Finding myself in Arizona in the winter months has become my norm. Arizona provides one of the better climates for riding and camping, and I can camp there without waking up next to a frozen Gatorade bottle in my tent (which happens way too often to me).
Over the past three years wintering here I had missed one of the more moving Veterans Day memorials, the Anthem Veterans Memorial in Anthem, Arizona. This fascinating tribute to our country’s Soldiers, Airmen, Marines, Sailors, and Coast Guard (no Space Force yet) is located just two minutes off Interstate 17.
I visited the Veterans Memorial on several occasions while stopping at the Starbucks in Anthem (insert BMW GS joke here) before riding to work in Phoenix or Tucson. What makes the Anthem Veterans Memorial so special is that on November 11th at 11:11, the sun aligns with the Memorial and shines directly through its five pillars (each pillar represents a branch of the military). That lights the Great Seal of the United States of America. The pillar heights correspond with the number of people in each branch (Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, and Coast Guard).
This year when I rode my GS to Phoenix for routine maintenance, I saw the sign on I-17 for the Memorial. I looked down and it was 11:08. I had a chance to make it! Pulling in my clutch and clicking down two gears brought me to this new destination. It was exhilarating. I was literally racing the sun to be where I needed to be at 11:11.
I didn’t make it in time. Only five minutes or so had passed, but the eclipse of the Great Seal was not in totality anymore. That is how accurate this modern-day sun dial is. The radiant glow from it was still vibrant and even though it wasn’t in full on totality it was still very impressive.
Many people surrounded the Memorial this day; more than a few rode motorcycles here as a Veterans Day Pilgrimage. It is always a great day whenever I chat with Veterans, especially at such an impressive monument on Veterans Day.
Having been so close to seeing this Memorial at its peak has placed it on my 2023 list. I will join other Veterans riding to the Memorial and the festivities on this special day, and Starbucks will be part of the experience to meet my BMW GS ownership obligations.
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With Mai Chau being in our rear view mirrors, we just had one challenge left to overcome as riders in Vietnam: The chaotic traffic in the massive capital city of Hanoi. This was something we were both mentally prepared for and we had watched videos to somewhat provide us an idea on what to expect, but it would take more than me honking my little pink horn to navigate through this massive Asian city. As we rolled down the CT08 Highway into Hanoi the road didn’t seem too hectic, although I bounced off a car once or twice due to the limited real estate on the road.
Exiting the highway and entering surface streets the traffic increased exponentially, and we were separated several times. This was exactly why we had brought the Sena headsets, whereas in America we would never have even thought of using these devices. The road was about four American lanes wide, but it was easily fitting 8 to 12 vehicles on average. The vehicles ranged from Terminators, to cars, to little motos like ours, and everyone was cutting in and out constantly.
Another valuable driving lesson we learned was don’t drive defensively, but instead drive with purpose and intent. In doing so you will fit into the chaos and become part of the herd. Any second guessing yourself, braking, or quick acceleration will cause a ripple effect. That action will initiate others to stutter step and will most likely result in an accident; this was something we would rather avoid. Having mounts for our phones was another tip that proved invaluable. We could simply set our directions into it and place the phone in airplane mode to preserve the battery. Google Maps would remain on and guide us through these crowded streets filled with threats and obstacles.
Even with the GPS reliably guiding us through the madness we were rerouted several times due to the amount of traffic, getting split up, or having to focus on the many distractions that came in every form from every angle. Negotiating the rotaries was like entering a swarm of bees and trying to fit into our own little pocket without disrupting thousands of others that were searching for the same sanctuary in the lunacy. Upon arriving safely at our rental moto return point, we dismounted from our reliable steeds. They had been our life preservers over the past three weeks and 1,000+ miles through the concrete and plant jungles of this magnificent country.
Reflections
This journey through Vietnam, as with most journeys, was challenging mentally, physically, and especially emotionally. Vietnam reassured our feelings that the division between cultures and former enemies can be cured. Time provides a buffer between the anger and hatred and former times. One given about traveling is at times it can appear as though you go backward or forward in time. At that moment when Bobbie held the lady’s head and helped her in her final moments that lesson took hold in me. Helping a North Vietnamese would have been considered treason 70 years ago, but now it was not only the right thing to do but it a welcome gesture. Hours after the accident and thinking through it gave me hope that the political division in our country will be repaired. We are one people and our minor differences are indeed that: Minor. We sometimes tend to focus on the differences when we should be focused on the similarities.
Take the Iwo Jima photo above. We were riding by and a lady waved us down. They were planting a tree and were stuck, so I ran over without even taking off my helmet as it started to fall. We fixed it. A tree grows in Vietnam, and we helped.
I hope all of you reading this series enjoyed the read and were able to take something positive away from our experiences in Vietnam. I appreciate your support and you reading my writing. Thank you and be safe.
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Exposure is one of the greatest thrills when traveling by motorcycle. You feel every drop of rain and every cold or warm front you move through, experiencing each second by second. There is no better way to experience the present, except for maybe exiting an aircraft in flight. Being a motorcyclist and embracing that exposure allows the most beautiful moments. During these moments I sometimes close my eyes for an instant to ensure my mind has a vivid snapshot that can be stored deep within and recalled for the rest of my life. With this beauty at times there comes a price, though, and at times that price can be death.
We were almost wrapping up our journey, having decided not to ride to the Vietnamese North Pole due to time constraints caused by our meandering travels. Instead, I chose local mountain roads I found while planning our trip. This made for relaxed riding and and easy return to our Home Stay in Mai Chau. The roads were incredible, some just dirt half covered by avalanches that barely allowed scooting the little 150cc motorcycles through. Every so often we would enter a village where pigs and water buffalo blocked the roads as children came out to honk the horn prominently taped to my handlebars.
After returning to the main road, just a few mountain passes away from Mai Chau, we decided to break for lunch. There were older locals drinking what looked like a Vietnamese vodka. Being ever curious about local drinks I attempted to order a bottle (or two) to go. This took more than a few minutes. Vietnam has so many dialects that many revert to English as the communication platform, but not here. It took about five minutes and included several charades imitating the drunken locals we had just seen to obtain the right beverage. No question about it: My performance would be the talk of that local watering hole for some time.
As I loaded the vodka bottles carefully into the plastic side panniers, we synced up the headsets and fired up the motos. The narrow two-lane highway was stunning. There were beautiful mountain views and sheer cliffs to our right where we could overlook the vistas and still see lingering fog far below us in a mystical valley. Traffic was light that day, but we were alert for Terminators (oncoming trucks barreling around blind corners) and we were still cautious.
Suddenly, a female with a pink Hello Kitty plastic helmet zinged by me on her scooter. I waved to her as we do to all riders and glanced again to look at the mountain views. I took a deep breath as I knew this would be one of those snapshot moments I wanted to remember forever. I didn’t realize how right I was. In the very next moment, a Terminator was barreling directly at me in my lane, and I had no escape with the cliff on my right. Before I could react to anything I heard plastic crunching and witnessed a body fly into the air 50 meters in front of me. The entire world stopped for a moment as the crescendo of a full orchestra built and screamed in my head. Then it suddenly stopped and the silence became the quiet sound of a gentle wind.
“Rider down!!” I screamed into the headset to Bobbie. I parked the bike and ran over. The female rider was still breathing, but there was nothing that could be done. With traffic stopped I knew that on these mountain roads this scene would just get worse. I attempted to tell the driver to call 911 knowing that most of these countries don’t have emergency services, but also knowing he wouldn’t need to read my charades to know what action to take. I flipped my moto around and drove up a quarter mile to meet Bobbie, and I explained that I would pull road guard detail and for her to go to the accident scene.
Road guard duty was not an easy task on that foggy mountain highway in Vietnam. I remembered I had downloaded the Google Translator after being pulled over and quickly looked up “Stop bad accident ahead,” but even with using Google Translator the trucks continued to ignore me to the point they were jeopardizing Bobbie and others at the scene. They continued to speed toward the horrific situation ahead. Some vehicles were even going off the road to the left to avoid the accident or the cliffs after ignoring my warnings.
Still wearing my helmet and headset I shouted several times to Bobbie that there was an incoming vehicle but to no avail. She was doing what she could to assist the downed female rider, and she didn’t have her helmet on. With no other option I physically walked into the middle of the road using myself as a barrier to force each vehicle to stop (I hoped). I wanted them to realize the accident they were about to encounter. This action ultimately worked and the threat of new vehicles incoming to the accident site stopped.
Sometime between 45 minutes and a lifetime later authorities arrived on the scene, but only in the form of a traffic officer on the back of a civilian moped. At this juncture it was time for us to depart. There was nothing else we could do, the female rider had died, and it was time for us to leave. We slowly continued our ride down the pass and neither of us spoke for the remainder of the ride other than my continued warnings on the lowering mountain switchbacks into the fog of Mai Chau Valley. After 45 minutes of riding an ambulance passed us heading to the accident. Still not saying a word, we knew there was no rush for the ambulance at this point.
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We awoke in Khe Sanh and felt well rested, semi warmed up, and ready to ride the 270 kilometers to Phong Nha. Phong Nha is home to an elaborate cave system we planned to spend a few days exploring. As we rode it wasn’t long before the concrete jungle of Khe Sanh morphed into jungle. The road we chose was a narrow two way street for most the ride with no traffic. In fact, on one stretch we didn’t see another car for 100 kilometers. There was nothing but jungle encroaching onto the roads and waterfalls splattering off the pavement, creating little rainbows. As we whizzed past the rainbows their light patterns would change to create a magical view into the dense lush jungle that surrounded us. Although we never saw anyone along this section our rule of having an exit path never stopped in the rare event a Terminator would come barreling at us around a blind corner. Other than being alert for that possible occurrence this stretch of the Hoh Chi Minh Trail was a rider’s dream. It was so isolated and quiet outside the sounds of our motorbikes humming but even that sound was overtaken by the hungry jungle which ate everything it could, including sounds.
The mountain roads provided beautiful switchbacks. We saw patchy rain clouds below us eerily floating by before they were consumed by the jungle. This part of the Trail is so remote we filled up water bottles with gas to ensure our bikes wouldn’t go thirsty since there were no gas stations. Continuing up and down through mountain passes until the sunlight faded, we finally dropped into a beautiful green valley. Water buffalo wandered into our paths as the roads straightened and the jungles were replaced with open rice fields and farmers.
After a short bit we saw beautiful mountains so steep and high they were giant green anthills surrounding us. As we stopped to check and confirm our directions to our Home Stay, we heard Buddhist chanting echoing in the mountains. The chanting reverberated off the mountains and it was impossible to tell where it came from. It fully engulfed us to the point it was vibrating through our motorcycles and even our own bodies. It was incredible.
The beauty of Phong Nha was beyond description so there was really no option but to extend our stay there by a day just to have an opportunity to tour the Buddhist temple during their Moon ceremony. We explored and hiked many caves, including Paradise Cave (one of the largest in the world). The extra day provided a much-needed break from riding. Even 150 miles made for quite a day when you factor in researching the best routes, watching for Terminators, and taking in the culture and sights.
After three days in this magical location, it was time to load the motos and roar (as much as our little 150cc motorcycles could roar) in our northerly direction. With no defined stopping point on this day it was exciting to just see where the day would take us. This is never a bad way to travel and rarely fails to provide excitement. This case was no different as we stumbled on a beautiful eco lodge where we toured island tea fields by boat. At this lodge there were German riders going in the opposite direction. This started a great conversation on where to stay for us going north, and for them going south. They showed a video of a rickety old bridge on which you could see the bamboo flipping up in all directions from the weight of the motorcycle. This bridge would be added to our route north. It also worked as it took us through a more isolated area including Pu Luong National Forest, which had beautiful jungle mountain switchbacks. As a much smaller road, it would have fewer Terminators.
We arrived at the bridge late in the day and zipped across it several times. We laughed as we heard the boards clacking one by one when we crossed. It sounds silly but this may have been our favorite part of the entire adventure to this point. The German riders gave us not only great advice on the bridge, they also recommended a Home Stay next to the nature preserve. It had great food and all you can drink rice wine included. The beers were a bit bland but the rice wine was just the change I needed to unwind, loosen up to chat (maybe too much) with the other guests, and enjoy the evening in a hammock after a fabulous Vietnamese dinner. This wonderful hidden gem of the world led us to extend our stay longer to explore the national forest and its lush waterfalls and our new friends.
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By Day 3 we were fully acclimated to the roads, food, and culture and it was now time to start taking on more challenging rides. The next day entailed leaving Hoi An to continue north to Hue for a couple days. Along the way we detoured to experience riding across the Hai Van Pass. According to locals this was one of the best motorcycle roads in the country if not all of Asia.
As we entered the Pass there was a police road stop and I was waved over instantly. “Ahhh, I’ve got this” I thought, thinking I would just play the dumb tourist and skate out of any ticket. Well…it half worked. As soon as I began performing my best “sad tourist, I don’t speak Vietnamese” act the officer pulled out his phone with Google Translator. “Shit,” I thought, this isn’t going to turn out too great. Within a couple minutes another officer was called over. “Dammit!” I now thought, this definitely isn’t how it is supposed to go down. It turns out I simply meandered into a lane that wasn’t designated for motos. The other reason was that the officers wanted to honk the pink horn attached to my moto and take some photos with me. That was pretty cool.
Once our introductions to the local authorities were wrapped up we continued to the base of the Hai Van Pass. By this time, we felt very comfortable in our abilities riding in Vietnam. It was just like riding a local road in the US: Leaning, feeling, and embracing each moment while blasting (blasting for a 150cc bike, by the way) into the corners while traversing the mountain passes. As soon as we gained our confidence in riding in this country, we received a big wake up call. This was in the form of trucks passing recklessly on blind corners. I labeled these trucks “Terminators” based on my experience driving Humvees near the DMZ in Korea. It didn’t take long before I took the lead and would shout over our Sena headsets to forewarn what was around the next turn: “Clear,” or in many cases “Get to the side of the road, NOW!”
After completing the Hoi An Pass, we hit a new alertness level. A rule of thumb became that around every corner expect a Terminator to be coming at you head on and always have a sure path of egress when (not if) they did. This stayed with us as our Hondas continued winding north to the Hoh Chi Minh Trail.
These cautionary actions didn’t mean we weren’t having fun. As we entered the city of Hue, I noticed the bike was riding quite rough as if the shock was just gone. It turns out that my showing off for the locals in traffic by performing wheelies and endos had caused the shock to go a bit sooner than anticipated and fluid was leaking out. It was time to find a repair shop as this wasn’t something that would be tolerable for another 900+ miles. Fortunately, Hue is a large city and while working with our rental company, Tigit, they quickly referred us to a local mechanic named Mr. Kim. As I explained the situation to him (I left out the wheelie part) I could hear all the mechanics honking the pink horn on my bike in the back. One thing about Vietnam: They get things done, and fast. Within two hours Mr. Kim had rebuilt the shock and “bike all fixed, Mr. Hooba, no more bouncy bouncy.” Upon arrival to pick up the bike I continued to hear the honking of my horn in the back of the shop prior to them rolling it out. The shock was repaired, and we could continue the ride with a few less wheelies along the way.
With another obstacle (self-induced) behind us we continued to Khe Sanh. Khe Sanh looks as though it hasn’t changed one bit since the war. Gray concrete buildings line the streets, the smell of smoke from trash burning hung in the air, there were very few shops, and there were even fewer people along the main street through the center of town. To add to this gloomy scenario, it was a dark cloudy day, and we were freezing from the ride. The hotel we stayed in even had a chill that refused to leave and stayed with us all evening. I began thinking about the soldiers that fought here 50 years ago and what their opinion of this town was, both then and now. Our night was short and after eating a warm bowl of pho we returned to the hotel. We planned a longer ride the next day, and we wanted to be fully rested as we wandered deeper into this country of never-ending adventure.
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It was December 2018, and we were in Da Nang, Vietnam. Our steeds for this trip consisted of two Honda Winner 150cc motorcycles and we were ready to begin our adventure. My moto had been fully decked out in a colorful light with bells, horns, and streamers. With our route defined as northernly it was time to fire off this trip. We did this by starting in the wrong direction (south), and the reason for that was Hoi An was close to Da Nang . There was a full moon festival happening there. This was something not to be missed.
Arriving in the bustling town of Hoi An late in the day we noticed that the roads had been closed in a perimeter around our Home Stay (Vietnamese version of Airbnb) due to the Full Moon Festival. The Home Stay was about a quarter mile away from the closest point we could get to. Leaving the bikes outside this perimeter wasn’t an option, nor was walking a quarter mile through the crowds with all our gear. Having lived in Boston for 16 years and with the mindset of a paratrooper, I shouted over the headset loud enough for Bobbie to hear me over the crowds growing for the festival: “Follow me! We’ll make this work.”
I clicked the bike into first geat and drove across the bridge to our Home Stay, on the sidewalk, and on the wrong side of the road while honking my favorite pink horn to alert those in our path that we were coming through. The smile on my face was one that I’ll never forget. This country was one of less rules and more of making it happen. I loved it! We made it to our Home Stay in time to unpack, catch our breath, and have a well-earned cold Saigon beer before heading out to find some chow.
Once properly hydrated from the Saigon beers, we walked the crowded streets of Hoi An as the glowing red sun began to set. We gazed over the beautiful Hoi An River. The river was filled with thousands of lanterns on tiny paper boats with candles paying respects to ancestors. This was a sight to behold. It was beautiful in every way. As the night wore on, our grumbling stomachs reminded us it was time to experiment with the Vietnamese cuisine.
Street vendors lined the alleys. All had interesting dishes ranging from octopus, to frogs that looked like Mr. Olympias (due to their muscles under the vendors’ lights), to the quail that were runner up to the frogs in the bodybuilding contests. Fried octopus seemed like the best choice. We ordered and sat at tables the same size used in preschool, with bright colors and flimsy plastic chair legs. The food was DELICIOUS and just what we needed after a successful first day of riding in this wonderful country.
Hoi An was an easy city to love, so it wasn’t a hard decision to extend our stay. One day entailed a full day of riding to a UNESCO Heritage World Site called My Son Temple. This is a collection of Hindu temples hidden in the mountains 25 miles west of Hoi An. The site was incredible, with temples half overrun by the jungle, yet still in pristine condition even though some of them are 600 years old. This location is deep in the jungle and as soon as we dismounted from our bikes we could feel the humidity. We spent much of the day exploring the ruins, with the overwhelming jungle darkness surrounding us. The ruins were a mystical place that we were fortunate to have stumbled upon.
On our return ride it was time to make food choices again. Choosing to stop at the first crowded place made sense. We soon discovered an establishment and radioed to each other that this looked acceptable. Instantly, all eyes were upon us as we sat down in a three-walled, white-paint-chipped open room. One thing we found in Vietnam wat that when you order food, you don’t always get what you asked for. Often you get what they have, even though they will nod their head to your request while saying “ya ya ya.” In this restaurant we kept it simple and ordered pho.
While waiting for our food we slowly drank a Hanoi beer that was warm (but much needed). We tried to act normal as the locals pointed at us and chuckled. Finally, our food arrived but instead of our requested pho, we received what appeared to be cold water buffalo meat wrapped in a type of Vietnamese lettuce, a dipping sauce of some sort, and a consommé. Eating with finesse isn’t my strong suit, and that became blatantly obvious. I was having issues making a wrap without having the meat spill out of the lettuce.
As all the patrons continued to stare at us an older lady came over to assist me in the proper way to prepare this dish, since I was clearly incapable of doing so myself. She began wrapping it tightly with her hands that were blackened with dirt from working in the rice fields earlier and successfully tightly rolled it for me to eat. While she was performing this task other patrons in the restaurant were walking around me to go on the other side of the wall from which I was sitting to use the “facilities.” With the sound of urine hitting the other side of the wall it was now time to finally eat my lunch. I bit into the wrap and noticed the meat was cold and I instantly thought it was raw and I’d get sick, but I still had to eat it to save face in front of everyone as they watched me chew each bite and swallow it. The many onlookers gazed upon me as I finished about 60% of the meal while washing it down religiously with Hanoi beer, thinking the alcohol might save me from becoming ill. For the next 12 hours I was in full on hypochondriac mode. I had about six false alarms during this time when I would bolt to the bathroom thinking I was about to have an accident. In hindsight this is funny, but at the time the threat of possibly having the runs while riding through Vietnam didn’t seem too humorous to me.
Returning to the Home Stay in Hoi An provided me with a bit of relief from my hypochondria and a chance to unwind. We had ventured out while learning more about the culture, the food, and the people. It was now time to map our next day’s ride, where we would correct our direction and return to moving north towards epic roads. With our gear fully organized and the bikes prepped, we called it an early night so we would be fresh for the next day.
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As soon as we landed in Da Nang and got our bearings (as best we could with the jet lag, language barrier, and me) the first step was to pick up the motorcycles from Tigit, the motorcycle rental company. My girlfriend Bobbie and I had reserved two Honda Winner 150cc motorcycles a month prior. I had some reservations about the smaller displacement, but the benefit of these little workhorse bikes was that the parts were so plentiful in the country and they were so easy to work on that if/when we did break down it wouldn’t stall the trip for more than a day or two. This was an advantage compared to other models that you’d have to order parts and wait 3 or 4 days for even little maintenance issues. In hindsight this was a wise decision as we really beat the hell out of the bikes.
The rental process with Tigit was painless and with the owner giving us his Whatsapp contact number in event of breakdowns or other issues we instantly felt comfortable in this foreign land. To further ensure our safety we had purchased Sena 10C EVO headsets so we could stay in close contact due to the ever-changing road and traffic conditions. This purchase proved invaluable over the next three weeks and quite honestly saved our lives more than once. Knowing the road conditions would be challenging, we also opted to bring all our protective gear from home. Once we were all geared up and after a quick comm check with the Senas it was time to ride!
The first destination would be a local beach in Da Nang. The wind and sun were just what was needed to flush out the jet lag and wooziness from our bodies.
In being true to myself I had to decorate the bike. I had just recovered from a hip replacement in which I had a walker for a few weeks and decked it out with a bicycle bell, pink horn, pink streamers, and a pink basket. The nurses loved it and old ladies in their walkers would give me dirty looks as I went about my errands on it (they were clearly jealous). I had reasons for these decorations, more than just an opportunity to be obnoxious. The bell was to signal I wanted pain meds, and the horn was for a cold beer. The streamers….well, they just seemed to tie the entire walker together. I brought them all to Vietnam to ensure my moto was properly suited to me. It provided endless entertainment for me and proved to be rather annoying to everyone else. Whenever I parked the moto, it just took a moment before children, police, or pretty much any local would be ringing the bell or honking the horn. On more than one occasion, our hosts had us park the bikes inside their houses just so they could get a reprieve from the sounds of these add-ons, which benefitted us from a physical security standpoint.
At the start of this adventure, I felt a strange uneasiness. This came from notions placed in my head from others telling me about their experience in the Vietnam War. Feelings of guilt were constantly weighing on my mind as I met the locals and they asked where I was from. I was always extra respectful and humble when I said I was from the United States. Having travelled much of the world this is always how I present myself, but in Vietnam I did so even more. After a day or two I began to open up with several Vietnamese people about how I was feeling (I am a pretty open guy anyway so wanted to get this feeling resolved). They all assured me that the people of Vietnam have long forgotten about the war and there would be absolutely no animosity over that from anyone. It didn’t take long for me to put those feelings in the rear view mirror. I began to fully embrace the beautiful people and their culture as I should have from the start. As we continued to ride through the country this became even more apparent with every stop as the female locals grabbed Bobbie and brought her into their kitchen to pick out our meal, and the men invited me to sit on the stairs with them and smoke tobacco in bamboo pipes. Sometimes it just takes a day or two to get comfortable with your surroundings. Vietnam was no different.
I love it when a plan comes together, or doesn’t. This is an especially great feeling when the plan is to not have a plan, other than a direction to travel in. For us, this direction was north. The goal was to hit the Vietnam North Pole, a remote area at the northern tip of Vietnam that bordered with China. We had seen and read a lot about the ride and roads up there and it seemed one of the most epic adventures a motorcyclist could have. During this journey we wanted a leisurely pace with no pressure to travel if we didn’t feel like moving due to being tired or falling in love with a specific region. Why rush this wonderful experience without savoring each mile to its maximum? Our only constraint was to make our flight in Hanoi in three weeks, and this was plenty of time to cover 1,500 miles of the infamous Ho Chi Minh Trail if we chose to.
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The turnaround point for our New Mexico trip was the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta. We had talked about it for years, and it combined nicely with our stops in Tucson and Alamogordo (and the visit to Tinfiny Ranch). I shot all the photos in this blog with my iPhone. I had the big Nikon D810 and its boat anchor 24-120 lens with me, but my leg was acting up (an old motorcycle accident injury) and I couldn’t lug that thing around any longer on this trip. I might have shot better photos with the Nikon, or I might not have shot any at all if I didn’t have my cell phone. Adapt, improvise, overcome.
The deal on our visit to the Balloon Fiesta was a tour group. It’s really the only practical way to get in to see the balloons. Here’s the deal: Albuquerque’s population is 550,000 people (it’s the biggest city in New Mexico). The Balloon Fiesta, however, draws a cool one million visitors. Just getting to the field where the balloons lift off would take an hour or more due to the crush, and if you did that, you’d have to park far away to find a parking spot. If you’re part of a tour group, however, you ride on the tour group’s buses from your hotel to the balloon field, and they take you right up to the gate. The City of Albuquerque has done this event for years and they have it dialed. They designate special bus lanes during Balloon Fiesta week. Logistically, it’s a much better approach.
What the City can’t control is the weather, and hot air balloons are sensitive to the weather. If there are electrical storms, low visibility, rain, or high winds, the balloon’s won’t lift off. And there were plenty of all these conditions that week. Our tour grip told us we’d be making three trips to the balloon field, but there were no guarantees we’d get to see the balloons lift off during any of our visits. Two of our visits were early morning affairs (we arrived at the field before sunup), and another one was in the late afternoon.
The Balloon Fiesta field periphery is lined with vendors.
During our first early morning arrival, it was cold and too windy for the balloons to lift off. The balloon fiesta had a backup plan, though, and in the distant skie we observed a light display. At first I thought there was a large board with lights, but then the display lifted into the pre-dawn sky. I learned it was all down with multiple computer-controlled drones. That was impressive.
Cell phone photography is like halitosis…it’s better than no breath at all. Each of these lights is carried by a single drone. They were probably a mile away when I took this photo.
The images changed. We couldn’t see or hear the drones, and there was nothing from our location that would indicate they were drones. It was impressive.
A Puebloe Native American symbol, commandeered as the image on the New Mexico flag. This is the area where we had breakfast. Breakfast was a part of the tour package.
During our second visit, which occurred in the afternoon, the wind conditions weren’t acceptable and there was a thunderstorm moving in, which prevented the balloons from ascending. But it allowed a parachute display, and I grabbed a few photos of it.
Selection.com is a personnel agency.
Evidently the smoke generators the parachutists used create debris. One particle hit me in the face. Fortunately, it caught me in the cheek and not in my eye. That would have made for an interesting lawsuit.
Another photo of the parachutists.
Even though it was too risky for the balloons to inflate and ascend, there was a lot going on. It was fun walking around and taking iPhone pictures.
A fire truck at the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta.
Our third and last visit to the balloon fiesta field was on a brisk Sunday morning and it was the charm. After being skunked on two prior visits, the word was out: The balloons had the okay to inflate and liftoff. The winds were suitably low, visibility was good, and there were no looming electrical storms. It was a go for a mass ascension, which kind of sounds like a religious experience. In a way, it almost was.
Balloons inflating after recieving the go ahead. You walk in amongst the balloons. It’s all very exciting.
In a strange kind of way, being in the middle of the mass ascension kind of reminded me of seeing the whales in Baja. You go out in a small boat and for a while, nothing happens. Then you see a lone whale spout in the distance (like that one balloon you see going up in the photo above). Then, suddenly, there are whales spouting all around you, and then they are right up close to the boat. The balloon fiesta is a lot like that. Nothing happens at first, then you get very excited when you see that single first balloon ascend. Then, suddenly, balloons are going up all around you.
Our first balloon going up.Then, suddenly, there are balloons everywhere.The cell phone was doing a decent job for me. I would have liked having the D810 with me, but it was not meant to be. Maybe next time.The colors, and the vibrance, was off the charts. The balloon fiesta is a photographer’s paradise.Approximately 650 balloons ascended within about 30 minutes. It was impressive.Several of the balloons were more complex shapes, like this Felix the Cat version. There were turkeys and other shapes as well.This last photo is a panoramic shot, in which you manually sweep the camera through an arc (in this case, about 180 degrees). The iPhone does a suprisingly good job. The actual image is a little over 16,000 pixels wide.
A question several of my friends asked is: Did we go up in a balloon? The answer to that is no. You have to make a reservation far in advance to get a seat in one of the balloons (we had not), it costs several hundred dollars, and truth be told, I wasn’t too sure about doing it. Joe Gresh, whom we visited on our trek to Albuquerque, had done it in the past and he told us he and Colleen enjoyed it. Maybe next time.
If you have any thoughts about visiting the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta, my advice is to go for it, and to do it through a tour agency for the reasons listed above. It’s a bucket list sort of thing to do. We went with the Road Scholars tour group, they did a great job for us, and they kept us busy for the three days we were in Albuquerque.
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In 2019, just before COVID body slammed the world by stopping most travel while adding uncertainty, panic, and fear, I completed a 1,000+ kilometer motorcycle journey through the heart of Central Vietnam. This blog will be a 7-part series to highlight the beauties, wonders, and people of this magical land through the lens of a motorcyclist, philanthropist, and former soldier.
Asia. The largest continent in the World. Where the cultures are as vast as the geography. It had been some time since I was on this continent and the first time was purely by a decision that there would be better stories out of Asia than where I was supposed to be stationed, which was Texas.
It was 1992 and I was graduating AIT (Advanced Individual Training) as a U.S. Army Communications Specialist at Ft. Gordon in Augusta, Georgia. It was August and the heat and humidity were brutal. We were called into formation as this day we were to be given our orders for our first assignment as soldiers. As the Drill Sergeant called us up one by one, the anxiety in the air was intense. Would we go to Germany, remain in the United States, or maybe go to Korea? Most of us received stateside duties. As I eagerly opened my envelope, I learned my assignment was to report to Ft Hood, Texas. I was not happy at all, as my “Dream Sheet” consisted of Jamaica, Aruba, and Portugal (I figured why not try for a cool duty station even though I knew it was extremely unlikely).
The formation dispersed after about 15 minutes, and I noticed one of my peers on the burnt lawn looking distraught. He was set to be married and his fiancé was pregnant, and he now had orders to Korea for a year. It took me all of 2 seconds to look at him and say “Hey, wanna trade?” After a short chat with the Drill Instructor we made it happen. I often wonder how his days in Texas went, but I find it hard to believe it could have been more of an adventure than what was to be my first duty station as a soldier in the United States Army.
I got what I was looking for: A lot of stories and a hell of an adventure in Korea with the 2nd Infantry Division. I was posted on Korea’s demilitarized zone for a year. This story came to mind in December of 2019 as I groggily stepped off an airplane into the hot humidity of Da Nang, Vietnam to spend 3 weeks motorcycling around the country along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. It had been a long 26-hour trip from Los Angeles to what I was about to realize was a beautiful and unique country. The Vietnamese culture, although extremely beautiful, was much different then how westerners live. To see it from a motorcycle was an adventure few people experience.
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We’re introducing something new here on ExNotes. We publish new content every other day (sometimes more often, sometimes less often, but we’ve been pretty good about bringing you new stuff). But what about the days we don’t publish? We’ve published about 1200 blogs in the last four years, and a lot of them received super responses. So, on the in between days when when we don’t publish new material, we’re going to select some of our favorites from the past. This is the first. Every one of these reruns we’ll be preceded by The Wayback Machine in the title.
Enjoy, my friends. And don’t forget:
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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.
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.
An oasis is usually formed by a volcano, and when a volcano is done discussing politics, it forms a lake. That’s the San Ignacio volcano and its lake, visible on the left as you ride into town.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.
The ride into Santa Rosalia a few years ago with novelist Simon Gandolfi, Arlene Battishill, J Brandon, John Welker, and yours truly. That’s a dead fish I’m holding. We did a round trip to Cabo San Lucas on 150cc Mustang replicas, just to say that we could.
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.
The mining museum in Santa Rosalia.
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.
On one of many rides along Bahía Concepción, good buddy Joe Lee and yours truly rode our Triumph Triples. This is a favorite shot of mine.Besides “wow,” what can I say?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!
The mountain roads provided beautiful switchbacks. We saw patchy rain clouds below us eerily floating by before they were consumed by the jungle. This part of the Trail is so remote we filled up water bottles with gas to ensure our bikes wouldn’t go thirsty since there were no gas stations. Continuing up and down through mountain passes until the sunlight faded, we finally dropped into a beautiful green valley. Water buffalo wandered into our paths as the roads straightened and the jungles were replaced with open rice fields and farmers.
On our return ride it was time to make food choices again. Choosing to stop at the first crowded place made sense. We soon discovered an establishment and radioed to each other that this looked acceptable. Instantly, all eyes were upon us as we sat down in a three-walled, white-paint-chipped open room. One thing we found in Vietnam wat that when you order food, you don’t always get what you asked for. Often you get what they have, even though they will nod their head to your request while saying “ya ya ya.” In this restaurant we kept it simple and ordered pho.
