I’d go again in a New York minute!
This trip, as with the 2001 ride, proved relatively uneventful for the most part. I knew a little more Spanish so that helped quite a bit.
I can’t recommend riding the Baja roads at night, unless you’re in a city or town. Traffic is just too unpredictable, and headlights and signal lights appear to be an option that not many choose out in the boondocks.
The fuel was all good, and although not always available from a gas station, it caused me no problems. For the most part here is no high-octane fuel, except in the larger centers.
As always, the food was pretty good, although I tend to get a little tired of the Mexican fare from time to time. That’s easily remedied in the larger centers.
The road blocks are a bit of a pain but they are mostly paved turnoffs. The troops are polite and even though there is no English spoken they make known what they want to look at and into, so it’s only a matter of opening bags and letting them look. I had no problems.
Border crossings both ways were relatively uneventful except for the northern crossing at Nogales. I was truly surprised by the truck jam here and the fact that you had to ride around them to the car crossing. I had no problem re-entering the United States.
And yes, I’ll do it again one day!
Rough seas
February 11-13, 2006
After another overnight in Loreto I made a last minute decision to proceed to Santa Rosalia and take the overnight ferry across to Guaymas and then head north to Nogales and the border. I needed a vehicle permit to do that, but it was Sunday. After trying my Spanish out at the ferry office, the attendant called the local Banjercito girl to come in and write up a permit for me. She required photocopies of my passport, driver’s licence and insurance card, which I was able to provide. She also wanted a copy of my tourist visa, but since I had no copies of that, she consented to make one for me.
I was on my way.
The Santa Rosalia ferry as of this writing (February 2006) is scheduled for Tuesday, Friday and Sunday night departures at 8 p.m., but after talking to a biker who had gotten off the late-arriving ferry I learned that the seas were very rough during his daylight crossing. This would delay the departure.
Motorcycles are loaded first, then the rest of the vehicles. After strapping down the bike, I headed up to my cabin hoping that I’d get a good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be the case. The scow listed badly from side to side in the rough sea crossing, and I was kept awake most of the night as we cruised across the Sea of Cortez. Needless to say, I was extremely happy to see the breakwater of Guaymas approaching at nine in the morning.
After a quick topoff in Guaymas, I rode north on the four-lane highway all the way to Nogales. I was very surprised by the trucks waiting to enter the U.S. They were lined up for hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of feet, blocking all of the approach lanes to the border. I finally crossed over into the oncoming lanes to get past the trucks and into the car lanes. Apparently this is now standard procedure to get over the line.
While idling away in the lane, I witnessed a Border Patrol agent wrestle a pedestrian to the ground and escort him back to the Mexican side.
Welcome to America!
Hotel California
I finally tired of the tourist nonsense and packed up to ride north. There’s fuel on the way out if you choose, or you can ride approximately 30 miles to Todos Santos and fuel there. The M19 runs north along the Pacific coast and it can be a little cool first thing in the morning. After my early departure I decided to stop for breakfast at Todos.
The Hotel California is decidedly a bad place to do that. The service was horrible and the meal only so-so. When I finally got my “toast” it wasn’t even brown, but it was nice and hard. I wondered if it was yesterday’s bread leftovers.
There’s a legend floating around that the Hotel California is one and the same as sung about in the song. This isn’t true in the slightest and has in fact been denied by the band.
Across the street from ‘that’ Hotel California, the former owner of the original Hotel California has a very nice place to eat, with a streetside patio. I wish I had gone in there, but I had to sample the ambiance of the old Hotel. A mistake, to be sure, for one can still wander around the old hotel and not eat. Take my advice, and if you must, eat across the street.
I checked out a small market just up the street, but found nothing remarkable. Just more of the same. Todos Santos is just another tourist town albeit on a much smaller scale than Cabo.
Back in the saddle again and I was headed for Loreto one more time. At the west end of La Paz there’s plenty of fuel all the way to the airport cutoff, so don’t be worried about turning off the highway and going into La Paz.
The ride north was uneventful.
Cabo Wabo
February 6-10, 2006
Today was a short haul south to Cabo San Lucas on the M1. Highway 19 is about an hour shorter, and I’ll take that north from Cabo on my way home. There are plenty of small towns to pull off and enjoy the sights on the M1. One of the nicest is Los Barriles, which is fast turning into another Cabo, although on a much smaller scale.
I rode through San José del Cabo on the way to Cabo San Lucas. To me they both appear overdeveloped. Traffic is a mess. Yet again every shop sells the same version of different trinkets, shirts and caps. The resort hotels have the beaches tied up. And so I retired to the quiet elegance of the Hotel Santa Fe, a five minute walk down Zaragoza to the main drag, Lazaro Cardenas.
At the Santa Fe rooms came with a fridge, a toaster oven, dishes and cutlery. There’s a small store, but prices are very high for gringos. My recommendation is to pick up what you need at the grocery store at the end of the street when you walk back to the Santa Fe.
I was pleased to learn that it had on-site laundry — washed, dried and folded for 40 pesos. There’s also a taqueria where mamma fed me breakfast with a smile every morning and the price was only 40 pesos. Years ago I learned that even the simplest attempts to speak a foreign language was welcomed by the locals, and that’s true here too.
I got more than my fill of Cabo over the next several days. After all, there’s only so much to see and do in a tourist town. The malls are the same everywhere. The stores, the hawkers, the gawkers and the talkers populate every nook and cranny. Boats in the harbour are impressive, expensive and empty, their occupants having gone off to some hotel or another to enjoy the finer things they didn’t bring with them.
Motorcycle riding blues
I’ve got the motorcycle riding blues
if you know what I mean.
I’ve got dust on all my clothes
from the endless miles I’ve seen.
Only five more miles and I’ll be home,
Only five more miles to go.
Over the years I’ve paid my dues
riding north, south, east and west.
I’ve grown tired of all the booze
And now I’m soon to end my quest.
Only ten more miles and I’ll be home,
Only ten more miles to go.
The women I’ve known have never understood
how a man like me can live.
She only knows that I’m no good
and that she will never forgive.
Only thirty more miles and I’ll be home,
Only thirty more miles to go.
Daydreams
I thought of you today. I know how much you like the sun to warm you. Perhaps that’s why. You would have liked it by the sea, sun streaming down, a gentle breeze to caress your face.
Your hair would have been tied back. Gentle drops of perspiration would lie on your forehead.
A sarong would be around your waist.
I miss all that and more.
La Paz
Two days here have left me well-rested and ready for another leg of the trip, this time to La Paz. It’s an uneventful day with temperatures in the 70 to 80 degree range again. I fueled at Ciudad Constitucion and rolled into the outskirts of La Paz. I was surprised to find fuel on the north end, but in fact the entire entrance to the city has changed since my 2001 trip. It’s all four lane divided highway now, very modern and nice to drive. The little roadside taquerias have all but disappeared on the west end. I missed eating there on the way into the city.
La Paz is a modern city by Baja standards, with all the amenities you can think of. Yes, it’s Mexican, but that’s part of the flavor not to be missed. I much prefer it to any other place on the Baja, and it bears exploring.
I was lucky to get a room at the Los Arcos Cabanas for the night. The Los Arcos is right on the malecon, and from the bar you can watch the people on the street while overlooking the ocean bay. It’s an easy walk to restaurants and bars on the malecon, and the night life can be pretty active. I settled for a shrimp dinner and a beer and watched the action on the malecon while eating.
I’ll sleep in tomorrow, since it’s a short ride south to the tip.
Dog days
February 3-4, 2006
I had a morning meeting with myself and decided that I’d ride all the way to Loreto today, a trip of only 409 miles (659 km). On normal roads that wouldn’t be a difficult endeavor, but with this narrow Baja road, and the corners and hills farther south, I wasn’t so sure. No sightseeing today.
Twilight came at 0530 and I hit the road at 6. Just south of the La Pinta driveway was the first vado I had ever seen with running water in it. Since it hadn’t rained here, I wondered why the vado was full. I crossed carefully with no problem - the water was only an inch deep.
Guererro Negro was my next stop for fuel, but before that the highway again meets up with the Pacific side of the peninsula, and the cold air and thick-as-pea-soup fog I encountered cut to the bone. I had to stop and put on my rain pants to keep from getting chilled. At Guererro Negro I also lost an hour, as the time zone switches to Mountain here.
I stopped for fuel again in San Ignacio. I was going to spend the night here before proceeding on down to Loreto, but instead rode on to Mulegé for more fuel. Mulegé is a bit of a pain with it’s one-way streets, but there is a Pemex in town. By now it’s up to 80 degrees again - a little warm to be in town, but not so bad out on the road. On the way out I discovered a new Pemex about four miles south of the town on the highway. Oh well.
North of Santa Rosalia, the road descends from the hills in a twisting downward spiral. Unbeknownst to me, a semi had stalled up-hill in the left lane on a blind corner. Fortunately I wasn’t going very fast, so I missed the line of semis that had already passed it in my lane. Just another reason for not speeding on this road even though it is good enough for high speed riding.
Finally Loreto came into view, but I passed it by for the Inn at Loreto Bay. This was a great place to relax for a couple of days and eat something besides the local food I had been devouring.
I have stopped.
One thousand miles.
I have come to rest by the sea. I keep returning but I’m not sure why any more. Wind. Waves. Smell. Sky. Sun. Sand. Sounds.
It’s not the real sea. This is the Sea or Cortez. The Golfo California. And I am just outside of Loreto, Baja California Sur. Temperatures are in the mid-80s, although the nights and mornings are much cooler.
The road was good. Two days of hard riding in daylight only, for to ride the M1 at night would be cheating death. Cattle, trucks, cars, animals of all kinds litter the roadway at unexpected times.
I measure the days thus: a three dog day yesterday; a seven dog day today, for they always seem to be laying dead in the roadway. Pups perhaps, who haven’t yet learned to grow old in traffic and now never will.
Harsh? Perhaps. Welcome to the Baja.
Gringo millionaires
After a continental breakfast just up the street from the Hotel Bahia, I walked back, checked out and got my five dollars back on the key deposit. I pushed out early from the bar in back of the hotel and rode Avenue Lopez Mateos south to the highway. There are plenty of Pemex stations on the way south out of the city, and no shortage of fuel. Traffic is hectic, but that’s the same in any city.
I took a side trip to the end of the winding road at La Bufadora. The ride was interesting, but I didn’t feel like paying for parking in the tourist trap town. The vendor stalls weren’t open yet, but I could tell by the number of them that this place was popular with the tourists. I turned around and rode back the way I came.
Every town on the road south is dusty. If there’s a wind, there are dust devils. If the town is large enough, businesses line the highway fifty or a hundred feet back. Cars struggle to scramble over the edge of the pavement to get to them. In towns, topes or speed bumps slow and interrupt the flow of traffic, so watch out. Many aren’t well marked. Hitting one of these and speed will launch you high into the air if you’re not careful.
After fueling in El Rosario, the last town on the Pacific side of the Baja, the road turns inland away from the Pacific. It was only 54F (12C) when I pulled out of Ensenada at sunrise, and it didn’t warm up until the road traveled farther inland, finally making 80F (26C) by the time I hit Catavina and the La Pinta Hotel there. The La Pinta chain has hotels in Ensenada, San Quintin, Catavina, Guererro Negro, San Ignacio and Loreto, each complete with restaurants and bars. They’re pretty nice places to stay given that they’ve been around since the highway was completed in 1973.
The Pemex beside the La Pinta in Catavina was closed (as it was during my ride in 2001) but I was told that it was “open last month”. Never fear though, there’s always a privateer wanting to make a little cash, and just 100 feet away was someone selling gas out of a drum for 35 pesos a gallon. He was even wearing a Harley t-shirt!
For comic relief I started up a conversation with a disheveled gringo who was hanging around the gas stop. He informed me that he had been the inventor of a well-known chocolate treat — “Reeses Pieces” but with jam rather than peanut butter, if you can believe it. His story was that he had been cheated out of millions when the peanut butter treat came on the market. I gave him 10 pesos for his story and he was happy to go away.
The hotel bar had Sol, so I was happy. I sat back and relaxed and had a couple of cold ones before dinner. A group of bikers arrived and joined me in the bar. They were waiting for some friends who had left after them, and would be arriving after dark. I didn’t envy those after-dark arrivals in the slightest.
I retreated to the restaurant for a very nicely prepared spaghetti and chicken dinner. It was excellent. I retired early and slept like a log.
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