Motorcycle Alabama

Well, let's get the ball rolling!

I know quite a few folks have kept up with the trip via facebook, and that is cool. But, as I am want to do, a proper ride report is in order. I will mention up front it might be a bit sporadic. I have some work travels over the next week or two which will prevent me from spending time working on the report when I am away for work.

First thing: It was a fantastic trip. I can't - and won't be able to - say enough good about the trip. The riding. The scenery. The guys we rode with.
The outstanding! level of service provide by Kirk, Jae and Blas w/ Captain-Baja Adventures. Everything was great. Awesomely great.

I did as I did with the Ecuador ride report: I did a video first. I was anxious to get something together to feed the beast.

The beast of living life.

Living it to the fullest extent one can and then reliving it again (and again) via pictures and video. Every picture and every video clip, no matter how many times viewed, seems to reveal another subtlety. A flashing moment in time. A memory captured by the magic ones and zeros that form the bits that form the bytes that form the pictures and videos.

The video should serve as a solid introduction into just a bit of the fun we had. More, much more, to come.

But for now, kick back, watch this in HD with the volume up. And do as I do: Grin from ear to ear.

Then, watch it again. And grin some more.

Feed the beast.

I often don't have the patience to watch videos, I normally prefer ride reports with pictures.  This video is different.  When you posted it on FB I watched it 2 or 3 times and  I'll watch it again, it's that good.  I am looking forward to the rest of your report.

Quote from: klaviator on February 05, 2017, 12:01:17 PM
I often don't have the patience to watch videos, I normally prefer ride reports with pictures.  This video is different.  When you posted it on FB I watched it 2 or 3 times and  I'll watch it again, it's that good.  I am looking forward to the rest of your report.

Thank you sir. I have watched it a number of times myself. It really does "feed the beast".  The memories of 5 days of life very, very well spent.

And it makes me look forward to the next trip.  Whatever that trip happens to be.

It was a few weeks before Christmas when Mulley called me. "Hey man, you never responded to the message I sent you." I told him I had no idea what he was talking about. He explained that he had sent me a message about a motorcycle trip we had the opportunity to get in on. "Ok." I said. "Let me go back and review my messages and I'll give you a call back."

It didn't take long. I called Mulley back. "I'm in. This sounds great!"

Mulley and I have ridden together in Ecuador and Colorado and various more local venues and we always manage to have a good time. He is a great friend and riding buddy and based on experience, I knew a good time was going to be had.

It was a friend of Mulley's who was planning the trip with a few friends of his. There would wind up being 6 of us who would make the trip. Nobody in the group knew everybody before the trip. It was a case of everybody knew somebody and if the somebody they didn't know was a good friend of the somebody they did know, well, that was good enough for everybody.

Our destination was Cabo San Lucas, Baja California Sur, to ride with Kirk Russell, owner and ride leader at Captain Baja Adventure Tours. It was a package deal. Five days. Show up with all your gear and get ready to ride. When riding, we would need carry nothing more than a hydration back pack and a few basic items.  A chase truck would carry all our luggage, etc. to the next destination.

This trip was to be about riding. Each of us on a very nicely prepped KTM 450. All the hassles were off the table. We were going to ride. And ride we would.

I picked Mulley up at 4:45 am on Jan. 25th and we were off to the Birmingham airport. A few hours later we had made the connection in Atlanta and were on Delta Flight 389, Airbus A320 service to SJD.

The flight time was a little over 4 hours so we had time to watch a movie, eat snacks and nap a little. Mulley never seems to have a problem sleeping. Anywhere. Anytime. Think of Sleeping Beauty. Without the "Beauty" part.

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We were getting closer. We looked down to see the Sea of Cortez.

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It was not much longer before we were " feet dry" then "wheels down" then rolling to a stop on the ramp at Cabo San Lucas airport. Two of the other guys we would ride with had been on the same flight, with one other arriving about the same time on a different flight. We all found each other, gathered our gear and soon enough were sitting outside the terminal, waiting on the last guy, who would show up in about 3 hours.

The bar outside was open air. We had chips and salsa and ceviche and sashimi. We were all surprised at how good the food was.


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In no time at all we were all joking and laughing like we were all life-long friends. Whatever and however it happened, we all noticed and commented. It was clear: This was going to be a VERY good 5 days.

Our waiter was super friendly. Nice guy. We paid our ticket and tipped him well. To our surprise he soon delivered a beer for each of us. "On the house."
Yep! This is going to be a good trip.

I called him over and told him, again, "Thanks." and handed him another tip.
$5.00.  He was genuinely appreciative. I felt like I got more out of the deal than he did.

With our final riding buddy on the scene it was time to load up and head out. Our ride was provided by Captain Baja. Our "chauffeur" was Blas.

Blas.....  Chauffeur.  Cook.  Bike prepper and maintenance guy.   Gear loader and unloader.  Joker.  Laugher. 
Serious one minute and as light as a feather on the wind a minute later.

Blas.

Five minutes after we met him it was further confirmation. This is going to be a GREAT trip.


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With all our luggage and gear stuffed into and strapped onto the Suburban we rolled out of the parking lot and were on our way.


Good times lay ahead!


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Cabo San Lucas, located at the southern tip of The Baja Peninsula has a population of 69,000 people. Archeological excavations show evidence of human habitation in the area for 10,000 years or more.

"Southern Baja" as it is often called, is really Baja California Sur. And to get more technical, it is officially known as the 'Free and Sovereign State of Baja California Sur'. The total population of Baja California Sur is about 715,000. It became an official Mexican state in 1974.

Much of the interior of the southern peninsula is made up of the Sierra la Laguna Mountain Range. The highest peak is Sierra de la Laguna Highpoint at 6,857 feet (2,090 meters). We would ride across this mountain range.


Blas is quite a character. Not the least bit bashful and is apparently taken to befriending the cliental quite quickly with a natural, easy-going disposition and great sense of humor.

We hit Mexico Federal Highway 1, headed for our destination for the evening: Los Barriles. Along the way Blas stopped at convenience store. We bought soft drinks, some beer and some snacks. The young guy behind the counter was friendly and smiled a lot. I am sure he was glad to have gringos come in and spend a bunch of money buying stuff. I guess it worked both ways because we were all happy to be there, spending our hard earned cash.

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The ride from the airport to Los Barriles was about 45 minutes. It was uneventful and passed quickly as we all bantered back-and-forth and watched the scenery roll by.

We arrived at our destination for the evening, Hotel Los Pescadores ("fishermen"). Kirk and Jae greeted us upon arrival and Blas jumped into action unloading all our suitcases and gear.


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Los Barriles ("barrels"). Hernan Cortez discovered southern Baja in 1535. Soon after, missionaries began to arrive. As the story goes those early travelers would stop at Los Barriles, which had a good supply of fresh water, to fill their ship's water barrels for travel. Hence the name, Los Barriles.


Blas delivered our gear to the hotel lobby and we all made our way to our rooms. The accommodations were nice.


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Just off the lobby/pool area sat a line of KTM 450 motorcycles. I stood there and looked at them. I wondered which one would be mine.


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We all got situated in our rooms about sunset.


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It wasn't long before we headed out to dinner at a local restaurant.  We started with a bunch of sushi rolls and they were exceptional!

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Dinner followed close on the heels of the sushi rolls and everyone appeared to have had their fill. We took the short drive back to our hotel where we sat around and talked for a while, then we all wandered off to our rooms.

Mulley and I shared a room. We crawled in our beds and settled in for a good night's sleep. We talked for a minute or two. I remember I asked Mulley a question. He answered. No more than 60 seconds later, he was snoring. 
Mully. He can sleep anytime. Anywhere.

I was not far behind him.

In 12 hours we would be riding motorcycles in Baja.


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I tend to be an early riser by nature and the fact that local time in Los Barriles was one hour behind Alabama time meant I was awake before the alarm went off.

Mulley was not.

I got up and showered and as I was drying off, I heard the alarm go off.

Mulley was now awake.

He showered and we walked down to the lobby area for some coffee.

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Several others showed up and we enjoyed fresh juice and more coffee. And some small slices of chocolate cake sitting on a serving tray which had been made available to us. It wasn't much longer before the entire crew was present and we were served breakfast in the open air eating area, seen above in the picture I took of the bikes, the evening before.

With breakfast complete, we all got our riding gear on, dropped our gear off in the lobby area, and made our way to the dirt road in front of the hotel. The bikes had already been moved and were there waiting for us. Kirk asked us each a few question and based on our answers, and our riding weight, he assigned us each a bike.

My steed was to be numero tres.

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Mulley spent a few minutes with some tie-wraps, securing his camera pouch to the handlebars. Such activities require extreme concentration.

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Blas don't play. Well, actually Blas DOES play, but Blas also WORKS! While we were getting ready to ride, he was busy loading our gear and getting stuff ready to head out in the chase truck. He and Jae would be handling all the logistics and details while we focused on riding. Can't complain about that!

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With everybody assembled and bikes assigned, we all threw a leg over our respective bikes, thumbed the starter buttons and the KTM 450s came to life. A few minutes later we rolled down the dirt road.

At this point in time, I had absolutely no idea what to expect. Would we ride a long way on a dirt road to "get to where we would be riding"?  Well...... it didn't take long to find out.

We hit an asphalt road and went no more than a mile or so when Captain Baja took a right turn. We were now officially "Riding in Baja"! We turned onto (into?) a very wide arroyo. The sand was fairly deep in some areas but no so bad overall. There is not a lot of sand in the areas I ride in Alabama, so my sand riding experience is a bit limited. Riding in this sand was not difficult. It was fun. (Later experiences – riding in very deep, coarse sand - were to be less pleasant. In fact, I was to discover that I suck, terribly, hugely suck, at riding in deep coarse sand. More on that later)

The further up the arroyo we rode the narrower it got and then we ran into water and harder packed sand. This was even more fun!

The arroyo eventually narrowed down and ended at a small waterfall amongst a lot of big granite rocks. We paused here for a short break for a few pictures.

Dan. From Arizona.

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The small waterfall and big granite rocks.

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We turned around and headed back out of the narrow part of the arroyo. All having a great time playing in the sand and water. (a short clip of riding back out of the arroyo in the water is the water riding stuff in the video I shared in the initial post).


Once back out in the wider part of the arroyo, where the sand was a bit deeper and there was no water, Kirk lead us off to the right, to the edge of the arroyo where we took a trail that immediately began our ascent in what would be a ride across the mountain range.

This is a Google Map snip of the arroyo. The mark at the bottom is where we started. The mark at the top is where we stopped and turned around to head back out. Best I can tell, one of those trails visible on the left is where we turned off on our way back out.

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The trail varied from fairly smooth dirt to rough rocky sections. All of it fun.


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Mulley surveying the terrain.


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We reached the higher points of our trail ride across the mountain range and stopped a few times for a snack and to take some pictures.

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In this pic you can see Kirk rubbing his head. Mulley picked up a rock to see how far he could throw it off the side of the mountain. He hit Captain Baja square in the head. Captain Baja was pretty angry.

I kid! I kid! Mulley didn't hit him with a rock. I guess he just had an itch or something. Maybe rubbing the sweat off his brow. Whatever the case, no rock was involved and he wasn't angry at Mulley.

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The area seen in the background is where we were headed. Down out of the mountains and across the big flat expanse that we could see in the distance.

In this pic, we are further along the trail closer to the coast seen way in the distance.


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We rode on, making our way down out of the mountains and across the sandy flat land below. We eventually hit a highway and took a left, then about 2 miles later we took a right, back onto trails and more sand.

We made a good habit of pausing at turns to make sure nobody got left behind or missed a turn. Often times the dust dictated that a good bit of distance was necessary between riders. I waited at the turn off the highway onto the trail, thinking Dan and Will were behind me.

I waited.  And I waited.  I turned around and rode a mile or so back down the road. I never saw Dan and Will. I finally convinced myself I was crazy and that somehow they had gotten in front of me and I was in fact, the tail gunner.

I was wrong.

I made it back to the right turn off the highway and took off down the trail. A mile or so later I found Jason and Mulley waiting for me at the next turn. It was then that I found out I was NOT crazy and in fact, Dan and Will were somewhere "back there". We all turned around and headed back (knowing Kirk and Bryan would soon realize we were not behind them and would turn around to back track).

When we got to the road, we decided Jason and Mulley would sit there and wait, while I reverse rode our track until I got to the last place I knew I had seen Dan and Will.

Turns out I had stopped and turned around about a ½ mile too soon on my initial ride back down the highway. This time I rode far enough to find Dan and Will sitting on the side of the highway.

Dan's engine had seized. Locked up. Solid. No warning. Nothing but a solid lock-up as he was riding down the highway.  A nice skid mark bore witness to the event. Good thing he didn't crash. Will had already made contact with Kirk via cell phone and they were on their way back to join up with all of us on the side of the highway.

This would be the first instance where we got to see the value of dealing with people (Kirk, Jae and Blas) who REALLY have their act together.

Before you could say "Dan's engine seized and we are sitting on the side of the highway" Kirk had been on the phone. Help was on its way and we would not have to wait very long.

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The "Brian and Mulley do ????????" is probably my favorite series of ride reports in the whole internet!

Thanks for taking us along!

Quote from: Fencejumper09 on February 07, 2017, 08:18:01 AM
The "Brian and Mulley do ????????" is probably my favorite series of ride reports in the whole internet!

Thanks for taking us along!

Thank you. That is high praise!  It's a labor of love.

I enjoy riding with Mulley (and my other riding friends for that matter). I also enjoy sharing the experience, as best I can via Ride Reports, and knowing others enjoy reading along is icing on the cake.

More cake will be served soon.

When life gives you lemons you make lemonade. Or so the saying goes. Life had given us a lemon when Dan's engine seized, but, much to our benefit, we didn't have near enough time to make any lemonade.

Not sure how things worked out so fortuitous, but they did. It was as if it had all been by design but of course it hadn't been because nobody could have known when and where the bike would die. I guess all the signs that had lead us all to believe this was going to be  great trip were proving accurate.

Within a few minutes the Orange Tundra with trailer in tow arrived on the scene. Jae and Blas climbed out and we all joked and laughed while Blas unloaded one of the back-up bikes off the trailer to exchange for Dan's broken bike. In short order we were back on the road. All was right in the world.

I don't remember if it was just before Dan's bike failed or soon after, but in either case, this happened: We were back riding in a really, really big arroyo. We rode along a rock wall on the right hand side. The sand was pretty loose so good speed was needed to skim along the top. I loved this part. With Kirk in the lead, I was next in line off his left rear quarter. We buzzed along at a fast pace and soon came to a big cave in the rock wall. We all rode in and took break there for a few minutes and were then back to riding down the arroyo.


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Stupid Selfie. I am not a fan of "selfies" but I took two. Here is one of them. The other is of the same but it is blurry so I really only have one.

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So with Dan on a good bike and us back to riding, we rode a short while longer and made our way to a highway. We jumped on the highway and rode a short distance and then stopped for lunch at some small restaurant/hotel place. We parked the bikes in front. The view was nice.


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I was pretty hungry. I ordered a chicken hamburger. It was really a grilled chicken breast with bacon and pineapple and fixings. It was good. I also ordered a shrimp taco. What I didn't realize was I had ordered a shrimp taco MEAL. We all got a laugh when the two meals were sat in front of me. I was hungry but not that hungry. I ate one of the tacos and shared the others with Dan.


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My belly was full. I could have enjoyed a siesta but it was time to get back to riding. The ride after lunch was nice. Back up into the mountains.

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It was dusty. Bad dusty at times. 
Dan.
Dusty Dan.

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The remainder of the afternoon would be more of the same. Some good riding in the mountains and more riding in the sand.

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As the afternoon wore on we made our way back east to Cabo Pulmo. Cabo Pulmo is on a jut of land that makes it the most eastern point in Baja Mexico. For reference, Cabo Pulmo is pretty much at the same latitude as Havana, Cuba.

Our accommodations were nice. We had 3 open floor plan, cabana style buildings. Me and Mulley and Will got one. Jason and Bryan and Dan got one and Kirk, Jae and Blas got the third.

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Before dinner I walked down to the beach with Jason and Bryan. First time I had ever been on the beach for the Sea of Cortez. It was very nice. Pretty place.

I took some pics.

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Back at our crib for the evening, Blas had the grill fired up. We would be treated to some big fat shrimp, wrapped in bacon and a nice steak each to go along with it.
Great food.
Great folks.
Great times.

The night air was cool. Much cooler than I had expected it to be. I sat around and talked for a few minutes but soon felt the call of the bed. I had a nice hot shower and climbed into bed. Will and Mulley were not far behind me.

I lay there and thought back on my first day riding in Baja. It had been such a good day. Despite Dan's bike problems we had managed to have a great day.
Also, there had been two flat tires for Will. I did not mention those earlier because, well, it was just two flat tires. Kirk did the bulk of the work but a helping hand was provide when and where needed, replacement tubes were in (both times the rear) and we had been back to riding in short order.

As I lay there thinking, Mulley began to snore. I put my ear plugs in and rolled onto my side.  Nice and warm under the covers.

I was asleep in no time at all.

Great ride report. I am really enjoying the ride so far.

Thanks. I'm enjoying the re-ride!  :D

I put together a bunch of short clips from Day 1. The video has no music or commentary. Just a bunch of short clips to show the variety of conditions.
I tried to keep the clips short so it wouldn't get boring.

If you find yourself interested:

That last clip. Picking your way through the cow pie minefield. "That there is funny, I don't care who you are."

Much like FJ09, the "Brian & Mully Ride..." are my favorite ride reports always. You, sir, are an excellent storyteller! I always feel as close as one could to being there with you guys. I'm always awaiting the next installment of pure motorcycle entertainment. Just the right amount of prose, pics and video. Especially liked the video montage of all the different riding. Would be interested to see a pic or video of all the bikes lined up in the cave when all arrived there, if that exists. Watching that video I think I would be beat to death trying to ride like that LOL.

Always when these report come to a close I feel like I just finished the trip. Always then have to go back and read, look and watch it all again. Thanks for the work you put in these reports. I know its time consuming but probably fun reliving it all again.

Thanks Brian!

Stewart
Slapout, Ala.

It looks like Baja has some awesome riding.  Riding Baja has never been on my bucket list but I may just have to put it there.  Makes me want to get a more dirtworthy bike as well. 

Once again, I woke early. Not like 4:00 am early, but earlier than Mulley and Will. I lay there in bed for a few minutes to appreciate the comfort.

A stiff wind had been blowing when we went to bed. It had continued throughout the night and was still carrying on when I woke.

The roofs of the buildings were made of tightly folded and woven palm fronds. I don't know if there was any other more substantial building (decking) material hidden somewhere in the palm fronds or if they provided substantial protection from the elements all by themselves. In any event, palm fronds were what you saw on the inside and the outside. The exterior was covered by some sort of netting material.

The wind made quite a racket as it cut across the rough exterior surface of the roof. It made it sound like the wind was much worse than it really was. I lay there and wondered what it might be like in that same room during a hurricane.

In September of 2014 Hurricane Odile made landfall at the southern tip of Baja as a large Category 3 hurricane, with 127 mph winds. It is tied with Hurricane Olivia (1967) as the strongest hurricane to strike the southern Baja area since records have been kept. Odile tracked nearly straight up the Baja Peninsula before crossing the very northern part of the Sea of Cortez, then moving inland and later dissipating.
We saw just a few remnants of Hurricane Odile. Nothing significant really. A few seawalls along the beach that were broken and askew and a few structures that had been damaged and never full repaired. I imagine it would have been pretty intense to have been sitting in that room when Hurricane Odile came to visit.

With the sun creeping up, it wasn't too long before everyone was up and going. We had coffee and breakfast and made ready for the day ahead.

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I got Blas to take a picture of me with Kirk and Jae. They are good people.

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I got Jae to take a picture of me and Blas.  Look at the pic. That pretty much sums up Blas.  Cool dude that Blas!

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Once again, the bikes were lined up out front waiting on us.

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We all had our suitcases packed and set in place for Blas to load into the truck after we were on our way. We then donned helmets and gloves and fired up the KTMs. We took a short ride to a little marina area about ¼ mile from the house to get a view of the beach and ocean then hit a dirt road for a short ride to......

THE BEACH!!

We rolled though the deep sand that was furthest from the water and then found our selves in firmer sand and everyone saw fit to twist the throttle! Holy cow was it fun!

The only time I have ever ridden on the beach was on Daytona Beach, last March. I was on the Versys 650 at the time with 4 other friends on a mix of bikes. You had to go slow and getting rowdy was a no-no.

On the beach in Baja, on the morning of January 27th, 2017, there were no rules telling you to go slow and don't get rowdy. We had a blast!

Mulley having fun on the beach.

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Random beach picture.

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I like this pic. That is Dan.

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Mulley striking a pose.

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We rode on the beach for a while then turned off to pick up a dirt road. The riding today would be similar to yesterday, with more longer dirt and sand roads. I never made any attempt to try to keep up with where we were. I knew in general: southern Baja. And that was good enough for me.

I lied earlier. Well, I didn't actually lie. I just mis-remembered.

It wasn't Day 1 when Will had two rear tire flats. It was day 2. And now that I have made mention of it, I will share a few pics of it.

Flat #1. Captain Baja at work

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Flat #1. Will watches while holding the bike down so it doesn't float away. Jason frowns.

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With a new tube in place, we were back to riding.  For a short while.  Will had another rear flat.

I didn't take pictures of the work on this flat. It was a "Lather. Rinse. Repeat." kind of thing.  I did take a picture of the cows in the distance (with incidental capture of flat tire repair work).
Apparently they heard us and came over the top of the hill to see what the commotion was all about. They never came closer which suited me just fine. They stared a stare of what looked to be a "What are you doing here?" attitude.
Not the "Hey! Welcome! Let me walk over there and you can scratch my head." stare.
So yeah. It suited me just fine that they stayed way over there on that hill.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/645/32675669272_eb0ffbc8c2_b.jpg)

There was one of those little shrine things pretty close to where we stopped. I took a picture of it.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2538/32829135595_5cff1e24e0_b.jpg)

Before leaving Birmingham I had looked at a lot of picture and videos on the Captain Baja website and on youtube. I had seen the big cactus in those pics and videos. I had joked that I sure did hope I didn't have a bad experience with one of those giant Roadrunner Cactus plants. My buddy Kevin had joked back: "Anvils. Keep a watch out for the anvils."

The Cardón Cactus is the largest cactus in the world. Some have been measured at nearly 70 feet (21 meters) tall and they can weigh up to 25 tons. That's 50,000 pounds of "Cactus Death on One Leg"!
I don't think any of us had any encounters with a Roadrunner Cactus but several of us, including yours truly, had several encounters with their much smaller relatives. (more on that later).

A Cardón Cactus. This one is neither 70 feet tall nor 25 tons. But it was close to me and made for a good picture.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2562/32675656952_7aa567551e_b.jpg)

With another new tube installed we were back to riding. Again.
Will would have no more flats.

Our destination for the evening was Todo Santos. We would all arrive safe and sound.

But my steed, "Numero Tres" would not do so under its own power.

The tow strap would come out. Stay tuned....


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Day two riding was – overall – not as much technical stuff as Day 1 had been. A good bit more in the way of more open, faster dirt and sand roads. We made our way across the interior mountains from east-to-west.

We stopped a few times for some pictures.


Me

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Jason and Bryan

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Dan, Will, Bryan and Jason.

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The afternoon wore on and we all seemed to be having a good time. I know I was! The dirt and sand roads were fun to play on. The KTM 450 more that up to the task of breaking the rear tire loose at speed for some fun letting the rear end hang out a bit in the turns.

And there I was..... riding along..... having fun...... when.....

POOF!!  Numero Tres let out the slightest bit of a huff and the process of intake-compression-ignition-power-exhaust came to a dead halt. The engine did not seize, it just shut off. Like would be the case if the kill switch was pressed, or maybe bad?

I knew it was to no avail but I spun the motor over a few times. No joy. I wiggled and tapped on the kill switch button but it made no difference.
Numero Tres was not going any further under its own power until whatever ghost that was in the machine was identified and dealt with.

I think it was Will who took off to catch up to the guys in front to let them know. I took a few pictures while we waited.

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In just a few minutes they were back on the scene. I told Kirk I thought it was an electrical problem. The way it happened did not point to a mechanical failure.

He went to work and soon had the problem identified: The electric fuel pump was bad.
Kaput. Dead. It had pumped its last pump and Numero Tres and I were now victims of its untimely demise.

Kirk got the tow strap out, hooked it to his bike and then to my handlebars. He tied it to my handlebar. Solid. In a knot. The were no provisions for a break-away in the event I developed a wobble factor that exceeded my balance skills.

I took this as a great vote of confidence. Kirk had, in essence, tied his destiny to mine. At least for the next little while. I was determined to not disappoint.


And off we went. Over the river and through the woods. Well, not really. There was no river and the woods was really just a bunch of cactus plants. But off we went just the same.

'Nary a moment of trouble. We rode miles on the sand and dirt, up and down (nothing extreme) and across whatever ruts and stuff we came to. Judicious application of the brakes on my bike kept the rope tight in all but a few instances and even then it was not enough slack to throw us off our game. We never had to stop or readjust.

You can't push a motorcycle with a strap, but you sure can pull one.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/693/32055628833_03cb777546_b.jpg)


We eventually hit a major highway and took a right, headed into Todo Santos. Cool thing about Mexico, seems you can ride or drive whatever you want and so long as you aren't causing trouble, nobody seems to care one bit.


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We motored on. Correction: Kirk motored on. I got towed along.

Wasn't much longer when we rolled into our accommodations for the evening.

The place was really only marginally acceptable.

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Dan approves.


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I guess we can make do with this....

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Cool looking birds.


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And some really pretty flowers.

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Mulley and I got in the pool. The water was pretty darned cool but after a few minutes it didn't feel so bad.

Blas had everyone's suitcases unloaded and waiting for us. We all found our way to our rooms and showered then put on casual clothes. We would be heading out soon for a supremely fine dinner.

The sun began to set on a great day.


(https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/470/32828377436_501b220c7b_b.jpg)


More great times ahead.
3 more days.

fishing.
riding.
cactus.
and...... eventually.... the angry pinkie.

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.

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We eat.


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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.

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


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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.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2812/32064945164_337c457f4a_b.jpg)

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.

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.


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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.

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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.

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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.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/774/32860634812_80e06dd7b2_b.jpg)

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.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2343/32860656332_7c881bfb0d_b.jpg)

Keeping it simple...

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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.

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(https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/766/33016132325_9bdd935e4d_b.jpg)


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.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2611/33016121965_d9490a45d0_b.jpg)

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.

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A view - off the starboard bow.

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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.

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some blow-back through the carburetor.


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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.

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

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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!

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/526/32171422384_998424a739_b.jpg)

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.

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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.

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Dan and Captain Kirk

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

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Sunset as we rolled into Todo Santos.

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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.


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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!

Quote from: Fencejumper09 on February 21, 2017, 08:44:06 AM
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.

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!

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.....


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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.

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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.

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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.

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Jason is a Wheelie King.

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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.


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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.


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Then more riding and having fun on the beach

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

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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.


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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.

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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.


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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.


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

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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.

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The local horses.

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The local dog.

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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......

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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.

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

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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.


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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.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/4/3710/32314326844_a654a855fb_b.jpg)


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.

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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.


(https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/774/32776740100_28becba51d_b.jpg)


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.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/723/33031993631_af31a65323_b.jpg)

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.


(https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2927/32314325474_14f9db69f7_b.jpg)


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.

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

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/4/3858/32314324374_2cf58ca38d_b.jpg)

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.

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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.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2188/33021697576_9bb3f77549_b.jpg)

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.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2809/32314328284_ff09dac8e7_b.jpg)

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.

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(https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2940/32778237530_4defac4f77_b.jpg)

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,

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/774/33022958702_e1173ccbe7_b.jpg)

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.

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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.


(https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2831/33138334806_4cffce679f_b.jpg)

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.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/4/3816/33069738221_72011f7f5d_b.jpg)


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.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/679/33069746091_fa8797ee4a_b.jpg)


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

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On we rode, getting back up to higher elevations.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/568/33040814502_73de36ea06_b.jpg)


Captain Kirk.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2808/33155878866_15f0153eaa_b.jpg)

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

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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.

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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

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.

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.

Quote from: VWCarlos on March 09, 2017, 10:23:06 PM
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.

Thank you. I am glad you enjoyed it.

Fact is, the angry pinkie is being very contrary. Far more of a matter to contend with than I ever expected.
It is, I realize, just a pinkie. But it is doing its best to pay me back in spades for the misfortune I dealt it.

I remain convinced it heard me, early on, refer to it as being "just a pinkie".  Upon hearing my less than flattering comment, I think the pinkie was insulted and took issue with my assessment of its relative importance in the bigger picture.  The pinkie then decided to make a point, whereupon it said to its neighboring fingers "Hey guys, watch this."

Great Adventure!

Thanks for taking us along!

Quote from: Fencejumper09 on March 10, 2017, 07:10:01 AM
Great Adventure!

Thanks for taking us along!

Thank you.  I appreciate you going along with me on my revisit.

Great ride report and really awesome trip.  A good friend did a Baja trip a few years ago and told me about it but there is nothing like one of your ride reports to really see what it's like.

As for your next trip, I lived in Maine for 4 years.  Some great scenery there.  I'll be glad to share some of my favorite places to ride.

And just like that the journey is over.  :'(

Man what great trip. There is just so much that can put into a ride report without overloading it. Brian does a great job of staying focused and appealing to the reader. It's always interesting to see what he finds important or memorable vs how I remember it. Two people riding side by side. We literally did almost everything together for 7 days and how we remember things is so different. I find that fascinating.

There's also stuff that's better told over a beer summit than in writing. The "colorful" stuff.

I've haven't even looked at my pics or videos yet. It's been over a month now. I guess it's time. I also have Captain Kirk's videos from his rear facing GoPro. If only I knew someone that could edit them into a nice little film.

Before, when I thought of Baja, this is what I imagined...

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/4/3776/33063256205_e8dc6c9639_b.jpg)

Thank you for showing us all of the various types of terrain, landscapes, towns, people, etc.!

I'm with Glenn. That picture is gold. Great report Brian. Let me know if you need help corralling that ornery pinkie ;)

Thanks for the compliments and feedback.

If I was to say "It was a fun trip." that would be to speak of fun in the abstract. Doing ride reports gives me a chance to take fun from the abstract to "the real stuff."

As Mulley mentioned there was a lot of stuff that was left out. There always is. But never anything of great importance or anything that would change the story.

I try to walk the tight rope and keep a balance: enough stuff and fluff to (hopefully) keep it interesting but with an awareness that venturing off into the weeds and trying to recount all the details of every day could turn it into a boring read.

So thanks again. I appreciate knowing you guys enjoyed following along.

NOOOOOOOOOOOO! This report can't be over :-[?!!!! I love these multi day trip reports. Thank you for sharing, it was good to go along with you guys through the words and the pictures. I had fun! ;)

Quote from: Chuck A. on March 12, 2017, 06:45:24 PM
NOOOOOOOOOOOO! This report can't be over :-[?!!!! I love these multi day trip reports. Thank you for sharing, it was good to go along with you guys through the words and the pictures. I had fun! ;)

Good stuff for sure.  Thanks for the time and effort.

Alright Trull. You're getting behind on reports. 8)