The highway that runs north of Los Cabos is long and desolate, its tarmac pummelled by petrol tankers and juggernauts carrying haulage. There are many turn-offs down to remote beaches. But don't swim: the Pacific Ocean here is treacherous and not to be messed with. But the brown pelicans, with their weather-beaten bills and salt-crusted umbrella-like wings are perfectly equipped to scavenge the killer waves for fish. I see scores of them dive-bombing.
I reached the old mission town of Todos Santos and opt to stay at the Hotel California. This place was immortalised by The Eagles and their song 'Hotel California'. There's been a lot of debate as to whether The Eagles actually stayed here however. The hotel management says the band possibly stayed in room 14.
But the gorgeous interior and artsy feel are the real draw. The decor is a cross between gypsy caravan-style and desert 'sheik'. Or a sort of shabby chic: my room has walls painted citron, strawberry and lime green and has an intimate feel. Some of the other communal rooms have classic, cut-glass chandeliers, crude old wooden furniture, sensuous lights that cast spiky shadows, Moorish ironwork and lots of paintings of local scenes. I love the place. It is balm to the soul after the long flight.
The restaurant is run by a Belgian Canadian chef and the fat, baked Pacific oysters, crusted in almonds, are to die for. In the morning, I hear the mission bell ringing out across the town.
The unpaved streets are lined with 19th-century brick-and-adobe haciendas, some adapted as galleries by Anglo artists who gravitated here for the tropical climate and low rent.
It's 2 hours drive to La Paz. Los Cabos may attract many tourists, but it's La Paz that offers an authentic provincial Mexican town as well as the real eco-tourism experience. Oceanographer Jacques Cousteau called Mexico's Sea of Cortez "the world's greatest aquarium" because of its unique and rich ecosystem. The east coast of Baja California, fringing the Sea of Cortez, is completely different from the west coast Pacific. It is sprinkled with islands, some of which are UNESCO protected as World Heritage Biospheres.
A classical way to sail these shores is by Turkish gulet, operated by a company called Barcos Que Cantan (www.barcosquecantan.com). The gulet has beautiful, en-suite cabins, far superior to any gulet I've been on in Turkey. On the first afternoon, they serve ceviche. The next morning, we are not permitted to leave the port because of the winds and I start to wonder if my eco-trip is doomed. I retire to my cabin and sleep for a few hours.
I'm woken at noon. We've been sailing for several hours whilst I slept. From my porthole, I can see we're anchored off an island. So I go up on deck to see what it is like.
Suddenly, I am birthed into a world of chromatic contrasts I could never have hoped for on this hot, frustrating afternoon: rare turquoise, candy-pink, lush green, fluttering yellow and bone-white, all mismatched colours that are perversely abundant on this isolated, soundless speck of land.
I had been pining for a slow, primitive beauty, a barefoot tranquillity, a virgin, balmy, outlandish spot. And that's what I get.
Up a finger-like inlet, the Sea of Cortez is so extravagantly turquoise it's like swimming in a bottle of Curaçao. I dive straight in. Unlike the tempestuous Pacific Ocean, the Sea of Cortez is as still as a millpond.
Time slows to a few frames per second. I wade lethargically ashore onto a tongue of wedding-cake white sand, silky soft under my toes and sprinkled with big shells and coral fragments that tintinnabulate when walked over.
This is Enseñada Grande beach, Isla Partida, an islet of absurd, groin-aching beauty, connected by a narrow isthmus to Isla Espiritu Santo. The human population is zero, but there are said to be a rare breed of black jackrabbits.
Clouds of yellow butterflies circle the beach, and sensing a human presence, they surround me. They are not shy, and flutter on my shoulders, around my hands, and land in my hair. Five minutes on, I'm on an almost perpendicular rabbit-run up volcanic cliffs that have a nail varnish-pink colour. My reaction to the discovery of this paradise is hysterical. I yearn to hug a tree. But the only trees on the island are 300-year old boojum trees, looking like an uprooted turnip.
After a few hours of hiking and swimming, I adopt a jaunty, tropical ease. Just to the north is Los Islotes, where you can snorkel with friendly sea lions.
In an afternoon, I see migrating grey whales, bottlenose dolphins, frigate birds and vultures, all obligingly on display.
Despite starting the week in the wrong resort, I found that this encounter with the other face of Baja California and its bountiful wildlife gave me the perfect natural high.
And that, surely, is the sign of a great trip.
Factbox
Information about Baja California can be found on the Mexico Tourist Board's website www.visitmexico.com or telephone 0207 488 9392.
The Hotel California in Todos Santos can be booked contacted on 00 52 612 145 0525 or by email info@hotelcaliforniabaja.com.
Details of the Turkish gulet trip on the Sea of Cortez can be found on their website www.barcosquecantan.com.
