Baja & Learning From My Mistakes

About five years ago, I launched a property management division at R.W. Price Realty Associates on a whim.

It flopped.

Not because property management is a bad business.

Not because people don't need it.

Not because there's not plenty of room for innovation in that space.

It flopped because I hate property management.

I don't even like managing my properties - I do it because it's a necessary aspect of owning them, but every other month or so, I swear I will hire someone else to do it.

So why did I think I'd enjoy or, much less, find success in a property management division?

I didn't.

Meaning I didn't think about it.

I was at a point in my brokerage career where I was burned out, bored, and tired of working 12-hour days, 6-7 days per week.

I needed something—anything—to break that monotony, and at that moment, I decided property management was the ticket.

So I jumped in, feet first - ignoring the uncomfortable thoughts that it might not be the best idea.

And I failed miserably.

About six weeks ago, when the location of a bi-annual conference was set for Cabo San Lucas on the lower end of the Baja Peninsula, I decided to drive rather than fly.

Starting in Yuma, AZ, I'd traverse 1,000 miles across rugged, remote 4WD roads, camping each night alone and in the middle of nowhere.

Halfway through, Julia would join me for a 10-day return trip to Yuma.

Again, I jumped in feet first.

Pedal to the metal with preparations for our first international overlanding trip - while ignoring some uncomfortable thoughts about safety.

Yesterday, I posted about the surfers who were murdered last week south of Ensenada in Baja.

Shot in the heads and dumped in a well by thieves who wanted their truck tires.

It's a terrible, tragic thing.

At first, I ignored it. I assumed they were doing something stupid, like trying to buy drugs from the Cartel.

However, as details emerged with each passing day, I was forced to admit I needed to learn more about the current safety and security of traveling in Baja.

It's a legendary place where I've wanted to travel for decades, but also a place that I know nothing about.

Last night, in the culmination of my research since the surfers went missing, I read the editorial posted on my 4th by long-time Baja resident and editor of TalkBaja, Ron "BajaGringo" Hoff.

It read, in part, "Whether you saw anybody or not, it's quite likely that someone did see you driving into that remote campsite you love, and it's a 50/50 chance these days that within hours, someone will be there behind the rocks and the bushes, quietly watching your movements from a distance, sizing you up as well as making mental notes of your vulnerabilities and possessions."

Jumping into property management while ignoring signs that it might not be the best idea cost me time and money. Had I given it more thought, perhaps I could have avoided that.

The stakes of traveling alone in remote areas of Baja are a teensy bit higher than just time and money, and I've decided to give it a little more thought.

For now, Super-Epic Super-Pacific: Baja Edition is on hold, and we're planning Super-Epic Super-Pacific: Somewhere-In-The-Western-United States Edition

It'll be fun to see where we end up.