G-ForceJunkie

Ok, here we go. Baja. A word I first heard at about age 5 or 6. Rumaging though the garage I uncovered a framed photo of an off-road Taxi cab blasting down a dusty, dirt road, dirt and rocks spewing from under it with the front wheels off the ground after hitting a small jump. The year was aproximaly 1969, the race was the Baja 500, and the driver was my dad. 36 years later I find myself standing on the race course of the SCORE Baja 1000 waiting for our race bike to pull in for fuel and tires.

Friday Nov 11th: Supposed to have the day off work, naturaly some crap came up so I drag ass into work a 8am and finish stuff up, out of there by 10:30. I have everything prepared for the coming 2 weeks I won't be at the shop. Lists of what need to be done. Pre-printed purchase orders for product expected in that has to go to outside processings (polish, anodize, machine shop, etc) printed out and pinned on the bulletin board. Hoping to avoid pallets of stuff piled up around my tool box when I return (didn't happen, more on that later.
The previous week I had done a good job of getting all my gear together and the bike packed. If you have never planned to live off a bike for a couple of weeks, here are a few tips. Gather everything you think you need. Then cut the quanitys of everything in half. Then throw out 50% of what you got left out 'caus you probaly dont need it anyways. Unbelievable as it may seem, the rest of the world has to eat and do laundry as well so those services are available anywhere. I can write up a detailed list of what I took if anyone is interested for their future trips. The week before I had decided not to wear my Aerostitch Roadcrafter riding suit to Mexico...Too bulky, hot, and expensive. I went with my JR Balistic jacket I use of off-road and order a pair of First Geat HT Overpants. They were scheduled to arrive Wendsday. Tuesday evening I get a call that my pants were not shipped last thursday as they should have. Credit card declined. A quick call to find out they have the wrong experation date. Now I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, but at my work, if I get an order from a returning customer with the experation date is 8 months past, I don't try and run it. Logic says punch in the same card number with the experation date 1,2,or 3 years ahead and they always go through. As people get new cards, only the year of the experation date changes. Anyways, I fork over another $20 to get second day delivery so I will have them on Friday. Planned departure time is noon, hopefully I can avoid rush hour traffic down to San Diego . The pants arrive at about 3pm and I launch the loaded down Bumble Bee into commuter hell. You know its going to take a while when 3 hours into your 200 mile trip you are less than 100 miles from your starting point and your temp gauge is at 9 of 10 bars as you idle through the East LA interchange. I make it to my friends house in San Diego around 7:30pm and we get a bite to eat. I can highly recommend the City Deli in gay part of town, Hillcrest. Staying with the areas theme of diversity and acceptance, I chose a Black&White cookie for dessert.

Saturday Nov. 12: 8am and I make a run for the border! I cross into Mexico at the San Ysidro border crossing and head into the heart of Tijuana. If your new to Mexico, your in for a suprise. Or nervious breakdown, depending on your driving skills. I like to refer to it as "Combat Driving." Picture a roller derby, but with cars, taxi cabs, pedestrians, donkeys, and taco stands all barreling down one way streets full of potholes and no traffic laws. Luckaly for me, years of Combat Driving in the hellish greater Los Angeles freeway system has steeled my nerves, chilled the blood in my veins, and increased my vocabulary of profanities ten fold. Having no need for upholstery work, a new muffler, nor have my picture with a donkey painted like a zebra, I make short work of down-town TJ and break free south on highway 1 Libre. There are two freeways between TJ and Ensenada, Highway 1 Libre and Highway 1D. The D is a toll road that is like a modern USA freeway. The old Libre (free) Highway 1 is a two lane highway that winds through all the small towns between TJ and Ensenada. If you've ever done the "Rosarita to Ensenada fun bicycle ride", you were on the 1 Libre. I shoot south through Ensenada, Santo Tomas, San Vicente, Colonet, Vicente Guerrero, and finaly stops just south of San Quintin.

To be continued...

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G-ForceJunkie

Saturday Nov. 12 continued:

The terrain as you head south along the Mex 1 very much resembles the desert and foothills of Southern California or Arizona. Lots of dirt, rocks, scrub brush, cactus, etc. Legal speeds are painfully slow. The entire trip I never saw a single road over 80 km/hr which is about 50 MPH. Going through every town, or in any curvy area, speeds were typicaly 60 km/hr (37 mph) or 40 km/hr (25 mph). Needless to say, speeding is just a way of life down there. 60-65mph is about as slow as I could bring myself to do on the wide open highway, and I was constantly being passed by semi trucks. Around 4pm, with the sun falling fast, I had reached San Quintin, aprox 200 miles south of the border. A few miles south I hit up the Cielito Lindo Motel. It is located on the bay Bahia Santa Maria. The area has a unique history. In the late 1800's the English set up a wheat growing opperation in the area and build a large pier and grain grinding mill to process it. Years of drought doomed the project so it was abandoned. The old mill has been converted into a hotel and the pier a campground is near the old pier. The Cielito Lindo consists of several one story building containing six hotel rooms each, a reastraunt with a small bar which is also the hotel check in. Beer and a hotel key in one place, very handy. I talked the price from $45 US down to $30 US for a crappy room that someone who spoke better spanish could probaly get for $20. The room smelled damp, the furnishing havent changed since the 1950's (cloth covered lamp cords, etc) and the floor was a horrable linolium. But the shower was hot once I realised the hot and cold knobs were plumbed backwards, and I had electricity untill they shut the generator off at 10pm. For those who are night owls, a single candle and pack of matches were provided on the bed side table, which was scarred with numerious burn marks. Scared to pull back the comforter on the bed and know exactaly what I was sleeping on/with, I chose to use my sleeping bag on top. Had a fantastic meal at the reastraunt of black bean soup, carne asada enchaladas with rice and beans, all the chips and salsa I could eat and a cold Tecate cervesa for a grand total of 120 pesos, about $11 US. Under the cover of darkeness I answered the question I had been wondering about since i arrived. Yes a BMW R1150GS with Adventure crash bars will fit through the hotel door. My trusty steed at my side, I drifted off to sleep.

Sunday November 13th: I awake around 8:30 pm, pack the bike up, return the hotel key to the bar, and I'm off. My general plan for this trip was to shoot south and slowly work my way back up to Ensenada seeing the sites along the way so I decide to check out the the other camp grounds/hotel in the area , the old pier, and the old mill. I make it to the Old Pier hotel after about 4 miles on a rough dirt road and find it borded up with a closed for renovation sign posted. Oh well, lets find the Old Mill, it should be a few miles up the road. Here is where the "adventure" begins. The road within 100 yards turns into a sandy, whooped out, rutted trail about 10 feet wide. Now I have been riding off-road in the desert and sand for over 15 years so the proper technique is not foreigen to me: Keep your speed up, weigh back, pinch the bike with your legs/knees, and keep your grip loose and let the front end flop and wonder around and steer with gentle weight transfers and small suggestions to the handlebars. It works wonderfully on a 250 pound Honda XR on knobby tires. Not so wonderfully on a 650 pound BMW on street tires, at least not at the speeds I was comfortable going. Needless to say it gets out of shape and spits me off within a half mile.

To be continued...

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G-ForceJunkie

Sunday November 13th continued:

Great, this ought to be fun, picking a fully loaded GS up in the sand. With all my strength I manage to right the bike without unloading everything. A quick once over reveals nothing too damaged, the right system case poped out out of the notch on the passenger peg and put a small crack in the mount. The road looked much worse ahead so I decided to turn around and head back to the highway. I run up the highway 5 or 10 miles and take the turnoff for the Old Mill. The road is dirt and rocky, but well worn and pretty easy to maintain 30 mph or so before the windshield starts vibrating too much. Note to self, ditch the Tobinators before doing alot of off road work. Where the road meets the ocean it is actualy the launch ramp for the numerous fishing boats that work the area. The Old Mill has been converted to a hotel/restraunt/bar, and across the street is the Old Mill Campground. Pretty nice place right on the water, would be perfect to back a trailer or RV right into one of the slots that line the shore. I take some pictures, decide I've had enough of the sand roads to try and find the old english cementary, so I head back to the highway. As I said before my plan was to work my way north sightseeing along the way, but I realized there was not a whole lot to see. Mexico doesnt really have many "attractions", and the historicaly intersting places I wanted to see like the Old Mill, Cementary, missions, etc were difficult to find or anti-clamatic when I did. I think my brain was still in 6th gear from the busyness of modern life in the USA. I needed to slow down, and have fun. So thats when I decided to not have any plans at all. I can't be dissapointed if I have no plans or expectations. This idea was pretty liberating and set a much better mood for the rest of the trip. I headed back north on the highway with no intended destination, a full tank of gas, and a smile on my face.
Along the way I stopped at a couple of the small towns to buy a soda or look at the marketplaces. My impressions of these small towns were two-fold. On one hand it looks pretty delapadated and depressing. I almost felt sorry for the people stuck in that situation. Then I felt stupid for showing my ignorance. As your average, middle class America, anything less than perfectaly paved streets, manicured lawns, and late model vehicles seems "poor." Fact is most of the world is probaly more like these little towns that my suburban idea of "normal." On the other hand It was facinating to see what these people were doing with what they had. I didnt encounter any beggers or bums, people ran buisnesses in the worst conditions and appeared to survive at it, I saw people taking pride in their old beat up clunkers of cars by washing them with a bucket and a rag in the middle of a dirt parking lot, children going to school, etc. Maybe its what you do with what you have that makes you a good person, not simply what you have.
I pulled in behind a red Goldwing just south of Colonet and rode with it through the twistys up to San Vicnete where we both pulled off for fuel. The Goldwingers were a nice Canidian couple that were finishing up a 2 week trip all the way down to Cabo/La Pas and back. We chatted for a while and watched as several trucks and buggys pre-running the Baja 1000 came into town. The Canidans were headed to La Bufadora and I had a general idea to sleep somewhere around Ensenada. As I neared the turnoff for La Bufadora, I figured, hell, why not, lets check it out. I made it to the "blow hole" around 3pm and found the Goldwing in the parking lot. Here comes the hassle about adventure riding. What in the hell do you do with all your crap when you want to leave the bike unattended, especialy in a touristy area that probaly have pick-pockets and other such people looking for easy pickings. I brought a PacSafe wire mesh security thing for my duffelbag that contained all my clothes, I left my Thermarest open to be stolen, and lugged my backpack and tank bag with me. I need a better system. If you have never been to La Bufadora, it is a naturaly made rock formation at the south end of the bay the Ensenada sits on. As the waves come in, they are funnled into and up a hole in the rocks where it shoots up in spectacular fashion much like a geyser. The walking road to the blow hole is lined with shops selling all sorts of tourist trinkits, food, pharmacys, etc I grab a $2 USD bag of churros as I am starving having eaten only a powerbar earlier and some oatmeal for breakfast. For the record, a quarter pound of sugar, lard, and dough is not the best thing to fill an empty stomach with. Having no need for poor quality silver jewlery, Viagra, or velvet paintings of Elvis or 2 Pac, I return to the bike and head off. There are numerious campgrounds on the pensiula to la bufadora, however the couple I looked at were pretty sparce and setup more so for trailers and RV's, not tenters. On the way back to the highway I pass the Hotel Bufadora perched on the hill next to the road. It looks promising so I check it out and $35 USD later I get myself a room for the night. It is a 3 story building that they are working on renovating. The top and middle floor appear to be finished, the rooms on the lower floors are still gutted and had no doors on them. I am happy they have a gated parking lot, not to mention the bike is not visable from the road. This is good, I doubt I could make the stairwell on the GS to get it to my second floor room. I strip off all my gear and bags and head down the road to find dinner. I stop off at a road side tamale stand and get a 4 tamales at eighty cents USD each. They only have odd flavored fruit juice in cans, so I make a second stop at a local market for a liter of Coke. $3.25 USD and 10 pesos later, i am stuffed and ready for bed. While the room was much nicer than the one the night before, the bed looked a little sketchy. Perhaps it was the painted cinder blocks that made up the non-existent box springs. Needless to say I slept in my sleeping bag again and was out by 8pm. Good thing because the house across the street had roosters to wake me up at 4am.

To be continued...

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G-ForceJunkie

Monday November 14th:

The roosters wake me up aroud 4am, I put my ear plugs in and went back to sleep untill about 8. The ABS on my BMW had been inopperable and showing the idiot lights on the dash since the tipover in the sand so I decide to head into Ensenada and find an internet cafe so I can get the ABS reset procedure off the net. I find a place downtown claiming to be "the fastest internet in town" but they apparentaly are on Mexican time...supossed to be open at 9am, but it was still closed at 10am. I wait around for a half an hour to no avail, so off I go to find another one. I find a small hole-in-the-wall internet shop on the main drag by the ocean and get a dial up connection for $1 per hour. Having spent some time in Ensenada before, I have no desire to hit up the touristy spots and decide by noon to just head on into San Felipe. Half way there I see the turn off to Mike's Sky Ranch and figure, what the heck, lets check it out. Its a good 20 or so miles of increasingly difficult dirt road but the GS manages pretty well. Its my first reall serious dirt ride on the GS and while heavy it was capable even with the street orianted Tourance tires on it, although the going was pretty slow. I make it to Mike's and run into Travis Pastrana who was up there prerunning his Suzuki for the race. I find out there is no rooms available and I don't want to camp in the boonies alone so I decide I got to make it back out to the highway before it gets dark. Its 3:30pm and I got about an hour of light left. I make it to the highway as its getting dark with only one minor tipover in a sandy section about half way down. I hook up with a race team pulling a truck and a toyhauler who are doing about double the speed limit and follow them into San Felipe. Its around 6pm when I roll into down town San Felipe tired and hungry and not in the mood to "rough it" so I pull into the first nice looking hotel I see. Its a small 10 room hotel called Georges, but it looks new and there is a box van in the parking lot with several KTM's and a couple Honda XR650's parked next to it. I pull up and 4 guys roll out of the room in front of me and we start chatting. They can't believe the GS made it to Mike's, and tell me they are there prerunning for the 1000. Turns out it is Jonah Street and his friends from Washington state, the BMW rider I was pitting for! Small world some times. They invite me to dinner and after I get cleaned up we hit a steak house right next to Georges. Topped off with steak, a potato, and couple of Pacificos, I make it to bed around 10pm.

To be continued...

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G-ForceJunkie

Tuesday, 15th:

In the morning, the guys left to go do some more pre-running around Mike's, I wouldnt see them untill the race. My plans for the day were to wander around San Felipe and check out the town, which is exactaly what I did. Its a neat little town based on fishing and tourism. The beach front Malecon is lined with eatteries featuring great seafood that was caught that morning. I hate seafood, so I opted for the 2 carne tacos with rice and beans on the side, 25 pesos. Beers were a dollar. During the day you can watch the fishermen tend to their boats, and when the tide goes out in the evening, they haul the boats to shore with a pickup truck equipted with fat tires and a tow truck type A-frame crane on in the bed. The shore north and south of town are lined with campgrounds and motels. Several cater to US and Canadian retirees and you can find their rigs lined up on the shore. Other places rent Palapas, little thatched huts on the beach. With GPS cordinateds in hand for our pit location, I decided to scout out the are. I headed south from San Felipe along a two lane paved road. Pavement was pretty good, however you got to watch for the Vados. In Mexico, they cant afford to build bridges over every stream or culvert. So they just pave down into, and back up it creating basicaly a huge ditch. At moderate speeds it is no big deal, but hitting one at speed without warning can really ruine your day, as the numerious skid marks, white crossed on the died of the road, and occational overturned vehicle frequentaly remind you. About an hour south of SF, I founds myself within 6 miles of our pit location. A few miles east of the highway was Laguna Percebu, an ocean side camp area that had a restraunt and bar. 6 miles west was aprox. mile marker 253 of the Baja 1000 race course, and out pit #5. With no plans, I spend the next two day bumming around the San Felipe area, on whole day in my hote room watching HBO with a bad case of Turista, better know as Montazuma's Revenge. I was carefull of what I ate and drank, but I guess it caught up with me.

Thurday 17th:

Met up with the rest of the ADV. riders who where manning the pits at Rice & Beans in San Felipe at 1pm. The group consisted of a half a dozen truck, two towing rv trailers, and everyone with some sort of dirtbikes. Another GS1150ADV rider showed up as well, however his clutch slave cylinder was leaking bad so we loaded it up onto an empty trailer for the haul to the pits. The caravan to the turnoff near Laguna Percebu was uneventfull, however the 6 mile sandy road to the pits loomed ahead. I offloaded most of my gear into on of the pickups and set off. The first mile or so was not too bad, but it go steadly softer and more difficult as we progressed. The ruts and washboard was bad enought to keep your speed down, but that made handling the sand almost imossable. 4 miles in I had fell at least a dozen times and sucked my camelback dry and was exhausted. One of the 4x4 trucks took pity on me and offered to let one of their guys ride my bike in and could hitch a ride in the truck. Did'nt have to twist my arm with an offer like that! I forgot who rode my bike in, but he had just been to a Jimmy Lewis school and was supposed to be excelent in the sand. When he fell twice in the first 100 yards his friends commented "damn, it must be worse than it looks!) No $h!t sherlock, I'm not an amature when it comes to riding off road! We made it to the the pit area about an hour before sunset and set up camp. A couple of the trucks towing trailers got stuck in the sandy soil and had to be dragged out with the two best tow vehicles we had: A 4x4 duley with decent offroad tires, and an H2 with a lift kit and huge tires. Note to self, offroading in baja REQUIRES big tires, 4x4, and preferably locking diffs. We set up camp, got a fire going, and a couple of the guys in charge of dinner got to work. We had made arangements ahead of time to all pitch in money and let they guys with the big trucks and trailers haul down the food and beverages. In short order steaks and shrimp from San Felipe were on the grill.

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G-ForceJunkie

With a full belly and a few beers in me, we spent the rest of the evening sitting around a camp fire bullshitting and bench racing. I retired to my tent around 11pm and slept till 8am.


Friday 16th:

I awoke to the sounds of dirtbikes and prerunner trucks. We were at aproximatly mile 250 of the race, so our bikes would not get to up untill around 11am. Our main bike was the #12x factory HP2 ridden by Johna Street, Jimmy Lewis, Dave Donatoni, and Beau Hayden. Also, we were pitting for two Mexican priveteer teams also on HP2's: #315x riden by Kape Vega, "Santana", and "Cono" and #252 ridden by Sunny Irvine, Alex Visciano, Muguel Ley, and "Diablo." We set up our pit area, laid out all the tools and got everyone organized. My experience with roadracing gave me a good sense of what needs to happen, and how to do it for an efficent pit stop so we spent a good hour assigning jobs and doing dry runs. We got it down pretty well, pretty damn good I would say for non-professionals throwen together at short notice. Pretty much on schedule the 12x bike came in. Jonah had a flat front so we changed both wheels, I fueled the tank with the dry break system, and others cleaned his goggles and got him a drink. Halfway through the pit stop, the 315x bike showes up! Crap! We were expecting him to be a good half hour behind! It caught us off guard, but we managed to shove a KTM off its stand and get the BMW up. Rear wheel was replaced, the POS factory rear air shock was replaced with the factorys replacement Ohlins unit we had, and gas tank fueled up. Needless to say it was a frantic 10 minutes, but everyone pitched in, did their assigned jobs, got the riders back in the race. Now it was time to sit back, relax, and wait for the trophy trucks! If you have never been near one, its hard to describe the incredable speed and power they have. Standing 4 feet away from a 5000 pound truck with 3 feet of suspension travel blast past you at 80 MPH across the top of 3 foot whoops is amazing! Its like trying to describe a Top Fuel Dragster to someone...there is just not words that can express the feeling of 8000 horsepower shaking your internal organs...You have to experience yourself to appriciate it. We spent the rest of the day watching the other classes filter by. I have got to give props to the class 11 guys, they run STOCK VW BUGS!
By late afternoon I was ready get going, but not ready to try and ride my fully loaded bike back to the highway. Luckaly the 4x4 duley was empty so we loaded it into the bed for the ride to the highway. Simple enough...untill about halfway to the highway I realize I dont have my tank bag! I took it off and set it on a table while we loaded the bike. Crap, daylight is fading, My clear glasses, money, and passport are in in the tank bag, and I can't ask the guys to make another one hour round trip to get my stuff! They say "adventure" is what happens when your plans go to hell, i guess I was getting an adventure! We decide to go the couple more miles to Laguna Percebu' with hopes of finding someone to watch my bike and gear while I went back to get my tankbag. We roll up on the Palapas and find some college age guys hanging out drinking beer and I get them to keep an eye on my bike and gear. The tides out so we do a few obligitory dougnut on the beach and head back for the pits. Its dark by the time we get back, and now I'm faced with a 6 mile walk to the road, or hope to hitch a ride. There is a steady flow of vehicles traveling up and down the sand wash so I manage to stop a red Ford Ranger and ask for a lift to the highway. The two guys were local mexicans who were pitting for a friend of theirs. The truck bed and cab was stuffed with parts, tools, tires, and fuel cans. They clear out small section in the extra cab and I wedge myself. Little did I know, I was in for the ride of my life.

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G-ForceJunkie

We set off down the road. Now remember its a washed out, rutted, sandy hellhole of a road about 6 miles long. It took us 1/2 hour in the duely which works out to about 12 MPH. My drivers are bickering to each other in spanish, I get the jist of the conversation in that they are not sure they will make it to the next check point before their driver. Apparentaly they just make this pit stop before their driver came in as he was makeing better time than anticipated. Perhaps it is the way they always drive...perhaps it was their hast to get to the next pit stop. Reguardless, we were flying. Long story short, we made the highway in 14 minutes! My arms were pumped up and burning from holding on to a door handle and under the passenger seat to keep from being knocked out on the roof of the cab. I am sure I was white as ghost as I spilled out of the back of the Ranger onto the highway. I quick thanks and they sped off into the night. And there I found myself standing on the side of the highway, in the pitch black and quietness of the desert, my heart still pounding from the shear terror minutes ago. Its about a mile or two to the beach and my motorcycle, so I head off in the direction of the ocean. Luckay I had a small LED light on my tank bag for reading maps at night. Without I would have been navigating by sound alone as it was pitch black. There are not many street lights in mexico, only in the big citys. I'm about 5 minutes into my walk when I see headlights coming down the dirt road behind me. I debate on flagging him down or just keep walking. I decide to flag him down so I stop, turn around, and hold out my arm. A white pickup comes to a stop and the first thing I see is POLICIA emblazoned on the side of the truck in large blue letters. Two stern looking mustachiod dudes in uniforms occupy the cab. Crap. Just my luck, mear hours from leaving and I'm going to get rolled by the local police out trolling for gringo race fans. I figure I got nothing to loose, if they want my money or me dead, they are going to do it. I approach the truck and with my best "Boy and I excited to see you!" face say "Hey guys! Can I get a ride to the beach, my friends are waiting for me!" The one cop turn to the other...he shrugs and the cop turns back to me. If gives me a good 2 3 second look over. Apparentaly I didnt look worth killin' or robbin' because all he says is "get in the back, sit on the spare tire" in broken english. Nice! Perhaps it was my week without shaving scruffy apperance. Once again we hit the road at warp speed, I'm beginning to believe its the norm down here. We pull into the camp and I jump out and wave to my new "friends" and scurry off into the night. They had bigger fish to catch, I'm sure the bar that had american techno music thumping in it was full of drunk gringos ripe to plant drugs on as the San Felipe cops have been known to do. I pack up my bike and get the hell out of there ASAP. Back in San Felipe I stop at the AM/PM-Pemex station and fuel up, get a soda, and down a couple of Cliff bars. I broken down buggy team is replacing a transmission in the parking lot so its busseling with activity. Most of the hotels in town were now booked up with racers so that, on top of being sick of mexican food, I decided to make a run for the border and back to the good old USA. I called a friend in San Diego and made sure they were going to be home and hit the road at 7pm. Now they tell you not to drive at night in Mexico. Donkeys, cattle, etc wonder out onto the warm highway at night. Also, the lack of shoulders on the roads causes problems for broken down vehicles. The norm is to just leave it on the road...but they are nice enough to "warn" you by building a pile of rocks, sticks, and bushes on the road ahead of it. Call it a Mexican traffic cone. Throwing caution into the wind I struck out into the night ...

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G-ForceJunkie

"Its 300 miles to San Diego, I got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarrettes, its dark, and I'm wearing sunglasses...Hit it!"

Not quite as dramatic, but the run for the border was on. Northbound out of San Felipe, I had a great view of the vehicles still on the race course off on my left, their lights bouncing from sky to earth as the terrain beat the hell out of them. I made it through the military check point with out too much hassle, on questions of "where are you coming from" and "where are you going." I'm sure dealing with thousands of gringos due to the race they had their fill of non-spanish speakers. I decided to continue north and exit Mexico at the Mexicali/Calexico crossing. It ment less miles in Mexico and I got to explore a new road. The Mex 5 runs north along the coast and finaly into Mexicali. As you get to the tip of the Sea of Cortes, all you can see off to the east is miles and miles of mud flats. I'm sure they are interesting in the daylight, at night the gave off a spooky glow off the moonlight in a sea of inky blackness. Traffic was steady, the influx of racers and support vehicles creating a steady flow of north and south bound traffic. Reaching Mexicali I was greated with civilization! I have got to spend some time in Mexicali some day, it is as modern of a city as anything in the USA. Fast food restraunts, auto dealerships, curbs, stop lighted intersections, sidewalks, etc! You see, when you hear about American companys building plants south of the borded, Mexicali is where they go. All the major automotive manufactures as well as other large industrys have plants in the city, herefore alot of money has been sunk into the citys infrastructure to modernize it. The border crossing was a non-event and for the first time in a week I was back on US soil. I was hungry of some good old USA food and ready for a break so I made a pit stop at a Carl Jr. I do not believe a western bacon cheeseburger has ever tasted so good. I suited back up in my jacket and electric vest and headed west towards San Diego on the 8. I never realized San Diego county has so many mountains, but the 8 weaves it ways up and down several 4k foot ranges, the temperature dropping cooler and cooler at every pass. If anyone has ever considered travelingon a motorcycle, proper gear for the area is manditory. Without my electric vest I would have been beyone miserable as today ride spanned temps from 80's to 40's. I rolled through Alpine for a splash of gas and made San Diego a little after midnight. A bike with an 8 gallon tank sounded good at the time...after a 5 hour run my sore ass dissagrees. After an overnight in San Diego I made the ride back to Los Angeles the next day. Back at home experienced the oddest feelings. Everything seemed wierd for a few days. It was the opposit of the first few days in Mexico, it was like my head was at a different speed from the world. Eveything seemed chaotic and fast. I had the strangest reaction to my house and all my "stuff." Is this "stuff" what actualy makes me happy? It seemed trivial the importance placed on material items. Seeing how so many had so little, and yet appeared happy was an eye opener. What started out as a vacation turned into a little dose of reality. And I liked it.

Mike

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Jeff

Thanks for the well written story. Sounds like quite the adventure. My friends and I were just talking about the Baja races this past Saturday night. I sent them the link to read.