Senator Obama, congratulations on securing the nomination to be the Democratic candidate for President. In the next few months you must select your running mate, this letter seeks to simplify that task. Your running mate must be a person who unites constituencies within the party, secures support in key and swing states, can contribute to your Presidency, and is prepared to assume the role of President if necessary. I know of only one person within the party who meets those many needs and more. She is a lifelong Democrat, Ivy League educated, and a tireless promoter of social justice. I'm speaking of course of Corey Fake. She's sure to bring to the ticket the votes of women, Asian-Americans, and Brown Alumni; and her life experience all but assure support in Pennsylvania, California, and the crucial swing states of Connecticut, Rhode Island, and New Jersey. For 17 years she has honed her skills in diplomacy tempered by tolerance; and she's the perfect candidate to assist in the transition from the Bush administration - in that she has spent the last 12 years cleaning up after those who sh*t indiscriminately everywhere and over everyone. Tan, restless, and ready; Corey Fake is the woman for the job. We await your call.
I survived the OMC's SheetIron 300, and had an amazing time. Thanks in large part to the support of the SFMC; and especially with a lot of help, instruction, and encouragement from Casey, Stefan, his nephew Max, Chuck, Tegan, Mark, & Ethan. Here's a photo, and there's a set over on Flickr. (http://flickr.com/photos/bholm/sets/72157605159188948/)
No matter how you travel, a road trip down Baja is not a gimme. The road and route make it a relatively easy matter to find your limitations. On a scooter or smaller bike they will be immediately apparent, on something bigger or more rugged you'll have to work harder but your limits can be found in Baja. There's essentially one road and, relative to it's width, not much of that. As a result off-roaders have much more to work with (and have for decades now) but their path isn't obvious or easy and they have my eternal respect.
If you go:
Think about the activities you enjoy, and plan on doing in Baja, and then do some research. For me my favorite places are Mulegé, San Ignacio, and La Paz. We joked about the "Hell Tour" (an itinerary to be recommended to those you dislike) and some of it's stops would include Tijuana, Ensenada, Guerrero Negro, Santa Rosalia, Ciudad Constitucion, and Cabo. Your mileage and taste may vary, and Cabo looks like a great place for a resort vacation, but not for a road trip.
The detour to the border crossing at Tecate was a fantastic call. Highway 3 begins north of Ensenada and travels through beautiful valleys and villages. The road started out a little bumpy, but improved quickly, and the majority of it is as good or better than Highway 1. The entire area is posted as wine country and there are a number of wineries apparently under expansion, renovation, or construction. There are a couple of long high climbs as you approach Tecate, tough on a little scooter but fine for anything larger. The uphill stretch nearest Tecate has a lot of very slow trucks on it, so don't expect to make too much time there. After reaching the outskirts of Tecate we stopped at one last taco stand, and ate delicious fresh asada tacos while we waited for the rest of the group to catch up to us. The border crossing was relatively quick and simple. This would be a great one day road trip; San Diego to Tecate, to Ensenada, and back.
Eat breakfast here (At the end of the side road to the landing strip, en route to Santa Ynes) -> (http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&ie=UTF8&ll=29.728906,-114.705763&spn=0.052472,0.093727&t=h&z=14)
And in Todos Santos.
Learn at least a little Spanish, enough to be polite, introduce yourself, ask someone's name, ask if someone has kids, their names, and how to get the basic services you'll want. Learn your numbers too.
Dollars are accepted, but easy averaging will cause you to lose something on the exchange rate over time. If money's tight get pesos from an ATM or exchange dollars for pesos before you travel.
Tip the gas station attendants.
If you ride:
The two greatest essential things are gasoline and water, the easiest thing to get is beer. Know your route, your mileage, and be prepared to compensate for variations. While you can buy fuel in some locations from roadside barrels, the cost is high and the quality sometimes is questioned. Purified and bottled water is fairly readily available, but carry at least enough to see you through a roadside emergency.
Don't ride alone, maintain visual contact with those with whom you're riding. If you are in an accident or injured you could be invisible from the roadway. If you do have a breakdown or other emergency, never leave the road until you get help or are joined by your buddies.
Cell service is fairly ubitquitous, bring your charger and consider quick-chargers, spare batteries or other power options. Check the roaming rates and data plan rates before you go, turn off unnecessary services or connections while you travel. You can run up a major bill by receiving text or e-mail while on the road.
If you have the luxury of a support vehicle, bring the kitchen sink. Un hombre preparado es mejor que dos.
Don't drive at night, period.
Si Toma No Maneje.
Remember that even if there is a manhole cover it may not always fit or be properly positioned.
Make sure that you're comfortable with all your gear and how you stow it. Become a creature of habit, always putting your keys, passport, wallet etc in the same location - and do a dummy check before you leave anyplace you stop - this will save you time and trouble.
Slow down in populated areas, and watch for stop signs and traffic lights - they are often inconspicuous. In one location on the main drag in Guerrrero Negro there are convenient areas from which to make a u-turn and return to the main road - unfortunately there are "No U-turn" signs concealed behind the palm trees that are directly in front of you. Obey the speed limit and all signs in Ciudad Constitucion and avoid stopping there for anything - even gas. Rumor has it that any parking place in that town is a construction zone, and will cost you $50-$100 US. If in doubt, don't.
We all retired early after our long ride into El Rosario, and we got a fairly early start the next morning, but it took some time to sort out all the gear and get everyone ready for the road. The motorcycles and larger scooters set out first, with Casey, Fritz and me bringing up the rear. The roads north of El Rosario are some very nice riding, the reward for having come up a long sweeping hill on the way south. After passing yet another military checkpoint (and failing yet again to capture it on the helmet cam) the ride slows down a bit, as there are numerous small towns between El Rosario and Ensenada. Despite having to make two gas stops to cover the approximately 175 miles, we arrived in town (at the usual taco stand) only 20 minutes behind the rest of the group. I'd shot a little more helmet-cam here too, inluding the final of 7 military checkpoints - WITH THE LENS CAP ON, must be tired. Eager to make it to the border, we gassed up and moved on ahead of the group and made north for Highway 3 to Tecate.
The detour to the border crossing at Tecate was a fantastic call. Highway 3 begins north of Ensenada and travels through beautiful valleys and villages. The road started out a little bumpy, but improved quickly, and the majority of it is as good or better than Highway 1. The entire area is posted as wine country and there are a number of wineries apparently under expansion, renovation, or construction. There are a couple of long high climbs as you approach Tecate, tough on a little scooter but fine for anything larger. The stretch nearest Tecate has a lot of very slow trucks on it, so don't expect to make too much time there. After reaching the outskirts of Tecate we stopped at one last taco stand, and ate delicious fresh asada tacos while we waited for the rest of the group to catch up to us. The route to La Garita (border) is a bit confusing an convoluted but well posted. The border crossing was quick and painless, the line being about 50 vehicles long and the wait about an hour. The radio updates indicated that the lines in Tijuana were 270 cars long in each lane with 19 lanes open.
The final sign of a successful vacation is your great happiness to be back in your home country; your civil rights restored, language skills far improved, and most things familiar and trusted. We parted some of our company, with Rolf and Mike setting out for Costa Mesa; Chuck, Tegan, and Ryan for Orange County; and Casey, Fritz, Mark, John and me heading to San Diego. The last reward of our itinerary was Campo Road, Highway 94, back into San Diego. Long sweeping mountains roads, through green terrain and, after two weeks on Mexico Highway 1, the width and quality of the road has you feeling that your riding a mile-wide velvet ribbon. Whoever's in charge of re-paving San Francisco's shredded streets could take a refresher course east of San Diego.
Once on the freeway, Fritz guided us into town and to our final budget accommodation. The EZ-8 is conveniently located directly underneath two freeways and adjacent to a railroad track. There's no airport shuttle, but the shuttle for a local exotic dance show makes regular stops in the parking lot. Nothing but the finest for this crew from start to finish. Mark got an earlier flight and departed. We all repeated the drill of off-loading all of the gear into the rooms one last time, and after a beer and a cigar treated ourselves to In-n-Out burgers and an early bedtime.
Now I'm waiting in the airport for my repeatedly delayed flight, but soon will find myself in my favorite company, Corey, Nat & Ethan.
Hi all. We're almost home. We're back at Mama Espinoza's in El Rosario B.C. with only one riding day left. Tomorrow we'll head for the border, crossing at Tecate, and then back into San Diego one day ahead of schedule.
We had our "Modernos Contra Rockeros" ride at the beach in Mulegé, and then spent that evening and the next day in town. We drove to the Mission and took in it's amazing views and admired the finer homes along the river.
Later the SFMC members came into town and we all ate dinner at what had become our favorite local restaurant, Los Equipales. The next day we lazed about, shopped, ate the local date ice cream (good), and then returned to the beach for a boat ride on the bay.
Mark and I took the boat out.
Despite the somewhat windy conditions, and proceeded to have an adventure that I'll tell more about when we get home. Suffice to say for now that a little bailing was involved.
Today we'd planned to take a short day (80 miles to San Ignacio) and extend it slightly to give us a jump on Friday (180 miles to Guerrero Negro.) Despite a late start we arrived in Guerrero Negro about 1pm and were unimpressed by the prospect of a long evening in that town.
We decided to press on to Catavina, and thought we might even be able to make it back to El Rosario before nightfall. The winds that pounded us on the coast between Mulegé and Santa Rosalia had relented, or were diminished to a minimal cross wind. That didn't last, and halfway to Catavina we were met with a cold head wind that slowed us down, cratered my gas mileage, and froze us to the bone. We pressed on, chasing the sunset and managed to watch it set and re-rise three or four times as we chased it across each successive rise. At the palest edge of twilight we could make out the few small lights of El Rosario a couple of miles away, and we arrived, shivering, just moments after dark. The ride between Catavina and El Rosario is one of the most fun and beautiful in Baja, and we enjoyed it despite the conditions.
That's about it, tomorrow I'll shoot some more helmet cam footage, and we hope the wait in Tecate is better than in Tijuana. I'll fill in the gaps, embellish with some additional details, and provide some side stories after I've been able to enjoy being home with Corey, Nat & Ethan for a few days.
I've got a nice little video clip of our ride at the beach, but it'll have to wait, it will take forever to upload. We had a windy day on La Playa, and then a group dinners with the members of the SFMC in town. Now we're headed back to the beach, and tomorrow out to Guerrero Negro - if we make good time I'll post an entry and some pictures there.
You know that you've entered the sweet spot of a vacation when you struggle to remember the date or what day of the week it is - nice. Another sure sign is when whatever or whoever seemed so alien, chaotic, and incomprehensible a week ago begins to become familiar and comfortable - very nice. I'm guessing that the highway down Baja is something like what Route 66 once was, often remote, two lanes, with the towns and amenities forming slow wide spots on the roadside. It definitely has its charm and convenience, and I've come to like the road a great deal more than the following entry might suggest.
Baja wants to eat old scooters whole. In a long day of riding from La Paz to Mulegé nearly half of the 300+ miles are long straight roads, in three distinct directions (west, then north, then east), and every direction is uphill. Add to that a gusty wind that is everywhere but at your back, and you can see why pistons destroy themselves. This all made for a very, very long day. Fortunately I was able to break up the monotony by blowing out my rear tire on a turn, and running out of gas in the mountains - take your breaks where you get them.
The champion of today's long haul was Rolf. Our last evening in La Paz he came down with the "turista" and was laid low for a few hours. After a dose of Immodium and some sleep he started the next day ready to ride - at 72 he's an Iron Man. We made our way, being careful to slip through Ciudad Constitucion unmolested, and fighting the wind. For a few stretches I drafted Rolf's more powerful bike, though the best draft of all was from a beefy armored car that made the most perfect slipstream I've ever found - unfortunately it, like most things on the road, outran me fairly quickly.
I've long said that the upside of traveling by scooter is that you're compelled to stop for gas, water, or rest many times and in many small places, ones that you'd normally blow right by in a car. The highlight of our long day came early, with a stop at Km marker 114 and the small roadside restaurant there. Restaurant-Rossy is modest but well stocked. The congenial proprietor is Jesuvio Javier-Alvarez. Despite our limited Spanish we had a warm conversation. He's had the restaurant for 30 years, and behind it he farms 160 acres of garbanzo beans with his wife and three sons. He showed us a sample of his bean plants, explained the system of canals that provide year-round irrigation from the mountains, and proudly described taking his harvest into Ciudad Constitucion where it is sold and exported to Spain. While we talked his wife made us a delicious breakfast of eggs, goat cheese, frijoles, and papas; and we sampled his fried sweet bread, photographed the machaca drying in the far end of the room, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Whatever your mode of travel, if you find yourself at Km 114 west of La Paz, stop.
As I've already said, the rest of the day was long and somewhat frustrating, with another notable exception being the mountain roads before Loreto which are even more fun when traveling north. Maybe it's not "retorno" after all; with Baja you get two different rides on the same piece of road. With the sun getting low, we stopped at the beach about 10 miles south of Mulegé where the bikers of the SFMC are camping in cabins. We dropped off the boat and dive gear and made a mad dash for town.
We're encamped at the Hotel Terrazas on the hillside above the town center, it's probably seen better days but it's clean, spacious, and there's plenty of hot water. Rolf regained his appetite, and he treated us to a great dinner that featured t-bones the size of your head and a bottomless well of tequila. This morning we walked around town, had breakfast, and soon we'll get ready for a day at the beach and a ceremonial "Mods vs. Rockers" ride.
We're off today and tomorrow, so I'll post at least once more before the trip is done. We may stay in either Guererro Negro or San Ignacio on Thursday, depending upon the wind and weather. If it's the former I can probably find one last Internet Cafe. Cell service is ubiquitous here, as are wireless networks, but most of those are secured and those that aren't are highly suspect. Tarde.
Hi all, the network at the internet cafe is struggling today, so you may not see many more pictures, we'll see how it does - but words may have to suffice.
Where did I leave off? On the way to Loreto I think.
We left San Ignacio and headed for the coast, Mulegé, and ultimately Loreto. The mountain passes south of San Ignacio were challenging and beautiful. We passed the Tres Virgenes volcanos and stopped for a photo op. As we rounded our last turn I restarted the helmet-cam to catch Casey disappearing around the corner (at my speed I watch a lot of disappearing), as I rounded the turn the Sea of Cortez appeared and a flock of pelicans soared by to the north. I'll find that clip for you at some point. The coast is gorgeous (save for the industrial town of Santa Rosalia) and we made our way to Mulege for an excellent breakfast of huevos rancheros and fresh orange juice. It's a nice little town, and the beaches just south of town are amazing. We'll be staying there for two days on our way back up. We arrived in Loreto (me first thanks to a generous head start while Casey helped get Fritz through another checkpoint) and found another budget-quality motel to stay the night. Mark and Casey decided to ride the off-road route up to the mission at San Javier, with Chuck, Tegan, Ryan and Rosa following in the Jeep. Mike, Rolf, Fritz and I wandered the town, found tacos, Margaritas and beer, paid to be serenaded, and wound up in another restaurant on the malecon where we tucked in for awhile and told stories. After quite some time we decided we needed to treurn to the hotel and track down Casey so that we could go out and celebrate his birthday. Just as we were about to leave we saw the Jeep and two bikes turn to corner, and waved them down. Casey and Mark both had huge smiles on their faces and had massively enjoyed the 20+ mile offroad ride up a wide river wash and the mountainside. It was the best present Casey could have gotten, and we were happy that they'd had such a great time. We stayed at the restaurant, ate well, and took turns buying shots of tequila for the birthday boy.
The next day we made for La Paz. The mountains south of Loreto were fun (more so for the bigger bikes) but once you climb back into the high desert it's a long straight grueling ride to Ciudad Insurgentes. After the mountain climb I did some mental math and determined that I'd probably run out of gas about 8 kilometers short of town. I went to reserve right on schedule, and started scoping for a rare wide spot to pull over and get some gas from the truck. About 10 miles from town we spotted the advance crew pulled over at a small store so we stopped. The wandering drunk we encountered there cautioned us not to let the dog soil the terrain, Mark politely explained that she'd been trained to utilize el bano. I looked at my gas tank and decided that I could make it the 10 miles to the next Pemex station. My my math is much better than my eyesight apparently. I ran out of gas about 7.5 km from town, and weaved back and forth for 3 kilometers - jiggling the last few drops into the fuel tap - until I found a small dirt road where Fritz stopped with me and we improvised a funnel out of discarded bottle to steal gas from the boat's fuel tank. Afterward we made our way to town, fueled up properly, and started on the even longer and straighter road down to and through Ciudad Constitucion (a notorious speed trap where we crawled through town at the slowest viable speed.)
Eventually the road turned again to the east and we knew that La Paz lay less than 100 miles away. Tired and hungry (and running out of gas yet again) we stopped at a tiny rancho literally in the middle of nowhere. The place was nothing more than a small home, the dining room was the family's, and the proprietor and his wife served whatever they had - he mashing the beans outside, while she made fresh tortillas in which she wrapped eggs and vension machaca that he'd killed and dried himself. It was rustic, delicious, and genuine. From that moment we've referred to our group as the Machaca Scooter Club (Dried Meat.)
We returned to the road, climbed the edge of the desert, and made it to the last military checkpoint before La Paz. Once in town we tried to find a room in the hotel we'd hoped for, but couldn't get more than a single night. We had a cold beer in the shade while Casey set out to find alternative accommodations. He found a place 1 block away, the same place he'd stayed 25 years before. The years have been unkind to the Hotel San Bernardino, and to it's keeper - a grumpy chiseling drunkard. It is however very cheap and well located. We packed and unpacked the trucks twice, as at every turn the innkeeper railed at us to pay him quickly so that he could go home after his long day, and telling us there was no time to get the air conditioning or hot water working. Each amenity required negotiation and a threat of departure. Eventually the A/C was turned on, the hot water provided, and the bill paid. Who knows what the normal rates are (he quickly erased the whiteboard in the office the moment we walked in) but at $17 per day we don't ask much. Despite his impatience he puttered around the place for the next 4 hours eyeing us suspiciously, offering various warnings, and suggesting that we probably owed him more money.
After settling in, Fritz mounted up his scooter for a short cruise with Casey up the waterfront. They got just a few blocks when Fritz was pulled over by a large policewoman on an ATV. She inisisted that there was a helmet law, and that eye protection wasn't enough. Apparently a city ordinance that doesn't apply to locals or anywhere else in the country. Fritz pleaded his case unsuccessfully, and the officer insisted that he follow her to the police station. Casey had seen this occur in his rearview mirror, surmised that helmets might be the issue, and (lacking his too) made a dash for our hotel. He quickly grabbed his helmet and Fritz', changed his shirt, jumped on my bike (so that he wouldn't be recognized), and left half his cash with me (so that the shakedown could only cut so deep.) He returned to the scene, acted surprised to run into Fritz, and offered him the helmet that he just happened to be carrrying. The office was loathe to let Fritz off the hook, but a local couple had stopped and taken interest, and were helping interpret. The officer seemed reticent to press her case with sympathetic locals on hand and finally let Fritz go on his way. We've since seen Frtiz' friend up and down the malecon preying on other tourists. We finished the evening at "Super Burro", save for Rolfi who is tired of tacos - he went to Applebee's on the malecon.
While I was at the internet cafe on Friday, the group headed about 15 miles north to the beach. Fritz got to get some riding in, but holed his piston about 10 miles south of town. Somehow Fritz is racking up the most stories in the least number of miles. Casey tied a rope to his bike, they wrapped it around Fritz' headset and clutch grip, and towed him 10 miles back to the hotel (the rope having been arranged to allow a quick release in case it bcame unsafe or of interest to his friend on the ATV.) We made a plan that after our trip to the Cabo, if my bike was still healthy, we'd get some garage practice by putting my spare motor into Fritz' bike so that he could join the Mods vs. Rockers ride either in La Paz or Mulege.
Saturday we took the route south to Todos Santos where we had an amazing breakfast of eggs benedict with smoked marlin and cilantro hollandaise. Todos Santos is beautiful, but has emerged as an American art colony and is becoming increasingly overrun by tourism and foreign investment. Nice for us, but apparently a plague on the natives. After breakfast we crossed the Tropic of Cancer and headed for Cabo.
We lost Casey just north of Cabos San Lucas, his bike cut out while we made our way through traffic. While he made a quick spark plug change Rolf, Mike and I got ourselves a little lost. After a wait by the roadside we hatched a plan to find and cruise the malecon, expecting to find the group there. We successfully reunited with the group, coincidentally at the southermost point on the peninsula. We'd planned to shop for souveniers and take in the waterfront, but traffic was oppressive, parking impossible and the heat unbearable. We gassed up and headed fro Cabo San Jose. The general opinion is that while a stay at one of the resorts is probably great, a roadtrip has no place there. We made our way to Cabo San Jose and proceeded to spend an hour in grinding traffic and sweltering heat. We nearly lost our minds, feared heat stroke, and learned to hate Cabo. Don't bother riding more than 20 miles past Todos Santos - really. We got out of town, regrouped and headed back for La Paz. About 30 miles south of the city we went through some great riding areas and stopped in a small town for good eats of the usual variety ( and pineapple ensemadas.)
That leg of the trip was very worthwhile. We were even happy to see our grumpy chiseler again, and his kick of the day was trying to get another $8 per day for the extra 10th person who in his imagination had joined us - we practiced together counting to nueve until he relented. An hour or so later some of the SFMC contingent arrived a day late. One of their party had crashed on the way down, broken his leg very badly, and has been airlifted back to SF. Very bad news, but we were relieved to know that he's alive and will heal. The evening ended at Super Burro, and a short stop in one of their hotel rooms to see what we are missing (A LOT.)
Where there are divided roads and controlled U-turns the signs read "Retorno". Now that we've made it to "the tip", and returned to La Paz, every mile from here on out is "Retorno".
Today has been mellow. Fritz and I spent the entire morning tearing the motor out of his glittery P200 and installing my spare. We had a few troubles but managed the job with some help from "Sweeney" of the SFMC who rummaged through a garage's junk box to find a suitable replacement for Frtiz' stripped shock mounting bolt. Casey's advice to Baja road trippers - if you've got a support truck, bring the kitchen sink. (BTW the gas and water he brought down have been indispensible, it's far easier to find Tecate in the middle of nowhere than either water or gasoline.) Afterward we headed south to the beaches to rent jetskis, but there were none to be had, so lunch was had instead.
Tonight we'll have a more luxurious dinner, join Frank & Kathy of the SFMC for tequila at their hotel, and bed down early for the trip to Mulege tomorrow. We're going to spend 2 days on the beach, taking the boat out to snorkel and dive. My pictures are now slowly uploading, I'll wait for them to finish and add a couple here. No video today, but I've shot some more good stuff.
Hi all, we're having a great time taking on Baja by scooter. Today we're on a day off in La Paz, and I finally found me some free Wi-Fi. I'm writing this as Flickr chugs away uploading photos, so there should be something to see over there and I'll link some here too. The photos are Public, so if you just go to Flickr.com and search for Baja Vespa you're sure to find them.
We left San Diego Sunday morning in a cold rain, with a prediction that there would be gale force winds all the way to Ensenada, but the promise of Sun and 80 degrees south of there. It made for a long day, but the roads were good, we crossed the border easily, and the weather lightened gradually farther south.
I'm traveling with Casey and Fritz of the Secret Society SC and also the SFMC; Rolf and Mike of the Vespa Club Los Gatos; Chuck, Tegan and Mark of the SFMC, Tegan's brother Ryan, and their dog Rosa. Fritz is driving the support truck, hauling all of our gear, the trailer and a boat. Rolf, Mike and Casey are on new Vespa GTS 250s, Mark's on his DR-Z, Chuck and Tegan have been spliting time on Chuck's KLR, with Ryan and Rosa in their Wagoneer, and I'm on the oldest and least powerful bike (by fully half the H.P.) my '77 Vespa P200E.
Casey has been down here a dozen times and he's been a great road captain and guide. Tegan and Chuck have come down the last three years and are up on great spots to visit, eat, and sleep. We couldn't be in better hands. The whole crew is great and we've been getting along well, making good time, and making good times. Mark's a lot of fun, an easy room mate, and fluent in Spanish - so indispensible.
With a few short exceptions the road conditions have been excellent, notwithstanding the fact that there's only one road, and only two narrow lanes without shoulders (or extra room of any sort.) That's not a problem for the bikes, but Fritz is working overtime driving a wide load - the oncoming semis know what they're doing, but the double-wide RVs take a lane and a half and test his nerve multiple times a day. We all owe Fritz a huge debt for volunteering to drive support.
Out on the road I'm naturally the slowest, averaging between 60 and 70 depending upon the wind direction, and lagging it up the mountain passes. The GTSs cruise easily, with Rolf posting an indicated 96 mph at one point, and the big bikes have no problems. My speed has earned me a revolving series of nicknames most having to do with cartoon mice or escargot. Given that there's just one two-lane road safety is a priority, and the road's well posted with all variety of cautions. I busy myself translating them and memorizing favorites. Given my 10 H.P. dynamo, my most favorite, and new motto, is "Mas Vale Tarde Que Nunca" = Better late than never. The most common is "Curva Peligrosa" = Dangerous Curve - sometimes punctuated by an elaborate roadside shrine commemorating a life that ended in that spot. "Grava Suelta" (Loose Gravel) I could do without entirely. Casey's favorite, and another common one, is "Si Toma No Maneje" (If you drink, don't drive.)
In Ensenada we stopped for lunch and ate the first of many fish and shrimp tacos on the trip. We ended the first day at El Rosario, more notably at Mama Espinoza's - the traditional stop for bikes and racers since the very first Baja off-road race (and probably well before then.) We were happy to be out of the weather, out of our rain gear, and into some fine seafood and cold beer. After a walk to the small store we spent the evening outside with iTunes, the aforementioned beer and cigars. (So I don't have to repeat myself you can just read that sentence once for every night we're down here.) From that moment on I haven't ridden more than a mile without the Ozomatli song "Cuando Canto" running through my head (thank you Corey, I see why you like them now.)
Day 2 got us up and out early. I mounted Casey's new helmet camera and shot the first 45 minutes straight, so later you'll be able to see the town, our ride out, and a mind blowing field of granite boulders that goes for miles - you've left Earth at that point. We stopped at a small ranchero near Catavina for a breakfast of huevos rancheros (yum - repeat that sentence too.) Go to Google Earth, find Rancho Santa Ynes, and then look for a large gravel landing strip east of the road - and you've found our breakfast spot. Along the way the military checkpoints have been easy for the bikes, but Fritz in the truck has been searched thoroughly a few times. They were especially curious about what was sewn into the cloth bags in the trailer (lead shot diving weights.) I haven't yet succeeded in videotaping a checkpoint, but I'll get one before we're done. Once we dropped out of the mountains the road straightens out for miles and miles, it puts everyone else to sleep but that's where I can make what passes for speed, so I tuck down tight - stick my head out over the headlight - and try to squeeze out all the mph that I can.
We counted the kilometers to San Ignacio, which all of a sudden appears out of the ground just when you've come to believe that there can't be anything nearby for a dozen miles. San Ignacio is a lush little oasis of date palms. It boasts a beautiful new zocalo (town square), and a few short streets of business, homes and restaurants. We stayed at a small place behind the main street, a regular spot for Casey and crew, snapping up five of the six rooms. Antonio remembers Casey, Chuck and Tegan, and was glad to see us arrive. Coming back from the beer run we found 8 or 9 weary and irritated dirt bikers milling about out front. It turned out that they'd called ahead for the rooms and left one of their names with the proprietor, Antonio. Antonio mistook us for them and had given us their rooms; he called around and found accommodation for the dirt bike crew and we made a peace offering of cold beer. Given that we were staying for two nights, paying Antonio for transport to the Laguna, and for a whale watching trip I think we were his preferred customers.
The local delicacies include the dates from the palms and snails from the river. I couldn't bring myself to eat a creature with which I currently closely identified, so the date bread had to suffice. The trip in the van out it Laguna San Ignacio for the whale watching tour was long hot and harrowing. Literally 40 miles of bad dirt road. Casey and Mark rode out on the two motorcycles (Mark having mounted his knobbies) and had a great time - we in the van suffered bravely for two hours plus. Nonetheless the trip was worth it and the excursion was unforgettable. Seven of us climbed into a panga and headed out about 7 km into the laguna. About 5-10% of the ~230 whales in the lagoon are curious and playful, rolling around (and under) your boat, breaching, spouting (or is it spitting?) and staying close enough to touch and pet them. Our boat captain was happy when we requested that he show us what his 75 H.P. motor could do, and we bounced back to shore well ahead of the other pangas. Back ashore we had a seafood lunch, and then climbed back into the van for the wretched journey back to San Ignacio. A road crew is on the outskirts of town, paving the road to the laguna, and our driver predicted it might be completed in ~2 years - so do yourself a favor and wait awhile (and check the progress on Google Earth) before making this particular journey on anything other than a dirt bike. Tuesday evening we walked through the beautiful local cemetary, and ate at the zocalo next to the mission.
My photos are almost done uploading, so I'll insert a few more here, and sign off for now. (After making the picture of Casey's backside "Private", sorry, NEVER LEAVE YOUR CAMERA ALONE ON THE PATIO!) We're headed to the beach, and tonight some more members of the SFMC are due to arrive on motorcycles - so we plan a Mods vs. Rockers ride in La Paz (Modernos Contra Rockeros.) Tomorrow we'll ride a loop down through Cabo, crossing the Tropic of Cancer twice, and completing 1/2 our journey, then return to La Paz for another day off. I'll post more on Sunday about Loreto, Casey's 57th birthday, the ride to La Paz, how our scooter crew got its new name, and Fritz' brief brush with the law (ended happily at no cost) etc. I miss you Corey, Nat and Ethan; and I promise to learn enough to show you a great time down here together sometime soon.
BTW, a message to Eric H. - I should've fixed 3rd gear, Baja really wants 3rd gear. ;-)
-B
I haven't posted anything like this, but I was looking at some photos for a project and can't resist - I'm so happy with the change:
On my Maicoletta, from the rear - far right, August 2006...
On my Maicoletta, from the rear, August 2007...
Camp Mather portrait, August 2006...
Camp Mather portrait, August 2007...
Camp Mather family portrait, August 2007.
Thanks Corey for your support and encouragement.
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