Joe Berk

Évora!

By Joe Berk

I know, we’re a motorcycle (and other interesting stuff) site, and you might be thinking this blog is going to be about a Lotus Evora (the Evora is a Lotus sports car). The Evora is probably an incredible automobile, but that’s not why we are here today.

The word Évora is a feminine word of Portuguese origin; it means “she who lives near yew trees.” That’s about as irrelevant as the big photo up top. But hey, we’re a motorcycle site, and who wouldn’t enjoy a photo of a Barbie-themed pink BMW cafe racer carousel ride? I saw those carousel Beemers as we walked into Évora. They called out to me. I had to get a photo.

But I digress: Our focus in this blog is indeed Évora, but it’s not about the Lotus. It is about a small 2,000-year-old town in Portugal, a World Heritage Site, named Évora. Before I get to the Évora photos, let me digress a bit more and tell you about our stop as a gas station on the ride from Lisbon to Évora. That gas station had a magazine rack. They still do printed motorcycle magazines over there, you know.

On to Évora. One of our first photo ops was the Capela dos Ossos (the Chapel of Bones). It was one of many churches we would see on our travels through Spain and Portugal, but this one had a rather bizarre twist: The walls and columns are covered in bones.

Yep, I said bones. Human bones. Weird stuff, this is.

An interior shot of the Capela dos Ossos. The little 18-55 Nikon kit lens was earning its keep.

The thigh bone’s connected to the hip bone…or something like that. Skulls, too. Go figure.

The Capela dos Ossos is a small chapel (it’s located next to the larger Church of St. Francis), and it was built by Franciscan monks in the 16th century. I guess they wanted it to stand out, and to accomplish that, the guys dug up medieval cemeteries and used the bones from an estimated 5,000 dead folks as interior decor. It was weird, man. Bones. I tried to imagine the conversation hundreds of years ago that led to this decision. Sue and I have had interesting discussions about our interior paint and wallpaper choices. I get it that these decisions are not always easy and everybody has opinions. But bones? Those old Portuguesers must have had some spirited interior decor conversations. Paint? Nah. Wallpaper? Nah. Tiles? Maybe a little, but everybody’s done tiles. Bones? Yeah, that could work.

All this kind of made me think about cremation as an alternative to burial, but I’m not going with either option. I’ve already left directions to my heirs. I’m going to be stuffed when I go. Stuffed with bullshit, and mounted in front of my laptop. You know…so I can keep writing the blog.

One thing I love about travel anywhere is that it gives me lots of photo opportunities. Here’s another picture of a more conventional statue in the bone barn.

High ISOs, the 18-55mm Nikon lens, shooting in RAW, and Photoshop’s noise reduction filter brings it all home.

Gresh asked me about two-stroke motorcycles in Portugal. The only one I saw was this older Zündapp. It was very clean, it was plated, and it was obviously still in use.

I would see a few more two-stroke motos in Spain, but two-strokes have pretty much had their day on the Iberian peninsula. Bultaco, Ossa, and Montesa (or was it Montessa?) are no more. Gresh loves his two strokes and he owns several. I’ve only had one, a BSA Bantam two-stroke.

An excellent resource: The Clymer BSA book.

My Beezer didn’t look anything like the one you see on the Clymer BSA book above (which is an excellent reference, by the way). Mine was a clapped out, rattle-can black beater bike. But it was fun and frisky and for a 175 it had power way out of line with its displacement. Maybe some day I’ll get another two-stroke motorcycle, but the odds are low. The way the world is going it’s more likely I’ll have an electric motorcycle first, but that’s a topic for a later blog.

I’m digressing again. Back to the main attraction. Colors abound in Portugal. I grabbed this photo of a few plates on display.

As we walked through Évora, the door handles and knockers caught my attention. Here are a few photos.

The macro shots of the door knockers were fun. Take my hand…

A set of stereo knockers. The one on the right sees the most use.

Many of the doors were cool, too. I’ll show more of these photos in subsequent blogs. I took a bunch.

Cork is a big industry in Portugal, and we saw many different cork products (cork bowls, cork pads, cork purses, cork hats, and more). Did you ever wonder where cork comes from? Cork is made from tree bark (something I did not know). The tree is called a cork oak, and the bark can be harvested every 9 years after the tree matures (the bark grows back). Spain and Portugal are the dominant suppliers.

Our local tour guide with a chunk of cork oak bark stripped from the tree. Who knew?

Évora is a colorful place. Walking Évora’s narrow and climbing streets was fun, and the photo ops made it even more so.

Évora dates to the Roman occupation of the Iberian peninsula. The remains of the Temple of Diana are on a hill overlooking the city’s center; the temple was built in the first century. It’s known today as the Temple of Diana, but that’s not what it was when the Romans built it. A 17th century priest, Father Manuel Fialho, is believed to be the person who tagged it as the Temple of Diana. It’s too bad we don’t do politics here on ExNotes; this story screams out for a Father Fialho comparison to Fox News or CNN (depending on which way you lean).

Portugal is a well-developed nation with excellent roads. I’d say it is better-maintained and cleaner than a lot of places I’ve been in the US. The expressways were every bit as good as ours, and other than the fact that signs were not in English and there was little traffic, the freeways were no different than the ones in southern California. The climate is about the same, the towns and roads are much cleaner, and we didn’t see any homeless people. Prices on everything except gasoline were similar to those in the US (gas was around $8 per gallon), but the average wage is substantially lower (their average annual income is about a third of ours). Somehow they make it all work.

The photo below shows the view from our bus just before we entered Spain.

Espana bound. Spain was a quarter mile in front of us. We didn’t need our passports to enter Spain nor did we need to stop. It was like driving across the state line between California and Arizona.

I’m skipping around a bit. There’s more to cover from our time in Portugal, and I’ll touch on that in subsequent blogs. For now, it was on to Spain.

To be continued…

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A Tangerine WRX

There are needs and there are wants. I don’t need a Subaru WRX, but I sure want one. I had my Outback in for service the other day, and the Subie dealer had a bright tangerine WRX on the showroom floor (Subie calls the color Solar Orange Pearl). Those cars are fast and appealing and I was all over it. I don’t need another car. But I sure want the WRX you see above. I’d name it Il Tangerino.

My 2006 WRX in Rally Blue. The fun factor was off the charts in this car.

Susie and I bought a new WRX in 2006 and it was one of the best and most fun cars we ever owned. We did a lot of great trips in that car. It had an automatic transmission (unusual for the WRX) and it was just a hoot to drive. It felt like a supercharged go kart, which in a way it sort of was. Turbocharged, anyway. It would go like a bat out of hell and one time when passing a long string of cars heading north on the 395, I looked down and saw I was doing a cool 140 mph. It was effortless. Like I said, these cars are fast.

I like the orange color. I had an orange Subie CrossTrek and my friends teased me about its bright orange paint. Laugh all you want. The CrossTrek was a good looking car and it was easy to find in a parking lot.

I first drove a WRX when good buddy Tom tossed me the keys to his WRX when we were hanging around Bob Brown’s BMW dealership. Marty and I took it out for a spin, it was fast, and that ride was all it took. I bought the blue one you see above a short while later.

The WRX you see here has an automatic transmission. Slick. I want one.

Most WRX Subies have manual transmissions. Those are okay, but I’m a bit more mature now and I prefer an automatic. Sit in California traffic a while and you will, too.

The WRX seats are hard but surprisingly comfortable.

I asked the sales guy at the Subie dealership what this one would go for and after the standard line of dealer crap (including the when are you going to buy, how much are you willing to offer, etc….I do love dealers and their sales people), he finally showed me their invoice. The bottom line is that this Subie would go for something slightly north of $32,000, not counting taxes and other fees.

I love that scoop. It’s for the turbo’s cooler.

My first thought was that $32K is not a bad price for a car like this (I recently read in the Wall Street Journal that the average price for a new GM car is right at $50K today). The Subie you see here has a 2.4-liter engine and a turbocharger. You’re supposed to run premium fuel and here in the Peoples Republik premium is running north of $5 per gallon. so that’s probably a deal killer. But like I said at the start of this blog, there’s needs and there’s wants. I don’t need a new WRX, but I sure want this one. If enough of our readers click on the popup ads…who knows?

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Thoughts on the 9mm Double Charge Issue

By Joe Berk

A few days ago I blew up my 9mm Springfield Armory 1911. It was hellaciously frightening. I wrote a blog about it and I’ll provide a link at the end of this post. My initial conclusion was that I had committed the cardinal reloading sin: I double charged a case. Instead of the intended 5.4 grains of Accurate No. 5 propellant, I cycled the round twice at the charging station and I inadvertently loaded 10.8 grains. I know what you are thinking and that’s okay. If I read about somebody doing this, I’d think they were a dumbass, too. I’ll get back to that later.

5.4 grains of Accurate No. 5 behind a 125-grain powder coated bullet is good. 10,8 grains is not.

Thinking about the double charge issue more, several additional thoughts emerged. Were there other possibilities?

One other possibility is that instead of the failure being due to a double charge, it might have been a squib charge (which would lodge a bullet in the bore) followed by another round. This was dismissed for several reasons:

- - I knew it wasn’t preceded by a squib charge because the prior round felt normal.
  - If it was a squib charge, the following round probably would not have chambered. Squib charges resulting from no powder and pressure being provided by the primer only (in a handgun) tend to push the bullet into the barrel a very short distance (the bullet doesn’t go into the barrel far enough to allow another round to chamber).
  - The were 5 holes on the target, which is the number of rounds I had fired.
  - The barrel was not bulged (TJ inspected it and pronounced it good).

Count them: 5 holes on the target. The fifth hole is the one at the bottom. This bullet was tumbling due to its low velocity. When the case blew out, the pressure vented elsewhere.

A friend asked if I could have seated two bullets in the case. I set bullets (one on top of the other) next to a cartridge case. I think you can see that seating two bullet in the case is not possible. The bottom bullet would set higher in the case than you see in the photo below (the web near the case base and the thickness of the case “floor” would cause it to seat much higher in the case). I would not have been able to seat the second bullet even if there was no powder in the case.

A photo showing that two bullets in a single case is not possible.

I pulled the bullets in the photo above from two cartridges using an inertia bullet puller. Both had exactly 5.4 grains of Accurate No. 5 propellant, which is what I intended. These are the pulled bullets on top of their cartridge cases:

125-grain powder coated bullets pulled from their cases and then placed back on top of their cases.

After I pulled the bullets and put the powder back in each case, you can see the level at which the right amount of propellent (5.4 grains) sets in the case.

5.4 grains of Accurate No. 5 in 9mm cartridge cases.

I wondered: Would a double charge (i.e., 10.8 grains of Accurate No. 5) fit in a cartridge case without it spilling out of the case? The answer is yes. I took the powder from one case and poured it in the other. The case can easily hold 10.8 grains of Accurate No. 5. Take a look:

10.8 grains of Accurate No. 5 in a 9mm cartridge case.

It would be better if the powder was bulky enough that it would spill over the case rim if I double charged it. I know that my 9mm Unique load sits higher in the case (my Unique load for the 125-grain bullet is 5.0 grains).

Trickling 5.0 grains of Unique onto the powder scale.

Here’s what 5.0 grains of Unique looks like in a 9mm case:

5.0 grains of Unique in a 9mm cartridge case.

The question then was how much Unique can a cartridge case hold? I was specifically interested in determining if a double charge of Unique would overflow the case. To answer this, I completely filled a 9mm case with Unique and weighed that amount of propellant:

A 9mm cartridge case completely filled with Unique.

I weighed the amount of Unique held by a completely-filled 9mm cartridge case. The filled 9mm case held 7.9 grains of Unique.

Weighing the Unique held by a completely-filled 9mm case.

A completely-filled 9mm cartridge case can hold a hair over 7.9 grains of Unique propellant.

A double charge of Unique would be 10.0 grains. I concluded that a double charge of Unique would overflow the 9mm case, and this would provide an additional safeguard against an inadvertent double charge. I was careless enough to not notice a case double-charged with Accurate No. 5. I’d like to think I wouldn’t be careless enough to miss powder spilling out of the case, as would occur with Unique. The next time I load 9mm ammo, it will be with Unique.

You might be wondering about the numbers here. Bear in mind that Unique is a less dense propellant than Accurate No. 5. 10.0 grains of Unique occupies more volume than does 10.8 grains of Accurate No. 5.

The challenge now is what to do about the approximately 1400 rounds of 9mm and .45 ACP I already have loaded on the Lee Turret press. I thought I might be able to quickly screen the rounds by weight, but that’s not going to work. The weights of the powder, the brass case, and the bullet all vary, with the bullet (as the heaviest item) having the greatest variation. On the 9mm cartridges, I found that the weight variation of the completed 9mm cartridges varies from 192 grains up to 198 grains. The powder charge is 5.4 grains. If a cartridge weighs 198 grains, would it just be at the upper edge of the weight distribution with the correct single charge, or would it be a 192-grain cartridge with a double charge? It’s even worse on the .45 ACP rounds, because the weight variability of the completed cartridge is more than the 9mm, and those powder charges are in the range of 5.0 grains or 5.4 grains (they are lost in the case compared to 9mm ammo). I can’t take the chance that there’s another double charge in there. I’m breaking down and checking every cartridge. It’s a lot of work, but it’s better than blowing up a gun.

This is the .45 ammo I loaded on the Lee turret press. It’s 700 rounds. I have another 700 rounds of 9mm ammo similarly loaded.

You might be wondering what it’s like to get back on the range after blowing up a gun. I was afraid I might return with a very serious flinch (you know, when you jerk the gun in anticipation of it firing). I’m happy to report (and maybe brag a little bit) that I’m just fine. I had my 9mm S&W Shield out with ammo that I tore down, checked, and reloaded, and I also had my Colt Python (in which I shot .38 Special wadcutters).

An S&W 9mm Shield target shooting the 5.4 grain Accurate No. 5, 125-grain powder coated bullet load described in this blog.

A Colt Python target shot with 148-grain powder-coated wadcutters. I’ve done better and I’ve done worse.

At this point, I’m convinced that I screwed up and double-charged the 9mm round I wrote about last week. TJ (of TJ’s Custom Gunworks) disassembled the gun and pulled out the case you see in the photo at the top of this blog. There was a lot of pressure in there (about 10.8 grains of Accurate No. 5’s worth, actually). Like I said in the earlier blog, it’s an opportunity. More good news is the barrel wasn’t damaged. Even more good news is that TJ is doing an action and reliability job on my 1911. TJ is replacing the two piece guide rod (two-piece guide rods are a solution to a problem that doesn’t exist) and doing a few more good things to this pistol. I’ve already purchased and received replacement grips and a new 9mm magazine. I’ll provide an update in a couple of weeks after I get the 1911 back, and I’ll do another blog on what it’s like disassembling and reassembling 1400 rounds of reloaded ammo.

Stay tuned!

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A Portuguese Norton

By Joe Berk

I’d like to be able to tell you more about this classic Norton single I spotted recently in Porto, Portugal, but I can’t. I was in a hurry to hop on a boat ride, the owner wasn’t around, and after snapping a couple of photos I had to run.

Here’s a view from the bike’s left side.

I thought I might find info on the bike’s headstamp, but in the photos I have I couldn’t find anything. I’d sure like to know more about it. If you have any info on what this bike is, please leave a comment and let us know.

Thanks much.

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KABOOM!

By Joe Berk

It occurred in an instant, on the fifth and last round in the magazine. It was as if a cherry bomb had gone off in my face. I heard a voice yell “whoa!” and I realized the voice was mine.

I stared at the smoking Springfield Armory 9mm 1911 in my hands, waiting for the pain, the blood, and whatever might follow. My hands, still wrapped around the grips, were stinging. I knew something bad happened, but I didn’t know how bad it was and I wasn’t especially looking forward to finding out. My gun had blown up. The entire gun was smoking and smoke continued to waft from places it wasn’t supposed to: The grips, the line between the frame and the slide, the trigger, around the hammer, and the ejection port (which was closed; at this point, I didn’t know if there was a live round in the chamber). Gray smoke curled out everywhere.

I slowly relaxed my grip and looked at my hands. There was no blood, but my palms stung like they had been slapped with a baseball bat. As I eased my hold, the 1911’s left grip fell away in two pieces (as you can see in the photo at the top of this blog). There were no cuts and there was no bleeding, but I had powder tattoos all over both hands. I returned my focus to the gun. It was still smoking. It smelled funny, too. Was that burnt flesh or just the powder and residual oil?

The first four shots from that magazine were delightfully tight, and I ordinarily would have felt good about seeing that. On each of the preceding four shots (and the fifth one, for that matter), the front sight had been outlined against the blurred rear sight and the bright orange muzzle flash, the way things are supposed to look when the hammer drops.

The first four rounds were forming a nice group. The fifth was a disaster.

I was still afraid to look at my hands. My face was now tingling and I knew I’d caught something. I had safety glasses on and I could see okay; that was good. I worked up enough courage to put the gun down and look at my hands more closely. They seemed okay. I knew from previous bad things happening that sometimes you don’t feel anything for a few seconds (the golden minute, I think they call it), but I looked again and I was okay.

The 1911’s right grip appeared to be intact (but it wasn’t; more on that in a second). The slide was locked forward. I tried to pull it back but it would only move about an eighth of an inch. I pressed the magazine release and nothing happened. I pulled on the magazine and it came out. It was mangled; the front was bent in and the follower angled upward. I still wasn’t sure if there was a live round in the chamber. I cocked the hammer and dropped it a couple of times…and there was nothing. I concluded it was safe to put the 1911 in its case. I scooped up my marbles and left. I didn’t even pick up my brass, and this was Remington brass that had only been reloaded once…that’s how shook up I was.

When I got home, I looked in the mirror. I had one little spot on my right cheek that bled and had already stopped (I’ve done worse shaving). I washed my hands to get the powder residue off (that took a while). There were no cuts. Dodged a bullet, I did. Figuratively and literally.

Once home, I examined the 1911 more closely. The trigger was too far forward in the frame. The event probably screwed up the trigger mechanism. The right grip, which I thought was okay, had a hairline crack along its length. Not that it matters; you can’t buy just one grip (you buy them in pairs). The slide would not move to the rear more than a little bit; it was not coming off the gun.

The trigger moved far forward. You can see the outline on the trigger denoting where it was normally positioned.

The left grip fell off the gun when I released my grip. The right grip had cracked, but it remained in place.

What could have caused this? There are a lot of possibilities. The first (and most likely) is that I double charged a cartridge case when reloading. In other words, I put twice as much propellant in the case as I should have. Of all the reloading equipment I’ve ever used, it’s easiest to do this on the Lee turret press I’ve been raving about. I’m not badmouthing Lee or their turret press; I’m simply making an observation. If that’s what happened, it was entirely my fault.

I could have fired a squib load, had a bullet lodge in the bore, and then fired another bullet on top of it. I’m pretty sure that is not what happened because of the holes on the target. There are four clean holes from the first four rounds, and one lower, oblong hole from the fifth round (when the gun blew up). You can see this on the target above. The bullet didn’t have as much energy behind it and it had started to tumble.

I could have experienced a case failure in which the rear of the case tore off, which would have allowed the hot gases to impinge on the gun internally. There’s some evidence to suggest this. I can look into the bore and see that the cartridge case is still present, but the interior of the case is partly torn away. The lower third of the case’s base is gone (the upper two thirds are present). In the area where the case’s base is gone, I can see the breech face and the firing pin. I later found part of the cartridge case inside the magazine.

This was a tough photo to get (mea culpa on the image quality). You are peering down the barrel from the muzzle end. The upper arrow points to what’s left of the cartridge case; the front of the firing pin is visible. The lower arrow points to the breech face.

The gun could have fired out of battery. That is to say, it may have fired without the slide being fully forward. I can move the slide back about 1/16-inch, cock the hammer, and the trigger will release it. I don’t know if it is doing that because the internals are damaged, or if it could do it before the event. Or, there could have been grit in the chamber that prevented the cartridge from chambering completely. When I look into the bore, I can see residual blue powder coating from the bullet that seems to be lodged between the case mouth and the forward edge of the chamber.

I cast around on the Internet a bit and I found several references to the 9mm 1911 Springfields having tight chambers. I know mine has a very tight chamber. Maybe a cartridge wasn’t resized completely and it failed to completely chamber? If that happens, the slide won’t go all the way forward and the gun shouldn’t fire so I don’t think that’s likely, but who knows.

After I returned home, I examined the magazine again and I could see what I thought was an imprint of the primer on the magazine. I shook the magazine and felt something rattling around inside. It was the primer. It had been flattened, and there was a hole where the firing pin had struck it. I’m guessing the hole was caused by the excess pressure.

A mangled magazine. The left arrow points to the primer imprint. The right arrow points to the distorted follower.

The primer and a bit of brass residue. These were inside the magazine.

An inside view of the primer. Note the circular cutout where pressure sheared the brass against the firing pin hole.

My Springfield 1911 is toast, at least for a while. I have two ways I can go on this (well, three, if you count scrapping the 1911 altogether, but that’s not a choice I want to consider). One option is to return the gun to Springfield Armory, but I don’t want to do that. If the failure was a problem with the gun, I don’t want to have the same guys who screwed it up attempt to fix it. Every gun I’ve ever bought from Springfield has required at least one warranty repair (including this one, but for a different issue). Two of my friends bought 1911s from Springfield and they’ve had to go back for warranty repairs (one had to be returned twice when they didn’t fix the problem the first time). I don’t know what Springfield’s warranty repair turnaround times are these days, but it’s probably measured in weeks or months. The last thing that ruled out a warranty repair was that this event occurred with my reloaded ammo and that voids the warranty. I’m not in denial here; it is likely my reloaded ammo is the reason this happened.

Nope, I’m going to go with the approach that’s always worked for me. It’s the silver lining in this sad tale (that and the fact that I wasn’t injured). I’m bringing the 1911 to TJ’s Custom Gunworks tomorrow. I’ve already talked to TJ and he tells me my 1911 can be repaired. The repairs will be on my dime, but I know the work will be perfect and I know the gun will literally be better than new. I’ll have TJ do a bit of custom work while he has the gun, too. TJ told me he’ll have to cut slide release off to remove the slide from the frame, and when he disassembles it, we’ll learn more. I’m thinking a double charge is the likely culprit (which would be my mistake), but maybe TJ will find otherwise. I’ll keep you posted.

I had a serious debate with myself about posting this blog. It’s an interesting story; that puts it in the plus column. If I double-charged that case, that’s an admission of carelessness on my part and that puts it in the minus column. In the end, if it helps other people from making the same mistake (assuming the fault lies with me), this blog will have served a purpose and that is why it is here.

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Lisbon

I should have paid more attention in my elementary and junior high school geography classes. I remember studying Christopher Columbus (the guy who “discovered” America), but the other explorers’ names are lost among my fading neurons. And here we were, in Lisbon, where Vasco de Gama, Magellan, Henry the Navigator, old Christopher C. himself, and others hung out five or six centuries ago. I wish I could repeat my 7th grade geography class with Mr. Costa for just that reason. Being 12 years old again would be cool, too.

My new good buddy Ibrahim, one of our fellow tourists on this adventure, is a serious photographer. He used my consumer grade Nikon to take the photo below at the Parque Eduardo VII . It was one of the first places we stopped in Lisbon, and the statue at the end is Christopher Columbus. Look at those hedges and think about how much labor is needed to keep them looking this good. By the time you get to the end trimming them, you’d have to go back to the beginning and start over. That’s the Tagus River in the background. Lisbon is right on the Atlantic Ocean. A lot of 14th and 15th century New World explorations started right here.

Susie and yours truly at the Parque Eduardo VII in Lisbon. Photo by Ibrahim Alava.

The photo below is from one of many churches we visited (we saw many churches and a couple of synagogues in Spain and Portugal; before the Spanish Inquisition, there was a thriving Jewish community on the Iberian Peninsula).

Blue and white tiles were a common decor in Spain and Portugal.

Blue tiles were everywhere in Lisbon. Spain and Portugal were occupied by the Moors for centuries. The Moors brought their art, their architecture, and their style (including blue tiles) to the region. The Moors were ultimately driven out, but the tiles remained. I could spend a month in Lisbon just photographing the tiles. The tiles get their blue color from cobalt, which is locally mined.

We wandered through Lisbon’s Alfama neighborhood to a church at the top of a hill, led by a local guide. Our walk here involved a steep uphill climb through narrow streets and alleys. When Sue and I first joined up with our tour group two days earlier, I felt good seeing that the group was mostly made up of old people (I called our group the Portugueezers). I figured our age would hold the walking and climbing to a minimum. I was wrong. We did a ton of walking and climbing. My iPhone told me one day I did over 17,000 steps. Most days were at least 10,000 steps.

A colorful door in Lisbon’s Alfama neighborhood.

I took a lot of artsy-fartsy photos of doors, doorknobs, door knockers, and other things as we climbed the twisting and narrow streets of Lisbon’s Alfama neighborhood. My fellow Portugueezers thought I was a serious amateur photographer when I frequently stopped to grab a picture, and I didn’t say anything to persuade them otherwise (the stops were so I could catch my breath).

I noticed that a few of the homes had printed tiles with photos of older women on their exterior walls. I tried to find out more about this on Google but I struck out (I should have asked our guide while we were there, but I was huffing and puffing too hard to ask). Maybe these women were famous Portuguese mountain climbers. Sue later told me our guide said the tiles tell a bit about the residents of each home. Say hello to Ms. Delmira and Ms. da Luz.

Ms. Delmira, an Alfama neighborhood denizen.

Ms. da Luz, known as Maria to her friends.

We were in an area frequented by tourists and there were lots of shops selling things. Where there were colors, I took a photo or two.

We then went down to the waterfront Belém area along the Tagus River. The statue below is a monument to Henry the Navigator.

An interesting monument to Henry the Navigator in the Belém area.

A closer view of statues on the Henry the Navigator monument.

The Hieronymites Monastery was across the street from the Henry the Navigator monument. Jose, our guide, told us that nuns in this monastery (I didn’t think they had nuns in a monastery, but what do I know?) were famous for their Pastéis de Belém. Jose disappeared for a bit and then reappeared with samples for us to try. They were excellent.

James (one of our fellow travelers) and Jose, our tour guide.

Like Porto and other big European cities, downtown Lisbon was a hotbed of scooter activity. At any traffic light, scooters filtered to the front of the queue, and when the light turned green, it was a multi-scooter drag race. It was fun to watch. I guess Portugal has a helmet law; everyone wore one. But that was it for protective gear. Think full face helmets accompanied by t-shirts, shorts, and flip flops (all the gear, all the time). I’m guessing I saw a hundred scooters for every motorcycle, and when we did see motorcycles, they were mostly 125cc machines. Many appeared to be of Chinese origin, with Honda and Yamaha motorcycles making up the balance. There were a few big bikes; I spoke to a guy at a rest stop who was on a BMW GS. He told me he liked his GS and it was a good machine, but he had another motorcycle that was his pride and joy: A Harley Sportster. “It has a carburetor,” he proudly told me (an obvious vintageness badge). I thought I might refer him to our earlier ExNotes post, 18 Reasons Why You Should Buy A Used Sportster, but he was in a hurry and I had already run out of ExNotes business cards.

Check it out: 18 Reasons Why You Should Buy A Used Sportster.

There’s more, but this blog is getting long enough. You get the idea. After two days in Lisbon, it was on to Évora and then Spain.

Stay tuned, my friends.

Have you bought your copy of our latest book, A Cup O’ Joes?

Spain and Portugal

By Joe Berk

Never heard of Antoni Gaudi, the man who designed Barcelona’s La Sagrada Família Basilica? Don’t feel bad; I had never heard of him, either. His work is the wildest architecture I’ve ever seen…think Dr. Suess meets George Lucas, except this guy predates both.

How about scooter-borne motor officers? Scooters and small motorcycles make way more sense than the gigondo police bikes we use here in the US. The photo below shows a Policia moto cop we watched roll up on criminal activity (0utside a cathedral, no less), and the bad guys simply evaporated.

Enjoy majestic cathedrals and stained glass? Hey, there’s a lot of that coming your way, too. We were in so many cathedrals I had to check the itinerary just to get my photos organized.

Did I mention the Flamenco dancers? Here’s another teaser.

Take my word on this: If you enjoy photography and motorcycling, fine dining, good wine, beautiful people, and the good life, Spain and Portugal are tough to beat.

Sue and I just returned from a couple of weeks over there and it was awesome. I left the big Nikon at home and carried a much lighter D3300 Nikon (the same one I used on the China, Colombia, and Baja rides), and life was a lot easier. The photos are about as good as those I get with the boat anchor D810 and I minimized the wear and tear on me (I’m so spring chicken, you know). I took three lenses with me: the 18-55 kit lens that came with the camera, an inexpensive and lightweight Rokinon 8mm fisheye (using it required manual everything, as it doesn’t interface with the D3300’s auto focusing and metering capabilities), and a very sharp Nikon 35mm f1.8. Even though the 35mm Nikon lens was the best in the bag, I never put it on the camera. I used the 18-55mm for the bulk of my shots (it was easy to use and I think it did a good job) and the 8mm fisheye for just a few (like that big photo in the Gaudi basilica at the top of this blog).

There’s more content in the ExNotes queue on our visit to the Iberian Peninsula, with a little bit of moto content in each.

Stay tuned, my friends.

The Wayback Machine: How Many Miles Can You Ride In A Day?

By Joe Berk

How many miles can you ride in a day?

About 30 years ago I cranked 1070 miles in one day on a Harley Softail coming home from Mexico (and that was on an older Softail without the rubber mounted engine…it’s the one you see in the photo above). I was younger and I could ride, as they say, like the wind. A couple of weeks ago, I did a 250-mile day ride on my Enfield and it about wiped me out.

Gresh and I were talking about this recently, and I thought I would share my thoughts on how many miles you can plan on covering in a day. Maybe it will influence your planning. Maybe not. We get paid the same either way.

1: Age

Like I said above, big miles used to be no big deal for me. That’s not the case any more. After substantial scientific study and close observation of my geezer buddies over many decades, I developed a graph showing the relationship between age and how many miles you can reasonably ride in a day.

Like it or not, when we get older, it gets harder to rack up big miles. Serious scientific study went into the above, so if you want to debate our conclusions, bring facts. We want to hear them.

2: Weather

Weather plays a big role in how many miles you can ride in a single day, and here at ExNotes we rely heavily on our weather rock before leaving on any ride. You’ve probably heard about weather rocks. We sell weather rocks here on ExNotes and they are conveniently sized to fit into a tank bag. They work like this…you hang the rock from any available support (you have to supply your own string and support). Here’s how to interpret your weather rock:

- If the rock is wet, it means it’s raining and you should reduce however many miles you had planned to ride by half.
- If the rock is swinging, it means it’s windy that day, and you should reduce your miles by maybe a third.
- If the rock is hot to the touch, it means the temperature is elevated, and you should reduce your miles by maybe a third. Maybe even more.
- If the rock is cold, it means it’s cold, and you probably can ride as long as you dress appropriately. If the rock is really, really cold, though, maybe you should stay home. If there’s ice on the rock, you definitely should stay home.

ExNotes offers weather rocks in brand-specific models:

- If you ride a Harley, we offer chrome weather rocks for $395, chrome with conchos and black leather fringe weather rocks for $495, and chrome, conchos, fringe, and matching do rag weather rocks for $595 (freight and setup fees not included).
- If you ride a BMW, we offer the GS weather rock with an electronically adjustable center of gravity, BMW logos, and a one-year Starbucks gift certificate for $1995.
- If you ride a Ducati, you probably don’t need a weather rock (Ducati riders generally only ride their motorcycles short distances on clear days, anyway, although if you insist, we can provide a red rock for you personally autographed by the former famous racer of your choice, or we can put several rocks in a bag you can shake to sound like a Ducati clutch). Ducati rocks are free, or at least that’s what we tell you (we’ll recover the cost on your first valve adjustment and let you think you got the rock for free).
- If you ride a Chinese motorcycle, we sell an ExNotes weather rock decal for $2 and you can put it on your own rock.

3: Roads

The kind of roads you plan to ride make a huge difference. If it’s all freeway, you’ll be bored but you can rack up huge miles. If it’s surface streets (and a lot of us do everything we can to stay off the freeway), you won’t cover as many miles unless you’re riding in Baja, where you can run 140mph+ on the long straights south of Valle de Los Cirios. If it’s in the mountains, it will be less, unless you’re posting about your skills on Facebook, where the folks who post are world class riders (to hear them tell it). The same holds true for riding in the dirt. You just won’t cover as many miles.

4: Headcount

This is the big one, folks. Maybe I should have listed it first. If I’m riding by myself or with one of my motorcycle buddies in Baja, I can easily do over 500 miles a day. Throw in more people, and…well, read on, my friends.

The number of riders in your group has a profound impact on how many miles you can ride in a day. In the math world, we would say that the miles per day are inversely proportional to the number of riders in your group.

As a starting point (and after extensive research and mathematical modeling), the technical staff here at ExNotes developed Formula A:

A) Miles per Day = (M)/(N)

where:

M = Miles you want to ride
N = Number of riders in your group

What the above means is that as the number of riders in your group increases, the number of miles you can cover in a day decreases. That’s because with more riders you’ll start later in the morning, you’ll be stopping more often, and you’ll take more time at each stop. That is, unless you’re riding with me. Then Formula A reduces to Formula B:

B) Miles per Day = M

where:

M = Miles you want to ride

The B in Formula B stands for Berk because basically I’ll leave you behind if you’re not ready when I am. You can catch up with me later. You might think I’m joking. I’m not.

Formula A varies a little depending on what kind of riders you have in your group, and especially if you have a Rupert. Rupert is the guy who takes 20 minutes putting his motorcycle gear back on after every stop. I once rode with a Rupert who could take 20 minutes just putting his gloves on. He got better when we threatened to cut a few of his fingers off.

5: Your Motorcycle

There are several motorcycle factors that play a huge role in how many miles you can ride in a day. In the old days, a motorcycle was a motorcycle and we did it all with a single bike (touring, off-road, canyon carving, adventure riding, etc.). Today, you gotta get specific:

- ADV-style bikes are actually pretty comfortable and the ergonomics make sense. 500-mile days are easy. My KLR 650 was one of the best touring bikes I ever owned. It had phenomenal ergos.
- Standard motorcycles are also relatively comfortable and you can probably do 500 miles in a day, but you’ll feel it, especially if your bike does not have a windshield. My Enfield 650 Interceptor is a good bike, but it’s the one that wiped me out on that recent 250-mile ride.
- Cruisers look cool in motorcycle ads and they complement do rags and tattoos nicely, but they are less comfortable on long rides. I’ve found I can reasonably do 350-mile days on a cruiser without needing to see a chiropractor. Go much beyond that and you’ll feel it.
- Sportbikes generally cut into big miles, but a lot depends on your age. Good buddy Marty and I rode sportbikes on the 2005 Three Flags Classic (I was on a Triumph Daytona) and we did big mile days on that ride. But I was 20 years younger then and I bent a lot easier. I wouldn’t want to do it again.
- Classic bikes generally require shorter daily riding distances, particularly if they are British and equipped with electricals manufactured by Lucas (as in Lucas, the Prince of Darkness). I think a mid-’60s Triumph Bonneville is the most beautiful motorcycle ever created, but I wouldn’t want to ride Baja on one.

Beyond the style issues outlined above, there are other motorcycle factors to consider:

- Bigger motors generally mean more miles in a day, but bigger motorcycles can slow you down if they suck up too much fuel. One year at the International Motorcycle Show, Yamaha’s bikes all had labels that showed, among other things, fuel economy. The VMax, as noted by Yamaha, averaged 27 miles per gallon. You’d be making a lot more fuel stops on that one. 27 miles per gallon. I can’t make up stuff this good.
- Daily mileage is independent of displacement at 400cc and above (as long as fuel economy is not VMax nutty). Below 400cc, it gets harder (I think) to crank big miles. On my 250cc RX3, 500 miles is a big day for me. But my good buddy Rob once did a 1000-mile Baby Butt on his RX3, so I guess anything is possible.
- Seats can make a big difference. I’ve never found any motorcycle seat to be really comfortable, but I have found a few to be god-awful (my Enfield is working hard to earn that title). If you want to really improve a motorcycle seat so you can up your miles, get a sheepskin cover (I’ve found those to be quite comfortable). There are other options like inflatable seats or custom made seats, but my advice is don’t waste your money. A guy showed up with an inflatable seat cover on a group ride once and it slowed us considerably. It kept blowing off his bike and we had to stop and look for it each time that happened.
- Fuel tank capacity doesn’t make much difference. My KLR could go 250 miles on a tank; my TL1000S would start blinking at 105 miles. You’d think you could ride a lot further with a bigger tank, but I found I need to stop and stretch roughly every hour or two, and if I do that at gas stations, tank capacity doesn’t matter.

What do you think?

So there you have it: Our thoughts on a complex topic.

We know there are keyboard commandos out there who will take exception to our carefully constructed and presented thoughts. If you disagree, let’s hear it. We appreciate all comments, dumbass and otherwise. Please leave your thoughts here on the blog for others to see. Don’t waste your time leaving comments on Facebook (all the cool people leave their comments here…only losers post comments on Facebook). You’ll be a faster rider, you’ll be thinner, and you’ll look better if you post your comments here. And don’t worry about spelling, punctuation, grammar, or capitalization (believe it or not, it will help our readers assess the validity of your thinking).

Like they say, your mileage may vary, and we’re looking forward to your comments. If they’re particularly inane, so much the better. We await your inputs.

Some of our more interesting rides? Right here, folks!

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Check out our MotoBooks!

The Rimfire Series: A 1974 10/22 Mannlicher

By Joe Berk

Sometimes picking the featured photo for each of our blogs is a challenge. Do you select a photo that captures the essence of the story, or do you feature a photo that highlights what you like most? A Mannlicher rifle almost requires a full length photo of the rifle as the lead, but for me and this rifle it was the wood. That’s why I went with the photo above. Here’s a photo showing the entire rifle…a Ruger 10/22 Mannlicher.

Introduced in 1964, the standard model Ruger 10/22 semi-automatic rifle has been in production continuously ever since. During that time, there have been more variations than you can shake a stick at. Walnut, birch, plastic, folding, Circassian stocks. Takedown models. Target models. Mannlichers, standards, and compact models. Bull barrels, regular, short, and long barrels. .22 Long Rifle, .22 Magnum, and .17 caliber rifles. All kinds of commemoratives. With production exceeding 5 million rifles, more Ruger 10/22s have been manufactured than any other .22 rifle (the highest production for any rifle in any caliber, though, is the AK-47, with total production quantities unknown but estimated to exceed 100 million). The 10/22 has a unique rotary magazine design, the rifle is relatively inexpensive, and a 10/22 simple to maintain. I’ve bought and sold several and I still have three or four stashed in the safe. I’ve shot the hell out of a few but I never wore one out. Reliability and longevity are two of any Ruger’s most endearing (and enduring) qualities.

A view of the left side. The rifle has good figure on both sides.

One of my favorite 10/22 configurations is the Mannlicher, which has a full length stock. This is an early one manufactured in 1974. You can make a career out of collecting 10/22s, and there have been several variants of the 10/22 Mannlicher. I’m not a serious enough collector to go after all of them. This particular rifle caught my eye because of the walnut. I’m a sucker for any rifle with highly figured walnut, and good wood is not something you see too often on an inexpensive rifle like the 10/22.

Ruger’s recent run of Mannlicher 10/22s featured a laminated stock. There’s one on Gunbroker.com with a “buy now” price of $895. Hope springs eternal.

I paid way too much for my Mannlicher 10/22 several years ago, but that’s okay. Another way of looking at it is that I bought it too soon. Prices pretty much always go up on guns. This one has already caught up to what I paid.

The 10/22 10-shot rotary magazine, a box of old Federal .22 Long Rifle cartridges, and my Mannlicher.

Close enough for government work and open sights.

A Ruger 10/22 rifle can be surprisingly accurate. I wanted to get out and shoot at 50 yards, but the West End Gun Club is still inaccessible (the stream across the access road is running too high). So I took the Mannlicher to the Magnum Range (an indoor range) a couple of weeks ago. The distance was only 50 feet, but sometimes halitosis is better than no breath at all. I used my range bag as a half-assed bench rest and I managed to shoot a few decent groups using the Ruger’s open sights.

A simple rear sight. The plate can be adjusted up or down for elevation; the sight can be drifted left or right for windage. This one is pretty much right on the money as is.

The Mannlicher’s front sight…a simple gold bead. The metal cap at the tip of the stock is a traditional Mannlicher touch.

Another photo of the metal forearm cap on my 10/22 Mannlicher.

The Mannlicher forward sling swivel is another nice touch. Instead of a screw in single attachment point beneath the forearm, a Mannlicher forward sling attachment straddles the stock as you see here.

The Mannlicher style reaches back to the 1880s. Prussian military officers designed a rifle that featured a full length “Stutzen” stock with a metal cap at the end and a carbine (or short) length. This evolved into a sporting rifle in 1903 (Ernest Hemingway hunted with one). The slim profile, compact size, and full length stock came to be known as the Mannlicher style. I first saw a Mannlicher-style rifle on a limited run, used Model 70 Winchester at the Donn Heath gun shop in Fort Worth, Texas. That Model 70 was under $200 and I wish I had the foresight to buy it. It handled beautifully and it just felt right. Today, those Model 70 Mannlichers are in the stratosphere.

Ernest Hemingway’s Mannlicher. He took it on his first African Safari. In 1997, Hemingway’s Mannlicher sold for $6,325. It would bring considerably more today.

The Winchester Model 70 Mannlicher. These rifles go for $4,000 to $5,000 today.

My 10/22 is an easily handling rifle that fits me well. I don’t shoot it that often, but every time I do, I enjoy it. I’m hoping that West End will open again soon so I can put the Mannlicher to work on the 50-yard range.

This old Ruger 10/22 has a couple of nice features. One is the pistol grip cap. It’s plastic, but it still looks good and this one is in good shape.

Another cool touch is the fancier black plastic butt plate. Other base model 10/22s have a simpler and cheaper butt plate. This one looks good.

So there you have it…the latest installment in our Rimfire Series. There’s more coming, so stay tuned.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

If you would like to see our earlier blogs on .22 rifles and handguns, here’s a set of links.

A Tale of Two .22s (a CZ Model 452 and a Remington Model 504)

A .22 Colt Trooper Mk III

¡Siluetas Metálicas!

First Person Shooter

A 200th Year Ruger .22

A Tale of Two Springfields

The Wayback Machine: Seven Favorite Baja Destinations

Baja is a motorcycling paradise and I have a bunch of favorite destinations there. Seven of them, to be precise, although truth be told, I like everything in Baja except for Tijuana and maybe La Paz and Loreto. That said, my favorites are:

- - Tecate
  - San Quintin
  - Cataviña
  - Guerrero Negro
  - San Ignacio
  - Santa Rosalia
  - Concepcion Bay

Here’s where they are on a map:

So what’s so great about these places? Read on, my friends.

Tecate

Tecate is the gateway to the middle of northern Baja, and it’s the easiest point of entry. Both Tijuana and Mexicali are too big and too complicated, and the Mexican Customs guys are too official in those bigger cities. Tecate is a friendly place. The last time I picked up a tourist visa in Tecate, the Customs officer tried to sell me salsa he and his family made as a side gig. That’s what the place is like. I love it.

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If you’re into fine dining (not as in expensive dining, but just great food), it’s hard to go wrong anywhere in Baja. Tecate has some of the best, from street taco vendors to Malinalli’s to Amore’s. I could spend a week just in Tecate. It’s that good.

Uncle Joe Gresh with street tacos in Tecate. Wow, were they ever good.

The buffet at Malinalli’s is regional, awesome, and inexpensive. It’s a hidden treasure.

Dos Joes’ motos on an Enfield expedition that took us through Tecate.

The Tecate brewery dominate the Tecate skyline and is visible from just about anywhere in town. A can of ice cold Tecate with sea salt around the rim and a bit of lime juice…life doesn’t get any better.

San Quintin

San Quintin is 186.4 miles south of the border on Baja’s Pacific coast. It’s usually a quiet ag town that has a lot of things going for it, including interesting hotels, good food, and Bahia San Quintin. The Old Mill hotel and its associated restaurant, Eucalipto, is my personal favorite. The hotel is about 4 miles west of the Transpeninsular Highway, and what used to be a harrowing soft sand ride to it is now easy peasy…the road is paved and riding there is no longer a test of your soft sand riding skills. The Eucalipto restaurant is second to none.

What could be better than an ice cold Tecate overlooking Bahia San Quintin after a day’s riding in Baja? We once saw a California gray whale from this very spot.

A man, a motorcycle, and Mexico….the sign on the Transpenisular Highway pointing toward Bahia San Quintin and the Old Mill Hotel. The bike? That’s the 650cc Royal Enfield, perfect for riding Baja. But then just about any motorcycle is perfect for riding Baja.

Bahia San Quintin at dawn. It’s an awesome spot.

Uncle Joe enjoying breakfast in the Old Mill’s Eucalipto. It is an exquisite restaurant.

You’ll notice at the top of my scribblings about San Quintin I said it is usually a quiet town. The one exception for us was when there was a labor riot and we were caught in it. The Mexican infantryman about 80 miles north of San Quintin told me the road was closed, but his English matched my Spanish (neither are worth a caca), and without me understanding what I was riding into, he let me proceed. It’s not an experience I would care to repeat. But it’s the only event of its type I ever experienced in Old Mexico, and I’d go back in a heartbeat.

The Cataviña Boulder Fields

Ah, Cataviña. Rolling down the Transpeninsular Highway, about 15 miles before you hit the wide spot in the road that is Cataviña you enter the boulder fields. Other-worldly is not too strong a description, and if the place wasn’t so far south of the border it would probably be used more often by Hollywood in visits to other planets. The boulders are nearly white, they are huge, and the juxtaposition of their bulk with the bright blue sky punctuated by Cardon cactus.

Pastel geology. The area really is as beautiful as the photos depict it to be.

I get a funny feeling every time I enter this part of Baja. Not funny as in bad, but funny as in I feel like I’m where I belong. I once rolled through this region in the early morning hours with my daughter and she told me “you know, it’s weird, Dad. I feel like I’m home.” She understood (as in completely understood) the magic that is Baja.

I like the area and its stark scenery so much that one of my photos became the cover of Moto Baja! I grabbed that shot from the saddle at about 30 mph on a CSC 150 Mustang replica, which I subsequently rode all the way down to Cabo San Lucas (that story is here).

You should buy a copy or three. They make great gifts.

Every time I roll through Cataviña with other riders, the dinner conversation invariably turns to how the boulders formed. When I was teaching at Cal Poly Pomona, I asked one of my colleagues in the Geology Department. He know the area as soon as I mentioned it. The answer? Wind erosion.

Guerrero Negro

The Black Warrior. The town is named after a ship that went down just off its coast. It’s a salt mining town exactly halfway down the peninsula, and it’s your ticket in for whale watching and the best fish tacos in Baja (and that’s saying something). I’ve had a lot of great times in Guerrero Negro. It’s about 500 miles south of the border. You can see the giant steel eagle marking the 28th Parallel (the line separating Baja from Baja Sur) a good 20 miles out, and from there, it’s a right turn for the three mile ride west into town. Malarrimo’s is the best known hotel and whale watching tour, but there are several are they are all equally good. It you can’t get a room at Malarrimo’s, try the Hotel Don Gus.

CSC RX3 motorcycles at the Hotel Don Gus. We used to do annual Baja tours with CSC…those were fun times and great trips, and introduced a lot of folks to the beauty of Baja.

What it’s all about…getting up close and personal with the California gray whales. They are in town from January through March.

Tony, taco chef extraordinaire. You might think I’m exaggerating. I’m not.

It’s worth the 500-miles trek to Guerrero Negro just to savor Tony’s fish tacos. You might think I’m exaggerating. But like I said above…I’m not.

Man does not live by fish tacos alone, so for breakfast or dinner, it’s either the restaurant at Malaririmo’s or the San Remedio, a block north of the main drag into town. You won’t be disappointed at either.

Sue’s photo of a Guerrero Negro osprey enjoying some sushi.

After you leave Guerrero Negro and continue south, the Transpeninsular Highway turns southeast to take you diagonally across the Baja peninsula. About 70 miles down the road (which is about half the distance to the eastern shores of Baja and the Sea of Cortez along Mexico Highway 1) you’ll see the turn for San Ignacio. It’s another one of Baja’s gems.

San Ignacio

San Ignacio is an oasis in the middle of the desert that forms much of Baja. The Jesuits introduced date farming to the region hundreds of years ago, and it’s still here in a big way. Leave Guerrero Negro, head southeast on Mexico Highway 1, and 70 miles later you run into a Mexican Army checkpoint, a series of switchbacks through a lava field, and when you see the date palms, turn right.

The San Ignacio church, built as a mission in the 1700s, dominates the center of San Ignacio. It’s a beautiful spot, one of the most photogenic in all of Baja.

Another photo of the San Ignacio Mission. You’ll want to grab some photos in San Ignacio.

Dates? Nope, not on that trip, but dates are one of the things San Ignacio is known for. I’ll bet they are delicious.

San Ignacio has a town square that’s right out of central casting, there’s a little restaurant that serves the best chile rellenos in all of Mexico (I’m not exaggerating), and the place just has a laid back, relaxing feel about it.

Santa Rosalia

You know, this town is another one of Baja’s best kept secrets. As you travel south on Highway 1, San Ignacio is the first town you encounter after traveling diagonally across the peninsula. Folks dismiss it because it’s an industrial town, but they do so in ignorance. There’s a lot of cool stuff in this place.

One of the things that’s unique about Santa Rosalia is the all-wooden architecture. The town was originally built by a French mining company (Boleo) and they built it they way they did in France. Like the Hotel Frances, which sits high on a mesa overlooking the town and the Sea of Cortez. I love staying there.

The Hotel Frances. It used to be a brothel.

There’s a cool mining musuem a block or two away from the Frances, and it’s worth a visit, too.

There are many cool things in Santa Rosalia, and one of the best is the Georg Eiffel church. It was designed by the same guy guy who did the Eiffel town.

Santa Rosalia’s church. It’s an unexpected delight. And I’m not even Catholic.

Inside Santa Rosalia’s Georg Eiffel church.

Stained glass. Photos ops abound in Santa Rosalia.

I’ve heard people dismiss Santa Rosalia as a gritty, industrial place not worth a stop. Trust me on this: They’re wrong. It’s one of my favorite Baja spots.

Bahía Concepción

Concepción Bay is easily the most scenic spot in Baja. It’s just south of Mulege (another delightful little town, and the subject of an upcoming ExNotes blog). Bahía Concepción runs for maybe 20 miles along the eastern edge of the Baja peninsula. I’ve seen whales from the highway while riding along its edge, the beaches are magnificent, and the photo ops just don’t stop. The contrast between the mountains and Cardon cactus on one side and the pelicans diving into bright green water is view from the saddle you won’t soon forget.

World-famous novelist and motorcycle adventurer Simon Gandolfi andn yours truly on 150cc scooters. We were on our way back from Cabo San Lucas when we stopped for this Bahía Concepción photo. Hardtail 150cc scooters. Up and down the length of Baja. I think about that ride every time I see a GS parked at a Starbuck’s.

So there you have it: My take on seven favorite spots in Baja? How about you? Do you have any favorite Baja destinations? Let us know here in the comments sction!