Heading back north from Mulege

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Heading back north

It took us one day - 300 km to get to Guerrero Negro - 300km.

We left Mulege early in the morning, rolling the bikes out of the courtyard and into the street before starting them up - so we didn’t wake other guests. Rode the 60 or so km to Santa Rosalia before stopping for breakfast. The road back over the twisty mountain roads and then across the desert to San Ignacio was road already traveled, but on this day it was different. On our way tsouth, we travelled that part of the road later in the day, and for me anyways, my mind was focusing on our destination - the beach at Bahia Conception.

Now, it is early in the morning and we are on the return trip. We know this is our last view of this part of Baja, for a while at least. We are trying to soak in every bit of it.

What I saw is the greenest desert you could imagine. The land, though sand and rock, is carpeted with a huge variety of plant life. There are short stubby brush like cacti that have these little fruits on them, there are the tall cordon cacti, and numerous different kinds of short shrubs and bushes, even one leafy round shrub that sprouts a chi-pet like growth of little black-eyed Susan clones.

The green is different that what we are used to. It ranges from a dusty sage color to middle green. It shone with a yellowish tint in the morning sun. No dark greens like we see in our northern forests.

Once we past San Ignacio the ride started getting tiring. A super strong, gusting crosswind added to the slipstream of passing semi’s had us totally beat by the time we got to Guerrero Negro. And the scenery had totally changed, twice in that time. First, less green, bigger spaces between the plants and the addition of the spiky cacti with the afros at the top of each thick stem. The second change was just past the city of Viscaino. The landscape became flat, with no plants taller than a foot or so, and the green had disappeared and been replaced by sandy tan, with no more mountains in the background.

We just missed a rainstorm, packing our gear into the Hotel Don Gus in Guerrero Negro just as the first few drops began to fall. We were not able to avoid it on our ride the next day to Cataviñia

Stopping in the little café at Lake Chapala, it was different place than just a few weeks before. The first time we were looking for beer to quench thirst from a hot day on a challenging dirt road. This second time, in the cold and the rain, it was to warm up. With no heat in this humble little café, with rain dripping from holes in the tin roof, all we could do was have hot soup and tea and get going again.

Back on the road, it was dark skies, really windy and really rainy. We stopped early in Cataviñia - about 2 pm and checked in to the coolest hotel.

It was like walking into a colonial Spanish villa. Big courtyards, wrought iron gates, and long tiled walkways to get to our room. To add to the surreal quality of the place, we were two of only about 5 guests in a place built to hold 50 or 60. Soaking wet, we tried to turn on the heat to dry our gear and soon learned that there was none - at least not in the afternoon, or late at night - to save money, no doubt. The silence, and the setting, right in the middle of the Dali-esque landscape of the rock scattered boojum forest had us feeling like we were in some weird and strange cult movie set.

We had seen the last of the warm weather. The plan had been to ride north towards Ensenada, then take a right onto an 85km dirt road that would connect us up to Mex 3 and set us up for a straight ride into Yuma AZ to spend a couple of days visiting with friends.

The plan had to change. Leaving Cataviñia we were dealing with cold rain and side winds gusting so strong that we almost turned back worried that we’d be blown off the road. After spending an hour debating at an abandoned gas station, we decided to go forward. The weather cleared a bit for our lunch at El Rosario. But the necessity to change or plans became apparent as we rode through San Quintin. This is a workers town. Imagine Watson Lake with ten times as many people, most of them low paid poor farm workers, covered in a coating of red mud. Not fun.

We drove to the next town to find a hotel such as it was. It was cold in the hotel room. There was a TV, but it had only three channels, all Spanish and the reception was the colourful snow that you get from a bad set of rabbit ears. There was no heat or hot water in the room, and only one blanket on the bed. We dug out one of our Mexican blankets and crawled into bed with our clothes on. They were wet from the day riding and that was the only way they would dry out over night. We lay there in the dark cuddling to keep warm, laughing and telling each other all our stories of our coldest nights from other adventures. Not necessarily a night you want to repeat, but definitely one to remember.

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Photos

Mulege sidewalk
sidewalk navigation in Mexico is and everchanging challenge

Lupita's
Where we dropped our 'recruerdo' $$