Southern Exposure

Monday, December 1 2008

We didn’t waste any time getting on the road this morning. Once we were past the city of Tecomán and the major highway that led to the city of Guadalajara, the traffic disappeared and we had the road to ourselves. After so much time behind trucks and driving over topes, it was liberating to face an open road.

The Sierra Madre mountains come right to the sea in this part of Mexico. The sharp pointed peaks shine green in the sunlight, and often terminate abruptly in jagged brown rock cliffs falling to the ink blue ocean below. Through these hills our newly beloved Hwy 200 twists and turns its way down the coast. With so little traffic in either direction, the ride is a real pleasure.

The rhythm of the road becomes familiar. Wind up a hill towards the coast, a sharp turn to the left around the edge of the hill, and then wind down into the newly revealed valley. These valleys are flood plains with shallow river beds, usually densely filled with palm trees right to the edge of the beach. The road winds in to the base of the valley, where there is either a bridge or a sharp right turn leading into the run up the side of the next hill. There is mile after mile, or perhaps by now I should be saying kilometer after kilometer, of this beautiful road. Every time we come around the sharp left turn we’re greeted with a new ocean vista.

I had opted not to purchase the Mexico maps for my GPS because Garmin did not sell maps for any countries past Mexico. I chose to get used to navigating off of paper maps sooner rather than later. The GPS does have a base map with major highways, but I have found it to be of only the most limited value. It generalizes the road broadly, and I have found at least one serious error in it. It’s fun to compare reality with the base map, especially on a road like 200. The blue line above represents reality versus the boring red line of the base map.

We arrived in Caleta de Campos in the early afternoon. We chose the 2nd hotel we stopped at. Our room had an ocean view overlooking the lighthouse and the coast, all for about $15. We were the only tenants in the hotel and it was a guilty pleasure having such a great view for so little money.

Caleta de Campos had been described as a wild west town in our guide book, but alas, the streets were now paved and there were no horses to be seen. The saving grace of the wild west notion was a proper horse tackle shop, selling saddles, ropes, boots and various other supplies I have no idea how to use. The main street was wide, and covered in streamers that fluttered pleasantly in the ocean breeze. The festival of the Virgin of Guadalupe is this week, and the towns along the coast are ready to celebrate.

After some misdirected searching, we found our way down the hill to the small cove that held the town’s main beach. We went for a walk and Inna went for a swim. We’re told this is a popular winter surfing spot, but we didn’t see anything more daring than a few boogie boarders. The waves had a shape, but the break was shallow, which Inna found out the hard way leads to a lot of churning water.

We settled in at one of the ubiquitous restaurants beach restaurants for our dinner. Inna tried fish prepared ‘a la diabla’, when meant breaded and spicy. It was very tasty, just the right amount of spiciness. She also had a coconut drink right out of the the fruit shell – it’s a local specialty here and very cheap – only 10 pesos, about a dollar. A bicycle vendor pulled up selling cups of cooked corn with cream and hot sauce. He was swarmed with buyers, so we gave it a try. Neither of us understood the popularity.

Later that night I walked down to the beach. The guide book had said the water was very luminescent at night here, but I didn’t see any of it. Zero for 2 from the book for this town. I greatly enjoy stargazing, and this trip has been a real treat in that regard. We rarely stay near cities, so each night after the sunset the stars give a fabulous display. This night in particular was very dark with the moon just a slice in the sky. The sound of the surf makes a great soundtrack for stargazing.

Sunday, November 30, 2008

We awoke early to search for breakfast. Since it was too early for out of town tourists to have arrived, none of the restaurants were open yet. We returned to the room to do some reading and packing, and then went back into town at 9. The employees had showed up, but they were still not serving. Down at the very end of the street we found the one restaurant ready for business. Fortunately for us, this was also the restaurant that Evan worked and fished for.

We had decided overnight that these were the kind of opportunities to take advantage of, so we were set to spend the first half of the day snorkeling, but then head out in the afternoon. This town is very dull after dark, and even if we only rode for a few hours, it would be a few hours we didn’t have to ride tomorrow.

Evan was a very cool guy, with the best English we’d come across in many days. He was clearly a guy with hustle, and everyone in town seemed to know him. I heard a “Hey bro” while we were eating breakfast, and I turned because who else would be expected to answer to that? He wanted to show me the fish that had been caught this morning as it was being cleaned. We arranged for him to take us out not too far from shore, to a small group of rocks where we could snorkel while he worked.

He took care of getting us snorkel gear, and once the tide had gone out a bit, we were off. A friend would take us to the rocks, drop us off, and then return to pick us up later. The boat we were using had just come in from with a nice catch of lobster from the island area. The boat ride lasted all of about 5 minutes, and we were in the water and the boat was gone. Evan had an inner tube with a dive catch bag attached to it. We could hang on to it to take breaks as needed.

The water was probably about 20 feet deep where we were snorkeling and clear. The fish were the same kind here, but larger. I had been scuba certified years ago so I was very comfortable diving down, but Inna had trouble clearing her ears. This eventually became a problem as she got water in her ear and could no longer dive down. The imbalance in her ear was making her a bit dizzy so Evan & I swam her into shore. I went back out with Evan for another short stint as he searched for shells and clams. The lobster were already cleaned out by the previous users of the boat. I didn’t last too long out there. After swimming in, out, and back in, the combined 2 hours of swimming wore me out. Sitting on a motorcycle all day is not a cardio workout.

As we walked back into town, we chatted further with Evan. He made his money managing apartments in town, and by selling fish and lobster to the restaurants. At one point he had tried his hand at professional surfing. He was a funny guy, with good stories and insight into the life of the town. He prepared some of the clams for Inna, as fresh as it gets, but I still won’t touch them. He demonstrated to Inna how to make a skin cream by scraping some mother of perl from the inside of the shell with a knife and adding some lime juice to make a creamy concoction that helps heal scars of all sorts.

After saying our goodbyes and cleaning up, we were ready to leave. Fatima, the young niece at our hotel, was adorable as ever. She made Inna a little collage-card showing her & I from cutouts from a magazine. She helped us pack the bikes and we bought her a little bracelet from one of the wandering beach vendors. We were off further south, as always.

We rode for a few hours, and as the sun was setting we came into the town of Armería. It was an industrial town on the highway, lacking any charisma. We stayed on the hotel on the highway at the entrance to the town. I initially negotiated a price of about $18 for the room, and while it was better than some, it was near the bottom of the list so far. It was tiny, and very stuffy. While a grandmother stayed behind the counter of the 24 hour convenience store attached to the hotel, her 11 or 12 year old grandson and his posse took care of showing us our room choices. He arranged for us to lock the bikes in a courtyard behind the hotel so they wouldn’t be visible from the freeway. Strangely by the time we had to pay the price was down to 150 pesos ($11), our cheapest yet.

We began to walk into town for dinner, but it was sketchy, so we turned back to eat at the taco stand/restaurant next door to the hotel we had initially passed on. The guy running the taco stand turned out to have lived in the states for 10 years. He had lived in California and Ft. Lauderdale, and still had two daughters in the San Jose area. He had been born in this down, and had returned to take care of his mother when she fell ill. He had remarried and was working 6 days a week from 3pm to 3am at the taco stand while he helped raise his new wife’s teenage daughter. The tacos were as good as the conversation. I really savor meeting people and hearing their stories on this trip; it’s the best insight into a people and culture you can get.

We didn’t sleep very well that night, as the road noise was loud. A train went by very slowly in the night what felt like 10 feet from the door to our room. The long rhythmic vibrations whoomp whoomp whoomp of the huge diesel engines gave me strange dreams about alien motherships landing. We were both happy to be leaving this town in the morning.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

We awoke in our bungalow to another sunny morning. We both had slept great to the sounds of the surf. Our next destination was Tenacatita, a name we can never remember or pronounce correctly. These are going to be some of the easier days of this trip for us, as we’re trying to savor this stretch of the coastline. The ride was only 35 miles to Tenacatita and we arrived in the early afternoon.

The layout of the town was very simple. There was a partly paved, partly dirt road following the bay along the beach, and on the beach side of the road were restaurants. Apparently the tradition in this part of Mexico is to name the restaurant after yourself, so each restaurant had an identical Corona sponsored sign with the proprietor’s name underneath. The sign seems to be the only differentiator. The other side of the road was more sparsely populated and was strictly abarrotes, which literally means groceries but in reality means a convenience store with some produce.

For once, finding a hotel was easy. Our hotel, Hotel Los Amigos, occupied its own street one street back from the main beach street. The owner was a very friendly and helpful old man. The room had air conditioning, which is always extremely welcome, and was clean and comfortable. The niece of the owner was visiting, and she was just the cutest little six year old. She followed us everywhere around the hotel and asked questions.

We quickly unpacked and headed towards the beach. The owner recommended one restaurant and said dropping his name would give us a discount. We had a nice lunch and people watched on the beach. Since it was Saturday, it was busy. In this part of the country busy means maybe 100 people. The draw is from towns as far as 3 hours away in Guadalajara. We had read that this town had great snorkeling, but on the main beach we didn’t see anyone doing it. We asked our hotel manager and he told us where to rent the gear, that if we walked down the road over a small hill, there was another small beach that sheltered a reef.

We rented our gear, and hit the water. The signs said this was the biggest reef in the state of Jalisco. It wasn’t huge, but the water was shallow and there was a great show of tropical fish. We saw all sorts of colorful triggers, angel fish, gar, and wrasses. The fish seemed oblivious to us as schools of fish would just swim around us. I even managed to spot a few eels hiding under overhangs. It was a beautiful way to spend an afternoon. The Pacific is so warm this far south you don’t think twice about diving in. I don’t have Inna’s Russian cold water endurance for the Seattle waters so it’s a real treat for me to be able to swim freely.

If you were to tour British Columbia right now, I don’t think you would find a single retiree. We have witnessed a great exodus from the frozen north. I can’t begin to count the number of RVs we have seen with BC tags. This small beach sheltered by the reef was completely dominated by RVs, the majority from BC. They are quite a community, barbecuing together, having cocktail hours, sharing RV related tips and tricks. They were floating in a great circle in the water chatting as we snorkeled past. We asked one women how long they were parked for and she replied: “The winter.” Considering the alternative of cold, darkness, rain and snow they made be on to something. I had previously viewed the entire RV living concept with a bit of derision, but the ones we have seen in Mexico so far really do seem to be living the good life.

On our walk back to the hotel with our snorkeling gear, a young Mexican man named Evan greeted us and began to chat with us about snorkeling. He told us that if we would stick around tomorrow, he’d take us out in a boat to do more snorkeling while he went diving for lobster and clams. We harbored a bit of distrust towards strangers who offer great deals, so we didn’t accept the offer outright, but he told us where to meet him the next morning if we were interested.

We cleaned up at the hotel and then took our now customary sunset walk on the beach. Yes, this part of the trip is a rough life. All of these beach sunsets really wear you out. The sun had set by 7 pm, and as we walked back to town for dinner, we saw that every single restaurant had closed and the staff were gone. We discovered that Tenacatita is an anti-vampire town. Once the sun sets, all life ceases and it’s a ghost town. We walked the entire strip looking for dinner, but it was quiet and dark. A Frenchman and his family pulled up in their imported RV. In a sign of the times, his first question was “WiFi Internet?” and then “Are there any restaurants?”. There was one restaurant at the end that seemed reluctantly willing to stay open and serve some food, but we’d already accepted the idea of skipping dinner and retired for the night.

Wednesday November 26 to Friday, November 28

The ferry ride from Baja to Mazatlan was uneventful. We had splurged on a cabin, with the hopes that we could get a good night’s sleep and use that to power us away from the tourist trap of Mazatlan as rapidly as possible. The cabin was surprisingly plush, with nice beds and a bathroom with a shower. In fact, I was surprised at how nice the passenger area of the ship was in general. It felt more like a cruise ship than a ferry. The Puget Sound ferry system, while nice enough, had lowered my expectations when I thought of a ferry.

The ferry plodded across the sea at a stately 31 km/h, according to the GPS. If I had known the distance to be traveled, I would have released before I set my alarm clock that there was no way the ferry was going to arrive at the scheduled 8 AM. I’m sure the crew knew that, but they feigned ignorance when I had asked them. Very kind of them to wake us up and announce over the PA at 6:30AM that the restaurants and cafeteria were open. We got up about an hour later, packed up our things, laid out the riding gear, and went to get some coffee. If I had known the ferry wasn’t going to arrive until 11AM I would have slept until much later. I’m a big fan of sleeping.

We debarked with little drama, and drove through the lovely industrial sector of Mazatlan. The heat was about the same as Baja but the humidity was stifling. Compared to Baja, it felt like we were wearing lead blankets fresh out of the oven. Poor Inna really seems to be struggling with heat in her legs. Her boots seem to retain more heat than mine, and we can’t tell if it’s the BMW Santiago pants or some aspect of the KLR plumbing dumping heat onto her knees. Slow speeds are really hard on her.

It took us a few beats to find access to the freeway south. At this point we were still planning on taking 40 up to Durango to see Zacatecas and the interior colonial towns. This had been an agonizing decision, as sun starved Seattlites the pull of remote beaches along the coast was strong. Navigation wasn’t helped by the Garmin basemap being just completely wrong. It showed 40 to be north of Mazatlan while the paper map showed it to the south. I had already seen how worthless the basemap was, but I didn’t expect it to be so grossly incorrect. We headed south and after some hesitation we started up 40.

I can’t emphasize enough what a great motorcycle road 40 is. It starts out with gentle curves, but once you reach the proper foothills of the Sierra Madres, it turns into a roller coaster. It was curve after curve after curve. Rarely could I count to 3 on a straight before another curve started. I tried counting for one mile and counted 17 turns. While I was enjoying the ride, looming over our heads were the distance and the clock. We have a set rule of not riding after dark, and the late arrival of the ferry had really cost us prime riding hours. I think it was around 40 miles up the road, with 3 hours of light and 160 miles left, that we accepted defeat and headed back down.

It was heartbreaking to give up on such an awesome road, but safety always comes first for us. The thought of lying on a beach the next day also greatly eased the pain. We headed down and the road felt much more dangerous. The majority of the big trucks were headed up the mountain, and they had little regard for those pesky strips cluttering up the road. They were easy enough to avoid, but it made us appreciate the decision not to do so many more miles so late in the day.

We headed back south and decided to spend the money and use the cuesta (expensive) toll roads to make up for all of the lost time that day. They’re great roads and we can cruise at our max KLR speed of 70, but it’s ridiculous how expensive they are. We spent as much on the toll road as a hotel. We rode and as dusk began to settle, we exited to the town of Acaponeta.

We rode into town, checked a few hotels, and the only hotel with suitable parking was on the road into town. We weren’t sure if it was a hotel at first or a police station. There were armed guards out front, and the central courtyard was full of Federale vehicles and men. Inna asked the men out front if it really was a hotel and they gave the affirmative. We parked in front of our room and for one night, had little fear about bike security. There must have been some sort of jefé staying there to require so many guards.

Acaponeta is a charming town. The central plaza, while under construction like everything else in Mexico, is a beautiful wide open space with a few statues and a central gazebo. Restaurants and shops surrounded the plaza, and it was bustling with activity. This was the first town we’d stayed in Mexico that really felt warm. The town seemed to be a thriving community and the central plaza with filled with children and adults socializing. Everyone seemed to be out for a stroll. We had our dinner at a restaurant on the plaza and unexpectedly had perhaps the best guacamole we’ve ever had.

It was great to sleep in a bed that didn’t rock with the ocean that night, and we overindulged the next morning. It was a slow start. We went into the center of town, and ended up in the central market. It really turns my head to see a pickup truck with two huge bulls in the back drive by. Welcome to the mainland. We had some juices made up, which they served to us in plastic bags with a straw poking out. Very clever.

By the time we were back on the road, the heat was in full force. We put riding gear on only at the last possible second before starting the motor. We blasted south on the cuesta road again, but soon exited because the expense was just too great ($15 for two bikes every 40 miles!). We took Hwy 15 down to Tepic, then headed to the coast on Hwy 200. The road south of Tepic was beautiful. The countryside was filled with farmland nestled between large, verdant hills. We could see rain to the east ahead of us, but the road always seemed to turn away from it at the last moment, so we dodged having to dig out of rain gear.

The road turned from rolling hills to farmland, and traffic became a bigger problem. The lines behind trucks became 7-8 cars deep, and passing became much more time consuming. This, combined with the heat, led to more than a little frustration. Somewhere during the day we had let the ‘hurry’ bug infect us, and we stressed about making miles rather than enjoying the scenery while we were going slow. We need to stop falling into that mental trap.

We rode through Puerta Vallarta and it didn’t make much of an impression on us other than terrible traffic. The beaches look great, the crowds not so much. I would rate it much higher than Cancun though. Once past there, the trucks seemed to disappear and we were riding at a more pleasant pace. By the time it was getting dark, we were near Tomatlán, so we headed 5 miles east to rest for the night. We were so close to where we wanted to be it hurt to stop.

Tomatlán is a nice enough town. We made up for our toll roads by having $5 worth of tacos for dinner and stayed at the cheapest hotel we’d yet stayed at. It was 170 pesos (US$12) and had a very secure courtyard for the bikes. The quality of the room was in line with the price. It was warmer in the room than outside, so we just left the door open until we turned the lights out. The sink, shower, and toilet were all in one stall. If you were a guy, you could probably manage to use them all at once. The room overlooked a popular road in town, so we had noise late into the night.

I have to mention something I found hysterical. I’m used to people in the US rolling down the street with cars pumping bass, either to dance music or hip hop. We heard some cars approaching us while we ate our tacos and could feel the heavy bass in typical fashion. It wasn’t until they were close enough to hear the treble that we could hear they were somehow extracting all of that bass from traditional Mexican crooning ballads. It was an excellent twist against my expectations.

We slept poorly that night. The church bells ring at 6:30 to wake up everyone up, which is very quaint as long as you don’t live there and prefer not to get up at 6:30 every day. We rose to make our early start for a tiny run down the coast. We had three beach towns we were going to check out within 50 miles, so we hoped to settle on one quickly and hit the beach. We came across Punta Perula first, and rode down the dirt road to it, only to cross a paved road along the coast. Where did that road come from ?? We rode to the beach, and it was beautiful. Quiet with a great surf break in a small bay sheltering some green islands.

Our next stop was Chamela, which turned out to be quite challenging. The signs point down dirt roads that don’t go anywhere. We kept ending up in people’s back yards. We gave up on finding Playa Chamela and headed back to Punta Perula. We noticed one more dirt road sign with a hotel indicator and gave it a shot. At the end there were a hotel featuring beachfront bungalows right on the beach. Although it was a bit budget busting, we splurged and decided to stay for the night. Neither of us has ever had a room so close to the ocean before. It was a gorgeous sunny day and the water that perfect warm but refreshing temperature.

As we sail closer to the coast of mainland Mexico, I bid Baja farewell. The deserts have been spectacular. As we head into warmer and more humid climates, I think I will miss the relative comfort of the dry desert heat. I would advise anyone within striking distance of taking a ride down to at least Cataveña to see the boulder fields and cactus.

I would like to thank the guys at MotosBaja for fixing my bent pannier for free. They played a great joke on me when they got started. He put the pannier on the workbench and just as I was turning away he took a metal hammer and just pounded the workbench as hard and as loud as he could. My eyes must have popped out of my head; I turned around expecting to see him thrashing my poor pannier. Everyone had a good laugh including me. He put the hammer away and used a heavy jack to re expand the pannier from the inside, and it’s as near good as new now. If you’re ever in Baja, stop in and visit these guys, they’re great.

Monday and Tuesday, November 24 and 25

The next day we got up early, had señor Alfonso’s tasty coffee (which he prepared for us every morning by saving it in a termos) and were on our way to La Paz. The ride of about 300 miles was quite boring and exhausting. The scenery could be compared to dry flat deserts of Arizona with short mountain chains blocking the horizon on both sides.

Most of the time you could see the straight road for miles ahead and that would just amplify your desire to be done riding and off the road and the bike. It is on these straight endless roads when you feel the nagging pain in your back, shoulders and neck.

Half way to La Paz in Insurgentes we ran into two adventure riders from San Diego whose bikes we noticed in Santa Rosalia and had a short conversation with them. They have already been down to Cabo and were on the way back north. We were jealous of their cool bikes – a KTM and a BMW – they are definitely much faster than ours. Matt and I disagree on their names, so we won’t post it here. Keep in touch, guys!

The road seemed to last forever, but we finally reached La Paz at about 4:30 pm.

It took us about 40 minutes to find a suitable hotel. Matt and I are still trying to figure out the best strategy for getting around an unknown town and finding a hotel that would fit our budget. The one disadvantage of our Rough Guide travel books is that they don’t rate the hotels by price. We try to go by the book descriptions, but it usually takes a few trials to find a good value hotel that is not completely “ghetto.” Trying to maneuver the bikes around unknown narrow city streets, looking for street name signs (which are very rare), having one person get off the bike to check the hotel rates, makes things a bit difficult and we become impatient with each other fast as we try to figure out the best plan of action. We finally found the right place. Matt parked his bike on the street and went to deal with the receptionist who wanted the pay upfront. The bike seemed to sit pretty steady, but a minute later fell down on it’s right side against the curb, bending heavily the right pannier. (I dropped my bike on the right side earlier that day too when we stopped for gas at the station, though no severe damage for me). Matt was visibly frustrated as we were unloading, but I was pretty sure we would be able to fix it the next day at some welding shop.

To make things even more difficult, when I asked the receptionist about the ferry schedule to Mazatlan, which we were supposed to take the next day, he told us the ferries have been broken for a few months now and they anticipate to renew the service only about two months from now. That meant we would have to take the 3-4 day ride back to Ensenada on the same road we came down. We almost lost it! Thinking about riding that road back was more than either of us could handle at that time.

We unloaded the luggage and ran to the ferry office which was mentioned in our book as fast as we could. The building looked like it has not been open for a few months. What he said must be true we thought, though deep down we refused to believe it. We found an Internet cafe and checked out the ferry website. It mentioned nothing about the ferries being out of service. Frustrated, we came back to the hotel and asked the receptionist to call the ferry office. He did so (for $5 pesos), and we found out that ferries in fact are in service and there is one leaving the next day at 8 pm. It was a great relief tinged with irritation that the receptionist had caused us such a panic. Though its worth mentioning that the next day a motorcyclist from Vancouver BC who was staying at our hotel told us that the ferries were indeed out of service as recently as four days prior, and was very surprised to hear that they were back in service as he had to rethink his route due to the ferry unavailability earlier.

The next morning we went to the ferry office (different than the one mentioned in the book) and without any problems got our ferry tickets. It turned out the be much more expensive than we anticipated for two people and two bikes – $485. (The prices went up November 20). We also decided to upgrade to a private cabin vs a seat in a main salon in order to get a good night sleep and have a productive day of riding the next day as neither of us wanted to stay in the overly touristic Mazatlan.

Matt was able to fix his pannier for free at a bike shop in the morning. In the afternoon we wondered around the city, which is quite large by Baja standards, with a happening downtown, and a pleasant and not so touristy waterfront. We arrived at the ferry terminal 3 hours in advance, boarded the ferry without any problems, and were quite amazed at how nice, clean and upscale our room was, bigger than some hotel rooms we were staying at (and it even had a shower!). And the sheer size of the ferry, which has a few restaurants, two bars with dj booths and a dancing floor, a swimming pool (albeit not functioning), a game room, a kids play room, and a few shops, is quite inpressive. It’s like a small cruise ship, though the only people on it were truck drivers and a few random travelers, including us.

As the ferry took off, we said final good-byes to Baja and went to our cabin to have a picnic type dinner and celebrate our first milestone adventure over a bottle of wine. Thanks for the recommendation, Ant! Tomorrow we will be on mainland. We are yet to decide if we go along the Pacific coast or venture into the central part of Mexico to see the old colonial towns.

Saturday and Sunday, November 22 and 23

From Santa Rosalia we only had about 40 miles to go to Mulegé which was our weekend destination where we planned to spend a day enjoying the beaches of the Sea of Cortez. We had a leisurely morning around town, spent a few hours at the Internet cafe and came back to the hotel to pack, only to discover that we had missed the check out time by an hour. I made a deal with the hotel guy by giving him $2 dollars, which he gladly accepted and we were almost on our way. Right before we got on our bikes, he came up to us with a cute, mid-size short brown-haired dog on a leash. He told us that the dog somehow fell out of an American RV and was left behind by the owners. The dog had a collar with a number to call in case it was lost, so we spent the next half an hour trying to make the the 1-800 call to US, with no luck. We finally called Matt’s parents, gave them all the information and the location of the dog, hoping that it will be reunited with it’s owner, but knowing that the the chances were pretty slim. We later found out (from the parents’ communications) that the dog’s name was Lucy and her owner was a veterinarian who was traveling in Mexico performing veterinary services pro bono. We very much hope that Lucy finds her family soon.

Mulegé is a small village-town with about 5000 residents, with some of the best beaches on the Sea of Cortes within a 10 mile distance. We settled in the charming Hotel Hacienda, ran by a very genial and hospitable señor Alfonso. He has owned the hotel for 44 years (and married to his señorita for 54!). He has five sons and one daughter, all highly educated professionals. We were probably one of only three residents at the hotel. (The tourist season is just starting and the business has been down because of the deteriorating US economy). We were able to park the bikes right in the courtyard of the hotel, which is always a big plus.

In the evening, we rode to the beach where we had a very romantic candlelight dinner on the beach – our table was located literally five feet from the water. The restaurant was owned by (you guessed it!) an American couple, and we found out there was a sizable community of American retirees and American RV travelers in the area.

The next morning we rode along the coast for about 15 minutes to a remote sandy beach, and spent the whole afternoon frolicking in the the sun. I love days like this, nothing to do or worry about, just enjoy the calming sound of the rolling surf and feel the warmth of the sun on your skin.

Friday, November 21

Today was one of those days I dreamed about before we started this trip. It was a day of near perfect motorcycling, riding through the central deserts of Baja, surrounded by an infinite expanse of cactus.

We knew we were planning on putting in some miles today, so we got up extra early. We had breakfast at Mama Espinoza’s and managed to be on the road by 8:30. Somehow we just can’t get our morning preparations to take less than two hours.

It was a beautiful sunny day and Hwy 1 outside of El Rosario quickly turned into a winding rollercoaster through the desert mountains. It was the kind of road a motorcyclist lives for. Wide open terrain, sweeping turns, and rolling hills. The sky was that perfect shade of blue to complement the brown and arid terrain. Riding through this terrain is a great way to start a day.

I’ve ridden or driven through many of the deserts of the United States before, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a density of cactus before. There were three or four different types: the “classic”, thick branching cactus, tall, skinny xmas tree like cactus, squat and thick with red needles on top, and gnarly twisting branching cactus.

We didn’t make too much progress in the early miles – we kept stopping to take pictures. I think we made 25 miles in the first hour of riding. The landscape seemed to become more beautiful around every corner.

We came to one section of road a little before Cataviña. The landscape was littered with boulders. They were scattered everywhere with some built into large piles. I don’t really understand how something like this forms and would like to learn about the geology of this area. It was stunning to see, ruined only by the insistence of every passerby to write their name in spray paint on the boulders alongside the road.

We decided to take a short detour down a sandy road to immerse ourselves in the boulder field. We probably went 1/4 mile down the road and parked the bikes so we could walk around. I scrambled amongst the boulders, seeking higher ground and snapping pictures. It’s a shame about the timing of this encounter. It would have been a magical place to have a picnic.

The sandy road was quite the washboard in the wheel tracks. I decided to try my luck riding in the center only to quickly have the front wheel push in the sand. The bike started to tip over and I did a walk off dismount of the bike and it settled on its left side. Luck tried, luck failed. The blue bike is now evenly balanced with a fall on the right and left sides. The bike wasn’t damaged; the soft sand that was the problem in the first place nicely cushioned the bike’s fall. My ego is doubly bruised. I think the crash bars will need a minor adjustment but this kind of thing is what I had in mind when I built the bike up.

We got back on the main road and passed through Cataviña. It was a small town if I use the word town generously. There was one or two restaurants and two hotels. In retrospect we should have just called it a day right there and stayed the night. The desert surrounding it was enchanting, and opportunities to enjoy a landscape like this won’t come often in life.

We officially entered the Valle de los Cirios, Valley of the Cactus, shortly thereafter and it was a strange beginning. That particular valley seemed to have less cactus than any of the ones preceding it. It’s a large nature preserve, and after 10 miles the cactus returned in full strength. As we crossed over another set of hills, we entered a rain shadow. The landscape was drier and there were large open spaces of just dirt or sand. We saw a few mirages beckoning us into the landscape.

After nearly 100 miles of riding through hills, it flattened out and the road became straighter. It reminded more of West Texas. The riding wasn’t as exciting, but it was still a beautiful day. The temperature fluctuated between 80 and 90, but I was comfortable in my riding gear. Low humidity was a real plus.

After 200 miles, and very close to Guerrero Negro, our goal for the day, we made it to the first gas station since El Rosario. It’s fortunate the KLRs have such big gas tanks as we could have gone another 50 miles or so. We soon went through our first of three military checkpoints of the day, and at the first one they made us stop to show our visas. The other two later in the day just waved us through.

We crossed the 28th parallel, the border between Baja California and Baja California Sur. It’s a good milestone for us. We made it to Guerrero Negro at 2pm, hours ahead of schedule. We rode through town and it wasn’t particularly inviting. Just a few long roads flanked with small shops. It was only a few miles from the ocean and it seemed strange they didn’t put the town near the water. It would have made it far more inviting.

We were early and not excited to spend the rest of the day there, so we made a snap decision and decided to move on to San Ignacio, which was about 60 miles further. There is a naming convention to Mexican towns I don’t understand. This would be the 2nd town where we found two towns close to each other being distinct but having the same or nearly the same name on the map. The guidebook did not make the situation clearer.

We rode east, as this stretch of one went clear from the west coast of Baja to the east. San Ignacio was in the middle. When we finally reached it, it was 3:30 and it was only 60 more miles to Santa Rosalia on the east coast. We made our second snap decision of the day and decided to push through to the east coast, which would give us a nearly open weekend. Our goal for tomorrow had been Mulegé, 60 kms south of Santa Rosalia. Spending in the night in Santa Rosalia would be a short ride on Saturday and we would be taking the day off on Sunday.

The sun was now casting golden light on the landscape, which made the mostly straight road more beautiful. For many miles a volcano called Vulcan Tres Virgines loomed before us. Judging from the peaks it never erupted. Once past, the road descended quickly to the coast. It was the kind of road they would never build in the US and the kind you never catch at the right time. It was a steep but not too steep grade wrapping around the hills until reaching the bottom and the extremely welcome Sea of Cortez.

Another few miles down the coast and we were in Santa Rosalia, a busy little town that was founded by the French to mine and smelt copper. We road through town and priced a few hotels before settling on one at the edge of town with good parking for the bikes.

We rode 365 miles today, the longest day Inna and I have ever ridden together. Except for the last 50 miles, the distance flew by and we were surprised at how many miles we had done without it seeming like a grind.

Thursday, November 20

Today was the first full day of riding in Mexico. Last night we studied the map and the travel book to figure out our route in Baja. We’ve heard that Mulege, a small village on the site of an ancient mission in the southeastern part of Baja, is a nice place to spend a day or so soaking up the sun on the beaches of the Sea of Cortes. Judging by the speed of today it will take us about three days to get there.

This morning we had a fun encounter with two adventure riders from Seattle. In a comical circumstance, these were the guys we “blew off” yesterday when we were passing through Ensenada. We could not figure out why there were all these dirt bikes and dune buggies on the streets, and as we moved slowly through the traffic, two guys on the sidewalk were running after us, yelling, making signs with their hands, and taking our pictures. Unfortunately, neither of us could hear anything because of the ear plugs and the music. We waved, and kept on going. This morning, as we ate our mini mart breakfast outside of the motel, we saw two riders on the road, waved at them, and to our surprise they turned around and drove up to us. It turned out that these were the guys from yesterday, all geared up on their V-Stroms. We found out that they rode from Seattle to watch the Baja 1000 off road race, which was starting tomorrow. They tried to get our attention yesterday, because they saw our ADV (Adventure Rider) stickers and Washington State license plates. We talked for a short while, got invited to join them to see the race but we had to keep on going South and they had to get back to Ensenada.

We only had about 200 miles to go today to El Rosario, which is a small town before a long stretch of desert nothingness. It took us much longer than we expected, mainly because the traffic kept on getting stuck behind large trucks and it took effort to get in front of the line, only to get stuck behind another trail of cars 20 miles down the road. One time we tried to get around a line of stopped traffic by riding on the shoulder which got us into a sandy dirt road. Matt’s tire got in pretty deep at one point, and I was sweating it as it was my first time riding in the sand. We decided not to get too adventurous. (There were a bunch of cars stuck in the sand ahead of us, and guys with shovels trying to dig around the tires).

Another time the paved road suddenly ended and we had to ride on the gravel road while the workers were paving the road two feet next to us. I am happy that Matt and I took the dirt riding class before we left on this trip. Now I just have to practice my skills as there will be many more dirt roads ahead.

We stopped by for a quick lunch in a small one road town. Apparently, today is Mexico’s Independence Day, so there were all these festivities going on in the town park. After lunch (where I was stung by a bee), we kept on going through the desert mountainous scenery, sometimes enhanced by the view of the ocean, and finally made it to El Rosario.

The hotel we stopped at seemed extremely cush for this area, we’ve got a king size bed, satellite TV, coffee maker, beautiful shower and a large size adobe room decorated with dark wood beams and artisan furniture. All for only 30 dollars. Better not get used to luxury like this. Tonight we had dinner at Mama Espinoza’s, one of the oldest restaurants in Baja. It has been a Baja 1000 checkpoint for 40 years and the walls are covered in race memorabilia.

Tomorrow we will get up early and head to Guerro Negro. It should be a long ride through the desert. We’ll get an earlier start tomorrow and hopefully traffic will be lighter.

Wednesday, November 19

We finally have begun the trip proper. We arose early today, and actually got on the road at a decent hour without incident. We got off at the last exit before the border and picked up insurance for Mexico.

After reading about all of the border experiences of other travelers, I think we both had a lot of anxiety built up about crossings. Neither had ever taken a vehicle through customs before, so we were expecting quite an ordeal and had only the modest goal of Ensenada for the day.

It’s strange to me that there is no exit process to leaving the US. It’s just all of the sudden you’re off the freeway and you’re in Tijuana. It was easy enough to follow the signs to temporary vehicle importation office. Tijuana is just as beautiful as you’ve heard, a true paradise.

Once at the customs office, I left Inna guarding the bikes and took our mountain of documents and photocopies inside. It was not clear at all where to start, but I was soon pointed to the immigration. I was moving in circles between immigration, the bank, and the aduana (customs). Only the customs officer spoke english, but I was really happy with how much spanish I had retained. I was able to get through the conversations without struggling too much.

The one obstacle I had worried about but had no answer to in advance was importing two vehicles in my name. The customs officer did not like that at all and wouldn’t permit entry. His solution was to sign the bike over to Inna on the spot. I really didn’t know what else to do at this point. It was either sign it over, or go back to the US and magic up a solution. I hovered over that title for a few minutes, but eventually just signed over the title. The customs officer was happy and the rest of the paperwork went through just fine then. I worry this decision will have repercussions at future borders, but only time will tell. The entire process took about an hour and half.

Once we were out of customs and on the road, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I know that’s probably going to be the easiest border of them all, but it was nice to have the experience behind us. It was a nice turning point from endless preparation to riding south along the Pacific Ocean.

We rode the toll road through two tolls, and then decided to get off the toll road because it seemed like a waste of money. The free road turned in from the coast at one point and rode through the hills in the desert, which I quite enjoyed. I’ve always liked desert riding. Riding a ribbon of asphalt through expansive vistas and the sense of open space really strikes a chord in me.

We rode through Ensenada and I don’t really have anything nice to say about it. There were two cruise ships docked there and it just seems like a tourist dump to me. We rode through town, headed south, and as it was about 3 pm, decided to double back to the beach area of La Bufadora. We expected there to be a beach town at the end of this road, but it just went from road into a tourist trap line of stalls before you got to some sort of sea spout in the rocks that we didn’t even bother to look at. We rode back towards the main road where we picked a surprisingly nice little hotel around 4:30. We unpacked the bikes, locked them together, and had an early dinner before retiring.