That “vroom, vroom” kid from the television commercials has it all wrong: forget Mazda. Check out the amazing cars at Wide Open Baja. These custom-crafted off-road vehicles, which cost nearly $100,000 each, can handle anything, I would soon discover.
And Wide Open Baja offers several ways to experience them, with excursions of various durations, including Ensenada, Cabo and a lengthy drive between the two. I opt for the Wednesday through Saturday trip focused on Ensenada, just south of San Diego, and meet up with the group in San Diego.
Maximum size for a group is 24, and some past groups have been mixed (father-daughter outings), or even entirely female. My group has sixteen members, and it’s entirely male, no surprise as the majority of off-road enthusiasts are men. This group includes Will and Bill Cutter of Cutter Aviation, along with both employees and friends of the company. A giant bus meets us at San Diego airport for the trip across the border. While I took the train down from Los Angeles on a relatively cool June day, others have flown in from across the country, some private, some commercial.
We head south, making good time and quickly crossing the border. Destination: BFM (Bum Fuck Mexico). We cruise down the coast, through the slums of Tijuana and by a large bullfighting ring, and on past large and lovely beachfront and cliff-perched homes. We pass Foxploration, the Fox Studios facility in Baja where Titanic was filmed, complete with a large pirate-type ship on the sand out front. And we pass Virgins, a “gentlemen’s”
club, not stopping in spite of pleas from several in the group. We do, though, make a stop at La Fonda, a famous hotel and restaurant on the coast, for a tasty lunch of fish tacos, beer and margaritas.
Then it’s on to the Ranch, where our cars await us. First, though, it’s time for cold beers and a lecture or two about the vehicles and the terrain that await us.
“Expect the unexpected,” cautioned Sto, the leader of this Baja trip. Words to live by, as it turned out. Bald with a gray goatee, Sto is retired military – and comes across that way. He has a lot of rules, some serious, some less so. “The three most important things,” he says, “are radio, radio, radio.” But Sto’s number one rule is more practical: “When there is food in front of you, eat.” No waiting for others to be served in this group.
Our second guide is Robert Guerrero, a retired racer of both Indy and Formula One cars who one year had pole position and another year finished in second place at that legendary 500. “This is more fun,” he insists.
Most cell phones don’t work here (and for about half the trip), but the Ranch has WiFi, if not exactly high speed. There’s also a swimming pool, volleyball, and four wheel ATV vehicles to race around the property. Racing-related photos and posters hang in the large dining room and adjoining bar.
Following a dinner of salad, baked potato and grilled steaks, the group eventually drifts off to the rustic guest rooms. We’ll be up before sunrise to get an early start, so it’s an early night – and there’s not much to do here, anyway, other than sip beers in the bar.
We’re up at 6:30 to watch a safety video, sign paperwork and learn the finer points of the cars, including the GPS systems and the radios. They feature 2.6 litre Porsche engines, and custom-built frames of Chromoly steel act like a safety cage.
The group splits into teams, two to a car, and we all don our helmets, which include a hose for pumping in filtered air, and learn how to buckle the five point seat belts. Sto sends us to the cars with one last instruction: “Go fast, don’t hit nothin’.”
“When you hit a cow,” Guerrero adds, “you bought a cow!” Not only would you have to pay the rancher for the cow, you’d also be liable for the $3000 or so deductible – assuming you opt for the insurance ($175 for the shorter trips, $300 for the longer). The roads, such as they are, are used by locals. They’re also frequented by horses, cattle and all types of wildlife, from rabbits and squirrels to quail and snakes.
Unexpectedly, Guerrero is called away to Cabo to join another group. We pile into the cars and split into two groups, one led by Sto, the other by newly arrived guide James DeGaine, a bicycle and motorcyle racer. Todd Clement, winner of the Baja 1000 in 1997, founded Wide Open, and he hires top guides, most with racing experience of some type, like Guerrero, DeGaine and the others who lead his trips.
We’re in constant radio contact as the leader calls out hazards when he discovers them, giving us advance notice that will hopefully keep us safe. The driver and co-driver work together, watching for both landmarks and hazards.
With our helmets and air hoses, we look like a haz-mat team out of some sci-fi movie, rolling into small towns to search for survivors in the aftermath of a high-tech disaster. And riding in the front car, partnered with one of the leaders, it’s not clear why the gear is necessary as there’s no dust. But shifting to a car further back in the pack makes it very clear: it’s dry down here, and these cars kick up massive clouds of dirt and dust. Without the helmets and hoses, we’d be sucking dust the whole time.
After a short run on the highway, we’re onto the back roads made famous in the Baja 500 and 1000 – and these are little more than rock-strewn dirt trails, which is just the way the drivers like it. These high-performance cars devour the road. With four speed manual transmissions, 20” tires and incredible suspensions, it’s possible to drive over just about anything: potholes, dips, small rocks, big rocks, even boulders.
Possible, but not necessarily the right thing to do, as two cars get flat tires fairly quickly, and one vehicle does a 180 spinout. Problems are fixed quickly by the well-equipped car that trails both groups. We hit speeds of up to 80 miles per hour, and it feels like bumper cars, or a non-stop accident, as the body takes a pounding from all the bumps.
Some problems aren’t so easily remedied, however. The last car in one group misses a radio alert about a sharp turn. They go into the curve at full speed, and it’s too late: the car rolls two and a quarter times, landing on its side, the roof sheared off completely. The seatbelts do their job, though, and neither occupant is hurt – though the driver will be out the $3000 deductible. Worst of all, though, may be the nickname he carries for the rest of the trip for flipping his vehicle: Flipper.
We drive through a variety of terrain, from desert-like settings reminiscent of Palm Springs to long stretches of beach, past several lush vineyards and even down one road through a beautiful forest. There’s constant radio chatter – hard right turn at 23.7, rock in the road at 14.4 and so on – and also periods of silence where, whether passenger or driver, you just take in the natural beauty.
As thrilling as it is to sit behind the wheel, it’s equally fun to be co-driver and call out the obstacles to your partner; it’s also easier to enjoy the scenery. The co-driver has a t-bar, jutting out from the dashboard, to hold on to when the going gets rough. I quickly dub it the “oh shit” bar, as I seem to shout that just about the time I reach for it.
Best of all may be a stint in the passenger seat of one of the guides. DeGaine drives like an escaped convict fleeing pursuers, this in spite of the fact that he’s out front, with no one ahead of him to warn of hazards or inform him of what follows a blind rise or curve. Oddly, though, I feel completely relaxed in the passenger seat of his car, even as he goes flying over all sorts of plants, rocks and other obstacles. I rarely, if ever, grab the “oh shit” bar while I’m in the passenger seat of his car.
The Wide Open crew not only follows behind for safety, they also drive ahead to set up for lunch. The leader carries a backpack full of snacks, and everybody carries plenty of water, but this is a real meal: fresh tortillas with chicken fajitas; cheese quesadillas; vegetables; and fresh fruits. There’s also a box with everything from aspirin and band-aids to remedies for diarrhea.
Hotels are rustic – not the rustic luxury promised on Wide Open’s website and DVD. Drivers sleep several to a room in these minimal accommodations. But luxury is not the point here. It’s about man – make that male bonding – and machines.
“It’s my third time off-roading,” says Ron Sanders, a Cutter employee based in Midland Texas. “I like it intensely,” says the 65 year old who recently gave up flying but still drives a souped up Ford 250. “There’s no question in my mind that there will be a fourth time. It brings a group together. You can have meetings all year long, but you come down here and you really get to know people.”
Day one covers 180 miles, with another 165 or so covered on day two. Day three is shorter, just 120 or so, as it ends early, back at the original Ranch, in order to board the bus and get back across the border and to the airport by 7pm or so. That’s a lot of driving each day on rough roads, and it’s ultimately both physically challenging – and exhausting. But come to the end of the road, so to speak, and participants leave with a feeling of accomplishment.
Wide Open Baja: (949) 635-2292
