Click, Wander & Savor

Wine Country, Dirt Roads, Horses, and Baby Churros

My daughter and I drove two hours south from home to San Diego on a hot June day, where we met up with new acquaintances to celebrate a milestone birthday in Mexico for one of my girlfriends. From there, we divided up and climbed into white vans with guides who would drive us across the U.S. Mexico border. Though I had been to Mexico before, this was my first time crossing by car, and I was excited about everything ahead.

The border itself was a blur of lanes, concrete dividers, murals, and motion. And then, just like that, we were in Baja.

First Stop: Tacos in Rosarito

Our first stop after crossing was in Rosarito, and like many good things in Mexico, it revolved around tacos. We pulled into Tacos El Yaqui, a longtime local favorite that has been serving Sonoran-style carne asada since the 1980s.

This is not a flashy place. It is busy, loud, and filled with locals, which is always the best sign. The tacos were simple and perfect, grilled meat tucked into warm tortillas with beans, guacamole, onions, and salsa. Standing there with my daughter, surrounded by people who clearly ate here often, it felt like the right way to begin the weekend.

Settling In at Hotel Hacienda Guadalupe

From Rosarito, we continued south into the Valle de Guadalupe and arrived at Hotel Hacienda Guadalupe. Surrounded by vineyards and rolling hills, the hotel felt quiet and removed from everything.

Our group had nearly the entire property, which made it feel more like a private estate than a hotel. Rooms were spread out, the evenings were peaceful, and the pace immediately slowed.

Breakfast at La Cocina de Doña Esthela

One morning, before wine tastings took over the day, my daughter and I headed to La Cocina de Doña Esthela for breakfast.

This family-run restaurant has been around for decades, long before the valley became an international wine destination. It feels like someone’s home, because in many ways it is. Women shape dough by hand, tend wood-fired ovens, and move with quiet confidence through the kitchen.

I ordered chilaquiles, no cheese and no sour cream, and somehow they still did not disappoint. The tortillas were perfectly cooked, coated in house-made salsa, full of flavor without being heavy. It was the kind of breakfast that reminds you why places like this become institutions.

A Single Winery Stop: El Cielo

While most of the adults in our group continued winery hopping, I limited myself to just one tasting since my youngest daughter was with me. That stop was El Cielo.

El Cielo is modern and airy, with a glass tasting room and a long wooden deck overlooking rows of vines and distant mountains. It felt relaxed rather than formal, polished but not pretentious. I enjoyed the view, the calm, and the chance to slow down before rejoining the non-drinkers for the rest of the afternoon.

A Detour to Ensenada

After El Cielo, I returned to Hotel Hacienda Guadalupe and joined my daughter and a few other non-drinkers for a trip into Ensenada.

The change was immediate. Vineyards gave way to city streets, storefronts, ocean air, and the steady hum of everyday life. Ensenada felt like a working port city, lively and unpolished.

My daughter practiced her Spanish while ordering food, confidently navigating conversations as she prepared to head into ninth grade. Watching her do that was one of the quieter highlights of the trip.

Birthday Dinner at Viñedos Malagón

That evening, the birthday celebration brought us to Viñedos Malagón, owned by Joe Malagón.

The winery is understated and welcoming, with white buildings, gravel paths, and vineyards stretching outward. Dinner here is cooked underground using a traditional pit method. Meat is seasoned, wrapped, lowered into hot stones, and left to cook slowly for hours.

When the pit was opened, steam rose and the scent alone told us this would be something special. The food was tender, smoky, and deeply satisfying, paired with Malagón wines meant to complement rather than compete.

It felt less like dining out and more like being invited into a tradition.

Horseback Riding at Rancho La Bellota

Finding Rancho La Bellota turned into its own adventure.

Our guide missed a turn, and suddenly we were driving into a sketchy-looking compound that made me think we were absolutely in the wrong place. Dogs barked. Not stray dogs, but the kind that let you know you were being noticed. I had a brief moment of thinking this was how vacation stories go very wrong.

A few questions in Spanish, a quick correction, and we were back in the van heading up into the hills.

The final stretch was a narrow dirt road carved into the mountainside, barely wide enough for the van, no guardrails, and a lot of trust in our driver. When we arrived, the tension disappeared instantly.

Neither my daughter nor I had ever ridden a horse before. I was paired with a beautiful reddish-brown horse, calm and steady, while she climbed onto a white one just as patient. There was a moment of nerves as I wondered how exactly we were going up a mountain on animals I had just met.

But the horses knew what they were doing. With slight tugs on the reins, they followed directions easily and moved confidently over rocks and uneven ground. My nerves faded quickly, replaced by awe.

The ride took us uphill, opening wide views of the valley below. These horses roam freely when not working and are only brought in for guest rides. It showed in how comfortable and sure-footed they were.

Afterward, we were treated to a home-cooked lunch and generous margaritas. Dusty, smiling, and relaxed, it was one of the most authentic experiences of the trip.

The Drive Home and Baby Churros

The drive back across the border brought us back to reality. Traffic was heavy. The air conditioner in the van broke. The heat was relentless.

At one point, traffic was so backed up that we let people out to use a public restroom, and they made it back to the van without any trouble because we had barely moved.

Somewhere along the way, we bought cups of baby churros from a roadside vendor. They were warm, crisp on the outside, soft on the inside, and coated in sugar. Fresh, simple, and perfect. We shared them, sticky-fingered and happy.

Baja, Rewritten

As we crossed back into the U.S., tired and warm, I thought about how different this trip had been from expectations. Baja surprised me at every turn. No beaches, no resorts. Just vineyards, ranches, food, history, and people doing things the way they always have.

And somewhere between tacos, horses, and churros, my daughter confidently ordered food in Spanish, on the verge of ninth grade, growing right alongside the memories we were making.

It was a weekend I will always be grateful we shared.