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November 17, 2017
Day 5 - San Diego, CA to Camalu, Baja California (Norte), Mexico
I am alive and well and resting in the Hotel California in Camalu, BC, Mexico.
Starting Odometer: 6,025
Ending Odometer: 6,201
Distance Traveled Today: 176 miles
Distance Traveled This Trip: 1,598 miles [6,201 - 4,603]
OK. So, I didn't have a big day in terms of mileage, I'll admit that. Right? I can't deny that. But is the whole trip really about mileage? Really?
OK. So, where to begin?
This morning, I get up, and while I'm taking a shower, I pull the bathroom door closed, and then it won't open. Like...I'm in this shittly little no-tell motel in San Diego, and the freaking door-knob does nothing. And, I can't get out of the bathroom. And I don't have me cell phone. I'm royally screwed. I could be in here for days. Years. Fuck. This is going to suck.
I fiddle with the door knob, and, eventually, it opens. I have never seen this in my life. They should be sued for zillions. Christ.
So I get out of there, and check out of the hotel. Gas up at the first gas station. Now, the only thing I need is insurance. So I stop at the Instant Mexico Auto Insurance place. Just about the last U.S. exit. They'll right me a policy for 2 weeks, without legal coverage, for $150 for two weeks. I'm like...good enough. Let's go.
So they write me a policy and hand it to me. I hop back on the interstate and head across the border.
As I get to the border crossing, I turn to the night to look for Immigracion/Aduana, and some guy comes after me. He's got a machine gun, and he's telling me that I need to go through the light.
So, I apologize, and I pull up and go through the light. THe light is green, which means go, so I roll forward, and they motion for me to pull forward into secondary screening. Like, I'm so stupid I've screwed up the simplest border crossing on planet earth, and now I'm about to get a body cavity search from Juan.
I explain to them that I need to get my FMM Mexican Tourist Card/VISA stamped. The guy tells me, in perfect English, to pull forward and park up ahead, and then to go into that big building over there.
So I do, and then I walk into this large building. There's not a lot of people in it, mind you. And they're all sort of bored and disinterested in my presence. Finally, I find a guy that's willing to process my paperwork. He takes it, stamps it. Stamps my passport, and in about 2 minutes, I'm walking out of the building. Completely legal.
This is odd because, I'm reasonably certain that I've never ridden my bike into Mexico legally before today. It's a peculiar feeling.
Also, it's kind of fun. Like an adrenaline rush, to be crossing into another country, with guards waving machine guns at you. I'm not clear what part of my body needs this, but now I'm drowing in adrenaline, as I'm rolling through Tijuana, trying very carefully not to screw up following the road to Mexico 1D. I've been this route many times, but my success rate for following the correct road isn't good, and it's well marked.
There's 3 jackasses on Harleys. Like...Harley rides need more attention than a teenage girl, and they ride down the road, racking their throttles with their absurdly loud pipes. "Look at me. Look at me." Go fuck yourself, faggot homo harley riders with loud exausts. WTF? Seriously?
So I let the loud fucks pass me, and they all rack their throttles as they do. Faggots.
Now, we're at the Mexico 1D toll road, and they're so fucking stupid they can't figure it out. I hand the guy a dollar and he waves me through.
"Mucho frio, amigo," I whine. "Por que?"
"Es Novembrio," he replies. Like, this surprises me. I've never been down here that it's been this cold, and I've been down here several times. But I guess this is later in the year. But it's cool.
So now, I'm rolling south on Mexico 1D, and it feels so good to be in Mexico again. So happy to be down here. Now, I know....most of you don't "get" mexico. I understand. But to me, it's awlays been about having an adventure off of the beaten path. And Mexico is perfect for that.
In about 20 miles, I'm in Rosarito, so I exit, but I always exit too soon, and on the North end of Rosarito, there's not a bunch of places where you can get down the beach. I roll further south, more into downtown Rosarito, and then cut down to the beach. Sure enough, they're serving drinks and meals on the beach. Renting horses. Donkeys. Ponies. Riding ATV's. This is the Rosarito that I remember.
I ride my bike down to the beach, park it, and then walk to a table with all of my gear. Sit down at the table, and now they're bringing me CocaCola Light and shrimp cocktail. This is the life. It's hard to imagine how it could get much better.
They're playing american music over the radio. A bunch of oldes from the 70''s. And these Mexican bands are walking around offering to play for me, but I really don't want them to mess up the songs on the radio. So I shoo them off.
After my shrimp cocktail, I decide to ride on, so now I'm rolling south again. At Ensenada, the tollway ends, and I recognize the southern end of the tollway. I remember this place.
But I'm still rolling south. I stop to refuel in Ensenada. This is my plan. I'm not going to run out of gas in the desert this time. That's not going to happen this time.
South of Ensenada, the road goes inland. At first, mostly desert, but then, as I ride on, it gets greener, and now there are some irrigated fields. I don't really recall this part as much. And it's not like it's been that long since I was last year. I was down here last summer.
But the Baja is beautiful, in it's own way. I really like coming down here.
I'm passing through these little worn-out towns, and I then I come to a little road-side shanty in Punta Colonet with 3 adventure bikes out front, all loaded with gear.
I quickly pull in and park.
They all start fawning all over my bike, and I'm talking to them as best I can. They're Mexicans, from the mainland, up here on a motorcycle adventure to see the Baja Mil race.
I sit down and eat lunch with them at this little taco stand. I got two tacos, and a cocacola light for $50 (pesos). (Roughly equal to 3 dollars.) I'm thinking....that can't be right. But that's what they charged me.
"Which way are y'all headed?" I ask.
They're heading south, the same as me. So, we talk for a bit. I'd really like to ride with them, but they're going off to ride up some mountain, where you can see both sides of the peninsula, apparently.
I'm not really keen on going offroad, and when I ask them how far they'll be riding offroad, he says it's about 2 hours. And I'm like....I'm out.
I'm heading south. I'll see y'all on the road.
We're both going to catch the ferry in La Paz, though no one is really sure what day they'll end up there.
So, we part ways, and I hop back onto Mexico 1 heading south.
My plan is to drive to El Rosario, but the sun is setting. I spent a lot of time just hanging out and talking to those guys, hoping that we would ride together, but ti didn't really work out. And now, I'm running late and I don't like riding in the dark and, as I'm rolling south, I see this sea of headlights coming at me.
The Baja Mil has just wrapped up, and now all I see is a sea of headlights coming north. All of the cars are coming north, and I have an epiphany. If there are tons of poeple comin g north from BCS, then they're going to take up all of the hotel rooms and, when I roll into El Rosario, they're going to be like, "I'm sorry but we're all booked up" and how screwed will I be then. I decide to call an audible. It's about dusk. I see a sign that says "Hotel", and I turn in.
"Y'all have a room for me?"
"Si"
"Quanto es?"
She scratches out on a notepad that it's $350 (pesos). But I'm so tired, I can't even do the math. Like...it's not like I rode very far today, but I'm still wiped out. Traveling through foreign lands on an adventure bike is not easy.
"Quanto es in US dollars?" I ask her.
"$21.00" she writes on the paper.
"Done. I'll take it."
Like, it's a little more than I was hoping to spend, but sure. I'm in. I'm all in.
This gets me off the road, and now I can crash for the night and get up and try again tomorrow.
"What is the name of this town? Como se llama esta ciudad?" I ask.
"Camalu," she replies.
I've never even heard of the place before, but apparently, I'm just north of Vicente Guerrero.
I roll through town to try to find a restaurant or a bar, but there's nothing really that rises to that level. It's just little sheds on the side of the road where they're offering food to people, as one might feed a stray dog behind a shed. So, I buy a large Tecate and take it back to my room.
Today, I didn't ride far enough. So, that means that I'll really have to push it tomorrow to make it to Mulege.
Looks like about 416 miles. Ugh.
Refueling Points for Tomorrow:
1) El Rosario, BC(N) - 62 miles
2) Catavina, BC - People selling gas on the side of the highway. 76 miles (138 total)
3) Exit to Bahia Los Angeles, BC(N). Dude selling gas out of a 55 gallon drum in the back of a pickup. 64 miles (202 total)
4) Guerro Negro, BC, Mexico. Open Pemex station. 93 miles. (295 total).
5) Mulege. 137 miles. (416 miles totla)
Posted by Rob Kiser on November 17, 2017 at 6:29 PM
Comments
That is one big advantage of traveling solo. No agenda, no unmet expectations, no one to please but yourself. Vaya con Dios, amigo.
Posted by: Steven A Baldwin on November 17, 2017 at 6:50 PM
Agreed, Steve. It works out OK. I've got a long ride today. 450 miles to Mulege, I think. Crossing the Punta Prieta desert solo. Doh!
Posted by: Rob Kiser on November 18, 2017 at 8:36 AM
I agree with Steve, just know that we don’t want to read about you pleasing yourself ;P
Posted by: Mac on November 18, 2017 at 12:11 PM