Baja Sur on the Big Bikes

Have you been to Baja California Sur? If not, you're soooooo missing out.

It. Is. Beautiful.

Our first night was spent in Guerrero Negro, a hive of whale watching activity in the high season, a quiet city the rest of the year. The next stop on the trip would be Laguna San Ignacio...or would it...?

We got to San Ignacio and filled up with gas as we entered town. The turn off for Laguna San Ignacio was almost right across the highway from the gas station, and we headed out. Almost immediately, we realized they had recently had some big-time weather. Resorts and hotels lined the road on both sides, and all of them were flooded or simply under mud. The road was mostly clear, with a few muddy and flooded sections to cross.

We motored on and found ourselves on a beautiful road, riding through the desert. About 35 kilometers in, a truck driving in the opposite direction flashed his lights, and slowed to a stop. I stopped and the man who was driving told me it was impossible to get to Laguna San Ignacio, as the road was out, and flooded to thigh-high levels.

I thanked him, and we kept motoring on. We just wanted to see what the landscape looked like, and we had some extra time to spend. About 10 kilometers later, a road construction truck stopped us and told us the same thing. I told him someone had told us, but we wanted to see what everything looked like. He said in four kilometers we could see what the area looked like, and in 10 kilometers, the road was done.

If those skies had looked at all threatening, I would have felt uneasy riding that stretch of road.

That wasn't quite what the first truck had said, so we kept on to see for ourselves. In about four kilometers, we got to a spot where the water came right up to the road on both sides. One side was a bay/lagoon which looked like it was pretty much always that way, while it was clear the other side was a lake because the water had gone over the road and made it that way.

It was quite a view, and a cool bit of road to ride. A few kilometers later, and we saw what the road crew member meant when he said the road ended. It suddenly turned to rough dirt, and 150 meters later, there was a giant rock pile blocking the end of the road, just in front of what had become a spillway.

So we've come, to the end of the road...

The road definitely ended, but we were glad we had ridden out to see it. We got the bikes turned around (me with a little pushing help from Josh) and headed back to town. After the first truck warned us, we had stopped to sit under shade and come up with a back-up plan. The plan was to ride back through town and keep going on the highway we had been on, crossing the state back to the gulf side. Laguna San Ignacio was not to be.

We got to town, and turned onto the highway, picking up speed, and heading onward.

Until we saw the police car's lights.

A police officer was slowing people and warning them that at the bottom of the hill, there was no road. Not quite like "no road" earlier, but the road looked like a river. We got off the bikes and walked down to the river's edge, and stood there watching a number of cars, trucks, vans, and semis going through.

When we got back to the bikes, the police officer was loading up a bicyclist and his bike into his truck, to take across. He told us that in an hour or so, someone would be along who would put our bikes in the back of his truck and take us across for 350 pesos a piece. That's just over $20, but that's not adventure, you know?

So, we got geared up, decided we'd start with the V-strom first, and got ready to take both bikes the rest of the way to the water's edge. The police officer walked up to me with a man who had just come from the other side and told me there were big rocks in the middle, and a motorcycle had fallen earlier in the day. He seemed genuinely concerned, but I told him we were going to try--this is adventure! He laughed and agreed.

We got down to the edge and I left Camille to walk on the down current side of the bike, as the cross current was fairly strong. Should the bike start to go that way, I wanted to be able to steady it long enough for Josh to either get out of trouble, or hit the kill switch--the bike going down was one thing, but it going down running would be bad. All electronics went into the safety of the Mosko Moto dry liners, and we headed out, Josh duck-walking the bike under power, and me walking with hands on the back end.

It was smooth for the first 20 or so feet, and Josh suddenly hit some of the boulders. The rear of the bike slid towards me, and I was suddenly in water over my knees while we shouted at each other. Once we got the bike stabilized, I quietly said to Josh that we didn't have to shout--we were both wearing our helmets with our Senas on. We could hear each other just fine, and I just needed him to communicate what was happening with the bike.

We re-grouped and got under way again, now with a good audience on each side of the river. The water got deeper, but Josh had good control. I kept hands on the back, and we made it across, Josh hopping up on his pegs and riding the last 20 feet out.

He rode the bike to a safe spot, we each had a long drink, and we shed our jackets to head back across. Josh asked me if I was going to leave my helmet on and I said oh hell yes I was. Leave it to me to be the person who fell while trying to do this, hit her head, and wound up with a concussion.

We got back to the other side, and made the decision that because it was so slippery and uneven, Josh would take my bike across. I can only get toes down on my bike on a good day--that crossing could go well or could be a disaster. I would definitely say yes to the offer of assistance. Josh got on the bike and asked for the key.

Uh...isn't it in the ignition...?

No, it wasn't. Oh, it was in my pants pocket where I always put it when I don't leave it on the bike, right?

No. It was across the river in the pocket of my jacket...that I had left on Josh's parked bike.

So, back across the river I went. I found my key, got a BIG drink of water, and walked back. Again.

When I got back, I got the GoPro out--I wanted to video this. I knew the camera would eventually end up under water from the bow wave, but it would still be pretty good.

The GoPro battery was dead. Because it's always dead. In case you're wondering, GoPro batteries are the shittiest. The worst. Absolute pieces of crap.

The first part was easy, but the middle would get thigh deep--just below my exhaust line--and be filled with rocks like you see on the left side of that picture.

So we headed across with Camille. It was super easy for Josh this time, since he sits on her flat-footed with knees bent. We got her across and parked, and set about pouring the river water out of our boots, wringing out socks, and drinking a ton more water. Did I mention the temperature was about 94 degrees? No? Well, it was. It was hard to tell how much of our wet feet was due to river water, and how much was due to sweat.

Ahhhh...the glamorous life of the world traveler.

It took three days for my boots to dry out, and they will forever smell as if something large crawled into them and died. Lovely.

Boots aimed into the wind to start the drying process.

The rest of the day's ride was uneventful. We found an RV park with an American couple who said to go to the one a mile back--it's much nicer. So we did. And it was. But, it was like an RV park ghost town. No one was there. We found a fisherman who said it was fine to camp, 160 pesos (about $10), and the caretaker would be around later in the afternoon. There were bathrooms and decent showers, though at this time of year, only cold water. No problem--did I mention it was in the 90s...?

Yes, that is a cowboy riding his horse on the beach. I love Mexico.

When the caretaker showed up, I asked him when people would return to the camp. He said end of October until April was when most of them were there. There were a number of Americans, and the rest were Canadians. As it turns out, Canadians like to winter in Baja California Sur. We paid him and he took off--we once again had the place to ourselves.

Our beach-side campsite, and my first (and last...gross) Tecate.

We chilled at our beach campsite, and woke the next morning to the sounds of the Mexican military marching band, coming from the base just down the coast. I think they were having practice, because it went on for about 2 hours. And they weren't good... It sounded like two hours of junior high marching band practice, and not the kind of junior high marching band that gets invited to the Rose Parade. But it was a good accompaniment to our morning of coffee, oatmeal, and breaking camp. We were sweating by the time we got going again, but that would change...

Hang in there, there's more to come.

 

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