Greatings! We’ve done a fair bit of riding and what-not since I last updated… yes, yes, I know I never got around to doing the second part of my update. Tonight, I remidy this. Im typing from a youth hostel in a city called Zacatecas. Zacatecas is (according to Pat ) as mexican as you get. We rolled in to the city around 5pm and set ourselves up, tomorrow I get to explore. Zacatecas is an old city, beautiful cobbled roads and joined building, it is very Spanish. But more on that later.

We’re in Zacatecas!

Our Route through Baja for reference (clicky):

Continuing the story - more San Felipe

Whilst in San Felipe my musical itch became unbearable. My scratch came in the form of a tiny (and incredibly shitty) spanish guitar, bought for $40 dollars. I overpaid, but what the hell. Torsten said I was crazy for trying to take a guitar traveling on a motorbike, and at his advice I left my old cheap nylon string guitar with him in San Francisco. Fellow musicians came empaphise with me i’m sure, after having a great jam out in San Diego on a borrowed guitar, I needed to take one with me. This is the tiny guitar you can see strapped to my bike haphazerdly in the photos of the ‘Road’ to Gonzaga bay. As my good friend Ben says, a guitar is like a third arm for people like me. This particular guitar lasted aproximatley 5 days.

After one night at the RV park in San Felipe, we hit the road to camp on the pourch of Torstens house, around 50 k’s south. We arrived late the first night, and preceded to scare the neighbours completley by rolling up and`pitching our tents. The tension thawed the following morning when they got to see us in the day light, and find that we were not evil thugs people but charming young men of virtue. We set up camp for 3 days or so, and unwound on the beautiful beach.

Our first nights meal of fresh fish and shrimp (provided by Dave) was so tasty we thought it would be a great idea to catch our own for the next night. About an hour in to my carving of a stick into a spear (to catch fish Survivor style), Torstens neighbour Randy took pity on me and leant the use of his Fishing Rod, bait, and a case full of hooks. For the next 5 hours I cast off the beach and relaxed. After 5 lost hooks, and possibly one bite (I guess i’ll never know for sure), I gave up for the day and we settled for canned tuna (Yum!). Randy and Carol kindly took us out for dinner the next evening, and then feed us hot cakes the morning we set off to tackle the infamous ‘Road’.

The ‘Road’ to Gonzaga Bay

This was our off-road baptism of fire, and in hinesight we should have let our tyres down to 20 psi…. in all the excitment we had completley forgotten about this very very important task. This is a mistake we would pay for with many lost bolts, and numerous lost items. Some may have noticed my use of ‘’ around the word Road when I refer to this thing. Thing. Basically the ‘road’ consisted of loose sand and rock over washboard, and wound up into high passes where the loose stuff is replaced by huge rocks protruding from the mountainside. You tackle road like this at a decent speed only by standing up on your foot pegs, and for the inexperienced like us this can be very tiring.

After 2 hours of vibrations and frustrations, I glance down where my saddle case shold be… gone. Oh god. I do a quick mental calculation of what I had of worth in the case, compared to having to drive BACK along the road a distance I was unsure of. 5 miles? 20 miles? I turn around and gun it. Angry at myself for not keeping a closer eye on my posessions, my anger seems to improve my ability to handle the road…. Up and over a crest… and there it is, a few items strewn around the place but mostly still all in the case. Wicked! I strap the thing back on and we head back to where Josh is parked up under a piece of scrub reading a book. On we go at a far greater pace then before, eager to finish up for the day. Ultimatley it was a combination of the increased pace, and some hell deep gravel on a corner that proved my undoing. Coming around the corner the gravel deepend, and I gunned the throttle to keep control of the bike. At an awkward angle this resulted in my back wheel skidding out, and I low-sided at around 30 mph. The damage was a bent handle bar, and of course my pride, but thankfully I was fine.

Nearing the end of the road, the Pemex (petrol station) at Gonzaga bay came in to sight. Yes! No. I hear a klunk, see sparks shoot out the back of my bike, and suddenly my engine sounds like 40 lawnmowers hitting a roadside curb. Oh God, the trips over. The engines gone. I stop the bike, and to my horror (but also relief) my muffler has detatched from the bike and dropped down, lodging itself between the frame and the wheel - the three heavy bolts had clean vibrated out of the bike. Having re-attached the muffler with the help of the locals, we camp up for the night, and hang out with a bunch of mexicans from Tijuana and a crazy Canadian biker named Paul, who has spent the past few weeks cruising around Baja on his Honda XR. I play my new (slightly bruised) tiny guitar. One of the great quotes so far on this trip goes to Paul (in crazy Canadian accent):

When I tell people i’m going to Mexico, they say to me “I wouldn’t go if I were you”. I say to them, “yeah if I were you” I wouldn’t go either.
They say to me “Why? Is it the drugs?”
I say “No”
“Is it the crime?”
“No. If I were you, i’d spend my money on a big 200 inch flat screen TV, a nice new lounge suite, then go and fucking rot”

The next day we complete the road without further incident, stopping in to see a famous local named Coco at Coco’s corner. Boy, are we releaved to see pavment! We jump on to the main higway, then take the exit to Bahia de Los Angeles, a beautiful smooth road (pavement!) with huge cactus’ (cactuses?) protruding from the landscape. We arrive at the bay and marvel at the islands from the top of the hill, before winding down to the beach. We park up at a great camp spot where we find Dave, and an empty pallaba right next door to him… sleep!

The Mission at San Borja

The next day Dave is off again further down the road to San Ignacio, where we plan to meet him that night. We had a great tip from Paul the crazy Canuck on a cheap Bed and Breakfast to stay, but today we have an important diversion to make - the mission at San Borja. The road to the Mission snakes off from the road to Bahia de Los Angeles, and connects back on to Highway 1 further south. Very similar to the road to Gonzaga Bay (minus the loose sand) the road is tricky, but I tackle it with a new found confidence of dirt riding. Erm, shall we say over confidence. I gun the bike up a steep hill climb, but my line isn’t quite right - I hit a huge rut near the top… crap crap, stay up right, okay i’m good… not so good. The rut alters my line so that i’m going too fast at the top, aiming at a rather steep fall from the road to the rocks and nasty cactus below. I opt to lay the bike down rather then fall to a prickly fate, and I go down at about 20 mph…. ow. I’m okay again, but my crash bars have been bent to hell - altho it seems i’ve evened up my handle bars through going down on the opposite side My little spanish guitar is broken… in true rockstar fashion I hurl the thing into off the side into the desert, where it lands comically in the cactus. Take that, cactus!

We arrive at the Mission a little after midday, and boy is it hot. The mission is beautiful, built from stones that have been carved out of the cliffs that surround the valley. Why is it located in the middle of the desert? There is a fresh water spring located near by, and this is where an indian tribe lived until the Jusuites arrived from Spain, converted them, and promptly turned them into slaves to build the mission and mine gold (for the glory of Jesus). Later the Mission was run by the Franciscans, and the Domicans - each of there garb is on display in the Mission, and I snapped some photos. Inside the mission is wonderfully cool, the thick stones absorbing the heat.

Having finished up there, we connect back on to Highway 1 and make it to San Ignacio very late in the day. The recent hurricane has caused an outbreak of flowers throughout this part of Baja, coming into Gurero Negro in particular, the scent is amazing as we cruise along. The Bed and Breakfast is full, but we find a nice cheap hotel near by… and sleep.

The next day Josh heads out to the Pacific coast to check out the whales (I shall let him update you you on that), while I head to Mulege hoping to catch up with grizzly Dave.

mmmMulege! (and the Bay of Conception)

I will always remember Mulege. So much happened here that I felt like a local by the time I had left, and I knew the place like the back of my hand.

Mulege (moo-la-hey) is only a small town, but there are a fair amount of R.V. parks and camp sites around the place due to its location only a few km’s up the road from the beautiful Bahia Conception (Bay of Conception). A river winds its way down through the town, campsites and holiday homes, before meeting the bay. Along the river bank some seventy percent of the holiday homes are missing walls, windows, doors, and are covered in mud, due to the hurricane that swept through a few months back. The bay itself was spared most damage, but the hurricane had pushed into the mountains - dropping its payload of water which turned into a 30 foot wall sweeping down the river at 4 a.m. in the morning. Some homes are well under way to being repaired, some seem to have been abandoned.

The first night I can’t seem to find Dave around the place, and Josh is over on the Pacific coast for the night checking out the whales, I pitch my tent and head to the bar. I get talking to 4 lovely ladies from Todos Santos, who I then end up out at dinner with in town. The next night Dave rolls in to camp, and later Josh arrives from the coast. Dave suggests a kayak trip for a few days, camping out on a few of the Islands… sweet! Dave has two kayaks, we hire a third, and set out from a small bay known as Santispac quite late in the day.

Kayaking the Bay of Conception

We head out late in the day, swinging around two small islands before arriving at a much larger Island. I forget the names, but will make sure to hit Dave up for them the next time I see him. It’s it is getting dark by now, so we quickly through up our tents and start scrounging around for some fire wood. Josh and I visited a butchers earlier in the day and bought some Carne Asada (good meat?) to cook a stir fry with. Starting the fire is a little tricky, most of the wood is either green or a bit damp, but we get a smallish one going eventually. I will forever remember this meal is having promised so much, yet being so bad, so very bad, it is burned into my brain forever. It started going downhill when we discovered the corn on the cob we had bought to cook had sat for too long, and was too dry to eat. No biggy. With all the stirfry bits chopped and ready, out came the meat. What ever type of meat it was (goat?), that animal must have been hard to kill. It was tough. So tough, I don’t think I manged to bite off a bit to swallow, opting to eat the green peppers and onion instead. Dave quiped that we’ed wake up in the morning and find a vulture sitting by our fire. And it would still be chewing. Okay, okay, so i’ve had little bits of green pepper and onion for dinner so far. Not ideal, but at least now we have popcorn! Oh, no salt. Hey, we have Garlic salt - it can’t be that different right? Imagine eating crunchy pieces of garlic.

The next morning was stunning, beautiful. I woke before dawn and climbed all over island, its rocky slopes making ideal hand and foot holds. This became a little ritual for me actually, every day on the island I would wake before the sun, and make sure I was at the top for sunrise. That day we hung out on our private beach, drank coffee, and took a quick excursion to another beach further down the bay. Earlier that day we had visitors - a great guy named Mike had arrived on the island via Kayak, and had invited us for dinner at his batch on a bay a short paddle away. That evening we paddled out and had a great meal, drank too much beer, and paddled back to the island around 10 p.m, the moon high in the sky. Something strange happened.

I dipped my Kayak paddle in the watter, and it seemed to light up. Whaaa? Each paddle splash created a little pool of light. Streaks of light appeared in the water in front of us, as fish shot through the water. Wow… Dave explained that at a certain temperature, in a certain depth of water, algea generate bioluminesence when disturbed. Fish start jumping out of the water, and a couple end up in Dave and Josh’s kayak. Josh throws a fish at me, it hits me in the arm. We’re pretty drunk, full of good food, kayaking underneath a clear sky of stars… slicing through a bay of liquid stars, towards our own private beach. I can’t explain how I feel, words won’t do justice.

The next morning, beautiful. We have visitors in the form of three cute girls from a ranch a few bays down. We chat, then offer them some of the freah shellfish that we scooped out of the beach, and have steamed open with tequila and lime juice. After an hour they say farewell and continue on their journey. We ask ourselves how this trip could get any better. Suddenly, a boat appears from nowhere, looks like a thirty footer or so, and it anchors up close to the beach. Out of the cabin appears a 70 year old grey bearded man. Naked. We take it as a sign from God to leave asap. Josh remarked later that he had never seen a camp packed so efficiently.

Mulege, Kareoke, Pig Races and Presidential Retreats

Back in Mulege we return the kayak, and head out for dinner. After dinner we had planned to meet up with the girls we had met earlier that day in the local gringo bar. We round the corner and… catastrophy! The bar is closed, and has been for a few hours. Ah well, we buy some cheap beer and walk around for a bit, come accross a local bar where they are singing mexican kareoke. Awesome. It appears the regulars have three favorite songs, because we sang those same three songs over and over again for 2 hours (between beers). We stumble out of the bar, hop aboard Daves jeep and head back to Ecomundo.

Let me introduce Eco-mundo. Located on one of the small beaches south of Mulege, it was an eco alternative to staying in a hotel. Grass hutts adorn the beach, each with a solar panel to power a light and a fan, and a comfy bed with foam mattresses inside. It’s also abandoned - the owner had a tax problem apparently. A Federale tax problem. He split, leaving everything as it is, and is now trying to sell the place apparently. Dave had discovered the deserted complex, and had been camped there previously. We pull up and get a roof, nice comfy bed and toilets for free. The next day we head back to Mulege for the annual pig race, a fundraising event for the local *something*. Sadly it has become a haven for old gringos to drink beer and eat hot dogs. We say Hi to a bunch of familiar faces, and after the event we meet Tim and Loren for the first time. You know, those crazy cats with the 70cc scooter?

Also after the event I meet a guy named Dal. He’s a retired american, around 50 or so. After yarning about my bike for a while, and the fact that it needed desperate maintenance, he offered the survices of his garage and tools… sweet! Dave, Josh, Laren and Tim all head to Lorretto early the next day, while I head out to Dal’s ranch - Rancho La Vantana. It turns out this is an ex-presidential retreat, Dal produces photos of Ronald and Nancy Reagan standing in what is now his living room. He also shows me a photo John Wayne visiting the ranch. Dal himself used to train the FBI and CIA in hostage negotiations. He also blows a mean Jazz Sax, and while I parked up on his porch cleaning my bike, he introduces me to a band called ‘The Nightcrawlers’. These guys were some of the top jazz players in the world, coming together in a traditional New Orleans Brass Band format, which pretty much blew my mind. Guys, find their CD. Listen to it.

Having finshed up at Dals, I hit the road to Lorretto. It’s already dark, and the drive is pretty much uninteresting, I arrive around 11pm and meet up with the others.

La Paz…. Carnival!

We arrived the night before the weeklong carnival was schedualed to begin. This week is a bit of a blur. We found a nice cheap hotel room and between the 5 of us it worked out to around $3nz per person per night. This was good, as I pretty much blew my budget out on too much good mexican beer. Tim, Loren, Josh and I crossed over to Mazatlan via the ferry for the last few night of the carnival on the main land, while Dave continued his adventure further south. After carnival in Mazatlan we worked our way down the pacific coast, stopping at Caimanera and Mexicalitan. It was here that we said godbye to Tim and Loren, and tackled the road from Ruiz to Zacatecas.

… and i’ve run out of time! Today we leave Zacatecas, heading south to Guanajuato for 3 or 4 days, then down to Acapulco and the beach. I’ll try try try to get up to date when we get there, for now you can enjoy Josh’s account of our crossing over from the pacific coast to Zacatecas, and some new photos.

Posted on Wednesday, February 28th, 2007 at 6:07 pm in Jonno's Journal.
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