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Old 05-08-2013, 01:15 AM   #31
MufflerBearings OP
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March 20, 2013



Slooooowwww to get moving this morning. I missed the sunrise thanks to that nasty mezcal shit last night. Scott, however, was completely unaffected as evidenced by this photo:




No matter – today will be epic because we won’t see pavement all day. As we rolled through town on the way out, we spotted a few obvious Spring Breakers who stick out like a sore thumb in their hipster uniforms of pastel shirts, aviator sunglasses and straw fedora hats. I hope they fire the travel agent that sent them to Bay of Los Angeles to party down on Spring Break – not exactly the most happening spot on the planet.




Surreal vistas of cacti stretching all the way down to the Sea of Cortez welcome us into the desert north of town. The road was free of sand, but that doesn’t mean that I got to ride fast (I’m on a KLR, remember?). Once again, I chased the dust clouds on the horizon that marked the location of Greg and Scott. As an added bonus, my steering head bearings shake loose (AGAIN) a few miles north of San Rafael.






We reached San Rafael where we met the sole resident, Pancho. Pancho tells us that he has inhabited this bit of seaside paradise for 28 years! Pancho is a friendly fellow who extends a hearty welcome to the many clown-suited gringo motorcyclists that drop by his place. I set my bike up under a shade tree and got to work on my rattling head bearings with the large crescent wrench I have in my cobbled-together tool kit. The wrench couldn’t quite get purchase on the nut between the bar risers. When Pancho saw me struggling with my sub-par tools, he disappeared into his home and returned with a five gallon bucket full of sockets. He found a 27mm socket and a ½” drive ratchet and my loose steering head bearing problem was solved. I didn’t expect to find an odd-sized socket in a one-man fishing village, but Pancho delivered!

Pancho:



Pancho's pooch, Paloma:



Pancho's front yard:




Pancho topped up our fuel tanks with gasoline dispensed from bleach bottles, corn oil bottles and water bottles while dolphins surfaced just offshore; another surreal Baja moment. I made a resolution to camp here next time, but today we are aiming for San Francisquito.







We arrived in San Francisquito in time for a fish taco dinner, which was skillfully prepared by the two gentlemen who run the camp. As far as I can see, San Francisquito consists of an airstrip, a handful of [currently vacant] gringo vacation homes, and the fishing camp. According to the two other guests at the camp, the place has been allowed to deteriorate over the past few years due to the drop in tourist visits. Even so, the camp is easy to immediately settle into and comfortable in a way that no shining upscale resort can be. There are primitive cabins available, but we chose to set up camp under a palapa because we are cheap bastards and because the view of from our tents reminded us of a Corona commercial.













The view from the shitters:



After dinner, Scott rented a fishing pole and threw his line in from the beach right in front of our camp. Within a few minutes, he caught two small sharks. And damn were they pissed! I don’t think I’ve encountered fish that were less enthused to be on the hook. But that was nothing compared to the snake we encountered on the beach! We watched in horror as the brown and yellow serpent of about two feet in length slithered from the sand right out onto the water, and disappeared out to sea. It was about that time that we decided that we were not swimming that day.










The cloudless sky, the brilliant blue water, the light breeze, the perfect air temperature, the deserted beach and the perfectly tattered palapas combined to bring to life the Baja I had imagined as I daydreamed about this trip in my cubicle during the past few months. Living in the strip mall hell that is Southern California, with its cold, dirty, crowded beaches, it’s hard to believe that such as place as San Francisquito really exists. This place makes riding even a KLR worth it.




Next up: San Ignacio
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Old 05-10-2013, 06:39 PM   #32
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San Francisquito looks and sounds like a beautiful place---the perfect spot for some R&R!
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Old 05-29-2013, 07:08 PM   #33
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March 21, 2013


When we awoke early this morning, we found Scott here:



We enjoyed coffee at the main house of San Francisquito before pointing it towards San Ignacio. Aside from some minor oil consumption on the part of the XR350, the bikes were holding up surprisingly well. The road south from San Francisquito towards Vizcaino was in far better condition than the road we arrived on the previous night. We quickly made our way past burros, horses, cattle and the occasional vulture perched atop a giant saguaro to the town of El Arco.







My handy Baja Almanac shows El Arco to be a decent-sized settlement, so I was certain we’d at least find some barrel gas there. Nope. It turns out El Arco is strictly a company town (and a really grim one at that) which exists to serve a mining operation. No gas, no food, no nothing. Given the lousy fuel range on the XR’s, this killed our plan to ride out and back to Mission Santa Gertrudis. Maybe next time. About the most interesting thing about El Arco is the little cemetery just outside the settlement (it’s a bad sign when the graveyard is cheerier than the town that provides the corpses).





The ride due south from El Arco to Mex 1 was sandy but extremely fast. I think another inmate referred to it as the ‘sand luge’ which is a perfect description. We finally reached Mex 1 around noon and found our first food of the day at a little tienda. We were starving and cleaned the place out of all their comically-named sugary snacks.






Vizcaino was also a welcome break from the highway. After the past couple days, Vizcaino felt like a huge place, complete with fuel, food, ATM and a very well-stocked auto parts house. It was an uneventful ride from Vizcaino to San Ignacio, broken up by encounters with terrifyingly fast semi trucks and a brief stop at the military checkpoint. Without exception, every car and truck was getting searched, but the motorbikes were waved right through. I guess the authorities figure that you can only smuggle so much contraband in saddlebags.

San Ignacio alone made the trip worthwhile. It’s pleasantly shocking to suddenly find yourself riding along a lush lagoon surrounded by thousands of date palms when just minutes before you were droning along through a scorched desert. The ride along the lagoon leads to the town site, which is anchored by the impressive mission and heavily-shaded town square. I don’t typically do a lot of sitting around, but I could sit under the massive trees of the San Ignacio zocolo all day and watch the world pass by. The town strikes a nice tourist/local balance that is missing in a place like San Felipe or Ensenada.





















We secured a room at the Hotel Posada, where for 350 pesos we got two beds, a cardboard door, and a shower that flooded the entire bathroom every time it was used. But it did have a delightfully old-timey looking cobblestone parking area. I really shouldn’t complain – I spent almost as much for a pair of leather work gloves at the local hardware after I lost one of my moto gloves while riding around the zocolo with them foolishly balanced on the tank.





Upon checking in, we were immediately besieged by the sticker beggars. They were stoked to get a few gems from our collection of random moto stickers.



We dropped our laundry off at a llavanderia – which was simply a lady in the neighborhood who owns a couple of washing machines – and walked into town for a dinner of date empanadas and Pacificos. San Ignacio is even more charming in the evening, when everyone comes out to enjoy the cool air and laid back atmosphere. I could spend a long time here.





Next up: Whale petting!
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Old 05-29-2013, 08:03 PM   #34
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I had almost forgotten that the 350 was consuming oil. I suppose most bikes of that era, still on the trail, do just that. It is also important to point out that aside from San Felipe, Vizcaino had the best parts store, with a variety of motorcycle specific oil to choose from. Anyone who has travelled through Mexico knows that sometimes you get lucky with parts, and sometimes you have to rely on good ol' duct tape. Vizcaino offers a pretty reliable assortment of food, fuel and gas for those passing through.

Be advised: On both passes through Vizcaino (going north and south) we saw federalies lying in wait. They looked somewhat irritated at us, as the XR's were on the frontage roads next to Mex 1, playing in the dirt at higher rates of speed than traffic on the pavement. But, we weren't breaking any (known) laws, so they just continued their restful days in the cruisers.
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Old 06-14-2013, 08:27 AM   #35
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March 22, 2013


Although we were told earlier in our trip by a self-proclaimed Baja guru that the whales moved on up the coast several weeks ago, we decided to ride out to Laguna San Ignacio anyway and see what we might find. Greg greets the new day, totally stoked to have shared a sagging double bed with his brother last night:



The road to the laguna is now mostly paved, but still a starkly beautiful ride along the tidal flats between the town of San Ignacio and the water. We stopped at one of the first fishing camps to ask where we might hire a panga for whale watching. Nice folks in the fishing camp, but I can’t say the same for their pit bull, who clamped onto my knee as I rode away from the camp. The damned dog traveled with me for a good fifty feet, teeth sunk into my leg armor and all four legs flailing in the air, before he finally let go and cartwheeled to a stop.



There are several choices for whale watching tours around the laguna; we chose Pachico’s Eco Tours at random, and we were glad we did. The owner graciously arranged for a private boat to take us out immediately for the same price as a group tour that wouldn’t have left for several hours. Pachico’s ‘eco resort’ itself was pretty interesting. It consisted of four or five small cabins right on the water and a dirt-floored thatched roof lodge/dining room, the walls of which were constructed of old car tires and adobe.









Captain Miguel Angel welcomed us aboard his panga and we motored out to the whale preserve. I have to say that I was not terribly excited about the prospect of whale watching since the whale watch trips I’ve taken in California are pretty unspectacular: merely an expensive ride on a big boat to maybe, if you’re lucky, see a whale or two 100 yards off the bow. Whale watching in Baja is a totally different deal. We could have hop-scotched across the laguna on the backs of the California Gray Whales that were hanging out there.














Momma whales repeatedly nudged their calves up to the panga where we were able to reach out and actually touch the whales, thanks to the lack of pesky California-style environmental laws prohibiting the harassment of marine life. We giggled like little girls when we got sprayed with whale snot as the massive creatures breached right beside the boat and exhaled. I’m not one to get all starry-eyed about communing with nature and such, but getting so close to these giants was pretty powerful. I highly recommend taking some time out from riding to pet the whales if you find yourself in the San Ignacio area.

The tide receded just a bit while we were out:



Back at the luxurious Hotel Posada, we got shaken down for an additional 100 pesos for a late checkout when we had earlier been told that there would be no charge. Oh well, happy to contribute to the local economy. I gave my one remaining moto glove to a local kid and told him that if he asked around town, he could probably find the mate and have a matching pair. He seemed excited at the prospect of owning a slightly-used pair of genuine Fox moto gloves.




We ate lunch at a taco stand that would send a health inspector into convulsions and swung onto Mex 1 southbound for Mulege. We learned along the way in Santa Rosalia that sourcing the most basic parts and supplies in Mexico can be a real challenge. The XR’s were both in need of an oil change, so we stopped at a parts house; they had one quart of motorcycle oil. The next one had two quarts. The third had one quart. So after visiting every parts house in town, we were able to assemble the required four quarts of oil.



Santa Rosalia is a seaside town that, on the surface, seems to have some unfulfilled potential. Our quick pass through on the highway gave us the impression that it was just a big grungy industrial town that could seriously benefit from some urban planning and zoning laws. For example, this oil change shop is located right on the beach:






I think if I spent some more time here, though, the place would grow on me. Santa Rosalia has an unusual history. Originally a large copper mining operation founded by a French company, mining was suspended in the 1950’s, but the remnants of major mining activities are still scattered all over town. The French-inspired architecture makes the downtown area feel more like New Orleans (on a very small scale) than a typical Baja town.

I'm pretty sure "sandwichito" is not a real Spanish word:





Whereas Santa Rosalia was a little rough around the edges, Mulege was immediately charming and inviting. We turned off the highway and passed under the huge arch onto the narrow one-way streets of the little village. This was one part of the trip that I had planned in advance; I’d read good things from the inmates here at advrider about the Las Casitas Motel, and we were not disappointed. Marco, the motel’s manager/bartender/waiter, was very accommodating and graciously granted us VIP moto parking in the lush courtyard. We ended our day over beers in the bar, gazing out through the overhanging bougainvillea at our bikes cozily tucked into the motel courtyard. I like this place.












Next up: Lazy days in Mulege.
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Old 06-14-2013, 11:35 AM   #36
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I'm in! Baja is on my Bucket List!
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Old 06-21-2013, 02:18 PM   #37
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Originally Posted by bigdon View Post
I'm in! Baja is on my Bucket List!
Glad to have you along, Bigdon! Do make it a point to get to Baja; if the three of us can do it, anyone can.

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Old 06-21-2013, 02:44 PM   #38
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March 23, 2013

We started the day right with coffee and killer date pastries at a little café in town:



After a leisurely breakfast, we performed much-needed oil changes and air filter service behind the motel. When we asked the motel manager where to take the used oil for recycling, he looked at us like we’d lost our minds, and was surprised we even bothered to catch the old oil. Reluctantly, and with a guilty conscience, I dropped the containers of used oil in a trash drum. A discarded gallon water bottle works just fine as an oil catch:



Besides bike maintenance, nothing much got accomplished today. We rode around and took in the Saturday scene in Mulege. There were two quinceaneras happening simultaneously; one at a church in town, and the other at the mission outside town. I’m well-acquainted with this custom since I live in an area with many Latin-American immigrants, but the residents of Mulege really make a production of it. Once the church service is concluded, the quinceanera girl is loaded into the back of a pickup truck along with her attendants and is then paraded around town in a noisy procession of honking cars and trucks full of hollering friends and family. It’s quite a spectacle, and I’m glad we were able to experience it. No photos, since I felt weird as an obvious outsider snapping pictures of a 15-year-old girl who I don’t know.

We mostly did a lot of this:



And wandered around town looking at random stuff:













Yep, more air-cooled VW's:









This Datsun was perched precariously on a steep slope, teetering above a busy sidewalk in town. One good rain, and some unlucky pedestrian will wearing an old pickup truck on his head:




The mission is located on a hill just outside town, next to a lush oasis along the river. It was here at the mission that I found Jesus:















Greg and I rode along the river out to the Sea of Cortez to check out the damage that still remains from the hurricane that took place several years ago. Pallets and other scrap wood lodged twelve feet up in the trees along the river showed just how high the water got during the storm surge. There was a ruined and abandoned waterfront area (formerly the malecon or some kind of resort?) along the river that has apparently not received any attempt at restoration. On the other side of the river, however, were many recently-constructed gringo vacation homes along the mangroves right at river level, waiting to be taken out during the next major storm.












Back at the motel, the manager told us of a party in the town square later that night, but we knew we wouldn’t be up late enough to attend. We might as well have gone to the party, though, because we were kept awake by booming tuba music until 3:30 AM anyway.

Next up: Loreto
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Old 06-21-2013, 05:25 PM   #39
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March 24 and 25, 2013


We discovered this morning that coffee shops in Mulege are closed on Sunday, because really, who drinks coffee on Sundays? So packaged donuts would have to do for breakfast this morning. We stopped briefly at Playa Santispac because I’d heard from a co-worker about what a beautiful uncrowded paradise it was; I don’t think he’s been here for a long time. It was a very scenic area, but it was also a mob scene. There are much better choices for beaches (Playa Coyote, Playa Burro) just a few kilometers south of Santispac.



And all along I thought Greg was fluent in Spanish:



We made short work of the highway ride to Loreto, which is larger than Mulege and a maybe bit more tourist-oriented. There are some seriously impressive gringo vacation homes along the coast just north of town – way more ostentatious than those in Mulege. We checked into Hotel Junipero in the middle of town, where 450 pesos got us a room with three beds complete with brothel-style red silk linens and an impressive view of the mission just across the street. Secure parking for the bikes was in the courtyard just below.















Another important announcement about a furniture store grand opening. Or a restaurant. Or someone running for office. Or something:




Pleasingly firm sleeping surfaces courtesy of poured concrete box springs:




Baja - the land of personal responsibility. Don’t trip walking down the stairs from the second story; you might arrive at ground level much quicker than anticipated:




Did a little beach riding:






Then watched the Palm Sunday procession to the mission from our hotel balcony:








If you ever find yourself in Loreto, you will be sorry if you fail to visit Pangalapa for their chocolate clams, which are locally-sourced clams stuffed with diced ham, peppers, and cheese, then wrapped in foil and grilled. Unreal goodness:










Morning the next day brought a spectacular sunrise. There were many locals out for some early morning exercise on the elevated walkway that runs along the new malecon.






We had placed a small deposit yesterday to reserve a boat for snorkeling today, but as we approached the marina, a boat captain approached us and undercut the snorkeling company’s price by more than half. We couldn’t turn that down, so we forfeit our deposit and climbed aboard the “Jandy 1” with Captain Jesus. A more appropriate name for Jesus’ vessel might be “Janky 1”; the tired old panga was quite literally coming apart at the seams. The floorboards heaved and buckled at the taped/painted/fiberglassed-together seams every time we hit the most minor wave. Nevertheless, we made it safely out to Isla Coronados in the Bahia de Loreto Marine Park where we used cobbled-together yard sale snorkel gear provided by Captain Jesus to look for fishies. We decided to pack it in and head to another island about the time an aggressive bull sea lion slid off his rock and torpedoed towards us. The second island featured pristine white sand beaches and no angry sea lions.








Pangalapa was closed in the evening, so we ate over-priced and under-spiced tacos at La Palapa down the street – don’t get the two confused if you’re looking for good food in Loreto.

Before I go, mandatory VW viewing:









Next up: Angry cartel types or just really unfriendly ranchers?
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Old 06-21-2013, 07:07 PM   #40
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March 26, 2013

Today’s plan was to ride from Loreto on the Sea of Cortez coast to San Juanico on the Pacific coast via the remote villages of San Jose Comondu and San Miguel Comondu. But things don’t always go according to plan.

We passed this interesting bit of engineering on the outskirts of Loreto. It looks like some kind of chute for loading gravel from the hills above into waiting trucks below. The hillside apparently needed reinforcement, but concrete and rebar is expensive. What do we have on hand that might be a good substitute? How about a Camaro, a Pinto, a Galaxie and a Mustang (among other Detroit classics)? It appears to have held up just fine:








We left Loreto and climbed up through a steep canyon on an incredibly serpentine paved road with many unmarked surprise washouts. Remember the personal responsibility thing? The road is paved all the way to the very scenic Mission San Javier.
















From Mission San Javier, we backtracked a few miles to the dirt turn-off to the Comondu villages. We verified with a rancher at the junction that we were on the right road, although he stated that he would avoid this route, since it was impassable in a car, and unknown on a motorbike. He looked worried for us. Maybe we should have paid more attention to his concern.

The road was really pretty mellow until we reached what I believe was Las Animas ranch. At this point, the road is flanked by a couple of ramshackle ranch buildings. As we approached the ranch, we were flagged down by two teenage boys who were dressed as if they were going out to hit the night clubs in Mazatlan; they looked curiously out of place so deep in the hills far from any urban area. The following conversation was conducted entirely in Spanish between Greg and the teenagers:

Kids: “What are you doing here?”

Greg: “Just passing through.”

Kids: “No you’re not. This is private property. You need to turn around and go back the way you came.”

When Greg relayed this information to me, I sized up the kids, didn’t see anything too alarming, called bullshit, and we continued along the road beyond the ranch. Just past the ranch, the road became very steep and littered with basketball sized rocks. This was not fun on the big bikes, and the road was only getting more difficult. The difficulty of the road combined with the weird exchange back at the ranch made Greg very uncomfortable. Greg told me that there was a look in the eyes of the kids that lead him to believe that there was something more to their warning than just kids wanting to mess with tourists. I trust Greg’s instincts in these matters, so now I was a bit worried myself, as it was becoming clear that we needed to turn around and ride back through the ranch.




We bounced and skidded back down the road, in full view of anyone watching from the ranch (perhaps through the scope of a high-powered rifle?). As we passed through the ranch, I see that a middle-aged parolee type has joined the teenagers and all three are angrily trying to wave us down. Nope, we’re in a hurry. We throttled it past the trio as I gave them my best clueless but friendly tourist wave. They did not appear to be happy with us. We did not stop to look back for many miles.




We passed by the mission again and traveled along a fast dirt road interspersed with washouts and water crossings to the paved Highway 53 and into La Purisima. La Purisima is situated in a beautiful palm-lined canyon and has an impressive-looking dormant volcano as a backdrop. The town was completely deserted on the day we passed through and had a vague “village of the damned” feel to it, but this could have just been my own paranoia with the ranch incident so fresh in my mind. We bought some barrel gas from a group of surly and untalkative fellows, checked out a loncheria that was just too grim even by our standards, and got the hell out of town.









Cool gravity-fed sink set in a palm stump:




After a rough day in the heat of the foothills, the cool coastal air of San Juanico/Scorpion Bay was very welcome. Except for the paved main street, all roads in San Juanico are dirt, and the town is populated by a mix of friendly and laid back locals and expat surfers. We had some outstanding shrimp tacos at La Cabana while we considered our options for lodging. We decided it was too cold to camp in our lightweight gear, so we settled in to Casitas de San Juanico for the night. This is another place I can highly recommend. It consists of four comfortable rooms attached to the owners’ home on a secured property in a residential neighborhood. It is far better than the only other lodging option in town, (Hotel 7 Puentas), which consists of a room over a liquor store and no parking for more money.











Next up: Riding on the moon.
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Old 06-23-2013, 05:04 PM   #41
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March 27, 2013


We started today’s ride with some trepidation. We planned to ride along the Pacific coast from San Juanico north to Laguna San Ignacio. I knew we could either take the ‘high’ road, which was slightly inland, or the ‘low’ road, which was closer to the coast. I’d read that the high road featured bike-swallowing silt and the low road offered bike-swallowing mud. The choice was clear – I’ll take mud over silt any day.

So after another visit to La Cabana for a scallop taco breakfast, we fueled up at San Juanico’s not-quite-official Pemex and hit the road for points north.



The road north from San Juanico was firm, wash-boarded and fast. Just before Ejido Cadeje, we passed through what appeared to be some kind of abandoned primitive military installation.












We crossed a wide but shallow river just past Ejido Cadeje and turned onto the first road to the west, signed for El Datil. After a few miles, the fun, sandy roller coaster two-track took us down off the small mesa and out onto the coastal salt flats. The road through this moonscape was very hard-packed and so smooth it shined; it looked like ice, but provided good traction for top-gear riding across the flats. Mirages made it appear that we were riding across the top of a massive body of water. The vast openness of the salt flats provided a tempting invitation to throttle it off the established road and carve big arcs, but the two-foot deep tire tracks of drivers that had made that mistake before us served as a warning to stay on the road. The high speeds and cool coastal air made for a nice change from yesterday’s heat in the inland foothills.








Rising out of the salt flats like a mirage itself is the tiny settlement of El Datil. Before we even reached the village, a mob of kids came sprinting out onto the flats to intercept us and demand STICKERS, MISTER!! STIIIIICKERSSSS!!! Kids (and some adults) all along the peninsula had shown enthusiasm for stickers, but the kids of El Datil were the most deadly serious sticker collectors we’d encountered yet. Greg handed out the last of our sticker stash while Scott assumed the role of Sticker Police, ensuring that everyone who wanted stickers got them: “Hey! That kid already got four!”




This El Datil local is justifiably proud of his shark(?) tooth necklace:




We left El Datil with an escort of chasing kids and barking dogs. The kids were disappointed with my failed attempt at a wheelie (how to you say overloaded piggy KLR in Spanish?), but I think Scott and Greg were able to hoist their wheels up for them.






The ride past the Laguna San Ignacio and through the town of San Ignacio was uneventful. We eventually found our way after a few wrong turns and dead-ends onto fingers of land that extended into the Estero. The only traffic we encountered was a few carloads of surfers heading south for a surf competition in San Juanico that weekend. At the military checkpoint outside San Ignacio, Greg made the mistake of revealing to the soldier that he spoke Spanish. He was rewarded for his fluency with a round of vigorous questioning: “Where are you going? Where are you coming from? Where were you before that? And before that? Where will you go after today? Are you on vacation? What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?”














We ended our day with lousy Chinese fast food in cold and windy Guerrero Negro. I’m convinced that Guerrero Negro is the Spanish word for hypothermia. Maybe it was just an especially cold day, but if there is an iceberg off the coast of Baja, you can find it near GN. We secured a clean and reasonably-priced room with VIP parking at the Cowboy Hotel, where we decided against a soak in the spa:






Next up: Winding down with San Felipe Semana Santa madness.

MufflerBearings screwed with this post 06-23-2013 at 08:42 PM
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Old 06-23-2013, 09:18 PM   #42
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Looks like a great ride.. I have much envy as I had some bad luck just before Gonzaga on my ride down there at New Years ending my trip prematurely. Looking forward to going back and finishing the trip, but its nice to vicariously see through your report.. Thanks!!
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Old 06-23-2013, 09:45 PM   #43
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Excellant reading here. Can't wait to get back down there.
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Old 06-23-2013, 09:59 PM   #44
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Originally Posted by MufflerBearings View Post
March 19, 2013

...
We were in luck; Coco was at his corner! I’d heard that he is often away for medical treatments these days, so we felt fortunate to find the man here today. Coco is a pretty amazing character: feisty and bubbling over with profanity, yet very warm and welcoming at the same time.
... I don’t speak much Spanish, but I did pick out lots of “puto” “pinche” and “chinga” from his opinion of me and my nifty Almanac.


...

Lucky for you I've been to Mexico plenty and often hear those words during my conversations with the locals. I'm pretty much an expert in the Mexican language at this point. Puto means five. Pinche also means five, and Chinga is a deep fried burrito. I don't know why, but it seems pretty much any place I stop they're always asking me if I want five deep fried burritos before I leave. I just smile and wave as I ride away. I hope that helps.
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Old 08-06-2013, 10:46 PM   #45
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Quote:
Originally Posted by acesandeights View Post
Lucky for you I've been to Mexico plenty and often hear those words during my conversations with the locals. I'm pretty much an expert in the Mexican language at this point. Puto means five. Pinche also means five, and Chinga is a deep fried burrito. I don't know why, but it seems pretty much any place I stop they're always asking me if I want five deep fried burritos before I leave. I just smile and wave as I ride away. I hope that helps.
This is valuable information. I will consult you before my next Mexico trip.
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