If you’re on the Pacific Coast Highway and you’re riding through the little fishing village of Moss Landing, it’s nearly impossible to miss the moto art at the J&S Eagle Iron and Leather Shop, although that’s exactly what I did on a trek north a few years (no doubt because it was raining so hard). On the way back, though, the sun was out and I when I saw these I knew I had to stop for a few photos. I shot these photos about 5 years ago and I don’t know if these moto sculptures are still there. It might be worth a ride to check it out.
Ernie Buck, the store manager, told me these gigantic bike sculptures are Hecho en Mexico and go for about $20K each. I guess that’s not that far-fetched considering what a new Harley or BMW costs these days, and these things are easily three times the size of those bikes.
The first moto gigante was constructed mostly of license plates. Bear in mind that all three of these sculptures use giant tractor tires (that will give you a sense of their size). Like I said above, they’re huge!
The next one was fabricated from horseshoes. Horseshoes! Imagine that! Where do artists get their ideas?
It was cool. I liked the gangster whitewalls. I had a set of those on my ’92 Softail. You know, the top of those tires was about the same height as me!
The third bike was fabricated almost entirely of shovels.
Maybe the bike above is a Shovelhead (you know, the one that came after the Panhead). It was cool.
You know, the bikes above make for interesting displays, but I wondered where I would put such a thing if I owned it. You’d need a huge lawn or a spacious home in which to display this kind of art, and even then, I’m pretty sure Sue would have none of it. They sure were interesting and they made for cool photos.
The Pacific Coast Highway is an amazing road and it’s always been one of my favorite rides.
I’ve traveled extensively in Baja and I want to get down there again as soon as possible. It’s the best riding on the planet, the food is amazing, the scenery is incredible, and the people are great. The whale watching is a religious experience. I know Baja is almost indescribably awesome and you do, too, if you’ve been there. When I talk about Baja with folks who haven’t been there, though, the question always emerges: Is it safe?
The short answer is yes. But one time, we came pretty close to it not being safe. On one trip out of many over the last 30+ years in Baja, Susie and I had a bad experience. I almost didn’t write this blog because I didn’t want to scare anyone away from Baja. I’ve been to Baja many times since, and I plan to keep visiting Baja.
The best bike for Baja…my CSC RX3 on the malecon in Loreto, BCS.
So, with that as an introduction, let me add a bit more. I was setting up the first CSC Baja expedition, with the idea being that we would offer free tours to Baja with the purchase of a CSC motorcycle. That idea worked fabulously well and we successfully ran the CSC tours for years, treating people to the ride of their life, selling a lot of motorcycles, and generally having an inordinate amount of fun. It convinced me that the RX3 motorcycle was possibly the best bike ever for exploring Baja, and I still feel that way. You may disagree, but hey, it’s okay to be wrong.
But I digress. To get back on topic, I hadn’t been to Baja in a while and I was taking a big group down, so Susie and I rolled south in my Subie on a pre-ride scouting expedition. With the intro stuff done, here’s the blog I wrote for CSC on that trip.
Susie and I are down in Baja scouting the locations for the Inaugural Baja run, and it sure has been an interesting two days. I didn’t have any Internet access in Catavina yesterday, but I have a spotty connection in Santa Rosalia tonight, right on the Sea of Cortez, and we’ll see how much of this gets through.
First, a few quick photos of our first couple of stops…
Rolling across the US border into Mexico…Jesus, a giant statue on the way to Ensenada.Breakfast in Velero’s in Ensenada…worth the trip into Mexico all by itself!The Blue Pearl, on the beach…
After we rolled through Ensenada, it was on through the mountains south and Baja’s agricultural district. Boy oh boy, did we have an adventure. All that stuff I’ve been telling you about how safe it is down here? Well, I still believe it, but my confidence (and Susie’s) was sorely tested yesterday. See that guy in the photo below? FYI, you’re not supposed to take photos at these roadblocks, and I want you to keep that in mind on our CSC Baja trip…but I never have done too well following rules. I’m talking about the infantryman talking to the car in front of us at our first military roadblock (one of many Puesto Militars) on the way down. He’s the dude standing to the left of the white car.
Mr. “Okay, go ahead…”
Well, things got very interesting after that. That photo was about 175 miles south of the border, just north of San Quintin, where we got caught in a mini-labor riot. Turns out the migrant workers down here are not happy with their wages on the farms. A lot of them come from mainland Mexico with their families, including their kids, whom they evidently put to work picking whatever crops they pick in the fields north of San Quintin. The Mexican government is clamping down on child labor, so that affects these people and they are plenty angry about it. Real angry, apparently.
One of the military checkpoint guys told us the road was closed (that dude in the photo above) about 80 km ahead but he didn’t speak English and he didn’t tell us why. I thought it was because they were working on the road, which happens frequently in Baja, and when that happens the road is closed for about 20 minutes. Then you can proceed. Happens all the time. Amazingly (based on what we found out a few miles down the road) that young soldier let the car in front of us proceed, and then he let us proceed.
About 30 miles later, we started seeing what we thought were small piles of asphalt on the road with lots of wires (you know, like for fixing potholes, which they have a lot of in Baja, but I couldn’t figure out what the wires were). We saw this for about the next 15 miles. We saw hundreds of people milling around, too; far more than I’ve ever seen in these little farming towns.
It turns out that we what thought were piles of asphalt were actually the remains of burning tires. As in “let’s light a fire and shut the main highway down burning tires.” The ag workers have been having demonstrations (actually, labor riots) in the San Quintin area, and we found out (the hard way) that this had been going on for 2 days.
We went a few more miles and encountered a roadblock (more burning tire remnants and boulders blocking the road) with about 50 men milling about who immediately surrounded us. They wouldn’t let us go forward or turn around. One of them threatened us and the Subaru with a 2×4. They were all over the car. Susie had the presence of mind to lock the doors. These guys were mad at the world, and we were the world at that instant. I didn’t know what to do, so I fell back on what always seemed to work elsewhere in the world: I asked the guy who seemed to be in charge if I could pay the toll to get through. He seemed genuinely surprised at that, he thought about it for maybe 5 seconds (duly observed by his subordinate seditionists), and then he realized this might be a viable alternative income stream (Sue designs and manages automated toll roads in the US; it seems to work for us). Our Mexican revolutionary said, “hokay,” I gave him a ten dollar bill, and he told the insurrectionists “let them pass.” Crisis averted. Whew!
The tire remnants continued for another 5 miles, but there were no more roadblocks. While we were stopped at the impromptu toll plaza, one of the seditionists keyed my car door on Susie’s side with initials, presumably the initials of their labor movement (LPS or something like that). I’ll guess I’ll get my body shop guy to repaint it when I get home. That little Subie is going to end up having more bodywork than Joan Rivers. A couple of months ago I dropped one of the RX3s into it. This week it was the Nuevo Mexican Revolution. I’m keeping the body shop business alive in California. Or maybe not. I might leave those initials there as a war wound. At the very minimum, I am re-christening the Subie. She’s no longer the Starship Subaru (sorry, Carl, that was a good moniker, but its time has come and gone). My car is now known as the War Wagon.
We found out from a busload of people in El Rosario (next town down the before getting into the mountains) that they expect the demonstrations to continue for a couple more days and then it should be over. One guy had his windows shattered, probably by the same guy we saw with the 2×4.
Folks, all the tourists down here (and there are lots of us) were talking about this. No one had ever experienced anything like it before, and most of us have been coming down here for decades. It’s a blip, and I’m guessing it is already over. It sure was exciting, though.
We continued south after that… and that meant it was time for a few more photos.
Mama Espinosa’s in El Rosario…great burritos!Cardon cactus in the Vizcaino Desert
At one point on our way to Guerrero Negro, I spotted several vultures fighting over a dead rabbit. Time to put the 70-300 on the Nikon and see how close I could get.
The Baja Department of Sanitation hard at work.
When you roll into Guerrero Negro, there’s a giant Mexican flag flying in front of a giant metal structure (an artist’s interpretation of the Mexican Eagle). You’re not supposed to take pictures here (it’s a military installation), but I still had the 300mm lens on the camera and I got sneaky.
The largest flag I’ve ever seen.
That point is right on the 28th Parallel, which marks the border between Baja and Baja Sur (the two Mexican states in Baja).
You know, being anywhere near the 28th Parallel and not stopping for a fish taco or two at Tony’s would be a crime. I’ve been stopping at his truck for the last 21 years…every time I come down here. What’s cool about it is Tony always recognizes me, even though sometimes it’s a year or more since I’ve seen him!
The best fish tacos in the world!
My good buddy Tony Lopez, who is a fish taco chef extraordinaire!
Tony told me he’s been in business for 22 years. I bought my first fish taco from him 21 years ago.
We stopped in San Ignacio next and I grabbed a couple of photos of (and in) the mission there.
The San Ignacio Mission, built by the Jesuits in the 1700s…it’s still in use as a working churchFlowers inside the MissionOne of the figures inside the San Ignacio Mission
That’s it for tonight, my friends. Time to sign off and get some shuteye. We’re headed south again tomorrow. Watch for more photos!
So there you have it. With more than three decades of exploring Mexico under my belt, this was my one negative Baja experience. I communicated the above to all the followers we had on the CSC blog and asked if they wanted to change the trip to someplace else here in the US, and everyone answered with a resounding No! We did the Baja trip with 15 or so riders, and we did several more CSC Baja rides after that. Every one of those trips was a blast. Here’s a video I prepared from the first CSC ride:
You can read more about Baja and our adventures down there in Moto Baja.
I made a lot of good friends on those Baja rides, many of whom still ride their CSC motorcycles and many of whom regularly follow the ExNotes blog. You’ve seen their comments here over the last four or five years.
To me, Baja is the best riding there is. If you’re headed into Baja, make sure you get insurance. It’s not likely you’ll need it, but the Mexican government requires that you be insured and your regular insurance won’t cover you in Mexico. The insurance provider we always go with is BajaBound.
Two or three years ago Joe Gresh and I provided product reviews on our Viking motorcycle jackets. We like them a lot and you may have noticed that Viking advertises on our website. Both jackets have given us good service and I’ll provide links to those reviews at the end of this blog.
The topic today is the Viking Momentum small street and sportbike tail bag. I’ve found bags like this to be ideal for my travels through Baja and elsewhere. I used similar equipment on my KLR 650 and I found that I could carry more than I needed in Baja and elsewhere. Gresh suggested the Viking bag and I ordered one. It arrived quickly and it was well packaged.
The Viking Momentum bag arrived in a robust cardboard box.
After taking the Viking bag out of the box, I put it on my Royal Enfield. The size was about perfect. What I especially like is that I can swing my left over it when getting on and off the motorcycle. With larger tail bags, getting on and off the motorcycle becomes a problem, but not with the Viking bag.
The Viking Momentum tail bag.
The Viking bag has a hinged lid and lots of mounting points. I’ve not used the slotted deal on top of the lid yet. It looks cool. The bag also has a carrying handle. It’s a well-designed and well-built motorcycle accessory. I examined the bag closely and I am impressed with the build quality. I could not find any defects and no indications of sloppy workmanship.
The Momentum has a carrying handle and two zipper handles for opening an expanding the bag.
Before I installed the bag on my Royal Enfield, I opened it to see the interior. The Momentum comes with a rain liner, a set of straps, and spare nylon web bungee cord attach points. You can rivet these to the bag (in addition to the four already present) or you can use them as replacements if the ones on the bag detach.
Inside the Momentum I found a rain liner and extra straps. You can use the extra straps for additional tie down points. I think I could use the straps to turn the Momentum bag into a backpack.Extra straps and spare D-ring attachments.
The Viking Momentum bag has four Velcro straps on the bottom. These pass under the seat, stick to each other, and secure the bag to the seat.
The Momentum upside down. The Velcro straps pass under the motorcycle seat and attach to each other.
To mount the bag, I took the seat off the Enfield. The Enfield and Viking designs makes this easy. On the Enfield, the ignition key unlocks the right side panel, it comes off, and that reveals a cable pull button that unlocks the seat. Easy peasy.
Unlocking the Enfield side panel to gain access to the seat release.The Enfield’s seat release.The Enfield seat removed from the motorcycle.
Once the seat was off the bike, it was a simple matter to mate the Viking Momentum’s mounting straps underneath.
The Momentum tail bag strapped to the Enfield seat.
I first mounted the seat so its carrying handle faced forward, as shown below. Then I reversed it. I’ll say more about that in a bit.
The Momentum installed on the Enfield.
The Viking bag has two zippers around the exterior. The upper one is for the lid; it provides access to the bag’s interior. There’s another zipper around the bag’s base; unzipping it allows the bag to expand and approximately doubles its volume.
With the bottom seat unzipped, allowing the Momentum to expand.
I thought it would be cool if the expanded bag would hold a full-face helmet, but it did not. That’s okay. If I put my helmet inside, there wouldn’t be room for anything else.
There are a couple of zippers inside the Viking bag. One is on the bag’s inner walls. The other is on the underside of the lid. You can store things in the lid compartment like your phone, a map, a Baja tourist visa, your BajaBound insurance paperwork, and other stuff.
The Momentum interior.The underside of the Momentum lid. You can unzip the zipper and store small items inside the lid’s pocket.Like most motorcycle apparel and many luggage items, the Momentum is manufactured in Pakistan.
The Viking Momentum includes a rain liner. It packs up compactly. You can keep your stuff dry in the rain liner inside the Momentum bag. It’s a nice touch.
The Momentum rain liner.
With the Momentum bag’s handle facing forward, I didn’t like how the bag was positioned on the seat. It provided adequate room, but no extra room. The Enfield has a hard seat. I’m getting older and my butt is aging along with the rest of me. I need extra room to move around on a motorcycle seat, and with the bag mounted with the carrying handle forward I didn’t have any extra room. I also noticed that the base zipper (the one you unzip to expand the bag) pull was digging into the Enfield’s Naugahyde surface. I didn’t want to disrespect the Nauga that gave up its hyde for my seat, so I turned the bag around and moved it more toward the rear.
With the Momentum mounted with the handle facing forward, the expansion zipper toggle is against the seat surface. I turned the bag around to eliminate this issue.
When I did that, the Velcro straps are still captured by the seat’s base mounting points (the bag won’t slide off), and I eliminated the zipper-to-Naugahyde interference.
The Velcro straps secured on the motorcycle seat after reversing the bag.
Cosmetically, the seat looks great in either orientation.
The Momentum mounted in the reverse position. The expansion zipper handle is off the seat.
I once led a bunch of guys on a short Baja weekend ride about 15 years ago. One had a Harley, he was new to motorcycling, and he had never done an overnight ride. We met at a Denny’s before heading for Mexico, and when he rolled up on his Electra-Fried, he and that Harley looked like they escaped from the opening scene on the old Beverly Hillbillies show. The only thing missing was Granny in her rocking chair. He told me his saddlebags and his Tour Pak were stuffed, and he also had two or three gym bags bungied to the bike. This was a weekend trip to San Felipe, about 130 south of the border, and we were only staying two nights. My KLR had a medium tank bag and nothing else (and that tank bag also held a camera). “I’m ready for a week down there,” my friend announced from his adventure Glide.
“Well,” I said, “I’ve got my Nikon and a spare set of underwear, so I guess I’m good for a week, too.”
My boat anchor Nikon D810 and a Nikkor 24-120 lens in the Momentum. I really like this. The camera and the lens cost almost as much as the Enfield.
I guess I shouldn’t make fun of that guy. I get it; he was at the front end of the learning curve, and we’ve all been there. I once took an overpacked Harley into Baja, too. We were going to Cabo, taking the ferry to mainland Mexico, heading down to Guadalajara, and coming back through Sinaloa cartel country (you can read about that trip here). I did not yet know about the virtues of traveling light and good ballistic nylon gear like the Viking Momentum bag.
How not to pack a motorcycle. The Momentum tail bag is a much better approach.
The point is this: You don’t need to carry a lot on a motorcycle trip (even if you write a blog), and you can get a lot of stuff in the Viking Momentum. I like it. The Momentum tail bag is a good deal; on the Viking website it retails for $99.99.
So there you go: My take on the Viking Momentum tail bag. It’s a good thing to have for your motorcycle but don’t take my word for it. Listen to what Bernadette has to say.
I mentioned above I would provide links to the Viking motorcycle jacket reviews. Here’s mine, and here’s Joe Gresh’s.
Fallingwater, a famous Frank Lloyd Wright structure in southwestern Pennsylvania, is a place we have long wanted to visit. We finally checked that box late last year and it was well worth the trip. It’s one of Frank Lloyd Wright’s most famous architectural accomplishments, designed in 1935 and completed in 1939 for the wealthy Kaufman family. The Kaufmans owned a large department store empire in nearby Pittsburgh, and Fallingwater was their vacation home. The Kaufman family turned the estate over to the Western Pennsylvania Conservancy and it now operates as an area open to the public.
A Commonwealth Treasure indeed!
The Kaufman family’s request to Wright was straightforward: They wanted something unique, something that merged the mountains’ natural beauty with the architecture, and they wanted the local stream to run through the home. The resulting home became one of Wright’s best known accomplishments. Frank Lloyd Wright had a distinguished career and he is arguably one of the most famous architects who ever lived. Fallingwater is the only Wright home open to the public.
A river runs through it…the view from one of the balconies at Fallingwater. Check out the leaves turning color.Note the layered sandstone construction.
The Kaufmans asked Wright to use natural materials from the area and he did. Much of the home is constructed of local sandstone. They also asked Wright to design the interior furnishings and decor. It all works well together.
A local artist taking it all in.Wright also designed the interior and its furnishings.The family room.Wright chotchkas.Furniture crafted from local trees.More interior pieces.This looks southwestern, but it works with the sandstone walls.
In 2019, Fallingwater was added to the UNESCO World Heritage List. It is also a National Historic Landmark, it is a Commonwealth of Pennsylvania Treasure, the American Institute of Architects named it the best all time work of American Architecture. All that’s great, but take it from us, the ride and the place are awesome. As a destination, Fallingwater is tough to beat.
A photo from the exterior, showing the balconies and the surrounding woodlands.
Fallingwater is in the Laurel Highlands area about 70 miles outside of Pittsburgh. It’s a mountainous area, and because of that, the roads are perfect for great riding. The scenery, the roads, and the riding in this area are pretty much what good motorcycle riding is all about in all but the winter months. Fall is one of the best times to take it in as the leave turning colors add a further visual treat to what is already a delight to the senses. The trick is to do it late enough in the year that the leaves are turning, but not so late that the temps are too low or the roads are too icy. We were lucky; our timing was perfect.
You can’t just show up at Fallingwater. You have to make a reservation and pay for your tickets online. Trust me on this: The tour is money well spent.
I’ve mentioned my Casio Marlin (also known as the Duro) a few times in previous blogs. I love this watch for any number of reasons: It’s accurate, it’s rugged, it’s waterproof, it’s comfortable, and it’s inexpensive. It’s a diver’s watch, but I’m not a diver. I just like the look of thing. I’ve worn it on a few big moto trips including the ride around the Andes Mountains in Colombia. It poured cats and dogs on that trip. The Marlin was unfazed.
At about $50, this watch has to be the deal of the century. Just for grins I grabbed a picture of the Rolex Sea Dweller and put it along side the Casio. If you own a Rolex don’t get your shorts in a knot ((I own one, too). But the comparison has to make you wonder: Let’s see, $50 for the Casio and $16,500 (or whatever it is these days) for the Sea Dweller (if you can find one and in today’s market that’s not easy). As Aristotle would say….hmmmmm.
Yeah, you can go a little deeper with the Rolex (they say down to 3,900 meters). My Casio says it’s good for 200 meters. That’s over 600 feet down. It’s not likely I’ll ever visit those regions and if I ever do I can guarantee you the time of day is not what will be on my mind.
I’ve owned my Marlin for about 10 years now. I think I’ve had to replace the battery twice. My guy charges me $3.25 to install a new battery (parts and labor). The strap got stiff and cracked, so I’ve replaced that once (I think it was $10). I checked and the cost of a replacement resin Rolex band is close to $300. On the other hand, the Rolex is self-winding, so it never needs a battery. Again….hmmmm.
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On that comfort thing…the Casio Marlin is about the right size for a man’s watch and the resin band is very comfortable. I always forget I have it on and on more than a few occasions I’ve gone into the water wearing it (swimming, showering, and most recently, almost being swept away in my Subaru going to the gun club). It doesn’t matter to the Casio. I’d say it’s indestructable, but some Internet weenie would want to get into a urinating contest about that.
Boarding the ferry in Magangué on the Magdelena River. Even there, the Casio’s good looks and functionality appealed to an onlooker.
When I rode Colombia with Juan and Carlos, one time we had to wait a couple of hours on a hot and humid afternoon for the ferry to come in and carry us down the Magdalena River to Mompos. While we were waiting in what little shade we could find in Magangué, a young Colombian boy came over and touched the Casio, nodding his approval. If I had another watch with me I would have given it to him. I still think about that on occasion and wish I had given it to that kid. I think when I bought my Marlin, they were $39. That young fellow most likely would have cherished the Casio the rest of his life (as I will). Maybe I need another ride in Colombia. If I go again I’ll throw an extra Marlin in one of the panniers. You know, just to be prepared.
Do you ever have those moments when you wake up unsure of where you are? I awoke to the sound of birds, more specifically, parrots, and the smell of fresh tortillas and knew instantly that this was not home; I was in Baja in Mulege and wholly smitten with my room with her stone walls, comfy bed, and protective mosquito netting. I didn’t want to get out of bed until I remembered that I had made plans to go horseback riding to the bay.
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Throwing on my clothes and double-timing it to the restaurant, I had just enough time for a cup of coffee and water before my guide arrived to take me to the ranch, which was less of a ranch and more of a lean-to along the highway with both our horses tied and already saddled. I met my girl for the day, Lupita. She had enough spunk to whinny at our arrival and appreciate the carrots I brought to help form this new friendship. Our saddlebag were loaded with swimwear and lunch, and we set off for a leisurely ride to the bay.
Horseback riding in the Sea of Cortez.
Muscle memory took over from riding horses in my youth, and I gave in to the morning’s joy and the view of Conception Bay. Riding down the beach at a slow gallop letting our horses have their lead and finding a bit of shade, we stopped for an early lunch of fresh fruit, good tequila, and some freshly made empanadas. After lunch, I asked if I could take off the saddle and ride bareback, something I had not done since childhood. It seemed a perfect idea for this glorious morning. Surprisingly my guide said yes and permitted me to ride Lupita bareback into the bay to enjoy a good swim. I had forgotten the thrill of entering a body of water on horseback; Lupita seemed to enjoy the experience as she left the security of the ocean bottom and took us further out into the bay. The morning flew by and soon it was time to return to the beach and make our way back to the corral.
Sunrise on the Rio Mulege.A river runs through it…the Rio Mulege in Mulege.
Returning to Historica Casita in the heat of the early afternoon, I did what any sensible local would do. I retreated to the coolness of my room for a proper afternoon siesta. After a cold shower and fresh clothes, I headed out to explore. With the help of a newfound local friend and a Google search, I learned that the Mulege indigenous population has a long and rich history that dates back centuries. It is believed that the region’s first inhabitants were hunter-gatherers who lived in small bands, but the arrival of the Mission changed their lives forever. Spanish missionaries established the mission in 1730, teaching the local population how to farm and build adobe structures and simple homes. I was also happy to learn there has been an effort to preserve their history by preserving ancient artifacts and teaching younger generations about their heritage.
The Mission in Mulege.
While the Mission was closed, I could still walk the grounds and view the river from the vantage point of the Mission, as it is built on one of the highest points in Mulege. Wandering back down the hill, I walked the river’s edge, exploring the town and the small community of locals and ex-pats. As I made my way back to the hotel, I realized how hungry I was and looked forward to an evening in the hotel courtyard, a good dinner, and a freshly squeezed margarita. The evening did not disappoint as I sat visiting with locals and a young family visiting from the mainland. Soon I was off to bed with the promise of an early rise and the chance to explore the many beaches along Conception Bay.
Sunrise on the Sea of Cortez.A fine Mulege breakfast.
The following day I was back on my bike and headed towards my next stop, Playa Santispac, a short 25 kilometers south on Highway 1. I knew I only had a few hours before the oppressive heat and humidity would force me back to the room, and I was determined to make the most of the day. Cresting the ridge, I was overlooking the bay with her teal-colored water inviting a closer look. Santispac beach has a restaurant and several palapas stationed along the beach; as I rode my bike down the beach, I decided a swim was in order, followed by a hearty breakfast at the modest beachside restaurant.
An overlanding rig.My BMW on a beach in Mexico.
Swim and breakfast completed, I headed further south, stopping at each beach I passed and settling on what has become one of my favorite beaches, Playa el Requeson. The white sand and sand spit at low tide, taking you to a small island, was more than I could resist. Setting up my camp chair, I soon made friends with an overlander couple from England. Borrowing their snorkeling gear I enjoyed a quick swim out to the island, enjoying the starfish and rockfish along the shore. I reluctantly returned for one last night in Mulege with a new plan for the following day, to ride to Loreto for lunch and then return to Playa el Requeson to camp for two nights.
Loreto’s Malecon.Loreto has a rich history.
Loreto has a rich history that dates back to the 16th century when Spanish missionaries established the first mission in the area. Indigenous people then populated the area, and over time, it became an important fishing port for the region. Today Loreto is a popular tourist destination complete with a Malecon along her waterfront. Loreto has an historic town square with a well-preserved mission and museum. With a population of around 25,000, finding lodging at every price point is easy, as are the town’s many services.
The Loreto Mission.
After a lovely day sightseeing, I headed about an hour and a half back north to Playa el Requeson to find a bit of shade and a good place for my tent. The afternoon was blazing hot as I headed inland along Hwy 1, as I once again cursed myself for selecting June to make this ride. Complaining aside, I arrived and indulged in a long swim to take the sting out of the day’s heat. I found my new friends in the overlanding vehicle who gave me the gift of a cold drink with ice and offered the shade of their massive vehicle to pitch my tent. The day gave way to a glorious sunset, and soon, we had a modest fire complete with fresh fish for dinner. With a million stars out for our pleasure, full bellies, and the delight of margaritas on the beach, the night was spent with storytelling of our past adventures. Both Stephen and Shelly’s stories surpassed mine as they shared their adventures traveling through three continents over the past several years.
The two days camping on the beach flew by, and it was sadly time to make my way back north. I planned to head to San Felipe, but the reality of the heat made heading back to the Pacific side an easy choice. Retracing my ride through Baja allowed me to revisit a few of my favorite places and discover a few new ones to ensure this would not be my last ride there!
In Part 1 I shared with you my adventure from Sedona, AZ, crossing the border for the first time on a bike, and heading down Mexico’s Transpeninsular Highway to Guerrero Negro. This blog continues the adventure.
After an early morning departure leaving behind the comforts of the Hotel Mision Cataviña, I continued on Highway 1, enjoying a quiet morning and the rare good luck of an empty road. Settling into the ride with a deep breath that allowed me to loosen my tight muscles after two long days of riding, I felt the joy start to creep in as I took in the vastness and emptiness of the Sonoran Desert. The fierceness of the summer sun had already begun turning the winter greenness to a light wheat color. This did not diminish the stark beauty of her desert, with the surrounding hills in the distance with their deep purple shadows demanding a second look. My bike was doing great; her little single-cylinder engine was a gem off-road and could manage up to 80 miles an hour, more than enough in Baja. She was a perfect bike for the moment, made for Baja.
The desert south of Cataviña.
Rolling down into Villa Jesus Maria I was more than ready for a break, something cold to drink and some much-needed gasoline. I did well with the drink and break, but as can happen in Baja, the Pemex had no gas. It was another 40 kilometers to Guerrero Negro; as I emptied my MSR liter of gas into my tank, I said a little prayer to both Jesus and Maria to extend my range to Guerrero Negro.
In the Guerrero Negro salt flats.At Scammon’s Lagoon in Guerrero Negro.
Prayers answered, by perhaps both Jesus and Maria, I arrived with a smidgin of gas fumes left in my tank. Reaching Hotel Don Gus, which several riders had recommended as both affordable and bike safe, I pulled into the dirt parking lot to check in. This is a typical motel-style lodging with comfortable rooms and a simple restaurant serving hearty portions. My room settled, I headed for a taco truck that every rider raves about, Tony’s Fish Tacos. Let me tell you, I often dream of Tony’s fish and shrimp tacos with the perfect batter and lime crema!
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Fully satisfied and with still enough daylight left, I went to explore the salt flats famous in this area. A short ride from town, the salt flats looked like a mirage at times, fooling the eye into believing it was a vast lake. This soon gave way to the commercial operation with magnificent mounds of salt with trucks and bulldozers on the top of the salt hill so high that the trucks looked like toys. Soon I was passing the small boat dock and positioned my bike for a good pic. The sun was warm but blissfully not hot with the Pacific breeze. I set up my small camp chair, pulled out a flask filled with an excellent local Vino Tinto, and gave a silent toast to a perfect Baja day.
A Don Gus Hotel selfie.
I woke the following day with growing excitement, and unable to wait for daybreak I loaded my bike impatiently, waiting for the restaurant to open for a much-needed cup of joe. You will often find that opening and closing times in Baja are more of a suggestion than a hard rule. A half-hour later, I was in my room, firing up my rocket pocket stove and making do with a Starbucks instant coffee and some leftover tortillas. Bike ready and stomach full, I headed to the gas station to fill up Red, only to find I had caused a stir and was noticed by a few locals who wanted to meet the female American solo rider. A few of the younger ones asked what seemed like endless questions, wanting to know where I had been and where I was going. This completed, I was on the road heading to the part of Baja I had been waiting for, Mulege and the famous Bahia Conception.
The road out of town was uneventful, an endlessly flat straight that challenged me to stay awake and focused. About an hour later, I passed the midsize town of Villa Alberto with plenty of gas, shopping, and lodging. I stopped long enough for gas and was back on the road. My interest in the highway picked up as I neared San Ignacio. A few kilometers before San Ignacio there was another military stop, which was uneventful other than the guard looking at me, my bike, and a long look down the road with was becoming the norm question and answer: Solo? Si Solo! With an astonished look, he waved me on, wishing me a safe ride. My next stop was a visit to the Baja 1000 popular pit stop, Rice and Beans, a restaurant and hotel just off the highway with good food and cold beer. I left satisfied and headed to the main square of San Ignacio.
Inside the Rice and Beans Restaurant in San Ignacio.
The town of San Ignacio is a true desert oasis with more palm trees than you could count and a river running through the town. San Ignacio seems caught in a time warp as elderly men sit in the shade of the massive trees that frame the small-town square, reading and playing cards as they eye me parking my bike. Curious about this gem, I found just enough cell coverage to look up her history. San Ignacio was founded in 1706 by the Cochimi tribe. In 1728, missionary Juan Bautista de Luyando discovered San Ignacio and committed to building Misión San Ignacio Kadakaamán. The building is made of volcanic rock from the nearby mountains. Her mission sits quietly, waiting for the next visitor, and I was lucky to find her open and welcoming.
The San Ignacio Mission.San Ignacio’s town square.A restaurant in San Ignacio.
I reluctantly got back on my bike, heading back to the highway with a promise that I would return to San Ignacio for further exploration and to enjoy her peaceful river and nearby lagoon. With one more top off of gas, I headed down the road finding the excitement of endless twisties and, on the horizon to my left, the peaks of Tres Virgenes. One last climb took me to another peak, with soon a sweeping view of the Sea of Cortez. Massive winds kept me alert. The heat was near overwhelming, and the wind only accelerated my dehydration. I was physically spent with still another hour to my destination. Pulling into Santa Rosalia, I sadly passed her mission for another time. I stopped just long enough to douse myself with water at the gas station, drink as much water as possible, and get back on the road.
Soon I was riding through the arches that welcome you to the proper start of the town of Mulege. My destination was Historico Las Casitas. After several attempts to find the hotel cursing my Google Maps, I finally arrived. I walked in, took off my riding gear, and as if they were waiting for me to arrive, a young man said not a single word; instead, he handed me a glass of lemonade, a drink from heaven made with fresh limes, lemon, and cane sugar. I emptied my glass in two long swings. Gratefully finding an ounce of composure, I asked about a room for the night. I soon settled into my volcano rock room with mosquito netting; it took me no time to pass out with cold air soothing my heat-exhausted body.
The Hotel Las Casitas courtyard.My room in the Las Casitas.
Waking in the late afternoon, I discovered the L-shaped courtyard covered in vines and trees, allowing for continual shade against the heat of the June sun. My bike was safely parked in the courtyard; I made my way to the bar to the young man who had saved me with his magical lemon concoction and ordered another (with tequila this time). Sufficiently recovered, I headed out to discover the town and look for another perfect taco. Mulege, another mission town founded in the early 1700s and known for the beauty of the river that runs her length ending at the Sea of Cortez, her proud mission sets up on a hill overlooking the palm trees and river. Sadly not open, I wandered around the grounds taking in the softness of the sunset overlooking the river. I headed back to the town square, and with a food stand next to the market, I had a satisfying plate of carne asada tacos with the best beans I’ve had in Baja. Heading back to the hotel, I found the courtyard packed with locals and visitors enjoying the evening coolness. I was lucky to be greeted by the owner, I learned more about the hotel’s history, and I met a friend of his who could take me horseback riding the following morning. With plans set for the next day I gratefully slipped between the crisp white sheets, pulled my mosquito netting around me, and drifted off to sleep dreaming of the adventures ahead.
I know many people on this page camp and ride, but some have yet to dive into mixing these two great passions. My objective in this article is to help you bridge riding and camping, alleviate any concerns on this topic, and build a foundation of knowledge for those new to motorcycle camping. In doing so you will discover a deeper level of motorcycling that many riders experience.
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Start with Less
With all the social media posts of riders from around the world sharing their epic adventures and providing reviews of the gear they use can cause anxiety. Intimidation from the expense and amount of equipment people use for moto camping can become overwhelming when starting this hobby. I’m not saying any of these riders are wrong in the gear (or the amount) they use, but my philosophy while motorcycle camping is less gear is much more efficient and cheaper. My first time moto camping I had nothing other than a one-person Kelty tent (which I still use), a sleeping bag, and a small personal hygiene kit. I planned to give moto camping a shot and figured I could survive one night out on Washington’s Olympic peninsula even if I was a bit uncomfortable.
I wasn’t uncomfortable at all. In fact, other than adding a 6-pack of beer and a crushed Subway sandwich my gear didn’t grow or change for the next 8 more years (even after “maturing” from a Ducati Monster M1100 to a BMW GS1200). Would I have been more comfortable with a sleeping pad, cooking set up, and maybe even a chair? Yes, but that came years later after learning from others (I am a bit set in my ways even if they force me to be uncomfortable). Starting from such a minimalist perspective and adding gear slowly allowed me to tailor my equipment perfectly. You will find everyone has a “better” way of doing things; you might want to learn what works best for you and expand slowly.
Start in a Familiar Location
Roaring through the dense rainforest of the Olympic Peninsula on my Ducati Monster I was excited to be camping with my motorcycle for the first time. In hindsight this choice was probably a further and more isolated location than I should have started with, but it worked for the most part. I had ridden the road several times, I was comfortable with the distance, and I was aware of the ever-changing weather conditions. Being new to this I didn’t pack rain gear and of course it rained heavily that night (I was forced into my tent by the weather by 7:00 p.m.). You must pack raingear if you want to ensure it never rains on your moto camping trip. But even with the weather not cooperating it was a fun first night and it was enough to get me hooked on the lifestyle.
Looking back, a more comfortable way to experience my first moto camping adventure would have been a more controlled environment. Even for those well-seasoned campers, testing new gear in your home or backyard to learn how to set up, adjust, and break down the equipment makes for a less stressful time in a real-world environment. Purchasing lots of expensive gear, not testing it, and going on a multi-state tour can be a painful way to learn the gear isn’t right for you or the climate. Another way to learn your equipment and build experience is at a state park close to your home or a KOA. Even if you have to retreat to the KOA store or end up back inside your house, don’t be discouraged. That’s what this step is for. Take notes on what worked and what didn’t, and build off that until you are comfortable with the next step, which can be dispersed camping or a longer distance ride. It is better to learn in this semi-controlled environment than to have a horrific night with improper gear in poor weather and become completely deterred from ever moto camping again.
Learn From Experience
Having completed a successful test runs with your gear it is now time to begin learning how to increase your confidence in harsher and more remote environments. This point in your experience level is also the perfect time to make gear adjustments based on your notes. With a few nights camping under your belt you can seek advice and learn from others, including their set up tricks and in what type of climate they moto camp. In doing so you will fine tune your camping outfit so that it is perfect for you, your motorcycle, and the climate.
During this phase it is important to remain open minded. Everyone has a method that works best for them. For some it is a half shelter at a roadside pullout, for others it can be as elaborate as a 6-man tent with copious gear that requires 2 hours to pack. Normally when I travel and moto camp it isn’t for just one night. I’m on the road for two to three months at a time with Airbnbs or hotels as resting points or for working. Even though I am comfortable with my moto camping equipment it’s always fun to chat up other motorcyclists. In most cases, even if their set up is completely different there is usually one or two takeaways I learn from conversing with them.
Conclusions
Moto camping is an easy and inexpensive way to escape the rat race with less effort than many would think. These experiences and the people I meet along the journey are some of the most best I have had. Being so removed from everything as you sit relaxing in the glow of a warm campfire reflecting off your moto is a fulfilling feeling that few venture to achieve.
A couple of months ago Joe Gresh wrote a blog seeking new writers. We picked up Mike Huber, who we already knew from a couple of guest blogs, we have another guy who may come on board (more about that when it’s confirmed), and most recently, Bobbie Surber agreed to join the ExNotes team.
Bobbie’s Tiger. Blue is the fastest color on a Triumph.
Bobbie is the real deal. She raised four daughters, she’s a construction manager, she’s a rider, and she’s a writer. I know Bobbie rode a G 310 GS BMW all over Baja, she rides a blue Triumph Tiger these days (I used to ride a blue Triumph Tiger, so I know she has good judgement), and she did the Vietnam adventure ride with Mike Huber (a ride you read about on these pages).
Bobbie on her BMW GS in Monument Valley.
Bobbie is an adventurer and she writes well. She will be bringing stories to us on all the above and more, and to start, Bobbie is writing a series on hiking the famed Camino de Santiago across Spain, Portugal, and France. The first installment of this European adventure is going in the queue in the next few days, and I think you will enjoy it. I sure did.
Stay tuned; as always, there are more good stories coming your way.
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When traveling I keep a loose schedule. I talk to people along my journey and gain insight on what is best to see, and just as importantly, what is best to avoid. In 2017 while sitting outside Starbucks somewhere in Washington state a couple asked where I was headed (I ride a GS1200; frequenting Starbucks is an ownership obligation). I didn’t have much of a destination in mind and the couple asked if I had my passport, which I did. They recommended visiting Toad Rock Campground in British Columbia. Just like that, Toad Rock Campground became my weekend destination.
I entered Canada through Idaho. It always seems once crossing the border everything just becomes more magnificent. Trees are larger, there is more wildlife, the mountains are higher, the water is bluer, you get the point. I crossed the Canadian border at Rykerts, B.C. This was a bit out of the way but it was what the couple had recommended. The main reason (besides 3A being a phenomenal road) was that I would take the World’s Longest Free Ferry across Kootenay Lake to Balfour. Once I disembarked the ferry in Balfour it was just a short hop to Toad Rock. It turns out taking the longer route was absolutely the right call.
Arriving at Toad Rock, I dismounted from the GS and went to check in. The lady running the camp stated it was full, but I could find a patch of grass in the back and set up camp. I signed in and paid (I want to say $10 CDN but don’t fully remember). She then looked at me, pointed and said, “If you’re an asshole I will throw your ass OUT!” To which I swiftly replied “Yes, Ma’am.” Later I found out she even makes motorcycle clubs remove their vests and colors to avoid any friction within the camp. This was all fine with me.
I rode to the back forty to find my piece of lawn, which was located well outside the wooded main area. The camp looked really cool with lights hung all through it to include a central gazebo with a stage, bar, and a very large refrigerator which was firmly held closed by a bungy cord. I asked someone what the deal was with this cord. They replied that there was a large pig that wandered the campground to scare the bears away and if you don’t bungy the refrigerator, the pig will open the door and drink all your beer. Interesting indeed.
My camp was set up by 13:00 and I discovered a local loop for an afternoon blast around southern B.C. The loop entailed riding Route.31 around to Route 6. From Route 6 I dropped down into Nelson, B.C. Nelson would make a great stopping point for a late lunch and has a quaint downtown area to walk around and stretch. The roads were in great shape and outside the mountain views being minimized from several wildfires it was a perfect June day to enjoy this part of the province. What made the day even better was stopping twice to jump into an ice-cold mountain stream that hugged the road to cool off. The streams were cold and refreshing, especially after riding in full gear during the peak of the day.
Upon leaving the streams my entire body would be tingling (like I just ate a piece of peppermint gum) from the extreme change in temperature it had just experienced. Having been fully refreshed from my swims it was time to eat. My stomach was growling for a burger just as I entered the town of Nelson. While eating a giant bacon burger and enjoying a cold Kokanee beer I suddenly heard a loud chopping through the air. I recognized that sound from years before. It was a Chinook helicopter coming to refill its water bucket in the lake to continue fighting the wildfires. Once that show was over and my burger was finished it was time to head back to Toad Rock and see what was going on at camp for entertainment. I would not be disappointed.
As I arrived at camp around 17:00 the pavilion in the middle was just getting warmed up and people were piling in serving drinks from the BYOB bar, retrieving beers from the refrigerator (and remembering to secure the beers from the thirsty pig), and talking with others. It wasn’t long before riders were randomly grabbing instruments to play music. Everyone was welcoming as they took turns sharing their motorcycle adventure stories.
At this point I realized we all were in the middle of a great motorcycle story just living in the present here. The festivities continued late into the night. As the night wore on and people slowly began to drift off to their campsites, I decided it was time to return to my tent as well. The only problem was I couldn’t find my campsite. I knew it was in the lawn section but that seemed impossible to find as I went by the same tents a few times as I wearily followed the colored lights strung throughout the trees. I began to worry that I’d have to locate the owner to ground guide me back to my campsite. Does meandering the campground hopelessly lost constitute being an asshole? It was at this moment I saw a familiar landmark that marked my tent location and I haphazardly slid into my home for the evening. This was a day that fully encompassed what being a motorcyclist is all about: Living in the present, embracing each moment, and bonding with fellow riders.
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