Neither of us slept much the night before the race started. Adrenaline, and anticipation sped through our heads of what the coming day would be like (possibly to many margaritas the night before also).

At first light we were both outta bed and made shitty coffee in the room. Frothing on the adventure that awaited. The Safari Class lined up first to kick off the race as it had its own course from Ensenada to El Rosario. Sunrise to line up happened in the blink of an eye and our enthusiasm to get going put us in the third spot behind the lead trucks, a fully built`93 Ford Bronco and another fully built 6th gen bronco.

The send off was mellow. Horns, waves, speed limits, and stop signs made it all somewhat anti-climactic. We meandered down HWY 1 until we turned off to dirt around Santo Tomas. The lead truck pulled off to the side and had us stop behind him. Over the radio we were instructed to “air down” and wait until the entire group lined up.

Thinking the pace was going to stay the same as it had driving down the 1 neither Alex or I were prepared for the lead Bronco to take off like a bat outta hell. Once we hit dirt shit got real and the race was on. We tried to keep up with the Broncos for the first ten miles keeping a very consistent pace around 65 - 70 mph through the twisting dirt road. Our gps calling out known rocks, severe turns, and other potential hazards. We were feeling alive, and confident keeping pace with the Broncos.

A wide open straight away presented itself and we watched the Bronco hammer down on the throttle, so I punched the skinny pedal and opened the big old girl up also. Seconds later we watched the Bronco launch off an unknown bump in the road. With no time to slow down and my foot still fully in the throttle it was our turn and we launched that 10,000lbs dodge. It was like slow motion being in the air, I looked back through the tail gate window and realized we forgot to strap the surfboards down and I watched them fly up slamming the top of the GFC topper and slam back down in the back of the truck as we landed. Alex and I both looked at each other shocked, stoked, and decided we didn’t want to break down in the first hour of the 1000 mile race. We kept pace until the next check point where we decided to hang in the back of the pack with the cool kids. Humbly falling in line to let the guys who wanted to race, race. We wanted to scope for surf spots and make it to Scorpion Bay at minimum before a major break down.

We cruised the coast line, and costal mountains of Baja scheming about coming back and camping and surfing. Unfortunately the next day news came in that a group of 3 surfers ultimately lost there lives murdered by a tweaker in that same area we drove through. We found out once our cell service reconnected with frantic messages from friends and family checking to make sure we were ok. A sobering reality check that evil exists everywhere. We certainly didn’t experience it though.

After pulling into our digs for the night we ate delicious food, drank blackbirds, and told stories of the day. We watched everyone fix their Broncos, Raptors, a Tundra, and an Ineos Grenadier. During our rough touch down we lost the cap to the power steering fluid reservoir. A plastic bag, rag, and zip tie was our quick fix which remained for the rest of the trip. The comradery was infectious and the personalities were wild. It was an amazing start to a great week of driving. Ensenada to El Rosario was checked off and day one was done.

Help support Favorite Pastime and get yourself a Safari Class Racing T-Shirt or hat. Come drive with us next year.

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