Santa Rosalia to Mulege

I awoke this morning in bliss: I had actually slept the whole night through. The last two nights were marked by spotty sleep at best due to drunk rager parties two doors down, a creaky bed in the same room (two nights, different couples), teens outside my bathroom window singing loud to their shitty car stereo, and all of this lasting until 4am each night. It was kind of funny actually. But it was really nice to get some sleep finally.

I hung out a bit in town once I got up and went down to the famous French bakery (pandaria) and scored a baguette fresh out of the oven. So I strolled to the plaza and sat there watching the sun get higher. On my way back to the room to load up I went to my “usual” taco stand and ordered a taco, this time realizing it was a beef head/brain taco as well as soup. So I got that down and headed back to my room.

I had Senor Victor and his assistant pose with the bike, said our adioses, and headed out.

This Santa Rosalia - Mulege - Loreto section of Baja is immensely popular with the retiree gringo set and I passed mucho RVs in the short (40 mile) stretch between Santa Rosario and Mulege. Of course the most common license plate was from California but closely followed by Washington, then Oregon (even with Lithia plates), and a lot from Canada. And none could drive very fast or well. That’s the motorcycle talking.

So I got into Mulege around 1pm, scored another nice, cheap room, unloaded, then went out exploring a bit. What’s emerged as my modus operandi when I first get into a new town is heading to the church and sitting for a bit. I really enjoyed this in Santa Rosalia and the same for here. Afterwards I headed up to the mission and took a short hike among the date palms that fill the little valley of Mulege.

I’ve pretty much just hung out today, walking around, reading in the plaza, and gringo watching. There’s a lot more of them here than anywhere I’ve been outside Ensenada. And I tend to avoid them as best I can. I don’t know why this is entirely but I feel a repulsiveness when I come across them. It’s a kind of “you don’t belong here” which, as you’ve already thought, neither do I. It’s like being on a motorcycle gives me some greater legitimacy or something. I can just hear Kirk saying that’s bullshit, and he’s right. So I’m working on going with the flow that other tourists think this part of the world is worth traveling to. But the adventurer in me likes the idea of being way out and off the beaten path, and retirees in shorts and huge Ford 250s just breaks apart that fantasy of mine.

At this point I’m thinking I’ll get up very early and try to catch sunrise on Playa Santispac – a beach that overlooks the Bahia (Bay) Concepcion. From what I have read, watching a sunrise over the BC is close to heaven, and an experience I want to catch while I’m here. And having a few cervesas while sitting on the beach that afternoon after (maybe) doing some snorkeling.

It’s been pretty windy here these last few days with more wind for a few more, so going out on a boat is no bueno por me. So we’ll see how the day stacks up. Like with many things here in Mexico, we’ll just have to see.

San Ignatio and Laguna San Ignatio

Today I took a road trip (meaning, in this case, that I left my gear at the hotel and went off for the day) to San Ignatio. Actually I took a trip throughout the Laguna San Ignatio peninsula and had another epic adventure.

San Ignatio is an oasis in the desert, a valley filled with date palms from the 1700s where the missionaries sought to bring farming and trade to the indigenous people. Of course they needed the help because they hadn't done just fine on their own for hundreds of years, but that´s for you to read about in the history of Baja California. I got into this unique town around 10am and after taking a few pics, decided I would continue on to the Laguna San Ignatio - one of the best whale migration routes in the Pacific. I wasn´t sure if I was going to jump on a boat with some gringo tourists or just keep riding solo, but I ended up just riding. And then cleaning.

The route to the Laguna, an inlet of water that is flanked by mainland Baja and a peninsula of land that juts out into the Pacific, is about 70 km (50 miles) of dirt road. The road is washboardy at times and slightly washed out in others, but all in all it's a nice ride. There are even solid stretches of well graded dirt, so I got the bike into 4th gear in spots. That´s hauling in terms of what typically goes for speed on these roads.

I reached La Laguna, a small town on the water, after much desolation and flatness. But getting to the Pacific when I had left the Sea of Cortez just hours before was a unique experience. So today I rode from the Sea of Cortez to the Pacific and back. Not many times in my life will I get to say that. But I hope to again at least a few...

So, not wanting to just sit there, I got back on the bike and kept heading southwest to see how far out on the point I could get. Ten miles or so of "exploratory" riding and my GPS was telling me I was getting close. So as I looked up from my map at a very near ocean, I thought, "yes, I´ve made it." And that´s when I hit a section of the road that looked solid but was 8 inches of mud and suddenly found I was inadvertently crash testing my suit (It performed brilliantly, of course). I flung over the left handlebar at about 30 mph and rolled once or twice and instantly got up and went back to the bike. Now mind you, I'm way out there and have no idea as to the nearest human being. So I got it back up, slung a rooster tail of mud 20 feet, and got to an open area near the ocean and parked.

Mud was caked everywhere, including me. So I did the only thing someone in my position would do and found a nearby burn/trash pile and scavenged for something to start stripping mud off with. A rusty piece of metal bar did the trick and I started with the engine and worked my way to the tires. When I got the larger chunks off, I went back to the engine to get mud out of the grooves (the engine is air cooled and needs the grooves to stay cool). But the bar was too thick so I looked around and found...an oyster shell. The guys in SF will appreciate the irony in that. So after cleaning up, taking a break, and taking some pics, I headed back.

After stopping at a small fishing village, getting a Fresca and chatting with the guy there about the bike and the San Francisco Giants, I headed back the 50 miles to San Ignatio.

San Ignatio is a place I'd like to return to and get to know better. The Iglesia/mission is incredibly beautiful and the plaza is frozen in time. Unfortunately I had to return to Santa Rosalia before I could visit the museum that holds some replicas of nearby cave paintings. But I did walk through the church, the plaza and the main town area. If I have time and opportunity, I'll stay in San Ignatio on the way back.

Being so far out in such a desolate place, all alone, and certainly after having dumped it the way I did, gave me a real appreciation for my own sense of adventure and self-confidence. Not that I always know what I'm doing - quite the contrary. It's believing in yourself and that within yourself you have the resources to do what needs to be done. That is a fortunate thing. And I am grateful I have it to the degree I do. I can't say that I feel such confidence all the time, but being put in situations like these give me windows to see good things about myself. And those are gifts.

Tomorrow is Mulege. Beach, sun, water and cervesas.

Santa Rosalia - pictures

Iglesia Santa Barbara

Below: the museum and former French admin building.

View of the Sea of Cortez, overlooking the city. Iglesia Santa Barbara in middle right of pic

A very expensive clothes line

Santa Rosalia

January 12

Here at an internet cafe on the main strip of SR. It's classic Baja outside - warm, slight breeze, the smells of taco pescado wafting in the door.

And speaking of food, in contrast to the naysayers that said I'd lose a lot of weight on this trip (yes, that's you Ed), I've been eatting very well. For instance, I had beef brain soup this morning with my carne asada taco. I hit the local mercado and stocked up on water, cookies, cereal, and juice. Plus there's a great little taco stand that's become my local haunt. Good times.

I took it easy today, letting my tail rest after all that riding these last few days. I adventured around the town a bit this morning, hand washed my clothes, and watched them dry. I also worked on my bike a bit too - something I'm really enjoying doing. I've got the suspension and tire pressure gig all dialed in, and made adjustments for my day trip tomorrow to San Ignatio. There's a chance I'll also head down to Laguna San Ignatio to do some whale watching, so that would make for a full day. I'm looking forward to doing some riding without all the gear - a real benefit to getting a cheap room for a few nights. It's nice knowing that Senor Victor will be watching over my things while I'm away.

I took a bunch of pictures today of Iglesa Santa Barbara and the Sea of Cortez, but didn't bring them with me to the cafe. If I get a chance I'll come back and post them later. You know, I'm on Mexico time...

San Quintin to Santa Rosalia

January 11

Got a patchy night of sleep between the car stereo duel outside my door at 1am and the delivery truck convoy that settled into the hotel about 11pm and got revved up at 6am. Now, I’m not complaining – I was warned any hotel on the Transpeninsular (Mex 1) would be noisy, but this was over the top. So I got myself out of bed and looking out the window discovered that San Quintin was socked in with fog. There was moisture dripping off anything with a surface area and the temp was resting at 45 degrees. This was not my vision of Baja – you know, the sitting on a beach sipping margaritas and smelling pot waft from upwind. But I shook off that vision, got packed up, narrowly averted a personal hygiene catastrophe (Dr. Bronner’s soap gums up in your hair in cold water), and headed south.

My waterproof gear got road tested this morning and everything performed perfectly. My Aerostitch suit is amazing and proving to be the most important gear I own after my bike. It stays warm in the cold, cool in the heat, clearly keeps me dry, and is easy to get on and off. And the level of protection is fabulous. The thick, cold fog lasted about 40 miles, for as long as the highway followed the Pacific, and broke up to crystal clear skies after heading inland. I quickly dried up as I left El Rosario and headed southeast towards Catavina.

Inland Baja – that area of the peninsula between the coasts – is an incredible desert landscape. The Trans (what I will start calling the Transpeninsular Highway/Mex 1) winds through mountains awash with cactus and shoots straight for miles through huge fields of cirio trees. It is an extraordinary sight to behold, this desert moonscape. It goes in every direction as far as you can see and the horizon brings ever-new variations on the same theme.

And while there is a lot of straight sections on the inland Trans, there’s also plenty of curves to be had and I learned that the road sign “curvo peligroso a 500m” means, in motorcycle, “there’s a lot of fun coming in 500 yards.” I’ve also learned that you can pass at anytime, anywhere and that when a trucker puts on his left blinker it means you’re good to pass. I also learned that some bugs are big enough to sound like a firecracker when they hit your helmet at 85 mph.

I swung into Rosarito for some tacos and struck up a conversation with a fellow traveler by the name of Ian. We exchanged stories of where we’re coming from (for him, Salem OR) and where we’re going (he’s heading to South America), and our mode of transport (yes Dwight, he’s more hardcore than me – he’s on his bicycle). It was a good human connection and a shared appreciation for the wideness of the world, the spirit of adventure and the trials of the road. So after taking this picture and exchanging best wishes we parted. I was just going 8 times faster than he was. I really appreciate the inner life of cycling and can imagine in a small way the process of journeying that way. So Ian if you read this, vaya con dios brother. I’ll be following him in his journey south, and so can you, at www.surlycyclists.blogspot.com.

The route through Guerrero Negro took me through a military base, the 38th Parallel, and the line between Pacific and Mountain time zones. It’s the first time I’ve changed time zones by going due south but hey, why not? After Guerrero Negro the Trans bends southeast again and back to the desolate, lonely, but magical, desert. Which makes getting into San Ignatio so stark. I dropped in over a hill to find myself in a valley filled with palm trees. There is a mission there that I plan to make a day trip excursion to, and some good hiking from what I hear. I filled up my tank and made the last 45 km push for Santa Rosalia.

The weather, warm, sunny and tropical, was what I was yearning for and as I crested the last hill and saw the Sea of Cortez, I broke out with a big smile. Here was the goal of all the hard pushing I had been doing these last couple of days. Today’s ride was 8 hours, and the same the day before, and I was going to make Santa Rosalia my base for a few days of rest, recuperation, and exploration. I rode through town and found the little family run hotel “Hotel San Victor.” I met Senor Victor and for 600 pesos (about 60 dollars) got three nights and a base of operations. It’s a simple, spacious room and a place to lock up my gear while I take my bike and go explore the area. I am realizing that this is one reason why I may not camp much – the places I’d want to camp in are also places I want to explore and having an “empty” bike makes life a lot easier. So if I can keep the hotel costs to $20-30 a night, it’s a no-brainer. But I do want to camp some – I need to justify lugging that big duffel bag of gear all this way!

After off-loading the bike and cleaning up a bit, I went down to the center of town and explored this fascinating place. Santa Rosalia began as a French mining town and much of the architecture bears out this French influence. The town, with it’s one way streets, vibrant night life and fusion of Mexican and French culture, is a very unique experience. The main church in town, Iglesia Santa Barbara, was designed by Alexandre Eiffel and before being disassembled and shipped to Santa Rosalia was exhibited at the Paris World Exhibition in 1889. The center of town has a plaza that feels very French except for the little Mexican children rollerblading around the gazebo and adolescents flirting on the benches by the edge. The main artery, Av. Obregon, is lined with taco stands and small markets set inside European structures built of wood cut from Oregon. Like I said, it’s an intriguing place. I hit a taco stand alongside a family out for a walk and enjoyed the flow of young people cruising their cars along the Avenida.

The rush to the Sea of Cortez is over. Now I will spend the next week or so exploring the coastline and settling into Mexico time, with the help of tacos, cervesas, bahias and sol.

Mike's Sky Rancho - Ensenada - San Quintin

I left early this morning from Mike’s to get a jump on the day, and to make the 22 mile run to the highway while the mud and clay was still hard from the freezing night before. So I had a hearty breakfast, said adios to Amarta, Matambo, the rancho and the dogs, and headed out. As it tends to be, the anxiety I had about the perceived difficulty I built up was unfounded. I was restless last night thinking about the cataclysmic possibilities on the ride out but the way was easier on the way out (due to descending rather than climbing) and I had plenty of gas. It was a blissfully uneventful ride out of Mike’s and I got the highway in good shape, a much more seasoned off-roader.

Because I deflated the tires to a low psi for rough dirt roads, once on the highway I had to inflate the tires and so had a good reason to break out my tire pump. So I pulled off the highway and got out my tire gear and expanded my “knowledge base” a bit more. It worked beautifully and it’s something I’ll carry with me in my car when I’m not carrying it on my bike. It’s the size of a small paperback book, weighs virtually nothing, and plugs right into your cigarette lighter. Pretty cool. So then after hitting Valle de Trinidad for needed gasoline, I raced off for Ensenada.

I got into Ensenada around lunchtime and found my way to an internet café where I did some emailing and posted the last few day’s posts. I called mom and got updated about grandma and after hearing she’s still hanging in there, decided to keep heading south. Getting out of Ensenada and onto the open highway was a huge relief. There’s something about riding a motorcycle into that openness that feeds my soul, and being on my own on that bike is unlike anything else. Soul food. I guess that’s explanation enough.

I got into San Quintin around 4pm, my cut-off time for the day. So I rode around a bit and somehow missing the Old Mill Hotel, found the Hotel Uruapan. So I unloaded my gear and took the bike over to a hose and spent a good while giving it a good cleaning. A lesson that mountain guiding taught me is that you take care of your gear; take care of your gear and your gear takes care of you. So I broke out my trusty hankerchief (one of the key pieces of equipment I have) and washed the bike, saddlebags, everything. It was gratifying to connect that way with my past, and the bike, and where I’ve been. Having cleaned my gear, and then my face – it was black with road grunge – I headed out to find a taqueria. Near the hotel I found one and sat down, ravaging through three tacos and a Fresca. After dinner I swung by a mercado and bought some “essentials.”

I hope to get to the Sea of Cortez tomorrow at Santa Rosalia. I have been amazed at how cold it is here and thankful I brought jeans and some warmer clothes. I had considered a lot less! So I’m holding out for a warmer climate farther south. And the pictures and descriptions of Mulege and Loreto are whetting my appetite to stay in one place for a bit and soak in the place.

I have been reading Rumi on this trip and deeply moved by his poems. Here is one I have found both in this book and in a card I gave Heather recently:

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened. Don’t open the door to the study and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument. Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

Blessings.

Back in Ensenada - Passing Through

Found a little internet cafe and sent off a couple blog posts and some emails. Heading south this afternoon, shooting for San Quintin or El Rosarito. I'll let you know when I get there!

Adios!