San Juanico

What a beautiful place. I'm sitting at the famous Scorpion Bay Hotel/ Campground, having huevos mexicanos con frijoles y arroz (rice and beans). After leaving Loreto, I decided to head to the Pacific side of Baja to meet up with the movie crew. I dodged cows, donkeys, horses and goats for around 4 hours to get here.

The new road from the highway is still under construction, so it was washboards and dirt for 40 kilometers. Lots of fun. The bike only tried to seriously climb around in front of me one time, but giving her a bit more gas, she straightened right out again. What a fun ride. When I reached actual paved road, I was a bit relieved, but a bit disappointed all at the same time. from there, it was a quick sprint into town, shortly before sunset.

As soon as I pulled into town, I could tell things were different here. The beauty of the setting sun over the south facing bay, mild wind, the salty air, shrimp boats silhouetted against the skyline, and an indescribable happiness that overtook me. I was all smiles under my helmet. I pulled up to a small store for dinner supplies, and before I even had my helmet off, a carload of locals pulled up. An old man got out and walked straight to me, hand extended in greeting, and a big smile on his face. "Buenas tardes amigo." he said. "Bienvenido a San Juanico."

Bought a chunk of mozzarella cheese, went next door for freshly made hot tortillas, and headed to the "malecon," which constisted of a block of streetlights and a sidewalk. I asked the first lady that walked by for a recommendation on a camp spot, and was immediately invited to spaghetti dinner and a free camp spot in their yard, a shower, and a movie, followed by "pancakies" for breakfast. Mary-Ann, DD, and Leo. Good people from Temecula, California. After pankakies, they loaded up and drove down to the point at San Gregorio for surfing.

I dinked around until noon, washing clothes and repairing a leaky therma-rest, then hit the beach on the bike, loaded with fly rods and swim trunks. This section of beach is famous for riding on, and I see why. Doing 75mph south, I was passed by two guys on Honda dirt bikes like I was standing still. They would scream down the beach, then cut sharply up the side of the dunes, half sliding sideways up the hill, then do a quick turn downhill and come screaming back down to the beach. followed by a wheelie. Yeah, he's good...

I spent the afternoon fly-fishing the surf. Leo drove back down the beach in the style of "The gods must be Crazy," sitting in the backseat with his arms crossed, getting out of his Suzuki Samurai and running along side of it, and standing on top of his surfboard mounted to the roof rack. I made it up to 85 mph on the beach on the ride back. More shrimp for dinner! Cant get enough of those camarrones.

They left at sunrise thismorning to go home yo California, but Leo said I could stay at his place and camp as long as I wanted. I joked that I'd see him in febuary when he gets back. His reply was, "Hey, no problem!"

Now, I'm sitting and waiting for the film crew to pull into town. If I dont catch up with them, oh well, I'll work my way north toward home.

New Years in Loreto

After being in the second biggest city in Mexico, Guadalajara, for two weeks, I had been craving coastline again. When the ferry pulled into La Paz with it's palm lined streets and sailboats and taco stands, on the beautiful Sea of Cortez, I cannot say I was in any kind of hurry to get back on the road and leave. The only thing I had to fight with is daylight, because as I have mentioned before, the Cardinal Rule of Mexico is NEVER EVER DRIVE AT NIGHT! Especially on a motorcycle. So off I went, heading north.

I reached the Sierras de los Gigantes, which has a special beauty that rivals any mountain range in the world. Quite possibly one of my favorite sections of road on the trip, as many motorcyclist may tell you, because of the view, the hills, the curves, the sheer massiveness and raw beauty that the mountains contain. I was loving it. The bike was running perfect (minus the massive oil leak needing constant attention), and I just hummed through corners, throwing the handlebars into each turn. I was looking forward to stopping in Juncalito again, Just at the base of the mountains right on the beach. This is where several weeks before I had stayed with Todd and Lyn at their beach front house, soaking in the morning sunrises while waist deep in the ocean, flycasting for whatever I could pull in. As I rode the bike down the boulder-strewn road, I grew more and more excited about camping out and finally getting some more fishing in.

I went to check on Todd and Lyn's place, as they are waiting out the Baja winds back in the Bay Area. Guys, the place looks safe and sound! After, I pulled right up to the beach, parked the bike, and proceeded to chat up a guy from Montana on holiday with family. Looked back at the bike, and the rear tire was flat. I was only slightly worried though. I had planned for such an occasion, packing tire irons and spare tube, plus a mini compressor. Just another part of the trip. I decided to set up camp and relax, knowing it would be dark soon. Not too long into unpacking, up walks this young dude just cruising around. Drew. He says he has a tire patch kit, and off he goes to get it. Drew is a pretty young buck, and has been living in his parents house in Juncalito for several weeks, solo. Just hangin out, livin the dream.

Shortly thereafter, a couple of BMW GS Adventures pulled up, piloted by two Canadians. They were true Baja vagabundos, having no real schedule, camping out, living the good life. Kenn and Glenn. We soon discovered that this was the night of the passing of Kenn's youth. Tomorrow was Kenn's 30th birthday. A beer run was quickly organized in Drews 1960's pickup back to his pad, where beer on ice was waiting for us. We loaded beer in our pockets, dried cactus for firewood into the truck bed, and rambled back down the boulder laden beach road. Glenn had gathered up a nice stash of dried palm leaves while we were gone, and the fire was running hot. Shortly after, a couple of chicks from Oregon on a kayak adventure joined us, and it was an official beach party. The bike would have to wait till tomorrow.

I had planned on fishing during sunrise, but when I woke up at 5:00, the wind was already howling. The surf was crashing into the beach at a high rate of speed. Fly fishing was impossible. Back to bed I went. When I woke up again, I inflated the tire with my compressor, killing the battery. I took the bike over to Lloyd's place. Lloyd has a KLR as well, and sympathized with my troubles. he gave me a jump from his pickup truck, gave me some tire patches, and on my way I went.

Made it about 25 kilometers. I had just passed this semi truck, coming down a hill and whizzing by him at a good cut. I noticed a wobble like I hadn't felt before, took a quick glance backwards at my back tire, and saw it running near flat. I had to get off the road quick. Semi breathing down my neck, a steep drop off on the highway shoulder, I saw myself and motorcycle turned into a freshly busted open pinata. Bike parts spread all over, Casey parts spread all over, etc. I hit the brakes hard and went for it. Somehow the semi missed me, and I managed not to turn my bike into yard sale with my high speed highway exit.

I pulled the tire off the motorbike, then the tire from the rim. Installed a new tube, went to inflate it, and my battery was dead. I'm screwed. Thinking quickly, I rummaged through my bags for a sharpie, flipped the back cover over on my repair manual, and made an impromptu sign: "Need a JUMP!" It only took about 10 minutes before Bryan showed up. Bryan is a Canadian carpenter, living in Juncalito. He helped me install the new tube and tire. it took around an hour to get it on, but in the process we managed to break one of the wires inside the tire itself, leaving a dangerous double-ended tire popper inside the tire with my new tube. Bryan knew I was screwed, so he invited me up to his house for dinner with his friends for a new years celebration, and a place to crash for a night.

I went into Loreto searching for a tire shop, but because it was a holiday, nothing was open. I decided to take Brian up on his offer. Just as I was pulling in his gate, my tire went flat AGAIN! parked the bike, took a shower, and we broke out a bottle of Jose Cuervo Tradicional. The tire would have to wait again.
Thismorning, we were able to find a new tire the right size, for $130us. Not too bad. Tomorrow we find a tire shop to do a safe install, and I am on my way!

Back in Baja... -California, that is.

Well, I made it. Guadalajara to Topolobampo (?), apx 630 miles. Took me 12 1/2 hours, riding constantly, minus toll booths $$!!, gas refueling, inspection stations, getting minorly lost for 2 minutes, and 2 separate stops to eat, about 10 minutes combined. All on 3 hours of sleep.

After getting to the ferry terminal in Topolobampo, I was told the private cabins were sold out, so I "slept" in the bar. Seriously. With about 100 other people. Some of which did not sleep, if you get my drift. Luckily, there was a jukebox to keep them entertained. Boy do Mexicans love their LOUD music! It`s truly amazing how someone can have such passion for noise and festivity, even at 3 in the morning.

So another big ride today. Headed north to catch up with the film crew. I dont think I`ll catch them before they leave Catavinia, so I`ll have to make it to San Ignacio if I can before dark, and camp out and wait. Wish me luck!

Casey

One more thing to add to the list of firsts: brain tacos. Yep. I had 2 of em tonight.

Yesterday was a great time.

My new friend Dr. Raul took me to Tonalá, a district on the outskirts of Guadalajara known for its handicrafts and street vendors. Anything you ever bought in Mexico either came from here or could be found here, from art, furniture, shot glasses, spark plugs turned into whimsicle figurines, belts, pewter dishes, and on and on. We went to an open air glass foundry in the middle of the hubbub where you can watch as pieces are handblown. It's an incredible place.

Afterwards, Raul took me to his families house for a posole- a pre-christmas family get together. We had civiche camerones tostados for appetizers, with a home made secret family recipe picante sauce, sopa camerónes (shrimp soup) with cilantro, lime juice, and picante sauce, followed by an enormous plate of jumbo shrimp, with more picante sauce. Many beers were laid to rest by the family that night. It didnt take long before the Karaoke machine came out, and my dancing abilities were soon under intensive training by Raul´s sisters. I dont dance in the States because I feel that I look foolish. Imagine how I felt in the living room of an enormous Mexican family, WITH MOVES!
The aunts sang me 4 or 5 songs, then it was my turn. The only song they had in English was Mambo #5, and I quickly hacked it to bits with my singing. The Mexicans had mercy on me though, and knowing the words better that I did, proceded to help me through it. A beer bus was organized, and the fiesta continued on until the wee hours.

On the ride home, the police pulled Raul and I over, claiming he was not wearing a seat belt. One of the cops was DRUNK! The younger one, not drunk, kept on harassing Raul for close to ten minutes, trying to get money from him. Raul didnt back down though, and we were finally free to go. Another first- my first Mexican police attempted extorsion! No dice, jerk!

De Jalisco, para el mundo!

Hanging out at Diegos apartment in Guadalajara while he´s off playing doctor today. His friends are really great. I´m taking a relaxation day today, as it´s been nonstop go go go. There are a million things to see here. Cathedrals, Plaza Minerva, huge cemetaries, nightclubs, parks, restaurants, markets, colonial districts, everything!
We went to an Irish bar night before last called Red Pub, you walk through the pub to an Irish style alley, down that into a huge open air pub, decorated like you´re in an Irish street. It was pretty amazing, and authentic as you could get. We ordered big dispensers of beer that sit on your table, and you pour your own as you wish. A large frozen bottle of water sits in the middle of your dispenser-pitcher to keep it cold. When the bar closed at 11, we still had a lot of beer left, so they brought us to-go cups. We left with two each, no problem.
Diego took me on the Tequila Express train yesterday, waking up way too early after the night before, scarfed some breakfast, then caught a cab for the train station. They started serving tequila drinks in a can at 11 or so. The train ride was great. We traveled through the Jalisco countryside, for hours through blue agave fields. Arriving in the town of Tequila, we took busses to the Hurradura factory. The place was absolutely amazing. I could spend days there just taking pictures.
After our tour of the facility, we enjoyed an enormous buffet of every kind of mexican food you could imagine, of course with more tequila, complete with mariachi band, BLARING music, (Mexicans love having their ears blasted out by loud music) and an exibition of the Mexican national sport, Charrería. Charrería is something you might find at a rodeo in the States, where skilled rope-handlers jump and skip through spinning lassos. It was extremely entertaining. After two hours of having my ears bloodied, we loaded back into the train for the ride home.
As the sunset lighted the agave fields and Mexican countryside, we sipped some of the best tequila ever made. We were instructed in the way of true tequila appreciation- you take a sip, roll it around on your tongue, slowly swollow, and as you feel it tingle down your throat, exhale slowly through your nostrils. We were told you can pick up hints of chocolate, spice, Kentucky white oak, and other marvelous sensations. Between tastes, you bite lime and drink sangrita- a kind of tomato fruit juice, sans alcohol. To tell you the truth, I tried very hard to taste these flavors, but no such luck. I may have to do some follow up research.
I heard from Jason and Michelle, my KLR traveling buddies from Canada. They're in Acupulco, headed for Costa Rica for Christmas. I hope to catch up with them later in their trip.
My foot is healing nicely. Still a little purple, but with less and less black every day. I'm going to see if one of the markets here sells Manta Ray, buy a big hunk of it and cook it up for tacos.

Dr. Johnson

My first day with Diego in Guadalajara. He was working in the ER at the childrens hospital, and thought I should tag along for the day. Fully outfitted in tie and lab coat, I followed him around on his rounds. I got the full briefing on each patients condition, symptoms, treatment, and recovery outlook. I even got to get my hands dirty!

A kid was brought in by the paramedics who had been found unconscious at school. Aparently he had drank a few beers, then decided to huff some chemicals for kicks. When he came in, he would fight against the nurses and doctors trying to treat him for 10 seconds or so, then pass out again. This kept up for quite a while, earning him the nickname ¨Superman¨ from the staff. I helped hold him down while they tied him and got an IV going to flush out his system.

Diego took me on a tour of the whole hostpital. Everyone thought I was a hotshot cardiologist from the US, and I stood out like a sore thumb. I had to keep turning my borrowed badge around all day. I didn´t look anything like the pretty young doctora whos picture it was! I figured security would have me arrested in no time, but I just got the hairy eyeball from them a couple times. No problem. It was fun having all the nurses and other doctors call me doctor all day though.

Manta Ray Attack!

A couple mornings ago, I rose early to get a jump on the day. Figured I´d get some fishin time in during sunrise, the best part of the day here in Mazatlan. Got everything ready the night before, so as not to wake up my traveling companions. I picked up my trusty Scott 10wt and gear bag, then headed for the beach about two minutes away. Supporting one end of the rod on a soccer goal post hastily welded together in the sand, I gingerly laced fly line through the eyelets of the rod, slowly pulling the line from my (gorgeous) Nautilus reel, tied on a green and white Clouser minnow.
Stripping line from the reel and casting as I advanced through the surf, I bubbled with excitement as pelicans dove in the water around me for breakfast. Catching a glimpse of movement in the water to my left, I double hauled a cast off in that direction, and stripped in line like mad. Nothing. Nothing again.
I continued chasing shadows and tialfins in this manner for about 10 minutes. Just I was getting warmed up, I saw another fish jump out in front of me. I advanced on him too, slinging line like crazy, really having a good time fighting the waves as they crashed into me. As I was about to make my second cast, I had a sharp pain hit me like a brick wall at 50 miles per hour, and dropped my rod in the water. It felt like someone had jammed a surgical needle into my right foot!
I pulled myself together and picked up my quickly sinking rod. I glanced around to see if anyone had heard my girlish scream of terror. The fishermen waiting by their Pangas down the beach to my left were too far away, but to my embarrasment, I saw an American who had been leaning on the rail of the Malecon, watching me cast.
I tried to play through, but the pain was searing. I was only able to make one half-hearted cast before reeling in my line and high-tailing it for the safety of the beach.
I tried to talk with the guy, but my brain would just not function with the excruciating pain overtaking me. I think I muttered two incoherent ¨sentences¨ before hoofing it back to the hotel. I immediately woke up Jason and Michelle, who I had met on the roadside south of Juncalito, and were also traveling on a Kawasaki KLR. Jason has been a registered nurse as well as EMT, and been on recue missions in Pakistan after the major earthquake there. I ¨dropped trow¨ right there in the passageway by the stairs outside the hotel room, and he gave me a shot of Demerol. I tried to lay down and elevate my already hemmoraging football of a foot, but nomatter how hard I concentrated, I could not make the pain go away long enough to hold still!
Carlos, the manager at Hotel Lerma, rushed me to the emergency room, where I was quickly admitted. The doc asked a few quick questions aboout alergies, and went to work. Jason assisted as various nurse trainees looked on.
Once the local anisthetic kicked in I was somewhat coherant again. In about 15 minutes, I had the toxin drained fom my foot and was feeling 100% better. We went to take care of postop paperwork, and I started getting dizzy. I grabbed the nearest chair for about 5 seconds, then felt waves of nausea wash over me. I looked around the room and managed to squeek out Necesito vomitar! in broken Spanish. I needed a sink! After dry heaving for 5 minutes, I felt better again, but the local was wearing off quickly, and the drug cocktails had made me really sleepy and dizzy.
I lied down again while Michelle went to the farmacy to replace the medical supplies they had used in the ER. It was a free clinic with suggested donation, so we paid $20, replaced the medicines, and were on our way with only $30 out of my pocket, with the prescribed drugs I needed as well.
Between spells of sleep and wimpering, I spent the rest of the day in bed.