Baja for Christmas!

(All I wanted was a tan for Christmas…)

 

So there I was facing yet another dismally cold and wet Christmas in the San Francisco Bay Area.  The forecast continued to predict rain and more rain for day after day.  Typically I just go to work, enjoy my day off for Christmas, eat and drink way too much and then go back to work the next day.  This year would be different.  This year I wanted something special for Christmas.  A nice tan.

 

I worked out the details with my boss and ended up taking the 21st through the 1st off from work.  Seems that I was not so important that they couldn’t do without me for a couple of weeks.  I went home, loaded up the Tiger and pulled out the maps.  First stop, Los Angeles!  I decided to hammer on down the freeway to LA for a couple days R and R.  I spent my time well hanging with the girls and seeing famous movie stars.  Despite the good drenching I got going down (hard rain for nearly 300 miles) the weather in LA was clear and beautiful.  But enough of that, it’s time to ride South!

 

Monday morning I rolled out of LA and down I-5 toward San Diego.  Normally I would enjoy the fun backroads but today I needed to make time and get across the border.  My plan was to head to Canyon de Guadalupe for a little hot water and solitude.  I cut across on 8 and then found my way to Highway 94, a fun twisty mountain road that takes you from rural San Diego to the border.  I was over the border by 1pm and heading East on Mexico Highway 2.  As I slowly rose in altitude I noticed a good wind chill happening.  Been there done that.  Was reminiscing about my first time in Baja where I got snowed in up at Laguna Hansen when I spied a car coming from the opposite direction.  There was something white and shiny on the hood.  Snow?

 

Sure enough as I topped the 1500-meter mark I found bits of snow everywhere in the mountains.  It was quite beautiful!  I’m sure glad I brought my electric vest and had my electric grips on the Tiger.  Life can be wonderful in the cold when you’re warm.  Thank you Widder!  I passed over and down the Rumorosa Grade into the valley West of Mexicali.  Soon I spied my turnoff, a little sign next to the road indicating that way to the canyon.  Making the right turn to head south I had 30 miles of dirt, gravel, sand and cactus to deal with…not a problem when you ride a Tiger!  As I motored along enjoying the wide-open spaces I began to notice little things like fields of newly planted olive trees and other signs of cultivation.  This was not quite the wasteland I imagined.

 

About 25 miles down the road I found the turnoff to head into the canyon.  It was pretty nondescript and yet perfect.  To the West and directly ahead of me lay the vast chain of mountains that comprise northern Baja.  The hot springs were nestled into the side of this mountain chain at the foot of a wonderfully rugged and beautiful canyon.  It was the picture of a classic oasis with palm trees and greenery everywhere.  I pulled up in front of Arturo’s and smiled.  I’ve made it!

 

I managed to find a nice little campsite complete with tub for a party of 5 or so, a picnic table and a big flat spot for my tent.  It was completely surrounded by palm trees and commanded a nice view of the mountain behind me.  I was somewhat shaded from the other campsites so it was nice and quite.  I immediately setup camp and then slipped into the water.  Soon I was allowing all the tension and stress of the end of my work year, Christmas shopping, Holiday madness and the road to slip from my body.  As I lay there I thought back to the early part of my riding and traveling career.  I remembered all the doubts that used to grip me before every trip.  The internal arguments I had regarding taking the time off from work, the leave I would be taking and the miles I would have to travel.  I have to say I’m very glad I overcame those doubts and arguments and hit the road.  I refuse to get old and look back at my life saying, “Gee, I sure wish I’d done that…”

 

I finished up my day soaking in the tub while admiring the myriad stars and galaxies drifting over my head.  Nothing better than camping out in the desert under the stars…

 

Later on the next morning as I was contemplating my navel I heard voices and saw a couple people pass by.  Within minutes they were passing by again.  We struck up a conversation only to realize that we were all from the same community of motorcyclists.  Turbo Tom was down in Baja with his girlfriend and a host of characters associated with Munroe Motors of San Francisco.  An hour later I was hanging out in their campsite enjoying freshly ground mixed drinks thanks to their handy dandy chainsaw blender.  Whoo hoo!  This is the life!

 

Later that afternoon we all took a hike up into the canyon.  We found a rugged trail loosely marked with white arrows and strewn with large boulders, cactus, palm trees and more.  We also found a gorgeous swimming hole fed by a small stream coming down the middle of the canyon.  This time of year it was a bit too chilly to jump in but I could definitely see it in use later on in the summer.  It helped that the guys brought along the blender with some ice and pina colada mix.  Whew, this hiking stuff is hard work!

 

After our hike I headed back to camp for a nap.  Some of the others went for a short ride out the sand wash and into the other canyons.  Later I spent the afternoon in and out of the tub with some time spent lazing in the sun.  After all, when in Baja you must do your part to absorb some of the ambient radiation so you have proof of your visit to share with the folks back home.  You know, the ones hiding in their houses trying to stay warm and dry because of all the wet weather…

 

So the next day we loaded up our vehicles, me with the bike and the rest with their vans and pickup and headed out of the canyon.  We decided to try the southern route out through the desert and across the dry lakebed.  I was a little hesitant due to my limited quantity of gasoline but the guys assured me that they would provide should I need more.  Soon I was zooming on down the road with vehicles in tow.  Tom was breathing down my neck with his giagantor E350 Ford 4x4 van.  I wicked it up a bit and lost him in the sandy two-track.  Soon the road became marked with enduro course arrows.  I got into the groove and was having a blast until the sand became deeper and trickier.  A 500-pound bike with an extra 100 pounds of gear is not the perfect vehicle for deep sand.  I nearly tossed it down once and ended up sideway across the trail.  Later I did lose concentration and dropped the bike at low speed.  I was getting pretty tired.

 

At one point I realized that I had no idea where we were nor were the guys behind me.  I stopped to check my bearings and then decided to backtrack.  The trail led down into a deep wash and I wasn’t sure I should be entering it.  I came back to a section of the trail where it was obvious the guys had gone off trail looking for the right way out to the pavement.  I started to follow and then pulled up short after a half-mile or so.  I didn’t want to wander aimlessly and my fuel level was low.  I heard the vehicles off to the north and realized they were doubling back to the main route.

 

Ultimately we had played a round robin in the desert and they had gotten by me without seeing me.  By this time the sun was low on the horizon and I was getting low on energy and gas.  I decided to leave a note on a stack of rocks and head back toward Mexicali.  No sense getting lost out here.  As the sun set to the west I chose to push on a little further before finally throwing in the towel and camping out for the night in the middle of nowhere.  Actually I rather enjoyed it.  There was an absolutely clear night sky with no wind out.  I lay out for a couple hours enjoying the solitude before turning in for the night.  So much for our grand adventure!

 

In the morning I shot up to the pavement and raced into Mexicali.  Topping off the tank I spied a nice little taco stand.  Fortified with two carne asada tacos I was ready to gobble up the 125 miles of pavement to San Felipe!  Yee ha!  I rolled in to SF by noon and met up with the gang.  They had been slightly worried about me the night before.  With a lot of work they had made it out of the desert and down to San Felipe.  They arrived somewhere around 8pm.  Now they were loading up and heading further south to the Bay of Gonzaga.  I bade them farewell as I checked into the El Capitan and quickly dove into the bathroom for a long hot shower.  That night I celebrated my return to civilization with a nice filet mignon, baked potato, salad and cervesas.  Yeah, life is tough!

 

The next morning I zoomed on South following the tracks of the others.  The 50 miles of pavement to Puertocitos is barely that.  90% of it is deep potholes with treacherous vados and snarly sand wash.  After Puertocitos you have another 50 miles of bad washboard dirt road.  In places it’s so rough that you either have to crank up the speed to 50 or so or slow to a crawl.  It took me nearly 2 hours to do those 50 miles with a couple of stops to catch my breath.  But it was worth it!  In the end I arrived to meet even more of the SF gang who asked if I was the lost soul of the desert.  I nodded my head and was immediately handed an ice cold Tecate.  See, there are rewards for effort!

 

I spent two days lounging on the beach enjoying the sun, sand and shrimp of Gonzaga Bay.  I made a couple visits to Alfonsina’s for lunch and dinner.  Her Camarones al Mojo de Ajo is spectacular!  The best garlic shrimp in all of Mexico!  The view of the bay is not too bad either!  Hanging with the Munroe gang I was entertained with the antics of the dirt bikers, Mike’s music mix and the general camaraderie of good friends.  I hated to have to leave but they were going further south to Bahia de Los Angeles while I was to turn tail and run north to Vegas.

 

My ride from Gonzaga to Vegas was entertaining to say the least.  I nailed it hard and flew over the washboard.  At least for the most part.  I did manage to nail something hard and from that point on the Tiger made some funny noises and the handling got weird.  I later found that I put a notch in my headset bearings such that my handlebars really didn’t want to move from their centered position.  Made for some interesting times in low speed turns in the city.  The howling winds across the dry lakebed and into the lower part of California were interesting.  Never have I had a bike leaned so far over while going in a straight line!  Passing through Glamis I became one with the sand as the wind picked up everything in sight and raced across the dunes.

 

By nightfall I was flying along at low altitude passing through Blythe, Needles, Searchlight and finally into Vegas.  Ultimately I covered 570 miles in my mad dash return to civilization.  Again I couldn’t have done it without my electric vest and heated grips.  It was in the 30’s at night out there and at 80 mph the wind chill is pretty stiff.  Having a hot bath with a touch of leftover tequila made it all better.  That and a comfy hotel bed….

 

Morning.  The dawn of a new day.  I quickly packed up my bags, grabbed a good breakfast at trusty old Denny’s and then made tracks for the Guggenheim.  It was time for the show.  I’d been jonesing to get to Vegas for over a year now and finally I was able to make it.  Everyone I’d talked to said it was an amazing exhibit.  From what I could see on the web site I knew I wouldn’t be disappointed.  Sure enough, I wasn’t.

 

It wasn’t just the fact that there were motorcycles there.  It was more than that.  The displays were incredible.  Polished steel sheet metal arranged in wavy road-shaped patterns with the bikes arrayed in raceresque poses throughout.  Two trials bikes side by side on a nearly vertical run.  One a vintage model from yesteryear, the other a current model from last year.  It really was quite amazing.  That and the technology.  Bicycles with wooden wheels and tiny little motors attached dating from the late 1800’s.  All manner of locomotion in a wide array of formats.  Singles, twins, triples, fours, sixes, and eights.  You name it they had it.  It really is hard to describe.  Unfortunately as of the time of this article the show is closing.  It’s made the rounds of all the museums and now the bikes will be returned to their owners.  Too bad.

 

After making the rounds it was time to hit the road yet again.  Today I would bomb up I-95 to Beatty, stop for pie and then head to Death Valley.  Coming over the pass and down into the valley was just amazing.  It’s such a complex and enchanting place.  Even in the winter you can’t help but feel awe by the rugged mountains and wide salt plains.  The temperature down in Furnace Creek was in the comfortable 60-degree range.  After paying my park fees I rode back over toward Stovepipe Wells and then hit the cutoff for Wild Rose.  Unfortunately the light was slowly going away because I had lingered so long in getting here so I made tracks for the campsite at Wild Rose. 

 

Brrrr!  Coming over the top of the pass I was greeted by the now familiar sight of snow on the ground.  Even here there were patches of snow lurking in the shadows.  I arrived at the campsite and began looking for Dr. Mo.  It was at his invitation that I was now here.  Unfortunately he was nowhere in sight.  Heeding the call of nature I made tracks for the nearest bush.  About the time I started taking care of things who should arrive but Morris.  Ah well, timing is everything.  We soon had a nice fire going and enjoyed a couple of Chico’s finest while chatting away about the valley and my travels.  There’s nothing better than a good campfire chat.  Especially when you are out in the open air with a zillion stars above.

 

In the morning I was treated to eggs and bacon a la chef Mo.  I needed it too!  I think I burned a few thousand calories that night trying to stay warm.  I distinctly remembered the sound of snow falling on my tent around 2am or so.  Luckily my sleeping bag is rated for that sort of thing.  Sure helped having all my fleece on as well as my wool socks!  I soon had the bike loaded up and ready to go.  It was New Year’s Eve and I was suffering from a bad case of get-home-itis.  As I departed the campground I noticed some pretty severe looking clouds to the west.  Of course it was going to rain on me.  It had to.  This trip started in difficult weather and it obviously had to end on the same note. Sure enough I had to deal with incredible cross winds while traversing the hills down to Mojave.  Rain in places over the Tehachapi Mountains as well as showers here and there up the central valley.  But 460 miles later I rolled into my driveway with the biggest grin on my face.  I was home again.

 

In all I rode over 2300 miles in 11 days.  That included 3 days of zero mileage and one day of nearly 600 miles.  By the time I got home the Tiger showed 90,000 miles on the odometer, a personal record surpassing the 61,000 miles on my 1986 GSX-R.  I also managed to put over 31,000 miles on two wheels for the entire year, which is also another personal record.  You gotta love it!  So now that it’s 2003 where should I go?  Hmm, grab that map and let’s start planning….

 

Craig

 

Photos!