Well, just 5 days behind actual and I'm already catching up on the old journals. We are currently in Loreto, MX. Anyway, continuing on... we got up about 6:30 on the 5th, finished packing the bikes, ate a quick breakfast and bade fond farewell to our gracious host, Ken. Thanks again Ken, if you're reading this! We had about an hour's drive to get to the border and ran into quite a bit of the morning rush hour traffic in San Diego. Fortunately, motorcycles can use the car pool lane and we were able to maintain full speed to the border. Interestingly, San Diego's car pool lanes are completely separate from the regular lanes, I guess so cars can't cheat for a little while and get out when they think a cop is near.
Just before crossing the border, we stopped to fill up with gas, exchange money and get our Mexican insurance. Although Jeff swears that we don't need to get insurance for the Moto' s in Mexico because nobody ever checks, we elect to play it safe and buy 21 days worth of liability insurance for $97 each. (30 days worth of insurance was $124) Apparantly the insurance is mandatory and we've read about stories in the travel books of people ending up in jail after becoming involved in an accident until they paid for the repairs. Of course Jeff just thinks this is "all propoganda distributed by 'The Man' or 'El Hombre' to induce us to spend more money than we need to". But as we all know we should all take what Jeff says with a grain of salt. We chewed up about an hour doing this then moved on down to the border. There, we parked the bikes, which I stayed with while Jeff went to get the paperwork straightened out. I finally figured out that my bike is very tippy because with the 60 to 70 lbs of additional weight loaded on Suzi's back, the suspension is squished down quite a bit and the kick stand is now too long for the bike to be able to be parked on a flat surface. So, I was standing there in the hot sun holding on to it. I decided it was balanced ok and decided to move in to the shade. Uh oh... there goes the bike, headed straight for Jeff's. I grabbed it by the handlebars before it fell but couldn't right it. After a few cries for help, a few guys rushed over to help me. Up until this point, no one had talked to me but after the bike fall ice breaker, many people came to talk. I stood there chatting while Jeff rushed around from one line to the anothe. After about two hours, we were back on the road and headed for San Quentin.
Hola Mexico, mucho gusto en verlo otra vez.! Its always so much fun crossing borders into another country where you're ability to communicate is reduced to the kindergarten level. I personally think that we would all be much better off if we all just walked around saying "Que?". A little tidbit of information I learned from my previous motorcycle trip down to Panama 3 years ago (as yet unpublished but about a 1/4 of the way there) make sure when crossing the border into Mexico to enter through the 'Something to declare line'. Otherwise you end up crossing into Mexico, recrossing into Los Estados Unidos and then re-recrossing into Mexico a second time. Something the border guards find as a nice break in their otherwise uneventful days. Anyways, we pulled into the declaration 'carril' parked the bikes and off I confidently strode with the gait of a man on a mission, to where, not even the most seasoned of immigration officials could possibly know. After stumbling into a couple of dead ends (and this is an easy border crossing compared to Honduras!) I finally emerged in the immigration office. Since January of 1999 Mexico instituted an entry fee of 150 pesos per person ($15) which I feel is long overdue. On the surface the entry fee seems easy enough but you have to exit the border to a local Banamex, pay the fee and then feel your way back to the immigration office to show them that you paid. Not an easy task and I can speak decent Spanish. After getting the tourist cards it was time for The Green Hornet and Suzi to get permission to climb aboard. In downtown Fallbrook (town closest to Ken's place) I made copies to expedite the process. Not necessary, the Mexican government has used the entrance fee to hire a plethora of helpers and free access to a copy machine to aid in expediting the process. What is needed is a copy of the Title, Registration, newly acquired tourist card and a copy of a credit card. Armed with these instruments of war there's no stopping you now. For motorcycles they charged 105 pesos ($11) per motorcycle as a bond in case you try to leave the country without your loved ones. When I first started the process Linda was merely an Island in a sea of onlookers. By the time I finished all the paperwork she was awash in conversations of every sort. It was hard to pry her away so we could get on the road. As per my nature, I like to make tracks as far as possible from the border towns. I've found that it is difficult to meet real people in these places, so off we sped, in search of real Mexicanos. As it turns out we would meet an old friend of mine. Maybe you've heard of him, Moctezuma.
Scribe: Linda
We were starving and decided to stop for lunch at a little coastal restaurant. We both got seafood. Both dishes came with fresh vegetables comingled with the fish/shrimp. Jeff remarked that his didn't seem all that well done but we devoured them anyway. This was only Baja, after all, how dangerous could the food be. It also seemed strange that nobody else was at this restaurant. (See Loreto for consequences). Off we went after lunch on what Jeff had said would be flat, straight as an arrow roads and super hot. I believe he was delirious the last time he made this trip because the roads were very twisty, mountainous and it was pretty chilly. After a long day, we arrived in San Quentin around 6:30, just as it was getting dark. We checked in to a hotel and had a nice dinner in the hotel restaurant.
The next morning we were up around 6:30. We get up when the sun rises. Well, that and the local community band was practicing about a block away from our hotel and the rooster in the shack house behing us was crowing up a storm. From my experiences in traveling in Costa Rica, everyone seems to get up early in Latin America. They also seem to like to do the noisiest work as early as possible. It's rather amusing. Anyway, we were packed and ready by about 7:45 and headed over to the gas station to fill up. After making our way through the long line, we were off for San Ignacio.
Today we had to cover about 350 miles, mostly through desert, which Jeff assured me was "straight as an arrow". "Yea sure", I replied, "just like yesterday". And once again, we headed for the twisties. But, they weren't too bad and we made our way to straighter roads. About 60 miles out of San Quentin, we were greeted by extraordinary winds. We had to ride with half of our bodies hanging out to the side to counter balance the bike (Jeff said to think of it like being on a sailboat in high winds where everybody hangs over the windward side). We were in desolate terrain, so we stopped at an abandoned gas station for a break. The wind was absolutely howling. We parked our bikes on a good spot for Suzi to balance and I started to walk away. CRASH! The wind blew Suzi over and gas was pouring out of her tank cap. This time she fell on her other side. Feeling frustrated, I felt the emotions welling up again but this time I pushed them aside. My helmet fell also and the shield and visor broke off. "Super Glue", we cried, but alas, it was too much even for super glue. Not to worry though, duct tape to the rescue. Jeff says it matches the colors of my helmet. So, I know, I know, there's seems to be pattern developing. I drop the bike, I start crying, Jeff lectures me on what I should have done. At least I didn't let the emotions get me this time. It is horribly frustrating for me to keep making so-called "rookie" mistakes. Hopefully these things will end soon.
Finally, after patching up my helmet and bending my boxes back (the HepcoBecker mounts are performing quite admirably protecting Suzi in each and every fall), we were off again into the fierce wind. We stopped in a tiny town (pop. ~20) for lunch but the restaurant was closed so we settled for coke, doritos and pistachios. This is fine living! Off we went again, bracing against the wind and headed for our first military checkpoint. From what I understand these are set up all over Mexico to look for guns, drugs, etc. They are intimidating at first when you see a bunch of guys with machine guns but it is actually reassuring to now that they're on our side and not the infamous banditos. They sometimes want to look in our boxes but mostly they just like to look at the bikes and wonder how it's possible that we can be married for over two years and not have any children. I didn't feel the time was right to tell them about birth control so I just let them look suspiciously over at Jeff.
On down the road, through horribly windy conditions, we stopped at Jeff's favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Guerrero Negro for some Tamales. A couple miles down the highway and we finally had a tailwind! The struggle was over and the road was clear all the way to San Ignacio. I should say something about the terrain we have passed through thus far - it is beautiful. Baja consists of a few mountain ranges and mostly desert with cacti forests. It is rather stunning. Apparantly, a fair amount of water runs under the ground, which is why people can live out here. It is desolate though and the only water you see is glimpses of the Pacific Ocean to the west, and once you get close enough, the Sea of Cortez to the east. San Ignacio is known as a little oasis in the desert as it has a river running through it and there are date palms surrounding the the town. Just before entering the city, we had one more military check point and then rolled in to the tiny town.
It was nearly dark when we checked into the Hotel Posada in San Ignacio for 180 pesos ($19), just a few blocks from the zocolo (town square). This day we saw our first motorcycle, a BMW GS1100 struggling against what must have been an incredible headwind, heading north. At the hotel, his buddy, on another beemer elected to stay put in town. It turns out that they were Canadian and were completing a little sojuourn through Copper Canyon and Northern Baja. We talked about the bikes for awhile and then headed to town for a little dinner. Yummy seafood again.
We had planned our first short ride of the trip the next day so we decided to to take off around noon. Jeff went for a 4 mile run while I walked 4 miles (yes I'm still injured and can't run). Afterwards it was time for some pushups and situps then breakfast in town. Afterwards, we went to the old Jesuit Mission, with an adjoining museum. San Ignacio's zocalo has colonial looking buildings that were built by the missionaries. All the materials had to be brought in from elsewhere through the desert. That's true devotion. San Ignacio is also the launching point for cave expeditions. The nearby Sierra Madre mountains are home to ancient cave paintings. The museum displays pictures and samples. It would have been great to go to the real thing but apparantly you have to book far in advance because the number of visitors is limited by the governement. It's a UNESCO site. After our tour, we headed back to the hotel to pack up and get on the road to Bahia de la Concepcion. Uh oh. Our tummies were giving us the first signs of 'Las Turistas' (traveller's diarrhea). More on this to come.
With tummies talking loud enough to interfere with our communicators we finally broke clear of the desert and made our dramatic decent towards the coastline of the Sea of Cortez. We have been literally pummeled by the wind the last couple of days. Some of the most severe winds I've faced on a motorcycle and Linda has handled them with fierce resolve. Made me extremely happy to be her husband. Another thing that I've been very impressed with is our MSR gear. We've been slowly raising the heat index and today easily exceeded 100F. We've been able to wear our gear all the way through without too much discomfort. Finanally reaching the icy blue water peaking out through the mountains was a stunning view and a wonderful achievement that left us both dumbfounded with awe. It's experiences like this that make us feel truly grateful for the opportunity to travel.
Next stop is one of my favorite Baja towns, Mulege, nestled next to the same Mulege river that flows through San Ignacio. We only took a brief tour of the town since our main destination was the Bahia de la Concepcion and reputedly one of the most beautiful beaches on earth. There are several palapa strewn beaches from 12 to 30 kilometers south of Mulege. We stopped at the breathtaking beach called Playa Santispac. This place totally reminded me of the Cyclade Islands of Greece. As we rode down onto the beach, paid our 60 pesos ($7) camping fee, we were immediately inundated with international travelers eager to learn about the bikes and our trip plans. Its was the kind of confirmation we needed to make us feel like we're not total idiots for taking on such a grand plan. We then ran into a friendly couple named Carlos and Sheila in an overloded '76 station wagon who were to be our Palapa mates for the night. How could it be that a place of such beauty could be so accessible? There must be some catch, right...right! We gleefully set up our tents with a naivete so extreme that, in hindsight, it makes us shake our heads in wonder. You see we were totally unaware of the creatrues lying in wait. They were patient, methodical and chomping at the bit to introduce a healthy dose of mother nature onto our loathsome selves. But first it was very windy when we set up camp, so much so that we needed to use our Moto's as wind blocks to keep our tent from blowing away. I then went for a fabulous 30 minute swim in the crescent shaped bay framed by stark islands and the mountains on the Baja Penisula. The view was perfect, the campsite was perfect, the water temperature was perfect, our neighbors were great company, all seemed so right in the world. Until the first salvo that is. It was barely perceptable at first, a tiny pin prick here, a wonderful dinner and conversation there, another couple of pin pricks here, staring up into an incredibly starry night eating dinner there, several more pin pricks here, enjoying some post dinner magaritas at the palapa bar there. It was finally time to retreat into our high speed Eureka Timberlite 3xt tent. It was then that we noticed that there wasn't much wind to speak off. I'm sure it was their plan. As the wind died our tent quickly turned into a Betty Crocker Easy Bake Oven and we were the little cakes ready to be the next prepubescent girls tea party accompaniments. As we sweltered the night away we decided to try to move outdoors and that's when the beasts struck with a vengence. I'm not talking about poisonous snakes, jaguars or crocodiles. No that would have been easy. These were the voraicous 'No-see-ums' of Baja. Tiny little flys that bite without warning (aka, pin pricks) and everywhere at once. Think what it must have felt like to be Betsy Ross's pin cushion and that was us. We immediately retreated back into the oven. We figured it was better to be dehydrated to death rather than be known in the annals of 'No-see-um' history as the Great Gringo Feast of 1999. It was about this time that Linda really started to feel the effects of Moctezuma's revenge. She did not look very good and seemed to be suffering miserably from the combination of bug bites, oppressive heat and tumultuous bowels. It was also about this time I realized that my motivational speech about finding inner peace and you can't have any Ying without and Yang was falling on deaf ears.
We obviously survived the night and witnessed a delightful sunrise over the Sea. The wind kicked back up and, obviously satiated, the little buggers were back laying plans for their next hapless victums. Linda was feeling pretty bad by now. In an effort to lower our body temperatures we went for a half mile swim in the early morning hours. I was also starting to feel the effects of a bodacious belly. The death march that ensued was to break down camp, trade war stories from the previous night with Carlos and Sheila (They are heading down to San Jose del Cabo to open up a Carribean restaurant/bar named "Havanna" on the main draw towards Cabo San Lucas. If their restaurant/bar is half as good as their intentions and energy, it will quickly become a 'must' on ones travel plans when in the area. Mention us and you'll get, at a minimum, a free margarita. Muchos Suerte, Los Amigos!) and make the scenic 80 mile ride to Loreto. Due to Linda's dire straits we quickly abandoned our budget constraints and checked into the Villas of Loreto. Solidly constructed with a waterfront view and clean comforatable rooms with air conditioning and a pool all for the budget busting price of $69 per night. Oh well we weren't planning on eating anyway. As Linda cranked up the AC and rested I ran around performing periodic maintance on the Moto's and made plans to wake up early to play golf at the nearby course in Nopolo. The golf thing sounded good on paper (on toilette paper that is) but it was unrealistic to assume that my old amigo would visit Linda and not me. I went to the same garage to change the oil in the motorcycles as I did three years ago. They also gave me the same blank stare when I asked if they had a special place to pour out the old oil. Same as last time, find a clearing, open the drain plug and let the Texas Tea return to Mother Earth. I finished cleaning the air filters about the time I was to become incapcitated for the next 24 hours.
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Steaming towards Mazatlan aboard a relatively nondescript ferry boat which, in all outward appearances, looked seaworthy enough. After an early morning visit to the post office to find that our original titles had not yet arrived. The keeper of our cat, Thuc, had sent the titles via overnight mail to the main post office in La Paz but 'overnight' translates to 'overweek or so' in Baja so we decided to skip town rather than wait. This decision was mostly predicated on the going rate for two tank dives in La Paz (about $125). We went to the ferry office and bought our tickets. Linda's and my ticket cost just $23 for Salon class (seats only) for the 18 hour cruise. The bikes cost a combined $109. The whole process was alot easier the second time around. We showed up around 12:30 and loaded the bikes around 1 pm. Lucky for us Carlos, a fellow passenger, lent us some tie downs for the bikes or we would have had a difficult time securing them in the car deck. We spent the next several hours catching up on our journals and nourishment. Linda also had a nice little surprise for me. She stowed away a Kurt Vonnegut book called 'Slapstick'. Back when I used to read, Kurt Vonnegut was one of my favorite authors. It was a great way to while away the time before Mr. Sandman sent us some dreams.