Aneel's Travelogue

I filled my gas tank from one of the gas cans I've been carrying. Didn't even use the whole thing, so Chuck poured the rest into his bike. Also waxed my chain, which was looking a little red.

The road from Cataviña to points south was a little rougher than the road in, but still perfectly reasonable. The road was even emptier than yesterday for most of the way. It was also straight and flat enough that I had a chance to open up the throttle all the way in my top gear. Didn't get up to top speed, but probably came closer than I have in a while.

The lack of gas stations turned out to be a nonissue. The 7 or so liters that I put in were plenty to get to the next station, and we passed (and did not stop at) about a dozen signs offering gasoline not at a station.

After the downhill cruise from Cataviña, we briefly saw the Pacific coast again. We crossed the border into Baja California Sur, and stopped for lunch in Guerrero Negro. From there we headed back inland, this time into the Vizcaíno desert.

Unlike the rocky highland deserts, this area is sandy, and dominated by smaller cacti and shrubs. We passed one work crew sweeping sand off of the road. As befits a desert, it's really hot. Pretty reasonable while we're cruising between cities, but when we slow to pass through a town, it's uncomfortable.

When we arrived in San Ignacio, we were really ready for a dip. Fortunately, the village is in a palm oasis. There's a spring that feeds a river that supports the date palms. We pulled in, checked in to a yurt at a bed and breakfast place, walked a few yards, and jumped straight into the river. The water is warmer than any of the pools we've had at our hotels.

We didn't really get on the road until 11, what with getting breakfast and stopping to buy water and the miscellany that we figured we might need to pick up while we're still in a city (a power strip, some duct tape).

We'd ridden part of the road south yesterday, on our way to La Bufadora, but that didn't stop us from getting lost on our way to it this morning. Quite soon after the turnoff for La Bufadora, we ran into more construction. This time was much worse.

They were rebuilding the entire roadway, rather than just one lane at a time, like we'd seen before, so we rode for several kilometers on dirt. The road gets enough traffic that it was pretty well packed, but it was still rough, bumpy, slow going. Eventually we caught up to a bus, which was nice because the pickups that had been passing us realized that they couldn't get past the bus, and chilled out.

About the point where we were wondering if the whole rest of the journey was going to happen at a crawl, the construction ended, and we were on our way again. The road was good or great for the rest of today's trip.

Our unrealistic plan was to try to get to Guerrero Negro tonight, but by lunchtime it was clear that that was just impossible, so we set our sights on El Rosario, with the possibility of continuing on, depending on when we got there and how we felt.

We passed through a variety of terrain: hot inland valleys (often filled with wine grapes, but in one case set up for cactus farming), barren high plains with just brown grass between the rocks, burnt scrublands, and gray coastal flats with sand and dune plants for miles. In town, there was a constant blanket of diesel fumes, but out in the open we passed by valleys full of fragrant desert plants in bloom.

There was a succession of small towns along the side of the highway (the only paved road in the area). We pulled off onto sand, dirt, or gravel several times for gas and to stretch our legs, but it was hard to keep track of which settlement we were in. We had a late lunch in one town, a delicious roasted chicken, which may be the best food we've had so far. The restaurant owner told us we were in Camalú, about halfway to our destination.

The ride sped up a bit as traffic thinned out further from Ensenada. By the time we got to the last military checkpoint before El Rosario, there were few enough cars for the soldiers to ask us where we were going, and where we'd come from, instead of just waving us through.

In El Rosario we filled up on gas and stopped at Mama Espinoza's, which was the first checkpoint for the first Baja 1000 off-road rally in 1967. It's too on-road to be a checkpoint now, but the interior is still plastered with photos from all of the rally racers who've ever stopped by.

We decided to continue on to Cataviña, in the hopes of getting the inland parts of the trip done during the (relative) cool of the early evening and tomorrow morning. We passed the "Gas 314km" sign without slowing down. We were worried that the road would be slow or congested, but it turned out to be awesome. Sweeping curves, almost no traffic, and weird scenery.

Almost as soon as we left El Rosario, we started seeing Cirio trees, which look like alien plants: single straight tapering stalks with spikes. Occasionally they'd have a few branches which would also point almost straight up. Some of them seemed to be in bloom, with fans of small shoots with flowers at the tips. There were also enormous cacti. I don't think I've ever seen their like, even in Saguaro National Park.

There's not much in Cataviña besides scenery, but the hotel that is here (apparently built by the government in the 70s) is pretty nice. I had a walk around and took pictures (the sun obliged by shining through a break in the clouds that dominated the western sky), and then had a swim in the pool. There are friendly dogs (some of which seem to belong to the Federales) who come up and demand to be petted as we sit on the porch where there is slow WiFi. No uploading pictures tonight...

We're in Mexico! In Ensenada, to be more precise, about a block from the enormous Mexican flag that is one of the sights of this city. I'd hoped to be in Ensenada for a midafternoon snack, but we're running a bit behind schedule (no surprise there).

Chuck is not feeling well. He thinks it's something he ate. I'd kind of expected this to happen, but it's about two days early, since it must have been something he ate in Pacific Beach last night that did him in, not something on this side of the border. We stopped for breakfast at a place in Ocean Beach in the morning, and he didn't finish his stack of pancakes, and by the time we were in Tecate, he was feeling awful. So we decided to take it fairly easy and not push past Ensenada today.

The trip to the border was a little disconcerting. It was hard to believe that the road we were on actually led to a border crossing. We took CA 94 from the outskirts of San Diego to Tecate. Most of the way it was a lonely, winding, two-lane road (once it was one lane with a flagger for some construction). The final turnoff for Mexico didn't even mention that the destination (Tecate 2mi) was in Mexico. We did pass a border checkpoint, and a couple SUVs with Border Patrol markings, and at one point a border patrol helicopter flew over, but otherwise it was really low key.

We stopped just short of the border (which we knew, because there was an "International Border 1500m" sign), and filled up on gas. Chuck discovered that his gas can cap didn't actually seal the can either, and my selection of O-rings didn't seem to help. Luckily, I'd brought the pour spout from my gas cans, and that sealed it fine.

Then it was across the border... which was a pretty spectacular nonevent. We went through an archway. A light came on, telling us to stop, and then a guy took a look at us out of the corner of his eye and waved us through.

We were immediately caught in a traffic jam near Tecate's central square, but we made our way the two blocks to the Tecate beer garden, in the shadow of the brewery. After drinking our free beers, we headed back to the square (where they have free WiFi, but you have to register for an account, which neither of us felt compelled to do. It was at this point that Chuck started to notice just how sick he felt. I wolfed down some chilaquiles, while he just had some guacamole. Then while he sat and rested, I investigated the tourist office on the square, trying to find out where to get our Tourist form (necessary if you're going more than a certain distance from the border).

Apparently nobody goes more than a certain distance from the border, because the first two people who I asked in the office didn't know what I was talking about, and had to ask the third person, who pointed me back up the hill to the Aduana (Customs) office. We walked up the hill, with a quick stop at a bank to get some pesos. There are a lot of buildings on that hill labelled "Agencia Aduanal", but none of them are the customs agents. I think they probably have something to do with import/export. They pointed us further up the hill to the archway that we'd used to enter the country.

When we wandered around the arch a bit, a man in an INM shirt asked us what we were looking for, and when we said we needed Tourist forms, he took us inside and gave us a form to take down to the bank. After determining the proper line at the bank, handing over the form, and paying the fee, we took the completed form back up to the INM official and were given a second form to fill out. Once that was completed and stamped, we were on our way.

My GPS wanted us to go to Ensenada by way of Tijuana (negating the point of entering at Tecate in the first place), and the roads seemed to agree. Even when we found the signs for Mex 3 (to Ensenada) they abruptly changed to Mex 2 (to Tijuana) for a while before switching back. Once we were out of the city, things were much clearer. There was only one road, and occasionally it would assure us that it would eventually get to Ensenada.

The road seemed startlingly new. Very fresh, very smooth blacktop. After a little way it became clear why: it's brand new. We caught up with the road crews building the road, complete with more flaggers and pauses to let traffic from the other direction go by. There was one short section that had been torn up in anticipation of resurfacing, but hadn't yet been resurfaced, but even that wasn't as rough as some of the gravel roads I've ridden on near campgrounds back home.

The trickiest thing was figuring out how fast we should be going. The speed limits are clearly posted, and I'd switched my GPS over to km, so it gave me my speed in the proper scale. The problem was that when we actually went that speed, we got semis tailgating us and flashing their lights (everyone else just passed us). Eventually, we just followed some cars at the same speed they were going until we determined about how much faster than the posted limit was expected.

We passed through some beautiful country. Golden hills in the foreground, blue hills in the background, and small trees dotting the landscape. Dry, rolling rocky hills, with boulders strewn around. Valleys devoted to grape growing (this is wine country, it seems). There were a number of times that I would have liked to stop for a picture, but for almost all of the way, the road had no shoulder. Lots of people had warned me about that, but I hadn't realized the implications. My motorcycle would really not respond well to suddenly being on sand or gravel while going even moderately fast, so the only way to exit the road would be to find a place where we could slow down enough to get off the road gingerly. There aren't a whole lot of those places, particularly not in the (deserted) areas with the good views. Ah well.

Eventually, we reached the outskirts of Ensenada and stopped at a vista point to take stock. We decided that we should just relax and spend the night in the city, rather than try to push on, so we made our way to an area with a high density of hotels and picked one that looked good. They gave us a room and invited us to pull our motorcycles in to the courtyard with the pool (under an arch off of the courtyard with parking spaces. We ended up parking behind a truck under an overhang instead, since it seemed kind of annoying to take the bikes all the way in.

After a quick swim in the pool, we headed out to La Bufadora, a blowhole about 35km from the town. It turned out to be a really long 35km. The road wound around quite a bit, and there were inexplicable speed bumps in the middle of stretches of road marked at 80km/h (faster than almost all of the sections of Mex 3). La Bufadora appears to be a huge tourist trap. Hundreds of stalls full of tchotchkes, food vendors, and the like. However, they were almost all closed when we got there. I'm not sure whether it's just not the season or the fact that we got there late on a Monday, but it was eerily quiet. Almost the only people there were a bunch of christian harley riders (with Jesus patches sewn onto their biker vests).

The blowhole was pretty neat. It's a channel that narrows rapidly, so when a wave comes in, the water is forced up and sprays yards up into the air. I'm not sure it justifies the sheer mass of tourist-marketed junk, but it was interesting to watch.

I slept pretty well. Three cheers for my custom-fit earplugs. We had breakfast at the only Yelp four-star rated place in Santa Maria. Let's just say that rating criteria differ.

At breakfast we discovered that Chuck's hacked iPhone was constantly rebooting itself. It wouldn't even get past the Apple logo screen. Unfortunately, he was supposed to stay with his sister tonight, and her phone number was stored in the phone. Oops. He installed the Facebook app on my phone and sent his roommate a message asking him to turn his Mac at home on, so he could grab a backup off it.

The ride down was pretty, in the various California ways. First dry grass and scattered trees, then a mountain lake (We took CA 154 past Lake Cachuma, instead of the 101), and then a nice Pacific coast segment.

We reached Lifto's place around 12:30, and Chuck started transferring his phone backup to my Mac while we went to lunch at a great French restaurant in Venice and Lifto told us a bit about the area (canals? who knew?). It would be nice to spend some time there just hanging out.

Sarah met us at the restaurant and gave us a lift back to their place where we found that Chuck's download was complete and that Aeris the Silken Windhound had eaten my headphones. Of course, they're a weird kind that nobody stocks, so I ended up going to the Apple store, looking at what they had in the same line and then just picking up some Sony ones. The trip was only a couple miles, but it took much longer than it should have because of traffic.

by the time I returned, Chuck had a semi-working phone (good enough to get at his address book, but not enough to make calls), so he borrowed another phone to call his sister.

We ended up leaving Venice about, oh, 4 hours after we had originally planned, but it was a pretty quick ride down to San Diego. The FasTrak electronic toll collection down here operates without even slowing down, and the lanes are well separated from the normal lanes, so there aren't people cutting across four FasTrak lanes to get from one of the cash lanes to another like there are on the Bay Bridge.

I managed to have my low fuel light come on square in the middle of a 20mi stretch with no services at all (much better than at the beginning...), so I hit a new record: 177.3mi on a tank (with at least .064gal left over!). I hope this pattern continues.

I dropped Chuck at his sister's place in Pacific Beach and continued down to Ocean Beach to hang out with Daniell. She fed me a lovely dinner and then made taste test the chocolate chip muffins she'd just finished baking.

GPS track: Day 2

Surprisingly, our departure wasn't that much later than planned. I managed to get out the door by 10, and was at Chuck's by 10:20, where we determined that our walkie-talkie setup was at least basically functional, and that I'd left my spare keys at home. We tried swinging by Key Kraft to get an extra set made, but they were closed, so we went back to my house to grab my usual spare set.

From there, it was a quick trip down the 101 to 280. We stopped in Campbell, just off of the 17 because Chuck's walkie-talkie cable had come unplugged, and ended up having lunch at a restaurant called the Elephant Bar, which looks like Sammy Hagar's idea of a colonial outpost.

I pulled out the quilted liners from my riding suit while we were stopped. It turned out to be a really good idea, because as we went south, the day went from warm to blazing. We stopped for second lunch in Paso Robles and checked the temperature: 101F. Should you find yourself in Paso Robles, allow me to suggest that you avoid "Good Old Burgers". I refilled my camelbak-knockoff with water from a soda dispenser. It definitely tasted better with the splash of lime juice I'd had in it before.

Our itinerary for the day called for stopping in San Luis Obispo, but it was only 30mi from Paso Robles, so we decided to press on. We got as far as Santa Maria before we were tired enough to want to call it a day. The first motel we tried was booked full. It seems that there's a meetup of the Viejitos Car Club in the area so there are a ton of heavily customized low-riders around, there's also a flower show, and some sort of Harley convention. Luckily (?) we were able to get a spot at another Motel. It's also filled with car club guys and their kids, so there's a lot of revving, and air-raid siren horns.

I got amazingly good mileage. Just short of 160mi on my first tank (I usually get more like 120), and I even had 0.021 gallons left when we found a gas station (assuming my tank holds exactly what it's supposed to). To be on the safe side, I filled one of the gas cans in my side case, and discovered that the spout caps that I got don't actually seal properly. I scavenged the gasket from the cap I'm not currently using and got a pretty good seal. An auto parts store here in Santa Maria supplied me with some O-rings ("anillos"!) that should solve the problem more permanently.

Santa Maria seems full of people who want to talk about motorcycles. We were having dinner in a fish and chips place, and the owner of the bar next door came over, stopped at our table to ask where we were going, and regaled us with tales of his Vespa trip down to Baja (highlight: setting a cow carcass on fire). In the parking lot, a guy asked Chuck if his bike was a 2005 (yes), and started talking about all of the mods you can do to that type of bike (he has a 2008 of the smaller size). When we were waved through the "Driver's License Checkpoint" (the last time on this trip that driving while gringo will help us?), the cops called out "Keep the rubber side down!"

I'm trying to find a good way to upload GPS tracks. For now, here's a link: Day 1

Spent the day tying up loose ends and packing...

One sidecase for gas, one for clothes, a water-filled backpack and a camera bag. The topcase is going to be empty, so I can toss things like my helmet in it when I stop.

I've spent the last few weekends doing some light preparations for the motorcycle trip. Buying accessories (gas cans, new GPS unit, Mexico maps, windscreen, walkie/talkies...), and fitting them on the bike...

Unfortunately, the windscreen seems to do far more harm than good. I can adjust it so that it sends a blast of air straight at my chest, which is loud and uncomfortable, or straight at my head, which quickly induces a headache. It seems like it can't direct the air high enough to go over my head in a normal riding position. I've taken it off again. Barring unexpected access to a wind tunnel for fine-tuning, I think I'm going to have to do without.

I spent an afternoon at Chuck's house working on the wiring. I had the GPS and my old cigarette lighter adapter plugged directly into the battery. Now they're plugged into a splice off of the license plate light circuit. Chuck had a spare SAE connector with an inline fuse, so we used that for the first connector in the new wiring. When we soldered up the GPS unit's power and the lighter adapter, we discovered that each of those also has an inline fuse. No fear of shorts here...

Planning has commenced for my next big trip. The plan is to ride my motorcycle down to Loreto, Baja California Sur, Mexico. I'll spend a week there Scuba diving with Gina and crew, then ride back. I figure the ride should take about a week each way, allowing for delays.

I was initially a bit nervous about the ride. Simple mechanical problems could leave me profoundly stranded, and my bike only has about 100-120mi of range before the low fuel light comes on. There are also stories about bad roads and even bandits, though the people at the AAA didn't seem too worried.

However, my friend Chuck has agreed to join me. The only snag is that his current bike only has a 1.5gal tank...

Pictures from Morocco are up. Also Madrid.

Other people have posted pictures from this trip too...

• Tinny's pictures
• Phil's pictures
• Mo's pictures

The flight from Madrid to Chicago felt very long. It turns out to have been 10 hours, but it felt even longer than that. Part of the problem was that I had totally lost track of time zones and I didn't know how long the flight was supposed to be, so I couldn't tell myself "only three hours to go...". It's lucky that Mo loaned me a hefty book, since I finished the last of mine on the bus to El Jadida. It lasted almost all of the way.

I got into Chicago and through customs quickly. Sure enough, the outer rice bag was disintegrating, but the inner one seemed intact.

American was able to put me on an earlier flight to SFO, but I almost missed it because the security line was really slow. They made me give up the snow globe that I picked up in the Casablanca airport (ok, sand globe. It had two palm trees, a camel, and glitter for sand). Sad.

The outer rice bag had huge tears in it by the time I retrieved it from the baggage claim at SFO, so I finished tearing it apart and continued with just the inner bag.

Because of the earlier flight, I got into SFO before Dave and Jenny, so I had time to stop by the in-airport Burger Joint before meeting them. It's good to be back.