Discover the Rugged Beauty of Baja California Sur with iBestTravel
Away from the core of Los Cabos, travelers can encounter a more rugged side of Baja California Sur, where adventure and comfort go hand in hand.
On the first morning of my road trip through Baja California Sur, I found myself bobbing in a small boat off the coast of the state capital, La Paz. Pelicans skimmed the glassy surface, and dolphins made a frolicsome cameo alongside the hull, followed by dozens of stingrays. This biodiversity led Jacques Cousteau to christen these waters “the world’s aquarium.”
My affable guide, Said Estrada, who works with eco-outfitter Red Travel México, was confident that the windless morning indicated we’d soon locate the largest fish in the ocean: the whale shark. These generally elusive speckled creatures can grow up to 40 feet and congregate from late fall to late spring when the currents turn the area into a plankton buffet. Once we had spied a shark, we would dive in and swim alongside it.
“You’ll see,” Estrada said proudly. “There is much more to Baja than being hungover in Cabo.” He referred to Cabo San Lucas, the rollicking resort town at the southernmost tip of the peninsula, which often overshadows the region’s natural wonders.
My education in the limitations of such thinking began the previous day. After flying into Cabo, I rented a car and headed north along the western flank of the 775-mile-long peninsula, enveloped in a sun-drenched landscape of untrammeled splendor: cacti-dotted desert, jagged mountains, and the emerald churn of the Pacific. Few cars were seen, and developments were minimal.
The sensation of being transported to a time before civilization was so acute that it was shocking when, 2½ hours later, I arrived in La Paz, a frenetic, industrious port city and marine biology hub that butts up against the turquoise waters of the Sea of Cortés.
Ecotourism has long been the economic engine of La Paz, thanks to the Espíritu Santo Archipelago, a UNESCO-protected marine park rich with wildlife. Accommodations have tended to cater to those seeking basic quarters after a day of snorkeling with sea lions. My lodging, the Baja Club Hotel, provided a glimpse of the city’s evolving landscape, increasingly attracting travelers who desire off-the-grid enrichment and refined places to stay.
The 32-room property, the latest offering from the Mexico-based hotel brand Grupo Habita, is constructed around a restored early-20th-century hacienda facing the promenade skirting the bay. The interior offered unexpected elegance: terrazzo flooring, a library, a glittering pool in an interior courtyard, a spa, and a rooftop bar, suggesting a residence more than just a hotel.
An hour into my excursion, the wind picked up, ruffling the surface with whitecaps. After another hour without sighting a shark, Estrada grew edgy. Visibility was dwindling, and new conservation initiatives limited the number of boats allowed on the water, indicating our time was running short. Suddenly, Estrada leaped into the water, calling for me to follow.
While attempting to track Estrada in the currents, I felt something immense below me—a delicate nudge against my hip. Looking down, my vision was filled with the spotted skin of a shark, sizeable enough to feel surreal; its dorsal fin had likely grazed me. After it passed, I glimpsed its majestic form before it vanished into the murky depths—a magical encounter setting the tone for the days ahead.
On land, I drove through reflective trance, past a mangrove reserve and pink-tinged rock outcroppings. Although I hoped to spend the afternoon at Playa Balandra, renowned for its beauty, I found it had reached capacity due to local restrictions—momentarily disappointing yet leading to new discoveries.
Just minutes south, I discovered Playa Pichilingue, a bone-white sand spit where I joined only about ten others. The afternoon melted over cold beers and a medley of tilapia, octopus, and shrimp simmered in smoky tomato sauce at La Luna Bruja, the beach’s simple café.
That evening, I took in the sunset from the Baja Club rooftop before exploring a town designed for actual living rather than mere visiting. I stopped at La Miserable, an unassuming bar with a slapdash courtyard, for what I thought would be a quick cocktail, but it transformed into a leisurely multi-hour experience thanks to my server, Attila Cocchi, who exuded warm hospitality and provided an extensive tutorial on mezcal.
The Top 25 Resort Hotels in Mexico
Prior to this trip, I fantasized about driving down to Baja from Los Angeles, getting lost and found, surrendering to vagabond clichés. The next morning, I ventured into the peninsula’s interior, passing through foreboding desert, with eagles and vultures circling overhead, before driving east into the Sierra de la Laguna along an adrenaline-inducing road with hairpin turns.
After an hour and a half, I approached the rugged coastline of the East Cape, imagining a life spent in an RV under an assumed name. I was to meet my girlfriend, Erin, at the Four Seasons Resort Los Cabos at Costa Palmas. This ambitious project opened in 2019 and will soon feature a new Aman resort, a marina, yacht club, and lavish private residences, evolving this undeveloped stretch into a high-end getaway.
The Four Seasons occupies eight acres, designed to be an oasis, where low-rise structures appear to emerge from meticulously groomed sand dunes. Our suite offered unobstructed views of the calm Sea of Cortés, creating a sense of privacy even with the resort nearly at full capacity.
In keeping with Baja’s spirit, the hotel encourages adventure, arranging excursions like mountain hiking, 4×4 off-roading, deep-sea fishing, and snorkeling outings to Cabo Pulmo National Park just south of the property. Erin and I chose a private sunset cruise, coinciding with the annual migration of gray whales.
Though no whales surfaced as we enjoyed a bottle of Moët Nectar Impérial, we savored dinner at Limón, one of the hotel’s five restaurants. Eating in the midst of a lemon grove, dishes like cauliflower with serrano pepper and pork ribs cooked over wood-burning grills delighted our palates.
Erin pointed towards the ocean the next morning, excitedly asking about a peculiar sight. What first looked like a fountain turned out to be a spectacular display of Mobula rays, gracefully leaping out of the water.
We crossed west through the mountains to conclude our trip near Todos Santos, a Pacific coast town popular with surfers and bohemian expats. Our destination, Paradero Todos Santos, embraces this lifestyle with an emphasis on experiential stagecraft that seduces even the most seasoned influencers.
The drive felt cinematic, as we turned off the main highway onto a dirt path, passing through farmland and fields of ancient cacti into a compound of Brutalist concrete structures. The minimalist open-air lobby, referred to as “the community,” set an inviting tone.
The outdoor spa, still being finished, features a temescal for spiritual cleansing ceremonies. A half-moon infinity pool seemed ready to serve as a backdrop for experimental theater.
One staff member guided us to our room, a rooftop suite in earth tones featuring a unique “sky net”—a hammock intended for nighttime stargazing.
“I have a feeling we’re being initiated into a wellness cult,” Erin remarked, indirectly touching on Paradero’s ethos as an “experience-inclusive” hotel. The activities-centric approach gives it a grown-up summer camp vibe. We opted for physically demanding activities, surprised by the intensity of our half-day biking trip through quaint villages and up steep hills overlooking the ocean.
Surfing at nearby Playa de Los Cerritos proved enjoyable as I watched Erin catch cheerful rides with the help of her instructor, Martín Olea. These rugged outings contrasted pleasantly with our dining experiences at the hotel.
Chef Eduardo Ríos, formerly of Pujol in Mexico City, elevates open-fire cooking into an art. The shrimp zarandeados—prawns blackened to a smoky perfection—were the gastronomic highlight of our journey.
While Paradero serves as a destination itself, it also holds a prime location for exploring. One afternoon, Erin and I drove back toward Playa Los Cerritos to Barracuda Cantina, where we enjoyed pilgrimage-worthy shrimp tacos on a shaded patio. Another afternoon was spent checking out boutiques around town after indulging in delicious yellowtail tostadas and perhaps too many margaritas at Tiki Santos Bar.
On our final night, we ventured down the main road, turning right at a small sign reading “beach bar,” leading us to Pure Playa. As DJ-spun music filled the air, we relaxed by fire pits. Later, we navigated to Hierbabuena, where most vegetables are sourced from the on-site organic gardens.
Driving to the airport the next morning, a familiar melancholy swelled within me, pondering how long Baja California Sur would retain the sweet spot I’d cherished that week—distinct from Cabo yet gritty and polished.
However, these concerns faded as we pulled off the coast to a barren stretch, aside from a faded van seemingly converted to run on vegetable oil. Farther out, we spotted a solitary gray whale breaching the surface, exhaling a small geyser from its blowhole. This reaffirmed that Baja was here to stay—at least for the foreseeable future.
