Baja Trip day 11 and 12

Day 11

We woke up in Ensenada well rested. A hard day's ride the previous day had us pretty low-key for our last night in Mexico and we hit the beds early and got a good night's sleep.

We took care of a few things we needed to do. I made a service reservation at the BMW Motorcycle dealer in San Diego and was very pleased when they agreed to store our bikes for a couple of months very affordably. We plan on returning around then and completing our trip home (or, who knows where).

The trip from Ensenada was uneventful and allowed a little time to reflect. This has been a fantastic adventure that many people can only casually dream about. It, first of all, wouldn't have been possible without the loving support of our wives. From both of us, thank you, love you and missed you.

You see a number on a map that says how far it is to where you want to go. A thousand and something to Cabo. Piece of cake! You don't really realize how far that is until you experience each of those miles. I think a motorcycle provides a very close coupling between your experience and those miles. That gives you memories that a car window can never provide. This has been very outside of the box for both of us to venture out on something this haphazard and adventurous, but what a cool trip. Would I do it again? Yes, but first I'd need a little time for the “romance” in the thought to return and the thoughts of the road wariness to dissipate.

We're approaching Tijuana. Ah, 50 feet after the sign that says “San Diego” and shows that familiar I-5 badge, is the exit. We, of course are two lanes over. Off we go on another “event”! Tijuana is one of the most chaotic places I have ever been to. We exited the highway and dropped into town to see if we could get back on the roadway and catch that exit. Not possible. Though we notice that the highway seems to continue north so it can only run into the U.S. Back on we go.

It's all kind of a blur after that. Peter and I end up in a line that looks like we'll be there forever. Somehow, we get separated. Peter is up ahead a few places and I loose sight of him. A little while later, a guy comes back to me and says he showed my buddy how to get through the line faster and my buddy send him back to show me too. All it would cost me is a few pesos for a soda. He shows be a gap in the barrier that separates another lane that is moving along fast. I go through, don't have a change to reach into my pocket for pesos so what the hell, I take off. Up a short distance, the road “Y's” into a couple of choices with undecipherable signs above each. Just as I approach the seemingly obvious route choice, a guard places a barricade across it. I am forced to make another loop through a different part of town and I get lost. I did have the luck to meet the Mexican Danny Devito while trying to ask directions however. Couldn't understand what he was saying but he sure was excited! An associate of his did finally help me with directions. A police officer even tried to help me at one point. He had me follow him for a bit then he stopped and gave me the remaining directions on how go get to the border. I immediately went the wrong way...

Just as I was about to give up and go back to the simplicity of Ensenada, I found my way. Peter had managed to arrive at customs and crossed far ahead of me. I finally made it back into the U.S. and found Peter resting along the freeway shoulder.

The GPS suddenly sprang to life as I crossed. It now offered all sorts of information and maps of roads both major and minor. It sure would have been handy in Tijuana!

It was an easy matter to find the BMW motorcycle dealer in San Diego using the GPS. Both bikes were dropped off there and arrangements were made for mine to be repaired. Dirty, smelly clothes and belongings were gathered and a cab was hailed. Off to the airport we go.

We had no idea of what flights might be available but my phone did show that there are a few airlines heading in our desired direction. First stop at the Alaska counter we met Sara. An english accented employee who said that indeed, there were two seats available on the last flight to Seattle of the day. One seat was available from there to Bellingham. That could work! Peter could continue on to Bellingham and I could return home to Seattle and retrieve my car later. Book it!

As Peter's paperwork was being completed, Sara commented with an “oh dear!”. (It kind if reminded me of the housekeeper on Fraser.) The other available seat had been sold. After scouring the airport, looking for any other airline headed north, it looks like I'm spending the night in San Diego...

Peter decided to cancel his flight for that evening and return with me the following morning. What a bud! While purchasing tickets for the following day's flight we are again presented with the fact that spontaneous travel is not the most economical way to go. I begin thinking that it wouldn't, or couldn't cost too much more to book a round trip. After all, we do need to get back down here to recover our stored bikes before they are sold as abandoned. Sure enough. It costs almost nothing to set the groundwork for the next phase of our adventure. September 15, 2011. A Thursday.

We booked a room at a hotel close to the airport. Getting to the hotel was a little interesting too.

There was an abandoned luggage cart that we borrowed for our search for flights. We can see our hotel destination from the airport, now how to get there? Peter starts pushing the cart in that general direction. As the crow flies, it looks to be an easy walk. The actual route however is not as obvious. He is determined to walk there and off he goes. I decide he's been in the sun too long and I go back to grab a cab. I hop in a cab and tell the driver where I'd like to go. He gives me a curious look and asks why I don't take the free hotel shuttle? Okay, sounds good. Back out of the cab and I stand at the island and wait for a shuttle. Peter texts me asking where I am because he's waiting for me in the lobby. Guess not too much sun after all!

A couple slices of pizza in the Little Italy district, a couple of beers and a glass of wine and we head back to our room for the night.

Day 12

We're up at what seems way too early so we can catch the 4:45 AM, first shuttle to the airport. On the plane and headed back to where we started.   2392 miles on the bikes trip odometers.

Going to have to be careful what I say in a bar from now on....or maybe not.

Happy Trails!