With the exception of our blogs on Tecate, most of what we write about Baja is well into the peninsula’s interior, far away from the touristy stuff clustered around Tijuana. Today’s blog on the Rosarito Beach Hotel is an exception. I love this place, and the beauty of it is that it’s only about 20 miles south of the border. It will take you longer to get through Mexican Customs in TJ than it will to drive to the Rosarito Beach Hotel.
You can actually see the Rosarito Beach Hotel from the toll road. It’s a short drive from the US border.
To get there from So Cal, just take I-5 south until you run out of road. Before you cross the border, though, make sure your car or motorcycle has Mexican insurance (we always use BajaBound). After you’ve crossed the border you’ll need to stop at the Mexican Customs office (it’s huge and you can’t miss it), get your paperwork squared away, and continue south. Watch the signs for the toll road to Ensenada; that’s the road you want. Driving through TJ isn’t too bad; once you’re on the toll road it’s a pleasant drive along the Pacific Coast and you’ll soon see signs for Rosarito Beach. Watch for the Rosarito Beach Hotel sign, head east, and after a couple of blocks you will be at the hotel entrance.
The Rosarito Beach Hotel. Susie and I used to ride in the 50-mile fun run bicycle ride from Rosarito Beach to Ensenada when it ran that route. Those were grand times.
The Rosarito Beach Hotel goes back to the 1920s when people like Clark Gable stayed there. The bar is great, the restaurant is surprisingly good, their Sunday brunch is incredible (it’s worth the drive there just for that), and the first meal is on the house. The rooms are modern and they are immaculate. The grounds are beautiful and the hotel has secure parking.
The landscaping and layout of the Rosarito Beach Hotel are well done. The hotel is immaculate.All parking at the Rosarito Beach Hotel is world class. Those two KLRs belonged to yours truly and Baja John. We rode them on several of many rides through Baja. You can read about our Baja adventures here.A member of the wait staff in the Rosarito Beach Hotel. The service was superb.A Rosarito Beach Hotel breakfast. The Sunday morning brunch is exquisite.
Many times when we’re doing group rides, we’ll use the Rosarito Beach Hotel as a rally point after we’ve crossed the border. It’s hard to miss when you’re on the toll road to Ensenada, and if your group gets separated in the complexity that is the Tijuana border area, the Rosarito Beach Hotel is a good place to meet.
As I mentioned above, the restaurant in the Rosarito Beach Hotel is good. If you enjoy world-class fine dining, Susanna’s may well be the best kept secret in Rosarito Beach. It’s just a bit north of the Rosarito Beach Hotel and within walking distance in the Pueblo Plaza courtyard collection of shops at Benito Juárez 4356 (walk north a block or two and turn right). I have at least one dinner there every time I am in Rosarito Beach and I’ve never been disappointed.
Susanna in her world-class restaurant. I love this place.Shrimp and steak in Susanna’s, one of many fine dinners I’ve enjoyed there.
There you have it: The Rosarito Beach Hotel. If you’d like to read more about our favorite spots in Baja and some of the fabulous rides we’ve enjoyed south of the border, please visit our Baja page!
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Headed into Baja? Make sure you have Baja insurance (it’s required by Mexican law). Our choice is always BajaBound!
Zion. The name implies something of biblical proportions, something religious or heavenly. It’s easy to understand that’s what the Mormon settlers thought when they entered this area in the mid-1800s. One of the crown jewels of the National Park system, Zion may be as close to heaven as you can get without a one-way ticket.
Late in the day, entering Zion National Park from the east on Utah SR 9.
I’ve visited Zion many times, and I’d go back again in a heartbeat. Living in So Cal, Zion is only a day’s ride away. I’ve been there in cars and many times on motorcycles ranging from 250cc Chinese imports to Big Twin Harleys. My strong feelings for Zion are personal: It was the destination of my first big motorcycle trip. My riding buddy and departed friend Dick Scott suggested Zion back when we were going through our Harley phase (a phase most of us passed through), and it was beyond beautiful as we rolled into the park on Utah State Route 9. Zion exceeded anything I could have imagined; I remember feeling like I was riding into a Western painting. It has this effect on everyone with whom I’ve ever visited the Park. That big photo above? That’s Mr. Tso, a very likeable visitor from the Peoples Republic of China who rode with us on the CSC Motorcycles/Zongshen 5000 Mile Western America Adventure ride (a publicity effort that sold more than a few RX3 motorcycles worldwide).
Riding into Zion National Park, peering over the windshield. It’s almost a religious experience.
Nestled where the Mojave, the Great Basin and the Colorado Plateau meet, Zion requires adjectival adeptness to even approach an accurate description. Pastel pink mountains, verdant vegetation, electric blue skies and emerald pools combine with abundant wildlife to create a surreal collage of seemingly endless picture postcard scenes. As national parks go, it’s small, but the scenery is absolutely over the top. I’ve been to a lot of places on this planet, and I can state with certainty that Zion’s beauty is unsurpassed. The wildlife add to the experience. On one of the CSC rides (the Destinations Deal ride), we hit what I thought was traffic and had to stop in one of Zion’s tunnels. I was frustrated until I lane split to the front of the line and found that the delay was caused by a group of bighorn sheep majestically and casually crossing the highway in front of us. They were magnificent, and no, I did not get a photo.
Stopped by a bighorn sheep herd, with my fellow Zongers in the rearview mirror.Taking in the splendor that is Zion, this group of riders is stopping to takes photos.Tony, who is finding Zion to be a bit different than the Peoples Republic of China.
The folks who know about such things think the first humans inhabited Zion a cool 12,000 years ago, hunting local game including woolly mammoths, camels and giant sloths. As these critters were hunted to extinction, the locals turned to farming and evolved into an agrarian culture known as the Virgin Anasazi. The Paiutes moved in when the Anasazi migrated south, and then the Mormons settled alongside the Paiutes in the mid-1800s (that’s when the area received its biblical moniker). Archeologists are still finding evidence of these earlier civilizations. These earlier folks were moving into Zion around the same time that the indigenous peoples were creating the cave paintings in Baja.
A wide-angle photo of SR 9 winding through Zion National Park.One of the tunnels through Zion’s mountains along Utah SR 9.
The Great Depression brought great change in the 1930s, and Franklin Roosevelt’s Civilian Conservation Corps built roads and added upgrades to make the park more accessible. The Virgin River cut deeply through sandstone to create magnificent channels and impressive geologic formations, and the CCC work made these areas easier to reach. For most people, a visit to Zion is to see the sights from the valley floor, but you can also take a half-day excursion up the western edge of the park on Kolob Reservoir Road. From there, you can look down into Zion for a completely different and equally magnificent perspective of the area.
Good buddy Rob, Willie, and more on a ride through Zion National Park.
Let’s talk about the ride — more superlatives are in order here. From any direction, you’ll know you are approaching a magical area. Antelope. Deer. Brilliant blue skies. Magnificent forests. Stunning mountains; it’s all here. From Southern California, you’ll experience tantalizing two-wheeled treats as Interstate 15 cuts through the canyons carved by the Virgin River. Riding in from Arizona’s Grand Canyon region southeast of Zion, the roads are similarly magnificent. And if you’re riding in from Bryce Canyon National Park to the northeast, well, you get the idea. This is one destination that has to be on the bucket list.
An easy ride from southern California…just take I-15 north and exit at Utah SR 9.
Zion National Park is an easy one-day freeway ride from southern California. Grab Interstate 10 East, then I-15 North through Nevada into Utah, to Utah Route 9 East (as you see in the above map). From the south, pick up State Route 89 North in Flagstaff and watch for the signs where Route 89 crosses 9 West before Mt. Carmel, Utah. From the northeast, it’s I-70 West and grab the exit for Route 89 South.
Looking up from the floor of Zion National Park. In Zion, you are mostly in the canyons looking up.
As mentioned above, unlike Bryce Canyon or the Grand Canyon (two National Parks in which you look down into the rock formations), at
Zion you are in the canyon looking up. For a different Zion perspective, take the Kolob Reservoir Road from the north to see things looking down into Zion. Check weather conditions first, as the road climbs to over 8,000 feet and may be impassible during the winter months. Kolob Terrace Road begins in Virgin, Utah, about 13 miles west of Springdale. Look for the sign to the Kolob Reservoir.
If you’re looking for a good place to eat, Casa de Amigos Restaurant in Springdale, just before you enter Zion from the south, is a good spot (the shredded chicken burritos are my favorite). It may be a victim of the pandemic, as Google indicated it was closed temporarily. If you enter Zion from the east, Mt. Carmel is the last town before you reach the Park and there are several restaurants and hotels there.
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If you would like to learn more about our 5000-mile christening ride through the American West on Chinese 250cc motorcycles, pick up a copy of 5000 Miles At 8000 RPM.
We’ve featured TJ’s Custom Gunworks a few times here on the ExNotes blog. I’ll take credit for influencing another good buddy who had TJ work his magic on a Colt Combat Commander, and this one is a honey. Colt’s Combat Commander is a 4.25-inch barreled version of the 1911. This TJ custom auto is hard chromed and it is a stunning example of TJ’s workmanship. You can see it in the photos and you can see the results on the range.
The Combat Commander shown here has had the following modifications:
Polished hard chrome finish over stainless steel.
Throated and polished barrel and frame.
Fitted and polished extractor.
New match trigger and action job.
New match hammer.
Smoothed breech face.
Polished full length guide rod.
Satin polish on barrel hood and chamber.
Extended slide catch.
New and rounded steel mainspring housing.
Trigger pull set to 3.0 lbs.
Melted sharp edges.
Reduced strength and smoothed magazine release button.
DayGlo red front sight.
Honduran rosewood burl grips.
I’ve seen this gun in action on the range and it is a thing of beauty. I’ve had a few guns customized by TJ, and I’ve steered a few friends there. I’ve had six handguns and a rifle customized by TJ, and every one of them is a stellar example of his craftsmanship. These include a Model 59, a bright stainless Colt 1911, the MacManus Colt 1911, the Rock Island Compact, a Model 60 Smith and Wesson snubbie, a Ruger Mini 14, and a new Colt Python. TJ’s emphasis is on reliability and perfection and on all of my guns he met those objectives in every case. When it comes to custom firearms, it doesn’t get any better than TJ’s Custom Gunworks.
You can read more firearms features on the Tales of the Gun page.
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We don’t do politics here on ExNotes, mostly because we don’t want to lose all our readers. If Gresh expressed his views, we’d lose half of you, and if I expressed my views, we’d lose the other half. That said, what has been happening in the world the over the last week transcends mere politics (von Clausewitz’s definition of war being an extension of politics by other means notwithstanding).
I don’t agree with much of what the current team at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue has been doing for the last year, but I think we are taking the prudent course of action regarding Russia. Not the moral course of action or the course of action President Volodymyr Zelenskyy and his nation deserve, but the prudent course. What do you do when a madman has his finger on the nuclear trigger? It’s not a time to call his bluff, and for that, I think what’s happening here on the home front is prudent. But if ever a nation and a leader deserved our intervention, this is it. President Zelenskyy’s response when offered US help to flee Ukraine was eloquent: I need ammunition, not a ride. This, my friends, is a leader. A combat commander. The real deal.
People are comparing Zelenskyy to Churchill. The comparisons are valid, but the more appropriate comparison I think of is General Anthony McAuliffe. When surrounded by the Germans at Bastogne, McAuliffe’s response to their surrender demand was similarly eloquent: Nuts. General George S. Patton said that a man so eloquent deserved to be saved. That is certainly the case for Volodymyr Zelenskyy and the people of Ukraine.
Maybe we are seeing real leadership in Washington. We can only hope. Tightening the screws on the oligarchs and kleptocrats surrounding Putin may well lead to Putin’s demise. I’m guessing that’s the game plan. I hope it happens quickly.
They say time flies and that’s corny-true but I think time accelerates the closer you get to the end. We have been living on Tinfiny Ranch for 6 years now and I have missed the Prairie Dawgs Tarantula 100 desert race each of those years. It seemed like there was always something that needed doing or I was off somewhere else. I usually hear about the race after it has run and say to myself: I’ve got to make it down to mile marker 45 and check it out next year.
This year was the someday year. My old high school chum Greg was in town so we burbled Brumby down Highway 54 early Sunday to catch the second day of Prairie Dawg action. The event is held at a huge off-road playpen about halfway between El Paso and Alamogordo. When we first moved to La Luz I attended a Prairie Dawg club meeting. They were a great bunch of guys and gals (another of those things I keep meaning to do is join The Dawgs). I’m not real big on organized motorcycle events preferring instead to toss about on the floor picking up cat hair like a gigantic sticky lint roller. To enter a race, to pre-run the course, to get in physical shape so that I could hold on to a bucking 1971 Yamaha 360 for 100 miles of desert seems like a lot of effort.
Effort that could be better spent consuming beer and eating beef jerky in the warm February New Mexico sunshine. So that’s what me and Greg did. We arrived on a perfect day just as the riders meeting was ending and wasted no time getting to the start line. The PD riders lined up according to class. The start is dead-engine. When the flagman, who gave no 30-second board or hint of when he was going to drop the flag, gave the signal you had to start your bike and off you go. It was so unexpected I missed several photos. With the dead-engine start, the electric start bikes had a bit of an advantage over the kick start bikes.
The race is run in 50-mile loops. When the riders come back through the pit area they ride underneath a red, pipefitting type of arch where the transponder records their time. We had a bit of a wait after the last class was on their way so we got our chairs, beer and beef jerky and settled down to discuss how old we were getting, the various ailments we were suffering under and to try and remember some long ago event that the other guy was reminiscing about.
One hour later the first of the Pro Class arrived at the transponder. Most everyone took on a gallon of gas, a swig of water and were on their way for the second lap. Some guys pushed their bikes under the yellow pit-tape ribbon and called it a day. Greg and I set up behind a hill at a spot that had a good view of the last mile or so of the course and the red transponder arbor. Some pits were located before the transponder, some after, but I guess it didn’t matter as the second lap was the one that counted. The sun beat down, the early morning chill was long gone, and our world became a balmy 70-degree red dirt sand dune. We shed our jackets and settled into a mellow, New Mexico low simmer.
Greg was heading to Fort Stockton, Texas later in the day so we decided to hang around until the first youth-class rider completed his lap. That came around 2 hours into the race or almost exactly twice the time it took the first pro-class rider. We folded up our chairs, shook the sand off and went back to the Alamogordo Moose Lodge where Greg had left his gigantic motorhome. I read later on the Prairie Dawg’s Facebook page that there was some trouble with the scoring system and I’m not real sure who won. I figure why mess up such a nice day out with accounting issues.
I don’t know if I’ll ever compete in the Tarantula 100. I’m still able to trail ride all day long but can only make about 2 miles at race pace. Staying up to speed for 100 miles would leave me rubbery-armed with blood pooled in my calves. I don’t want to take that helicopter ride. There is a 60+ class but those guys looked pretty fit. Maybe they’ll let me enter the mini-cycle class. Pouring concrete would be easy in comparison.
