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.
Phone cards in Mexico
Avoid at all costs the ‘direct line’ phone booths where they want your credit card for a call. Instead, buy a Ladatel or Telmex card in 30, 50 or 100 peso amounts. These phone cards can be found in the small stores up and down the shopping districts. If one store is out of them, another will have them. Sometimes there’s even bonus minutes added the first time you use the card. The Ladatel/Telmex phone booths are found almost everywhere in the Baja. (Although not in Catavina.)
Insert your card, wait for the prompt which shows how much is left on the card, and punch in 001 + area code + phone number to call any number in North America. After you hang up, that beeping noise is to remind you to remove the card.
Across the line
It started out uneventful enough, but no, as luck would have it I had to ride over to Yuma to pick up a part. Nothing serious, just a delay in the proceedings until the next day.
Once across the line into Mexicali a brief stop was required to get my tourist visa (ask for 180 days, and make it the standard in case they offer less). That’s a simple form fillout that the girl did for me. She asked for my passport, and kept it as she sent me across the road to the Banjercito office to pay the bill. I brought the receipt back, she stamped my passport and handed it back to me complete with my tourist permit. I was on my way.
No vehicle permit is required for crossing into and riding down the Baja. You will need one for the mainland, should you choose to cross there.
Once into Mexicali, it’s a matter of paying attention to the road signs. Believe me, pay attention. There are two M2 routes. The first is the old two lane ‘free’ highway, and the second is the M2 divided toll road. This second road out of town is a bit hard to follow given the lack of noticeable road signs. I had to backtrack a couple of times because the signs were hidden or pointing in the wrong direction, most notably at a traffic circle to the west of city center.
Once out of town to the west, things pick up. The four lane M2 is good, but watch out for slippery spots. Anti-freeze, oil and other unknown substances seem to leak out here and there. Once on a corner hill I felt my rear tire give up traction for a split second. Had I been speeding, I could have ended up in the ditch, I’m sure.
Traffic appeared to be very light on this road, probably because of the toll.
This road winds and twists and climbs to the west and then descends all the way to Tecate, where I had to go a fair distance into town for fuel. On the way back out, make a right turn at the fire station buildings and you’ll be on your way to Ensenada via M3.
While good, this road is a narrow two lanes and drops off spectacularly on the sides. There’s lots of truck traffic too, so take care. And, in case you’re wondering, yes, people do pass on corners and hills even though they aren’t able to see oncoming traffic. Keep an eye out and corner appropriately, no matter what, on this narrow road. Because I did that, I narrowly missed a head-on with a car passing on a hilly turn.
At El Sauzal the M3 runs into M1, and before you know it you’re on the outskirts of Ensenada. Keep to the right, read the signs, and you’ll be at a Pemex station if you want to get fuel here. If not, don’t worry, because there are plenty of Pemex stations on the way out of town to the south.
I elected to hook up with Avenue Lopez Mateos and park in front of the Hotel Bahia. It’s an older two storey hotel right downtown, with plenty of places to eat nearby. I had phoned ahead and booked a room. Price quoted — U$59.00. Price negotiated on the phone — U$39.00. During check-in I got a ticket for a free margarita in their bar. I enjoyed that after a long day in the saddle, believe me.
Parking at the hotel is in back, but the desk attendant told me I could park right beside the outdoor bar, so I wheeled up to within about 20 feet of the hotel’s back door, parked for the night and unloaded.
The room wasn’t anything fancy, but it did have a small balcony overlooking the sea to the west. You have a choice of carpeted rooms upstairs, or no carpet downstairs. And, they offered a ticket to a continental breakfast in the morning at a restaurant just a couple of doors away. The Hotel Bahia is popular with the biker crowd, so be aware that during rallies you may not be able to get a room here.
Hussong’s and everything else is within a short walk, so see the sights and try to avoid buying trinkets, because if you’re headed south, it’s a long way to be hauling goodies for the folks back home.
Baja bound
It’s time to hit the road again. This time I’m headed down the Baja. Yes, that’s right. All the way down once again. The last time was in 2001, and that seems like a long time ago.
That last time I rode with a good friend, who has since passed away. Don was an old-time biker who rode and wrenched and did most everything there was to do on a motorcycle. I will miss his humor on this trip, but I know he’ll be looking down and smiling.
The temperatures down there are in the mid-70s. The sky is blue and the beach sand is white. What more could there be to life?
I’ve got a fresh engine and new tires. In fact, the bike is running flawlessly, so it won’t be a problem.
All I have to do now is pack, and that won’t take long.
I have no good-byes to say.
A Christmas ride
Santa passed me by so I took off for a ride down the hill to warmer temperatures, blue sky and sunshine. With only 1,100 miles on the new engine I want to hit the asphalt as much as I can between now and when I head down the Baja early next year. I’d rather discover the problems before I’m on the road down there. The isolation and lack of communications doesn’t bode well for getting a lift to civilization or for ordering parts.
This is the second Christmas that I’ve spent out riding. I did the same thing last year. It’s such a welcome change from being up north in the cold and snow. I enjoy it down here so much because of the weather alone.
No matter what comes next in life, I’ll always have fantastic memories of the great riding, the places I’ve been and the people I’ve met. Even the hypocrites and the losers I know take on a new look in such weather. I can just smile at them all and venture on down the road while they remain where they are, trapped in their petty little lives trying to live a lie.
The riding is good. The weather is good. Life is good.
This man doesn’t need more than that.
Rumor and myth
Riding the Baja
For years I had wanted to ride a motorcycle down the length of Mexico’s venerable Baja Peninsula, a one-way trip of over a thousand miles. Now I had the opportunity: No job. No home. No future. I was ready!
As rides go, it wasn’t going to be all that adventurous. Sure, there were the usual rumors of bad roads, bad gas, bad food, bad people and military road blocks, repeated ad naseum by people who had never ridden or even put a foot on the Baja.
As for the bad roads, that was a myth. Mexico 5 is paved all the way from Mexicali to San Felipe on the Sea of Cortez. Yes, it is narrow, and yes it is rough in spots, but all manner of vehicle, from dirt bike to Winnebago, traverse the road to San Felipe and beyond - while the gas at the most remote end of the pavement is good.
For years while riding to San Felipe I had come across the usual road blocks, manned by kids no older than 18, wearing brand-new uniforms and brandishing M-16s. They didn’t appear too threatening to me, and were mostly interested in my motorcycle and having their picture taken while standing beside it, all the while sporting huge grins.
To date, I’ve not had a meal in Mexico that I haven’t liked.
The people are superb, and my only disadvantage has been that I am unable to speak fluent spanish; however, that’s my problem, not theirs.
So much for rumor and myth.
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