the zone.

the zone.

It’s what we call our favorite place on earth. Maybe you have a different name for this. To us, “the zone” is more of a head space than any specific location.

It’s essential everyone spends time in the zone to even out the unavoidable menagerie of bullshit every day life shells out. It’s a paramount part of working to create an ideal balance of work, play… enduring happiness. If it were up to us, “the zone” would be our full time program. One day…

It’s what we call our favorite place on earth. Maybe you have a different name for this. To us, “the zone” is more of a head space than any specific location.

It’s essential everyone spends time in the zone to even out the unavoidable menagerie of bullshit every day life shells out. It’s a paramount part of working to create an ideal balance of work, play… enduring happiness. If it were up to us, “the zone” would be our full time program. One day…

Until then, we took this particular chunk of time to achieve that headspace in the motherland— BAJA. As far as zones go, this tops them all. This place will absolutely & inevitably take any “plans” you think you may have and put them directly into the garbage (which is probably on fire). Trust me, you will not care. Give in, let go, and let the last true wild west take over. It NEVER disappoints.

Six full days to hawg all of the fun on this one. We started in the Norte region— the Pacific side of the peninsula for surfing, riding, beach hangs. The usual. After trudging through the pavement jungle which inhabits most of the immediate border region, we took that first breath of “vacaaaation” feeling when we hit a favorite stretch of dirt roads. A favorite not only for its beauty, but also (mostly) because it leads to what is the best margarita stop on the coast. We’re leaving locations up to the reader’s own research and imagination in this story. If you choose to geographically find us this far, then order the Chupacabra marg, trusssst.

Until then, we took this particular chunk of time to achieve that headspace in the motherland— BAJA. As far as zones go, this tops them all. This place will absolutely & inevitably take any “plans” you think you may have and put them directly into the garbage (which is probably on fire). Trust me, you will not care. Give in, let go, and let the last true wild west take over. It NEVER disappoints.

Six full days to hawg all of the fun on this one. We started in the Norte region— the Pacific side of the peninsula for surfing, riding, beach hangs. The usual. After trudging through the pavement jungle which inhabits most of the immediate border region, we took that first breath of “vacaaaation” feeling when we hit a favorite stretch of dirt roads. A favorite not only for its beauty, but also (mostly) because it leads to what is the best margarita stop on the coast. We’re leaving locations up to the reader’s own research and imagination in this story. If you choose to geographically find us this far, then order the Chupacabra marg, trusssst.

Five slightly tequila buzzy miles down the dirt road is camp. On our arrival began one of Baja’s most notorious curve balls- the WIND (we say the “W”. Do not speak her name). Two full days of sustained 25mph from the NW rendered the waves un-ridable, and the camp was basically a standstill dust devil. Beers anyone? Still, surf attempts were made, and smiles were had. Luckily one activity the “W” can’t really fuck up is riding motorcycles on the beach. It was hard to beat. A reminder that although Baja is in charge, we handle what we make of it.

Five slightly tequila buzzy miles down the dirt road is camp. On our arrival began one of Baja’s most notorious curve balls- the WIND (we say the “W”. Do not speak her name). Two full days of sustained 25mph from the NW rendered the waves un-ridable, and the camp was basically a standstill dust devil. Beers anyone? Still, surf attempts were made, and smiles were had. Luckily one activity the “W” can’t really fuck up is riding motorcycles on the beach. It was hard to beat. A reminder that although Baja is in charge, we handle what we make of it.

On Easter Sunday we left the beach, headed east for better weather and the mother of all desert scenery. Mexico being a primarily Catholic culture, this particular holiday made it damn near impossible to find a taco shop open on our journey. When we were all about to settle for gas station hot dogs, we passed a small bright red building with a glorious firing spit of al pastor in front. “He has risen!!!” The food was outrageous, and we now have a new favorite stop.

On Easter Sunday we left the beach, headed east for better weather and the mother of all desert scenery. Mexico being a primarily Catholic culture, this particular holiday made it damn near impossible to find a taco shop open on our journey. When we were all about to settle for gas station hot dogs, we passed a small bright red building with a glorious firing spit of al pastor in front. “He has risen!!!” The food was outrageous, and we now have a new favorite stop.

"If it were up to us, “the zone” would be our full time program. One day..."

"If it were up to us, “the zone” would be our full time program.
One day..."

Once in the depths of the most beautiful desert, we stopped at a unique oasis in the form of a mission style hotel. It was tempting to shack up in paradise to rinse two days of living in a sand tornado off in their lovely swimming pool, we alas head out for camp. But NOT before ordering one round of margaritas at the bar. Oh and another round, para llevar, for our short dirt road to camp. Am I sensing a theme here?

Once in the depths of the most beautiful desert, we stopped at a unique oasis in the form of a mission style hotel. It was tempting to shack up in paradise to rinse two days of living in a sand tornado off in their lovely swimming pool, we alas head out for camp. But NOT before ordering one round of margaritas at the bar. Oh and another round, para llevar, for our short dirt road to camp. Am I sensing a theme here?

That afternoon we settled in a massive cactus forest speckled with huge sandstone formations. This landscape makes Joshua Tree look like small time business. A moto rip at dusk ended in a cholla cactus landing (crash?) for one of our less fortunate buddies. The evening hilariously unfolded with all the gals surrounding him with pairs of tweezers and headlamps, picking spines out of the poor guy in his underwear while the rest of the dudes poured mezcal into his gullet to numb the pain. A night we will never forget (especially senior pokey).

That afternoon we settled in a massive cactus forest speckled with huge sandstone formations. This landscape makes Joshua Tree look like small time business. A moto rip at dusk ended in a cholla cactus landing (crash?) for one of our less fortunate buddies. The evening hilariously unfolded with all the gals surrounding him with pairs of tweezers and headlamps, picking spines out of the poor guy in his underwear while the rest of the dudes poured mezcal into his gullet to numb the pain. A night we will never forget (especially senior pokey).

The Sea of Cortez was calling our names— where we’re very fortunate to have a house in the family. Since the Hwy 1 and 5 connection has been paved, this drive is just too easy. The reveal of the striking turquoise Cortez as you descend the mountain pass south of Gonzaga is enough to make any human consider what is truly important. When it’s 80 degrees, smooth seas, and your buds are in tow to a 5th generation family home… Si, por favor.

Arrival at the house- even just to this tiny town- is the same every time. It is life changing. Seasoned visitors get to share the experience with the first timers. Grins pass between you all. It’s a realization you are all in paradise.

The Sea of Cortez was calling our names— where we’re very fortunate to have a house in the family. Since the Hwy 1 and 5 connection has been paved, this drive is just too easy. The reveal of the striking turquoise Cortez as you descend the mountain pass south of Gonzaga is enough to make any human consider what is truly important. When it’s 80 degrees, smooth seas, and your buds are in tow to a 5th generation family home… Si, por favor.

Arrival at the house- even just to this tiny town- is the same every time. It is life changing. Seasoned visitors get to share the experience with the first timers. Grins pass between you all. It’s a realization you are all in paradise.

Three days of fishing and swimming the Cortez follow. We crush patio drinks while watching the full moon rise over the still pastel sea- just as the sun sinks below the mountains across the bay. It gets dark. Someone volunteers to meander out back and start the generator to power up the house (yep, whole town’s off the grid). A family style dinner in the ancient kitchen gets thrown together. Back to the patio to gaze the whole Milky Way beside a cozy campfire. A 3-day blur of this ensues— dabbing in taco lunch runs at the local bar, and making trigger fish ceviche we caught hours before. Everyone crossed north to the border with souls satisfied, and very ready to return soon.

Find a bad day in Baja, dare you. There’s a bumper sticker for a reason.

Three days of fishing and swimming the Cortez follow. We crush patio drinks while watching the full moon rise over the still pastel sea- just as the sun sinks below the mountains across the bay. It gets dark. Someone volunteers to meander out back and start the generator to power up the house (yep, whole town’s off the grid). A family style dinner in the ancient kitchen gets thrown together. Back to the patio to gaze the whole Milky Way beside a cozy campfire. A 3-day blur of this ensues— dabbing in taco lunch runs at the local bar, and making trigger fish ceviche we caught hours before. Everyone crossed north to the border with souls satisfied, and very ready to return soon.

Find a bad day in Baja, dare you. There’s a bumper sticker for a reason.

video produced by Drew Martin
photography by Drew Martin & Gregg Boydston
words by Sarah Martin & Drew Martin

video produced by Drew Martin
photography by Drew Martin & Gregg Boydstonn
words by Sarah Martin & Drew Martin