Peenie Wallie

I used to wonder what all the hippies used to mean when they left home and said they wanted to "go find themselves". But I think I know now. I mean, to the hippies, it meant to go to San Francisco and get high and drop acid.

But it could mean something meaningful.

I think that the further we get from our comfort zone, the more we become who we really are, if that makes any sense.

I don't think a crisis builds character, but more that it reveals the character that was already there.

And I send Pete an email and asked him how he managed to ship his back from Peru. He replies right away and I'm like, well, I've got an XR650R down here in Baja California Sur and I'm not real clear what to do with it. He wants to know what year it is and pretty soon I've got him on the phone at a dollar a minute because this is mostly his fault anyway.

No one in their right mind would drive an XR650R from San Diego to Cabo, or vice versa, but that moron did so I figured I might as well try it and now that he's on the phone he says "Dude...just drive it back. You can be home in 3 days."

And something in this resonates. Now, I don't think I can have it "home" in Denver in 3 days. Not a chance. But I can have it back in the United States in 3 days, and I have many more options once I get it back in the country. If I don't bring it back now, it never will come back. I know that. I've lost many bikes. I know how that trick goes.

I have some concern about the mechanical condition of the bike. I watched it blow antifreeze out of the antifreeze overflow tube yesterday which concerned me. It was the first time I'd ever noticed it, but I was also hotter yesterday, and I did notice that the climate got significantly warmer from San Diego to Cabo. Big surprise, right?

So maybe it was just running a little hot because it was a hot day. And maybe the bike is fine. But the other thing that concerns me is that last night, when I was returning to the hotel from some taqueria, the bike acted like it wanted to die, so I switched it onto reserve, but it should have had a full tank. So this is puzzling to me and makes me wonder what's going on with my gas consumption.

But, on the other hand, if we assume that the bike is working fine, then the beauty of the new plan is that I can start right now. I can go outside and get on the bike and fill it with gas and head north and this is arguably the cheapest, fastest solution, though not the safest. However, if I wanted to be safe, I wouldn't have come down here. I wanted to make some tracks and now it's time to pay the piper and get home.

And if my cameras is broken, then so be it. I won't even shoot today anyway because I aim to make it back to Mulege tonight and there won't be time to stop if I'm to make it before dark.

So I pull my broken lens off my EOS 40D and put the caps on both of them so they'll ride better in my blue backpack and I pack my big camera in my larger black backpack that I keep precariously strapped across the IMS 4.6 gallon desert tank.

The problem with the black backpack strapped across the desert tank is that it essentially make my turning radius about the width of a football field. When you're going 70, it's not a big deal because you can't turn much anyway at 70. But when you slow down, it gets a little tricky sometimes.

I check out of the Hacienda Bugambilias in La Paz and start heading out of town. I stop at the first Pemex I come to.

"Roe Hoe En Yoe, por favor," (fill it up with red(premium)), I request.
And when he fills it up, I realized that the tank was basically empty. So that's why I had to switch to reserve, because it was out of gas. I ponder that for a minute. How could it have been out of gas when I only drove from Cabo San Lucas to La Paz. Then, I remember that the distance was approx 140 miles so, yeah, that would do it. I got so used to driving the bike 400 miles a day that I totally forgot that it wasn't a magic flying carpet and actually needed fuel occasionally. So, OK. Maybe the bike is fine after all.

Also, I think about the distance traveled on the bike odometer vs the GPS. Really, I don't think that putting a new rear tire on should have affected my odometer reading one iota. I'm pretty sure that the odometer comes off the front wheel, so what the rear wheel is doing really shouldn't matter.

I drive to the edge of town and find the last Pemex on the North side of La Paz. This was the one I coasted to on fumes coming into town. That sort of sticks with you and I recognize it and pull in and tell him to fill it up to the very rim this time. Like, I want to see gas splashing out of the fuel cap vents when I hit a bump. Don't be stingy here.

En el desertio, gasolina es muy importanta.

So I head out of La Paz and I'm not going crazy speeds. Of course, I don't know how fast I'm going because there's no speedometer or anything, as I've mentioned before. But I'm driving along and I pass where Igor got stopped by the local policia and I'm kind of bummed. Kind of sad that he's not here riding with me any more. He was a cool guy to be on the road with, even though it was only for a couple of days.

I come to the first military checkpoint and Patricia had warned me that going north would be different than coming south. The drugs are flowing north. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out. They're not flowing south. So, they waived me through when I was going south. But now that I'm going north, things may be different.

When I pull up, there's a line of about 5 cars, but 4 motorcycles at the front of the line, so I just sort of roll on up around the waiting cars and join the motorcycles. I get away with it, but you have to keep in mind. These guys are not screwing around. They have machine guns and little red flags. You obey the little red flags they're waiving, or you get the other. No joke.

They're in fatigues, behind positions fortified with sand bags. There's a war going on and for a few minutes, you're on the front lines.

They figure out that I'm not with the other 4, who are on big touring bikes with saddle bags that must be searched, and waive me on through.

I try to be more careful in Villa Morelos, but the town really does have a lot of intersections though, and I just can't bring myself to stop for them. Honestly, I've tried. But I just can't do it. I slow down for them. I even stop for the stoplights, usually. But never for long. Just enough to make sure it's clear and I don't see any policia, then I go.

Basically, I drive and drive without stopping for anything but fuel for about 4 or 5 hours. And eventually I refueled in La Paz, Villa Morelos, Loreto, and finally in Muelege.

I come to another military checkpoint somewhere along the line and this time, I try to drive to the front of the line and the man with the little red flag waves it for me to stop and I do. But, I'm sort of in the wrong lane, because I just can't stand to take orders from people, so I'm thinking I'll just roll a little further to straighten up the bike a bit and get in the line properly and he starts waving the flag again and I turn around and there's a guy behind me standing up in a Humvee in full fatigues with helmet. He has a .30 cal machine gun on a turret pointed directly at me. There is a belt of ammo going into the machine gun and his finger is on the trigger. I stop.

I wait for my turn, and for the first time on the trip, they search me. But I don't give them any difficulty. This isn't like I feel violated because of my 4th amendment rights. I'm in their country. I have no idea what their laws are. I'm just playing along. Plus, with the machine gun and all, they clearly hold all the cards at this point. That gun would cut me and the bike to pieces in seconds.

They ask me to open my backpacks and my jacket, which I do. Then they wave me on and I'm rolling again.

In any event, so I'm heading North along the coast and after I've driven for about 4 or 5 hours and feel like I'll never be able to walk or stand again in my life, and I'm hot and sweaty and tired, I start getting closer to Mulege, my ultimate destination for the day, and there's still about an hour or so of daylight and I'm within about 20 kilometers of my destination when I pass a public beach called Playa Coyote.

Playa Coyote is spectacular. Makes you want to lock up the brakes and drive in from the highway. Palm trees. Sandy beach. Flat calm waters. Islands everywhere. Pelicans. Seagulls. You get the picture.

For the record, however, for those of you playing the home game, the prettiest place I have seen on the whole trip, hands down, are and around the towns of Loreto and Muelege. And you can fly into Loreto.

These towns are located on dream-like bays on the Sea of Cortez,. The water is unbelievably calm, like glass at times. There are loads of public beaches open to whatever your mind can dream up. Driving. Camping. Swimming. Want to build a camp fire and let your dog run lose and ride a wheelie down the beach, you've come to the right place.

Many open public playas. No Ranger Rick to pay a fee to. And the most spectacular scenery you've ever seen. As nice as anything you'd find anywhere in the world, I'd argue.

I pull over to a little roadside store and some boy comes in and starts fingering all the empenadas and he picks on out and paws at it until his father gives him the official OK. So, I grab out a comple of empenadas, one apple and one papaya and get a big Gatorade, and then drive onto the Playa with my dirt bike. No need to ask permission. No forms to fill out. No need to show id. No lectures about when the park closes. You just go..

I change on the beach by a bush into a swimsuit and I even have my snorkel and mask, though this is the first time I've had a chance to use it.

I start walking to the beach and I manage to step on a small cactus, but it's just a piece of one, and it didn't' hurt all that bad, but I had to remove it of course. So, eventually I got down to the beach with my snorkel and mask and the water on the surface is very warm, and much more salty than even the pacific, for whatever reason. At least it seems so. Maybe I just don't get to the beach enough.

And I start swimming around and the bottom is covered with coral and clams and scallops. Very pretty. Not a huge reef like I've seen in some places, but no shortage of coral either. I come up and look around. In the whole bay, as far I as can see, for miles in all directions, there are probably 12 people on the beach.

I see something underwater that I take to be a sea urchin. I go to crush it like my brother taught me, but when I touch it, it disappears. It wasn't a sea urchin at all. I have no clue what it was, but it went into a hole when I touched it. Like it retracted in about a tenth of a second.

I swam fairly far out, and then, at the bottom, it was freezing cold. Like, about four feet under water, the temperature drops dramatically and it felt great. So, I'd swim down about six feet and hold my breath and just lie there on the bottom, clinging to the massive scallops that grow on the bottom of the Sea of Cortez. They'd close up when you touch them, but they didn't bite or anything.

Now, the water is not as clear as some places I've been. It's not as clear as the Bahamas, or even Hawaii. It's more like the gulf coast of Florida. Like, you can wear a mask and snorkel, but it's not just crystal clear.

A giant puffer fish comes by and I follow him in to the shore, as the sun is setting and I decide to go on into Mulege.

In Mulege, I find the same hotel I stayed at last time. Igor would have camped on the beach, but I don't have a tent, plus I can't live without internet access, so there's that. Igor and I are on a somewhat different plan, I guess.

I see the lady that owns the hotel and I call her by her name and she recognizes me and gives me the same rate she gave me last time, which is $30 a night, which isn't bad for a room with an A/C, television, and wireless internet. I don't think you'd find this in the U.S.

She puts me in the same room, and I check in and set all my gear on Igor's bed, because I'd feel weird sleeping in Igor's bed, I think.

I wander around the town looking for something to eat and I find a little ice cream store I spied driving in and I just walk in and say "que es bueno?" but she just smiles. "Todomente"

So I pick out what looks like a watermelon heart popsicle and she calls it a Palete Sandia and let me tell you it tastes like you're eating a frozen watermelon heart on a stick and in Baja California Sur in October, it is the best thing on earth. (For those playing the home game, the 2nd runner-up at this point is the "Dulce de Cacahuate" named the "de la Rosa" It says the ingredients are "sugar, peanuts, and artificial flavor." But what more do you need, really?

I wander back to the hotel and I'm sitting outside typing on my computer when the lady we talked to last time appears with her dog. She lives in the hotel because a hurricane destroyed her house. It was insured by ING, or AXA (sic), but they went belly up so now you're insuring her. ;)

Her house was completely destroyed by a hurricane. As in collapsed and fell in, and Mulege has been hit 3 years in a row by hurricanes now, she tells me.

Then, she looks across the table at me and says this...."have you heard about Hurricane Rick?"

"No? What's Hurricane Rick?"

"It's a category 5 hurricane and it's headed right for us."

And I go out on the internet and sure enough...there's the well defined eye of a Cat 5 storm bearing down on us in a big way. At 14 miles an hour with 160 mph winds. Now, 14 miles an hour doesn't sound very fast, but if you're going to try to outrun it, you have to take into account the fact that it doesn't sleep at night.

At 14 mph, it will go 324 miles in 24 hours.

I start thinking about what this means. A Cat 5 hurricane his bearing down on Cabo. That means everyone with a brain is going to be on Mexico 1 headed north starting tomorrow. That means, no gas at the gas stations. No water for sale along the way. A full scale disaster. I need to evacuate from this place right away. But there's a wrinkle. I can't drive in the dark.

Why? A) it's not safe b) my headlight isn't very bright (it's stock) and c) the headlight is set for coon hunting, not driving. So, I'm not going to be able to get moving until daylight. When I start moving North, I expect there to be long lines at the Pemex stations, and also at the military check points. And, it's not like they're going to throw open the military check points. Those dudes don't care if you die on a hurricane. That guy that's manning the .30 cal just wants to shoot someone. That's all he knows. He's waiting for that one dirt bike to cut and run so he can start spraying a river of lead like he trained to.

So I'm going around town, starting to surreptitiously buy up as much water as I can, figuring that I can trade water for gasolina in the desert.

Then, I start asking some people in the lobby where the last open Pemex station is before the salida para Bahia Los Angeles. And they tell me and I'm trying to figure out what tomorrow will be like. Hell on earth, no doubt. Rain will suck. Wind will suck. I'm envisioning a slow and painful march north through a rare October hurricane in Baja.
Then, I ask them where they're going and they say "Mexicali" and I'm like...you don't have a truck do you?"

"Yes."

"Could you give me a ride?" I ask.

"Yes. But of course. You have tie downs?"

"I do. I have two." Like this was one of the things I've been carrying around Cabo in the black backpack. No spare tube. No air put. But two tie downs. Just in case I found myself in this position. I wanted to be able to say "load me up".

"We can take you as far as Ensenada. What is your room number?"

"Diez y seis"

"We're leaving at 4 in the morning. See you in the parking lot."