Brian and Mulley ride Baja

[Brian A]

Lunch.  I forgot to mention Lunch. We stopped at a restaurant off the side of the highway. I think we were in El Pescadero. I didn't carry my GPS with me so I have no tracks recorded to help fill in some of the blanks.

It was a fairly good sized town with lots of nicer homes and infrastructure. We had ridden over the mountain range and were on the west side, near the coast.

Anyway, about lunch.... It was a big open air place. A metal roof with steel beam supports, sort of like what you might see covering an outdoor basketball court. Kirk pointed out that all the ceiling fans, which hung down from the metal roof above, were stripped of all their blades with nothing but the motors left at the end of the pipe. Hurricane Odile had left one of her calling cards.

Lunch was good. A few of us tried Octopus Tacos. I pretty much liked them. The pieces of octopus tentacle were fairly small and the little suction cup things not very big. Kinda reminded me of squid though not quite as chewy.

Here is a GoPro grab of the lunch place.




We eat.






So now, back to then end of the day.....

With everyone cleaned up and ready to go, we all piled into the truck and headed off to eat. We wound up at a place...... I guess you could call it a restaurant. You could drive ride by it and never notice it. It sat back off the road. Very nondescript place. But turns out it was a very real restaurant.

The guy who lived there had in fact, opened a restaurant. His house and his restaurant were right there side-by-side. It was an Italian restaurant of all things and it was straight up legit. As I understood it from Jae, that single man, by himself, as in solo, prepared every bite we ate. She had called him earlier in the day to let him know we were coming and he had gone to work.

Salads and pasta and pizzas. Fit for a king. We all ate until we could eat no more. There was food left over.


Food. Lots of food. And lots of good times.







Mulley and Blas raise a glass to good food and a great day in Baja California Sur.





Back at the casa, I don't remember much of anything except going to bed. I was as full as a tick, fell asleep quick, and slept like a rock.

Day two was in the books. We had ridden some fun rocky trails and roads over the mountains and lots of long fast dirt and sand roads. Numero Tres had laid down on the job but we were SO very fortunate that it had chosen to do so not in the rough, rocky sections of the mountains, but instead on the relatively flat and much more easily managed hard packed roads near the west coast of the peninsula.

Our accommodations were way beyond expectation.

Dinner had been fantastic.

None of us knew it when we went to bed that night, but most of what I think we would all agree was the best riding was still ahead.

But that would come on days four and five.

Day Three was up next.....
Mulley and I would be up before the sun and on our way to the beach.

We would go fishing.
In a panga.
And we would catch some fish.

[Brian A]

Work trips are never as fun as motorcycle trips, but they are part of the job. The job that pays the bills and lets me go on trips like Baja. So, I go on work trips, and dream about the next motorcycle trip......

Home now and time for another update.

A sample of Day 2 riding.

[Brian A]

I would bet it is true. I would bet my memory is accurate. I would bet I remember it correctly.

But, truth be told, I might be wrong. Maybe another case of mis-remembering....

But for the sake of my personal satisfaction, we'll assume my memory is accurate and go with it.

I figure it must have been around 1972. Maybe as late as '74 or '75.  I was about 10-12 years old, best I can recall, so the dates fit my age recollection.

One of my favorite TV shows at the time was The American Sportsman. The episode I remember was hosted by Kurt Gowdy. Here's the part that I wonder if my memory is accurate, or if imagine a thing..........

I remember Kurt Gowdy and Dick Butkus Marlin fishing off the coast of Baja. It made a huge impression on me. It made me want to go fishing off the coast of Baja. Marlin fishing in particular. But just to be able to wet a hook off the coast of Baja..... Man, that's the stuff that (literal) dreams are made of.

Mulley and I contacted Kirk ahead of time and made arrangements for the two of us to go fishing. I was really looking forward to it.

It would turn out that we would not have the chance to fish for Marlin or Wahoo or Dolphin or Tuna. The water was a bit dingy and the guy who ran the show on our little Panga explained that we just didn't have the opportunity to do much in the way of fishing for those.

That was OK with me.

One thing I have learned in life, largely from my various motorcycle trips and adventures..... Avoid setting specific expectations. Specific expectations not met lead to disappointment.

Instead, I expect to go and roll with the flow. Sometimes the best times are the times that you didn't expect. The times you didn't have mapped out in detail ahead of time.

The times that life serves up for you, on a silver platter. You just gotta be there to dig in.

Day 3 (and 4 and 5) life dropped a load on my silver platter.

[Brian A]

The alarm on my phone, set the previous night, woke me on Day 3. Mulley and I rolled out of bed, got ourselves ready for the day, and then went downstairs for coffee and some breakfast.

It wasn't long before we were in the truck with Kirk taking us to the beach where we would hook up with the guys who would be taking us fishing. We arrived right about daybreak.



I had a boat at one time, which I kept at-the-ready on the Alabama coast. Many, many days I fished the Gulf of Mexico out of Mobile Bay or Orange Beach. I love being on the water, spending a day saltwater fishing. It is a most excellent way to invest a day. Given my experiences, I was used to launching from a marina then heading out for the open water of The Gulf via the pass at whichever marina I chose to start my day from.

Things are different in Baja.

No marina. No pass. Just some boats on the beach and the ocean right there in front of you.




The boats were Pangas. Pangas are really good boats. Not nice boats in the sense that they are well appointed. They are, from a practical standpoint, NOT appointed.

Pangas are simple, very sturdy, solidly constructed, very seaworthy boats. No false bottom (so you stand on the sloping inside of the hull). All were tiller steer with what looked to be 100-150 hp outboards.

A classical example of form following function. From what I saw, they are the Honda XR of the boat world. Simple. Reliable. Unpretentious. But always able to get the job done.

Mulley and I. And our panaga.



The boats are launched form the beach. The delivery from the sand far from the breaking waves down to the water is accomplished via the aid of an old Ford truck.



Keeping it simple...





The first boat out is manned by a Captain and his mate. No clients aboard. They have a long rope (100 yards or so) that is attached to the stern of their boat and the other end to the bow of the next boat. With attention to the wave patterns, when the time is right, they then provide aid to the next boat in line, helping to get it through and over the waves. After this is accomplished they untie from the boat being towed and the cycle repeats itself until all the boats going out that morning are off the beach.

The first boat out.







It really was a pretty efficient means of accomplishing the task and the process of getting off the beach and through the waves was really pretty anti-climactic.

The launch area. Timing mattered.



As noted earlier, there would be no big game fishing for us. Side note – we learned that the previous week a nice Marlin had been hooked about a mile off shore, fought for about 3 hours and when it was all over, the panaga was about 10 miles off shore.

We trolled not far off the beach and caught a bunch of Spanish Mackerel and a few Bonito. I think the locals called them "White Line Bonito".

Mulley, catching a fish.



A view - off the starboard bow.



The Captain and his mate seemed pleased about the Bonito. They were thrown on ice with the Spanish. I spoke quietly to Mulley..... "Mulley, I have caught a whole bunch of Bonito in my life. They are trash fish. We used them for bait. I have never eaten a Bonito. I'm not so sure about this..." But, not being ones to make a scene, we went with the flow and never said anything. We were in for a great surprise.

We saw whales. Gray Whales. Huge beasts. Apparently they can grow to fifty feet long and weigh up to 80,000 lbs. I don't know if any of those we saw were that big, but they were big. Really, really big. They migrate to the Baja area each winter to breed and birth.







some blow-back through the carburetor.




With a bunch of Spanish and few suspect Bonito on ice, we headed back to the beach. The process of "landing the boat" was literally just that. The Captain watched and timed the waves and then the mate, with the tiller in his hand, twisted the throttle at the appointed time and we made a mad dash for the beach. Nothing hair raising at all. Right when the boat made land, the throttle was chopped and we slid right up onto the sand. The old Ford truck was at the ready, a tow rope was connected and the boat was dragged back up the beach to its resting spot, where it would wait for the next day of fishing.

We gave a guy some $$ to clean our fish for us. We took what we needed and gave the rest away.

We had not been back on the beach for more than a few minutes when Kirk and the 4 others rolled up on their bikes. They had been out riding for a few hours while we fished. A phone call had let the others know when we expected to be back on the beach so they had ridden down to see us. Blas and Jae arrived in the Tundra and we all loaded up and headed back to the house.

Kirk arrived while the guy cleaned our fish.



A girl and her little brother on the beach while we got ready to head back to the house.





Apparently the Bonito we caught are not the same as the Bonito I caught in The Gulf of Mexico. Blas and Jae prepared a big dish of ceviche with the Spanish and it was great!



But the absolute best was the Bonito sashimi. It was incredible. The texture was like velvet. The flavor, perfect. We ate a lot of very fine food on the trip but I believe we all thought the sashimi was some of the best food to cross our lips. It was fantastic.



After our afternoon snack we all showered and got ready to head out for dinner. We all piled into the truck and rode into Todo Santos. We did a little souvenir shopping and had a fine dinner at a really nice French Restaurant. After dinner it was back to the house and in the bed.

Jason and Mulley.




Dan and Captain Kirk



The truck had two spindles welded to the rack, one on either side. They served to carry spare wheels. Will found them fascinating.



Sunset as we rolled into Todo Santos.




The quick account of Day 3 given here does a poor service when viewed in my own personal light of capturing the day. I had fished with my good friend Mulley in the Pacific off the coast of Baja, Mexico.  And we had seen quite a few giant Gray Whales. We had not caught Marlin but we had caught fish. And we ate those fish that same afternoon. And we did so with all our new friends, including Kirk and Jae and Blas.

It hadn't been an episode of American Sportsman.

It had been better.

[Fencejumper09]

Last update = Fantastic "thumbs up"

Growing up on the coast of South Carolina I miss being able to hop in a boat and catch dinner!

It looks like this trip was amazing!

[Brian A]

Last update = Fantastic "thumbs up"

Growing up on the coast of South Carolina I miss being able to hop in a boat and catch dinner!

It looks like this trip was amazing!

Thank you much for the comment. Sounds like you can certainly relate to the many great experiences of saltwater fishing.

It really is a big reward whenever someone reads a ride report and truly enjoys it, especially so whenever someone finds their own little Easter Egg somewhere along the way.

Sounds like the tale of our day fishing was a good Easter Egg for you. Glad to hear it. Very glad.

[Fencejumper09]

Very much enjoying this RR!

Definitely found my Easter egg! When you mentioned fishing in an earlier post my interest was piqued! I would never call myself a fisherman but growing up on the coast, fishing brings back a lot of memories!

[Brian A]

Days 1 through 3 were behind us. Two more days of riding.

Two more days of huge fun with Mulley and 4 (now) great riding buddies. Guys I had not known until just a few days ago but had come to really enjoy all their company.

Two more days with Kirk and Jae and Blas.

The first three days covered the rocks. (there would be more)
And the sand. (there would be more)
And the whales. (there would be more)

And the sashimi. (sadly, there would be no more)

Day four..... the day of the angry pinkie.

And the dead cow.

stay tuned.....

[Brian A]

I rolled out of bed to start Day 4, took a shower then headed down for coffee and some breakfast. Alabama is on the east side of the Central Time zone and Baja is on the far west side of the Mountain Time zone. This means the sun rises at a later clock time and sets at a later clock time than I am used to at home. I filled my coffee cup and walked outside to catch a bit of the sunrise.




I talked to Kirk for a minute to learn Numero Tres would remain on the trailer (as opposed to swapping tanks with one of the backup bikes) and I would switch to Number 700. Sounded good to me.

700 is a lot bigger than 3 so I figured 700 would be more, or better, or somehow deserving of a much bigger number. Also, the Remington 700 is a very fine rifle so I reasoned the #700 bike was in good company from that standpoint.

It wasn't long before everybody had finished breakfast and was geared up and ready to roll. I climbed aboard 700 and we all headed out.

The early part of the morning was spent on some pretty nice sand roads. We made good time and it was fun playing in the loose sand on top of hard pack.




And then it was back on the beach! Fun. Fun. Fun.  This was a fairly desolate area on the west coast of the Peninsula. We rode for several miles.







Jason is a Wheelie King.




We stopped for a break to watch the whales. There were several in the pod. One we saw was heavily covered with barnacles while another looked dark and smooth.





It was neat to see them swim along, every now-and-then one would spew spray out its vent hole. A few times one would breach, sticking its head way our of the water. I was never quick enough on the draw to get a picture.









Then more riding and having fun on the beach

I am not a Wheelie King. Enough to have fun, but no expert.




A few miles further we left the beach and hit a wide trail that weaved for a few miles through sand and scrub brush.

And then...... we rolled onto a huge dried up mud flat area. Pancake flat and it went for what I would guess to be 4 or 5 miles. The surface was hard and flat with a ¼ inch thick surface layer of broken, dried up crust. It was some of the most fun riding of the whole trip. I have never ridden any surface as expansive that allowed for limitless play. Big wide turns with just a bit "extra" throttle meant the rear tire would drift out just slightly as long as you wanted to maintain the big wide drifting turn. The 450 had all the power need to play around with breaking traction whenever you felt like it. It was very, very fun.

Bryan stood up and had some fun.






I noticed Kirk, who was in the lead a few hundred or so yards ahead, began to slow. We all slowed and rolled to a stop. We had come across a dead cow.



The immediate area gave just a hint of being a bit lower than the surrounding area and it was pretty easy to figure out what had happened. The cow had, at some point in time, ventured out to the area when it would have probably been wet, when all the other area was dry. Perhaps the cow was looking for a drink of water. The cow had gotten stuck in the mud and then died there. Must have been a really lousy way to go.
Its body had been long since picked clean by scavengers so that only the skeleton remained. The skull was intact with much of the leathery, dried up hide still attached. Kirk wanted it. So he took it.










Kirk told us this was the first time he had ever ventured out onto the dried up mud flats. He had always been concerned that an unseen mud area might grab his bike/him and not let go. It would not be as far fetched as it might sound. You would see an occasional area that gave just a hint that prior to drying out, it would have been mud when all the surrounding area would have been dried up.  Not a risk I'd want to take.

Back to riding..... More miles of riding in the flatter areas of the west side of the peninsula. Sand and dirt roads. All of it fun.

We found ourselves on a more established dirt road and rolled into a small town in an area that appeared to me to be in the middle of nothing.

We would stop for lunch under the big tree ahead on the right.






This is what a cow skull strapped to a backpack looks like.




Jae and Blas arrived soon after we stopped. They set up a portable table and we had a great lunch of made-on-the-spot sandwiches and chips.

The local store.




The local horses.



The local dog.



I am a huge dog lover. This little fella was dirty and had a gimp rear leg from and old injury. But, he seemed perfectly content to lie around in the dirt, taking it easy. We talked about how it might be a miserable existence but I wondered out loud that it being the only existence the dog ever knew, it might be normal and OK for him. He didn't know any better life existed.

He seemed content......




Two little boys walked by, one carrying a bag of melons. They hadn't gone far when they turned around and came back to offer us a melon from their plastic bag. It was accepted. Blas gave them a few pesos and they ran across the street to the store and came back with whatever treat had struck their fancy. They stayed there until we left.



this is one of my favorite pics from the trip. It needs no explanation as to why.



I offered the kids a ride on the back, just a putt down the dirt road and back, but neither accepted.

And now, on a serious note.... The break for lunch here left me with the single biggest regret of the entire trip.

An old man live in the house just on the other side of the fence. 
Spartan accommodations.
He stood at a distance, watching us.

Dan and I both had to pee so we both went to the truck and with the door opened to conceal us, we each to a leak. The old man saw us. We thought maybe we had offended him or angered him. Neither was intended but we thought maybe that had happened.

A few minutes later the old man spoke to Blas and offered his bathroom, in his house, to anyone who might need to take a leak. Everyone passed on the opportunity. Blas said "gracias" just the same. Dan and I still worried that we had offended him and this might be his way of saying "You don't have to piss in front of my house. You can come use the toilet if you want."

Our worries were misplaced.

And this is the part of the story that eats at me to this day...

Later that evening at dinner Blas told us a story we would have never known otherwise. After we all left, Blas gave the old man a beer. The poor skinny old man, with pants 2 sizes too big, held up with a belt cinching all the extra material around his waist.

Blas gave him a beer.

And Blas said it brought a tear to the old man's eye.

DAMN IT !!!    DAMN IT!!    DAMN IT!

When Mulley and I rode in Ecuador we carried a bag of candies and small toys and various treats and trinkets which we would give to kids all along the way. Each time was such a great experience.

Life had dealt me an opportunity to do something nice for that old man. Something small, but nice. He had offered us the use of his home and I had failed to accept the offer and do him a favor in return. I spent a lot of money to be on my trip, to be there in front of his house in the middle of poor, nowhere Mexico, and I had left without doing a single thing just to say "Hey fella, thanks for being a cool guy."

I know I was under no obligation. And I know whatever little thing I might have done would not have made any change to his circumstances the next day. But it would have for that day. That afternoon when a group of guys on fancy motorcycles showed up, delivered him an unexpected blessing, and left him with a smile on his face.

It eats at me. Bad.
I can't go back.
There is no re-do.
No do-over.

I wish, I really wish, I could tell that old man "Thanks."
And buy him a six pack of beer and a bag of chips. And a candy bar.

I wish I could tell him I was sorry.

[Brian A]

We finished lunch and helped Jae and Blas clean up and get the truck loaded. Then it was back on the bikes and off for more riding.




Three things serve to set the afternoon of Day 4 apart from the previous few days:

Cactus
Sand
The pinkie

I don't have much in the way of pics regarding the cactus so I'll just touch briefly on the subject. A lot of what we rode that afternoon had numerous small cactus plants that encroached out into the trail or road. We don't have much in the way of cactus in Alabama. Certainly not in the woods of central and north Alabama.  When you are used to clipping the apex of a turn in the woods in Alabama you are generally met with not much more than a few limbs or the occasional vine. That wasn't the case in Baja.

Several of us were met with a slap on the arm or hand or knee by the little cousins of the Roadrunner Cactus. They left their little spikey thorn things at every encounter. They are aggravating little boogers. The spikes are not very big, maybe a ½ inch to 1 inch on average, but serve to annoy greatly. Pulling them out took a lot more pull than I'd had expected. The little spikes are barbed and they hold on really tight. Mulley got the worst of it. He somehow managed to have one swat him on the side, along and just below his ribcage. Many little spikes required removal.

Enough about the cactus. Let's talk sand.

We had ridden a few short sections of really deep sand earlier but the afternoon of Day 4 would see a lot more. A whole lot more.

I traded in the KTM 450 and got me a ride on the Struggle Bus. And I rode that Struggle Bus like a champion!

It was, at the same time, frustrating and hilarious.

I am more than willing and able to laugh at myself. Given my riding accomplishments (or lack thereof) on the afternoon of Day 4, that trait served me well.

Riding in deep, coarse sand is a skill I understand intellectually. But experientially, not so much. Best I can describe my experience........

Imagine a large field. A Football field would serve for my purpose here. Now imagine you are at the end zone on one end and you are tasked with riding a marked path that weaves its way to the other end zone.

And now imagine the field is covered in 10-12 inches of BBs or small ball bearings.

That is how I felt. Nothing went where I wanted it to when I wanted it to. It was as if some unseen gremlin had invisible ropes tied to each end of the handlebar. Whenever the gremlin wanted a good laugh, he would jerk hard on one invisible rope and watch my reaction. Other times he might pull slow and steady and laugh as my attempts to correct for his sinister inputs resulted in a much slower loss of directional control.

It was a rolling joke. An outside observer might conclude that a blindfolded drunk guy was at the controls. Nobody would have argued with that assessment.

A few GoPro grabs. You might notice that the front tire is not always pointed in the direction I wish to make the bike go.





I rode behind Dan in virtually all of the deep sand sections. We brought up the rear. Sometimes I was laughing so hard it made matters even worse. One time starting off from a stop, Dan's sneaky invisible gremlin steered Dan directly towards a small scrub brush bush thing. Dan never checked up. Although he wasn't going much faster than walking pace, Dan rode right into and over the bush.

Like a boss.

I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.

Sometimes Dan fell over. And sometimes I joined him.





Eventually we cleared the deep sand areas and ditched our Struggle Buses in favor of our KTM. The trails were part single track, part double track and part service/jeep type roads.

We made good time and I was happy to be back on better footing.



We rode on. Sometimes we might all be stretched out for the better part of a mile. Some areas were very dusty and keeping a good distance made for a better ride.

The mix of terrain was great. Some hard pack and some really rocky sections. The terrain included a lot more hills now. We were making our way east, back towards the other coast.





It was after one stop for a short break that I found myself riding the hardest and fastest I would ride the entire trip.

#700 was much better suited, suspension wise, to me, my weight, riding style, whatever... I am not an expert when it comes to bike setup. It's a bell curve thing for me. If the setup strays way out to one edge of the bell curve, I will notice and seek a remedy. But, for the most part, if everything falls in the meat of the bell curve, well, that's good enough for me. I asked Kirk about the bike and he did say the front forks were all-together different from Numero Tres and the setup was a bit softer. Whatever the details, it worked much better for me.

#700 was, so far as I could tell, at the peak of the bell curve and riding the faster rocky sections was a lot more fun and a lot easier than had been the case with Numero Tres.

And so it was, while I was riding my best and hardest, that I crashed. I was probably doing a whopping 10 mph when the bike and I parted ways. Not much in the way of speed or drama. But more than enough to make my right pinkie very, very angry.

When we had left from the break, Kirk and Jason and Bryan had rolled out first. Mulley and I were next in line and by the time we got rolling the others were probably 400-500 yards ahead. I was ahead of Mulley and everything felt great. I took off and had no idea if he was right behind me or way back there somewhere.

I remember being conscious of the fact that I was riding way harder and faster than I had any business doing in the absolute middle of nowhere Baja. But everything felt great.  #700 really was a treat. Rocky hills up and down were a breeze.

I mentioned to my friends one time that I consider myself a "good rider". Not an expert by any stretch, but good. Or, as I said at that time "good enough".
Well, good enough served me well enough to catch up to the guys in the front. They were riding at a good clip. Not race pace, but certainly not out for a Sunday afternoon stroll.

The trail was mostly rocks with an occasional patch of loose, powdery dust.

Best I remember, Kirk and Jason and Bryan were pretty close together and I found myself about 20-30 yards behind Bryan when the 3 of them rolled through a short stretch of talcum powder-like dust. It was as if someone had suddenly put a pillowcase over my head. I could see absolutely nothing.

I grabbed the front and rear brake and speed was scrubbed off very fast. About the time the dust cleared (no pun intended) I saw a soccer ball sized rock directly in front of me. My front tire glanced off it and I was diverted to the right into a deep "sand drift".

The bike stopped almost immediately, I pitched off, over the right side of the handle bar. The bike never stopped running. About a minute later Mulley and Dan rolled up. I explained what had happened and we were back to riding.

Within a few minutes, I realized it. I had subjected my pinkie to some manner of aggravation. It was more than angry.

It was thoroughly pissed off.

[Brian A]

It wasn't too much longer before we all stopped for a break.



I explained my situation to the other guys. Kirk walked over and looked to me for a self-assessment. "It's broke." I can wiggle it and feel it move.  That's what I told Kirk. We got out the athletic tape and buddy-taped the pinkie to the ring finger. The pinkie was swollen up like a little sausage and was slowly getting worse.

I was lucky. Much of the riding the rest of the afternoon would be highway as we made the final leg of the day to roll into La Paz for our night's stay. Still some off-road stuff, but nothing too major.

About to hit the highway and head to La Paz.



La Paz is a big, bustling touristy town. Stop signs are mere suggestions. Red Lights garner more attention and respect.

We made our way to our stop for the evening. Another case of marginal accommodations.

Yeah, well.... It will just have to do for the evening.



Blas had our gear ready to carry to our rooms. We all did so, showered, and slid into more comfortable clothes and made our way to the big table under the patio by the pool.

Time to reassess the pinkie.

It was now swollen hard and would not bend at all. I rethought my initial assessment and began to think that maybe it wasn't broken. Matter of fact, I decided it wasn't. Just severely sprained.  In any event, I figured there was about zero chance I would be riding the final day. While nowhere near excruciating, it was more than a wee bit painful and the first signs of those funny blue and purple colors were beginning to appear.



And so it was, at the end of day 4, I figured I'd be catching a ride in the back of the truck, hanging with Jae and Blas for my final day in Baja.

In the back seat of the Tundra, with a severely sprained pinkie. That's what I was planning on.

I would be wrong on both accounts.

[Brian A]

We sat at the poolside patio table and snacked on some light fare prepared by Jae and Blas. Just before dark we all struck out on foot to take a walk to dinner.

We eventually made our way down to the water front and sat down here,



Dinner was at El Zarape Malecon. We ate outside, under the canopy attached to the restaurant store front. It was great food eaten in the company of some great people. I failed to take my camera so I have no photos.

Several of us sampled fried crickets (first time for me). They were just crunchy little things. I ate several of them.  Never felt the urge to hop great distances or rub my legs together and make funny sounds.

After dinner we walked back to our residence for the evening, with a stop along the way where those of us inclined to do so bought a coffee and a sweet treat. I really enjoyed the walk to and from the restaurant. I enjoy being in the mix of the locals. Seeing where young kids hang out and what they do and how they act. Walking past restaurants and bars and clubs and noticing the various cliental who patronize each. It was just a good  15-20 minute walk each way, through the streets of La Paz.

Back at the crib, we all soon found our way to our rooms. Every night so far had been spent at a really nice place and this night was no exception.

I slept great.


I woke before Mulley and took a shower. He was not far behind me. Coffee and breakfast was waiting for us back at the patio table. As had been the case with everything Blas and Jae sat in front of us, it was some fine coffee and fine food.

My attention turned to the pinkie. I had gone to bed, and had in fact, made my way down to breakfast, with the mindset that I would not be riding on my final day in Mexico.

I discussed the matter with Kirk. I then walked around to where the bikes were parked and sat on #700 just to see how it felt with my hand on the throttle.

Kirk showed up soon after.

I explained my thoughts to him. I accepted the fact that riding would be painful. That was a given. No heroics involved. I just accepted that riding would be painful, but I felt reasonably sure, tolerable.

My much bigger concern involved the rest of the guys. I did NOT want my "handicap" to somehow manage to compromise the final day for the rest of the group. They had paid their money and deserved the full benefit for that.

I have to compliment Kirk. He neither encouraged me to go or not to go. He asked a few questions, explained what was planned for the day and I never felt any pressure one way or another. There was something in him that made me think/feel he thought I would be OK and doubted my presence would pose a great threat to the day's ride.
He explained that if things went south for me, there was a place mid-day where he could have Jae and Blas meet us with the truck. I could, if need be, bail at that time.

And so I decided...... "My finger can heal when I get home to Alabama, but I can't ride in Baja when I get home to Alabama."

And so it was that we agreed I would join my riding buddies for our final day in Baja.

An aside: I was genuinely and sincerely appreciative of the attitude of the 5 other guys. Not a word of concern was ever uttered that lead me to believe a single one had the thought "Great.... He's going with a fat, swollen, sausage finger and we'll probably spend half the day waiting for him."
Thanks guys. I appreciated it then and I do still.

The angry pinkie was securely buddy-taped to its next door neighbor and I wrapped tape around my hand for added support and protection.

We all got our gear on, gassed up the bikes and were soon on the road, headed out of La Paz for a great day of riding.








It was going to be such a good day and I would end the day so very happy I had decided to ride.

Very, very happy I had decided to ride.

[Brian A]

Before going into day 5 I'll close the book on the pinkie.

I was able to ride all day on Day 5. I managed pretty well except for a few miles of really deep sand. It would have been hard for me on a good day, but it is no exaggeration when I say I was beyond miserable for those few miles. It hurt. Bad.

Thankfully the deep sand was the smaller percent of the day and I managed pretty well all the rest of the day.

I got home and waited for the pinkie to get better. It never did. Two weeks after the event I went to the Orthopedic Doc. X-rays revealed the fact that it was broken. I was put in a splint which came off yesterday (2/28/17). It is still swollen like a little sausage and doesn't bend much at all, but as I said.... "My finger can heal in Alabama but I can't ride Baja in Alabama."

So... riding in Baja.....

We were on asphalt for a few miles out of La Paz but it wasn't too long before we turned off the road and were back on sand and dirt. It was fun riding.

We stopped at a little church that seemed to be off by itself.




We rode sand and dirt and some rocky trails, making our way back up into the mountains.

We stopped to look at this big rock. Sometimes you see something that makes you scratch your head and wonder "How in the world did this happen?"

I have no idea how that big rock got there.




Kirk explained the story goes that some ancient culture that lived in the area offered human sacrifice on the rock.




On we rode, getting back up to higher elevations.




Captain Kirk.



Me and Jason. No trip is complete without a photo with somebody flipping off the camera.



After an hour or so of riding we were back down out of the mountains and into "The Deep Sands of Torture". Man I hated those few miles. Really the only bit of riding the entire trip that I would have paid NOT to do (mostly blame the pinkie).

It wasn't long though until we hit a good, hard pack road and a few miles later turned right onto a highway.

We stopped for lunch a few minute later in San Juan de las Planes at Restaurant Paola.






Jae and Blas rolled up in the Tundra and had lunch with us. Lunch was very good.




With our bellies full it was back to riding. We rode a few more miles on asphalt and the turned onto a double track trail that hugged the east side of the mountains, along the coast of the Sea of Cortez. It was fun dirt, rocky double track.

We stopped a few times to soak in the scenery.



We came upon a group of folks stopped in the trail. A fairly large group of folks. It was pretty obvious they were at work retrieving something from down the bank. We learned that a lady had been riding a four wheeler with other folks when she had some sort of incident and ran off the trail, headed down the steep bank. She had not gone very far before the four wheeler stopped. She escaped with just a few scratches here-and-there.

When they went to winch the four wheeler back up the hill and onto the trail, the winch cable broke and the four wheeler bounced way down the hill.

They were almost finished with the process of getting the four wheeler back up onto the trail when we arrived on the scene. This attempt being successful with a combination of winch power and a guy on the four wheeler who was using its power to assist the winch.




Mission accomplished, we rode on. About a mile later the trail left the side of the mountain and turned into a regular dirt road. We were back amongst houses and such, presumably where the lady who rode off the side of the hill and her friends had left from.

Riding on this silt covered road kicked up tons of dust so we were all spaced wide apart.

After a few minutes Kirk slowed to a stop and one by one we all stopped along with him. We turned left and hit the beach. The beach here had people on it. Regular people who sit in the sun or lie on the sand and take a nap. We made sure we didn't run over any sleeping sunbathers while we indulged in shenanigans.

Kirk lead us off the beach and into the dirt parking area at Lazy Daze Beach Bar.




We all shed our helmets and gloves and sat down to relax and enjoy a cold Pacifico. It was a great time and I was glad to be there.




We had ridden on the beach for the last time. I walked down to the beach and took a few pics and threw a rock out into the surf.



I stood there for a few minutes and thought about it..... Not much more than 3 months earlier the thought of riding on the beach in Baja, Mexico had not even been on my radar screen. And yet, there I stood, looking back on five days in Baja. Four days or riding on the beach and all manner of rocks and sand and such, and one day of fishing and having fun with Mulley and 4 new good riding buddies and Kirk and Jae and Blas.

Kinda crazy but I thought "If I could turn right on this beach and follow the coast all the way to Alaska, I'd come to Valdez, where Mill and I had sat at the harbor just 7 months ago and enjoyed fresh Alaskan seafood."

Motorcycles are great things. What you can do on them is even greater. What you can do on a motorcycle on a beach in Baja, well.... That's the stuff dreams are made of.



I walked back up to Lazy Daze to spend more time with my friends.

[Brian A]

We all sat around at Lazy Daze for a few more minutes and then it was time to go. We walked out to the bikes and all of us threw a leg over the seat for the last time.

It was just a few minutes on a mix of dirt and asphalt until we were back at Hotel los Pescadores.  Our ride was over.

#700 had treated me right the last two days. Nothing against Numero Tres mind you. Numero Tres was a good bike. I had just enjoyed #700 more.

We all showered and threw on casual clothes. Mulley and I packed all of our riding gear into the suitcases and had the bulk of all the packing for the trip home taken care of that evening so we wouldn't have to mess with it the next morning.

Me and Mulley and Jason and Bryan drove into town. It was only a mile or two. We picked up a few more souvenirs and watched a lady working on a hand operated loom in her little shop. She was making a blanket. Given the steps involved, I figured it would probably take me about 3 years to make a blanket. I also figured the price I'd be required to charge for that one blanket would mean it would never sell and I would starve to death trying to earn a living making blankets on a hand operated loom.

Apparently the lady was much better at blanket making. There were many blankets and shawls and such on the shelves. Mulley bought a few things to bring home for his wife and kids. 

The rest of the group showed up and we had dinner at Smokey's Grill and Cantina. It was good food and we all enjoyed laughing and having a good time at our last dinner together.

Tuesday morning dawned just the same as the last five had. I was awake before Mulley and the weather was nice.

Everybody showered and we all met in the lobby area. We had breakfast in the same outdoor eating area where we had eaten breakfast the first morning, before we left to start our 5 days of fun.

After breakfast Blas drove us to the airport and we unloaded our luggage and made our way through check in and to the gate area.

Goodbyes were said and Mulley and I soon boarded our plane.

The 737 taxied, turned and started its take off roll.

Then it was Wheels Up and Feet Wet.

Adios Baja California Sur. 

It doesn't snow a lot in Alabama. Every now and then in the winter time we will see a decent snow, but it's not a regular winter time event for us.

As a kid, I always loved when it snowed (still do as an adult). I liked the way it made everything look clean. And how it deadened noises and it would be so quiet outside at night when everything was covered with snow. I loved to go outside and play in it. I really, truly enjoyed those times.

I also remember the empty, sad feeling I would have when the sun, and inevitable warmer temperatures, would melt the snow. The fun I had, and the playing with friends in the snow, was over. Gone.

Sort of like the feeling you would get as a kid on December 26th. After all the wait and anticipation, Christmas had come and gone.

And that is what I thought about when we flew out of Cabo San Lucas. That sad feeling I would get when the snow melted or when Christmas was over. The thing I had so anticipate had come, it had been great while it happened, but now it was over.

The anticipation for the next time would begin soon after.

And that is how I left it in my mind as we flew over the Sea Of Cortez, headed for home. The big event was over and soon I would be looking forward to the next time.

Just today a few of my riding friends and I have settled on dates and the early plans are getting firmed up. Looks like the "next time" will be a road trip.

A trip for dinner.   Lobster to be exact.

Lobster, in Bar Harbor, Maine.

Last spring it was a long weekend trip to Key West. 
Then last fall saw me and my buddy Mill riding in Alaska.
A month or so ago I was with Mulley in Baja.

That's far SE, the far NW and the far SW.

And now, the far NE?   Well, it just seems like the proper thing to do.

[VWCarlos]

Sounds like you had a great trip and a grand adventure. Hope the pinky healed up well... Thanks for sharing the ride with us. I enjoyed reading it all.