crossing the mexican border into baja

Dates: December 8, 2022 - December 13, 2022
Distance: 196 mi / 315 km
Route: Calexico > San Felipe > Puertecitos > Rancho Grande

For the past few years, as we’ve mingled more with fellow travelers in the “overlanding” space, there is one topic that has come up time and time again: the Baja peninsula. From what we could gather, Baja was this magical place—a paradise of sorts for people who travel via adventure vehicles. Beach camping, an endless supply of fish tacos, and warm temperatures beckon our like-minded friends with the promise of stellar suntans and good times on the many beaches–and inland camping–the peninsula has to offer.

When deciding whether we would enter Mexico via Baja or mainland, the choice was easy. Not only did we want to experience the many delights that Baja boasted, but we had also heard that the peninsula serves as a good introduction to Mexico. With many expats living in Baja, the many tourist destination towns, and ease of navigating the area with little to no Spanish proficiency, Baja was something of a Mexico Lite, if you will; and the time had finally come for us to dip our toes in the cultural waters of Mexico.

Crossing the Border

We slept minutes from the border in a Walmart parking lot in a town confusingly called Calexico. The name wouldn’t be so confusing if the town on the other side of the border weren’t inversely named: Mexicali. To this day, I struggle to remember which is which, but I suppose it’s a moo point, like a cow’s opinion–it’s just moo.*

*Inside joke with my family and the millions of Friends fans across the globe.

We found our way to the correct line for gringos crossing into Mexico. As we approached the border officers, one of them motioned for us to pull into a parking spot on the side. After hearing about our friends getting thoroughly searched at the border for 90 minutes, our hopes of simply being waved through to the other side without a search were immediately denied.

The border officer realized quickly that our Spanish was more or less inadequate, so in English, he asked us to open up the camper. He proceeded to search our little home on wheels with Mike overseeing the process, while the young woman officer who spoke very little English motioned for me to get out of the truck and to bring the dog with me so she could search the cab.

Note: On multiple occasions, border officers and soldiers have shown visible trepidation when seeing Granger, a strange (to them) dog who they didn’t trust. ¿No muerde? meaning it doesn’t bite? was a new phrase I learned in one of these instances.

They searched the cabinets, drawers, backpacks, disassembled our hand-held VSSL coffee grinder to check inside of it, and stumbled upon the device I use to aim my pee into a bottle while standing, which I keep in a plastic bag in one of our drawers. It took all of ten minutes for them to get a fairly intimate peek into our lives and send us on our way.

Obtaining our Tourist Visas (FMMs)

Obtaining our tourist visas, or Multiple Immigration Forms (FMMs), was the next step in the border process. We parked the truck and headed into an empty building nearby. Mike rang the bell on the shiny white counter and soon a woman magically appeared from somewhere else.

“Hola, we’d like to get our FMMs, por favor.”
“Ok, where in Mexico are you planning to go?
“um... everywhere.”
“Ok, but specifically?”
“Well, Baja California Sur, Mazatlán, Puerto Vallarta, Mexico City, Oaxaca…”

This severely incomplete list of the few names of places that we could remember seemed to be enough to appease the woman helping us. She indicated where we should write this list on the forms that she proceeded to hand us.

“And you’re driving?”
“Yes, hopefully all the way to Argentina.”

With raised eyebrows, she continued processing our forms. “I’m going to Argentina and Chile in February,” she told us with a smile and the conversation suddenly shifted from a cool tone of formality to something warmer. In the end, she handed us our processed FMMs, stamped our passports, granting us 180 days in the country, and insisted that we “be careful.”

Temporary Import Permit (TIP) for the Truck

The next and final step was to get our Temporary Import Permit (TIP) to allow us to drive the truck into Mexico. Up until this point, it had been smooth sailing checking off the various requirements to cross the border, but that was about to change.

Situated in a small strip mall of specialized offices, the TIP-issuing office was much more compact than the one we had just left. After showing our relevant paperwork to the woman behind the counter (truck title, registration, passport, etc.), she informed us that our truck was too heavy (rude), and that we would need to go to a different office across the way to get special authorization for the excess weight.

The folks at the “special-authorization office” didn’t seem to understand why we were sent there. Since we didn’t fully understand either, we struggled to clarify it for them. After looking at our forms for a few minutes and still unable to crack the puzzle, the woman called the TIP office and apparently cleared up the confusion. We were then told that the person who would need to grant the special authorization wasn’t in yet. “He should be in at 8:00” (it was 7:30am).

Waiting semi-patiently for Señor Special-Authorization to show up for work, Mike went back into the TIP office to confirm that they weren’t mistaken about our weight being too heavy. Indeed, they were not mistaken. And finally we understood that the issue wasn’t the overall weight of our rig, but it was that our Gross Vehicle Weight Rating, or GVWR, was higher than what they typically allow for a regular truck. Had our vehicle been registered as an RV (which is what some folks do) or if the GVWR (which is the maximum amount of weight that the truck can handle safely, including its payload capacity) was below the required limit of 3.5 tons (7000 lbs.), then there would have been no issue (our GVWR is over 11,000 lbs). From what we’ve read, this only poses a problem for people at the Mexican borders. Other countries throughout Central and South America don’t really believe in fat-shaming heavy-duty vehicles.

Thankfully Señor Special-Authorization showed up to work on time, gave us our special stamp in exchange for 9000 pesos ($462 USD), and sent us on our way. In the end, the whole process took less than two hours and really wasn’t bad at all.

Driving along the fun side of the “trump wall,” a double yellow line suddenly appeared on the wrong side of the truck. But according to moving traffic, we were not headed for oncoming traffic. It was very confusing.

Finally in Baja

Our first week in Baja served as quite a reprieve from the back-to-back long driving days of our indirect journey from Ohio to the Mexican border. Now that we had arrived, we needed to learn how to slow down and take it all in. For us, that meant staying at each of our first few campsites for two nights rather than only a single night–not exactly a slow pace, but it was progress.

San Felipe

KiKi’s RV Park on the beach in San Felipe was our first stop in Baja. During the two days we spent here, I slept through most of the days warped with fatigue, Granger let loose on the beach thirty feet from our campsite, and Mike walked into town for tacos for most lunches and dinners.

Coincidentally on the second day, Mike’s birthday, he was able to meet up with our friends Logan and Tara in town and they treated him to lunch. Other than that, his birthday passed relatively unceremoniously. (Don’t worry though, we have plans to make up for it with a cooking class sometime on the mainland!)

Puertecitos

Puertecitos was our next stop, and apparently it’s the hottest spot in Baja for adventure cats. When we arrived, there was a couple in a van and two families in RVs, and between us all there were seven cats. A couple of them roamed freely on the beach exploring the area, another walked happily on a leash, there were three adorable kittens romping around in the sand, and then there was Walker, plopped on the floor of the Scout, lazily watching the excitement from a distance and the comfort of his home. “Camper cat” might be a more accurate designation for him than “adventure cat.”

Waking up on this quiet beach with the breeze jostling the palm tree fronds outside our window and the gentle waves lapping steadily, we began to feel ourselves unwind and relax. Our travels don’t usually feel like vacation, but Baja was beginning to change that.

Rancho Grande

It wasn’t until our third campsite that we camped alongside folks who were actually from Mexico. In Rancho Grande, our young camp neighbors, Pablo and Hector, were visiting from Ensenada and thoroughly enjoying themselves watching the waves and playing soccer in the sand. Further down the beach, Mike met a couple from Mexico City who were camping with one of their mothers who lives in San Diego. The grandmother generously shared her mezcal with Mike while they all chatted for a bit, and promised to save me some as well. Unfortunately, I wasn’t feeling well enough to take her up on her offer, nor am I currently imbibing, but I still appreciated the thought.

The next morning, sitting outside enjoying our morning coffee and tea, we suddenly realized that Christmas was fast approaching, and we had yet to do any of our shopping for our families. Thanks to the internet, and volunteer gift wrappers back at home, all we needed was wifi. Later that day, we drove out to the tienda (store) down the road where we had previously registered for camping. Fifteen pesos, or 75 cents, would grant us 30 minutes of WiFi access on a single device to do some online shopping and check in with family. 90 pesos later, our shopping was complete and our parents were duly notified of our continued well-being.

In the midst of our shopping, two military trucks loaded with a dozen or more soldiers in full fatigues pulled into the lot and parked next to our rig. They all hopped out, sporting their desert camouflage and bracing their AK47s. A few walked right up to the rig to check it out, while a couple of them headed into the tienda.

As it turned out, we weren’t the only ones loitering here for the wifi. While most of the soldiers stood guard around the trucks, looking unnecessarily serious, it appeared that the man in charge had made them all stop here so he could connect to the internet and call his significant other. As we shopped away for our nieces and nephews, he sat nearby whispering sweet nothings in Spanish to whomever was on the other end of the line, with no apparent concern for holding up the rest of the group. It was a perfect display of the lengths people will go to connect with the people they love; it reminded me of all the times I, too, have jumped through hoops to hear the voice of someone I loved and missed while traveling in foreign countries without a functional cell phone, though perhaps in somewhat less dramatic circumstances.

Oh, to be a commanding soldier in love.