Published on

9/4/11 9:53 AM

Pacific Standard Time

Birch Bay Bikes Part Deux

As you may recall, in our last exciting episode, Peter and Ken buy motorcycles in Los Angeles. Learn to ride and proceed to explore the far reaches of Baja California (Mexico). Part Deux of this adventure has us pointed in the other direction.

Our bikes are currently waiting for us at BMW Motorcycles of San Diego. There, my bike underwent the repair of a brake fluid leak as well as a number of other items that the dealer suggested I add to the repair order, in order to increase the grand total of the bill.

We will be arriving sometime in the early afternoon on Monday, September 5^th, to retrieve our rides and begin our journey,mostly north. Our planned route will take us up California Highway 395, over the Sierra Nevada's to drop into Death Valley, back up and over the mountain range and off for a few days in Reno. From there as should be heading over to the Pacific coast and finally up through Oregon and back up to the bay. The entire trip should take a couple of weeks, plus or minus...

Highway 395 is rich with history dating back to the 1849 California Gold Rush. The scenery of the route is supposed to be spectacular as well. We will learn and see as much as time allows and share as much as we can.

Part Uno of our bike journey can be found at: http://birchbaybikes.blogspot.com

Baja Trip Pictures

You can find the photos we took at: http://www.sparerib.net/pix/baja/index.html


Part Deux of our journey can be found here: http://birchbaybikes2.blogspot.com
Birch Bay Bikes Sierra Nevada

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!

Baja Trip Day 10 (Diez)

This morning, early, we packed up and hit the road. Our goal was to be back in Ensenada this evening. According to some other travelers that had just come from there, it is about a 10 hour trip. Long day but nothing we haven't already done. Off we go!

The weather is cool in the mornings and that makes those first couple to 300 miles easier than the blazing deserts in the afternoon. We start our in shorts and shirts I had my jacket on. A little chilly at speed, early in the day but the temperature climbs rapidly. We stopped for liquid (okay, I had a taco too) a few hours in and a store owner said to me that I made her laugh because I'm wearing shorts and a sweater. Peter explains to her that it is just that I am loco!

From Mulege we head up through the last few towns that Highway 1 passes through before beginning our crossing across Baja back to the Pacific side. We're looking forward to the cooler temperatures off of the Pacific.

The temperature climbs as we leave the coastline and begin our inland crossing. When it reaches what must have been about 112 degrees (f), we stop so I can stow my jacket.

At the top of the mountain range that separates the coasts, the wind hits us. It is very strong and gusty which makes travel difficult. You are constantly getting blown around in the lane and oncoming semi-trucks can pack some tremendous wind buffet as they pass by. This slows us down but we press onwards.

Finally back on the Pacific coast, it is quite cold to us. We stop for fuel and to put long pants and jackets on. Ensenada to Guerrero Negro was a long trip coming down and it looks to be about the same in the other direction...

We pass through a few small towns that we didn't really recognize from before. It could be because they are all teaming with people and cars and families doing whatever they do on a Sunday. Families are very close and important here. Life is simple but very hard and everyone in the family contributes towards life's goals. It's nice.

We finally arrive in Ensenada and luckily Peter remembers the way back to the hotel we stayed at before. As we pull into the hotel's driveway, the proprietor recognizes us and shows us to our same parking spaces. We have an “amigo” at the hotel now and we chat like old friends. Nice.

The trip odometer reads 2293. That means we burned up 547 miles of pavement, dirt and gravel and sand roadways. It took about 11-1/2 hours and every part of my body knows it.

An easy night and California is our destination for Monday.

Baja Trip Day 9

This evening, we are in Mulege, Baja Sur, Mexico. This town is the little Oasis I mentioned in an earlier post. By the time we got here, we were too tired to go out and explore our surroundings. I'll try to get some pictures posted of the town later on.

About 10 hours of seat time and do our behinds know it! 1742 miles traveled so far After a night in Cabo, we decided to start our journey North. To be honest, this wasn't our first choice.

Our first choice turned out to be a hugh “event”. While still in La Paz, Peter and I had decided we had seen about enough small and big Mexican towns. Although this entire trip has been fantastic, I think the relentless heat was starting to get to us. After sufficient quantities of alcohol we had decided that 70 degrees sounded pretty “damn” good.

From La Paz, we had a few options. During our sight seeing efforts in town, we did manage to find the ferry terminal. Two different ferry's leave this location. One to Mazatlan and the other to Topolobampo. From Topolobampo, a train is a short distance away that travels through the Copper Canyon to Chihuahua. From there, it is a fairly short distance to El Paso, TX and Las Cruces, NM. (USA!) The train trip is supposed to be spectular and we were told that the train can haul cars, motorhomes and motorcycles! What a sweet way to not have to double back on the same roads we had already traveled.. Additionally, we could be close to the U.S. Border with less cruising time than would otherwise be necessary.

The next morning (Friday), Peter and I set out to make the necessary arrangements. I first get on the phone and manage to make reservations on the ferry for us and our motorcycles. No problem. We had heard that is was necessary to acquire some sort of permit for “touring gringo's” to take motor vehicles to mainland Mexico. According to all of the authorities and people in the know, they didn't know much about it. They did suggest that we check at the ferry terminal and it should be no problem. Sounds good. The lady that I exchanged butchered Spanish to her butchered English with, while making reservations, said that we should be at the ferry terminal at 12:00 for the 2:00 final boarding and 2:30 sailing. No problem.

Peter and I arrive at the ferry terminal at 11:30 just in case there is a line up to get this permit that no one really knows much about. We find the place that sells these and wait for our turn. Up to the window we go. We had previously grabbed our motorcycle registration, proof of Mexican insurance and of course we had our passports. We should be good.

The very pleasant young lady at the window accepts our documents as we “try” to explain why we are here and what we think we need, to accomplish what we have planned. She seems to understand and agree that we do indeed need this permit. After careful and approving examination she asks where are our travel visa's? Que? What visa's, we ask. She explains that they are the visa's that were issued to us when we entered Mexico. We explain to her, that it when we crossed the border in Tijuana, we were lucky enough to receive a “green light” and men with guns told us to move along. Which is what we did. She gives a knowing nod and explains that it doesn't matter, we need the travel visa's.

You know that sinking feeling you sometimes get. It occurs when something doesn't meet expectations that you had high hopes for... Peter and I are far more optimistic than that! We ask how we go about getting the travel visa's. She explains that there is an immigration office, just upstairs from where we are. She is even willing to go up there for us and inquire about us acquiring the necessary visa. We follow her up.

It seems that the immigration official that normally, periodically, staffs this space has left for the day. Heck, why not. It's hot out. It's 12:00 by now. And, his space is only cooled my a small fan. Hardly sufficient for an official of such stature!

Alas, all is not lost. There is an immigration office in La Paz that is always staffed during business hours. It's only 20 minutes away.

Off we dash to solve our visa dilemma. Once we finally find the immigration office and park illegally, Peter dashes in and grabs a number for better service.

Time is ticking away but it could still happen. It's finally our turn. We dash up to the window and explain why we are here. We tell the clerk about the green light and men with guns telling us to move along. She takes our information and starts typing on the computer.

Time is ticking away but it could still happen.

Before way too long, she prints out two forms for each of us. She then proceeds to inform us that there is a fine involved for us not getting the permits in the first place. Troupers that we are, we are determined that what ever it takes. Out come our wallets. “How much?”, we ask. Oh, it's about $126 US, each but we can't pay it here. We have to go to a bank. It doesn't matter which bank, apparently; all of them are equipped to accept our money.

“Where is the nearest bank?”, we ask. “About 4 blocks”, she replies in a non specific manner.

We hop on our bikes and dash off in whatever direction we were already pointed. A few minutes later, we find a bank. We park illegally and dash into the bank.

The place is full of people; waiting. Seemingly, their second home. Above each teller's window is a sign written in a foreign language. Unsure as to how to proceed, we start asking official looking people. We discover that we first need to have a “number”. Ah, there is a bunch of people getting numbers, over there! We find that there are several options for numbers based, seemingly, on what sort of transaction you require. All of those options are written in a foreign language on the dispensing machine.

We each finally manage to get to a teller window and each is willing to accept our money. We are issued receipts for each of the fines on each of the two pieces of paper. These serve as proof that we regret disobeying the armed border guards in Tijuana.

Time is ticking away but it could still happen. It is starting to get uncomfortably close however.

Back to the immigration office! Parked illegally again, we dash inside; paperwork in hand. The place is remarkably empty compared to earlier. New customer service numbers have us at the window in short order. Proudly, we display our completed forms. We are informed that the Federal Computer System, that is required so one additional form can be printed for each of us, showing that we have met the obligations thus far, is down, kaput, not functioning. There is apparently not another way to create this form. No way! Manual methods that probably used to exist are not even an option.

Things aren't looking too bright for our immediate travel plans. It seems that we will have to wait until Monday. They expect the Federal Computer System “should” be fixed by then and people that require Visa's can once again enter and leave Mexico.

Somewhere along the way, we also learned that the train that can supposedly carry all of those vehicles and passengers, only carries passengers, at lease during the off-tourist season.

Oh well, off to Cabo!

Now on our return trip, we will probably burn plenty of miles each day.

Baja Trip Day 8

Today we traveled from La Paz to Cabo San Lucas. A fairly short distance of around 200km. That puts us at a little over 1300 miles traveled so far. The road is better, in most places, than almost any of the other roads so far. We did hit some some construction however. Easily 10 miles or so.

At least in Baja, when road work takes place, it seems rather major. Sections of roadway are closed, torn up and repaired without much consideration for the traveler, be it commercial vehicle, car, truck or, of course, motorcycle. A dirt or gravel path is dozed next to the section of roadway being worked on and vehicles must use this to bypass the construction. Well, it's hot and dusty and the loose material you are riding on can be a real challenge at times. Peter and I have each been stuck in some of the loose, graded dirt. Today's construction wasn't too bad but it sure can slow you down.

Our first stop was in Todos Santos to have a beer in what is supposed to be the “Hotel California” sung about in the Eagles song. Cute little town. Not spoiled by a lot of tourist stuff and not really typically “Mexican looking”.

After the short break we head on to Cabo. Wow, has this place grown! It is unrecognizable from the first I was here, 4 years ago. We did find a nice little hotel to stay at. After checking we took a walk around and had a heck of a time even trying to access the beach. Shopping malls, shops, villas and resorts line the waterfront and make access hard to find. The marina seems to a at least tripled in size from what I remember.

Dinner was at an off-the-beaten-path Argentinean steak house that was recommended to us. Excellent food!

Baja Trip Day 6 & 7

Day 6

Today was an easy day. We spent most of it looking around La Paz on motorcycle and on foot. Quite a nice town. You need to be careful when traveling around town and the surrounding area. At one point we did get stuck at a Sand Bar.

One of our missions today was to find a guided fishing trip We scoured the town and finally ran into Hector. He's a talker. A good salesperson too. Before we knew it, we were all signed up for a fishing trip the following day. We also met his sidekick, Poncho. Poncho speaks pretty good english that he learned while working in the U.S, until immigration changed his address. Hector explained that Poncho loved to speak english to americans and wondered if it it would be okay if Poncho tagged along to help out if any translation was necessary. Sounded like a good plan.

Dinner was a few beers, a few tequilas and a couple of margaritas along with some fresh made Chili Poppers.

We needed to run to the store, just a couple of doors away, to pick up beer for the next day's activities. Beer, apparently, isn't sold until 9:00 in the morning and we would be long gone by then. The store, being a 24 hour facility, would be open in the morning so we could pick up ice, water, food and what not, necessary for our trip. At 10:30, we leave the restaurant and head over to the store to buy the beer. No one mentioned to us, that they stop selling beer at 10:00 in the evening! What to do...?

We had become friendly with the guy at the restaurant, Xavier, who was bartending and hailing customers in off of the street (since we had fallen prey to his tactics earlier). Back to the restaurant we go and express our desperation to our “buddy”. A couple more tequilas, and he comes up with solution! He will sell us the beer we need, at a small but “has us over a barrel” profit. Give us a cooler for a not quite so small deposit; and make our trip the experience we had been anticipating. Perfect!

Day 7

Up and all ready for fishing at about 6:15 AM. I dash off to the store, while Peter lugs the heavy metal Corona cooler, fully laden with beer, across the street to the water's edge.

The store, being a 24 hour store, locks it's doors at night to prevent robberies and such. Okay. They do have a small window in one of the doors, that allows you to communicate with the clerk and make the necessary transactions. Okay. My spanish has allowed us to stumble our was through Baja thus far but now it was being put to a test. What are the words for 2-coffees, a bag of ice, some sandwiches, miscellaneous snacks and a couple of large waters? Hell, I don't know either! Using the translator app. on my phone as fluently as possible, I finally manage to get 2-coffees, a bag of ice and a couple of sandwiches. I forgot about the water and I gave up on the snacks.

Off across the street I go to meet Peter.

The gang, Hector and Poncho, shows up the there is a fishing boat idling just off shore in the low tide. We'll have to use the pier to get on board. Hector knows a short-cut. Under the pier we go, ducking to avoid all of the concrete structure. We then climb up onto some of this structure to finally arrive at the walk way. Still hauling the cooler full of beer, hot coffees, sandwiches and ice, while climbing, Poncho decides to help me by dumping my hot coffee on me. This lightens the load considerably and makes access to the walk way a breeze.

Hector collects our money, we hop on the boat. Peter, myself, Poncho and our guide and captain Raul Martinez Castro a.k.a. Chito, are off on our adventure!

A short ways out but still in the harbor area, Chito sets up a couple of fishing poles with multiple hooks rigs with a weight at the bottom and we start fishing for our bait. Mackrel in this case. This is a little bit fun but our goal was larger varieties of fish. We finally have a few in the bait well and we head out. 

Poncho cracks open a beer.

Our next stop is along side a small local fisherman's boat 15-20 minutes down the shoreline. This boat is carrying two locals with fishing nets and a live well full of sardines. It seems we were expected to pay these two and additional 200 pesos for all of the sardines we need. Since we paid Hector handsomely, and there was no mention of paying for bait in addition to the fishing trip, we decline and Poncho actually helps us in convincing Chito to take it up with Hector, later. 

Poncho cracks open a beer.

The boat now fully loaded with all of the bait we need, Chito gives some of our mackrel to another guide boat. Did we upset matters by not paying for the sardines? Off to the fishing grounds we go! 

Poncho cracks open a beer.

A while later we reach the fishing grounds. Three poles are rigged with some huge colorful squid jigs and we start trolling at a pretty good clip. 

Poncho cracks open a beer.

It wasn't too much later, while Peter and I are kidding each other about who's better at the art of having someone else rig poles for us, bait our hooks and take us to the promised fishing land so a fish can jump onto the hook owned by the captain/boat, that Peter's fishing pole doubles over and suddenly it's game on!

About 15 minutes of a gigantic tug of war, through shear relentless determination, Peter lands a 6 foot Marlin! Big fish! There is no denying Peter is the lucky, highly skilled, bugger of the day.

Poncho cracks open a beer. In fact, Peter and I crack open a beer and Peter's efforts are fully christened. We aren't sure of the weight of the boated trophy, but it's big.

Lines back in the water, off we go at about the same trolling speed.

Poncho cracks open a beer.

Not all that much longer, Poncho cracks open a beer. About the same time my pole develops a similar arc to that of Peters hard fought meal in waiting. This time I'm fighting a sailfish! A scrappy rascal he is. My forearms screaming, the fish is finally boated. 6 and about ½ feet of sleek water breathing missile. Not as big a girth of the marlin but a fighter just the same.

Poncho cracks open a beer.

As Chito changes our lures to live bait and slows the troll down considerably, we notice that Poncho hasn't been attempting to be helpful in the same manner that was never of any real benefit in the first place. His unsuccessful attempts are even more so now. In addition, his never ending terrible “songs” and relentless babble are even more difficult to try to understand or ignore. Poncho cracks open a beer.

Before long we are boating Durado. Throughout the rest of the afternoon, a total of 8 Durado are captured. Good fighters and they seem to bite in waves. Often there were two or three on the lines at the same time.

Poncho cracks open beer after beer. His symptoms do not improve.

Needlefish are also hitting the bait but if hooked, are shaken loose. It's fun to watch them skim along the surface for extremely long distances before disappearing below again.

We spot an Orca or two, rare in these parts, while trolling. We also spot the odd Durado jumping and shark finning.

Around 2:00 in the afternoon we call it a day and decide it's time to vamanos. Poncho cracks open a beer.

On the return trip, we spot a sea turtle and watch flying fish gliding just above the water.

The temperature has been well over 100 degrees since shortly after the sun came up and we are fully baked, tired, thirsty due to the lack of water and probably a little hungry because our sandwiches had been consumed well over 7 hours before.

Poncho cracks open a beer.

It occurs to us that Poncho has consumed most of our beer and the signs are quite apparent. As we motor on he tries to add wondering around the boat in addition to what he thinks are songs and the loud, incomprehensible mumble that has become his sermon.

Poncho cracks open a beer. After repeatedly telling him to sit down, shut up and no mas cerveza, Poncho cracks open a beer. This time, it is grabbed from his hand and tossed into the water. He either gets it or his will power has become waterlogged.

Back to shore and off of the boat. We drag our virtually empty cooler and the part our catch we decide to have for dinner over to Catrina's Cocina Mexicana and Bar. Later that evening they prepared an absolutely fabulous meal presenting the different fish species cooked in three or four different ways. Far too much but terrific.

A couple more beers and I'm sure we'll be done for the evening...