Maybe it's just me, but the first time I heard the words "fish" and "taco" together I felt rather nauseous. But, the ol' fish taco is definitely Baja's favorite and most famous meal -- be it breakfast, lunch or dinner. Just about everywhere you look there is a taco stand accompanied by a sign with a happy looking cartoon fish encouraging you to come over and try this local specialty.

The customs officer who helped us with our paperwork in Tijuana was the first person to mention the fish taco. In fact, he recommended that we eat as much fish as we could in the Baja. I don't mind fish but it seems like a risky food to consume at an outdoor stand...really how long can shrimp sit in the sun before it becomes a hazard to someone's health?

Rumored to be a creation of Japanese fishermen, this meal was the word on everyone's lips by the time we reached Southern Baja. "Try the fish taco" was pretty much a daily occurrence. Usually, I am game to try most foods but for some reason I pictured this dish as a soggy taco with undercooked fish coated in a slimy sauce. I hadn't even seen a fish taco in actuality but already this figment of my imagination had turned my stomach against it. Soon, though, curiosity got the better of me and I wanted to see whether the fish taco was any good -- so I came up with a plan. This well-devised plan was to get my husband Tom to try one and let me know how it was.

In the initial planning stage, we had a hard time finding recommendations about what kind of car would be the best for this type of trip, so we had to muddle through on our own and hope that whatever we chose would be hardy enough to withstand a year long (maybe more) driving trip.

Choosing a car can be a bit difficult -- you don't want to stick out too much, but you also need a car in good, solid condition that will be able to tolerate the demanding roads and sweltering heat.

Here are some things to consider when choosing a car for a long road trip of this nature:

Make of Car

Mexico seems to have an abundance of Fords, Toyotas, and Volkswagens. But we've also spotted plenty of Isuzu Troopers, Land Rovers and Jeeps. Some of the most popular models are the Ford Bronco and standard Toyota truck, which we were told are some of the easiest cars to fix. Our VW, a 1991 Golf, has done well, but finding parts has proved to be an issue (at least in the Baja) -- something we did not anticipate.

A Ford truck or SUV seems to be the way to go. Whichever car you do choose, try to pick one with a relatively simple engine, this way if you do require a mechanic's help they should be able to get you back on the road as soon as possible.

I lived out a hippie fantasy of mine a few years back when an old boyfriend and I drove his truck from Alaska to Mexico, camping the whole way. In Baja, where we camped on a beach for a month, he ran out of money and my funds got pretty low. We had to subsist on a diet of bread, rice, and oatmeal which were alternately flavored with peanut butter, jelly, maple syrup, or chicken bouillon cubes. I think I had one margarita that whole month, but nevertheless it was a great time -- dolphins would swim by, I could swim laps along the shore, and my hair even started to dread (which was my incentive to finally wash it).

I could go on about my idyllic pseudo-hippie days, but the point of my story is to compare the Baja of my early twenties to the troubling Baja of today. The San Diego Union-Tribune reports that a half-dozen robberies and car jackings along Baja's 780-mile stretch have been targeted at U.S. surfers. One story, from a Swamis Surfing Association member, is particularly gruesome:

With so many interesting stories coming out and into the New Year it made selecting this week's five a bit difficult, yet I think I've gathered a well-rounded batch for you to review.

5. Think Before You Click:
Here is the sad tale of a German tourist who accidentally booked a ticket and flew into Sidney, Montana when he actually wanted to go to Sydney, Australia. The lucky fellow was able to make it to his intended destination with the help of family and friends, but talk about a costly mistake! Ouch.

4. Ask The Pilot:
Looking for the answer to all your flying questions? Why not "Ask the Pilot" or pick up the book to see if your question happens to make the selection of commonly pondered questions.

3. Gerald R. Ford Presidential Museum:
When a former president is no longer with us it is a big deal to say the least and many feel the need to pay some sort of tribute. The Gerald R. Ford Presidential Museum is just one place to start or perhaps you can think and thank him on your way from the ATM as he was the dude that made it legal to pull money from a machine. Not as grand as a trip to the museum, but its just a thought.

2. Paddling Baja Dispatch: Day 2:
After another great trip, Erik returns to share with us the details of paddling Baja. In this dispatch he talks about his guide Carlos, jagged coastlines, incredible rock formations, Mexican food, and rum and of course he does the favor of including some very cool photos from the affair. There is more to come, but in the meanwhile catch up on this if you already haven't.

1. Chinese Shish Kabobs:
Death-wish or delicious? I don't know about the food found in the pictures from Neil's pal Pete, but I do know they make my skin crawl to the point where these Chinese shish kabob would be staying far from the taste-buds and only close enough for photo ops. Do proceed with caution.

There is something nearly indescribable about waking up on the first day of a paddling trip when you know that what lies ahead are days of nothing but paddling in a place you've never been. Your mind cannot quite grasp the collective moments of joy and, perhaps, misery, that lie ahead. Of course, even the most miserable day paddling beats a day at the office, and so while we had little idea what lay ahead, we knew that the moments would begin to flow the second we opened our eyes.

And so we awoke that first day giddy with anticipation. We grabbed some coffee and immediately met up with our guide, an amiable, capable-looking Mexican guy named Carlos. The morning was cool, and our boats had already been sent North to a deserted bay on the island. From the get go, luck was with us. Sort of.

Carlos stood in front of a colorful map of Isla Espiritu Santo that was painted on the wall of the Mar y Aventuras hotel. He showed us our route and explained that because there was a rather heavy wind blowing down from the North, they were going to take us by skiff to the top of the island where we'd be dropped off to paddle South.

We'd signed up for a self-supported paddle trip, which meant that we were supposed to carry all our own stuff: gear, food, supplies. But with the strong winds, the company decided instead to send along the skiff for the entire trip. That suddenly made things a whole lot easier. It meant that our actual paddling loads would be much lighter and that we'd also be able to bring along much more food and drink than we'd planned. Hmmm...drink. On the bad side, this meant that our notions of a true wilderness adventure dimmed a bit. But it also meant that the luxury quotient, as it were, rose significantly. Having a skiff along meant that we could just toss our stuff into its spacious hold whenever we took off. It relieved us of a big burden and of the time it takes to pack up everything neatly every time we headed out in the kayaks. We could have objected...but of course, we didn't

The skiff took us about ten miles North to a spot on the island where our kayaks had been dropped the night before. The ride was a marvelous visual hors d'oeuvre of what lay ahead. We motored over the wind-scalloped blue seas and along the jagged coast where layer cake rock formations rose high above us. Cactus stood guard from the cliff tops, acting as prickly sentinels.

We disembarked at the spot where our kayaks had been kept overnight, had a quick lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches and then headed out to reach Candelero Bay, where we'd set up our first camp. We had two tandem (or double) boats and two singles. My friend Mark Humphries and I rode in one of the doubles and my other two friends, Erik Riegler and Dork Alahydoian paddled in the other. Carlos was in a single as was a perky, graying brunette from Vancouver, British Columbian an emergency room physician whose presence as both a testosterone-diluting female and a doctor was welcome.



The first day of paddling was decidedly relaxed. The seas were rough, but we stayed close to shore where the winds were tame and the swells less severe. By 4 pm, we'd made camp at Candelero Bay and immediately set up our tents. Meanwhile, Carlos and our skiff driver Angel, went about making dinner.

One of the unexpected pleasures of our trip was that our guide, Carlos, had a deep fondness for both good Mexican food and, more importantly, good coffee. To our astonishment and everlasting satisfaction, his abiding passion for these things made every meal and every morning a delight. And as anyone who has taken extended trips into the wilderness knows, hunger does indeed make a fine sauce. But so does habanero salsa, and Carlos was both lucky and prescient to have a few iron-clad stomachs on the trip and brought along a few bottles of the stuff.

Of course, nothing washes down extremely hot Mexican food better than rum, and so as we sat and ate our first meal of fresh tacos that early evening, and as the sun sank into a saffron stew of clouds on the horizon, we sat on the beach in portable chairs and sipped icy cold cups of Bacardi and Coke.

Soon after, bellies full, shoulders weary from paddling and heads nicely lightened by rum, night came, a canopy of stars shimmered overhead, and we sat and talked about life and the necessary and incandescent thrill of getting away on trips like this.

OK, folks, this is the first of a series of posts I'm going to do on my very recent paddling trip to Baja California. I got back on Sunday night after a deliriously awesome five days paddling in the turquoise waters of the Sea of Cortez. This post is a simple one. A picture, which may or may not be worth 1000 words, of my two pals crossing a nice little stretch of water with a crop of redstone in the foreground.