Category: Motorcycle Adventure Ride

Riding in the rain…

Wow, it has been pouring here for the last week, with little respite other than this past Sunday. Sunday was nice. Every other day this week and the tail end of last week has been nonstop rain. Big time. Buckets full. And my iPhone just started buzzing with a flash flood warning for this area. Wow again.

So I’m sitting here at the computer, enjoying a hot cup of coffee, looking out the window, and I’m thinking about what it’s like to ride in the rain. We’ve all had those rides. Those memories stick in my mind. I remember every one of those rides like they happened yesterday.

The first was the return leg of my first international motorcycle foray, when good buddy Keith Hediger and I rode up to Montreal and back. That was in the early ‘70s, and we didn’t call them adventure rides back then. They were just motorcycle rides. I was on a ’71 CB750 and Keith was on a Kawi 500cc triple. It rained the entire length of Vermont at about the same intensity you see in the video above. We had no rain gear. It wasn’t cold, but it sure was wet. We were soaked the entire day. Wouldn’t trade a minute of it. It was a great ride.

Another time was on the second ride I ever did in Baja with good buddy Baja John. It was pouring when we left at 4:00 a.m., and it didn’t let up for the entire day. I was on a Harley then, and we finally stopped somewhere around Colonet to checked into a cheap Baja hotel (a somewhat redundant term, which is becoming less redundant as Baja’s march in to the 21st century unfortunately continues). Leather, I found out on that trip, makes for lousy rain gear. I went hypothermic, and I had the shakes until 4:00 the following morning. It made for a good story, and the rest of that trip was epic. Down to Cabo, back up to La Paz, on the overnight ferry over to Mazatlan, out to Puerto Vallarta and Guadalajara, back up to Nogales, and a thousand-mile one-day dash to make it home on New Year’s Eve. Wouldn’t trade a second of it.

Riding with Marty on the ’05 Three Flags Classic, we were caught in a downpour the second day out as we rode along the Dolores River in Colorado. It was a magnificent ride, with Marty on his K1200RS and me on my 1200cc Daytona.  It wasn’t a drizzle.  It was a downpour, just like you see in the video above.  I remember it vividly, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Colombia had lots of rain, but it only hit us hard on the very first day. It was raining hard that first morning as we rode out of Medellin and into the Andes early on that fine Colombian morning, but it lightened up by breakfast. I had real rain gear and the only issues were visibility and passing 22-wheelers on blind curves, as my Colombian riders did with gleeful abandon. Exciting times. But good times, and certainly ones I remember. Colombia was an adventure for the ages. I wouldn’t trade a second of it for anything else.

I’d have to say the heaviest rains I ever rode through were in China, where it rains a lot. It probably rained 25% of the time on that trip, and the first few days were the worst. Imagine riding up into the Tibetan Plateau, in the dark, on dirt roads, in rain way heavier than what you see in the video above. That’s what it was like, and I loved every mile of that ride. I wouldn’t trade it for anything else on the planet.

You might be wondering…why no photos? Well, the simple truth is that my cameras on each trip were tightly wrapped in plastic bags, and I wasn’t about to break them out in the rain. That’s something I guess I forgot to mention in my earlier blog about what to bring on a Baja trip: Garbage bags. They take up almost no space when you’re not using them, and they work great for keeping stuff dry when you ride in the rain.

Do you feel lucky?

Lester, one of our Chinese guests, drawing a bead with a Ruger Mini 14 at the West End Gun Club.  Photo by Ying Liu.

If you do, sign up for our free email updates.  You can do so with the widget to the right (if you’re on a computer) or at the bottom (if you’re reading this blog on a mobile phone).  At the end of March, we’ll pick a name from the folks on our email list and that lucky person will get a free copy of one of our moto adventure books.  In the meantime, here’s one of my favorite chapters from 5000 Miles At 8000 RPM, one of our best selling books.   The background is this:  We had a bunch of folks coming over from China and Colombia (huh, Colombia?) to ride with us from LA to Sturgis to Washington and Oregon and back to LA along the Pacific coast, stopping at every National Park and hitting the best roads along the way.  It was a hell of a ride.  But the events of a trip to the rifle range and a nearby Bass Pro store were equally as interesting.

Take a look…here’s Chapter 12 of 5000 Miles At 8000 RPM…

The Chinese and the Colombians all arrived around the same time, and they all came in through Los Angeles International Airport. Steve and I met our six Chinese guests as they arrived. I’ll take a minute here to introduce everyone.

Hugo was the first to arrive. Hugo is a Zongshen employee, and he is the Zongshen representative and sales manager assigned to Colombia. Colombia is Zongshen’s largest export customer, and Zongshen keeps a full time representative in that country. Hugo came to us as a result of the US government denying entry visas to the original Zongshen people who planned to accompany us on the Western America Adventure Ride. I liked Hugo the instant I met him. He’s a good guy.

I should also tell you at this point that our Chinese guests’ names may be a little confusing. The Chinese use their family name first, and their given name second. Hugo’s real name is Ying Liu, so Ying is his family name and Liu is his given name. I read that and I called Hugo “Ying Lew.” He laughed at my pronunciation and told me how to say it correctly. I tried a couple of times and then dropped any pretense of being culturally sensitive. Hugo it would be.

A lot of the Chinese adopt an English name to make it easier for big dumb Americans like me to communicate with them. It’s a nice move on their part. I’m telling you all of this so you’ll realize that some of the guys have Anglicized names, and some have Chinese names. You’ll get the hang of it as the book progresses.

The next flight brought Lester, Tony, Tso, Kong, and Kyle to us.

Lester is a tall man who looks just like Yul Brynner in The King and I. He’s a physical fitness instructor in a primary school in China, and he also owns a very successful motorcycle and bicycle luggage manufacturing company in China. Lester spoke English well. He is a prominent blogger in China on their premier motorcycle forum. Lester blogged about our trip extensively while we were on the road.

Tony is a celebrity photographer. He owns several motorcycles and his photos are widely published in China and other parts of Asia. He’s an interesting man. You’ll see him holding a small stuffed dog in my photos. That’s MoMo, a mascot who has accompanied Tony to more than 20 countries.

Tso would emerge as the quiet one in our group. He stuck with his Chinese name (it’s pronounced “szo” with a hard “sz” sound). Tso is another industrialist; he owns a motorcycle clothing company in China. He was wearing his company’s motorcycle gear, as were several of the other Chinese riders.

When I met Kong, I immediately told him that from this point forward on our ride, he would be “King Kong.” The Chinese got a big laugh out of that. They all knew the movie and they all liked Kong’s new name. Kong is a prominent automotive journalist in China.

Kyle had an English name, but he didn’t speak much English. He is an advertising designer and executive, and his customers include the big oil companies in China. Kyle was a lot of fun, and he sure could work wonders with a video camera.

I asked Hugo how Zongshen selected these guys for the Western America Adventure Ride. I didn’t understand everything he told me, but I think it was based on their motorcycling experience and a contest of some sort Zongshen had held in China. Each of these guys has a huge media following in China. They were all what I would call high rollers. These folks owned their own companies and were well-known writers and bloggers in China.

The two Colombians also met us at the airport that night. Their participation in the ride was a last minute arrangement. I received a Skype message from Hugo about a week before the ride asking me if the Colombians could accompany us. It was a surprise to me, but I didn’t have a problem with it. I thought they would be AKT employees, but they weren’t.

Juan Carlos, one of the two Colombians, owns the only motorcycle magazine in Colombia. He’s a tall thin guy and an excellent rider. He once rode a KLR 650 to Tierra del Fuego, the southernmost tip of South America, and he had written a hell of a story about it.

Gabriel Abad was the other Colombian. He was instrumental in helping Juan Carlos start his motorcycle magazine. Although Gabriel is a Colombian, he lives in Canada. That certainly was in keeping with the international flavor of our team.

When our good buddies from China and Colombia arrived in the USA that evening, one of their first requests was for an In-N-Out Burger. We did that on the way home from LAX. Then it was on to the hotel in Duarte (the next town over from Azusa) and a good night’s sleep after their long journeys to America.

We had a spare 2 days before the ride. We rode around locally to get everybody used to their bikes on the first day, and on the morning of the second day I asked our guests what they would like to do.

Their answer was direct: We want to shoot a gun.

I was happy to oblige. I’m a firearms enthusiast and I’ve been a member of our local gun club for decades. I put my Ruger Mini 14 in the van and we were off to the West End Gun Club.

Our guests were fascinated with everything America has to offer, and the freedom guaranteed by our 2nd Amendment was obviously high on that list. After a brief lesson at the gun club on the rifle, the .223 cartridge, and firearms safety, we set up a target and took turns putting the Ruger through its paces. The guys loved it. The smiles were real, and I had brought along plenty of ammo. The Chinese and the Colombians did well. Literally every shot was on target. They told me I was a good teacher. I think they are just good shots.

Now before any of you get your shorts in a knot about guns and shooting, let me tell you that even though I am a strong 2nd Amendment supporter, I can understand why some of you might be opposed to the freedoms guaranteed by the US Constitution. When I go to a public range I sometimes see people who I wouldn’t allow to have oxygen (let alone firearms).

The problem, as I see it, is that if you restrict our rights in this area, it would be a government pinhead making the call on who gets to have guns and who doesn’t (and that scares me even more than some of the yahoos I see with guns). It’s a tough call, but I’ll come down on the side of the 2nd Amendment every time. The founding fathers knew what they were doing, and they did it before the pinheads permeated the government.

Ah, but I digress yet again. Back to the main attraction…my day at the range with our guests.

I didn’t get photos of that event. I was busy teaching, watching, and explaining, and I just didn’t have an opportunity. The Chinese and the Colombians did. They were having a blast (literally and figuratively), and they captured hundreds of photos. I didn’t realize just how special this would be to them when we first left Azusa for the gun club, but it became apparent as soon as we arrived at the range. They all ran up to the line and were fascinated by the spent brass lying on the ground. Several of our guests took pictures. Imagine that…taking pictures of empty shell casings!

When I took the rifle out of its case and opened the ammo box, there were even more oohs and aahhhs. And more photos. I guess I’m so used to being around this stuff I didn’t realize how special this day was for our guests. These guys had never held or fired a gun before. Ever. I was amazed by that. They were amazed that we have the freedom to own and shoot firearms. It was an interesting afternoon.

When we finished, all of our guests collected their targets. I had brought along enough targets to give each person their own. We had the range to ourselves that afternoon, so each of the guys would shoot a magazine full of 5.56 ammo, we made the rifle safe, we went downrange to see how each person did, and then we put up a new target for the next guy. Many of the guys repeated that cycle three or four times. It was fun. The guys were like kids in a candy store. I enjoyed being a part of it.

It was hot when we finished shooting at around 4:00 p.m. that day. We were due to meet for dinner at Pinnacle Peaks (a great barbeque place in San Dimas) at 6:00 p.m., and we had a couple of hours to kill. I asked our guests if there was anything else they wanted to do before we went for dinner. My thought was that they might want to go back to the hotel and freshen up. That’s not what they had on their minds. They had another request: Can we go to a gun store?

That sounded like a good idea to me. We have a Bass Pro near where we were, and it’s awesome. Okay, then. Our next stop would be Bass Pro.

I was already getting a sense of how much our guests liked taking pictures, so I told them when we entered the gun department at Bass Pro we should put the cameras away. Usually there are signs prohibiting photography in these kinds of places. We gun enthusiasts don’t like being photographed by people we don’t know when we are handling firearms (big brother, black helicopters, and all the rest of the unease that comes with a healthy case of paranoia and a deep distrust of the government). I told our guests I would ask if we could take photos, but until then, I asked them to please keep their cameras in their cases.

The guys were in awe when we entered Bass Pro, and then they were even more astounded when we reached the gun department. They were literally speechless. Open mouths. Wide eyes. Unabashed amazement. There isn’t anything like Bass Pro in China or Colombia. I’ve been to both countries and I know that to be the case. Hell, there wasn’t anything like Bass Pro in America until a few years ago. It’s a combination of a museum, a theme park, a gun store, an armory, and a shopping emporium. I love the place and all that it says about America.

Now, you have to picture this. The Bass Pro gun department. Hundreds of rifles and handguns on display. Targets. Ammo. Gun cases. Reloading gear. A bunch of guys from China talking excitedly a hundred miles an hour in Chinese. The rest of the customers watching, literally with dropped jaws, wondering what was going on. We were a sight.

The Colombians were talking excitedly the same way, but in Spanish.

I was the only guy who looked like he might be from America (my YouTubby belly probably gave me away). The gun department manager looked at me with a quizzical eye. I explained to him who we were and why these guys were so excited. He smiled. “Would they like to take pictures?” he asked. Hoo boy!

The guys loved it. So did the Bass Pro staff. They were handing the Chinese these monster Smith and Wesson .500 Magnums so they could pose for photos, ala Dirty Harry. It was quite a moment and it made quite an impression. One of the guys had his video camera out and he was recording one of the Chinese riders holding a huge Smith and Wesson revolver. The guy with the revolver did a pretty good impersonation of Clint Eastwood (albeit with a Chinese accent):

Do you feel lucky, punk? Well, do ya?

It was pretty funny. That Dirty Harry movie is 40 years old and it was made before most of our guests were born, but these guys knew that line. The Chinese would surprise me a number of times with their mastery of many American things from our movies and our music. All that’s coming up later in this story, folks.

The Chinese and the Colombians were absolutely fascinated with the whole guns and shooting thing and what it is like to live in America, and the Bass Pro staff were quite taken with them. I was pleased. Our guests were getting a first-hand look at American freedoms and American hospitality. It was a theme we would continue to see emerge throughout the Western America Adventure Ride.

For me, a crowning moment occurred on the way to dinner that night. One of the Chinese told me that all the time he was growing up he had been told that Americans were evil and we were their enemy. “That’s just not true,” he said.

Mission accomplished, I thought.

A Tale of Two Travelers

I had a great lunch last week with Trevor Summons, the fellow who won our quarterly email drawing for a copy of Moto Colombia.  Wow, was I ever surprised.  When I met Trevor and gave him a copy of my book, he gave me a copy of his!

Good buddy, fellow traveler, and author Trevor Summons…and a copy of Trevor’s Travels.

Trevor writes a newspaper column appropriately titled, “Trevor’s Travels.”  The columns feature cool places to visit, mostly here in the Southland.  Well, Trevor combined some of his favorites into a book with the same title (Trevor’s Travels, of course) and it’s good.   Really good.  I enjoyed reading Trevor’s column and there are a few I’ve missed, but I’m busy catching up with the book.

Hey, don’t feel bad if you haven’t written your own book.  You can still win a copy of one of mine when you add your name to our automatic email update list.  Our next contest ends 31 March, so don’t wait…add your name now!

Baja Spares

When you’re out here, you can’t call Triple A.  Rural Baja is the great equalizer among motorcycle marques. You’ll see the same number of Honda, Kawasaki, Suzuki, Yamaha, BMW, Harley, Ducati, and CSC dealers:  That number is zero.  You need to be able to take care of your motorcycle.

One question I hear a lot from when I’m organizing a tour in Baja is: What spare parts should I bring?  It can get desolate down there, and it makes sense to be prepared.

Well, that’s a great question. The idea is to bring enough things you might need so you don’t get stranded, but to also travel light. You don’t want to get weighed down carrying too much stuff, but you want to have the items you might need.  The simple fact is that most motorcycles today are extremely reliable, so the likelihood of needing a spare part is remote. That said, there are a few things that I always bring.

I used to say getting a flat tire on a motorcycle trip is a relatively rare event.  Unless you’re Joe Gresh. The first time I met Gresh, which was on the CSC Western America Adventure Ride, he told me that he’s “that guy” who usually gets a flat tire.  I kind of blew off that thought when Joe said it, and it slipped further from my mind for most of our Western America adventure.  We had covered roughly 4500 miles of a 5000-mile ride with nary a single flat, but sure enough, Joe got one just north of San Francisco on the way back to So Cal. We limped into an independent cycle shop, with me realizing that Gresh was right.  He was “that guy.”   Won’t happen to me, I thought.  Then I got a flat on the ride across China. Hey, it happens.

So, the deal is this…if you’re running tubeless tires, you’ll need a patch kit and something to put air back in the tire. If you’re running tube tires it gets a bit more complicated: You’ll need an approach for getting the bike off the ground and you’ll need tools to get the deflated wheel and tire off the bike, and then you’ll need tire spoons to get the tire off the wheel. Since both of my current bikes run tube tires, I carry spare tubes and a tire pump. I have a small electric pump that runs off my bike’s battery (you need to start and run the engine while you’re pumping the tire up, or you’ll kill the battery). Since most of us ride bikes that have different front and rear wheels, when I’m traveling with others I’ll usually take the front tube, and one of my friends will take the rear tube.

A small tire pump that attaches to your motorcycle’s battery. You can get these at a lot of places; CSC Motorcycles sells them online and their customer service is the best in the business.

Next up…the spark plug. I’ve never replaced one on a trip, but I always carry a spare. They’re small. It makes me feel good.

I always carry a throttle cable and a clutch cable. Same deal…I’ve never needed to replace these on the road, but they don’t take up much space.

I bring chain lube with me, but if I forget to bring it, it’s not a big deal. Someone has always just put a quart of oil in their car at every gas station I’ve ever been in, and I can always find an “empty” quart container. Usually there’s enough residual oil in it that I can hold it upside down and get some oil on my chain. But it’s better just to bring along a spray can of chain lube, and you won’t get the back of your bike sprayed with motor oil if you rely on residual oil from someone’s empty oil can.

If I’m going to be out in the boonies (like on a trip through Baja), I’ll bring a spare quart of oil with me, especially if I’m on my TT250.  CG clone motors use a little oil, especially if you push them hard. KLRs have a reputation for being oilers. You know your bike. If it uses oil, better to bring some along rather than having to go look for it.  And on that topic, I check my oil every night when I’m on a long ride. You’d be surprised how many bikes come into dealers with seized engines and no oil in the crankcase.

I bring a spare headlight bulb and a spare taillight bulb. Baja and its topes usually induce a bulb failure about every third trip I make down there.

I bring Sea Foam with me. If my bike starts running rough after I put gas in it, a capful of Sea Foam is just what the doctor ordered. It takes care of any water that might have found its way from the gas pump into your tank.

If I’m riding my RX3, I bring along a spare countershaft sprocket nut. On my first ride in Baja with a bunch of other guys on RX3s, good buddy Justin lost his, and after screwing around for a day or two we ended up having to pay a machine shop to make a custom nut.  If your bike has a part that it occasionally loses, bring a spare. You know your bike better than I do, so do your homework and decide what makes sense to bring along.

Adapt, overcome, improvise. That steel wire served as a countershaft sprocket nut for 70 miles until we found a replacement. Go Justin!

A spare master link is a good idea. I’ve never needed one, but I feel better knowing I have one with me.  They take up almost no space.

I always bring an assortment of the small nuts, bolts, and screws that my bike uses. You never know what’s going to vibrate off.   It happens on all bikes.

A tool kit with real tools is a good idea. Putting one together will help you get to know your bike.

I always bring a tool kit, but it’s never the tool kit that comes with the bike (if, indeed, your bike even has one). The tools that come with a bike are almost always cheaply made and they often don’t work well. Whenever I get a bike, I’ll put together a collection of sockets, a ratchet, the two or three box end wrenches the bike needs (including those for the axle nut and bolt), a screwdriver with Phillips and blade tips, a small crescent wrench, and whatever Allen wrenches the bike needs. Throw in a set of pliers, a small pair of vise-grips (which can be used as a shift lever in a pinch), a bit of steel wire, and I’m good to go.

Hey, there’s lots of good stuff coming up, folks. Our next Baja ride, how to pack for Baja, what kind of camera gear to bring with you on a Baja ride, and more.  Lots more.  We’ll continue to include links to our Baja stuff on our ExNotes Baja page, and you don’t want to miss any of it.  Sign up for our automatic email updates every time we post a new blog, and you won’t miss a thing!

Whale Watching!

The very title conjures excitement. Whales! Big, giant monsters…the creatures of legend. Visions of Moby Dick. Herman Melville. Call me Ishmael, and all that…

Yep, this is a topic I’ve covered before, back in September, but I like whale watching in Baja so much I thought we’d cover it again.  And yeah, Danny boy, you’re right…we’re inviting you to ride with us in March if you want to go.  You have to pass the personality test (which basically means if you’re a jerk we’ll take a pass) and you’ll have to convince us you have a significant social media presence (we want you to help us spread the ExNotes word).   Oh, yeah…one more thing…you’ll have to show up with a copy of Moto Baja!  We’ll sign it for you, and we want you to read the book so you know a bit more about riding in Baja before we head out.  We’ll be putting out more details on our March Baja ride in the near future, so keep an eye on the blog.

The best book on the best riding on the planet!

I’m convinced that the only reason the towns of Guerrero Negro and San Ignacio are not absolutely overrun with visitors during the months of January through March is that most folks just don’t know about the whale watching in Baja. To get to the point: It is the best in the world. That’s no idle overreach or hyperbole on my part. It is the best. It is the only place on the planet where you can get up close to the California grays and, in many cases, actually touch them. Go whale watching here in California and there will be maybe a hundred or more people on a large boat, and the closest you’ll get to a whale is maybe a hundred yards out in the open ocean. You might see one or more spout in the distance and it’s “mission accomplished.”

Not in Baja. It’s way better in Baja.  You’ll get on a little boat carrying maybe 8 or 10 people, you’ll go out in Scammon’s Lagoon or San Ignacio Lagoon, and you’ll be in the middle of a pod of whales.  Up close and personal. One will spout, then another, and then, suddenly, it’s like being caught in a lawn when the sprinklers go off. You’re surrounded, and they’re all close.

Mama and baby and me makes three. Baja whale watching. It’s the best in the world.

That’s when the fun starts. A whale or two, maybe twice the length of the little boat you’re bobbing around in, come right up to your boat. As in touching your boat. Then they exhale, or spout, and you’re covered in what you hope is sea water and not whale snot. Everybody laughs, including the whales.  You realize there are literally thousands of whales in your lagoon. And then you see two whales, and you realize the larger one is the mom. She’s literally pushing the little one closer to your boat, training her calf not to be afraid of people.

Ewwwww!

You’re excited about seeing the whales. They’re excited about seeing the people.  That’s when you feel it. There’s some kind of extra-sensory-perception thing happening between you and the whales. No one who ever does this goes away feeling the same. I’ve done it maybe 20 times now, and I can’t wait to get down there to do it again.

The story goes like this: More than a century ago, whalers wondered where the whales were going. You see, the California grays spend their lives on the longest migration of any mammal. They winter in Baja and summer in Alaska (which probably makes them smarter than us). But when the whalers were hunting them, the bad guys didn’t know this. They harvested (read: slaughtered) the whales they could catch out in the open ocean heading south in the months before that January-March window, or headed north after those three months, always wondering where they were headed. Then, in the 1800s, a whaling captain named Scammon discovered the lagoon that carries his name today and the word got out: These whales are all holed up in Scammon’s Lagoon. It was a blood bath and the herd of approximately 20,000 California gray whales nearly went extinct.

That’s when the Mexican government stepped in and protected the herd. It’s taken a while, but they’re back up to a population of 20,000 whales, which is what the ocean will support.

A few years ago when I was on one of my whale-watching Baja trips, there were half a dozen Mexican Navy gun boats out in the lagoon, something I had never seen before. I asked our boat captain about it, and he told me that none other than Vincente Fox, President of Mexico, was going whale watching that day. He had plans to develop the Guerrero Negro area into an industrial center, a home for manufacturers, a move opposed by Mexican environmentalists because they feared it might affect the whales, the ospreys, the sea lions, and the other protected critters in this corridor. They implored Mr. Fox to see the whales, knowing that ESP thing would kick in. The day I was there he was doing that. After his excursion, folks asked the President if he would pursue his vision of an industrial zone. “Leave it as is,” Mr. Fox answered. He knew.

Getting there takes a day or two, and taking two days is the better approach. Simply head south from California. Cross in Tijuana, stop to pick up a free Tourist Visa, and head south. I’ve made Guerrero Negro in a single day, but that required getting up at 4:00 a.m. here in Los Angeles and riding hard for the next 700 miles, much of it in the Valle de los Cirios twisties. No, it’s better to take an easy lope down, spend the evening in San Quintin, El Rosario, or Catavina, and then continue the trek south the next morning. Hotels abound in all locations, and the ride south is best savored like a fine wine. Make sure you have Mexican insurance (go with BajaBound; we always do), and bring your passport. You won’t need it to get into Mexico, but you will need it to get back into the US.

The options are to stay in Guerrero Negro and grab a whale watching tour there, or continue south for another 70 miles to San Ignacio. In my opinion, Guerrero Negro is the better option because the ride to the Scammon’s Lagoon takes only a few minutes. If you stay in San Ignacio (a beautiful little town in the center of the peninsula) getting to San Ignacio Lagoon is an hour ride on a rough dirt (read: soft sand) road.

Malarrimo’s in Guerrero Negro is a wonderful place to stay, but the other hotels in Guerrero Negro are also great.

There are hotel choices in both places. I like Malarrimo’s in Guerrero Negro, but they’re all good. Malarimmo’s is the original place for Baja whale watching, but there are others and they are all good. You may be able to call ahead and get reservations, but it helps if you speak Spanish. If it just me and one or two of my friends, we just go. If I’m bringing a group down, I call ahead for reservations.

The whale watching tours are $50 (that’s US dollars), but trust me on this: It’s the best $50 you’ll ever spend.

You can go out in the morning or the afternoon (I usually pick the morning tour), and like I said above, the whales are in town from January through March. I like March, because the weather is milder, and I think the whales are friendlier (they’ve had three months to get used to interacting with people).   You’ll see whales, you’ll see baby whales, and you might even get to see whales mating.   Actually, if that’s going on, all you’ll see is a lot of turbulence on the surface, but they tell me there’s a whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on down there.

Whale watching in Baja: It’s a hoot…and it’s still one of the best-kept secrets on the planet. You need to get down there and see it before the rest of the world finds out.  You can thank me later.

A nice note from Sergeant Zuo…

I had a nice surprise this morning…a nice note (complete with great photos) from Sergeant Zuo, our ride leader on the 2016 RX3 adventure ride across China.  Zuo and I became friends immediately on that trip.  He’s a retired Chinese Army senior NCO, and I was a lieutenant many years ago in the US Army.    Here’s the note from Zuo…

大舅：
请原谅我给您迟到的问候：新年快乐！
去年12月31日我们甘肃赛科龙俱乐部搞年会比较忙，没有及时想您新年的祝福，实在抱歉。
看您和二舅搞的论坛是我最大的一个乐趣，能从您的文章里看到你是我最高兴的事情。我可以借助翻译软件读懂您的文章。
您在中国的那段时间我们建立起来的感情不会因为山高路远而削弱，那些点点滴滴是我一辈子值得珍惜的。好几次在梦里都回到了我们在一起骑行的日子，这也许就是人们常说的“神交”吧。
2018年5月份我和俱乐部的几个车友参加了宗申在新疆搞的“龙行环塔活动”——宗申车队参加中国环塔拉力赛邀请我们RX3车主去做亲友团，之后就一直上班，在没有大的骑行活动。
最后祝您和爱人身体健康。
送您几张今年骑行的照片。
—— 左振义 2019年1月3日于中国兰州

In first photo above, Zuo is the guy on the left.   What’s that?  You don’t speak Chinese?   Okay, here you go…

Dajiu:
Please forgive me for your late greetings: Happy New Year!
On December 31 last year, our Gansu Secco Club was busy with the annual meeting. I didn’t send your New Year’s greetings in time. I am really sorry.
It is my greatest pleasure to see the forums you and that the two of you are engaged in it. It is my happiest thing to see you from your article. I can read your article with translation software.
The feelings we built up during the time in China will not be weakened by the high mountains and high roads. Those bits and pieces are worth cherishing for my whole life. On several occasions, I returned to the days when we were riding together in our dreams. This may be what people often say about “God Exchange.”
In May 2018, I and several club riders of the club participated in the “Dragon Line Ring Tower” held by Zongshen in Xinjiang. Zongshen Racing Team participated in the China Ring Rally and invited our RX3 owners and their  friends and relatives. It is a big cycling activity.
Finally, I wish you and your friend good health.
Send you a few photos of this year’s ride.
—— Zuo Zhenyi January 3, 2019 in Lanzhou, China

For those of you who don’t know, Dajiu is my Chinese name, bestowed upon me by the Chinese riders during our 5,000-mile Western America Adventure Ride.  It means Big Uncle.  Gresh and I were both on that ride; his similarly-bestowed Chinese name is Arjiu, or Little Uncle.  You can read all about that, and more, in Riding China.  (You should buy several copies.  They make great gifts.)

Zuo, my friend, it’s always great to hear from you.  Ride safe.   When you’re ready to visit the US, we’ll have a cold beer and a warm welcome waiting for you!

Three Flags Classic: Day 2

The second day of the 2005 Three Flags Classic motorcycle rally would take us from Gallup, New Mexico (where we stayed the first night of the tour) to Grand Junction, Colorado.  You can catch up on the ride by reading our prior blog posts here:

The 2005 Three Flags Classic Rally:  the Intro!

The Three Flags Classic:  Day 1

And with that, let’s get to Day 2!

Day 2 of the 2005 Three Flags Rally. Good times. Great roads. Gorgeous scenery. A grand ride in every respect!

To continue the adventure, we were up early and we rolled out of Gallup, New Mexico on a beautiful day.  The bikes were running great and Marty and I were in high spirits.  It’s hard to put into words what it feels like to be on these kinds of rides.  You’re out in the world, on a powerful motorcycle, seeing things worth seeing.   It’s a great experience and a great feeling.  Everything just seems better to me when I’m on a motorcycle ride.  I sleep better, the food has better flavors, the people are friendlier, the bikes feel stronger, and on and on it goes.  You need to experience it to really understand it.  You folks who ride the big rides know what I’m talking about.

We spent very little time on the freeways on the Three Flags Rally. Most of our riding was on magnificent roads like the ones you see in the photos below.  The folks at the Southern California Motorcycle Association who planned the ride did a fantastic job.

Another cool shot on the road in New Mexico. That’s Marty and his K1200RS BMW, with my Daytona in the background. Marty still owns the K1200RS. It has 144,000 miles on the clock.
Another Daytona shot in New Mexico. That’s Shiprock in the background.

If it seems like there are a lot of pictures of my Daytona here, well, I guess there are. I loved owning the Daytona, and the more I rode it, the more I liked it. For a cool story on how I came to own this bike, check out this blog entry I wrote a few months ago.

A few miles up the road from this location, we crossed into Colorado. This was my first time in Colorado, other than passing through the airport in Denver a few time on business trips.  But those stops don’t really count…a layover in any airport could be a layover in, well, any other airport.

Mesa Verde, Colorado. Wow…this was a great ride!

Marty wanted to stop in Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado.  I had never heard of the place (I don’t get out enough, I guess), but I was up for it.  Marty was a very easy guy to travel with and he didn’t have many preferences.  He was a judge (that is to say, he’s the real deal…a Superior Court judge), and he told me that he didn’t want to make any decisions on this ride.  Where we stayed, where we stopped to eat, and all the rest were up to me.  I think that’s because Marty was paid to make decisions all day long.   Making decisions was his job, and he wanted a break.    So when he asked to hit Mesa Verde, it was about the only time he expressed a preference on where to go, and I was all for that.  It was a good move.   Mesa Verde National Park is an impressive place.

The ride up to the top of Mesa Verde (it literally means “green table” in Spanish) was awesome.  It’s a multi-mile climb to about 8500 feet, and the vistas are incredible.  You can see clear into New Mexico from the top.

All of the above, as you can see from the photos, was grand.  But the main attractions at Mesa Verde National Park are the ancestral Pueblo Native American ruins.   That part of the Park is almost beyond belief.  It’s real Indiana Jones stuff.

Ancient Indian cliff dwellings in Mesa Verde. If you’ve never been to Mesa Verde National Park, trust me on this: You need to make the trip. Watch for the next issue of Motorcycle Classics magazine…it’s got all the good info on where to stay, where to eat, and more.

Mesa Verde is a very interesting National Park.   I liked it so much that Sue and I took a road trip there last summer to explore the area in more detail.  I’d been thinking about it in the 14 years that have elapsed since the 2005 Three Flags Classic.  I wanted to see it again and bring my wife so she could see it.   The Native American cliff dwellings are amazing and the scenery is magnificent.  I have a story coming out on Mesa Verde in the next issue of Motorcycle Classics magazine.  It really is a special place.  Marty made the right call on this one.   Hey, he’s a judge.  The guy makes good decisions!

After Mesa Verde, we rode through heavy rains along the Dolores River and stopped in Telluride, Colorado.  The sun came out just as we entered town.   The ride along the Dolores River in Colorado was beautiful even in the rain.   We were having a grand time.

Downtown Telluride, washed clean by a torrential Colorado rain.

We had a checkpoint in Rangely, Colorado. It was a great experience.  I had a conversation with a guy named Pat (a BMW GS rider), and it turned out he lives one street over from where I live in California.   I mean, think about that: Here we were, probably 1300 miles from So Cal, two guys strike up a conversation, and it turns out we’re practically neighbors (but we had never met before this ride).   What are the odds?

Good buddy and GS rider Pat, a fellow Californio, at a checkpoint in Colorado.

We made Grand Junction, Colorado, where we would be spending the night, and we reconnected with our friends at the hotel.  Dinner was great, and then the rain started again.   I felt like taking more photos after dinner and I wanted to play with a couple of new toys.  I had just purchased an ultra-wide Sigma 17-35 lens and I wanted use it.  I had also purchased a Sunpak MiniPro Plus tripod for the trip.  It looked like it was going to be a good idea, but it was a bust. One of the legs broke off halfway through the ride, and I threw the thing away.  I almost never travel with a tripod any more.   They’re just too bulky, and I can usually find something to steady the camera for evening shots.

Our bikes, parked in the rain at the hotel in Grand Junction, Colorado. I used the 17-35 Sigma for this shot, and my uber-cheap tripod (before it broke).

That wrapped up Day 2 of our Three Flags Classic ride in 2005.   It was a great ride.   We were two days into it and we had already ridden halfway across the United States.   Out tally so far was two countries and four states.  We still had several more states and another whole country to go.  It was magnificent.

There’s more to come on this grand adventure, folks.  Stay tuned for Day 3!

And the winner is…

Our moto adventure book giveaway winner is none other than good buddy Trevor Summons, and that’s a hell of a coincidence. I actually know Trevor. We have quite a few folks following the ExNotes blog, and Trevor is one of those who signed up for automatic email notifications when we post a new blog.  I first met Trevor when he did a story on CSC Motorcycles several years ago for the Daily Bulletin newspaper, and we’ve stayed in touch since.

Trevor and his Harley Heritage. Harleys have been featured a lot lately here on the ExNotes blog!

Trevor’s the real deal…he’s a columnist who writes the “Trevor’s Travels” feature, and he’s a Harley-Davidson rider.  Trevor and his son (who lives in Japan) do a 3,000-mile moto camping trip every year. They’ve been to the Canadian border, Sturgis, Yellowstone twice, and southern Colorado. This past September Trevor and his son went up to northern Ontario (the one in Canada, not here in So Cal).

Trevor opted for a signed copy of Moto Colombia, and we’re getting together for lunch sometime in the next couple of weeks so I can give it to him. You can bet I’ll grab a photo or two when we do that.

You can order your own copy of Moto Colombia right here!

For those of you who didn’t win this time, don’t have a cow.  We’re going to have a regular quarterly book give away, and the next contest starts today. We’ll announce the winner on April 1st, except it will be for real (that is to say, it won’t be an April Fools sort of thing). All you need to do to enter is be on our email list, and you can do that by adding your email address to the widget on this page!

Buffalo’s Vietnam videos…

I first met Buffalo Bonker on one of the CSC Baja rides and I liked the guy immediately.  I think it may have taken him a bit longer to warm up to me, but I’m told I’m an acquired taste, so that’s okay.  Anyway, Buffalo bought his first motorcycle ever and learned to ride just for the Baja trip, and he caught the spirit.  The guy is a true adventure rider, so much so that he and his cousin (and his cousin’s daughter) flew to Vietnam, rented motorcycles, and toured the country.  That’s very, very cool.  I’m in awe.

Buffalo created a series of videos about his Vietnam adventure ride.  I’m including the first one here, and a link to the entire series.  Enjoy, my friends.  I sure did!

Lunch at Jardines

You guys and gals will remember my good buddy Baja John, a guy with whom I’ve been exploring Baja for close to three decades now…

Baja John back in the mid-’90s. Big V-twins and black leather were all the rage. I shot this photo at La Bufadora during a break in the El Nino rains.

John sent an invitation to me to ride with him in Baja this month, but I couldn’t make it (I’ve been in northern California this week).   I suggested to John that our ExNotes readers sure would appreciate it, though, if he could send photos from his trip, though, and here’s an email I just received from him…

Joe,

I was originally going to send you just the pictures when you mentioned putting pictures in the blog, so I thought that you might want a story to go with them. I’ve attached a Word document with a story just in case. For some reason, I cannot transfer the pictures to my laptop, so I left places within the document to place the pictures. I will try again to upload the pictures from my phone to my email. Hopefully it works this time. It should be easy to figure out which picture goes where. If you don’t want the story, just enjoy the pictures. BTW, I just finished two fish tacos and two shrimp tacos at Antonio’s. I may go back and eat another one for you before I leave town.

John

That sounds awesome, John.  Tell Tony hi for me when you see him again, and tell him I’ll be down there soon enough!  We sure appreciate the story and the photos.  And folks, without further ado, here’s Baja John’s most recent Baja adventure…

In early 2002, I bought a house in Bahia de Los Angeles on the Baja Peninsula with thoughts of retiring there someday. Over the ensuing years, I continued to ride motorcycles to and from Mexico, anxious for the day when I could leave from my house in Mexico instead of riding 600 miles just to get there, and then begin my ride. Well, that day finally arrived, and I decided to take a ride to Jardines in San Quintin for lunch. I’d heard a number of positive remarks from fellow Americans who had stayed there and who had eaten there. It was time to give the place a personal assessment.

I packed some snacks and water in my tank bag in preparation for my trip. The morning was cool and crisp when I left. It was within a couple of days of the winter solstice and the days were short, so my plan was to leave at sunup, hoping to complete the 450-mile roundtrip before dark. This picture was taken about 20 miles out of town.

The fog nestled so close to the ground made it appear as though I was looking at a forest of cacti poking their heads through the clouds. For some unknown reason, I took that as an omen of good things to come. I passed one truck on that 40 mile stretch to the main highway.

When I reached the junction at Highway 1, my fuel gauge read 3/4 full. I turned to the north, and immediately saw this sign.

I wasn’t yet familiar with my CSC TT250, but I had read reviews of 65 mpg, and since I didn’t yet know what 3/4 full meant on my bike, I decided to press on, optimistic that I would find gas somewhere on the way.

Traffic increased on Highway 1. I guess that’s to be expected since it’s the only paved highway that travels the entire length of the peninsula. After passing 6 vehicles within the first 30 minutes, I decided that traffic probably wasn’t going to be bad enough to have a negative impact on my ride, so I continued north, enjoying the solitude and watching the highway twist its way through the desert as I came down yet another mountain.

As I continued north, I noticed my gas gauge reaching 1/2 full at Chapala. I still had 63 miles to go to Catavina, which was the only place that I thought may have gas. Hoping that the gauge accuracy was a bit on the conservative side, I continued on. Running the numbers in my head, I concluded that I should make it to Catavina, even if my actual fuel level was a little less than indicated. However, if Catavina didn’t have gas, then I was going to either have to stay there until I could find someone passing through with extra gas, or try to locate a rancho that might have a couple of gallons to spare. Fortunately, in Catavina I came across a small sign stuck in the dirt on the left side of the highway that said Pemex. The arrow pointed to the right side of the road, and as my eyes scanned the opposite side of the highway, I saw a pickup truck with a couple of 55 gal drums and a few one gallon plastic containers. By this time I had travelled about half the distance to San Quintin, and although my low fuel light was already flashing, I still had not gone on reserve

I figured the price would be astronomical, but that was ok since I would only need a couple of gallons. Surprisingly, it was only $1 per gallon higher than the Pemex station where I had filled up in my town the day before. Confident that I could now make it the rest of the way to San Quintin, I pressed on north, maintaining between 60 and 65 mph indicated.

The desert continued to get greener as I closed in on the town of El Rosario where Mama Espinoza’s famous restaurant is located. I passed by knowing that I had a meal waiting for me in less than an hour at Jardine’s. Traffic remained consistent through the remainder of my trip, and I reached my destination at 11 a.m.

Jardines was like an oasis in the middle of the desert. There were no signs indicating its presence, and as I turned off the main highway just south of town, I thought the place must really be nice since it appeared that they relied on word of mouth for advertisement. Making the turn onto the final dirt road, I still didn’t see it, and there was no indication that a hotel existed anywhere ahead.

After a 1/2 mile, a beautiful hotel, restaurant, and gardens appeared on the right through the trees.

I pulled into the empty parking lot of the restaurant, dismounted, and approached the door. It was locked. Fortunately the hours were posted. Another hour before they opened. That wasn’t good. If I waited around until they opened, got seated and served, I wouldn’t get back on the road until after 1 p.m. That would make it difficult to make it home before dark. Hmmm! Better check the hotel. I had heard the rates were good, but I was pleasantly surprised that a single room was only $31. A two bedroom-suite was a bit steeper at $45. It didn’t take me long to decide to take advantage of one of the perks of retirement – unscheduled time. I quickly pulled out my wallet, checked in, walked around the grounds for a few minutes, and then waited outside the restaurant until they opened.

I opted for the Mediterranean Shrimp at $8.40.

It was fantastic. I was seriously glad that I decided to stay. I kept occupied throughout the day by reading my kindle and talking to Anna, the hotel manager that day. She had spent several years in Wichita, KS, so she spoke English quite well. That night I paid a whopping $4.00 for some Fish and Chips. Another great meal.

The next morning I took my time riding around the area before heading home. I finally left town at 11 a.m. Traffic was the same as the previous day, and I made it home at 3:30 p.m. I stopped for a moment, looking at the moon over the bay before winding my way down the mountain toward home.

Hard to believe; for less than $100 I had a wonderful two days of riding, great food, a good night’s sleep and not one stop light. I feel truly blessed.

Just awesome, John!   I had never heard of Jardines, but you can bet it’s on the list for my next visit.  Thanks again.

Folks, if you’d like to know more about Baja and our moto adventures down there (and our recommended insurance company, BajaBound), just click here!   And if you’d like a more in-depth discussion of what is arguably the greatest adventure riding spot on the planet, why not pick up a copy of Moto Baja!