In the morning Brian and I loaded up our bikes, took some pictures, said goodbye to Sabine, and headed out of town. As I was getting ready to leave I ran into Ian – something I have been doing since San Ignatio – in the local internet café. He was heading south too but for La Paz where he was catching the ferry for the mainland. We exchanged our best wishes and I headed out for an epic run to Cabo.
We decided to make the full push to Cabo for one, excellent, reason: Brian wanted to hit the Cabo scene on a Saturday night. So, as a good riding buddy does, I obliged. We made great time but the wind we encountered most of the way exhausted me. The majority of this trip has been characterized by coolness and wind. Hands clinched onto the handgrips waiting for the next big gust to hit and the head beating my helmet took wore me out. But we got to Cabo in great time – about six hours of riding – and entering into town found the Cabo Inn, a great little hotel near everything downtown and with space to park our bikes in the lobby.
Our night in Cabo did not disappoint. I showed Brian around and we settled on a nearby taqueria for dinner. Afterwards we got cleaned up and headed down into “deep” Cabo, picking up a young guy we found idling in the Inn. We found a small outside bar to sit and chat for awhile until the magic hour of 11pm hit. Then, of course, I took the guys to Cabo Wabo.For those of you who have been to Cabo, and particularly Cabo Wabo, you know what I’m talking about when I say Cabo is a scene. Dodging weekend tourists, street vendors, pimps, and time-share salespeople, we found our way to Cabo Wabo. It wasn’t completely packed at this point but it was close, so we wedged our way into the backside of the place, strategically placed between one of the bars and the dance floor. It was an ideal place to watch the action all around us, and the band on stage. One of the highlights of the night was definitely the live music. The band, three Mexican guys and one gringo, started playing covers of 80s rock “greatest hits” and doing a GREAT job of it. Another highlight was watching Brian dance with just about every woman in the place. It was the Cabo he was looking for and around 2am I headed back to the Inn, leaving Brian to continue his crawl downtown. I was way past tired at this point, but a good tired. Good times make for a good tired.
Walking back to the room I began to realize that every mile from this point forward was a mile heading north. Being at the end of the peninsula meant now I would begin the long journey home. And when that realization hits you, something happens. I have no regrets about coming back to the States early for grandma’s memorial service on the 26th. But when you get to the last days of a trip there’s a process of “preparation for re-entry” or at least that’s the best way I know how to put it. Thoughts start turning towards home, but mixed with the reality of where you are right at that moment. And I made it a point, and commitment to myself, to stay in Baja all the way until the border. There is still much Baja to travel. And I also embrace the goodness within the palpable sadness of leaving it.
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