Upper Baja And the Gulf of California
Upper Baja And The Gulf Of California
Traveli:
THERE’S AN OLD SAYING that once you've been to Mexico you’ll go there again some time. And many times I have left there depressed and never wanting to return, yet I always manage another trip.
There’s something intriguing about the land across the border, particularly Baja California. It’s probably the fact that it is still so undeveloped, actually a frontier. And there’s always the adventure of riding to places on your motorcycle that are inaccessible by car.
It’s the border towns that are depressing. They’re dirty and dust is in the air as thick as fog. Vehicles on the streets look as if they were resurrected from a junk yard. Loudspeakers blare day and night and the streets are in horrible condition.
The trip this time is down to the Gulf of California. We crossed at Mexicali, but crossing at Tijuana is just as easy except that you have to follow Mexican Route 2 to Mexicali through some rugged mountains and often fog there gets so thick you can hardly see your handlebars. From Mexicali, there are 125 miles of pavement (except a spot or two where it's washed out) to the quiet town of San Felipe on the Gulf.
San Felipe is the starting-off place for trips farther into Baja. It’s by no means modern; there isn’t a single paved street in town, but the inhabitants are friendly and eager to answer questions about points beyond, even if they're incorrect.
We had no ambitious intentions of riding to La Paz or anywhere near it. We merely wanted to relax a few days in the
Gulf sunshine, explore the environs and glean whatever knowledge possible about deeper penetration of the peninsula. For these purpose, we made camp in one of the $ 1 cabanas.
To the west of San Felipe is a dry lake followed by a range of mountains. The sea level areas are desert, but the mountain tops trap some rain, and pine trees grow there. There are even reports of a lake in the mountains, but attempts to find it have, so far, been unsuccessful. It doesn’t show on the map and the directions anyone can give you are just too ambiguous to follow.
South of San Felipe is a “road” hardly deserving of the name. Nevertheless, we took it. Any motorcyclist planning a ride to Baja wants to know about the roads, among other things, and since learning these things was one of the objectives of my trip, a description is in order:
First, they have no names or numbers that are posted anywhere. The start of the road out of San Felipe is actually not bad. There’s some washboard, for which some motorcycles, including my heavy Zundapp, are just not properly sprung. The machine and rider shudder from end to end until you think your teeth will pulverize. Of course, you can always slow down, but that brings up another problem.
As in most desert areas, there’s a lot of sand. Winds pick up the sand and deposit it in peculiar formations known as drifts or dunes. But the wind doesn’t know that it’s not supposed to build a sand dune on the road, so it tries. There are just enough vehicles on the road, though, to keep the dune from getting out of hand, so what results are stretches of soft spots that are miserable for motorcycling.
You soon learn that momentum is the important factor to get through without flopping. Of course, a flop in the sand is probably the softest flop you'll ever make. There’s no chance for “road rash" and, unless a heavy machine lands on you, you can hardly get hurt. The stuff is like powder. The worst part is digging out.
Farther south, the road cuts through some barren hills. They’re rocky though.
We made an immediate hit with the youngsters who had never seen a sideca and rocks are strewn from one side of the road to the other and all along its banks. The rocks average the size of a grapefruit, but they’re sharp, and a flop on them probably means a nasty wound. It's this type of riding where high boots and gloves afford invaluable, though not complete, protection. Leather pants would be a big help in protecting your hide, but the temperatures there nearly forbid it. The rule here is to take it easy, and be certain your front brake is properly adjusted, and, on this point, I must digress a moment.
Coming down steep slopes covered with loose rocks, gravel, or sand, the rear brake is virtually useless. It locks at the slightest touch. It’s the front brake that you must rely on, so it needs enough adjustment to be effective, yet it can’t have too much. If the rear wheel locks, you can often recover, but when the front one stops, you're bound to hit the dirt with any two-wheeler. Furthermore, riding on rough roads makes it necessary to have as much grip as possible on the handlebars. A rut or a rock can knock the front wheel into an undesired direction without enough force from the helm to oppose it.
This kind of riding requires three or four fingers on the grip, even while pulling on the front brake. Therefore, I keep the adjustment loose enough to pull in the lever nearly half-way with one or two fingers before any effect is noticed, and, unless you have strong convictions otherwise, it’s a good place to start an adjustment, and worth a try. Regardless of the degree of perfection of your brake adjustment or your riding ability, no unnecessary chances should be taken in Baja. Communications are virtually nonexistent.
From San Felipe to the next “town” some 52 miles away takes about three hours or an average of 17 mph. The best time is just over 20 mph. Therefore, it’s called a ”15 to 20 mph” road. You could easily spend eight hours making the trip, though, particularly if you visit any of the lagoons along the way.
About five miles out from San Felipe is the turnoff to the first lagoon, called Laguna Percebu, but the ride there from the road is a real enduro, at about 10 mph. Fortunately, there’s a little shelter there for over-nighters. and the rocky shore is teeming with clams. In less than an hour you can fill a gallon pail with them, but. unless you don’t mind stomach cramps, eat just a few!
There are fish off shore, including corvina and totuaua, but a boat of some sort is necessary to get to them. This brings up a point about the peculiar tides along the Gulf. When they go out, they really go out, nearly out of sight! So, at any lagoon, you can expect to see boats beached or moored a long way out, but the important point is don't make camp just anywhere along the beach or you’re liable to wake up in the middle of the night with the tide lapping at your sleeping bag.
Pushing on past Percebu we passed several lagoons, and finally covered the 52 miles to Puertecitos, described by Harle Stanley Gardner as “. . . where civilization ends.” Actually, it’s not that desolate. There are even a few' cabanas there, a restaurant. a gas station, and a landing strip. From here south, though, flying is in the ordinary way.
Beyond Puertecitos, the road is not only rocky, but generously endow'ed with chuck holes the size of your gas tank and larger. They always seem to be just around a blind curve or just over the crest of a hill where you don’t see them until you’re in them. All this sort of thing makes going tough on man and machine. It’s particularly hard on alloy rims. After 100 miles of this type of riding, my front rim was so bent I didn’t know' what kept the inner tube from bulging out. There’s about 50 miles of this stuff to the next stop, called “Okies’ Landing.” We didn’t actually go that far, what with my rim in such bad condition. We were assured, though, that gasoline w'as available there as well as good fishing. It’s on the Bay of San Luis Gonzaga. From there, it’s another 50 miles to the Bay of Los Angeles where there is also good fishing, and water warm enough for lobster. Puertecitos is too cold for lobster, but pompana and other warm water species are not unknowm there.
It’s only about 150 miles then from San Felipe to Los Angeles Bay, and it can be made in one long day. Gas is available about every 50 miles, though it gets more expensive each stop. Roughly, it’s 25b a gallon in San Felipe, 50b in Puertecitos. 75b at Okies’ Landing, and so on. Food and drink are also available, but the level of sanitation and hygiene is so low that only the hearty escape some intestinal disorders after exposure to the food. It’s possible to build up an immunity to their variety of germs, but it takes weeks. Some pills are also available with varying degrees of immunization ability. One solution is to bring your own food, but this, too, has limitations on a motorcycle. One of our party brought Metrecal.
The important thing, I believe, is to have a machine as light, yet as rugged as possible. A moto-cross variety is a good example. Two-stroke singles are an excellent choice. A 72-tooth rear sprocket is unnecessary, though 62 should be right.
As attractive as the upper gulf section of Baja w'ith all its lagoons is, it is undeniably desert. Tor many miles in any direction, not a single plant can be seen growing, and, at best, there is only cactus. Very prevalent is the cerio tree, a cactus breed peculiar to upper Baja. The tall saguaro grows there, but is not plentiful. And where there is desert, there are winds, and when the wind blows in Baja, it’s like the tide going out; it goes to extremes. A shelter can block the brunt of the wind, but there’s no escape from the ensuing dust. It gets into everything, and I mean everything. You chew it for days afterwards. And it sometimes blows for days. It was during one of these dust storms that we left with the usual discouraged feeling.
We’ve heard how nice it is in Southern Baja. Below Santa Rosalia are tropical lagoons lined by palms and surrounded by groves of wild banana trees. There, fresh water runs out of the hills and fruit falls from the trees begging to be eaten. Seafood, too, is overabundant. In short, it’s a tropical paradise.
Reportedly, there is a ferry service from Guaymas on the mainland to Santa Rosalia running as frequently as twice weekly. 'There are good roads all the way to Guaymas, which, itself, is only about a day’s ride from Mexicali, and Conception Bay is but a short ride to the south of Santa Rosalia. Hopefully, that will be my next trip to Baja.
ADRIAN ABEL
