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.
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.
