Much of Baja’s terrain is something out of a live-action Flintstones movie. Bedrock litters the desert floor as if a once great mountain had succumbed to even greater pressures and combusted. Boulders comparable to Winnebagos scatter heavily on the ground with no trace of origin. Varieties of cacti and succulents bring life to the otherwise desolate landscape. Rare pops of color and soft white petals expose themselves to a keen eye. The sand is teeming with reasonably small to alarmingly large rattlesnake excrement. Cattle and horse roam wild, mainly in packs, thin from the wear that is expected from surviving in a desert. It’s beautiful. It’s dangerous. It’s a glimpse into Earth’s prehistoric past. Mostly untouched since its birth, Baja’s geographical details rival the set of “Road Warrior.” And, this was proven even more apparent when we entered San Quintin (pronounced “San Keen-Teen”), a small town some two hours south of Ensenada.