It was another beautiful day in La Misión as I tacked up Tattoo, preparing for the fall cabalgata—a day-long trail ride through the valley fueled by burritos, tequila, and the company of a hundred vaqueros. One by one, riders trickled into the ranch, meeting the horses they’d rented for the day to join in the spectacle. Casual conversations filled the air, and I found myself chatting with a rider about work. At the time, I lived in Rosarito and rode my motorcycle to San Diego for my job. As soon as the word “motorcycle” floated out, a rather handsome sir who had just hopped out of a silver troca sauntered on over with a smirk on his face. “Did I just hear the word ‘mootorcyclee’??” Not only was this handsome sir a horse rider, but he also rode motorcycles! As I secured bottles of vino against my saddle—must-have refreshments for any ride—we kept chatting. Soon, it was time to set off for the cabalgata. The next eight hours were a blur of riding, eating burritos, sipping vino, and mingling with vaqueros. By the time we trotted back to the ranch, Handsome-Troca-Sir and I were practically BFFs. He was the first friend I made in Baja who, like me, lived there but worked across the border. When we slid off our horses and hobbled toward our cars, we decided to grab tacos for dinner. The sunset cast a golden glow over the highway as my miata raced his troca to our taco spot, both of us grinning like fools the whole way. In the weeks that followed, life became a blend of motorcycle rides and galloping horses on the beach. I invited him to join me on a horseback camping adventure from La Misión to Valle de Guadalupe—totally a test—and to my surprise, he accepted. The trip was three days and two nights of trekking to and through Baja’s wine country, our clothes and camping gear packed into saddle bags. On the first night, under the stars just a few yards from our horses, Handsome-Troca-Sir asked me to be his girlfriend. It was disgustingly romantic, and I happily said yes. The End… Kind of.

It was Thanksgiving week, one year before the cabalgata. My sister Sabrina and I had driven down to Baja California, Mexico, for our first adventure in the wineries of Valle de Guadalupe. Of course, no trip of mine would be complete without a horsey excursion, so I’d found a ranch by the beach that offered trail rides. When we arrived, we were paired up with horses that matched our riding experience and introduced to the rest of the group. There were about six other riders joining us that day, including a handsome sir in aviator glasses who had pulled up in a silver troca... We exchanged polite nods as he and his friends joined the group, but our paths didn’t cross much beyond that. The ride was stunning—winding trails through the estuary and an adrenaline filled gallop down the sunny beach. Looking back now, it’s funny to think about how close we were without knowing it. Fate has a sneaky way of setting the stage for what’s to come, even if we don’t realize it at the time.