Next stop, Punta Abreojos; it's Spanish for 'open your eyes' and once you see the perfect rights (waves) you will open them wide. Truth is that the early Spanish explorers named this point on account of the reef that often sunk their ships. A few hundred years later, Ollie and Shay rock up and hit the jackpot.

Abreojos is a legendary point break known for perfect rights, football field length rides, hard offshore winds and flies the size of seagulls. There are a handful of points; Burgers and Razors are the most famous. Razors actually featured in Surfer Magazine back in 1999. The article was called Dusted.
　
The road into the village of Abreojos is 80 kilometres of ruler straight road cutting through vast flat desert; miles and miles of sand and cactuses. We only met two cars on the entire drive in! The sun was setting as we arrived so after a quick and unsuccessful scout for a camping spot by the main break, we decided to head Campo Rene, a lovely green estuary and RV park just outside Abreojos. That night we rounded off a long day of driving with the local restaurants superb Fish Tacos and our first potent Mexican margaritas. The guy running the place had to pick up the phone and call the chef to come back to the restaurant and start cooking our meal. Now that's what we call service!

The next day we followed the sandy track along the coast and checked out one point after another. One was breaking very similar to Malibu Point in California, but the line up was empty at this one. After a few hours of coastline exploration we found 'Burgers' and a couple of other gringo's setting up camp. One in particular had driven from San Francisco, with only one short coffee break just to make it down to Abreojos before the south swell arrived. We parked up the truck ensuring we had front row seats at the following mornings dawn patrol. We didn't have to wait long for the forecasted swell to arrive.
　
The next morning we were all rewarded with clean, head-high plus waves, which only got better in the following days. With Ollie and another 3 guys out, it was commented that the point had never been so crowded! You've just got to love Baja!

Heaven and Hell
　
The point at Abreojos is perfect; there's great beach camping only 20 metres or so from the surf, a long empty beach with fine white sand, pelicans, dolphins and seals frolicking in the surf. A surfer would call it 'Heaven'. That is until 12.26pm when a switch is flicked by Lucifer himself and that gentle breeze does a 180 degree spin and the hurricane sets in. The only thing we could do was barricade ourselves into the camper for the duration of the day and night. When we ventured outdoors we were rewarded with an extreme exfoliation; the plus side of this was baby soft skin! Three days of sitting in a swaying camper, playing card games and watching the minute hand make its way around the clock and Shay's foot came down. 'Let's get the ROCK outta here!!' Luckily, Shay's breaking point was met with the breaking point for the swell, and with nothing but flat nothingness forecasted at Abreojos, Ollie was happy to comply.
　

Only a little further down the coast, but a huge 550km loop south and then most of the way back north again, is Punta Juanico, also known as 'Scorpion Bay'. The final 45km of the journey was fabled to be on our favourite washboard dirt road, but with the knowledge of seven legendary right point breaks waiting for us, we pressed on regardless. Within half an hour of teeth rattling and bone shaking, we had, had enough. It was easy to do the math, 30 miles at 10 miles an hour; it would take us 3 hours to get there! We had come way too far to turn back so in desperation we decided to trial different speeds in an effort to find the most comfortable. We even gunned it like the Mexicans in an attempt to fly over the bumps; all we succeeded in doing was losing the cupboards in our little camper. The conclusion to this experiment was that there was no good speed on these roads. Next step was going off-road! Parallel to the main road was some tracks which varied in sand depth. It was a little unnerving knowing we were miles from salvation if the truck happened to get stuck, but with a bit of luck and a lot of momentum, our faithful friend ploughed on through. Baja must be the only place in the world where the side tracks are better driving than the actual road.
　
When we were about half way, out of know-where, a brand new paved road appeared before us. We couldn't believe our eyes and were thanking god that he had taken pity on us. The next 14 miles flew by in a few minutes. In a few years perhaps surfers can enjoy a paved road the entire way.
　
　
The third point, the source of legends, located by the lighthouse, was not breaking. It needs a strong south swell and can apparently be flat for weeks on end. The second point however, was breaking waist height for at least 200 meters. We camped right on the point at the only lodgings in town; we'd like to call it 'Rip-off Resort'. Basically a greedy gringo has bought up the entire point and is charging blood prices to park on his patch of dirt. No hook ups, no hot showers… nada! Any extras were at a hefty cost. It was a shame because Scorpion Bay is a beautiful spot, and the small but perfectly peeling waves were perfect for Shay to learn on.

Paradise in the Tracks of a Hurricane

Back to civilization; that's the feeling we got when we rolled into La Paz; highways, chaotic traffic and even a Walmart greeted us on arrival. After a few beers and a substandard meal on the malecon (all at western prices) we were ready to head back to the Pacific coast, where even the dirt tracks were suddenly appealing. We decided to drop Cabo San Lucas and San Jose Del Cabo since they have become an extension of the US with flashy mega resorts swarming with rich American tourists and spring breakers, so we headed to Todo Santos; this place is also getting bigger on the tourist map but we had heard there was still places where you can hide away from the madness if you look hard enough.

　
A few years earlier, unknowing to us, hurricanes had wiped out the few RV parks we were now seeking, but at the end of the windy dirt road, capitalising on the disaster was a tranquil community of surfers who had set up their settlements within the now derelict buildings. Punta San Pedro is surfer heaven, with head high peaks in crystal clear water; a little too clear, as it made the take off a little intimidating, you looked straight down the face of the wave to the clearly visible cobblestones below.
We spent the next days, surfing and body boarding with Heather and Grady, a lovely couple from Oregon, who like us had decided to give up the rat-race for a year and had been studying Spanish for three months in La Paz.

End of the Baja Chapter
　
It would have been easy to stay for weeks at Punta San Pedro getting into the routine of morning surf, relaxing, sun tanning and the occasional look at our Spanish course books, but tickets for the ferry from La Paz to mainland of Mexico had been bought days earlier. We packed up our camp and followed Grady and Heather back to La Paz. Before our ferry departure we managed to take in a football game with their Mexican friends at a local bar and enjoy some delicious grilled steak at a nearby restaurant.

As we tackled the madness of Pichilingue port later that night, we couldn't wait to get settled into our ferry cabin and were hopeful of a steaming hot shower aboard. Thankfully the Mexicans ran an organised chaos and after minimal confusion we were clean and enjoying our first cervaza in the cheesy discoteca, eagerly anticipating new adventures on the mainland.