Devil's Backbone

When a road gets the name, The Devil's Backbone, you know its going to be an interesting piece of asphalt.  After a long, shoulder and mind numbing ride on the toll roads the day before, from Los Mochis (backtracking a bit) to Mazatlan, and a "crap" night sleep at the sex motel, I was intrigued by this road north to Durango. My goal was to get as close to San Miguel Allende as possible, so that the final day of the three day trip would be a short one. Once there, I would be staying for about a week. 

Soon after leaving Mazatlan (sea level) and heading northeast on Hwy 40 I started "up". Within two hours my GPS unit was registering over 9,000 feet.  The roads were tight and twisty, really twisty. So twisty, that semis had to come to a complete stop before entering a turn in order to allow an "opposing" semi to come through its turn. And, when you came across an opposing semi mid-turn, he had to take up both lanes to get through it. There was no way of knowing what was coming around the next bend. Trucks, sand and a lack of proper road camber when built, made one take the corners with caution, not sport (like Hwy 1 in California).  That said, it was a beautiful road-more so because I had never expected it. Mexico has proven to have many hidden surprises. Beautiful, but it was the longest 150-miles I have ever experienced. It was obvious enough, but the numerous road memorials dotting the were a constant reminder to "PAY ATTENTION!"

Holy Week and Sex Motels

Everything about this trip has been great. There are periods of loneliness, and some sore muscles on occasion, but I can't complain. BUT, if I were to complain, it would be about spending so much on hotels. I am sure this is primarily my fault because I haven't yet honed my travel "skills", but to date, the cheapest hotel I have stayed has been in Oregon! 

I did a little research while in Alamos, and talked to some of the local ex-pats about my predicament. The same thing came up time-and-time again - sex motels, "no-tell motel", "hot sheets", etc. Okay, I guess I have seen them, and have vaguely heard about them, but didn't realize they were so popular with the "general population". 

Works like this:  you enter into the walled compound and drive into one of the open garage doors. Close garage door. There is a Lazy Susan type of cylinder embedded into the wall. Soon after arriving your bill rotates from the outside to inside of the room (based on a six hour period), you pay, and leave in six-hours, 12-hours if its been negotiated ahead of time. Room Service works the same way (I had an okay club sandwich and a couple $1 beers). 

I must admit, the rooms were very clean and the secure parking was perfect. I couldn't get the lights to brighten more than their fixed "mood" setting, and the television programming would be the envy of any fraternity house. I opted for reruns of Entourage on the laptop and crashed early. 

The kicker was that this was Wednesday night, right smack in the middle of holy week. Thursday and Friday were part of the national holiday, and kids had been out of school all week. Semana Santa is the second most celebrated holiday in Mexico, after Christmas. Traditionally, families often head to the coastal towns for a spring vacation. Therefore, the rates were doubled, and I had no bargaining power. My $18 room was now going to cost me $36. Duped again!

Alamos and True Crime in Mexico

I was excited to get to Alamos. When I first announced my plans to travel south, a chiropractic patient of mine had put me in touch with Hal and Anne. They had recently sold their home in the Seattle area and had bought a hacienda just outside Alamos' town square to restore. Eventually, they would starting taking in guests, I believe that I was their first legit customer. 

Rolling into town through the town square, I took an instant liking to the place. The cobblestone roads lead to an energetic central plaza positioned at the steps of a 250-year old Baroque church. It had a good energy to it, and I was glad to be there. 

I found Hal and Anne's place with ease, to my surprise. We introduced ourselves and I was directed to pull my bike into their walled courtyard area. It was hot, so I excused myself to get out of my riding suit before anything else. That done, we were talking in the courtyard while I was unloading the bike, kinda giving me the lay of the land, when a young boy walked into the patio area from inside the house. "Hola", he says rather awkwardly. Must be the pool boy here to get to work, I thought. Hal turned around, sees him, and yells "GRAB HIM!" Lunges for the kid and takes hold of his wrist. He yells for Anne to call "611, Policia!" Now the kid and Hal are on the patio floor, elbows and knees bloodied. The kid is crying out for his "momma". "JESUS", I thought to myself, what are these people into? Did the kid fail to get all the leaves out of the pool? I don't really know these people, DAMN! I don't know what to do - do I help Hal? Do I help the kid? Do I get on my bike and get the hell out of there? 

I walk over to get some sort of explanation. The kid mellows and Hal gives me the skinny on the situation. I get some large zip-ties off the bike and we cuff the kid to the iron gate. Some neighbors eventually show up, and then a couple of cops. 

Hal, who is a few years my senior, was at the mayor's office the night before, along with many other concerned gringo residents. The kid was there as part of a police line-up. A judge present at the line-up told residents that per Mexican law, you must catch this kid on your premises, you cannot simply accuse him. Also, per Mexican law, they don't really know what to do with him until he turns 12-years old (he's nine now).  

Apparently, this kid has been terrorizing the town folk by walking into their homes (nobody locks their doors here-or use to not), and go through purses, grabbing keys to return later, and just generally filling his pockets. Some of these citizens are in their 90's and quite frail.  If he gets caught by someone, he simply acts insolent and runs out, or plays innocent and says that he had come in to ask for a glass of water. The cops that had come to pick him up had him in their possession 30-minutes prior to coming to Hal's. The kid has no fear! I learn much more of the story over the next couple of days. It was the talk of the town, Alamos' "Most Wanted" had been captured.

Of course, this is a tragic story for many reasons. The kids mom is in prison in Tiajuana for theft, his brother was brutally murdered. The story goes that the grandmother taught them all how to steal. The grandmother also works at City Hall, which may be why this kid may be so "protected".  Things are obviously going to escalate. He is going to get killed, or eventually wind up in prison, and someone is going to suffer a broken hip, or worse in the process. This is a good introduction on how Mexico is "different". 

Turns out that Hal and Anne are "good people", the best, and Alamos is truly a special place. Story has it, that Coronado first set camp here in 1540, and things really got kickin' when silver was discovered in 1630. In fact, the money made here financed the Spanish expeditions that later founded Los Angles and San Francisco. The entire town of Alamos has been desiginated as a national historic monument. 

The landscape is unique as it sits on the cusp of desert and dry tropical forest. This makes it desirable to a variety of birds, plants and pot growers. 

My original plan was to explore the Copper Canyon area that is a bit of northeast of here, but that is going to have to wait until another time. I really enjoyed my three nights here and definitely look forward to returning.  

(The "kid" was caught breaking into a car the day before I left. I also just recently got word that the city is going to send the kid to a juvenile detention center, which is best for all.)

Leaving Baja

Well, it doesn't always work out as planned, does it?  After spending three days in Loreto I was eager to get down to La Paz and jump on the evening ferry. It would sail through the night and unload about sunrise on Saturday. This would save me from getting a hotel the night before it's departure (if I were forced to take the afternoon ferry) and another hotel stay on the mainland, due to the fact that the 3:00 ferry wouldn't get in until well after dark.  I would get a cabin on the ferry and sleep, and roll off with the new day. I would be in Alamos by lunchtime Saturday. 

I rolled into La Paz to find quite a bit of traffic.  I found a taxi that would take me to the ferry offices - I would follow.  At the ticket window, I was informed that there wasn't going to be an evening ferry, tonight or tomorrow night. No explanation, just not going to happen. So much for making plans. I was forced to get a hotel in La Paz and again in Los Mochis on the mainland. This would delay my arrival into Alamos until Sunday afternoon and put a dent in my hotel budget. 

The next morning I was first in line at the port offices getting my Mexican temporary vehicle permit ($30), and my ferry ticket. I would have to remember to cancel the vehicle permit before leaving Mexico - it's a guarantee that I don't sell the bike while in Mexico, and if don't prove that I am exiting with the bike my credit card gets charge - don't want to find out how much. 

The ferry ride was essentially uneventful. A nice sunset on the port side, while a school of dolphins were on the starboard side. I had the only bike on the ferry (the largest I have ever been on), and was last to load, so only fair that I was the first off. 

Coco's Corner

Coco is an absolute legend to all that travel these parts. As George W. would say, "use the Google", and you will find pages and pages on this guy. Short story is that many years ago the Mexican government offered free land in these remote areas to those that would homestead it. Coco staked his claim where two dirt roads converged, and nothing else much else happens. (The junction to Hwy 1 lies about fifteen miles west.) For years he has been welcoming tourist and guests to his self-decorated corner, offering "tourista information", selling a Cokes or beer, and offering space to camp. 

As soon as I cut the engine in his dirt lot, I heard a, "Hey, Amigo!", like an old friend would call out. "Hey Coco, mind if I come in?" "Si, come on in amigo." He was working on the rear brakes of a Jeep Eagle that someone had given him. As hard as it must be to live out in this area, I can't even remotely imagine how difficult it must be as a double amputee - both legs are gone below the knee. I believe he lost his first leg as a result of an accident, and just recently the second due to poor circulation. With all that, I promise that you will never meet someone with a better attitude or disposition than Coco! It's impossible not to fall in love with the guy within five minutes of being in his presence. 

I had the privilege of signing his famous guest book (he gets visitors almost daily), and was given a couple of his decals for my bike. I gave him a couple of our Write Around the World stickers for the book as well. 

Coco is one in a million, and there will never be another like him. Same goes for this region of Baja. The paved road from Puertecitos should reach Gonzaga Bay within two years, and Coco's soon after. It will probably make Coco, and a lot others, very wealthy, but will forever change this part of Baja. 

Road to Gonzaga Bay

Saturday, the 28th, was the Baja that I have been waiting for, it was a near perfect day. 

I didn't get out of San Felipe until about 11:00, my usual early start time. The first 40-miles of riding would be on paved road, but south of Puertecitos, the pavement would end and the remaining 40-miles would be on dirt. 

The rocky road required constant attention in order to avoid the larger and/or sharper "protrusions". Many people have blown out their rear suspension on this road and I didn't want to be another. There were numerous detours due to all the new road construction (more on that later). The route hugged the coast and was absolutely beautiful! The weather was perfect. The beaches were dotted with palapas enticing one to stop and pitch the tent under the palm frond huts and stay for a week. This day was the perfect cure for whatever funk I was in the last two days. 

During the course of the ride, I ran into several groups of riders coming from the road ahead, and was able to get a sense of what was coming up. I was comforted knowing that others were on the road with me. 

I had received two different recommendations to stay at Alfonsina's in Gonzaga Bay, and that was the day's destination. It was accessed by this road, local dirt airstrip, or by boat. The turnoff was easily located and I rolled in about 4:30. I was exhausted! I was welcomed with a, "Corona or Pacifico?" Easy enough question. I agreed on the $50 a night price, and parked the bike by the hotel entrance, and sat on the beach with my beer. 

I fell in love with the place right away. Unpretentious and basic, it sat 20-yards from the water's edge and offered picturesque views of the entire bay. The perfect reward after a hard day of "work".

The next morning after breakfast, I set out for long walk to the other end of the bay. I felt silly asking, but thought I should try and lock my room's door before heading out. I saw the owner and told him I had never been given a key. "We do not have any keys. The only bad one here is me, and you are with me, amigo!" I didn't give it a second thought, this place was so remote, and the staff is like a big family, I felt like I was staying in someone's home - which I was. 

The walk in the sun and sand was a good stretch for the legs and to get my long dormant vitamin D production process back in gear. It was another great day, and I could feel myself getting more and more into the trip. After the two hour walk and brief siesta, Joaquin, the owner asked if I wanted to ride with him to deliver a cooler of beer to some workers at the opposite end of the bay. They had gotten their bulldozer stuck on the beach, and had been trying to pull it out all morning. We made the delivery, and afterwards he gave me a tour of the bay through the network of desert trails in his 4WD truck. We drove over a set of hills on a road that had just recently been built - before that it had be almost entirely untouched. It was one of the most serene and private spots I had ever seen, truly special. 

It was here that we decided to lock the keys in the truck. With no one to call, no cell reception, and miles to walk, there was only one option - I smashed what we guessed would be the least expensive window to replace. It was worth a few laughs, and the cooler wasn't entirely empty yet, so not a terrible ride back. 

Back at the hotel I had some of the freshest and best tasting ceviche I have ever had, and then called it quits. I was hoping for an early start in the morning. I was going to hopefully meet the famous Coco of Coco's Corner. 

Mike's to San Felipe

The day alone at Mike's should've been relaxing, but I couldn't sit still. I missed my friends and my girlfriend Erin. I played with the GPS functions, got out my Spanish phrase book and patched up the broken auxiliary light and tank saddlebag. The staff prepared a substantial and tasty dinner and breakfast included in the $60 per night fee. 

The following morning on I got back on the road. Felt good to be on the bike, my attitude was much better. I was fresh and handled the road much better. I had deflated both tires to 25 psi and turned off my ABS (two things I failed to do on the way in). It was a beautiful day. Again, I did not see a soul on this road, maybe a rabbit or two. I was standing on my pegs concentrating on the path ahead when I suddenly heard a loud exhaust right behind my left ear! When I sat back down in the saddle, I was face to face with a soldier sitting in the passenger seat of a truck loaded with other soldiers and their automatic weapons. Startled for sure. Where did they come from?  I gave them my "No hablo Espanol", and I was waved on. They later turned off another dirt road. 

I am getting use to the strong military presence here. They are all really nice young men in their 20's doing their mandatory service. No attitude at all. They have been considerate and return my wave. Of course, they are interested in the bike, and I have been waved through almost all checkpoints. Guess I am glad they are out there. 

I followed Hwy 3 east and took the Hwy 5 junction south. There was a bit of road construction, with dirt road detours paralleling the highway - no sand thank goodness.  

Stayed at the lovely El Capitan hotel a block from the beach in San Felipe for $30. It is suppose to be a hang out for more desert riders, but was virtually empty. No worries.  I guess I just missed the Baja 250 race that started and in ended here. Otherwise, nothing really here for me. 

Tonight I plan on making it to Gonzaga Bay (40 of the 80-miles will be on dirt) and maybe camp on the beach(?) Next night, hopefully Bay of Los Angeles. Then I will high-tail it to Loreto. 

Carlsbad, CA to Mike's Sky Ranch

On 11:30 AM on Wednesday, March 25th I crossed into Baja, Mexico at the Tecate border crossing. Honestly, emotionally I was a wreck - tighter than a drum. It felt like I was jumping off a cliff. I have been waiting for this moment for two years, and I wanted it so badly, but it felt like I was crossing "the point of no return". Anyway, a lot of mixed emotions. Not to mention, the words "bloodbath" and "Mexico"have been used in the same sentence too frequently as of late.

I digress - a year ago I started following the blog of Allan Karl (worldrider.com) when he was somewhere in Africa on this bike trip. His story is amazing! Like a kid contacting his favorite TV star, I emailed him. He answered. Fast forward, and the night before crossing the border, I stayed at his place in Carlsbad, CA. What a plethora of information! It was like talking to a PhD the day before I was to start kindergarten, on what school was like. We went shopping for the Canon SLR I was looking for, and other last minute necessities. He and Angie made us a great dinner, and the wine flowed. Didn't get to bed until about 1:00. The next morning All had offered to ride to the border with me - sort of like walking me to the bus stop on that first day of school.

Back at the border, I was waved through without stopping. I found the proper office to get my Tourista Card, went to pay for it at the bank two blocks down the street, and returned the receipt to "proper office". I would be able to get my temporary vehicle importation permit in LaPaz before catching the ferry to the mainland. It was 1:00 and I had a lot of driving to do before nightfall. Rule #1, NO night riding - anywhere! Not to mention the previously mentioned "bloodbath" thing was on my mind and I wanted to get away from the border as fast as I could. 

I hit Hwy 3 and headed to Ensenada, where I would head southeast to the turn-off to Mike's Sky Rancho. 

As a kid, I was a big fan of off-road racing, and knew all the names of all the top players of the time. Mike's Ranch is actually on the Baja 1000 course and a Mecca for racers and enthusiasts for almost three decades. The turn-off is in the middle of the peninsula and a 20-mile dirt road ride from the main road. 

Per road construction and getting lost in Ensenada, I didn't reach the turn-off until 6:00. Home free, or so I thought. (I realized then that I hadn't eaten a thing all day.) Anyway, tired and fatigued I was elated to get to Mike's and celebrate with all the other cyclists that were no doubt ending their day of riding and now enjoying a "cold one" by the pool. 

The road proved a bit difficult, with patches of thick soft sand. This is not good for an overloaded heavy bike - muy pesado! Not fun at all. About 16-miles in I dumped the bike in the sand, which was the last thing I needed. It was getting dark. I was sure "narcos" would be coming out of the bush at any second, like zombies after the sun goes down. However, now I could finally find out if I could pick up the bike by myself. Nope. I had to take off the two duffle bags before I could get it up. Soon after I finally came across a guy on a tricked out MX bike with an oversized Acerbis tank. He had just come from Mike's buying bottled water. "No one is there." What!? What do you mean no one is there? "Not a single guest is there, just staff." Completely deflated, I pulled into Mike's about 30-minutes later in the dark. I crawled off the bike and yelled out for someone. I was it, the only guest for two nights. They don't even turn on the generator during the week, so no electricity. Apparently, it's a weekend Mecca. 

Joshua Tree

Joshua Tree March 20-23rd.

Two hours out of L.A. via Hwy 10 and I was experiencing the kind of heat that I haven't felt in, what feels like a lifetime. I was having lunch in Palm Springs in temperatures that must have been in the 90's!

Mark and Christa have been great friends of mine since I moved to Seattle in '93. They settled in Joshua Tree four years ago after being "free" for eight years. They sold everything they had in Seattle and bought an RV - loaded up their animals and hit the road. I always respected their independence and lack of conformity. 

I really liked Joshua Tree. It is a beautiful place, but the people make it truly "unique". Its proximity to L.A., it's beauty, and mystic background seem to attract a lot of talented musicians and artists (one in the same, I guess).

Noted Activities: flea market, party at the Ingretron, a tour of Noah Purfoy's sculpture park, tour of artist Bobby Furst's studio, and hearing the Thrift Store Allstars. 

Shameless Plug: If you have been reading this blog, you have noticed an odd entry with an ESN# that gives my current location. This is the result of a device called SPOT. It is a GPS transponder of sorts. Everyday when I am finished riding I push the "OK" button on the battery powered unit and it relays my location and my pre-programmed emails to my selected email list. Anyway, I met a guy in Joshua Tree, still in a cast, that broke his leg while up in the mountains on his dirt bike. He was helicoptered  out two hours after pushing his 911 button. His $8 policy covered the $18,000 bill. It's comforting to know it does what it says. For more info, check out findmespot.com

California, part 2

I always love coming to Venice. It's probably why I decided to drive straight through from Los Gatos (on Hwy 1). (I did take a little scenic road short cut Santa Barbara that I would recommend, State Rd. 54 I think(?)) I rolled in about 8:30 completely wired!

Adam, my best mate and Director of Technology and Gadgetery for the trip resides in Venice, and he put me up as usual. He and his wife have been the best of friends, since..."forever". Adam and I "kept it local" biking and walking to the neighbor restaurants (and bars). Paddle tennis in the morning...and then it seemed to all fall apart after that, but no complaints. When my "little buddy" Ingrid (another Seattle transplant) and her significant other, Geoff, got involved it "fell apart" even faster. It was apparent that I would be leaving a few pounds heavier. Joking aside, it was great spending time with such close friends before heading out. So far, its been a great California vacation. The real trip starts when I cross the Baja border by myself. 

Shameless Plug:  J.R. at Angel City Cycles (BMW only garage) did the 12,000 service on the bike and mounted the Conti TKC 80's (knobby tires) that I had been lugging around with me since Seattle. J.R. was able to get me in the day after calling him, and had the bike ready in time - as promised. He made some helpful and welcomed suggestions. He was very thorough, and extremely passionate about his craft. The bike has run great since!