Posted on July 20, 2025
Guadalupe Canyon Hot Springs – Jan 2025
Our goal for 2025 is to take a trip each month.
I mentioned this to my friend John while visiting him at his home (he and his family manage and live on the site of a moderately famous tourist attraction, the Desert View Tower, outside of Jacumba, CA. Not entirely relevant but cool!). He informed me that he’s planning a January trip to Canyon De Guadalupe, and invited me to come along. What he meant by this, of course, was “Will you take me to Cañon De Guadalupe?”
I happily agreed to “join” him.
John had been the first to tell me of the area last year. He described it as a secret canyon paradise known to few, and which required a long and difficult journey to reach. Based on his description, I had understood the canyon to be a remote backcountry destination only reachable via trekking on foot through the Mexican desert. It was only after researching the destination in preparation of our trip that I realized the canyon was not only easily accessible by car, but was a private (and expensive) campground where each site featured its own pristine hot tub!
The Journey In
Early on Saturday morning, Emma and I ventured to the In-Ko-Pah Mountains to retrieve John. We briefly chatted with his neighbor Mark, a hot spring aficionado, who relayed all he knew about our destination and even recommended an additional undeveloped hot spring in a neighboring canyon. We loaded up with water and firewood and hurried out to make the most of the short January day.
Guadalupe Canyon is actually located in the same mountain range as John’s home which made the journey appear on a map as though it would be relatively short. Unfortunately, however, we had to contend with our country’s stringent enforcement of its southern border and cross at an official port of entry. This would force us to travel east, out of the mountains and wait in blocks of traffic to cross into Mexico via Mexicali.
As we arrived in Calexico, we were greeted with a mile-long line of cars waiting to cross into Mexico! (Typically the fabled hours-long delay is only to cross back into the United States) We quickly exchanged some cash for pesos at a small booth on the side of the road and finagled ourselves into the line. We arrived into Mexicali far later than expected, so we wasted no time after crossing and found the nearest grocery store, Smart & Final, to stock up on some Mexican delicacies. It turns out, however, that Mexican Smart & Final sells mostly the same American-style produce sold in the US. Seeking some more authentic flavors for our trip, we instead turned to Soriana, a vast Mexican supermarket that seemingly would have everything that we could possibly need. This, incredibly, turned out also not to be the case as they sold no fresh salsas or marinated carne asada which loomed large on our grocery list. Perhaps we are too accustomed to a more Americanized idea of Mexican grocery staples after all.
As Emma and I deliberated on the best pan dulce and fresh tortillas to bring along, John guarded supplies, some of which was precariously strapped to a rusted rack mounted on the back of my truck. Once we finished with our grocery shopping, we returned to find him deep in conversation with the store’s parking attendant who had recommended a nearby restaurant serving John’s favorite food, birria de chivo (goat tacos).
Despite the short days of January and our already late start, we still chose to enjoy a leisurely lunch which we washed down with caguamas of Tecate. In broken Spanish, I asked if the restaurant-branded T-shirt displayed on the back of a chair was for sale. It was not.
Once full of tacos, we returned to the car and began our long journey towards our desert paradise. The city became farmland and cattle lots as we moved west on the highway. We made one final stop at a gas station so John could restock his cigarette supply and then descended through fascinating duo-toned mountains towards the desert floor. Ahead of us lies the Laguna Salada, an enormous expanse of pristine tan sand, formerly a long and shallow lake which can still make brief appearances after large rains.
Once past the dry lakebed, we arrived at a large highway sign with an arrow pointing south towards the desert. “Cañon De Guadalupe”, the sign read.
“So much for secret” John exclaimed from the back seat.
We turned onto an extremely rutted, yet still techinically paved road that ran between the lakebed on our left and the southern peninsular neighbors of the In-Ko-Pah Mountains on our right. Sections of the road were severely washed out which left dangerous cliffs several feet tall; many were invisible until our vehicle was just a few feet away. This portion of the journey required careful attention – gaze too long at the beautiful, jagged mountains and your vehicle could easily end up at the bottom of one of these concealed ditches.
The paved portion quickly ended and we found ourselves on a typical washboarded desert dirt road. The vast flat valley was dotted with large bushes of creosote and mesquite, but became more scarce as we delved deeper into the desert. We passed a few groups of off-roaders riding ATVs but overall felt confident that we would not have too much company at the hot springs.
The unpaved portion of the road is long, and took several hours of slow, monotonous driving to cross. I was evidently excited to begin soaking in the tub, and was driving a bit faster than one probably should on a bumpy dirt road while hauling a truckload of heavy supplies. A well-timed peek in the rear-view mirror revealed our large plastic bin completing a perfect somersault off of the back-rack and crashing into the sandy road. I slammed down the brakes, and a cloud of dust enveloped us as we drifted to a stop. We all jumped out together to collect our dusty belongings. The contents of our bin, which included all of our cooking supplies and various other camping necessities, were strewn across a 200 ft radius on the road. Unfortunately, I did not have a chance to take any photos of the wreckage as a caravan of fellow American tourists quickly caught up to us, also on-route to the hot springs.
They pulled over and even helped us to gather our things. The driver remarked to me “when you passed us an hour ago we thought that rack didn’t look all too secure, we should’ve tried to tell you!”
…good to know.
He warned me that the road continued as a sandy washboard until the last mile or so, where the desert floor ended and you reached the base of the mountains. The journey from there becomes rocky and a bit more technical. I heeded his warning, re-strapped the bins to the rack with extra care, love, and attention, and continued on at a more reasonable speed.
We came to a crossroads where there stood three distinct signs, which all simultaneously indicated that the canyon was to our right. We followed their excessive instructions and continued on the road into the mountains. The terrain quickly changed from the vast and barren landscape we had grown familiar with. Large rock outcroppings quickly surrounded us, dimpled with hundreds of deep horizontal slits carved by millennia of fast desert winds. The vegetation grew more dense as we entered the mouth of the canyon, with large thickets of Cholla cactus surrounding tall bushes of Palo Verde, Mesquite, and the endemic-to-Baja Elephant Tree.
We were soon cast in shadow as the sun hid behind the prominent peak overlooking the canyon, Cerro de la Virgen. In the distance, we caught our first glimpses at the palm tree oasis where our campsite was waiting for us. We crossed a shallow but rocky creek, and entered into the thick forest of palm trees. After our long journey, we had finally arrived.
The Campsite
John had visited the area once before a few years back and took the time on that trip to scout out the campground in search of the best sites to stay at on his next visit. With that knowledge, he chose for us a site called La Zorra (The Fox). I was initially nervous after we arrived due to our site’s close proximity to the restrooms and common areas. Luckily, this turned out to be a complete non-issue due to the respectfulness of the other campers (and perhaps the very strict “no music” and “no loud talking” policy). A wall constructed from dried palm fronds and bamboo sticks also provided excellent privacy from other campers and allowed for a feeling of total solitude. Our site included a palapa, also made from palm fronds, a table, a grill, a fire pit (conveniently shaped rock), and most importantly, our personal hot spring.
We quickly unpacked our supplies, put up our tents, and set out to take advantage of the last glints of sunlight and explore the nearby area.
The Canyon
We followed the small trickle of water leaking from our hot spring towards the bottom of the canyon. This brought us to a large granite creek bed, a band of slippery light-gray stone which contrasted against the sandy brown desert a few feet away. We hiked towards a small lagoon contained in the pale rock, filled with brilliant teal water. We splashed a hand in the frigid water and decided to save our swimming for the hot pools.
After a few minutes of appreciating the incredible beauty of the canyon, we climbed back up the steep canyon to finally participate in the true reason for our travels.
The Hot Spring
Even if Guadalupe Canyon featured no perfectly-heated pools of thermal water, it would still be absolutely worth a visit. The scenery was similar in grandeur to fantastic places in the Sierras that receive magnitudes more visitors. The campground is surrounded by prominent craggy peaks, each separated by narrow canyons lined with walls of granite. I would have been content having spent our weekend exploring the twists and turns of the creek that supplied the water to the hot springs. If we had followed the creek to its source, we would arrive at the Laguna Hanson, a scenic lake in the mountains above.
Days could also be spent exploring the many washes which led out of the canyon toward the Laguna Salada, taking notice of the changes in flora as you descend in elevation; the palm oasis turns into a forest of cactus and elephant trees, which quickly thins as your view expands to see the full desert floor dotted with bushes of creosote and mesquite. For the very observant, (not us) ancient petroglyphs can be found blending in with the deep-red patina that stains many of the canyon’s boulders. There is no question that Canyon de Guadalupe is special despite the promise of hot springs, but they are certainly the main draw for a reason.
We returned to our campsite after our sunset exploration and quickly changed into swimwear. Hidden by large boulders and dense palm trees was our destination – a shallow concrete tub filled with steaming teal water, fed by a trickling hose which connected our tub to the spring’s source.
We spent hours that night soaking in the mineral-rich water. Outside, the temperatures were fairly cold, but that did not bother us as we were insulated by the endless stream of warm water rising from the ground and filling our oasis. We quietly recovered from our long journey, until our stomachs reminded us that we should not prolong a meal any longer. We threw together a simple dinner, adobada tacos, on the fire and ate quickly so that we could return to the warmth of the pool. Soon, we were back in our private paradise and enjoyed some conversation facilitated with far too many beers.
A few days before the trip, I had the fantastic idea to purchase submersible pool lights. I would recommend them to anyone traveling to these hot springs or perhaps to any hot spring where you anticipate privacy, as they created a truly unbeatable vibe.
After spending over 5 hours soaking in the tub, we stumbled into our tents for the night.
The Campground
The next morning, we brewed mugs of poorly dissolved instant coffee and set off to casually explore the surrounding area. There was still total quiet in the canyon, and it felt imperative that we not create any disruptions to the serenity.
The entirety of the campground was meticulously maintained and was completely free of trash; the ground of the campsites and common areas were decorated with thousands of short slash marks from being constantly raked by the on-site staff. We even saw an employee carrying a large bucket and bowl throughout the property, using it to splash water onto the ground to prevent dust from kicking up.
The bathrooms, despite appearing rudimentary from the outside, had flush toilets and were far nicer than anticipated (no toilet paper provided). We did not spend too much time in the common areas of the campground, although I noticed that there were several public pools available in addition to our private tub such as mud pools (we were not brave enough to enter as it gave off major Shrek-vibes) and large cool-water swimming pools (empty during our visit, perhaps they are only filled in the warmer months).
Nestled into the back walls of the canyon were a few abandoned sites, as well as the larger sites that could likely accommodate 8-10 people. What appeared to be the largest site was marked by a dead tree ornamented with empty bottles of alcohol. Obviously, we stopped in for a photo.
As the developed portion of the canyon came to an end, we came to a sandy pathway leading into the creek bed and a hand-painted sign that read “Cascadas ->.” We decided to extend this impromptu exploration just a bit further.
Hike To Waterfalls
Coffees in hand and sandals on foot, we were not prepared for a hike. Nonetheless, we chose to venture further up the canyon to see what laid ahead. We traversed the bright granite and headed towards the towering mountains to the west. There was no trail or straightforward path out of the low-point of the canyon, and we scraped against countless cholla cactus as we slowly advanced. At the bottom of the canyon, the palms were ever-present and separated the tamarisk and other less-invasive shrubs that crowded the banks of the many lagoons. Cholla and other desert flora typical of the region dotted the mountains above us.
The palm thickets grew less dense as we followed the weak flow of water upwards, though we came across occasional groupings of them kept in place by dense pads of tangled roots. One of the many ponds we encountered was framed by a thick palm root-pad hanging over the brown-tinged water.
We moved slowly, stopping often to admire the numerous stunning features surrounding us. The trickling creek pulled on long strands of brilliant green algae clinging to the rocks, creating interesting swirls reminiscent of a Van Gogh painting.
At one point we came across an injured fan palm; it featured a large semicircular gash that looked as if a giant monster had taken a bite of it. The depression was so deep that it seemed impossible that the tree could continue to grow and appear completely healthy, though it appeared to live on without issue.
We finally arrived at our stopping point; our feet sank into the fine gravel of a small beach as we admired the clear pool of water before us, enclosed in high walls of sheer granite. The unmistakable roar of rushing water slashed through the silence, though the canyon walls which held the snaking lagoon prevented any view of the sound’s source. There was no path forward – none that could be reached in our casual footwear at least. We reluctantly turned back towards the mouth of the canyon, the sun already peeking over the mountains enough to brightly illuminate the forest of palms which obscured our campground.
On our scramble back, we looked up the canyon and noticed a boulder marked with a white, spray-painted arrow. Intrigued, we climbed up to it and discovered that this arrow was not alone – there were tens of them marking every minor twist and turn of an apparent trail leading in and out of the canyon. It seemed that our tedious boulder scramble was a bit unnecessary, yet was still well worth it. We now followed the relatively simple path marked by the many arrows through the boulders and back towards our campsite.
We arrived back to our site, the sun already high above our heads and warm on our skin, a stark contrast to the chilly morning we spent in the well-insulated canyon. The pools below our campsite sparkled stunning blue in the sun, the color almost unnatural in its vibrance. We prepared and devoured a healthy portion of breakfast tacos before a mandatory morning soak in the hot tub. Sufficiently warmed and relaxed, we decided to return to the waterfall we had hiked to earlier in the morning to see if there was enough sun penetrating past the tall granite to provide us with enough warmth for a brisk swim.
Hike To Waterfalls II
We took a quick detour on the main road back to the crossroads that separated the two independent campgrounds that share the hot springs in Guadalupe Canyon. We wanted to take a quick look at the other campground as information online proved to be relatively scarce. I must note, however, that there is a rumored feud between the two campground proprietors who supposedly are brothers who each inherited a portion of the canyon from their father, the original owner of the area. I have not taken the time to do extensive research into the topic but we were warned by our campground host not to stray onto the other campground’s property, because “that guy is an ass”.
This confused me as no campgrounds that I have visited go out of their way to restrict the public’s access, especially on foot. We decided to check it out for ourselves. Upon arrival to the entrance of the competing campground, however, our host’s warning was confirmed by a large gate with a small sign to call a phone number to confirm a booked reservation in order for the staff to come down and unlock the entrance. Seems lame, I’ll stick to our campground for future visits. We returned to our original goal of finding the waterfall hidden in the canyon above.
Equipped with an exceedingly well-marked trail, the sun’s brightness, and more appropriate footwear, we quickly found ourselves looking down at the narrow pools where we had previously been forced to turn back. We slid down a steep, crumbling wall of rock down to the large snaking lagoon. The high afternoon sun irradiated the bright green water and the moss and algae growing below the surface. I knelt to test the temperature of the water, dipped my fingers into the pond and immediately tensed from the cold. Even in the comfortable warmth from the sun, this would be a punishing swim.
John wasted no time to insulate himself from the freezing water; he reached into his bag to retrieve a small Nalgene bottle filled to the brim with tequila, dropped to one knee, and imbibed. Filled with liquid warmth and confidence, he scrambled back up the steep crumbling slope to the upper portion of the canyon from which we had just descended and disappeared into the boulders.
After enough time passed for pangs of nervousness to creep into my mind, John re-emerged at the top of the cliffs. He carefully descended the steep granite cliff towards a narrow shelf in the rock fifteen feet above the water. His path seemed extremely precarious from my vantage point, and I was certainly nervous as I watched him slowly climb down.
Once comfortably on the ledge, he threw the lighter that he forgot in his pocket towards the shore, it landed into the rocks beside us. He wasted no more time and plunged into the glassy water. Immediately after he was fully submerged, John erupted to the surface and thrashed quickly towards land. Once in shallow water, he jumped up and skipped from rock to rock towards the warmth of the sun. He exclaimed that his skin burned from the frigid water. His skin was bright pink!
Naturally, within 90 seconds he had climbed back up to repeat the jump, and beckoned for me to come along. I followed him back up the wall and he showed me his route – it involved scrambling up tall granite walls to get to the other side of the canyon and then descending via narrow footholds which offered little protection should you misstep. I decided to avoid a potential helicopter ride to the nearest hospital and returned instead to watch his jump from the safety of the water’s edge.
As we waited for John to return to his perch, Emma inched her way further into the water, hesitantly preparing to take a dip. Without the luxury of an easily accessible rock to jump from, she had no other option but to slowly immerse herself in the water. After a few minutes of consolidating mental fortification, she squatted down and plunged into the shallow pond. She took special care to dunk her head under the water, as she loves the effect that swimming in fresh water has on her hair, Within less than a second of submerging her head, she shot back up gasping for air.
John repeated his journey down to the ledge, and crashed back into the cold water which he found even less tolerable than after his first jump. I also now ventured into the frigid water; I allowed myself to fall backwards into the lagoon, submerged my body and kicked backwards off of the mossy rocks to propel myself towards the deeper center of the pool. The cold felt as though it was forcing my bones to contract, and I ached with pain throughout my body as I scrambled back towards dry land.
Despite John’s multiple trips over the rocks, he was still yet to see the waterfall which created the relentless roar emanating from deeper in the granite slot. Determined to lay eyes on it, he plunged back into the water and swam freestyle around the corner out of our view. Emma and I sat in the warm glow of the sun and waited for him to return. After a few minutes, we called out to him. This was pointless, however, as we were certainly not audible to him over the roar of the waterfall. After a few more minutes, my anxiety got the better of me, and I decided to swim out and ensure that there were no issues.
Obviously, everything was fine and John was simply taking in the beauty of the waterfall. Unfortunately, in my haste I did not think to bring my camera so you will have to take my word that it was stunning. The water cascaded vertically down the smooth granite into its own small pool, separated from the remainder of the lagoon by a protruding rock. We took turns sitting under the waterfall and feeling the heavy force of rushing water against our heads. Not wanting Emma to think that we were now both lost, we jumped from the protruding rock back into the cold lagoon and hurried back to shore.
After taking a few minutes to try and warm our cold bones with the lukewarm remnants of sunlight still reaching the canyon floor, we climbed the steep embankment back towards the trail which continued to follow the creek deeper into the mountains. The sun was now perfectly aligned with the “Cerro de la Virgen” as it set, casting a massive shadow in the center of the canyon.
Dusk neared as we approached the second waterfall; we arrived with just enough time to quickly admire the small trickle of water flowing into a lagoon similar to the previous waterfall. With little time to spare before nightfall, we retreated towards the safety of our heated pool. After navigating back through the red rocks and sharp chollas, we arrived back at our campsite just as the last hues of sunset dissipated from the skyline.
Our second night of camping consisted of more soaking in our glorious tub, games of rummy, tacos cooked over the campfire, and lots of beer. After a polite-but-firm reminder of the campground’s quiet hours by the host, we lumbered towards our respective tents for some well-earned rest.
The Journey Home
We alI rose early the next morning. Emma and I felt surprisingly well rested and unaffected by last night’s decisions. John, however, (this man can really put away Tecates) was not feeling his best. Luckily, John’s a trooper and we quickly cleaned up our camp to begin the long journey home. We said our goodbyes to our wonderful campsite, and our wonderful hot tub, and headed back out on the bumpy dirt road towards the hot desert.
We passed large posts which designated old cattle ranches and failed orchards. We admired the towering mountains in which we just spent our weekend. Without the promise of a hot tub at our current destination, the dusty road felt especially long and mundane.
On a particularly empty stretch, we noticed some hazy objects standing in the road. As we tumbled closer, we found them to be a small family of wild burros enjoying a meal of brown, dead-looking shrubbery. Being a desert dweller himself, John seemed to feel a kinship with the ungulates and understood how unsatisfactory their meal selection could be. He reached into our snack sack and retrieved a small assortment of fruit to treat them with. He exited the car and slowly walked within a few feet of them, and from there gently tossed the fruit at their feet. This act of kindness frightened off the pack and sent them running into the desert away from us. Perhaps they were saving these treats for later.
We continued on the dirt road towards the northern end of the Laguna Salada, where we rejoined the highway and headed west towards Tecate via the scenic drive through La Rumarosa. We stopped for Carne Asada, and then took our place at the end of a very long line to cross back into the United States. Luckily for us, there was plenty to catch up on from our weekend off the grid, it being a particularly noteworthy January 20th due to the inauguration of some guy named Donald Trump. I wondered if this could have had anything to do with our unseasonably long wait to cross back home.
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Posted on February 13, 2025
Monthly Recap – January 2025
Happy New Year and welcome to TFTC! This site was initially envisioned as a place where I could showcase the many photos I take on camping trips and try to create some sort of an enjoyable accompaniment to them. I’ve decided now to also try and document my day-to-day life experiences, on a hopefully manageable monthly basis.
In addition to trail reports and outdoors-related blogs, I’m planning on recapping my monthly happenings here. I don’t have too solid of a plan for how this will all look, so we will see what feels most natural as I get into a groove. Thanks for reading!
Happy New Year!
I suppose there’s no better time to start monthly recaps than the new year, especially because I had a particularly eventful and exciting Q4 of 2024. As tempted as I am to write about it, I think it’s best to just start fresh with 2025.
For New Years’ Eve my family continued our annual tradition of a large celebration at my parents’ home. Amongst my cousins (or at least for me), this is the biggest, most highly anticipated family get-together of the year. This year was especially exciting and meaningful as we were joined by some newly-added family. In celebration of our recent engagement, Emma’s parents joined us for New Years’ and were hastily introduced to my overwhelming extended family (Big-Fat-Greek-Wedding-style). Jason and Melody brought their significant others as well, and it was a wonderful feeling to see our dinner table grow longer.
We enjoyed our traditional midnight firecrackers (sorry neighbors) and played a good bit of beer pong, at the request of the older generations who wanted to watch and take an occasional celebrity shot. I’m already looking forward to next year!
Hikes
Mt. Laguna
After sleeping off our late night, we joined Christina and her boyfriend Henry for a New Years’ hike on the Sunset Trail in Mount Laguna. The sky was clear and the weather far warmer than to be expected in January, which made for very pleasant walking conditions. Henry’s dog chased flocks of ducks through the many ponds as we went along the path and enjoyed the scenery. We completed a relatively non-strenuous 8 mile loop and enjoyed each other’s company. Hopefully we can do it again soon!
BRC
After months of waiting, we were finally able to schedule an introductory hike with the Borderlands Relief Collective. They are a community organization which supplies water, nonperishable food, and other essentials to remote locations, along paths frequented by migrants to the United States. They operate mainly in the Otay Mountain Wilderness, a steep mountain preserve directly on the border with Mexico. We had the opportunity to complete two hikes with them, supplying water, gatorades, canned food, and medical supplies to outposts they had created along some established migrant routes.
The hikes were tough – steep and unforgiving with little to no trail to follow and surrounded by dense growth which punctured our clothes and tangled in our hair. Our packs were filled to the brim with supplies, enough to leave rations in multiple locations along our route. As we began the descent into the creek bed, I estimate we were carrying over 50 pounds on our backs. After our trek back up to our starting point, despite my near-empty bag, my head was pounding and my clothes were drenched in sweat. Afterwards, we celebrated with tacos and Mexican cokes.
I did not take many photos out of respect for the organization and the humans who are forced to take these routes as a means to (hopefully) better their lives. In hindsight though, I wish I had taken a few more. The Otay Mountains host a beautiful collection of flora that was completely new to me, even as an avid hiker and lifelong San Diegan. There were large strands of the rare and endemic Tecate Cypress tree; tall and with wispy branches dotted in the characteristic seedpods which distinguish them.
Tragically, the area where we had hiked with BRC was recently subject to a massive wildfire, and in many areas practically nothing is left but rocks, soil, and charred remnants of the cypress.
Given the current political situation at the border, this was a particularly bad time for a fire in this vital corridor. Hopefully once things are a bit more stable on the mountain, we will be able to return and assist with delivering supplies for those traveling toward whatever it is they hope to find here.
Anyways…
Desert Exploring
John treated us to a spectacular hike this month in the desert of Eastern San Diego County. He brought us to several places that genuinely few seem to know about based on their state of preservation (and let’s keep it that way). Once again, I’m not including many photos here out of respect as John had explicit permission to bring us through and I do not encourage any unwelcome guests to visit.
It was a short walk to the “trailhead” – the seemingly random point in which we turned off of the paved road and into the desert. We passed into a field of boulders composed of granite, mica, and quartz and circled the base of a hill searching for the easiest ascent. Our destination was near the top, where a friend of John’s family had erected a shrine for a storied resident of their small town. We spent a short time admiring the view of the highway and the rugged mountains that surrounded us.
Due to the lack of rains that help to clear the desert floor of the many spikes and spines that litter the ground here (281 days since the last rain, per John as of the date of our hike), there were plenty of opportunities for John’s two dogs to get poked as they followed us on our hike. We frequently had to stop and remove cholla spines or sometimes entire nodules of cactus from their paws, face, and even under their tongues. Luckily, they are both hardy desert dogs and were not phased by the occasional inconvenience.
The next destination John had for us was the property of the family friend who had created the mountain shrine. She had lived there with her now-deceased husband until their house tragically burnt down last year. John first led us to what he called the “stone house”, an unburned-yet-never-finished structure built of river rocks held together with concrete which was the life’s work of her husband. Unfortunately, he was never able to finish this project and bring the home to a habitable state. It certainly seemed, however, that he came damn close as the home was two-story, with many rooms filled with eccentric decor. On display were hundreds of old bullet-ridden steel Chevron and Marlboro signs, license plates from many years and many states, rusted cars and motorcycles, cattle skulls, and plenty more collected over their lifetimes. Art permeated every surface, even the refrigerator; an old 50s model, it was elaborately decorated in brightly-colored abstract paintings. The home functioned as a quasi-museum showcasing the history of the area as well as the lives of those who lived there. We made our way through the home and discovered half-finished paintings hanging on every wall, old crusty paints and rolls of brushes forgotten in dusty faded aluminum coffee cans. The kitchen was filled with old spice jars from the 1940s and 50s. John opened an old McCormick tin of cinnamon and was surprised to find there was still some orange powdered spice left behind. He opted not to try any.
We then briefly visited the site where her home stood before the fire. There was not much but charred wood pieces and a few scattered former belongings. We tried flipping through a photobook we found on the ground but the plastic sleeves had all fused together from the heat, trapping the photos inside. Tired of intruding in someone’s worst tragedy, we headed back down towards John’s house.
As we neared the road, we made one final detour to a series of Mica mines carved one-above-another in the hillside. These deep horizontal bores seemed sturdy and well-visited, and there were no meaningful bits of Mica to be found.
Guadalupe Canyon Hot Springs
The most notable trip of our month was our stay in the fantastic Guadalupe Canyon. This was a multi-day trip to what has to be one of the best camping destinations in Baja California, where each site features its own private hot-spring-fed tub. This was an incredibly special trip, and I wrote about it in detail on the main blog linked below:
Trip Report – Guadalupe Canyon Hot Springs
Tijuana Xolos Game
We closed out the month with a trip to TJ to watch the Tijuana Xoloitzcuintles lose in extra time to Cruz Azul. Luckily, we don’t care much about soccer and were happy to just watch the game and enjoy some esquites. I’m excited to visit again soon.
More Quality Moments
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