Lessons Learned

Epilogue

What we learned doing this adventure: six opinions

Mark Fromberg:

  1. Cycling the Baja Peninsula was easier and safer than I expected. Even though Hwy 1 was often lacking shoulders for cyclists, the sparseness of traffic, and the wide berths given to us by most drivers, more than made up for our angst about this long ride. I eventually felt safer on the road here than in BC!
  2. The Mexican people we came across were helpful, genuine and hard-working.  They also inspired us with how so many of them could make a living out of almost nothing.
  3. Temperatures often dipped more overnight more than we expected–even below freezing on one occasion– especially in high desert. 
  4.  Having van support was critical for the ease and success of this ride–to carry all of our “stuff”, like fresh clothes, camping gear, biking accessories, toiletries and the like.  We were also able to carry all of our favorite breakfast and snack foods, and keep a cooler full of beer for the end of every day. Since we took turns driving it, we all had an optional built in weekly rest day, although we could still do an out-and-back after parking the van at the day’s meet point.
  5. We had just the right number of riders, all of similar abilities and experience.  We think 4-8 is optimal.  And we all managed to get along, despite how heavily opinionated we all were!  
  6. We stayed flexible throughout our riding days, sometimes riding together, sometimes spreading apart, as each of us had our own pace, need for stretch breaks, or stops for photos.

Ross Hedley:

1)

Don Searle:

 

John Macpherson:

 

Tony Viola:

 

Ken Williams:

 

What would we do differently next time?

Almost nothing!!

Week 3 Baja California Sur

Baja California Sur

Day 15: Playa Buenaventura to Hotel Santa Fe, Loreto, 95k

January 21, 2020: Because we were all in bed early, we were all up at the crack of dawn, watching a lovely sunrise while dolphins were foraging for food just a few yards  from shore. Although it was overcast to start, there was an expectation for sun, so Mark decided to get an early start, while everyone else was more inclined to wait out the sunrise and to have breakfast first.  After breakfast (for those mortals who eat it) and packing up of tents (for those tough enough and/or cheap enough to use them), the riding began. John would be driving the van today, and would do a couple of out-and-back rides to meet the group after parking down the road at our specified rendezvous points.

Sunrise over Playa El Requeson

Although we had been under the impression that El Requesón was the last beach in the series, there were at least two more that we rode by. Though lesser known and less well demarcated, they looked like great spots to camp (Playa Yañez and Playa Armenta are right next to each other).

Traffic was remarkably sparse in the first 3 hours of riding, with cars and trucks only passing us by every 5-15 minutes, again making the lack of a shoulder less of a concern.  And as has been the case, the pavement quality on Hwy 1 varied considerably along this leg of our journey.

The day began with a series of climbs to about 250 m above sea level before an enjoyable descent to the first stop of the day at about 32K from Buenaventura, a small roadside café where Don, Ken, and Tony each enjoyed an impressively large plate of scrambled eggs with ham, plus frioles and tortillas. Ross was on a diet (having recently eaten) so demurred on the food. Fun spot, actually, with a beer can Christmas tree out front, and a roof completely covered in vines. 

From there, the road was fairly flat with lots of changes in direction for about 40 k before coming to one last series of climbs for another 250 m of elevation.  By then, the midday sun was beating down on us, and the feeling of wanting to get this ride over with, grew.  We were done the ride in just over 4 hours.

As Loreto loomed in the distance traffic had become a little more regular, so we were glad to get to our upscale hotel, a huge edifice looming in the middle of town, a couple kms from the waterfront malecon and about a kilometer away from the central shopping and restaurant area. 

The beds at Hotel Santa Fe were curiously small–our room had single–yes, single–narrow beds that were barely 6 feet long.  They did have a nice pool and hot tub in their inner courtyard, and they also had a restaurant (good for morning coffee), an ATM and a grocery store as part of the facility. 

On arrival, showers and a beer were the first orders of the day (well, duh).  Rain that was forecast for the afternoon never really materialized. We also heard the rumour that Steven Spielberg’s boat was anchored in front of Loreto Bay; his guests, who had been spotted shopping in town, were none other than Barack and Michelle Obama! We have been looking for them ever since.

We enjoyed a bit of hot tub time at the hotel, a nice way to relax some tight muscles.  It had been a hard ride so Captain Ken force-marched the troops into the hot tub where beer was served.  While there, we tried to contact Ross’s wife, the Birthday Girl–Julia–to do a group sing over FaceTime video. Unfortunately, she wasn’t available so, having heard that Michelle and Barrack Obama were in town, we decided to try our birthday salute again when we went for dinner and get them in on the fun. Unfortunately M&B must have got the meet-up time wrong cuz they didn’t make it. Sadly, instead Ross selflessly drank a margarita in Julia’s honour — thinking all the while of her — before joining John, Ken and Mark in sampling the extraordinarily good craft beer and some great food offered at the brew pub we had happened upon. Tony and Don didn’t feel much like dinner, so they stayed at the hotel.

While there, we met a Canadian couple from the Yukon sitting next to us.  The older gentleman traded hunting stories with Ross, who kindly indulged (can we get going now, Ross?).  His wife shared with us the story of the Canadian company that designed the complex at Loreto Bay, an ex-pat community a few miles south of the city of Loreto, where a lot of Canadians take up extended residence every year.

And then we had this fun story: Because John’s butt was particularly sore after two weeks of riding on a hard saddle, he had run out of his chamois butter, so he decided to go to a local farmacia with Tony to find a reasonable facsimile replacement.  Very quickly, and because of both a language and cultural barrier, this is where the conversation became memorable.

In preparation for the visit, John had looked up the Spanish words for “personal lubricant”, and asked if they had any.  Tony stepped in to explain, by pantomime, that lubricant can be used to reduce friction points on the neck, armpits, and chest, as many triathletes find with wetsuit use.  John, not really seeing the intent of what Tony was explaining, instead pointed to his buttocks, mentioning bicicleta.

With a knowing smile reminiscent of Mona Lisa, this clerk remained unfazed as she grabbed some strawberry-flavoured lubricant from the shelf next to the condoms.  One could clearly imagine what she thought of Tony and John.  These are some of the joys of a language barrier…

We were all in bed by 10 PM, happy with the prospect of sleeping in for our second well-deserved rest day.  We were able to park the van in a well-lit, secured hotel compound. But those tiny beds… given that 4 of the 6 of us were 6 ft+ tall, our night time comfort was somewhat lacking.

Day 16: Rest day in Loreto

Wednesday, January 22:  Although we woke to a sunny and warm morning, we all took our time to get going–get some coffee, a light breakfast, pick up some groceries, fill the van’s gas tank, and get some laundry done.  It was an otherwise unstructured day, but we managed to explore some highlights of the area. Mark spent his morning swearing at his computer, which seemed to spend more time blacking out that being functional.

First, we took a walk downtown, to check out the shopping area and another old church just off the main plaza.  At the end of a lovely orange-treed canopied promenade was the malecon, and before that, lots of bars and restaurants.

We then took a road trip to see a local historical site, the Misión St. Javier, built about 300 years ago, nestled in a fertile valley about 35 k on a windy but well-maintained road due west of Loreto.

We also drove through the  beach side community at Loreto Bay, where lots of both Americans and Canadians have bought or rent condos for their warm weather reprieve of their winter months. Since Ken was scheduled to drive the next day, he took in some extra mileage with a flat cruise to Puerto Escondido, at the km marker 93 further south on Hwy 1.  This is where the Spielberg yacht (some called it a ferry!) was spotted, with the Obamas presumed to be on board. 

In the evening, we started at the hotel lobby, where they offered free margaritas to hotel guests (they were terrible).  We then drove into town, found a spot to park not far from the main square before proceeding to Orlando’s, a traditional Mexican restaurant recommended to us by some local Americans.  There they offered 4 flavors of margaritas (but were pretty but pricey: $150 pesos each) that three of us ordered. By the time dinner arrived, though, we were well into craft beer, which went well with the big plate of guacamole, grilled fish and chicken/beef fajitas we ordered.

 

Since the ride the next day was planned to be relatively short, 60 k to a camping site called El Huatomote on Google Maps, we decided there would be no rush to get up and going in the AM.

Day 17: Loreto to Hotel Misióne BCS, Ciudad Insurgentes, 121k

Thursday, January 23: We woke to another beautiful, sunny, slowly warming morning, with colorful birds seen through the window on the grapefruit tree next to our room. Now that we were well into BCS, we no longer needed the extra layers to get us through the very cool mornings we endured earlier in the trip.

As usual, Mark preferred to leave ahead of the group (about 9AM), so he could pace himself with regular breaks due to his ongoing sciatic symptoms.  Tony and Don left soon after, while Ross and John delayed their start to about 10:30, AM in favor of a more leisurely pace, given that the day’s ride was supposed to be only about 60k. It was Ken’s day to drive the van to the meet points, but because he had done some extra riding on his off day the day before, he decided not to do the out-and-back riding to meet the other riders.

The first 20 k south was on good highway with a wide shoulder, before a few climbs took us to a couple lovely lookout points to see the local islands and another secluded bay. 

From there, at km marker 93 was the Puerto Escondido, an underused, but well-developed yacht harbor just a kilometer off the highway, seemingly built in anticipation of significant tourist growth in the area.  John and Ross stopped in there on the way, on the off chance that the Obamas and the Spielberg yacht were still there (they weren’t).  After admiring the marina’s mahogany garbage containers (times must have been good), they enjoyed a drink, a snack and some unhurried conversation before returning to the ride to El Huatamote. A lone donkey, with a cactus fruit stuck in his side, was almost the only sign of life in the desolate puerto.

About 35 k from Loreto was a small convenience store, conveniently situated to offer snacks and soft drinks just before a long, winding persisting hill-climb for the next 15 k.

 

By 60 k, we had reached the flat of the high desert again, and we were now looking for our destination of  El Huatamote.  At that point we saw a freshly paved but long road to a place called Agua Verde and Playa Cosme (could our destination be down there?), but the road turned into a rough gravel road after 10k (and without any sign of a camp)…a no-go zone in any event for our bikes. Instead we returned to Hwy 1, and drove a few more kms down the road to where we expected some kind of site (as was identified on Google Maps as El Huatamote), supposedly 63 k from our hotel where we had planned to camp.

However, there was nothing there at all…nada, zippo, zilch.  Perhaps a roadside clearing might have had a presence many years ago? So much for relying on Google maps.  We only found a humble truck stop another 10k down the road–where we stopped to eat and consider our options.

We were now on the high desert plain in the mid afternoon, with no obvious sites nearby for camping. So, with anticipated flat highway and a tailwind, but while still waiting for John and Ross to appear, the rest of us opted to ride for another 60 k to the town of Ciudad Insurgentes, where there was a hotel that we had previously booked.  After Mark, Don, and Tony left, Ken drove back a ways, then waited for John and Ross to tell them the news–they were thrilled: “Oh”. Ken offered them a ride (“no way”) and recommended a snack at a roadside stand a bit further along (“sounds good”). After a brief stop, John and Ross rode on. 

The road quickly became straight, flat and tedious. Then a thermal headwind came up, affecting the last 25k of the ride. As things turned out, it was draining riding in direct sun all the way to Ciudad Insurgentes. Ross was glad to be able to draft behind John, who did the lion’s share of the work (credit where due). But, given their later start, and their stop in the harbour, they were now scrambling to get to the new destination before dark. No one was taking photographs any more.

In the end, we all made it without incident, but it was a much longer day than any of us anticipated.  The showers felt great, the beer went down easy, the internet was functional, and a huge spread of Chef Tony’s salad along with 3 whole dismembered chickens, bought in preparation for camping, was devoured in no time at all.  

 

Mark’s laptop, which had been giving him fits due to its tendency to black out repeatedly, was seemingly fixed overnight with a complete operating system replacement (or so it seemed). Although we had all been pretty spent by the long and tough ride, it was still a satisfying day, and we all slept pretty well.

Day 18: Ciudad Insurgentes to Hotel Mumai, Ciudad Constitución, 29k

Friday, January 24: Given the unexpectedly long ride of the day before, we gave ourselves a break with a short, flat, and totally straight ride in sparse traffic (about 29 k in just over an hour) to the next city in the high desert morning sunshine. 

Such rides can find you in a rhythmical, pedal-stroking trance–and one gets used to riding exactly on the white line–when it is visible–which varies from 4-8 inches wide, and yet is often the smoothest part of the highway, since vehicles  usually avoid it.  However, the reflectors that are regularly spaced on the road surface require constant vigilance to avoid, especially when they are partly hidden in this white line, and a car is passing.

 

As the van driver of the day, Ross arrived first in Ciudad Constitución, taking advantage of his early arrival with a quick stop at coffee bar on the main drag, where he washed down a cookie with an excellent (extra shot) latte before the posse arrived. 

After collecting there, we proceeded to our evening’s  (again) up-scale accommodations–the Hotel Mumai–on the southern outskirts of the city. 

 

First order of business, as usual, was eating–showering seemed optional, as we hardly broke a sweat on this short riding day. We drove back into town to find a restaurant, bypassing a sketchy chicken fast-food outlet in favour of a traditional Mexican restaurant which featured posters of Revolutionary heroes Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata.  One of these posters could have been an advertisement for our cycling trip– It exhorted, “Hey Gringo! Be all you can be!” “Ride with Pancho Villa!”  “Be a part of history!”  We had a great meal there, with everyone opting for, surprisingly, orange juice over beer (the waitress bought these in from a street vendor out on the street!).

We then spent the rest of the afternoon at the hotel–without internet (can you even imagine?)–despite the promise of a technician’s visit later. Internet surfing now qualifies as an activity in and of itself, a nightmare (should we say “netmare”?) for most, but liberating for Mark, who enjoyed an afternoon free from cursing at his malfunctioning computer.  John found a way to connect with home while downtown, to check in with his wife.

 

So, we relaxed there for a while, did some laundry, and looked for a couple of bike shops for a new set of tire levers (that John lost falling out of his unzipped bike pouch) , a search that proved disappointing.  Most of the humble bike shops we visited here had pretty limited inventories.

Evening drew nigh and so we set off for dinner, an exercise reminiscent of herding preschoolers–6 guys with different (or no) preferences–who don’t know where they are going or what they are looking for. However, inspired by fond memories of the excellent Benny’s Pizza in Punta Colonet, we opted for another similar meal when we saw an empty (that should have been a red flag) but open pizza joint.

As it turned out our Mexican pizza experience nosedived from the sublime to the abysmal: words cannot begin to do justice to how crappy this eating experience was.  That the place was empty but next to a busy taqueria should have been our first clue; the proprietor also seemed grumpy, even resentful of our presence (the second clue).  But we endured–we decided on three pizzas between the 6 of us–a house special, a vegetarian, and a Hawaiian pizza.  So far, so good.  

Then the pizzas came.  The vegetarian seemed normal enough, but uninspired–mostly cheese on sparse slivers of suspected green peppers. The “Special”–OMG–the meat was slices of hot dogs!  Didn’t the menu say “Special”?

The Hawaiian though, was in a class by itself.  Perhaps it is unreasonable for us Canadians to assume that there is some kind of international convention or definition of “Hawaiian pizza”–that it include, at its very least, ham and pineapple under cheese.  But despite the country we were in, there was no pineapple and there was no ham.  Instead, the Hawaiian theme was to be carried by slices of banana and sliced maraschino cherries.  Whhhaaaatttt?  This would be the one time we did not eat all the food put in front of us; nor did we want to take any of it home. But, like all good trips, we can say it was, at least, memorable. I think we are done ordering pizza in Mexico.

We were all in our rooms by 9 PM, to get ready for a bigger ride tomorrow.

Day 19: Ciudad Constitución to Las Pocitas, 95 k

Saturday, January 25:  After some informal breakfast eaten out of the back of the van, we left Hotel Mumai by 8:30 AM, with Mark driving the van along the day’s first leg to Santa Rita, about a two-hour ride. This first section was a continuing flat and totally straight high desert highway to a presumed restaurant stop at the first bend in the highway, from where he would ride back to meet the posse. 

Although Google Maps showed the Restaurant Los Pinos to be 51k from our start point, we found only a corner store there, and nothing at all called Los Pinos. In fact, the signs to the town all said “Santa Rita”. Yet another Google Maps distortion.

Otherwise, it was another nice morning to ride, with comfortable temperatures, with mostly cloud cover and occasional sun all morning. This segment of Hwy 1 featured nice, wide shoulders for the first 25 k out of the city, which disappeared for the next 20 k before reappearing about 5 k before the convenience store at Santa Rita. 

 

It was an easy ride, completed in just 2 hours, while Mark’s out-and-back was half that. Ross noted a sizeable field of solar electric panel supports along the way, presumably awaiting panels and project activation.

At this break point, after a couple of snacks bought from the corner store (since there was no open restaurant), Ross took over the driving to our day’s destination at Las Pocitas, where we would camp. The posse would ride another 45 k down even more mostly straight, flat road.  

 

And then, seemingly out of no where, appeared the small village of Las Pocitas, without any clear reason to exist where it does. Since Mark and Ross arrived at our day’s destination ahead of the posse, they had some time to fill the beer cooler, and scout out the few eateries that existed along the 1/2 km strip, while keeping an eye out for a viable place to camp.

By mid afternoon, all of us had arrived, initially congregating at a rustic, family-run but tony restaurant at the south end of town.  Here, across from a tire shop that occasionally rented out rooms, we enjoyed rugged traditional ambience and some great burritos–washed down by the cold beer we always have a reliable supply of in the back of the van.  Ooooh, and that hot sauce–you could blow your head off just touching it to your lips.

After lunch, we started looking for available accommodation. We were first told that the local tire shop had rooms, but….not currently available).  So we spent the next hours contemplating where the best place to camp would be.  That proved challenging.  What–no hotels?

A local Mexican told us that we could pitch a tent just about anywhere—“no one would bother you”– suggesting to camp under the nearby highway bridge.  However, when we checked the spot out, we discovered the World’s Nastiest Burrs–a kind of local velcro, on steroids–which quickly and tightly attached to anything that dared brush against them–socks, car tires, bike tires, footwear, skin, you-name-it– everything was easily and quickly penetrated.  The omnidirectional barbs on these babies were so sharp that we needed tweezers to keep our hands from suffering further consequences.  The suggested area under the bridge where we found these biological weapons quickly made this area inhospitable for tenting. Strike one.

 

Tony had suggested camping under a tree next to the highway, until a 5 foot Baja Gopher snake was seen slithering through the grass. Strike 2. 

Then a side road into the desert was considered for camping, but good flat, quiet spots a half kilometer down a gravel road were a long way from a food source and bathrooms.  Ross was all over it, but the anemic enthusiasm shared by most of the others carried the day. Nope, this won’t work either.

 

Don and Tony casted the deciding votes against this site, while confirming that an abandoned construction site was available for us to use, distinguished by its proximity to a public toilet and the cold beer in the OXXO convenience store just across the highway. It would be a definite step down from the accommodation from the night before. And so we moved in.

While Tony and Don set up their tents in choice spots a little farther away from the road (and behind a building to reduce street noise), John, Ken and Ross put down their mats and Therma-rests on the concrete floor, behind a half wall that would serve to reduce some of the traffic lights and sounds. Mark would again sleep in his definitely-more-comfortable van bed. With the Oxxo store nearby, the afternoon had its share of truckers and general traffic at our doorstep.

 

Once we set up our beds, we turned our focus to dinner.  While Ken sat with the bikes in the dark, the rest of us walked about 200 meters down the road to the only open outdoor taco stand, where we ordered pairs of some very tasty tacos “asada” (roasted meat–pork? goat?–who knows what)–at just 25 pesos each.  We all had seconds, and brought some back for Ken, who later lead the charge to OXXO for a nighttime cookie fix! Tony’s homemade cookies seemed to start it all…

Once back to our digs for the night, we noticed that there was a Saturday night house party across the street, playing Mexican music loudly and well into the night.  Along with the background thrumming of idling diesel trucks, it would all be the cacophony that would lull us all to into at least, some form of sleep.   If only it had been better music… But rather than a travel low-point, it is nights like these become the fodder for a memorable trip!  It is always fun to see who is the grumpiest in the AM…

Day 20: Las Pocitas to Hotel HBlue, La Paz, 112 k

Sunday, January 26:  On waking in Las Pocitas, the consensus was generally no one had a great sleep, especially because of the dusty and unyielding concrete floor, compounded by the loud music playing well into the night. We were all itching to move on.  Our day was to be another big ride, with about 600+ meters of climbing over our 112 k day to get to La Paz, where would spend 3 nights enjoying a nice long break in the biggest city in BCS.

It was a lovely morning. While everyone packed up their bedding and ate some breakfast, Mark left first, at about 8AM, on a ride that would prove to be more interesting than the previous days, with a couple of steady climbs, and much more of a winding road, after an initial flat straightaway. 

It was again fortunate that most of the day would be cloud covered,  which would make the riding more comfortable, and minimize any thermal winds that might translate into a head wind.  As it was a Sunday morning, road traffic was again light, and the road, was mostly good quality, with a few stretches of wide shoulders.  Yellow butterflies (moths?) greeted us on the highway–they were everywhere–some destined to become windshield dressing. The desert was always surprising us.

As it was John’s driving day, he had made note of a couple of possible stopping spots the night before, one at 55 k (the halfway point), and one at about 81 k. The first stop was simply on top of a hill, near a cell phone repeater tower, where he left the van to ride back to the other riders.  We snacked there, and replenished our fluids before taking on the last half of the ride. 

 

The second stop found Ken and Ross enjoying quesadillas under some large desert mule deer antlers hanging on the wall, while providing a welcome and curious distraction for the children living there.

Although we were on the road between 5-6+ hours, the lack of strong winds and only occasional direct sunshine made most of this ride tolerable–however, a long, winding and most welcome downhill into the outskirts of La Paz was followed by a surprisingly long, flat, and sandy course through an industrial part of town, tempered further with a headwind coming off the bay. We were all pretty tired after these last few kilometers into town, now also having to dodge sustained city traffic in four lanes while negotiating multiple one-way streets. 

 

We all arrived here at different times, and with different needs.  Since John and Mark arrived first, they quickly showered before taking an extended stroll along La Paz’s  family-friendly malecón on a now sunny afternoon. Roughly translated as a “pier”, this 3 km-long promenade includes a bike path, and is considered to be the nicest malecón in Mexico. Restaurants, bars, ice cream shops and street art–lots to see here. 

As everyone else arrived, some just preferred to rest, before contemplating a walk out for dinner.  After having some ceviche for a late lunch at a waterfront restaurant, Mark was happy to get reconnected with wi-fi, and backfill some missing commentary of this blog! We all looked forward to 3 nights in La Paz (translation: “The Peace”), buoyed by the notion that we had only two more riding days left to complete our epic journey.  Lots to see and do here–it was already feeling like a genuine Mexican town, all but devoid of American influence or shops hawking trinkets to tourists.  We did notice the Walmart, Home Depot, and the Sam’s Club as we rode through the outskirts of town though…

Day 21: Hotel HBlue, La Paz Rest Day 1

Monday, January 27: With our first quality night’s sleep in a business class hotel behind us, we turned to exploring the big city of La Paz (now with 240,000+ people, it is also the capital of the state of Baja California Sur).  Laundry and relaxation, as well as some wandering of the streets, including the bayside’s promenade–the city’s malecón–were high on the agenda for our first full day there, and the hotel’s location was perfect for this.  And since the hotel had a complimentary breakfast on the rooftop every morning, it was also an excellent place to start each day, taking in the great view of the commercial centre and the bay from the 6th floor. 

Because of its unique location at the bottom of the bay, La Paz is one of the few cities in the world that can boast both a sunrise and a sunset over water.

By late morning, Mark’s laptop had crashed again, so he took it to an Apple service centre that, as luck would have it, was right across the street from the hotel.  It would be diagnosed within a day. Mark also dropped into the local Walmart to pick up some more snacks for the road, and got the van washed by hand at Guga Car Wash for just $200 pesos. He even arranged a dental cleaning (by a dentist), and got a haircut. 

In the mid afternoon, several of us went out to visit Kelowna friends Les and Cindy, who had rented a suite in a guarded community on the bay about 10k northeast of town (nice American-style resort–a bit sterile really–but they had to drive into town most evenings for dinner).  Nevertheless, they had been impressed by the quality of the restaurants in La Paz, and the genuineness of the people there.  We would have dinner with them later that evening at one of their favourite Italian restaurants, just a  block away from our hotel.

On the left, views of a timeshared golf resort about 10 miles northeast of La Paz; on the right, a highly regarded Italian restaurant that our group went to for dinner on our first evening in La Paz.

Mark’s haircut (standard rate: $60 pesos) was serendipitously more interesting than expected, even with the significant language barrier.  As it happened, the barber that cut Mark’s hair at Peluquería Ole was himself a cyclist–after he got the gist of our trip, he revealed a large poster that was hidden behind the open front door, that outlined his cycling trip from Tijuana to Cabo San Lucas–a trip that, in 1987, when road quality could not have been as good, he did about 1800 k in just 11 days!  His poster included a number of official letters of recognition and commendation from various authorities of his landmark feat.

Beyond the malecón, in the parallel streets behind, there is a commercial zone catering to the local populace. Several of us explored the stores nearby, looked in shop windows, and walked into several of them to get a feel for Mexican retail merchandising. Ross took pictures of the street art when ever and wherever he could find it.

Day 22: Hotel HBlue, La Paz, Rest Day 2

Tuesday January 28: Another great morning to be on the roof terrace for breakfast, and then laze around to catch up on things–reading, banking, communications home, drop-off of laundry at a local lavanderia, and more exploration of the local streets.

Mark got his computer back with the diagnosis that it would be almost as expensive to repair as to replace–sigh–a project for home.  The van got refueled.  Mark went for a dental cleaning–done by the dentist–paying less than half for the same service at home.  The dentist who attended him also had a great story of Baja travel: He had a veterinarian friend, who, in his 70s, retraced the Jesuit pilgrimage trail the entire length of the Baja peninsula–on horseback–visiting each of the misións along the way, including several that we had visited.  The trip took about 75 days, and followed only the original horse trails across the desert.  Wow–not for the faint of heart.

In the afternoon, we all took a ½ hour road trip out to see the most beautiful beach in the area–a scalloped, shallow bay with several individual beaches that you could walk through warm, shallow water to get to.  We hit it right–it was a lovely sunny afternoon that allowed us to lounge around and explore for a couple of hours, joining small numbers of mostly Mexican tourists. For Ross, the brilliant light and leisurely family activities were reminiscent of paintings of European beach scenes from around 1900, and in particular reminded him of an excellent art exhibit (“Sorolla, Master of Light”) that he and Julia had recently attended in London. The Bahia and Playa Balandra is a must see, even if it is a little bit out of town–about 25 k–a 35 minute drive, made longer with a couple of miles of active road construction.

In our last evening, we took the advice of the hotel clerk for our last great dinner at a seafood/beef restaurant hidden under trees in a back alley.  Tatanka is a must see–the food was spectacular, and we were the only ones there. And there were many others that we could not fit in to our plans–Nim, Nemi, Las Tres Virgenes, Sorstis, and the awesome coffee shop Doce Cuarenta are all on the same block– something to look forward to the next time.

As if that wasn’t enough to satisfy us–several of us went for dessert after dinner as our last foray onto the malecón–where there are several ice cream shops.  Since the ride scheduled for tomorrow, was our longest and hilliest, we wanted to be well fed!  And we were all in bed at a respectable hour.

 

 We found La Paz to be a true Mexican town–understated, with many hidden treasures, and quietly charming.  But we never had a chance to go swimming with the whale sharks!

Day 23: La Paz to Hotel BuenaVista, Los Barriles, 114 k

Wednesday, January 29: This ride would start early, as soon as we could get breakfast done at the hotel.  We expected a warm day, 6 hours of riding, and lots of climbing. Mark again left first, by about 8AM.  

The ride out of La Paz was not enjoyable.  It took almost 20 k to clear the industrial parts of the city, where there was lots of truck traffic and very beat up road surfaces, with added hazards of sandy areas, minimal shoulders, and non-existent road lines.  By about 25 k, things improved–the highway out of town finally split, with Hwy 19 veering west (the direct route to Cabo San Lucas), while Hwy 1 turned southeast, toward Los Barriles and San Jose del Cabo.  By that point, the quality of the road surface was much better, the scenery improved, and the traffic got pleasantly quiet. The climbing we did at points was so gradual, it was hardly noticed.  With a slight tail wind at times, this ride, despite its daunting length and significant climbing elevation, turned out to be very enjoyable, almost easy–lots of terrain changes, with a nice variety of hills, curves, and vistas.  

Our first stop would be El Triunfo, a small, charming and historic mining town some 53k from our La Paz hotel.  As Ken was the designated driver for the day, he got there first, and rode back to meet the incoming riders. John led the charge to a roadside restaurant, where they served tasty mushroom quesadillas, and easy access to a neighboring arts museum and store.

The town proved to be a good spot to eat and socialize before taking on the longer last part of the ride to Los Barriles, a further 62 k down the road.

One of John’s cycling friends, Janine, who lives in Nanaimo happened to be in el Triunfo, prompting Ken to have an extended social visit over an excessively expensive but large cinnamon bun at the lovely El Triunfo cafe, just a block off the hwy, in the historic part of town.  Much of the town has been revitalized with help from Walmart/Walton money.  There is a music museum there, as well as a tour of the old mining site. 

After leaving the town, the road headed into a long and thrilling downhill,–the best of our entire ride–twisting and turning downhill in winding sharp curves that just kept coming–lots of fun–until reaching bridge over a low lying dry, flat arroyo ended the joy ride about 10 km short of Los Barriles.  

By the middle of the afternoon, we had all arrived at the Buena Vista Beach Resort, which was located about 6 k further south of the town of Los Barriles, on a sandy road not readily amenable to cycling on thin road tires.  At the entrance of the hotel parking area, Mark managed to cartwheel over his handlebars when his front wheel fell into a grate.  Fortunately, no major injury occurred–even the bike seemed no worse for wear.  It proved to be just a showy way to dismount at the end of a ride–too bad no one noticed.

Although the hotel felt a little old and tired (being one of the first to be built in the area), the rooms we had were quiet and comfortable.   Once we were all in, a refreshing shower followed by a visit to the natural spring watered jacuzzi held some appeal, for some.  Tony and Ken crashed in some afternoon sun in a couple of hammocks, A few cold beers with nuts and chips out of the van seemed to be the most common denominator. Electrolytes, electrolytes. 

By dinner time Tony and Don were happy to stay at the hotel to enjoy their catch-of-the-day, while the rest of us headed into town to find a well attended bar-restaurant, which were not hard to find.  We chose Smoky’s on the main drag, where we all ordered their tasty (but expensive) on-tap IPA before dinner, followed by a round of margaritas.  Ross found that heir chicken soup was a meal in itself, and for the rest of us, the fish tacos were also excellent.  

As we were finishing our meal, we were visited by an American from Laguna Beach–he identified himself as a long time local developer, whose interest in chatting with us was coincidentally matched by how much he had already had to drink.  

When he heard how we had arrived here, and where we were from, he was first amazed, and then said, “You know, I like you guys”.  He looked around the table at us, and said, “Are you guys all scientists?  You look like environmentalists.”  Which lead him into his passion for the environment, how much he hates Trump, and how much he demonstrates his care of the planet in the houses he builds for billionaires.  He wanted to buy us a round of tequilas, which we declined; he then offered us a couple of days on his 60 ft cruiser, which he was too busy to use.  He repeatedly asked us, “Do you think I’m an asshole?” He seemed to need a lot of reassurance…

Although Ross got his contact information (for the boat ride that never materialized), we eventually left him at the bar to further contemplate his existential dilemmas.  Physically spent, and sufficiently sated and rehydrated, it was bed time for us, so we drove back to the hotel to crash.

Day 24: Los Barriles Rest Day

Thursday, January 30:  Since John’s wife had been increasingly ill in the last week of the trip, (necessitating cancelling her scheduled trip down to SJD on January 31),  this became John’s day to return home. Ross and Ken took John to the airport from Los Barriles, checking out the final day’s ride route in the process. The rest of us lounged at the hotel, taking in some sun, a natural mineral springs jacuzzi, and some reading. While the van was away, Don, Tony and Mark walked 4 ½ k in a headwind along the beach to get to Los Barriles–we had to dodge some suntanning cows–where we would eventually meet with Ken and Ross to check out the local kiteboarding, and have some lunch. The Beans and Rice Bar offered 2-for-1 drinks at their 2-6PM Happy Hour  (margaritas always seem to be the best choice in these challenging situations, don’t you think?).  We also had some some good tacos with their complementary rice and beans soup there, but they had a wide ranging menu with lots of interesting choices.  

Despite going through a few last cold beers from the cooler at the hotel, our evening turned out to be quiet.  Tony and Don had dinner again at the hotel restaurant, which served up another excellent catch-of-the-day dish.  For the first time, we started contemplating the end of the trip–discussion centred around logistics of where to drop off bags, how to get bike boxes, and how and when to get Ken and Don to the airport to pick up spouses and rental cars, and what Mark and Ross’s plans were for the next few days. 

Day 25: Los Barriles to Zona Hotelera, San Jose del Cabo, 77K

Friday, January 31: The last leg of our adventure!  Ken and Mark wanted to get an early start (Ken’s wife was arriving today, so he needed to be cleaned up and on his best behaviour!)– there would have to be time to get showered and changed in time to get Ken back to the airport by 2PM.  We were all on the road before 8:30 AM, with the goal of getting into San Jose del Cabo by noon. Given how windy it was in Los Barriles the day before, we expected at least a mild tail wind for this last leg to the end of the peninsula.  

And we got it.  Yippee!  It would prove to be another great day of riding.

 

Along the way we passed a sign indicating the Tropic of Cancer, another indicator of how far we have come.

Ken and Mark got to San Jose del Cabo first, averaging just under 27km/hr over just 3 hours– until they hit the congestion of SJD traffic.  Once past the airport on Hwy 1–the last part of our ride through this congested city–the cycling wasn’t pleasant. The traffic, the frequent traffic lights and bus stops, the non-existent shoulders, the lost lane delineations, the merging cars, and the rutted, patched and crumbling sections of the road all required significant levels of attention. Despite this, we all got through these challenges, arriving safely to our new hotel–and well before noon!  Victory toasts were in order, but the pool would have to wait.

 

After a shower, and a few cold beers, Mark and Ross took Ken out to the airport, having enough time for lunch at a humble taqueria along the way. Fish tacos all round–fresh, delicious and cheap.

 

By the time we had all returned to Ken’s Las Mañanitas condo complex (Tony and Don booked different accommodation–the Posada Real Los Cabos), Ross had managed to pick up some margarita mix and a bottle of tequila to toast our success with, noting that John was unable to join us for our last day. 

We marvelled how well it all went–no injuries, no mechanical failures, and no need to change the schedule we drew out originally. We had only 4 flat tires amongst us.

Our evening’s relaxed celebratory dinner was at an Italian restaurant within walking distance of our hotels–“Macca”–where we had pizza and calzones.

It was an early-to-bed night, a welcome opportunity to continue to reflect on a trip that we are all pretty proud of.    

On our first full day in San Jose del Cabo, we found ourselves in the middle of a big wedding celebration on the beach in front of the hotel, complete with fireworks that we accepted as a celebration of our trip. And on the second rest day there, we watched the Superbowl on a rainy evening at an outdoor bar.  An attractive Mexican girl had a great t-shirt on, which said, “You had me at tacos”.

While Ross and Tony would head home within a few days, Mark, Ken and Don all spent an extra week or more in BCS, after their respective spouses flew down to to join them.  On February 14, after dropping his spouse off at the airport, Mark drove for 6 days and about 4400 kms to return to BC with the van that had all served us so well.  

Week 2

Baja California Central

Day 8:Hotel Misión Cataviña to Restaurant Melany, Punta Prieta, 117k

Tuesday, January 14: After our planned two day rest stop in Cataviña, we took off for a long but very flat ride on mostly new blacktop to a small village where we had planned to camp.  Although still layered up in the mornings, temperatures were noticeably milder–we had a high overcast day with more moderate temperatures–perfect for riding.  We were able to cruise several long sections at 40+km/hr before hitting some moderate headwinds for the last 25 k or so. A few days previously, we were fortunate to get some advice from the truck driver/distributor (the guy who tried in vain to sell junk food items to the business woman/cook/mother at our camping truck-stop) we had met at el Sacrificio, who suggested that the Restaurant Melany at the south end of Punta Prieta actually had a few rooms to rent. 

Mark drove the van this day, and since Tony had woken not feeling well after GI symptoms overnight, he was good with hitching a ride (he had spent a lot of time chatting with the big white telephone after his Cataviña burger).

The first stop, about halfway into an otherwise unremarkable ride, was at a small truck-stop just past the intersection to the freshly paved Hwy 5 (which veers east to follow the Sea of Cortez coastline to San Filipe). The humble restaurant seemed to be thriving–several truckers were just finishing their meals there when we arrived. On the low ceiling above us, the rafters  bore the scrawled, felt-penned names and dates of many groups who had stopped there, likely both bikers and cyclists among them.

While most of the guys ordered some food, Ross managed to get a pic of la chef señorita, who efficiently pushed out hot, filling meals on a classic Marco Pride wood stove, efficiently stoking this century-old relic while attending multiple customers simultaneously. Tony meanwhile, was trying to get his bearings that day, forcing water and then Coke down between several needed naps in the back of the van. 

The rest of the day’s ride was again long flat straight stretches with sparse traffic on the high desert–with landscape that varied from flat monotonous low scrub to more interesting stretches of saguaro cactus.  There was rarely any visible wildlife–cows and horses notwithstanding–although we did see a coyote and a bobcat running across the road.  Regular evidence of roadkill and opportunistic vultures did suggest that there was lots of hidden life in this otherwise desert solitude.  Don took a break during this section to fix his first flat. 

The end of the day found us at the Restaurant Melany, which had some very modest rooms as an alternative to camping.  Ross got a room to himself, while Tony and Don shared a room, as did John and Ken.  Unfortunately, the rooms had not been used in quite some time, and had the smell of dried sink traps that was hard to get rid of.  Mark would sleep in his van.

Memorable also was the restaurant’s outdoor bathroom–the toilet had the top water chamber open with a piece of rebar in it, an improvisation to help flush the toilet!  

And then there was John’s persistent negotiation for a 1 ½ liter bottle of red wine that they didn’t really want to sell, despite how crappy to wine was.  After sharing this fizzy grape product (hard to call it wine) with anyone who dared to try it, John was seen finishing the bottle himself!  Kinda like the stuff found on Saltspring Island?

Day 9: Punta Prieta to Hotel TerraSal, Guerrero Negro, 116k

Wednesday January 15: Weatherwise, it was another good day–dry and sunny, not too cold. We got up early, because we had gone to bed by 8 o’clock to escape the cold in our unheated rooms. (We know … no tears were being shed in snowy Vancouver or frigid Kelowna, Edmonton, etc.). Today was the day we were going to cross the border, into Baja California Sur, a sparsely-populated territory that only became a Mexican state in 1974. While it is slightly bigger in total area than its northern neighbour on the peninsula, it has only 1/5th of the population of the older state of Baja California.

After departing Restaurant Melanie, the first section of our ride was 37k of moderate terrain, leading past the inviting advertisement for the Cactus Hotel (Ross: Julia — it’s a chain!) and ending at another truckstop restaurant–Mauricio’s–in El Rosarito, where most of the group indulged in the freshly cooked food and the free wifi. 

After a quick break, Tony (still feeling weak after a couple of days of GI upset) took over driving from Ross and riders set out on the 80k second leg, which was broken up by another quick stop at a town that was not on our Google maps (yet it is on Google Earth)–Jesus Maria–big enough to have a Pemex gas station and a number of longstanding businesses. The boys found some food at at a small mercado–Diconsa–to refuel for the last 40 k. Moral of the story, once again: Don’t depend too much on Google Maps.  

This last section was almost completely flat–in one 40k stretch, it also ran straight as an arrow. The monotony notwithstanding,  it was otherwise good riding — cool and overcast, with newly paved roads or close to it. As we approached Guerrero Negro, we crossed from the state of Baja California to Baja California Sur, our figurative halfway point.

Appropriately, we passed by the Half Way Inn at the border an a massive whale’s skeleton before riding a few kms more to the Hotel TerraSal in Guerrero Negro. A satisfying day, given the distance and the return to the coast, as well as the overcast skies and comfortable temperatures for riding.  The ride wasn’t particular scenic, but a good day on a bike still beats sitting in a tour bus.

 

Once we all had showers in our new digs, we planned to get into town to find a bike shop, as Don had broken a spoke a day after his flat tire. After lots of searching, we found a small side street with a humble, dirt-floored bike repair shop with a generous array of Shimano bike parts and saddles.  Despite the language barrier, the owner/bike mechanic had no problems understanding what Don needed.  For 45 minutes, and with mesmerizing efficiency, he took Don’s rear wheel completely apart, removing the cassette, the disc brake assembly, and the last pieces of his spoke.  He then cleaned the whole wheel, replaced the spoke, reassembled all the parts, and re-trued the wheel.  We all watched in awed silence–he put on a clinic for us.  His bill–$80 pesos, about $6!  And he was thrilled with the extra $20 peso tip Don gave him!  …Are we distorting their economy by tipping like this?

A trip to a bank for Tony, a quick tour of the main drag, and a grocery store run for beer, ice, and breakfast stuff was the extent of the rest of our day.  We ate dinner in the hotel restaurant–nothing particularly memorable there.  We were all in bed by 8:30PM.  A shorter ride, albeit with a steady climb back into the high desert, was in the cards for the next day.

Day 10: Guerrero Negro to Hotel Lichita, El Marasal, 77k

Thursday, January 16: After an unremarkable evening, we woke up to grey skies, with a few raindrops seen on the van windshield.  Mark woke up with a limp and a swollen right foot, so was more than happy to drive. Riders stayed under cover with their rain gear on to adjust their bike computers before starting out.

There didn’t seem much exciting to say about this day.  The slight drizzle, the flat light, the equally flat highway, and the 77 km of riding that stretched into the distance in a perfectly straight line together made for an unremarkable ride. Fortunately, rain never really materialized, the ride went quickly, and the minimal drizzle ended by about the halfway point, without anyone really getting wet.

El Marasal proved to be similar in size to Guerrero Negro, with somewhat better amenities, such as a bigger grocery store and even a modern department store. We were also able to fill up on water at the local Frexpura for 12 pesos, and fill up the van’s diesel tank.  Mark looked in vain for a computer service shop.

After collective showers at our new digs at Hotel Lichita, a hot traditional Mexican lunch was at a great small taqueria on the main street.  We have come to love seeking out street food–it is cheap and delicious, and made right in front of you.

To fix his limp (probably caused by ill-fitting insoles and worn out clip-in pedals that no longer held the cleat), Mark was able to find some basic new insoles for a couple of bucks (to replace ones that had unusually hard arch support) at a nearby Farmacia; and he found a bike shop (Ian’s Bikes) that sold Shimano clip-in pedals–problems solved perhaps? (Tune the clapping and cheering crowds.) Note the bench in front of the shop, made of spent bike parts.

The Hotel Lichita proved to be very comfortable. As things turned out, the day was not boring at all.  Good food, good weather, and all of our mechanical problems solved.

Day 11: El Marasal to Hotel La Huerta, San Ignacio, 72k

Friday, January 17:  It was another nice, sunny day to ride. There was a developing tailwind, and it wasn’t cold at 8AM when we prepared to get going.  Since Mark had developed a swollen left foot the previous day, he wasn’t sure if he could do the ride, so he started ahead of the rest of the group to test his new setup of pedals and insoles purchased the evening before. John was the designated driver this day.

The cycling path out of el Marasal was sandy along the main streets, with the odd dog interested in taking up bike chasing–a regular event that is occasionally unnerving, depending on the size, determination, and agility of the dog (Don’s solution: pull out your water bottle and hit them on the head if they get close enough).  The pavement was, shall we say, “post-matured” in this gritty town–cracked, wounded, and rough–and although the highway was better–even with wild flowers in bloom at the side of the road–it was without much of a shoulder (again).  Four riders were able to maintain a steady pace over the first 40k, given how little climbing there was on this dead straight section. Fortunately, Hwy 1 has been relatively quiet, allowing drivers to easily pass, albeit at highway speeds.  Some waved respectfully, while others were, in fact, courteous enough to put on emergency flashers as they drove by.

This first straight flat section had little in the way of interesting scenery, or even truck stops (there was only one all day, at about 45k along the way to San Ignacio).  The persisting tailwind felt like the hand of God–providing the illusion of cycling mastery as we held significant speed even on inclines.  The last 20 k of our route morphed into some short curves, dips and a few minor climbs before a stop at the most official military checkpoint on the whole peninsula (where the van was extensively searched).  Then, seemingly out of nowhere, San Ignacio appeared as a lush oasis on the right side of Highway 1. As we drove in, big palm trees shaded the road, where a couple of RV campgrounds were seen just past a huge fresh water lagoon.  A old central town square, reminiscent of a classic Spanish pueblo, was built to complement a prominent 250-year-old Jesuit church at one end.

 

We all arrived there by midday, when we met Tony and Jeanette, friends from Kelowna who were driving back to Canada after three months of kiteboarding in La Ventana.  After showering, snacking, attending to laundry, and engaging in an impromptu happy hour in the sunny central patio of our new hotel over the afternoon, we had an excellent dinner in the central town square.  The pictures tell the rest of the story.

Beside the church, this town and this area is also known for large numbers well preserved ancient cave drawings, some of which can only be accessed by burro–next time maybe.  We could have spent more time here, but we were anticipating more to see and do on the Sea of Cortez in the days to come!

Day 12: San Ignacio to Santa Rosalía, 77 km

Saturday, January 18: What a difference a day makes!  After a great night in a San Ignacio restaurant, and good night’s sleep, we woke up to a clear but very windy morning. The day before had been mostly still, with some nice gentle winds pushing us to our destination in just 3 hours.

Today’s ride would be about the same distance as the day previous, but with about 600m of climbing. So, would this morning’s bluster provide a headwind or a tailwind?  And would it last, or build, over our day on the road?  More concerning–would the wind affect us especially on the anticipated hills, some of which were 9% grade?  Ross had humbly admitted that morning that he was tired enough to offer Ken a switch in driving responsibilities for the day.  Ken, ever the energetic bike-riding animal, gallantly agreed, notwithstanding the anticipated challenges for the day. Ross: “Muchas gracias, Señor Ken!”

Using whatever apps we had at our disposal that morning, we concluded that this gusty NNE wind would build and last all day, and average over 20k/hr.   Since (we thought!) our route was overall ESE, we  concluded that this would be mostly a side wind, and wouldn’t affect us very much, at least until we got closer to the Sea of Cortez.

We were wrong on both counts.  As you can see by the map above, our route started with a steady climb  heading NNE, so we got hammered directly, with driving winds at the outset,  slowing our average speed to less than 10k/hr in spots, even having to stand on our pedals at times on the flatter sections.  The climbs eventually became anaerobic feats of survival–thank goodness they were intermittent and short. 

After 3 hours of steady riding–the same time it took to finish  the previous day’s ride–we were only half way to our hotel in Santa Rosalía! “I’m working for my money today!” said Tony.  When a sandy truck stop appeared about half-way along our journey, we welcomed the break even with Mark falling off his bike in the parking area as he sunk into some soft sand. Contrarily, Ross was later pleased to report that the day’s headwind didn’t slow down the van at all. 

 

The winds would pummel us all day.  When we reached the last crest before beginning our descent to sea level, the marvellous Sea of Cortez was a sight to behold–covered in whitecaps plainly visible from 25k away.

The views all along this route were stunning–the majestic Volcán las Tres Virgenes, the windswept sandstone formations, the untouched flat benches rising out of the desert, and then a huge cactus-covered valley floor, sometimes dense, sometimes not, but remarkably green just the same (due to an unusually rainy fall season).  

Although a winding, downhill descent is usually the reward for a day’s worth of climbing, we just could not let loose–swirling, blustery winds challenged our control of our bikes, and it was harder to hear vehicles coming up from behind us.  As we caught our first glimpses of the Sea of Cortez as we started down, a prominent roadside shrine at the edge of a cliff was a stern reminder of the perils faced in this part of the highway. Despite this, the views on the descent were spectacular, although probably enjoyed more by Ross in the van than by the rest of us. 

When we finally turned fully south to follow the shoreline, we did have a solid tailwind, but by then the quality of the bitumen had deteriorated badly, with potholes and large cracks appearing like a dried up lakebed, jarring every tired joint in both our bodies and our bikes. This was one challenging ride–easily the toughest so far–and time-wise (over 6 hours), it would be our longest.

Santa Rosalía was not the touristy beach town we had hoped it might be.  After first riding by the town’s burning garbage dump on super-rough pavement, we continued past some aging and derelict infrastructure left from the French copper mining company that was still standing, despite being shuttered for good in 1954 (Since then, the Mexican government tried to continue mining here to prevent the collapse of the town, but gave up in the 1980s).  More recently, both Canadian and Korean interests have kept mining active here.  Not exactly a beach resort town.  

As Ross was driving, he was the first to arrive in town to check into our evening’s accommodations–the Hotel Las Casitas, run by Brenda, an American woman–which was perched on a cliff over the Sea of Cortez on the south side of town.  But since our rooms weren’t ready, Ross rode back to meet us, prompting our group to opt for a beer and some fish tacos in town (some locals provided some good suggestions in the city’s Centro).

After that, we hit the showers, snacked on what we had in the van, and reconstituted ourselves with some more beer in the van’s cooler that Ross had filled on arrival.

Although we were able to sit in the late afternoon sunshine, those continuing winds–coming off the water–found us needing to, once again, layer up.  Sun tanning would have to wait.

The Hotel had decent wifi, spacious, comfortable rooms, and spectacular views of the Sea of Cortez.   

On Brenda’s recommendation, we had dinner at Tonka’s Grill, a burger joint in Santa Rosalía where the huge food servings completely stuffed us. Oddly, there was a brief power failure there just as we were paying the bill–had it occurred just a few minutes earlier, it would have been weird to eat in the dark.

Although we had planned to stay here two nights, we did not find Santa Rosalía particularly attractive, so we opted to move on the next morning. There were more scenic areas nearby–Mulegé, for one–if anyone in our group could only pronounce it correctly…no Ken, in Spanish, it does not rhyme with wedge!  This historic town is known as the gateway to the picturesque beaches on the Bahía de Concepción.  And since our original plan included a long, 135k ride from Mulegé to Loreto, it would mean that these lovely beaches would be but a blur. So breaking this leg up into two riding days made more sense, further justifying the need to spend only one day in Santa Rosalía.  It would prove to be a great decision.

Day 13: Santa Rosalía to Hotel Hacienda Mulegé, 60k

Sunday, January 19:  We woke to a lovely warm morning–already 14°C(!) such a nice change–with hardly a hint of the thermal winds of the evening before. However, we could already see the building wind (in the form of whitecaps) in the distance.  Unlike all of our previous morning starts, it was already (finally!) warm enough to ride with just a jersey layer, although Don continued to wear his full-length tights. And with the anticipated tailwind expected to build from 14km/hour to 21 km/hour by noon, in sunny skies, and without much climbing expected, we were keen to get a fast ride in today, before it got too warm, to contrast the punishing ride of the day before. 

 

After a modest climb out of Santa Rosalía, Hwy 1 would become a good quality road again, and roughly follow the shoreline south.  The tailwind allowed sustained speeds over 30km/hr (fun!) until we reached a final climb ahead of the town of Mulegé, where we would spend the night. But, as Ross put it, there was no free lunch on this ride–rolling hills, followed by a steep climb and then a fun drop at the end meant for sustained efforts and concentration. After this ride, Hedley’s Theorem of Elevation emerged: “Meters climbed always exceeds meters dropped, even when the start and finish are at the same elevation”. (He came to believe that this has been conclusively proven several times on this trip and is an empirically reproducible phenomenon).  Or is it just that we all spend so much more time on the climbs than the downhills? Delirium? Have such nascent philosophic ramblings become an integral part of riding smelling the flowers on so many miles of high desert? “

But we digress. Mulegé is an interesting little town, with mostly paved streets, with lots of bars , hotels and restaurants, suggesting a strong tourism draw.  We checked into the Hotel Hacienda Mulegé, relaxing in the courtyard with beer and chips, while chatting at length with a young hostess Naomi, who had recently spent a month in Vancouver in an English language immersion program–she is an aspiring architect, wanting to follow her sister’s and father’s lead. 

Oddly, Mark noticed that his tire had gone flat while rolling it into the hotel courtyard, with a prominent burr firmly puncturing the sidewall of his Gatorskin front tire–this must have happened on arrival at the hotel, as he had no problems riding that day.  We had been warned about these lethal burrs, and we would likely see them again.

On arrival, we couldn’t help but notice a terrific din coming from a small arena just outside and behind our hotel–the sound of a sport event gathering, mixed in with endless rooster crowing. Behold, we had gotten here in time to witness an evening of cockfights, a raucous, noisy “winter” tradition here that lasted most of the afternoon and well into the night!  Oh, joy…  It seems that chicken farmers have limited use for more than one or two roosters, hence allowing this bloodsport some traction, especially among the local men who bet on the fights.

Although the fights are allowed to continue for 15 minutes, it was rare to see them last more than 5.  These specially bred birds (conditioned to have increased stamina and strength, while having congenital aggression to other males of their species) are first primed up with the sight of each other, and then released simultaneously, sprinting from their respective ends.  They viciously rip each other up with their beaks and their spurs, which have been enhanced with a sharp metal gaff attached to one leg.  Their aggression continues well after they are mortally wounded.  At times, the owners will pick up their birds, blow air into their beaks, and prop them back up, to face off again in the centre of the cockpit.  the fight is over when one is unable to stand and fight (read: mostly dead).

On a lighter note (while Ross preferred to roam Mulegé and watch the brutal cultural spectacle next door), the rest of us took advantage of the afternoon to travel down the Bahia Concepción to check out some of the legendary beaches, both for a good lunch spot, and to scout out a suitable beach to camp on the next evening. About 25 k from Mulegé, we had a great lunch at one of the two restaurants (Armando’s) at Playa Santispac. This beach was on the edge of a beautiful, expansive turquoise bay with shallow waters and some picturesque islands.  A couple dozen RVs were parked just off the water’s edge on hard-packed sand.

We roamed the picturesque coastline highway for another 20 km, from where lovely vistas revealed a continuing sequence of mostly untouched beaches after Santispac–Playa Burro, Playa El Coyote,  Playa Coco, Playa Buenaventura, and Playa Requesón–most of which had good representations of RVs with BC license plates.  Lovely, lovely. We vowed to check a few of these out tomorrow.

 

Because we had heard that bathroom, shower, and restaurant facilities were available at Buenaventura, we decided to camp there the next night, although we thought it would be great to hang out at Requesón as well, a spectacular double-sided beach just 2 km further down the road. When we dropped by, we met a couple there from Penticton, who thought the Buenaventura restaurant made the best burgers ever.  They also gave us some suggestions for our next days in Loreto and the stops along to La Paz.

Since the Bahía Concepción does not allow commercial fishing, there are only small watercraft out on the water, with sailboats idyllically anchored in front of all of these playas.  The waters there are teeming with fish, dolphins, and various species of whales, many easily seen from these beaches. At least one of them attracts the giant whale sharks, where snorkelers and kayakers go to join them in the water. It is easy to see why people camp at these beaches for extended periods of time.

By evening, with the cockfights still in full swing, Ross shared his newfound expertise in the sport of cockfighting taking us to watch a few of these over a few beers as the casualties mounted. A friendly street vendor provided us our dinner that evening.f

Day 14: Mulegé to Playa Buenoventura, 43k

January 20, 2020: Having been ‘serenaded’ by decreasing numbers of crowing, fighting cocks over the previous evening, we finally did get some sleep, and looked forward to a relatively short ride to our camping spot at Playa Buenaventura.  We woke up to another lovely day for riding–sunny, but comfortable, and without any wind.  It was Mark’s turn to drive the van, and since it was a short ride, he opted to visit some of the beaches along the way as opposed to riding back to meet the crew.

Since we had explored the many beaches south of Mulegé the day before, we were now familiar with the many lovely beaches along the winding, and hilly road and the along the picturesque Bahía Concepción (check out the pics below this post). Our overnight spot would be right on the beach, with access to shower and bathroom facilities, as well as a beachside restaurant known for its homemade sausage burgers, its margaritas, and its party atmosphere.  

 

Tony had a strong day riding, while the others stopped for coffee at the first and most heavily populated RV beach (Playa Santispac). It was Mark’s turn to drive the van, and he took advantage of the ease of mobility to stop at several of the beaches along the way, chatting with a few of the campers set up there, many of which were British Columbians.  Playa Coco, Playa el Burro, and Playa Coyote all followed Santispac, and all had extended stay RVers.  Several of these beaches had sailboats in their harbors, and Playa el Burro was known to have whale sharks visiting in February.

After setting up tents on the beach, some sheltered by palapas from the wind (no, wait, just John, Ross and Tony did that: Don and Ken preferred to pay for some beach side rooms in an abandoned but still operating hotel), we enjoyed some usual-post ride indulgences (beer and wine to rehydrate; chips and nuts for electroytes) on the beach.  

Later, that included burgers and fish tacos for lunch at the restaurant. Their menu had been depleted because of the standing room only crowd there the previous day, who were there to watch the NFL semifinal game between the Green Bay Packers and the San Francisco 49ers.  Touchingly, the restaurant and hotel owners had set up an alter to the Packers after the game (they lost).  In their outhouse bathrooms, sage advice was seen on the walls:

After lunch and beer, 4 of us drove 2 further km to the next beach (some say the prettiest one)–Playa El Requesón–to wade in the shallow, warm water, and talk with some more campers there (from BC and Oregon).

Because of the relatively short ride on the day, it felt like a rest day.  John wasn’t feeling up to eating a formal dinner due to an upset stomach, so he stuck to his go-to soulfood–peanut butter and jam sandwiches in small doses over the afternoon.  The rest of us had large portion servings of fish, either grilling or fried in garlic, along with either beer or margaritas–or both!  Good thing we were burning lots of calories every day.  

Although the owner shared their wifi with us after dinner, we were all in bed pretty early, as it was totally dark by about 7:30 PM.  Except for an occasional car coursing by, the evening was dead quiet, with an amazing clear, starry night above us.  Looking across the Bahía, one could not see any trace of human activity–a view that could have been exactly the same as thousands of years ago–very peaceful and relaxing. 

The beaches of Bahía Concepción

Week 1

Baja California Norte, Week 1

The first day’s cycling route (for 4 riders–Don, Ken, John and Tony)) is outlined in blue (below); it cut through the heart of Tijuana before turning onto Hwy 1 toward the coast and Rosarito, the first meeting point. Ross and Mark drove the support van across the border, turning immediately due west to follow the border wall to access Hwy 1D, a scenic coastal toll highway to meet the rest of the guys in Rosarito  (the blue line, below right–the toll was US$2.05). Apparently cyclists are not supposed to be using toll roads (I guess if you pay money to drive the road, there would be a backlash for those who don’t want the obligation to watch for cyclists), even though there is a wide, clean shoulder on this highway. This post is the play-by-play for our first week on the Baja Peninsula.

Day 1: San Ysidro CA to Puerto Nuevo, B.C., 48K​

Tuesday, January 7, 2020: Our adventure had an early start from the Valli Hi Motel in San Ysidro, just 3 miles from the Mexican border.  While Mark and Ross drove across early, at 6:30AM, to beat the traffic (which they did pretty easily), The Golden Arches next door became the site of the breakfast of champions for the four who would cycle across the border separately to start the day. The crossing was unremarkable for both those cycling and those driving. The only step was to provide our passport information on a Mexican immigration card (along with US$30), good for 6 months  (we will have to hang on to it, to present it on leaving or risk a fine).

While Mark and Ross took the scenic toll highway (the initial stretch parallelled the border walls, and then continued along the coastline), the cycling group took Highway 1, which proved slightly more challenging to navigate, especially with traffic.

We decided to make the first meeting point in the town of Rosarito, where we would all buy inexpensive SIM cards for the month at either one of the many OXXO convenience stores along the main drag of Rosarito.  Since there is a Telcel office on this street as well, it was easy to iron out any cell phone issues before we continued on our way.  Here is everything you need to know about getting a SIM card in Mexico:  https://www.traveloffpath.com/sim-card-mexico/

After John had the first flat of the trip (on his “super durable” tires, no less, and on the very first 20k!), the second leg was an easy shoreline ride to our first day’s destination: Puerto Nuevo.  This first ride of our trip was short and sweet, and otherwise without hitches–and tere were no complaints of saddle-soreness!

 Puerto Nuevo was a small, touristy, rectangular village of more than a dozen seafood restaurants, all seemingly starving for business.  We picked one at the south end of the village (Villa Ortega’s) that had a lovely seaside view as well as a large area in plain sight to lock up bikes.

We had a great lunch there, and we had the place to ourselves. Massive American-sized portions–Tony couldn’t get through half of his meal!  But for all of us, the beer all went down easily somehow–the body just knows what it needs in the form of electrolyte replenishment–even for those driving!

Just a few hundred meters down the road, the beachside Puerto Nuevo Baja Hotel was our stop for the evening.  It was almost deserted, but with a gentle ocean breeze and poolside seats in 23°C weather, it was nice to relax there.  Mark tried the outdoor, unheated pool–brisk, to say the least!–which could not have been more than 15°C (nights there are only 10°C), but he had no problem with their 37°C hot-tub. 

With lots of time left in our day, it was a good afternoon to get organized and set our routines. We created a WhatsApp group with our new cell phone numbers, and started strategizing the next day’s ride–when to leave, who would be driving, where will we stop, etc.  While John sorted things out on his phone poolside, Ken…took a nap.

Day 2: Puerto Nuevo to Maneadero, 83K

Wednesday, January 8: On our second day riding, we continued south on Hwy 1. John and Ken volunteered to drive the van 53 k to El Sauzal, a small town just before Ensenada, where they could park the vehicle on the main drag, and then ride back to meet us.  

For the riders, the route from Puerto Nuevo started on a quiet seaside road (Highway 1), which turned inward, under the toll highway, where it climbs about 800m on a highway that is super quiet and in great shape.  A long winding downhill was a welcome relief after 3+ hours and 55k of riding.

El Sausal also proved to be a good spot for lunch–traffic noise notwithstanding, we found a traditional open air Mexican restaurant well attended by locals, due to its convenient location and variety of traditional dishes.  Hot tip: Check out the noisy roadside taqueria in El Sauzal called El Trailera–great fresh food, made in an open air kitchen right in front of you, with very reasonable prices. 

The ride after lunch was a significant contrast to the morning’s route.  As we approached Ensanada, traffic increased, becoming a very busy, noisy 4 lane highway, and with almost continuous ruts and potholes. There were virtually no shoulders and lots of dirt and sand on the road as well,  making for a challenging ride.  Most of the next 30k going through the city of Ensenada was also daunting, dodging parked cars, big semi trailers, and local buses stopping frequently.  

 

The traffic only seemed to ease as we reached the town of Maneadora, a gritty working town with large sort dirt shoulders. 

The Hotel Hacienda de Choix was just outside the town, up a sketchy (for cyclists)dirt road, but was otherwise clean and comfortable, A warm shower and a cold beer were welcome rewards by the end of this day.  A visit to the freshly filled cooler in the back of the van had become a vital part of our daily arrival ritual!

Since John and Ken drove from EL Sauzal to our days’ final destination at Maneadero, they opted to replace some of the missing saddle mileage by doing an out and back to the coastline. This is their description of it:  

“After the main ride arrived at the hotel, we two van drivers rode from the hotel back down to Highway 23, which took us westward along a very nice flat road with wide shoulders through an agricultural setting and along the shoreline to the point at the tip of the bay looking back at Ensanada. This out-and-back was approximately 40 km. Definitely a pleasant ride with very little traffic.”

Our Mexican night was again cool–perhaps 4-5°C outside, without any heat source in the hotel room–so we slept in our clothes!  Since it gets dark–very dark–early in rural Baja, we were all in bed early, to rest for a bigger day tomorrow.

Day 3: Maneadero to Hotel Paraiso Colonet, Punta Colonet, 103K

Thursday, January 9: This day would prove to be the longest ride so far. The first 25K had light traffic on good quality roads and wide shoulders.  This section of Hwy 1 was known as a “ruta vinicola”, with lots of vineyards in a green valley.  A mountain pass with lots of construction followed, and slowed progress somewhat, but it was otherwise a fine morning despite rain in the forecast. The highway’s shoulder, generous in the early going would disappear completely for most of the rest of the day. fortunately, traffic was sparse, and most accommodating when vehicles passed us.

Mark and Ross drove the vehicle all the way to the final stopping point, The Hotel Paraiso Colonet just outside the town of Punta Colonet, another dusty working town with minimal paved roads.  From there, they rode back to meet the rest of the group doing the whole point-to-point ride. Rain which had been forecast for the early afternoon and evening, affected our ride with a light drizzle for the last half hour only.  

The hotel proved to be very quiet, and arguably the best made building in the whole community.  It had a restaurant, but no chef, so, after another beer, chips and nuts afternoon replenishment,  we ventured into town to find what was available for dinner, although nothing had jumped out at us when we first rode through the town. 

And it was Tony who let his Italian biases come out when we saw a sign for Benny’s Pizza. It turned out our dinner stop here was much better than expected–if you ever you are driving through, their house specialty pizza is one of the best pizzas you will ever have! We brought our own beer in, and Don and Tony, ever the wine aficionados on our tour, found some rosé at one of the few local stores that sold alcohol. We ate our fill, and drove back to the hotel for a good night’s sleep, again in a wonderfully quiet, dark setting just beyond the town limits.

Day 4: Punta Colonet to Misión Hotel Santa Maria, San Quintín, 84K

Friday, January 10: Contrary to how the previous day ended, the morning was clear and sunny, although, once again, cool. Mark’s recurring sciatic symptoms were enough for him to volunteer to drive to the next hotel destination, and dropping his laptop on the rock-paved parking lot just added to his day (It would fail to work properly for the rest of the trip, impairing the ability to keep this blog up to date). 

On the highway, five riders wearing several layers took on a very flat, straight ride, first through a significant agricultural area, spotted along the way with a few more small dusty towns.  The road shoulders were again minimal (and sometimes no existent) throughout this section of Hwy 1, while the towns provided enough traffic to make this ride more work than pleasure.

San Quintín was the most notable town we passed through, advertised as the hub of a tourist and recreational destination in the middle of Baja Norte, boasting lots of points of interest, restaurants and hotels nearby, yet itself looked like just another dusty Mexican town.

 At the end of the ride, and well off the highway, through a lovely boulevard of trees, the Misión Hotel Santa Maria was a welcome sight–it was situated behind the large greenhouses of Rancho Los Pinos, and right in the middle of an expansive, almost empty beach that stretched for miles in both directions. 

The rooms were great, complete with a balcony sitting area (that we hung our washing on!) and a lovely view of the water as we coiffed a couple of “recovery” beers in our rooms.

The beach was all but empty, but a few of us strolled out to touch the water with our toes as the sun was setting. Except for a few trucks owned by clamdiggers parked on the hard packed sand, we had the place to ourselves.

By sundown, we found the hotel’s onsite restaurant, where we had some standard choices, along with beer and our first margaritas of the trip. 

Day 5: San Quintín to El Sacrificio, 95K

Saturday, January 11: After an unremarkable night at the La Misión Hotel Los Pinos south of San Quintin, we set out just after 8AM from this beach property to return to Hwy 1 anticipating our longest and most demanding ride to date: 100k to a truck stop/RV park (called Loncheria el Descanso) that needed 1000m of climbing to get there. And we would be camping for the first time–yes, pulling out our tents and Thermarests to endure the elements!  And perhaps the cacti, the scorpions and the rattlesnakes too…

It was a lovely morning to ride.  The highway was again sparsely travelled, and there was minimal climbing needed to get to our lunch stop at El Rosarito, the day’s half-way point. John drove the van to a parking area near an outdoor restaurant, and rode back to meet the group to get some riding in before lunch. 

While most of the group was happy to take on lunch at a modest roadside restaurant, Mark decided to skip lunch, in favour of getting an early start to the significant climbing ahead, before the afternoon got too warm.  Ross seemed very willing to forego the 1000m of afternoon climbing, offering to drive so that John could ride the afternoon’s hilly section route. So while Ross shopped for fresh ice and beer after lunch, Mark got to within 1 km the end of the ride before Ross caught up to him in the van and picked him up, a point often repeated later (e.g., “Too bad Mark didn’t finish the ride”). 

 

Since the RV site we had planned on camping at was unexpectedly closed (Loncheria el Descanso), our evening’s destination would prove to be a restaurant/truck stop called Sacrificio, just 4k short of the RV campsite. No big deal–it would be cheaper, if not a bit more informal.

Sacrificio proved to be a great stop.  Since Mark and Ross were about an hour ahead of the rest of the group, they explored a dusty but well-travelled side road behind this truck stop, hoping to find some suitable camping site. Instead, though they quickly entered a photogenic valley of beautiful and myriad varieties of cactus, many of which were no doubt several centuries old.  They took some pictures of these beauties, but otherwise returned to the small restaurant just as the others arrived.

At Sacrificio, the family who lived there were wonderfully accommodating.  They allowed us to set up tents on their property, where they were scraping out a living serving truckers willing to stop for a meal.  The couple were likely in their forties, and had 4 kids, all of which helped in the restaurant, which doubled as their living room when no one was stopping by. 

The beat-up, weathered tools parked outside gave clues to the need to be a jack-of-all-trades to live out here in the desert: a grader, a forklift, a tractor, a plow, a pickup truck, a car, and even a hearse were randomly parked among small sheds and other equipment, which included cisterns, propane tanks, PVC pipes, pallets, mesquite firewood, fencing, a concrete mixer, and the like.

Inside the restaurant, though, it was pretty clear who ran the show.  The middle-aged mom was the family and restaurant cook, as well as likely the chief financial officer.  We watched her shrewdly negotiate–for hours!–with a (probably not coincidentally) overweight persistent purveyor of corner store sundries.  Meanwhile, the kids were all willing to engage in discussion with us–if only we were better at Spanish. We asked them about schooling–and were surprised to learn that a school bus picked them up daily to take them 50k to school.  Since they had wifi (which we overwhelmed while we stayed there), the kids were all pretty internet savvy.  (Hey, they just charged us 20 pesos for some evening access when they turn their generator on).

Come evening, the air temp outside cooled quickly, so we were grateful to be inside having a home cooked meal of chicken breast with rice, beans and vegetables.  For 20 pesos, we all bought some slow internet access for a couple of evening hours. So for Mark, it was difficult to keep up this blog up to date that night!

 

Since it still gets dark early here, and there was little else to do, other than read (what a concept!). we were all in bed by 8-8:30, each in our one man tents (and Mark in his van)–hoping to resist the plunging temperatures that evening. And plunge they did!

Day 6: El Sacrifcio to Misión Cataviña, 77k

Sunday, January 12: We had a cool, clear, and starry night in the high desert camping in the moonlight–it was nice.

 It was punctuated only with occasional vehicle passing by our truck stop, a brief serenade from some howling coyotes, and a friendly tent-to-tent chat (at 2AM!) among those who affected by John’s snoring (it was probably only the freezing temperatures that prevented a full-scale uprising, and kept John alive that night).

By 6:30 dawn was breaking, and by 7AM the stories of survival were well underway, especially after it was noticed that there was a layer of frost on the tents, the bikes, and the van’s windshield—it had clearly dropped below zero overnight!  Two other vans (from Quebec) were parked nearby overnight, and they had struggled with the cold as well.

Breakfast and a warm drink was in the cards for almost everyone except Mark, who had slept in the van. Since he was not a breakfast eater or coffee drinker, he was ready to set off on the day’s ride—a 77k high plain leg on Hwy 1 to another Misión hotel in the small truck-stop village of Cataviña.

While the rest of the crew had a home-cooked breakfast at Sacrificio, Mark left at 8:30 with 4 layers on, below a reflective jacket, given that the air temperature just a few degrees above zero.  Promisingly, the sun was beginning to climb over the horizon, but it would be 3 hours of riding before the first layer came off.

Today was another lovely ride.  The highway was smooth and mostly flat, with only occasional curves and modest undulations.  Traffic remained sparse all day, making the lack of a shoulder but a minor inconvenience. 

The day’s only challenge was a thermal headwind that had developed by midmorning, making the flat and downhill sections a little less rewarding.  And while most of the ride was over a long flat desert mesa, with many broad tabletop plateaus, the topography changed dramatically in the last 15k, where spectacular boulders, some graffitied, many as big as houses, became the dominant feature of the desert as they dwarfed the saguaro cactus forest.

Since it was a shorter ride than the previous day, and that there were no clear stopping spots listed, the plan was to push the whole distance without a lunch break, albeit with short stops every 20-30 minutes for water. Interestingly, there were several truck-style small restaurants along the way (some even offering wi-fi!), so 4 riders stopped for a quick bite. 

 

Of course, beer would wait to the end of the ride, which proved to be about 4 hours long. Although Ken drove the vehicle directly to the hotel in Cataviña, his out-and-back mileage to meet the crew was the longest of the day–perhaps because of a slow start in the cold for the rest of the riders.

The architecture of the Misión Hotel Cataviña was similar to its sister hotel outside of San Quintín, where we stayed just two nights before. It seems almost out of place here, given how few people live here; it had a modest unheated outdoor pool, a cozy bar, and a well-stocked restaurant. The rooms were comfortable and climate controlled. However, despite how expensive the rooms were, wifi was not included (30 pesos per hour, or 1GB for 240 pesos).

After a well-deserved shower, a few beers, and some snacks (Medjool dates, peanuts, potato chips and Tony’s cookies made the rounds), we had dinner in the hotel restaurant, with most enjoying either a single or a double shot margarita on ice.  After 6 days of riding, we were all pretty spent, and in bed by 9 AM.  We would all sleep much better in our climate-controlled environments.

Day 7: Rest day

Monday, January 13: It is nice to wake up without an imposed schedule to get ready to ride.  Since it was a sunny day, there was time for domestic stuff–everyone did some laundry, to dry in the courtyard, and breakfast was a Tony-crafted fruit salad, along with granola and/or some of Mark’s muesli.  Ross spent much of his time sorting out the nuances of his new Garmin tracking device; Ken borrowed one of Ross’s books (since he lost his Kobo), but promptly was seen napping outside;  and John led the rubber-gloved charge on bike servicing, cleaning and oiling chains, while resetting derailleurs where needed.

Having another dinner in the hotel’s restaurant allowed us to try other things on the menu.  Although Tony’s gut had been grumbling for a day or two, he ordered a burger with all the fixin’s…but did not get through it.  He left quietly to retire for the night.  We would get the full report the next morning.