Guerrero Negro!

Yesterday was real adventure riding.  They say the adventure starts when…well, you know.  You’ve heard me say it before.   Yesterday answered the mail in that regard.

It started out well and ended even better.   After a great dinner the night before at the Old Mill’s new restaurant, the Eucalipto, it was an early morning start.  I wandered around a bit and took the photo above (that bump-bump thing is the theme from Jaws) and I grabbed few photos as the sun was rising.

Then it was on the road, headed south, to El Rosario.  We filled up there, because it was an 80-mile haul to Catavina, and then another 110 miles to the next Pemex.

The weather was perfect riding weather, and things were looking good as we entered the Valle de los Cirios.   Then, suddenly:  WHAP!  I got smacked right in the eye by a bug.  Damn, how did that happen?  I had the visor down and I was doing everything the way I was supposed to, but somehow that thing found it’s way in.   And it was hurting.  Ah, it’s all part of the adventure.

We stopped for a grand lunch at the Desert Inn (or whatever they’re calling it this year) in Catavina, topped off our tanks for the trek south, I took my contact lenses out and put on my glasses, and I briefly wondered what I’d look like wearing a black eye patch.  You know, Moshe Dayan style.  My eye was taking on a nice maroon hue.

The riding was awesome, and the Bullet’s stumbling and missing were pretty much gone.  I felt just a hint of it after long decelerations in a couple of places, but Joe thought that was just because the bike runs so lean.  We stopped for photos in a couple of spots.  It was beautiful and over that 110 mile stretch, we mostly had the road to ourselves.

As we approached that 110-mile away Pemex, the Bullet’s fuel light came on…no kidding, we were within 100 yards of the gas station.  Timed it perfectly, I thought.  I emptied the spare fuel can I was carrying first, then we filled the Bullet, and then, after buttoning everything up, I pushed the starter button.

Nothing.  Well, a click.   Deader then Julius Caesar.  Damn.

And the rest you read about in Joe’s blog below.  The little Bullet soldiers on.  Now, you might think I’d be a little annoyed about a 3-year-old battery dying, but hey, that’s life.  Three years is a good long time for a battery to last in a bike that shakes a bit, and lord knows I’ve had a few battery failures on other adventure rides (on our Western America Adventure ride, the batteries on half the bikes failed before we reached South Dakota).   It happens.

So we’re in Malarimmo’s hotel, it’s early Sunday morning, and I’m headed out to see the whales in another couple of hours.   More good times, folks!