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
