29 days/5500 miles

"On the map, a thick black line indicates the Transpenninsular Highway, or Highway One, which spans the length of Baja --A long, variegated peninsular separated from mainland Mexico by the tepid, life-rich waters of the Gulf of California. Highway one is Baja's main highway, and beyond a few shorter routes from border towns to tourist destinations, it's the only highway. It was completed in 1973, a hallmark of modernization, an inaugural conjoining of north and south on a tract of land where people, separated by vast stretches of harsh, untenable desert and high mountains, once had little communication beyond their own regions.

But a thick black line on a map can be misleading for the uninitiated. Highway one is only regularly maintained(although without such luxuries as painted lane dividers or guardrails) on the series of toll roads from Tijuana to Ensenada--a tiny portion of the 1,100-mile long road. Beyond Ensenada, the paved roads are macadam poured directly on dirt, meaning there are as many dips and curves in the road as there are in the land beneath. Such road construction doesn't hold up well(though it does create jobs), and there are huge potholes scattering the highway all the way down to the end of the peninsula, some of them gaping expanses of crumbled pavement that last 20 or 30 feet. The frequent and dramatic dips, called vados, are often filled with sand or water, or, on a cold desert night, a sleeping cow seeking lingering daytime warmth on the highway's blacktop. Baja is mountainous, and with a few exceptional straightaways, the road is a winding series of blind corners and hairpin turns. Many of the curves are not marked with warning signs, and the road is often coated with a slick sheen of diesel fuel that sloshes from Pemex trucks. The road can suddenly become one lane serving both directions, or turn from smooth pavement to grated dirt, a violent switch of terrain that can cause a broken axle for the unprepared car, or total disaster for a motorcycle rider."
--Rachel Kushner, Girl on a Motorcycle



SEATTLE-BAJA/COPPER CANYONS & BACK. Adrian MacDonald & Carl Larson spent a month on the road in Sept 06 traveling thru Mexico on our 1996 Kawi KLR650s. First is Adrian's day-by-day journal with my(Carl)'s notes(like what on the bikes broke) last.


I have edited out everything that happened in the week-&-half in the States before we hit Mexico as uninteresting to most. As we catch up to our heroes, they are just leaving LA towards the border(if they can find it). Tempers are already flaring & nothing is going according to plan...


ADRIAN'S LOG(edited by Carl)
5TH TUES
Lane-share out to a suburb to get some seat thingy(Airhawk cushion!) Carl bought off Craig’s list. Adrian's bike overheats in San Diego desert heat. Carl recommends removing thermostat and changing coolant, taking up 3 hours and creating a small environmental disaster by dumpster behind auto parts store.
Night falls. Adrian bewitched by Iraqi girl behind counter at mini-mart, loses spare motorcycle key. Iraquette suspiciously unhelpful upon return visit to search for key. Revert to spare spare. Because of Carl's nightmarish memories of the last time he crossed through Tijuana, the World's Busiest Border Crossing, head East from San Diego for 20 miles towards much smaller crossing at Tecate. Strangely finding no signs to the only other country besides Canada bordering the US, head Due South on dark winding road & finally find border. Carl chats up border guards, loves men in uniform. Bitter guard with neck broken in scuffle with fleeing Mexican scares Carl, Adrian's plan to go down Baja instead of mainland wins. Night at campground on US side.

6TH WEDNS
Get cash, maps, cross border to Tecate, no guards or bureaucracy whatsoever. Cultural change instant. On highway Carl needs to stop every 20 minutes or so. Parks and waves Adrian alongside: "C'mon, I just want to talk to you." "Why are we stopping?" "I need to put my headphones in. So, how about this road?" "It's pretty cool." "What?" "I said it's pretty cool." "I can't hear you! You have this bad habit of mumbling." "You have your headphones in." "What? Speak like a man!" Lunch in Ensenada,
then long haul across desert to San Felipe. Carl almost killed passing a truck on a blind curve. He chats endlessly with military checkpoint guards, showing off limited Spanish. Stay night at Pete's Camp, Carl pouts that Adrian is not interested in prancing and skipping about in the tide pools. (Editor's note: I don't recall any "prancing") Drinks at cantina with Pete and assorted regulars, relatively quiet, informed that we are in the off-season for tourists. Settle in for bed under the stars. Hurricane-force windstorm in middle of night necessitates dumping all belongings in tent then carrying tent behind RV. Little sleep is had.

7TH THURS
Carl impossible to get out of bed in the morning, as usual. Declares that he is not going anywhere until we ride the bikes on the beach through the tide pools. Adrian irritatedly concedes. Goal is to visit a truck mysteriously parked out in the tide. Reason for "truck-wreck" is soon discovered. Within 5 minutes Adrian's bike is mired in clay and cannot be moved. Carl rides out to investigate, tips bike over on soft sand, then runs to use toilet, missing much of the action. Gringo camp residents come to rescue with rope, 4-wheeler. "Yeah, see that truck?" says one rescuer. "That's been there for 3 weeks." Spend hour and a half washing up. Adrian wants to kick the crap out of Carl for most of day. Humorous guy at car wash calls Adrian “Salado,” whatever that means. (Editor's note: "Salado" means "unlucky guy")San Filipe seems very nice, until we discover lake on roads in middle of downtown. Past town, road turns to primitive rocks and gravel, but winds beautifully through seaside cliffs and mountains. Carl complains bitterly of "boulder-strewn goat track," moves slowly. Adrian thoroughly enjoys himself, knobby tires handling road with authority, frequently waits for Carl with street tires to catch up. Pass several scorched rusted car carcasses, and one brand new deserted Toyota truck with front wheel busted off. Consider beautiful but expensive hotel in remote Puertocito(Note: No electricity or hot water or restaurant in entire town), decide to press on. Night falls. Reach Bahia de San Luis Gonzaga well after dark. Hotel is on spit of land near water, road disappears in sodden estuary. We miraculously find the hotel manager shopping at middle-of-nowhere just-closed mini-mart, he guides us on proper route through the tide pools. Hotel expensive but comfortable. Angry discussion of getting early start on next day, Carl reluctantly agrees, though considers only flaw in leadership being not staying at previous hotel.

8TH FRIDAY
Decently early start on day. Road less hilly, but more sand and precarious washed-out bits. Adrian loves every minute, Carl whimpers at every rocky rise. He finally dumps bike on sandy curve, Adrian beams, snaps photos. Carl curses street tires & leaky gas cap, contemplates gas-soaked tankbag & contents. It takes 2.5 hours to travel 50 miles. At last reach main highway, Carl kisses the pavement. Soaring highway ride through deserts and over massive mountain ridges to seaside town of Guerrero Negro. Check email. Carl out of money, needs to borrow. Adrian's account overdrawn. Financial crisis. Find RV park for night, on way Carl again dumps bike on sandy highway embankment, declares sand his "nemesis". RV park and associated restaurant empty. In interest of bike security, Carl picks campsite behind restaurant, on top of anthill, next to puppy kennel. Pipe emerging from restaurant spits discolored water at intervals into bucket nearby. Carl requests to sleep in tent in buff because of heat, denied. Suspects Adrian of terminal shyness. Approximately 4 grown mutt dogs lament pathetic existence at top volume throughout night. Carl goes after nearest with hatchet. After 10-minute moonlight chase, finally drives it away with flung giant clamshells. (Editor's Note: After dumping the bike twice this day, I aired the tires down to 20. It made a big difference in the sand)

9TH SAT
Solve financial crisis by being bailed out by Adrian's dad. Call Adrian’s aunt Mary who lives in Cabo San Lucas, arrange visit. Relatively early start, but Carl wants to take tour of local salt mine. No tour, but Carl flirts with 40-year old tourism director for 20 minutes. Emerges from office waving paper with her phone number like won lottery ticket. On road, Adrian sees Carl slowing and waving arm in beckoning motion. Adrian moves to pull up alongside, is nearly

sideswiped by truck passing in other lane. Carl considers Adrian idiot for not looking in mirror. Adrian wants to slit Carl's throat. The two part company for a few hours. Carl chats up bicyclist from Luxembourg napping under tarp by side of road. Military checkpoint. More chit-chat about Mexican guns versus American M16s & the h
eat compared to Iraq in mangled Spanglish. Briefly visit Mission of San Ignacio, tourist stop. Visit ferry terminal in Santa Rosalia. Little information is learned about other ferry terminals further south. Much evidence of recent hurricane Juan, but roads have been cleared. Reach Mulege, where vegetation has turned from desert to near-tropical green. Stunning seaside views. Find palapa with nicely appointed but typically empty bar/restaurant. Manager a slow-speaking man with eyes at permanent half-mast. Adrian largely not speaking to Carl. Sleep in side-by-side burlap cots in small beach hut.

10TH SUNDAY
Moderately early start, as usual wait 45 minutes for Carl to get packed. Strange black bee creatures the size & noise of hummingbirds. Adrian shoots pool with restaurant manager while waiting, learns bees are called maracones. Dictionary translates this to “queers.” Hit the road, more stunning views from coastal highway. Go through our first water crossing in Loreto, Carl apprehensive. Down road we remember we need gas, so go back to Loreto. Go through water crossing again. No taco stands in Loreto apparently due to farming dust in air. Go through water crossing again, pass through town of Ciudad Insurgentes. Reach La Paz late afternoon, Carl thinks he is cheated out of 500 pesos by gas station attendant, who is in bunker behind barred window, but can’t be sure. Ask directions to ferry terminal at a different station, this time of cute Mexican girl with lip piercing. Girl flirts with Carl, takes interest in his MP3 player. Carl brags proudly of CD-style MP3-player and how better than Adrian’s MP3 player. Gets girl’s email, beams to self on way through town, oblivious to blinking left turn signal for half-hour.
Race is on to Cabo before nightfall. Don’t make it, follow line of cars through dark Mexican night. Carl watches Adrian unwittingly cut off a car attempting to pass. Makes mental note to bark accusations of suicidal intentions toward Adrian at later date, fueling more animosity. Make it to Cabo, Mary’s directions are Mexican-style; "turn left at the big palm tree, try to aim for the street with all the bright neon, etc" Finally meet Mary and George at McDonald’s in center of town. Looking for parking lot entrance, go wrong way up one-way street in front of police station. Only serious run-in with police all trip. They let it go, after much good-natured chit chat and magnanimousness on the part of George. Mary puts us up in large high-end condominium she manages in downtown building overlooking harbor, George buys us tacos and beers at gringo cantina where he is a regular. Adrian enjoys food & laundry, Carl enjoys warm & fuzzy feeling from secure parking.

11TH MONDAY
Wake up, talk to Mary, wander around in daze. Carl does some emailing, Adrian smokes part of a joint and winds up in conversation about the quirks of life with cruise salesman. Carl pesters Adrian to find tailor to mend rip in shorts, but none is found. Locals happy to give directions, but not accurate directions. Shopping for flip flops at store in condo building, they are marked $70.00, which turns out to not be in pesos. Nice girl at surfboard shop wants $250 for day rental. Again, the travelling gringos are surprised price not in pesos. Eat dinner, drink beer, find internet café. Carl downloads pictures from Adrian’s camera, sends off email detailing hijinx to friends back home who have forgotten he is alive. Back at condo Carl talks at length on George's phone with wife Kate, seriously discusses flying her down for a few days in Cabo. Mary has left notes encouraging us to meet guy at Harley dealer for info on tourist visas, and friend from New Orleans coming in tomorrow.

12TH TUESDAY
Adrian wakes up early, eats shitload of French toast for $3, goes back and puts kibosh on wife scheme. Spends day doing more wandering around. Carl sits in waiting room for tourist visas while Adrian buys flip flops and checks out the town a bit. Carl decides in infinite wisdom to not buy tourist visas yet. (Editor's note: It would have taken all day, possibly two) We ride our bikes all over the town's slippery-with-sand streets wearing shorts, flip-flops & t-shirts, no helmets. Adrian insists Carl not inform his father of this, & especially not send him this picture! Get spare keys made at cerreteria, Carl embarrassed all over place by helpful 10-year old girl speaking better English than him. More town wandering on foot, culminating in exhaustion. More Carl shopping for presents for wife. Meet Mary and George at cantina. Carl’s personality finally an asset, able to chat with Adrian’s relatives for hours as we wait for Mary’s friend to arrive who supposedly has a job opportunity for Adrian in Louisiana dredging company. Tour Captain George’s charter fishing boat, huge, luxurious. Carl visibly salivates from one end of boat to other. Later at table, Carl babbles Army stories indefinitely. He offers toilet humor joke book of amusing Spanish phrases, to George’s amusement. Friend arrives, Adrian embarrassed, Carl steps in to chat motorcycles with friend till cows come home. (Editor's note: Why didn't you tell me to shut up? I didn't know he had a job for you!) Later head out for night on the town, town quiet, gringo party bars suck, we find it difficult to shake black-eyed Mexican trying to drive hard bargain on bag of white laundry detergent, strip club empty but at least free. Adrian has to get fat girl off his lap, wonders why they always pick him.

13TH WEDNS
Leave a half hour later than planned to catch ferry, despite Carl’s rejoinders the previous evening. Adrian, in depressive morning daze, follows Carl to ferry terminal, misses huge boat with “Baja Ferries” written on side and tells Carl we haven’t found the ferry yet. Carl's mood immediately improves after much chuckling. Military office sends us back to town to track down the tourist visa office.

Manhole cover stuck in vertical position in middle of street. Adrian misses, Carl hits. No damage, except to Carl's heart. He thanks God for sturdy skidplate & fraternizes with street corner observers, who warn traffic by placing rocks in road around wedged cover. Get visas, involving getting paperwork, going to bank and waiting in line, going back to get paperwork stamped, then going to ferry to get further paperwork done at military office. Barely make it before office closes. Ferry tickets US$125 each for passenger and bike. Approx $80 each for visas(30 tourist card, 50 for bike permit). Adrian's mood not improved to learn permits were available for half price back at border. Carl disappointed to learn other two-wheeled adventurer on Honda XL650 who just shows up to ferry hasn't gotten his paperwork, & therefore will not be allowed on.
Ferry is appointed like a hotel, and includes a free meal in the cafeteria. Comfortable seats in lounge with bar. Adrian looking forward to long nap, but Carl discovers fellow travelers and strikes up a social event. Travelers include Paul, a young British postman riding a Honda Africa Twin (a dual sport like ours, just much nicer), who has taken several months off for a long dreamed-of solo trip from New York City to Tierra Del Fuego. Also include Yes, a Japanese bicyclist who spoke neither English nor Spanish yet who was enroute to Hondures, and Silvia, some Swiss lass Paul fancied who was bicycling to God knows where. Adrian gets around the boat for a walk, is sucked into conversation by a Mexican truck driver hanging out near the bow. He is the only one of the group of truck drivers who speaks English, says they have joke that on the road, it’s just him and Manuela. She never complains, and always puts out. He has to explain about “mano” being Spanish for hand. He talks to Adrian at length, suggests that he has many friends in Guadalajara Adrian could meet, stay with, says when you go to Mexico, you just improvise, meet people, take some time, get around. All tempting. Adrian reluctantly returns to US/Euro acquaintances. At end of ride, Adrian, Carl, and Paul are a traveling trio headed for the Copper Canyons, and stay the night in a “sex motel” (see footnotes) in Los Mochis. Carl and Paul enjoy a good-natured Brit vs. American rapport, Adrian massively relieved to shift responsibility for attention-hungry Carl. Carl overjoyed to finally be able to pick on someone for his accent instead of his riding skills.

14TH THURS
Wake up to porn. Breakfast in Los Mochis, followed by search for post office. Guy not only guides us to post office, but turns out to be a "deputized tourist assister." Tells about road to Copper Canyon, banditos, and a large party of motorcyclists making the trip to the canyon in a few days for Mexican Independence Day. (Editor's note: We never saw this supposed large group of Mexicans on bikes who rode the same route) Asked directions from another guy at gas station who guided us to Walmart(Carl almost cried when he saw it), showed us to the maps, and stood in the aisle marking routes and rattling on at top speed in Spanish to an obviously befuddled Carl while Adrian & Paul shop & smile at his misfortune to speak a little Spanish. Adrian spends enjoyable 20 minutes trying to explain concept of "trail mix" to attractive grocery clerk. Carl's new friend advises staying in historic town of El Fuerte for the Independence Day celebration. We finally get underway, stop in El Fuerte, which is indeed a charming little town. At a huge historical museum in front of the central square, a dashing Mexican fellow named Adrian behind the tourist information desk speaks English, and has two extremely pretty Mexican girls hanging out there with him for no apparent reason. They have little trouble convincing us to stay for the celebration. Mexican Adrian walks us to a hostel he knows, owned by a Mexican-looking woman who is actually from Sacramento, named Carmen. The hostel is empty except for us. The cleaning girl is very cute, and Carl immediately moves in for the kill with the unwavering confidence of a married man. Carl later brags of girl’s interest in him, but tells Adrian that he should be going after her since he is single. Adrian’s hatred for Carl spills over; Adrian resolves to leave the bastard in El Fuerte and make the return trip solo. Adrian says as much over dinner. Carl states his opinion by warbling Fleetwood Mac's "You can go your own way...." at him all evening long. A 15-year friendship is sundered by a few sharp words & off-key verses. After dinner, Adrian, Carl, and Paul go in search of the best drinks the town has to offer. Carl spends $15 on three shots of "sippin' tequila" and we stumble across a trio of young traveling Israelis who we immediately adopt into our drinking party. The first bar is quiet, and the early-20s Israelis are an uphill battle to chat up. The second is quiet but more tequila is downed, the third—a fluorescent lit room with cheap folding tables resembling a smoky detention cell—is packed to the gills with drunk Mexicans, mostly men. Horse-faced prostitutes dressed in torn black t-shirts & jeans navigate the crowd's laps, a mariachi band plays our requests ("La Cucaracha" being really the only one coming to mind), and Adrian is beset by happy drunk Mexicans explaining the meaning of life in slurred Spanish. "xxx xxx." "Si." "xxx xxx." "Mmm." "xxx. Tu comprende?" "Oh, si, si." Fists are tapped. Then, on to another bar. On their way out, the six amigos must each run the gauntlet of hideous hookers plucking at their collars in difficult-to-avoid attempts to pour long, sorrowful stories into their ears, mixed with the inevitable amorous invitations. Once outside, some men on the street attempt to thrust another prostitute at us, but we press on. The previous bar is now also jammed with carousing Mexicans, these ones a younger crowd. It is nearly midnight. More drunk dudes surround Adrian. One seeks to befriend him by making rude gestures regarding the women available in Mexico. An hour later the drunkest one pulls Adrian away. It turns out to be Carl, who introduces him to a cute Mexican girl, the first we’ve seen tonight, with a bandana over her head like a gypsy. "Do you speak English?" "I...understand...muy...mucho." "Cuanto cuesta una noche con mi amigo?" Carl asks, pointing at Adrian. She balks. "Five hundred pesos." Laughs. Adrian gets her down to three. Suddenly Adrian is in possession of a cute girl for the night. Adrian and the girl disappear with only room key. An hour later, Paul and Carl say "hasta mañana" to their new friends & stumble back to the hostel, only to discover the door locked. After much futile door-pounding, they sneak into nearby empty room to sleep, curse the existence of the MacDonald clan.

15TH FRIDAY
Carl & Paul sleep all morning. Adrian reappears in the afternoon, having not slept at the hostel, having not slept at all, reporting strange drug side effects, spends day trying to piece together events of previous evening. Side effects include insomnia, throat constriction, and suddenly knowing how to speak Spanish. Apparently he didn't slip her Little Adrian after all, but had a pretty surreal night anyway.
Carl does more extensive emailing with wife, it being her birthday.
El Dia de Independencia celebration starts at 6pm but gets rolling at 10. Some chit chat with the reticent Israelis, then fireworks that shoot into the crowd and many soused Mexican men stopping to shake your hand and say “Viva Mexico!” Adrian continues suffering mysterious drug side-effects. Vows never to smoke marijuana out of a lightbulb again(Editor's note: it wasn't marijuana she gave you, you idiot) but is vaguely disappointed not to see his mysterious gypsy girl in crowd. Fears she will haunt his dreams forever...

16TH SAT
Left bright and early, relatively speaking. Promises to write up hostel for Lonely Planet are met with ambivalent good nature by Carmen. Immediately forget name of hostel. The road into the canyon is poorly marked on the map, and we have only the Tourist Deputy from the Walmart’s pencil marks to go on. Carl stops nearly everyone available to ask directions, understanding approximately 50% of each conversation. (Editor's note: That's optimistic) North of the town of Choix the road becomes dirt and gravel again, this time with water crossings. Talk to an Gringo geologist in a pickup truck headed for a new mine under construction near the village of Piedras Verdes. Tells us to follow him, which we are able to do for approximated 30 seconds. People’s estimates of travel times are based on truck travel, which are much faster than bikes, at least with Carl and Paul navigating every rock like a land mine. Miss our turn. Climb several switchbacks, Carl and Adrian both moody, Paul relaxed and British as ever. “I could be mistaken,” Paul tells Carl. “But I think just now you might be off Adrian’s Christmas list.” Carl displays surge of off-road confidence, charges off up extremely un-navigable horse track convinced there must be a restaurant at the end. Make it less than a mile and painfully turn around, go further up the road, find little hut in middle of mountainous nowhere with no food but plentiful cold Cokes(typical of everywhere in Mexico, actually), realize we went the wrong direction, turn around again, (Editor's note--compasses are a good idea off the beaten track in Mexico) look for restaurant on way back and find none, talk to pack of beer-buzzed ambling cowboys about directions, finally find correct turn. Road begins to incline steeply upward. Carl is in lead, stopping frequently to make impatient poses, Paul is in the rear, Adrian is still stoned and half asleep. Road winds up and up. Adrian skids to stop and dumps, Paul helps him up and gets gas all over his underpants. Carl is only one amused. Pass 3 semis coming down on our way up approximately 30-degree grade, barely enough room for bikes on side of road. Continue upward, then down steeply, then up again. Carl’s bike running funny, he stops next to drainage ditch on side of road, slides backward, dumps bike in ditch. Takes 3 of us to haul it out. Carl insists dumping a bike backwards takes style. At higher elevations the road calms down slightly, passes through valleys.
Guy on side of road in middle of nowhere flags us down, saying something in Spanish. Gives Adrian a huge handful of marijuana, gesturing at motorcycle. Finally figure out he wants a ride. Man goes and reaches into the hollow of a nearby tree and pulls out another bud the size of a ping pong ball, gives it to Adrian. Man gets ride. Starts to rain. Adrian continually far in lead, despite extra passenger. (Ed note: We just didn't want to tailgate, as we were expecting the guy to fall off!) Thinks he has a bike problem, turns out he’s just in second gear. Waiting at long intervals for Carl and Paul to catch up, he and man get to talking about the relative profit and danger of marijuana smuggling to the states.Offers $200/kilo, Adrian suggests he might consider it at 200 pesos. Rain picks up, Carl’s bike stalls twice. Drop man in village of Piedras Verdes. Carl stops to chat with locals, asking about food and lodging. Locals keep coming out of man’s house trying to sell us things, snake skins, various crafts, more marijuana. Don’t seem to get food and lodging concept. Adrian gunning to leave. Old man, lowering his voice, finally offers to sell Carl nearby 12-year old girl. Adrian wants to throw up. Carl gets ready to start haggling but catches scowls on friend's faces & regretfully says goodbye. (I figured: where there's a ho, there's a meal & a warm bed, honest!) Elevation gain continues, rain continues, dusk quickens, civilization nowhere in sight. Night falls. Buses and trucks coming the other way around blind curves. Visibility drops to near nothing. Both Adrian & Carl stop to put on rain gear. Paul presses on in typically relaxed British style. Keep stopping people who promise restaurants, hotels another half hour up the road. Hours pass, road just keeps winding through the pitch black forest with our headlights as our only guide. Finally stop a passing truck driven by a man named Mario who speaks English, owns a hotel, and promises a hot dinner waiting for us. Says to follow him. Truck takes off at truck speed, only Adrian can follow. Adrian finds hotel an hour down the road, goes back for Carl and Paul. “We wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for my quick thinking,” beams Adrian over a hot gourmet Mexican meal. “Pff,” Carl replies, in between shivers. Room is $60/3, hotel is magnificent bed and breakfast-style mountain retreat. Dry out and warm up. Also staying are an older couple who are schoolteachers from Hawaii, and their son David, a soft-spoken advertising copywriter from LA. They are apparently paying $120 for their room.

17TH SUNDAY
Gourmet Mexican breakfast. Take Mario’s guided tour of the Copper Canyons in a van with the American family. 67 switchbacks to bottom. View exhilarating & terrifying straight down inches from van's tires. Visit water spring at top of canyon and snap photos. Abortive attempt to hike down canyon trail. Carl, Paul, and old woman can’t make it. Adrian and other real men continue. Visit the indigenous Indian town of Urique at the bottom of the canyon. Mess around on suspension bridge across the river, go for lunch of little burrito rolls on the riverbank. Carl insists on an expedition to cross swiftly flowing river, goads Adrian who thinks idea sucks. Adrian crosses river 3 times while Carl and David discuss hazards and cold water temperature. Eventually all cross, then get lost finding trail back to bridge & are savaged by mosquitoes. Return to hotel in van. Carl hounds Mario for Spanish lessons, history of area & indians. Hang around hotel, Carl and Paul enjoy a motorcycle maintenance session. Adrian strikes up a conversation with fellow writer David, Carl jealous. Temperature drops suddenly, Adrian picks up nice little cold. Dinner gourmet again, though conversation stilted. Anticipating parting ways with Paul the next day, so swap digital photos via the laptop he has along in a “Penguin” case, also mp3s, etc. Adrian discovers pair of Mexican mining engineers staying at hotel, chats them up about small gold mine under construction in Piedras Verdes. Late night good-natured UK vs US style banter in hotel room. Paul serenades the Amis with humorous Mp3s. Adrian shivers and sniffles all night. Carl stays up all night finishing fascinating book about Pancho Villa. Paul is well-rested.

18TH MONDAY
Up early, breakfast at 8 featuring delicious watermelon milk. Carl and Paul spend an hour packing and preparing their bikes, Adrian wanders around, by now used to waiting for his collegues. Finally get underway, dirt and gravel road continues down more dramatic switchbacks to town of Bahuchivo. Only gas on the way is some guy with a homemade gas station. Adrian allows Carl to handle situation, guy cheats Adrian out of $5 or 6 in gas. Adrian too tired and sick to get into it. More complaining about road on part of Carl. Paul can’t wait to hit “tarmac.” Much asking of directions in town, finally find right road, more of the same cowboy-type territory. Beautiful storybook country. Road winds dramatically through forests wedged between tall canyon walls, tiny villages, many water crossings. Carl's bike rattles loose pannier rack bolt of some sort requiring 30 minute stop. Adrian finally dumps bike on particularly rocky uphill, but is far enough ahead to get it up before Carl and Paul arrive to snap photos. Breaks left mirror mount, brushes self off, continues. Carl and Paul straddle-walk bikes up hill. Finally reach paved highway, Carl and Paul ecstatically tear around winding curves, Adrian suddenly well in rear. Take air cleaner doors off KLRs, which improves performance after dusty conditions. Adrian a living snot factory. Lunch in town of Creel. Adrian accepts Carl’s offer to use his extra mirror mount with reservations about Carl’s warped sense of justice. Say goodbyes to Paul, then take long way to next town to avoid road construction. Road is about twice as long, and can’t seem to stop winding. Sight distances go for about 100 yards before the next blind turn. Again, don’t make it anywhere before nightfall, descend long winding road out of the mountains in the dark as the air gets warmer. Finally find unmarked hotel in small semi-town in the countryside, eat dinner at unmarked restaurant. Restaurant consists of a woman watching TV in a back room behind a small pale blue dining room with swarms of bugs flitting around fluorescent lights, spoken menu consists of quesadillas and bean burritos, seemingly cooked in a microwave. Hotel seems clean enough, although none of the bedding matches. Carl picking up Adrian’s cold. Adrian reads aloud from For Whom the Bell Tolls. Chew on some earlier arguments, get to sleep.

19TH TUESDAY
Relatively early start after some trouble starting Adrian’s bike in early morning dew, so-so breakfast in hotel kitchen. Strike off for Hermosillo. Carl is alerted to his rear sprocket showing signs of serious wear by having chain jump off at inopportune moment. We continue on the eternally windy road, some turns going 180 degrees, like a motorcycle advertisement for hours. Trucks come around turns in wrong lane. Livestock wander in the road. Potholes everywhere. Carl in lead gets to scatter the vultures routinely parked in clusters in the middle of the road. He almost "catches" slow ones several times. Carl sick, complaining. Reasons to stop multiply thanks to his nose blowing and chain checking. Among many stops, he collects heart-shaped cactus on side of road for wife, picks up several prickly pear hairs that proceed to enter insides of gloves. At Hermosillo, Carl calls Kawasaki dealer in Redding, CA, estimated to be the point in the road where we will be before an order for a new rear sprocket would arrive. [Thank God I did this!] Lunch at outdoor seafood stand in mini-mart parking lot, $6, Carl suspicious of gringo prices. Road becomes dead-straight toll highway past town, incredibly boring. Carl outraged to discover the CD Paul burned from him contains a mere 19 crappy mp3s he's heard a million times instead of the amusing stuff from the other night, swears to never drink tea again in protest. Consider motel past military checkpoint(Carl too sick to admire their weapons this time), press on to town of Santa Ana, no relation to the general. Find cheap motel with old Mexican proprietor who looks and speaks American. Carl swears he is an old gringo "on the lam" in Mexico. Explosive argument on way from health food store and into restaurant. Later go in search of strip club, get beer, go to bank twice, politely berated by cops for walking around on the street with beers but urged to "chug" beers instead of pouring out, do laundry, strip club closed Tuesdays, watch English-language TV with Spanish subtitles.

20TH WEDNS
Enter barren desert country, no plants, nothing. Adrian’s bike has picked up oil leak out of side case. Lunch at godforsaken truck stop takes forever to make fried chicken. Adrian’s bike starts overheating in midday desert, stop at some sort of settlement made out of haphazardly put together wood, looks like a knickknack store or maybe they collect old car parts. Guy in aviator glasses appears, starts incomprehensibly offering things. Turns out to be French. Becomes
apparent that he is crazy. Wait for bike to cool down, go in search of rag at Carl’s suggestion to sop up oil and avoid it catching fire. Man leads Adrian to pile of trash near desert, picks out some likely rag-like implements, tells Adrian long story in Spanish with French accent involving a plane crash nearby and a pregnant woman who delivered her baby out of the wreckage and the wonder of a new life in the world and the value of helping people.Later launches into story of how he arrived in Mexico by spaceship, then goes off to bring back “rocket parts” to show us, consisting of some intricate pieces of trash. Carl stuffs a rag next to Adrian’s side case to sop up oil, we leave the man with his rocket parts. Rag catches fire within 5 minutes and burns housing off Adrian’s clutch cable. Adrian pulls over, considers flame, bemused over the surreality of it all. Calls Carl over to see it. Carl freaks out, frantically scrabbles for water bottle. He extinguishes flames, then loudly bemoans Adrian's lack of fire-fighting ability while flames are licking at his groin. Argument immediately ensues regarding financial responsibility for replacement of burnt cable. Finally reach Mexicali after long straight suburban road along the border, pass border patrol trucks, can see the fence separating from the US. Carl chats with Mexican at gas station about how it isn’t so easy to sneak across the border anymore these days. Make way through town, find border, go through long awkward process of finding appropriate bureaucratic offices to process paperwork (no one would tell you to do this, to say of nothing of where to do it, but if you don’t you are supposedly charged a $400 fine from the Mexican government on the credit card you let them make an impression of for the vehicle permit). Night falls, stay in well-appointed $40 hotel near border crossing with private parking. Carl sick and grouchy. Adrian unsympathetic. Good Chinese food for $3 but difficult to obtain chopsticks. More Mexican TV.

21ST THURS
Get usual morning start, not early enough to miss morning traffic through border, which takes an hour. Back in states, ride for LA to pick up Carl’s stuff from Ryan’s place. Outside San Diego pass through light military checkpoint, presumably Homeland Security, eerie. Stop at same motorcycle dealer for new chain for Carl, Thai food lunch, more motorcycle shop, Carl emails wife from coffee shop. Adrian goes to get Carl’s stuff 30 miles up the PCH, Carl phones wife. Don’t make it to freeway before rush hour traffic hits. Spend an enjoyable hour riding the shoulders and darting among lines of slow-moving cars. Proves to be a popular sport among LA motorcyclists. Spot enormous forest fire, resembles huge black, low-lying cloud ringed by red line. Like a literal definition of Hell on Earth. Night falls, stop at some God-knows-what town on I-5, sleep in an RV park.


22ND FRI
Slip out of RV park in morning without paying. Road incredibly windy, bikes perched over by 15 degrees or so, continual struggle to stay upright. Carl continually blown from one side of lane to other, several times into other lane and shoulder. Informed it’s windy here but not usually this windy. Carl’s chain slips frequently, must keep stopping to tighten. Must make it to Redding, Carl keeps tightening and hoping. Make it to an exit 40 miles out of Redding before Carl can’t go further. Sprocket is worn almost completely smooth. Adrian makes ride to dealer to get sprocket before they close in one hour, rides bike too fast and it overheats. Pulls over to discover side case covered in oil, dripping on ground. Gets new oil, gets to gas station, helpful BMW rider informs him that oil is coming out of everywhere, surprised he made it that far. Adrian gets Carl’s sprocket. Both bikes have miraculously broken down not in remote Mexico, but in Redding, CA, home of Cam, the enthusiastic KLR-owning man with a shop we met on the way down. Cam is as mind-blowingly helpful as promised, picks up both bikes in flatbed, takes us out to his large wooded compound, er, property outside Redding. His shop is an immense steel barn he built himself and is stocked with every tool imaginable. He is a retired LA cop who still receives 90% of his salary in pension. He brings out a generous vegan meal of pasta, green salad, and Clif bars, and stays up late with us working on bike problems. He shares Carl’s interest in bikes and guns, though Carl is more jealous of the man than pleased to meet him. Adrian notes how it is impossible to look at Cam & not see Carl in 20 years. Carl gets his sprocket and chain fixed, Adrian glues RTV around his side case to fix what we hope is a gasket leak. Go to sleep on Cam’s shop floor, which is surprisingly comfortable.

23RD SAT
Wake up to put Adrian’s bike back together. Carl vs. Adrian arguments flare up again, and we ask Cam to act as judge and resolve them once and for all. Cam, a retired police sergeant, is very fair and deliberate in his decisions, which we agree to abide by. Leave Cam’s in flurry of good wishes, hoping Adrian’s bike is on the mend. Reach Redding dealer, more than apparent Adrian’s bike is not on mend. Oil still dripping, making drastic puddles in dealer parking lot. Determine oil is blowing out the breather hose. So-called KLR mechanic at shop suggests bike is overfull with oil, which is clearly not the problem, but he is generous with rags, drip pan, oil disposal. Shop wants $80 just to look at the bike. Carl attempts several unlikely solutions including putting in a heavier grade of oil and rigging up a hose on the breather diverting the oil to a plastic water bottle on side of bike. Bike blows more seals on trip around the block. Finally just call Cam back and arrange to store the bike in his shed, take a Greyhound home. Carl switches batteries with Adrian, since his has been dead and his bike has required a push start for several days. Adrian begrudges trade, since devalues bike for possible sale. After verbal agreement to compensate Adrian for cost of battery, Carl strikes off for home, Adrian gets ride from Cam to bus station. Carl spends long cold night riding to Seattle, alone with his frozen extremities, while Adrian hangs out around typically shitty Redding bus station neighborhood. Bus doesn’t leave til 12am. Adrian has drinks at local bar, gets bored, goes for long walk around town, turns out 12am bus is full, has to wait until 2am, although bus station closes at 12. Hangs out in back of station with kid from New York who looks like a teenage dropout and seems to be perpetually high and rambles softly in conversation about a spiritual journey and a girl he knows, but he is nice enough and a decent buffer between Adrian and the next kid who rolls up on a dirt bike and announces that he just got out of prison. Meanwhile, Carl has wrapped his legs in plastic garbage bags, put latex gloves on under his cold-weather gloves & presses on with grim determination.


24TH SUNDAY
8.5 hours & 4 Red Bulls later, Carl arrives home early morning, peels frozen fingers from bars & staggers to bed. Adrian spends day listening to the usual Greyhound chatter in the back of the bus, arrives in Centralia about 4pm to get Carl’s truck towed with AAA. Man with storage facility not answering phone, Carl forgot to write name or address. Hang around for hour or two trying to track it down. Carl does research from Seattle. Finally get hold of the guy, take a cab up there, wait for tow truck, sit down for a hamburger with the storage man and talk about bikes, trips, whatever. He used to be a small plane pilot, says bikes are more dangerous. Ride back with tow truck driver, who is obese man with small yappy dog in truck and thankfully not given to conversation. Ride comes in at just under 100 miles. Adrian jumps in Blazer, blazes happily home.

25TH MONDAY
Carl starts school, Adrian starts work. Both decide it's best not to talk for a while.


CARL'S NOTES:

WHAT BROKE:

  • My bike: Speedo cable, battery boiled 100% dry, sprocket + chain, mystery stalls in mountains(Wet plug from water-crossings? Low fuel & aftermarket inline fuel filter? Clogged air filter & high altitude?) , air filters fouled(had 2 remove door), tires sucked off-road, lost several bolts, rr brk started working badly, eventually useless. Sidestand worn/bent to point where bike sits at 45degree angle to ground. Broke kill switch trying to take apart to see how to fix Adrian's.
  • Adrian's Bike: Speedo irregularity, battery boiled 1/2 dry, ate oil(eventually killed motor, in my opinion), oil leak(do not stuff rag next 2 exhaust), fork seals, clogged air filter(taking door off helped), overheating(removed thermostat), hard starting(starting fluid), headlt burnt out, lost side cover bolt, exh cvr bolts, speedo gear in bkwds, broke off kill switch(finger ring on tankbag caught it). Knobby rear tire completely roached by highway to & from Mex. Eventually motor started blowing oil out breather hose into carb & blowing out seals(bad rings?).
  • A small pack of extra off-sized bolts was VERY helpful! The picture to the right shows most of the bolts/cotter pins/hardware we lost.
  • We improvised a lot on this trip. Adrian's bike had a tall windscreen, comfy seat & he didn't care about highway bars. I didn't have time to prep my bike as well as I would've liked(we worked our asses off the week before we left), so when I found out we were gonna ride South three days straight, I bought the Airhawk cushion off the net, made a tall "windshield" out of a safety shield & metal strapping & made highway bars/toolbox out of PVC pipe. It didn't look perfect, but it worked!
  • Wish we'd brought more chain lube. We learned halfway down California that we should be lubing every evening, when riding all day. The sprays we bought were gone in a week. The Mexican lube available wasn't horrible but wasn't great. Best would have been to have installed Scotoilers or similar systems.


LESSONS
  • Only idiots go to Baja in summer--too hot & everything is closed.
  • Take lots of cash in small bills. Banks are rare & no-one likes to make change. Really.
  • Mexican maps suck. & their gas stations usually have nothing but gas(if you're lucky) & oil. Bring your own maps! One of those travel rolls of TP's a good idea too.
  • For 2 guys, security no problem. Rarely used cable locks or covers. However, almost never left bikes alone in towns/cities. Tried to park next to restaurants, markets, etc to keep an eye on or took turns watching.
  • S Baja is much greener than the North. The very South is wet hot & has many bugs--no open visors out of town.
  • Had to ride @ night several times. Not fun, but not as dangerous as the guidebooks said. DID once almost run over a dead donkey in road...
  • After 3 or 4th day in Baja, stopped taking photos of road washed out or deep sand all over road or animals on road, etc as it became routine.
  • A lot of towns in Baja have no gas available. You learn to ask the locals about the towns ahead, conditions of the road, etc. They are always friendly & helpful. After a close call South of San Filipe, we bought gas cans for an emergency backup & filled up every 50 miles.
  • Security--We initially carried two wallets--one with a few cancelled credit cards & some cash. We hid the real one. I wore a money belt for the first few days. After a week we just put everything in one wallet. We didn't bother with the ritual on the way back & actually spent a few days in Mexicali. No probs. The Mexicans I talked to said Fox has really turned things around, at least for the gringo turistas!
  • Get permits at the border; it's easier & cheaper than at the ferry in LaPaz.
  • Topes(speedbumps) kill suspensions, many are not marked.
  • Permanent signs (ie, “curvas peligrosas“)=unnecessary, but pay attention to the temporary signs!
  • Soaked helmet/ thermo vest in water to deal w heat, helmet started smelling bad. Thermo vest acted like sponge, kept me cool on road for 5 hours. PSrider sells them. Also brought pressurised "MistyMate"/camelback. Worked great off the bike to keep cool--like wearing your own AC. Wish I'd had these two items in Iraq!
  • Greatly recommend The Adventure Motorcycling Handbook & Riding South.
  • Rode w face-shield/visor up most of time. Flip-face helmets are a Godsend.
  • Value of compass in back-country!
  • Do not play with cacti--U will b sorry.
  • Kept tiny squirt-bottle & rag in tankbag for visor cleaning without stopping.
  • 16-tooth sprocket recommended for long ride on slab.
  • Water bottles were Carl & Adrian's choice. Paul favored his camelback. Advantages to the WB=Can easily fill, can buy cold, can use for washing/spraying face, no weight on back. Requires open-face helmet & fearless ability to ride with one hand. Camelback more convenient to carry, usable even while holding on for dear life with both hands for extended periods, can spray self or nearby overly-talkative Americans.


Bees: Adrian was stung once & I twice by bees in Mexico. The three times were all on the northern half of baja, neve r on the mainland. Adrian got it in the chest, one flew into my sleeve and another time one got into my helmet, almost causing an accident

MP3 player: I would never attempt a trip like this without some sort of music-player. Maybe this labels me an ADD, MTV-generation-rider, but my MP3 player was the most important piece of equipment besides my bike. I didn't just listen to music but also feel that I learned a lot of Spanish from the CDs I brought along, especially on the incredibly monotonous three days from Seattle to the border. I used a cheap mp3 player & burnt CDs f or it before leaving. My friend brought a newer Ipod clone but could not change folders while riding. He also had difficulty charging it & his stock earphones were not loud enough, so I ended up loaning him my Koss foam plugs when he wanted to learn Spanish. I very much recommend the Koss foam-style plugs to cancel wind noise & produce loud enough sound. Ebay has them for $12 including S&H. Make sure & get the blue, compact ones, not the too-big white ones.

Water: After being repeatedly warned not to drink anything with ice-cubes in it or eat anything washed(salad) & not cooked, we were kind of paranoid for the first few days. Every Mexican waiter assured us that the ice came from purified bags & Baja's water wasn't too bad these days anyway but we didn't buy it. Only after some gringos told us the same thing a little farther South did we relax. I DID get sick, but a month later, as we were leaving Mexico from the Mainland side.

If anyone out there reading this is planning a similar trip, pls email & I would be happy to assist in any way possible. My email is

carl.larson.seattle (at) gmail.com

Buena
suerte!