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Old 11-20-2011, 11:16 AM   #2
flyingwombat OP
frozen dead guy
 
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Joined: May 2009
Location: Nederland, CO
Oddometer: 713
Deathgrip was sitting on the ground looking... well, not very good. Cooler King was standing next to her and he looked at me with a look that's hard to describe. It said so much. I think it was a combination of "we're in big trouble" and "the trip is over." I got off the bike and asked the question: “what happened?”

We had a big problem. I said to Cooler King, "we have to ride her out." Deathgrip said this was not an option because she got dizzy just standing up, never mind riding double on the back of a dirtbike. She suggested calling Medjet, ”they have doctors available." Oh yeah, that was a great idea. I took out the satphone and the comprehensive first aid kit. The satphone was in a big Pelican case with a laminated copy of the emergency contact numbers that we had accumulated. I took it out of the case, turned it on... no signal. Damn canyon. I quickly climbed up to the top of the canyon with the satphone where I had great signal strength and set about calling Medjet. I typed in the number, ring ring... "hello?"

"Hi, is this Medjet?"
"No, who is this?"
Shit.
"Sorry"
I hang up.

I tried again.
"Hello?"
"Who's calling? Don't call here no more!"

Damn. This lady on the other end of the phone had no idea that she was being called by someone on a satellite phone standing on top of a canyon literally in the middle of nowhere.

So I tried another number and failed again. Then I remembered that we had been very clever and added 1 to the last digit on all of the emergency numbers. We did this so that if the list was lost, nobody would be able to call and say we had been kidnapped and demand ransom. This happened to our Spanish teacher in Mexico City- some guy called her up and said her kids were kidnapped... but as it turned out they weren't, the guy just got her number from somewhere. Even though the chances of that happening were very remote, we didn't want anyone to get a call like that. Probably not the best idea for emergency numbers though- you don't want to have to think of stuff like that when you're in an emergency situation.

I soon figured it out and was connected to Medjet. They put a doctor on the phone who asked if we could get an ambulance. Ha ha. Not only would an ambulance (or helicopter for that matter) not make it to our location, there were none. He ended up telling me that we needed to splint it up and get to an emergency room. I nearly passed out because I had no idea how we were going to do that. I mean we had a splint, but riding out of there would be brutal with an injury like that. He did ask me some valuable questions, like whether there was a pulse in the wrist of the damaged arm and whether all fingers moved, and whether the fingers were turning white. Of course I couldn't answer those questions because I was on the top of the canyon. So I went back down and repeated what he said while I set about checking for a pulse, etc. Deathgrip had popped 4 Tylenol extra strength gelcaps by this time in a futile hope of helping with the pain.




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The definition of tough: smiling with a dislocated elbow.


There was no way in hell deathgrip was riding out of the canyon and she was damn persistent in wanting to pop the elbow back in place. So deathgrip came up with the idea to call a certain doctor who we know personally. What a great idea. I guess my brain had been working out how to ride out of there but deathgrip was very focused on her injury. Now the satphone was working great in the bottom of the canyon. We had to get the number from her brother, so she called him up. She explained what happened and I heard an "oh shit!" on the other end. We got the doc on the line and deathgrip gave details of the arm problem. We listened to the instructions for reducing (re-locating) a dislocated elbow. I asked if there was anything we could do to make this worse or life threatening... you know, like rip an artery or something... nope, probably not. Maybe pinch a nerve. So I said that we're going for it, and we'll call back after.

We took deathgrip's pressure suit and laid it on the ground like a bed. By the way, I have no idea how she was able to remove it- it was already off when I arrived on the scene. We put down the backpack as a pillow and gently laid her back on it. Cooler King said he was ready. We shoved the elastic tourniquet strap bundle that we had brought with us in her mouth so she had something to bite down on because we knew it was going to hurt like hell. Then Cooler King grabbed her upper arm with both hands and I grabbed her forearm, near her wrist with both hands. We both pulled fairly hard but steady with the arm extended straight out. Sure enough, I saw the weird lump at the elbow disappear at the same instant I felt it pop back into place. That pretty much blew my mind. I hadn't been looking at deathgrip's face but I glanced and it looked like she was in lots of pain. We had been told that it would feel much better once it was back in the socket but since it wasn't feeling better we thought it might not be back in place properly. We gave it one more good steady pull... nothing changed, so we figured it was all set. I called back and said it looked like the elbow was back in place and we would be off to get some x-rays.

After a bit the elbow was feeling much better and deathgrip was on her feet. Suddenly things didn't seem so bad at all. I had been thinking of ditching deathgrip's bike but Cooler King came up with a plan to shuffle all 3 bikes out and I thought that was a good idea since the situation wasn't so bad anymore. Abandoning a bike isn't just a monetary loss, there's stuff on there that we need to survive out there, and ditching it would take a while because we would have to sort through all that stuff to get what we needed and re-pack everything, assuming it will all fit on the other bikes. We decided to continue through the wash because that was our original plan (we had the fuel to do it) and also the fastest way to get to Mex 1. Since we were in some muddy stuff at that moment, the plan was to send deathgrip off on foot while Cooler King and I rode 2 bikes up 5km or so, then we could come back 2-up on one bike to get the other bike... and repeat. We offloaded some stuff from my XRL onto deathgrip's bike but didn't take the time to secure it very well. Cooler King and I set off with deathgrip clomping along in her Sidi Crossfire boots behind us.


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It was hard and tiring riding 2-up through that deep sand at first. We did this shuffle for about 15km... then decided to air the tires down a lot. After I made my tires just about flat it was easy riding double. Really easy. We stuffed all the gear back onto the XRL. I told Cooler King I was going to pick up deathgrip on the next relay leg, he said something like "yeah, just don't crash."




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When we picked up the other bike, deathgrip was there walking through the shade off the trail. I called her over and got her set up on the bike. This is where the electric start really shined because I could start the bike with both of us seated on it. Now we could make really long relay jumps. CK set off first on the 230 and deathgrip and I shortly afterwards on the XRL. The gear hanging off the back of the 230 took a beating. We caught up to CK who was stopped in the middle of the trail with my blue sleeping bag wrapped around the rear tire and melting on the exhaust. It was all messed up, as was deathgrip's pressure suit and the compression sacks. We cleaned up the mess, ditched the mangled compression sacks, ditched my stickers (except for the Coco's Corner stickers- stickers are a form of currency in Baja), and got ready to go again. I started to take off and then decided I wanted my gloves- I had become separated from them somehow. Not finding my gloves on the bike, I walked back to check the compression sack that we ditched. Not in there... but what was that lump? I pulled a wad of pesos out of the compression sack. Wow, almost lost a bunch of money. See, you have to be really careful when you decide to ditch something. We were trying to move too fast.

We rode up and out of the canyon bottom, up and down some hills while the sun grew closer and closer to the horizon. We were riding up a steep hill with a rut to one side... I was going slow but I figured I could make it around the rut. Nope, I slid into the rut and BAM we hit the abrupt end of the rut and stopped, upright. My un-gloved hand slammed into the hand guards. Ouch. The front wheel had to make it over a step made out of very hard dirt that was over a foot tall. Deathgrip started getting off and I tell her to stay put. Cooler King came up behind and grabbed the rear of the bike and started pushing... we got the front wheel over... the rear wheel was spinning, clawing violently at the rocks and dirt. Cooler King was probably getting covered in dirt as he helped lift the rear up. We broke free, the bike looked fine, no knobs or chunks missing from the rear tire. Cooler King dusted himself off and we kept going. I can't say enough good things about Michelin Desert tires. They were aired down to 5psi on a heavy bike with 2 people on it, and took the occasional rock hit, etc. with no complaint. I was happy that we had good equipment, and good company. CK is always there pushing or helping pick up my bike before I even know it.

We were traveling now on flat sandy ground. I stopped when we were 5km from the highway so we could get the XRR and prepare for the last leg of the shuffle. The sun was setting so we had a little pow-wow and decided to camp at this spot so that we could be on the highway first thing in the morning. The idea of finding help and gasolina on a dark highway didn't sound so appealing. Deathgrip scouted a bike parking spot and a place for the tents while CK and I went back for the XRR. It was a long ways back, but we got there and back pretty quickly. I didn't want to leave deathgrip for too long since there were probably mountain lions and she only had one good arm to fight them off. We got back to the camp spot and deathgrip pointed where to park, a mini-wash. I pulled in there but CK decided it would be easier to ride around through the cacti. He pulled in behind me with a big clump of jumping cactus stuck in his front tire. I thought for sure that would be a flat, but we pulled it out and it looked fine.


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There were spiny desert plants and boojum trees as far as the eye could see, but deathgrip had picked out a nice bare spot for setting up the tents. We finished setting everything up and chilled out with clif bars and water. We had to tap into my 1 liter reserve water bottle. The moon came up over the mountains like Mouse McCoy riding a 650R with a huge race light, shattering the silence and tearing ass through the pitch black night on a flat tire while being in 3rd place overall. The moon was bright enough to eliminate the need for flashlights. There was no wind and it wasn't very cold out. We could see distant headlights on Mex 1 but couldn't hear anything. You have not experienced quiet until you have experienced camping in the desert at night, it's truly wonderful.

We had a lovely sleep that night- I woke up early, put on my jacket, and took some pictures before the others got up. How many different shades of green are there anyway? It was cloudy, which was good- I thought that if it could stay like that for a while then we wouldn't need much water. We didn't have too much water left, but not to worry because we would be on the highway in no time. Gasolina on the other hand was questionable at that point. The XRL had burned up a bit riding the wash 3 times, 2/3rds of the time with 2 people on it, but no bike was on reserve yet, the 1 gallon rotopax was full, and CK had a couple liters stashed away. We figured we could make our original destination, Bahia de los Angeles, and hopefully they would have a decent medical facility there and some gasolina.




















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A breakfast of clif bars got us going, and we were soon packed, loaded, and ready to rip. I aired up my front tire because it looked like the ground would be hard ahead and I wanted to know if it was still able to hold air. It was able to hold air, but I was wrong about the hard terrain... soft soft sand and I could not steer. So I let all that air back out and we were cruising again. This section of trail was the most fun trail I've ever ridden- lucky me, I got to ride it 3 times. We went around a bend and there were cows. I slowed to a crawl and passed the cows. A lone rancher was there, so we waved, and he waved back. We put deathgrip and the 230 on the other side of his gate, close to the highway, then rode double back to the batmobile. After we got the batmobile, we had a really fun ride back to the highway on the narrow trail of soft flowing sand that spared us from the sharp, pointy, and alien landscape.

We used the Cyclepump to air up all 6 tires from 5psi to 25+psi with my engine off to save fuel. The Shorai LiFePO4 battery and Cyclepump delivered air to our tires like the UPS guy at the end of the shift on a Friday night. Faster than average. Deathgrip felt like she would be able to ride on the highway and she did. I went into super fuel conservo mode, tucking way down and going just fast enough for 5th gear. There were a couple of cars on the highway, no big deal. We eventually got to the turn off for Bay of LA and there was an abandoned gas station there. As we made the turn, I looked and looked and then saw it- a sign that said “gasolina” next to a trailer full of barrels in that gas station parking lot!! WOOHOO! We headed over there- nobody was in sight. I rocked the barrels a little to make sure there was gasolina inside them- there was. It only took a minute for the enterprising fellow who ran the operation to come out from his house across the road. He filled us all up and then we got to chatting about bikes. Between his limited English and our limited Spanish, we were communicating ok. He said he had new moto tires if we needed them, which we didn't. He wanted to know how big our engines were and how fast the bikes went. I pointed to the 230 and said "muy pequeño, jaja!" He wanted to sit on my bike so I told him to be my guest. He said it was heavy, much heavier than his XR400. Yup, sure is a pig, but a good pig and I love it. It just hauled us plus gear out of a wash, no sweat. After he got off and I paid him, he made the universal gesture for wheelies. CK took off first and ripped a nice fast wheelie, front wheel crossed up nicely. I went next and pulled a super high and smooth wheelie, it was awesome. Deathgrip went next, and she ripped the best wheelie of all, hooking all 6 gears before having to put the front wheel down. Haha, ok, you got me there- her elbow hurt too much to hook all 6 gears. I think the barrel gas dude was happy, and we were happy to have full tanks. Just a little Baja magic.








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It would be worth the slab ride to the Bay of LA just for the view of the water and twisties as you descend down, down, down.








We pulled into the Bay of LA like rockstars, right up to the first Pemex pump we saw. The attendant was obviously pleased to have some bikes to check out. I don't know why, but Baja makes you feel like a rockstar when you roll into town on a dirtbike. It's not like being in the US where you might get a dirty look from some yuppie- they really like dirtbikes and dirtbike riders down there.

After filling up, we cruised the town to check out where to get food and stuff. The town wasn't nearly as big or as busy as we thought it would be. A lady was waving us into her hotel as we passed by, and after finding not too much else, we went back there. It turned out to be Victoria at Costa del Sol, and within minutes we had a great lunch in front of us. Guess what? Tacos pescados for me. What kind of homemade salsa is that? Big Kahuna Salsa? MMMM that IS a good salsa! Deathgrip survived the ride and was popping Tylenol like a junky. We got a room at the hotel. While I was doing something, Scooby took a piss on my front tire. Goddammit! Scooby was a Great Dane (I think) with really big, well, really big balls. Sorry, but if you want the full story, Scooby's balls were part of it. Unfortunately you couldn't miss seeing them and once they had been seen, they could not be unseen. BIG! SCOOBY! BALLS! Just be grateful I don't have a picture.

Some old timer gringo came by and said he just got back to his place down here and his stuff had been stolen- including his outboard motor so he couldn't go fishing. He said he really likes it here but he's had enough with the theft and he was going to sell the place. I think he said it was the 7th time in some large number of years his place had been sacked. He has another place in Ensenada that was in a gated community where he never had anything stolen. So we dumped water on the front tire of my bike to dilute the Scooby piss and moved all the bikes into the hotel room.




CK and I walked down the street to get some supplies. On the way we found the police station, the library, and the medical clinic. We went into the clinic and talked to a guy who was there. I asked if there was any doctor here because we had someone who was hurt. He said "I am a doctor." This was great- so after obtaining water and snacks, I brought deathgrip to the clinic. The doctor, Luciano, was very nice and had deathgrip come right in and he began checking out her arm immediately. No paperwork, no BS- you're hurt, let me have a look. He said that he thought it looked pretty good but there might be a tiny fracture, and he had no x-ray machine. He got some stuff and started wetting it down in the sink. Deathgrip realized it was material for a cast, to her great displeasure. I said it was just temporary until we got some x-rays. It turned out to be just a splint to support the arm with a sling, not so bad. The doc finished up wrapping the arm. I asked how much it cost. “Whatever you want” he said. I held out a couple of 500 peso notes, he somewhat reluctantly took one of them and said thanks. He said it was a donation, anyway I was happy that he took something and it was still an extremely cheap doctors visit.


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We walked back to the hotel and CK said "well that looks kinda serious." I called Medjet on the satphone to see if they would transport deathgrip back, but it sounded like a no-go since their rule is that you have to be hospitalized. Still, they said they would talk to the treating doctor and then make the determination. I told them we could probably make that happen in the morning. Then we had some supper and some Pacificos; again, everything was just delicious. Scooby would start barking at something outside and Victoria would yell "Scooby!" but you know, in a Mexican accent "Escooby!" and he'd simmer down.

We worked out some plans for getting to the ER in San Diego. Dangerous plans. CK had this awesome idea of going to the welders down the street and fabricating a way to attach the front forks of the 230 to the rear axle of the 650R, and then deathgrip and I would ride 2-up on the XRL.

In the morning deathgrip and I went to the clinic to see Luciano again. He replaced her splint with a better one because it had been bothering her and we asked if he would mind talking to Medjet. He said no problema, but there is no phone at the clinic so we had to use the police station's phone. I went outside and called Medjet on the satphone and gave them the number to the police station. Luciano and I went into the police station to wait for their call. The police were really nice and got up out of their chairs so we could sit. They carry assault rifles. Since we were now behind the counter, there was a computer there and on screen was a game: "plantas vs. zombies." I pointed this out to Luciano, and he told me "the police don't have much to do here, we have small problems, but they have to carry these guns." We waited for a while... I studied the wires running across the ceiling. Medjet called and Luciano started talking to them- they got a Spanish interpreter on the line so he was able to speak in his native tongue, which was pretty cool. While this was going on, I shit you not, the computer on the desk in front of us was tuned into an internet radio station that was belting out Bon Jovi's "Bad Medicine."

"Your love is like baaaaad medicine
Bad medicine is what I need, whoa ho ho
Shake it up, just like baaaad medicine
There ain't no doctor that can cure my disease

Baaaaad, baaaad medicine..."




It wasn't sounding good for the evac. Luciano got off the phone, I thanked him and the police, and we headed outside. Luciano said that they have an ambulance but they don't have anyone to drive it. Deathgrip and I headed over to the internet cafe where we mapped out some hospitals and a hotel in San Diego. Their internet connection at the cafe was through satellite and it was exceptionally slow, so we emailed deathgrip's brother for some hospital logistical assistance. There were a couple of older gringos in there on ETrade or something. We went back to the hotel and asked for some breakfast... BAM! There's breakfast, hot and tasty. I called Medjet and they said they would call back and let me know in half hour or so. We were sitting around waiting and the police rolled up and said I had a call. We're rockstars I tell you, rockstars. I called Medjet back and they said deathgrip did not qualify for transport but they would take her bike. I thanked them because that helped us out a lot and we knew exactly what to do next.

We dumped out all our supplies, spare parts, everything, on the beds in the hotel room and sorted through it. Anything we didn't need went into the saddle bags on the 230. Anything that didn't fit in there and was cheap was left on the table in the hotel room, and the rest packed into my Wolfman soft panniers. This took a while.

Then deathgrip and I walked to the police station again and asked if they knew of a place where we could store a dirtbike. They recommended that we ask Victoria because "she's a good person." We went to the internet cafe again where deathgrip's brother had emailed back with some hospital info, and then we stopped at the market across the street for water and snacks. We bought Chips Ahoy because we didn't want any surprises on the road tomorrow. I pointed out the many bottles of Pedialyte in the refrigerated section. I just love going into grocery stores in other countries... yeah you can go to the standard tourist attractions, boring statues and monuments, whatever. If you want to get a sense of a country, go into a market. I recommend this especially if you're from the USA where food is wrapped in a plastic bag, then wrapped in another plastic bag, then put into a big cardboard box with obnoxious marketing crap all over it, then you take the food out and it doesn't look anything remotely like what's on the outside of the box. Not so much in Mexico- this market had lots of bagged dried peppers, dried beans, rice, etc., all packed in clear bags and on display in bins. I like Mexico, you're not paying for a bunch of BS. There was plenty more fun stuff but we didn't have much time to check it all out.




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We brought the supplies back to the hotel and asked Victoria if we could leave the bike there at Costa del Sol for a couple of weeks. She said it was no problema, just put it in one of the unfinished hotel rooms. We wheeled it over and put it in there, making sure we put some cardboard under the kickstand so as not to scratch her tile floors. We ate a really great supper, but without Pacificos because we had to leave at dawn and it was going to be a long ride. Scooby was up to his usual antics though.

The morning came and we were kickstands-up just before sunrise. It was cold out but we all had jackets. I had no buddy pegs, so deathgrip put her toes on my pegs and I put my feet on top of hers. This was ok since she had the hard toes on her boots, it just meant that I had to shift and brake with my heels. We screamed out of the Bay of LA and began climbing back up to the desert. The air temperature fluctuated greatly as we went through little bowls where the cold air had collected. We got to Mex 1 but our barrel gas buddy wasn't there so we kept going. We had plenty of gasolina anyway. There were few cars on the road and I was running wide open... at 65mph. No pinging though, because the XRL has a compression ratio of 8.3:1. CK said that the XRR was pinging- it’s a high performance machine, gotta put in premium. The big advantage that we had was being able to pass traffic on the dirt at the road construction sites because we had the suspension and tires for it, plus we could squeeze through things and lane split, so that's exactly what we did, we passed many slow moving vehicles in construction zones. It was Saturday but there was some road work going on. We pretty much obeyed the speed limits in the towns but otherwise we were making time.







When I needed more control, I would nudge deathgrip's feet and she would take them off the pegs- they were ok hanging in the air because the side panniers were good leg rests. Then when her legs got tired from that she would tap me and put her feet back on the pegs. She had it worse because the back of the seat doesn't have much padding and she couldn't stand up from time to time to stretch. Although my right wrist was mighty sore from holding that throttle wide open the whole way.

Cruising through Cataviña, I almost rode past the barrel gas. The dude filled us up while we stretched, and then we flew out of there. It was nice and warm by this time. 74 miles later we were in El Rosario and headed north along the coast. It seemed like there were Pemex stations every 10 feet. We came to a military checkpoint that was backed up with cars and trucks, but when the guys saw us, they waved us up the side, asked us where we were going and then we were out of there. Eventually we could see the Pacific and the waves rolling in to the rocky shore. We cruised through many small towns, some with stoplights. It started to get very agricultural, many greenhouses in San Quintin. We saw apple growers, berry growers, just about everything. At some point we rode past prickly pear cactus farms. There were smoky smells of burning stuff- some of the smells were burning wood, some of the smells were burning chairs. I know this because I saw an easy chair in a field fully engulfed in flame.




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Somewhere south of Ensenada, we stopped at a nice quiet Pemex and filled up with Premium. The next thing I knew, my bike was doing 80mph and I no longer needed to keep it pinned. Man that barrel gas sucks. We hit Ensenada, a real city. We stopped once to figure out where we were going, and again to top off with fuel just before we hit the quota, or toll road. That fuel stop was going to be the last stop until we crossed the border.

At the first toll, there was another checkpoint- a guy was standing there in the road, and I felt like I was in a rocket on a launchpad, or he was the guy with the green flag at a race and I was on the starting line. I didn't turn off the engine- he yells "Tijuana?" We yell "San Diego!"

"Diego?"
"Si!"
"Any guns? Any drugs?"
"Nada, nada!"
"Nada?"
"Nada!"

The flag dropped and we were gone.

The toll road was great- big and fast with not much traffic, and great views of the Pacific at the bottom of the cliffs. Eventually we needed to stop for a quick piss break.







We made it to Tijuana no problema, but getting through Tijuana was another story. We missed an exit for US interstate 5 and took the next exit that put us through a meat grinder roundabout. We pulled off to the side to figure out where to go and a guy on a bike told us and tried to sell us on some nutritional website he was working on. Back into the roundabout we went, there were cars coming in and out from every angle but it was slow. CK was looking to figure out where to get out and almost bumped in to the full size Chevy Blazer in front of him. We snaked through the cars and got back to the US 5 turn. We thought finding the border crossing would be easy. Just follow the signs. We could see the line for the border and we followed it for a bit, but it was on the other side of a barrier. Suddenly we went down and crossed under it and then we were going away from it again. We stopped at an intersection and all those cars that had been with us were gone. A random guy ran out into the middle of the road right in front of us, pointed and yelled "Diego!!" We went the way he pointed. We were very close, and only had to figure out which line to get in. CK wanted to get an exit stamp on his passport so we weren't sure if we could take the Sentri lane.

We tried to make a left into the really long line of cars, but after we were committed to the left turn we discovered the road had been blocked off with yellow caution tape. There was a motorcycle cop on the other side of the road and he waved us over. We thought – uhoh. He pointed to CK's GoPro camera and then pointed to his. He was smiling. We chatted a bit and found out that he was a Baja trophy truck driver. He said he raced through Calamajue wash... ah, Calamajue wash, we know that place. He told us to go right up the Sentri lane and cut over through the hole in the barriers... Deathgrip asked him to repeat the directions; instead he said "follow me." He flipped on his lights and took off. We followed close behind him, totally cracking up. We ended our trip with a police escort! He turned off and pointed at the hole in the barriers and we took it. CK asked the car we were about to cut off because there were hundreds of cars lined up waiting to cross- and we were allowed in with only 4 or so cars in front of us. Nice.





Cooler King said he would go to Calexico to get the Jeep and meet us at the hotel after we finished up at the Emergency Room. I scribbled his cell phone number on my hand since I didn't have my cell phone with me. The US border guard didn't give us the full probe, though he took a strong dislike to CK. We were across the border pretty quickly and rolling on those vast concrete California freeways. We got to I8 and CK split off east. I pulled into Sharp Memorial Hospital, got a dirty look from the security guard who had no intention of helping out with anything, found a spot in the garage, and we went inside. The waiting room had only a couple people in it and deathgrip got into triage fairly quickly, but we had a long wait after the triage. I went out for the satphone, to the roof of the parking garage next to the helipad, and left a message with CK. I went back inside and deathgrip had been seen by a doctor. Eventually a mobile x-ray machine was rolled in and pictures were taken. They said it looked great and we needed to follow up in a week with an Orthopedic specialist. They also supplied a nice new splint, a good sling, and the x-rays on a CD. This was excellent.





It was dark and we rode over to the hotel which was only a couple of miles, and I got some food at the burger joint next door- maximum calories! It had been a long day and that double bacon cheeseburger and chocolate shake were sooo good. Within an hour or so, CK came rolling in with the Jeep and trailer. YESSSS!





At this point, Dr. Seuss might say "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." However, we were only one week into our 3 week vacation. We weren't going back to Mexico on this trip, but we sure as hell were not done riding either...

The CRF230F was delivered to Boulder on November 9th, a little over a month after we left for this trip, in exactly the same condition as we had left it at Costa del Sol. Not one single thing was missing and it didn’t cost us anything. Thank you Victoria, Costa del Sol, and Medjet!! Just a little Baja magic.
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Bad Medicine: Baja October 2011 - White Rim Sandwich (with Kokopelli bread) - Please help support COHVCO!

flyingwombat screwed with this post 11-20-2011 at 11:53 AM
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