ruins? Imagine the liability laws and fear of injury and all that nanny state restrictive stuff. This is Mexico. You are responsible for yourself and expected to figure out if it’s worth twelve bucks to you. It was to us.
A lunch of tuna wrap and red cabbage coleslaw eaten with a view. Then an afternoon nap wrapped in her burrito blanket I got her for the trip:
Early morning sunlight. Rusty wanted to cuddle so he jumped up on the bed and flopped on me.
Days of retirement. No WiFi but sometimes we had a little phone signal that went and came.
Campground guard dogs stayed at the top of the hill. Rusty handled them okay when they approached one at a time to say hi to him. 
All to ourselves!
And then Layne found a harvest host. 110 miles from the United States but firmly in Mexico, who knew? We had to plan to move on. I could have planted myself here.
