Day 15 - La ReDonda Hostel, Sayulita

Following another banana pancake, we said our goodbyes, took a couple of photos of the lovely town of Sayulita, and headed east, inland, towards Tequila. The route out of Sayulita took us along some of the same roads that hugged the coastline that we had taken on the ride in. Not a bad thing as the roads were great and the glimpses of the ocean through the trees kept our spirits high. However, as we pulled on to the main highway towards Guadalajara, it got hot, ridiculously hot. The scenery wasn’t great, which I suppose is fair enough as we were just hammering the miles out on the highway, not taking the smaller, more interesting route through some of the villages. We wanted to cover distance and try to get to Tequila in time to take an afternoon tour of a tequila factory, so sticking to the main highway gave us the best shot in terms of timescales. Mexico is bloody massive, and it was a tough day riding to cover the miles in the heat. At 1 point, we got caught up in some road works and had to wait for about 15 minutes in a queue of traffic. Whilst the gear that Fly Racing have provided is awesome, and the vent system, particularly in the jacket, ensures that whilst you are moving, there is a flow of air that helps regulate your temperature, as soon as we are standing still, like in a traffic jam, or queue, the black jackets and trousers simply absorb heat. It was fucking hot, like red hot fire pokers sticking in your eyeballs hot! It took us around 4 hours riding to get to Tequila and once we had navigated the bustling streets to find the town centre, we pulled up in the side of the main street to grab a coke and get our bearings. We needed a hotel for the night, and we are still trying desperately to stick to a budget of around US $50 each per day, so a hotel needs to come in cheaper than that for us to ensure that food, fuel, and beers are covered. It appears to be getting cheaper as we travel south, but I am sure that some of the tourist spots, like I assume the town of Tequila is, will still be a bit pricey. Jorik found a hotel for about US$80 for the night and we thought, rather than go from 1 place to the next, let’s just try it out. The place was called the Hotel Colonial and was about 2 minutes’ walk from the main town square, or Plaza Principal. So not a bad location, and it ended up costing us MXN$500 for a twin room for the night. We even manged to get some laundry taken care of by the Senora that was looking after the place. She wasn’t very chatty, but she was happy to take the laundry and do it for us. So having gotten ourselves settled into the hotel, we wanted to find out about a tour of a local distillery, and check out the town. It was already getting relatively late in the afternoon after spending a fair amount of the day riding in the ridiculous heat, and once we got our bearings in the town and found the Jose Cuervo Distillery, it was too late to take the last tour of the day, which was at 5pm. The next tour was at 11:00 the next morning, so it looked like we would have to wait. We went into the town square, grabbed a Tequila drink in earthen mugs that they sell in the various stalls around the town centre for about MXN$100 (you get to keep the mug. We saw some crazy acrobatic shit from these 4 guys that climbed a pole that must be at least 100 feet and was located in the square (Danza de los Voladores – Dance of the Flyers). They then drop off the top of the pole, upside down, and swing back down to the ground. Bonkers, but cool to watch. We grabbed some dinner at a very colourful restaurant where they gave us bingo cards, which of course we had no idea what they were, until 1 of the servers started calling out the names of the pictures on the cards and the other people in the restaurant started covering up the pictures with seeds or nuts. I suppose it something to pass the time in the restaurant and most people seemed to get involved, but we were to slow of the mark to realise what it was all about. After dinner, it was back to hotel for a relatively early night as we were knackered, and whilst glad to be in the town of Tequila, we hadn’t really done much tequila related stuff. We wanted to do the tour in the morning, which would mean a late start and we still wanted to get some miles in for the day.

Day 14 - La ReDonda Hostel, Sayulita

The hostel provided breakfast, which was a healthy pancake and a banana, more than we have had at some places. The plan was to take it easy for the day and enjoy the time off, the great weather, and the opportunity to take some of the load off. The key thing to do in Sayulita is clearly surfing and we considered renting boards for the day to see how we would get on. We had seen a couple of the other hostel guests come back with jellyfish stings, sea urchin spines in their feet, and one or 2 were just a bit banged up, not to mention the sun burn. Maybe surfing wasn’t such a good idea for us old boys then. So, with no real plan for the day, we spent time on the beach, walked around town, had a couple of beers and took the day as it came. A pretty chilled out day. Whilst we didn’t end up having a surf, we did spent a lot of time in the beautiful water, and the gold flakes still freaked me out, it was just incredible. Having done a little research, the gold flakes are apparently from a mineral called ‘mica’ which washes into the sea from the nearby mountains and then gets washed up onto the beach at Sayulita and along the stretch of coastline. Pretty special thing to see. That afternoon, we made damn sure we were well positioned for the sunset, which was just glorious. Following an amazing sunset, we needed food and as we were back on the bikes again the next day heading for the town of Tequila, we had an early night to ensure we were well ready for the ride the next day.

Day 13 - Stoner’s Surf Camp, San Blas

It was fantastic to wake up on the beach, a nice start to the day. The beds in the cabin came with mosquito nets, always an ominous sign for someone that has had malaria twice, not once, twice! I was good, but Jorik seemed to have taken a bit of action during the night. We got sorted out and ready to leave following a quick breakfast in Stoner’s Surf Camp. Day 13 wasn’t to be too long, a few hours in the saddle, and we wanted to stop to get some drone footage of the beautiful landscapes and great riding, and we would arrive in a small town called Sayulita. Jorik had been before and said it was going to be a great spot to chill, so we had a rest day in the bag for the following day. Following some awesome riding, great twisty roads and just incredible scenery. There were even a few signs to watch out for wildlife, which was pretty cool.

We pulled into Sayulita around 4pm, after a couple wrong turns, one of which nearly ended us up on the beach, we pulled up in front of a bar. It was cerveza time, and I was thirsty. The bar tender spoke some English and was super impressed with the bikes. He told us about a hostel down the street for mxn300 a night. The cost of things has definitely gone down the further south we travel. Beers were about mxn50 and the food looked pretty reasonable in some nice spots. Sayulita was already turning out to be an awesome town. Settled into our dormitory in the hostel, the Le raDonda (https://www.laredondasayulita.com/), we headed down to the beach for a swim in what looked like paradise. Walking along the beach, the sand appeared to have gold flakes in it. Walking into the water the gold flakes dance around your feet, it’s mental. The bay offers some incredible surfing and loads of people in the hostel were there just for the surfing. A few others were there for the fantastic vibe that Sayulita gives off, just an awesome town. Having a rest day the following day meant we could get a little loose that evening. The “young people” in the hostel said that the sun set at 7:30pm, and that it was unmissable. We had just got back from showering and getting ready to head out for dinner and a Pacifico or 2, so we headed down to the beach. With no beers in hand, we jumped into a shop, but the queue was ridiculous. Poor planning on our part, but we rushed off to catch the experience. We missed it, just by 5 minutes or so, but we missed it. It was still spectacular, but we fucking missed the actual sunset, damn!

From the disappointment of seeing something so beautiful, but not quite getting to the point where you really feel satisfied, I was glad we had the next evening to ensure we didn’t miss out. We needed food, and as we had not managed to secure any beers for the sunset (that we missed), we need a Pacifico. Walking through the town is just great, loads of colours and a really vibrant place. It seems that the most popular area is around 3 square blocks. Completely walkable, but as much of it is cobbled, it was tougher to navigate in poorer visibility conditions. We had some great tacos at a street side stand, where we were served by a guy called Alxis (or something like that), a couple of Pacifico’s and then headed back to where we had seen a big inflatable screen on the beach. They were showing short independent films of about 20 to 30 minutes in length. A very cool hour or so was spent watching the films and then we headed back to the Hostel. As we were leaving the beach, a little wiper snapper Mexican Jack Russel mutt, slipped out of nowhere snapping at Jorik’s heals. Jorik freaked out and was jumping up and down, twisting around trying to avoid the little buggers snapping jaws, but it got him on the foot. Little bastard. As an observer of this episode, I did laugh. Sorry, I have to admit, I thought it was funny as shit! However, the little runt drew blood. We got back to the Hostel, cleaned up the wound with our first aid kit, and then spent the evening at the Hostel. I’m just going to say that we had an entertaining evening and leave it that.

Day 12 - Mazatlan Ferry Port

After a night of what felt like some evil torture, I got up to find some coffee whilst Jorik was easing out the pain in his hip and his knee. It had gotten chilly in the night, so I had put my socks and riding trousers back on and with my berkies in full swing, I went down to the canteen area to find some coffee. The canteen was heaving and I made my way to the back of the queue, I actually felt that the crappy coffee that I have had so far, no offense but I kind of like straight up instant coffee, sorry! Looking at the queue I decided it wasn’t worth it. Back up in the chamber of horror, Jorik was packing up his stuff. The sun was up, and so we made our way on to the deck to watch the ferry come into the harbour. We bumped into Saq on the way up, who we hadn’t met on the Ferry. The night before had been spent trying to find a comfortable way to sleep in quite possibly the most uncomfortable airplane seat you have ever sat in, in a room with a bunch of snoring people for about 13 hours. It was bollox. The approach to Mazatlan was pretty cool. Some pretty impressive landscapes, but nothing spectacular, it was a ferry port after all. As our bikes were down in the darkest pits of the ferry, we knew we would have to wait some time until we had the opportunity to unload. But we headed back to our seats to grab our gear and join the 100 + people who had to get off this ferry trip from hell, not to mention all the trucks and cars, and our bikes would probably be last.

We did get unloaded and off the ferry, it took a while, but we made a plan to catch up with Saq for some food before heading south for a place called San Blas. We were going to take the longer route as it didn’t include toll roads. Saq said he would hang around for a bit and them maybe join us down there later. We exchanged details, and hit the road, our first ride in mainland Mexico to a place we have no idea about. It was pretty cool actually. Loads of twisty roads and great views. A few longer sections that were a bit mundane and it was hot as balls. The temperature whilst travelling during the day definitely is something to behold. I must give the guys at Fly Racing (https://www.flyracing.com/) another plug. Your gear rocks. The vent system on the jacket is next level. Way better than what I had for my gear on the Africa trip, and that shit got hot! Very nicely done. The vents on the trousers really kick in when you stand up on the footpegs whilst moving. It is great to cool the legs down, which is not pleasant, particularly when taking off one’s boots at the end of a long day in the saddle. Thanks guys, you are awesome.

Coming into San Blas, our plan was to hit a bar on the beachfront, grab a cold Pacifico, and then ask where we could find a cheap place for the night. We didn’t need or want anything too expensive. The ride into the town was great, beautiful buildings and courtyards, but the cobbled streets were a bit hairy on the bikes. We pulled right up to the beachfront, in fact we rode over the edge of the road, across the pedestrian area, and into a plaza type arrangement. I was pretty knackered and parked the bike and was ready to get off and grab a beer. A bunch of police/security people come over and politely told us to remove ourselves from the area. Back on the road, the next place along was clearly a bar, so we bumped the kerb there and parked up right out front. They were more than happy to see us, and we grabbed a beer and took in what was a very nice set up. A little fishing hut kind of thing, but very cool. We got chatting with a few local guys who are sport fisherman, amongst other things. Alex, who owns a hardware store, and sport fishing business, and Ignacio, who owns a tackle shop, and sports fishing business. Alex kindly got us a couple of beers, but before we opened them, he put some salt on the top, and then the lime juice straight into the beer. Very nicely done, and thanks for the beers. We saw off the local businessmen, both in what looked like pretty new Mercedes Benz cars. I suppose the sports fishing business is good in San Blas. We had been advised that we could get a cabin on the beach for about mxn350 for the night, nothing fancy, but on the beach. It was the 6th shack after the turn into the sketchy part of town and called Stoner’s Surf Camp. We pulled up and the Senora at the front desk suggested that it was going to be mxn900 for the night for both of us. We agreed on mxn800 and had to wait for the cabins to be cleaned, which I suppose was a plus, but they were on the beach so that shit is getting sandy. Firmly settled in our rickety cabin that moved all the time, we popped down to the beach for a swim. The place is spot on, and just the sort of thing I was hoping to experience on the trip, definitely a win for me. Saq had been in touch and asked to meet up with us. We dropped him a pin and when he arrived, he was only there for about 20 minutes, he decided that this was not his scene, and he needed a proper hotel. We agreed to grab some food and as we had showered in the pretty basic facilities and were thinking about our stomachs, we jumped on the bikes in shorts and flip flops and rode into the town for dinner. The evenings conversation got a little controversial and after what might have been a sign when water started pissing out of a drain all over Saq’s very nice bike, we decided to call it a night and head back to our cabin on the beach before it got too dark. It was a fine evening, but something important happened. We decided on names for the girls, proper names, not the “stand-in names” that we had initially given them. My bike is now called Cassy, after Cazadores Tequila, and Jorik’s bike is called Julia, after her grandfather, Don Julio (but that’s for Jorik to embellish on the back story), we will call her Jules!

Day 11 - Baja Club, La Paz

The ferry was due to depart at 7pm, but we had been informed that we would need to be at the port at least 4 hours early to pick up the tickets and pass through customs. There was no need to get up early and rush about to get on the road and we had a lazy morning packing up our gear and catching up on admin stuff. The hotel booking included breakfast, which was really just some fruit and yoghurt with a very tasty banana bread muffin effort. Nothing substantial, but still very tasty. We needed to be out of the room by 12:00, but the hotel reception said it would be fine if we camped out in their dining room (in the cool air) and waited until we wanted to depart for the port at around 02:30pm. So, we went for a walk around the town, particularly along the beachfront, and then set up all our stuff in the corner of the inside dining area for a couple of hours. There was a wedding at the hotel so there were photos being taken all around us, with our gear laid out on the tables and our helmets/cameras/laptops plugged in charging, with crap everywhere. They didn’t seem to mind and no one asked us to clear out so we just carried on whilst all of the hustle and bustle of the brides photos were going on. Sorry for you!

1 of the security guards, Migual, had been keeping an eye on the bikes for us whilst we were staying at the hotel. They didn’t have a dedicated parking area and we were uncomfortable leaving the bikes out of eye shot, but Migual was great and organised the first opportunity for us to grab the on-street parking spaces directly in front of the hotel. As such, whilst we were waiting at the hotel to depart for the ferry port, Migual come into us to say that there was something going on with the bikes. We couldn’t quite understand him, but it sounded like someone was blocking the bikes. A bit confused, we both went out to see what the fuss was about. When we got there, there was another RE Himalayan parked up behind us. It was on a local registration and bit older than ours, but straight up RE Himalayan. We were stoked and explained to Migual that this was not a problem, in fact we were keen to meet whoever owned the bike. At which point a young lad in his 20s stood up who was sitting off a distance and strolled over to say hi. I think he said his name was Rigo, but we were to call him Roy. He was from Oaxaca and had done some travelling on his bike. We spent about 10 minutes chatting with Roy and then went back into the hotel as we only had about 30 minutes until we needed to get packed up and to make our way across to the port. I quickly noticed that the GoPro that I had plugged in to charge, was no longer there. The cable charger, my phone, laptop and everything else of Jorik’s was still there and hadn’t been touched, just the GoPro camera was gone. There had been a young lad of about 7 or maybe 8 years old who had been hanging around us asking questions about all the gear, including the GoPro cameras earlier. He was a very polite kid, and his English was pretty good. I gave him a sticker as I liked his enthusiasm about our trip, and whilst we had been outside chatting with Roy, I knew he was in the hotel as he had been running in and out. I asked the bar staff, who were in the same room as our table, if they had seen anyone hanging around our stuff and they were reluctant to commit to having seen anyone, but when I mentioned that the kid had been interested, they kindly offered to talk to his mother and ask if he had seen it. The mother came over to us and explained that she had asked her son and he had definitely not taken it. I was polite in my response and said that I didn’t want to accuse the lighty of taking the camera straight up, and if he said he didn’t take it, then fine, we would keep looking and see if it turned up. She explained that they were leaving and that she hoped we found it. What you ganna do? About 10 minutes later she came back with the little fella in tow, and explained that whilst they were packing the car, they had found the GoPro and he had taken it. She was almost in tears, she was so embarrassed, but the little kid didn’t seem to show too much remorse. I think he was pissed that he had been caught out. I gave him another sticker, kids love stickers, and the problem was resolved. No harsh words or raised voices, we were just glad to have the camera back particularly as my GoPro mini wasn’t working very well and we wanted to have the other back up camera.

All packed up and settled up at the hotel, we rode out to the ferry port from the Baja Club. We had been told that the ferry crossing would be less than luxurious and that as we didn’t have a cabin, we would be allocated a chair in a communal room with a massive TV that played Spanish Movies all night. Not an ideal prospect, but needs must, and this ferry gets us to mainland Mexico, the next leg of our journey, so we would have to suck it up and get through the ordeal. Arriving at the port, we were made to wait for around 30 minutes for them to check our bags and our panniers. They didn’t do a particularly thorough check, but it was a pain in the ass as we have all our stuff packed away neatly and had to pull it off the bikes. Having made it through customs, we needed to get our tickets sorted out. However, there were no signs explaining the process, and the Mexican police were not the most forthcoming with information. A chap with a Honda CBR600 on the back of his pickup truck, explained that we needed a ticket, and I was sure he said we had to go over to a separate office first before we went to the ticket office. However, we pulled up at the ticket office to ask what we should do but joined the back of a queue with a load of truck drivers. I noticed that they all had a different ticket/receipt to the ones that we had and when I asked a local guy, I think he said that their receipts were because they were taking trucks on the ferry that needed to be weighed and measured. As the bikes are so small, we didn’t think we needed to do this. However, once we eventually got into the ticket office, sure enough, we needed a receipt from the weigh station for our bikes. We headed over and sorted out the bikes, with another charge of mxn120 for each bike, and then went back to the ticket office. This all took around an hour to process and in the blistering sun and was not an ideal experience. Having got the paperwork sorted, we were sent on our way to get on the ferry. There were at least 3 ferries in the port at the time and absolutely no direction as to which ferry we were supposed to get on. A bunch of Harleys had pulled up to the port as well and they had all headed over to the very first ferry and parked up under a shaded canopy to wait for boarding. We had no idea where they were heading, but whilst moving towards them, a member of staff from the port waved us over and pointed to the next ferry along, or at least the fact that it wasn’t going to be the ferry that we were aiming for. As we rode towards the next ferry, 1 of the Harley riders pulled us over and asked which ferry they should be getting if they were heading to Mazatlan, just like us. I explained that I had no idea, but it wasn’t the ferry that they were lined up for. 

We did eventually find the right ferry, which as it would happen was the third ferry in the port, of course! We found a spot to park up in the shade and got off the bikes to wait for our chance to board. As I was getting off the bike, I noticed a really nice Yamaha Tenere 700 parked off to the side with all the kit on for overlanding. I walked over to have a look and we met a Pakistani American chap called Saq. He lives in Cancun and is travelling from LA to Puerto Vallarta to ship his bike the rest of the way to Cancun. He was a very chatty fella, had lots of opinions on just about everything, and we swapped a few stories about bike trips and took a few photos.

Getting on the ferry took hours and when we did eventually get called to board, they put us down in the very lowest hold they had. A ramp had been opened up to take us down from the main deck that we arrived on and I had the ominous feeling that it might take some time to get off the ferry, particularly if it is full and the main deck gets loaded up with vehicles. With the bikes loaded and strapped down, we grabbed our gear and headed up to find our allocated seats, where we would spend the next 13-14 hours. Hauling all our crap up the narrow stairs and into the communal cabin was pretty tiring, particularly after spending so long waiting around to actually get loaded on to the ferry, but we did eventually find our allocated seats, which bizarrely where seats 14 and 15, but not next to each other. Hoping that no one would set next to us, we immediately commandeered the adjacent seat(s) to put our helmets, bags, boots, riding trousers, etc on as there was very limited space. Whilst Jorik didn’t have anyone sit next to him, a chap who must have boarded the ferry later, or was hanging out somewhere else, came and sat in the chair next to me after we had already been on the go for about an hour.

Dinner was served on the Ferry, and we had a chicken dish, which wasn’t too bad. I just hopped it didn’t cause any stomach problems as having the shits on the boat might not be ideal.

We had been warned that the TV might be on all night showing films dubbed into Spanish, and that the light may remain on for the entire crossing. Sure enough, there was a massive TV at the front of the communal cabin that was on, but there were only about 3 films shown before someone turned it off at around 11pm, and thankfully turned off the cabin light at the same time. Neither of us managed much sleep, and Jorik did brave the concept of lying flat on the hard floor to try to get some sleep for a few hours, but we were generally confined to the allocated seat to sleep in. It is fair to say that I was a grouchy bastard the next morning and keen to just get off the ferry and get going again.

Day 10 - Mayan Monkey, Cabo San Lucas

The plan was to travel back to La Paz today as we have arranged to get the ferry from Pichilingue to Mazatlan, which is an overnight ferry. Jorik’s sister and her fella have very kindly offered to pay for a nice hotel in La Paz for the night, so we have all day to travel back up towards La Paz. We wanted to hug the south and eastern coast on the way up, and whilst there is a road that runs that route, the more direct route along the highway is ultimately what we opted for as it is hot as balls whilst on the bikes. So with our plan in place, we packed up our stuff, collected the bikes and headed out of Cabo San Lucas. The ride was only expected to be around 4-hours so it should have been an easy day. Getting out of Cabo and heading north wasn’t the most spectacular ride, a lot of highways so parts of it were pretty boring. We planned a little detour from the main highway to a place called Cabo Pulmo. However, once we turned off Highway 1, the road and landscape was not that appealing so we pulled up in a town called La Ribera. We wanted to head for the beach, where we assumed we would find a little beach bar, or a restaurant to grab and drink and take in the scenery. The sat nav kept pushing us south, but along sand tracks, rather than actual roads. After debating the sense in riding in the soft stuff again, particularly following Jorik’s off whilst riding down to Papa Fernadez. As it happened, Jorik had another off in the sand, not too bad and no damage to him or the bike, but that is 2 – 0 for Jorik on the trip so far.

Having picked himself and the bike up, we decided that it was just too hot and we were too knackered to push on for Cabo Pulmo, specially as we simply have to turn around and ride the same road back to Highway 1 before turning north again towards La Paz. So, we stopped at a gas station, grabbed a couple of cokes and cooled off for a bit and then made our way back to the more direct route. It turned out to be a long ride and really took it out of us. We were longing for a cold beer, a swim in the hotel pool and the opportunity to get off the bikes. As we were riding into La Paz, less than 20 minutes from the hotel and with the cold beers calling us, Jorik’s bike got a puncture from a large nail that pierced his tire and shredded the inner tube. Properly screwed it up. No amount of Air-Seal would help the situation. Whilst it was not an ideal situation, particularly on the side of a major highway after a full day’s riding when we were hot and sweaty, but we pulled the tools out, took the rear wheel off and got busy sorting the problem. It didn’t take us more than about 30 minutes to get the tube swapped out for a brand new spare tube that we had with us, but once we had got everything sorted, we put the portable pump we have on and set it to the correct PSI reading, 34 for the rear tire with a pillion, which is about right for the extra weight and the fact that we are not expecting any soft sand for a while. However, the tire wouldn’t inflate beyond around 5PSI, no matter what we tried. Whilst we were frustrated by the lack of response from the pump, which could have been because we had pinched the new tube whilst levering the tire back on to the rim, or the pump was just not working properly, an Irish chap on a F800 BMW pulled over to check on us. Fergus was his name and he was very friendly and wanted to check if he could help with anything. We had a brief chat but were still hoping the pump would kick in and the tire would inflate. There wasn’t much he could do, so he jumped back on his bike and continued his journey back down to Cabo San Lucas, where he worked. The police stopped a couple of times to check on us, but again, there wasn’t much they could do. After about 30 more minutes, we decided that we re-fit the tire and slowly, very slowly, ride down to the next gas station where we could use their compressor to pump the tire up. It wasn’t far, only about 5 minutes, but not an ideal situation as there is every chance the tire could completely collapse, screw the tube up (even if it did get pinched), but more of a worry would be if the tire came off the rim and the rim hit the tarmac, which could drastically damage it. We made it, and immediately realised that the tube wasn’t holding pressure. So, whilst we were feeling positive about getting to our hotel and a cold beer a little over an hour before hand, we set about taking the rear wheel off again and changing out the tube for the 2nd time. Having done it once already, and now in the shade of the gas station with a full-strength compressor, it took us about 30 minutes to sort out the problem and then head for the hotel.

The sat nav took us right up to the beachfront where we pulled up outside the Baja Club, a very swanky hotel and again, a massive thanks to Dorit and Jeff for sorting us old boys out, particularly after a long day. Whilst it was a very generous offer, we thought that were joking when they told us it was a room with a single king bed. But sure enough, we must have scored the fucking honeymoon suite or some shit. It was a massive suite with a separate lounge, seating area, but only 1 massive king size bed. We asked if they could sort us a room with 2 beds, but the hotel was fully booked for a wedding the next day so we would have to bunk in together. Not ideal, but after sleeping in a tiny little tent in Papa Fernandez, I’d rather sleep in a massive bed.

We headed into the town for some dinner and a beer and took in the evening sights along the beachfront. The hotel is on the main drag, and it must be a thing that on Friday night’s everyone comes down with their tricked-out cars. There are loads of beetles around, many of which have been converted to the Baja Bug style which are super cool. There were a few bikes, but generally the people watching was pretty good.

Day 9 - Mayan Monkey, Cabo San Lucas

It was glorious to wake up and know that we had the day off from riding. Not that I mind the riding, but at our age, the full days that we have been putting in is definitely starting to take its toll on us. At a sensible hour of around 9am, we dragged ourselves out of bed and along to the free breakfast at the Mayan Monkey, which was pretty damn good, for a free breakfast. The day was ours and we planned to go down to the beach for a bit of a wander, maybe check out a few bars, and then get into a spot of trouble later in the evening. Walking along the marina, I couldn’t get my head around the number of huge fishing boats and yachts that are located in Cabo San Lucas. Assuming that some of these cost in excess of a million US dollars, and that might be cheap, there were simply shit loads of them, hundreds if not even a thousand, the amount of money in the marina alone must exceed the GDP of Baja. It is weird to see such opulence amongst a backdrop of the poverty that we have seen in other places in Baja, but I don’t suppose that it is only Baja that experiences this kind of shocking disparity.

Having picked my jaw up from looking at the awesome fishing boats, we went down to the nearby beach, about 10 minutes’ walk from the hotel. We had a swim and took in the beautiful surroundings. The water was glorious, and we chilled out for about an hour just taking it all in.

Following the swim, we headed back to the hotel to clean up and head into town for some lunch. On our way past the waterfront, we found a little shop offering free tequila tasting. Say no more, we popped in to get a lesson in the tequila making process. Tequila silver is not aged at all, tequila blanco is aged for up to 6 months, tequila repasodo is aged for around 3 years in oak barrels that have had Kentucky bourbon in them, which gives it a slight colouring, tequila anjeno has been aged for over 3 years in wine barrels, which is even darker and smoother, and extra anjeno has been aged for even longer, sometimes in barrels containing cherries, which is the darkest, most expensive and tastiest tequila out there. I thought I knew much of what there is to know when it comes to tequila, but it was good to get the lesson, and the free tequila tasting. We tipped the young lady that was serving us about $2 and decided to head down the waterfront to find a restaurant for lunch. We stopped at a placed called WTF, right on the water, which was great to not only look at the boats, but people watch. Plenty of tourists hang about in Cabo so there was loads to see. We met an interesting fisherman, come hustler, who was very interested to hear that we are South Africans. He mentioned that they don’t really get many South Africans in Cabo, mostly Americans and Europeans, but not many saffas. I suppose this is a bit of a far-flung place for us japies to make it to.

Following lunch, we headed on to the main beach, where a lot of resorts and bars are set up with great views of the ocean and the golden sands. We had a few more dips in the sea and walked past some pretty wild bars that were hosting drinking games for young Americans, spring break style. Not really our vibe, but we certainly have been there before, so it was fun to watch, for a bit. After an hour or 2, we started the walk back to the hotel to get cleaned up for the evening and to head into town. We stopped at another free tequila tasting bar, where Paublo took us through the tequila making process, again. We let him talk us through it in order to get a taste of each of the tequila types again, but when we asked how much a bottle would be, he suggested a repasado tequila that cost $110 (American, not pesos). There was no way we were going to pay that, so we purchased a couple of beers from him and then tipped him like $5 and pressed on to the hotel, buoyed by the extra tequila and a few more beers. The little mini market below the hotel closed at 6pm and we arrived back at around 6:15. Luckily, they were still open so we managed to pick up a bottle of tequila for about 900 pesos, much cheaper than at Paublo’s tequila shop, and some water and then went up to the Mayan Monkey bar for a couple more beers and to get changed before heading out for the evening. Jorik did a ceviche cooking class, which the hotel put on for free, and I chilled out by the pool for a bit as fish is not my thing, being allergic to shellfish, I avoid all fish at all costs. I suppose that is my loss, but then if you don’t eat any fish, you don’t really know what you are missing.

Back in town, we bumped into a group of young kids, around 16/17 years old who were hanging out in the free tequila tasting bar that we had been in earlier in the day. I have no idea why, but we be got talking to them and have enlisted them into the Enfields Overland fold by asking them to promote the trip on social media, something I am sure they understand much better than us old geezers. We even managed to get some footage of the experience, although I do come across as being a little pissed. Having had a big (and expensive lunch), and Jorik had managed to have some ceviche, we didn’t feel the need to spend more money on an expensive dinner, so we had a few more beers, met a few more people and dished out our Enfields Overland business cards to just about anyone that would listen to us and take a card. As I am quite the stickler for details, I have been keeping a pretty accurate record of our expenses to date, but after the antics from the previous night, I found that it is difficult to keep up with our casual expenses. Jorik suggested that we take a limited amount of money out with us and then just see how much is left the next morning to account for our expenditure. As such, we only had mxn1,000 on us and in the last bar we went to, where we chatting with 2 American couples, we ordered our last beers of the evening and realised that we didn’t have enough money to pay for the beers. Thankfully, the Americans picked up the beers for us, which actually left us with mxn50 at the end of the night. We then stumbled back to the hotel and with the best intentions of having a few more beers in the hotel bar, ended up crashing and hitting the sack at about 11pm.

Day 8 - Hotel Isabela, San Carlos

We arranged for breakfast at 08:00 so we could be on the road with a plenty of time to get us to the Port in Pichilingue to ensure we have the correct paperwork and book on the ferry that will take us from Baja to Mazatlan in mainland Mexico. The sat nav suggested that it would be around 3 or 3.5 hours to get there. It was a bit longer than that in real time, but we pushed through the miles and with very painful backsides, we arrived in La Paz to stop for fuel and get clear directions to the Port. We had been passed by a couple of lads on BMW bikes about an hour outside of La Paz and whilst they were travelling much faster than us, we caught up to them as they were riding along at the speed limit behind a couple of coppers. We stuck with them for the remainder of the ride into La Paz. However, as we were looking for a turn off to Pichilingue and a fuel station, there was some pretty involved highway works that caused us to take a detour and we separated from the other bikers, which we kind felt we had connected with as we had just ridden together for about an hour.  Jorik and I did a bit of a dodgy move in that we rode through the highway works in the wrong direction and took a more direct route to get back on track. As such, we had passed the road works, stopped to refuel and were taking a break when the 2 riders pulled up at a traffic light right in front of the fuel station. I was just coming out of the el baneo when I saw them and noticed that whilst Jorik was waving to them, they didn’t seem to acknowledge him. It wasn’t like they couldn’t see the bikes and Jorik, but maybe they just weren’t that friendly. Anyway, we pressed on to the Port. There were road works and renovations happening all along the frontage of the Port, so we pulled in where we expected we could find some parking and make our way to an office to chat to someone about getting booked on. Whilst we had all the necessary paperwork for the bikes, which we sorted out when we crossed into Mexico from the States at San Ysidro, Jorik did not have a temporary visa for Mexico. I did have the paperwork, and we just assumed that as he is travelling on an American passport, he might not need a temporary visa. We needn’t have worried as the chap we spoke to at immigration said that we really just needed the paperwork for the bikes, which we had and that we should be fine. So having got the confirmation regarding the paperwork, we headed off for the ticket office. A very helpful young lady sorted everything out for us as the people behind the counter didn’t speak any English and we are still getting by on the extremely little and broken Spanish that we have. Unfortunately, there were no cabins available and from what we have read online, we might be in for a night in a communal area with the Spanish TV turned up to full volume. Great, I can’t wait. We were informed that we need to be at the port at 3pm for a 7pm departure, bonkers, and that we need to ensure that we have at least 2 straps per bike to tie them down once in the ferry hold. That shouldn’t be a problem and we felt confident that we have everything sorted to make the crossing to mainland Mexico.

Having sorted out our ferry situation, we still needed to travel further south to Cabo San Lucas and our hotel booking for the evening. Considering that we had already travelled a fair distance for the day, and the delay caused by the highway works and sorting out the ferry tickets, meant that it was well into the afternoon already and we still had a relatively big ride in front of us. As such, we were aiming for a town called Todos Santos, which is supposed to be a great town for surfing and arty. The town was pretty much on the main highway, so it wasn’t much of a detour from our route and why not check it out. We pulled off the main highway and started into the town at around 4pm. It was hot, we were both knackered, but we knew it was only about an hour to Cabo San Lucas from Todos Santos so a quick beer and bit of a relax was definitely in order. We stopped in the main drag of the town, which was fantastic. Beautiful buildings, bright colours, and bunting were all evident, but we thought that there must be a little beach bar that we could stop at rather than along the main drag in town. So, we plugged in a location to the sat nav that appeared to show a road to the beachfront, and a little spot called Margarita Casitas, which at face value sounded like the perfect spot. After about 30 minutes of riding around in circles and getting more and more frustrated, I lost my shit and we decided that it would just be better to go into town and stop there. However, we thought we would take 1 last dirt track to see if we could find something. We passed an American couple who appeared to be walking back from the beach along the dirt track. They informed us that whilst the beach was pristine, there was nothing along the beachfront. No bars, restaurants, or even accommodation opportunities. That was it for me, we were definitely turning around and heading back to the town for a drink. We ended up parking right where we stopped the first time to take stock, but it was fine, and we ended up chatting to a few people as the bikes were attracting attention whilst pulled up on the sidewalk.

Having adequately hydrated, we had the final hour to go until we would be at our hotel and with a day off the following day, we were really looking forward to a few beers and finally smashing a few shots of tequila. I have always held a little fascination about Cabo San Lucas as it is one of those places that you often see on American TV shows or in movies where people go for luxurious holidays. I was expecting big things, but on the approached to the town, I was a little disappointed to see it was maybe not the stunning resort destination that I was expecting. It was very pretty, but we came into town along some really crappy roads through areas that were pretty run down and neglected. We found our hotel in relatively good time, but quickly realised that there was no parking for the bikes and that we would have to pay for the bikes to parked in a nearby open-air car park. Not ideal, but as we would have to pay, we had to assume that there would be an attendant 24/7, so the bikes should be as safe as we could hope for.

We got checked in to the Mayan Monkey, which was pretty cool. More of a hostel than a hotel, but that suited us. After a quick swim and a few libations, we headed down to the beachfront to check out the town. It is a pretty mad place, a bit like I imagine Cancun would be with hustlers on the streets trying to sell you pretty much anything they can. Fair play, but I wasn’t really expecting it. We walked down to the beach along what appeared to be the main drag with resorts and bars right up against the sand. Some of it was really cheesy, with Americans competing in drinking games, which created a spring break type vibe. Again, not exactly what I was expecting, but I suppose that is the kind of thing that the youngsters want to do. I know, I have been there in Hermanus and Plett when we were coming up. On the way back to the hostel, we grabbed a couple of cold Pacifico’s and a bottle of Cazadores tequila, just to keep us ticking over. We like to take a shot once we complete the days riding, and the hip flasks were empty by this stage so needed topping up.

Back at the hostel, we got cleaned up for a night on the tiles in Cabo and headed out into the bright lights. We stopped at a few spots for beers and tequilas and ended up having dinner at a roadside place called Tony’s Tacos. Bloody marvellous tacos, the best to date. Sitting right on the street, we had the chance to really feel the vibrance of the town and being off the main drag where all the tourist hotels and bars are located, gave it a much more authentic feeling. Pretty cool spot in the end and Tony is currently leading the Taco championships! Following our culinary experience at Tony’s Tacos, and still knackered from the long day, we didn’t stay up too late and were asleep by about 11pm after a few beers and some pool back at the Mayan Monkey. 

Day 7 - Hotel Hacienda, Mulege

We needed to get to La Paz, well actually the port to the north of La Paz called Pichilingue, which is about 20 minutes ride further north. However, google maps was suggesting that the ride time from Mulege to the port was around 6 hours, and as we have a little bit of time in hand from the original planning, probably because we are smashing it in terms of distance covered each day, we found a little place called San Carlos back on the western coast, which the map suggested was about 4 and half hours from Mulege and a little but further south, closer to the port. So, we were aiming for a reasonable day in the saddle to get to the little fishing village of San Carlos. As such, we were able to take our time packing up and we only left the hotel at 10:00 to stop in the town for breakfast, which was absolutely awesome. We hit the road at about 10:30 and were heading south along the east coast for our first stop in a town called Loreto. The coast road was absolutely fantastic with beautiful coves and beaches dotted along the way. Great twisty roads and the colours of the sea were spectacular. Unfortunately, the insta360 camera wasn’t playing ball so we missed an opportunity to get some footage of the ride, which has by far been the highlight of the trip so far. We did stop and take a couple of pictures, so it wasn’t a total bust.

We pulled into Loreto around midday’ish and stopped in a beachfront bar for a break. The bikers that we saw the day before that are riding 2-up were having lunch in the same spot and whilst they acknowledged us and said hello, they were not very forthcoming, and we ended up speaking with a Canadian couple who were very interested in the trip. A nice little town and a shame that we don’t have more time to spend chilling out, but the journey requires that we press on for San Carlos.

From Loreto, the ride to San Carlos took us back across the width of Baja to the western coast. We have criss-crossed the peninsula a number of times now. The ride through the interior was not very eventful, other than plenty of hours sitting on very straight roads passing through great scenery, but pretty much the same for hours on end. We came close to running out of fuel along the route, albeit we did still have a slight safety net in the jerry cans. I think we have about 30 miles range in the reserve tank, and I ran to about 28 miles, so pretty close to running out, but we found a fuel station in time to avoid it.

The road to San Carlos was a long, relatively straight stretch from the main road, Highway 1. We were aiming for a place called Hotel Isabela, which we had found on trip advisor for $50 for a room with 2 king size beds and a fold out sleeper coach. That is a pretty good deal for the places we have seen to date. We appreciated that we might not be getting a 5-star location in San Carlos as it is really off the beaten track. There is 1 road from the main highway that is about 40 miles long, which took us about 45 minutes to navigate [Jorik hated that road!]. Riding into the town, it quickly become clear that San Carlos is not the most affluent part of Baja. In fact, much of the town reminded me of a township in Cape Town called Khayelitsha, with shacks made out of scrap metal and bits of left over wood, stray dogs running around, and nipping at our heals, and just a general sense of decay and neglect. We both started to feel a little uncomfortable about where we were headed and that maybe Hotel Isabela would not be such a good choice for us ‘Gringos’. When we pulled up, we were relatively surprised by the hotel. It was clean, the rooms were very spacious, and they allowed us to park the bikes within the gated compound. There were 2 very lovely ladies running the place. They were very welcoming and cooked us up a great meal of chicken and salad as well as ensuring that we remained supplied with Pacifico’s for the evening. After dinner, we took a walk along the beachfront, which is not great, but we did witness a spectacular sun set. Back at the hotel, we did a little more research into where we will be heading as tomorrow, we plan to be in Cabo San Lucas followed by a welcomed day off the bikes. Jorik has kindly fronted the cost of the accommodation in Cabo San Lucas as our efforts to the try blag a room in a swanky hotel failed. As such, we will be staying in the Mayan Monkey, we just have to get there now.  

Day 6 - Papa Fernandez, Somewhere along the east coast of Baja

Jorik was up with the first light at around 05:30 and I heard the drone being fired up for some footage from my sleeping bag. We dragged our creaking bones out of the tent and the day looked like it was going to be spectacular. No concerns about poor weather for the day, but our fuel situation was dire. Betty was already on reserve and Gurtrude wasn’t far off. The old boys that we had met the afternoon before had mentioned that there was a market about 3km’s from the turn off to Papa Fernandez on the main road and that fuel shouldn’t be a problem for our range of about 200 miles (including jerry cans) all the way down to Cabo San Lucas. So, feeling a little apprehensive, we packed up and got ready to head down the 1 mile track back to the main road. Having already had some trouble getting into the campsite the afternoon before, the short ride promised to be a bit of a challenge for us, and well worthy of some drone footage. Jorik got the drone sorted to follow us as we headed out, which it did, for the first few metres over the hill towards the main settlement. However, when we stopped to check how it was doing, whilst it was hovering right above us, the camera hadn’t tracked us. Jorik is still getting used to the settings on the drone, so he made some adjustments, and we got ready to tackle the rest of the dirt track. We pressed on and whilst concentrating on the terrain, didn’t think to check on the drone until we reached the Highway. Needless to say, when we pulled up, there was no sight of the drone. It had crashed into a tree and Jorik could tell from the camera that it was on the ground somewhere between the camp and the road. Fortunately, the drone has a ‘find me’ function so he could trace it back to where it had crashed. Due to my low fuel levels, I stayed at the road and Jorik braved the dirt track on his own to recover the drone. It was undamaged and he gathered it up and headed back to me. It took some time, and I did start to get worried that he might have come off again and needed help picking up his bike, but I had faith that he would be fine and after about 20 minutes, I heard the puttering of his bike come through the hills back to me.

Back on the road and heading south for our next destination, Mulege, we did indeed find the market and a fuel station about 3km’s down the road. Result! Tanks full, water bags full, we pressed south. For some reason my eyes were extremely heavy, and I was struggling to see properly. Whilst we hadn’t slept great, we did spend enough hours in our sleeping bags for me not to consider that I was exhausted, so I was not entirely sure why I was struggling to keep my eyes open. Every time I took some water, I seemed to get clear vision for about a minute and then my eyes would get ridiculously heavy again. We had to pull over and I expressed my concern to Jorik that something wasn’t right. I took an anti-histamine tablet and hoped for the best, but asked Jorik to take the lead as I was really struggling to concentrate on the road. Whilst cruising along, it dawned on me that I hadn’t been drinking enough water and I suspected that I was actually dehydrated. I also hadn’t had a proper piss in a day or 2, so I started sucking on my water and finished it in no time. We had to pull over again so I could top up my water bag from 1 of the jerry cans, which by the way are shit. Not only have 2 brackets broken off, 1 on each of our bikes, but the spout that is supplied with the jerry can is about as useful as a chocolate tea pot. So having wasted a load of water in filling my water bag, we got ready to press on when 1 of the BWM riders that we used as a blocker coming out of LA in the heavy traffic, whizzed by us. Just the 1 mind you, I hope the other is alright, or maybe they were already ahead.

Our route took us back across Baja to the western coast towards Guerrero Negro. Parts of it being across desolate landscapes along straight roads. The roads are pretty good in general, but various sections have mad potholes that could easily put an end to our trip by smashing our shock absorbers. You really have to bring you’re A-game when riding and concentration is key at all times. I kept sucking away on my water and by the time we had cross Baja again and stopped at a roadside taco stand for some lunch, I was feeling much better. I even managed to take a welcomed pee, which gave me confidence that my water levels were returning to normal. Interestingly, Jorik hadn’t had the same problem and he put it done to my body being in shock due to the lack of beer, rather than a lack of water, prick!

The wind picked up as we neared the western coast, and we passed through some mild dust storms before heading back towards the eastern coast and our destination of Mulege. It was also a little chilly along the western coast and there was a fair bit of cloud cover. As we hit the central part of Baja and the mountains, the weather cleared up and the heat went up again. Thanks to our fantastic riding gear from the guys at Fly Racing, we were fine in the changing conditions. The mountains were great and as we approached the eastern coast, we passed through some gorgeous passes and twisty roads, ideal for biking. A couple of times it got a little hairy and I certainly had to grab a fistful of front brake to avoid a crash, but it was all good and gave us a sharp reminder to stay alert and read the situation with caution at all times.

We dropped down to a town called Santa Rosaria on the coast. Again, it looks a bit like a Mad Max movie in some of these locations, houses and buildings left to rot and rust away. We stopped in the town for a welcome break and as we only had about 1 hour left to travel to Mulege, we could afford to take in the scenery. We stopped next to another biker, who was riding a BMW touring bike 2 up. I would have expected that as 2 more bikers pulled up next to him, he would have had a chat to us, but as soon as we stopped, he got on his bike and pulled off, rude! Oh well, maybe they are not looking to meet other people and just want to do their own thing, but still a bit odd.

We arrived in Mulege in good time and whilst trying to find the hotel we were looking for, we pulled over in a little square in the centre of town to take stock and look at the map as the hotel wasn’t where we had though it would be. Whilst stopped, a jeep pulled up a very nice American couple had a chat with us as they were interested in the bikes. The told us that the Hotel Hacienda, which is what we were looking for, was just around the corner and a good hotel, cheap. That is our kind of hotel. They invited us to have dinner with them in their RV, but we wanted to just chill out and walk around the town to do our own thing so we politely declined. Once set up in a the hotel, we had a quick (very cold) swim in the pool and then headed out to explore the town. We had been advised by the Americans that Danny’s Tacos was the best place to eat, but we couldn’t find it so ended up going to a very nice hotel/restaurant for a couple of beers and dinner, which was very nice, albeit a little expensive, again! Having had some chow and a coupe of beers, we called it a night and were asleep by 09:30 after a long day.

Day 5 - Hotel Paraiso Las Palmas, Ensenada

Having plotted a route to our next destination – Papa Fernandez on the eastern coast of Baja, we got up with plenty of time to get ourselves organised. We had to change money from Dollars to Pesos, so we had some local currency, and grab some breakfast before getting on the road. We found a place to change money and were recommended a local restaurant across the street to get some chow. It was a great spot, heaving with customers, we got the last available table, and had a fantastic breakfast of omelettes, refired beans and tortillas. I think we caused quite a stir with the locals who probably don’t see too many ‘gringos’ in a local restaurant. But the food was great, and they were very welcoming.

We had left the majority of our gear at the hotel, so we didn’t have to worry about luggage on the bikes whilst we were changing money and eating, so after we finished up, we headed back to the hotel to finish packing the bikes and get going. After our morning coffee, we both needed to empty the tanks (if you know what I mean). Jorik went first and came out to me to say that the water wasn’t working, and he had been unable to flush the toilet. I suppose that is a typical occurrence in Mexico, but I still needed to go to the toilet. So, I brassed myself and did the job, but true enough, the water was still not working. We had filled our jerry cans with fuel and water to ensure we had enough to get us through some of the long stretches in Baja, and in case something went wrong, and we had to stay in the desert for any period, and we had about 2 litres of spare water. I tried to flush the toilet with the remaining water, but all I did was end up leaving carnage in the toilet. So, apologies to the staff at the hotel for leaving a war zone in the el baneo.

The road out of Ensenada towards the east was fantastic. Beautiful twisty mountain passes that were just spectacular. We simply had to stop to get some photos and sort a few things out. My fuel jerry can had been overfilled and was pissing fuel all over my boots, which meant there was every chance it might hit the hot engine of the bike. Not ideal! So, I emptied a little out whilst stopped. Whilst pulled over about 20 bikers came through on what must have been an organised tour, as most of the bikes were big BMWs with a support vehicle. It was bonkers to see how fast they could travel passed us, with no weight and big engines, but I suppose if you can afford it, why not. We are definitely not travelling the same way as they were, nor are they likely to be going as far as we are.

The scenery through the central part of the route was great and varied. We had mountain passes and deserts to content with and the temperature rose all the time as we approached the eastern coast. We were aiming for a fuel stop in town called San Felipe, which was an absolute dump and not somewhere we wanted to stop. But as we approached the coast, it got a little chillier as the wind came off the Sea of Cortez. The aim was to get as far south along the coast as we could in order to make up time and distance, something that was a concern for me, but maybe not so much for Jorik. Whilst the landscapes along the coastline were breath taking and pretty varied, it is clear that Baja is the place where RVs go to die. There were loads of them all along the coastline. I assume locals pick them up cheap from America and use them as accommodation, although the majority of them look pretty much uninhabitable, all rusted out from the sea air and what I assume are some pretty hostile conditions when the weather is less than ideal. Mind you, a roof over one’s head, is more than many might have, even if it is a rusted old bucket of an RV.

We had found a guest house at a place called Alfonsinas, which was a good distance for the day’s journey, but when we looked online, they wanted around MXN2,200 per person (about $130) and you had to choose a menu option of either MXN800 (excluding octopus and seafood), or MXN1,000 (including octopus and seafood). So, bollox to that, this was way to dear for our traveller’s budget. So, we found a spot called Papa Fernandez that offered camping as an option.

From the start of this trip, we knew we might have to camp on occasion, but I was really expecting the cost of cheap hotels, hostels, guest houses, etc to be much more affordable. Clearly, I was wrong. Some of the spots this far north within Baja are really quite expensive for us. So, we decided, how bad could camping be, and we would save around $250 in cost, which we much rather spend n when we have an opportunity to stay somewhere a little more beneficial and not whilst we are passing through and just spending the night.

Papa Fernandez was not sign posted at all, just a dirt track that pulled off the Highway towards the coast. We had been in the saddle for a long time, so concentration levels were waning. Thankfully this part of Baja still provided Jorik with mobile data, so his sat nav identified the turn off, which could easily have been missed. This was our first opportunity to test the bikes on a surface that was less than ideal. It started out pretty good, a solid compacted dirt track, but over the distance of about 1 mile, it turned into a sandy track with ruts. Jorik has the honour of the first “off” on the bike as he veered a little too close to the side of the track as we approached the small holding. Thankfully, we caught it on camera and I’m sure the footage will make it into one of the video posts, once we get decent enough internet to edit and upload the video footage. I had to turn back to help him pick up his bike, which turned out to be a little heavier and more difficult than I think we were expecting. No harm to Jorik and no real damage to the bike, so all good. We pressed on the last few meters to the entrance of this wild place called Papa Fernandez. There were 4 old boys chilling out at a table at what we assumed to be the reception area. The first comment from 1 of them was “is that a cooler box full of beers on the back of your bike” referring to the top boxes. I think he thought he was being funny, but he wasn’t, chop! We had a chat with them about our trip and the fact that we are both South African, which came as a surprise to them. They directed us towards the campsite, which was over a hill and away from the main settlement of rusted out old vehicles, and once again, rusted out old RVs. As we were getting ready to head towards the campsite, their food came out, which was fresh fish and tacos. Being allergic to shellfish, I don’t touch seafood due to the potential for cross contamination, and looking at the state of the place, I assume the kitchen doesn’t follow the best hygiene practices. I politely declined, but Jorik dived in and said the fish was awesome. No idea what it was, other than super tasty.

The local lady advised us that camping would be MXN100 each for the night and that we should be able to get some food at the restaurant, wait restaurant is too strong a word for what they offered, I’ll say it was a kitchen with an outside seating area and that does it more justice than it probably deserves. We climbed over the hill towards the sea, and sure enough, there was a camping area with a few other campers already set up. It was around 5pm so we still had plenty of light to unpack, set up the tent, and we even managed a quick swim in the Sea of Cortez. Great to be experiencing the wilds of Baja up close and personal. Due to the lack of facilities, there were a couple of Portaloo’s as el baneos and that was it. No running water or showers for us hard core travellers, which sucked. Still, we weren’t going to let that get us down, so we got changed into normal clothes and headed over the hill to get some food and hopefully have a chat with the old boys to get the lay of the land in the local area. Unfortunately, they had packed up and headed to their respective RVs or accommodations. It looks like a very popular location for sports fishing, so we assumed that they were there for the fishing, not the local facilities. However, there was also no sign of anyone to cook for us, or hopefully provide a much needed cerveza. Feeling a little disheartened, we turned around to head back to our campsite and the sandwiches we had purchased at our last stop for just such an eventuality. As we started to climb the hill back to camp, the local lady called over to us to ask if we wanted anything, I assume, my Spanish is pretty much non-existent. Jorik managed to explain that we were after some food and a couple of cervezas, which was understood, but there was no opportunity for a beer, just a coke. We had tacos and a burrito, not like any other burrito I have ever had, it was more like a folded taco, but it was cooked and didn’t taste too bad, it was also cheap as chips, right up our street then.

Following our dinner of tacos in various guises, we headed back to camp before we lost the light to get ready for our first night’s camping. Not something that us tired old boys were looking forward to, but we have a tent and sleeping bags, so why not. We are not princesses and a little roughing it is what adventure motorcycling is all about. We still had some whiskey that we picked up in LA, so a little toot helped us prep for an early night in the tent.

Day 4 - Larry’s Place, Culver City, Los Angeles

The plan was to be away from Larry at no later than 10am to ensure a good run south for the day. We left at 10:30, so not too bad. Being a Saturday I was hoping that the infamous LA traffic would ease up and give us a relatively clear run out of the City on Highway 405. I was surprised at just how much traffic there was, and it continued pretty much all the way to San Diego. Once we got out of LA proper, the traffic was terrible with ridiculous queues, and we were lucky that 2 big BWM’s came past us splitting the outside lane of traffic. They were riding 2 up and loaded with gear, so likely heading down to the USA/Mexico border. Jorik was leading at the time and quickly made the decision to slot in behind them and use them as a blocker (a little American football term there!) so we could follow them and let them do the hard work. We rode behind them for quite a distance, which was great as they cleared the traffic for us.

We pulled into the San Diego Triumph dealership, who are also the local Royal Enfield dealer, in relatively good time and purchased the new battery for my bike. The guys at the dealership confirmed that they don’t even carry the Royal Enfield original battery, probably because it is just not up to the job, and sold us a more suitable battery. The guys were very helpful and interested in our trip, so they gave us a sweet “travellers discount” on the battery and we took the opportunity to pick up another bottle of oil whilst we had the chance. We set about undertaking the rather unpleasant experience of replacing the battery, which didn’t take us more than about 20 minutes (so good work on our part). Whilst the tools were out, we did a quick check on everything else and found that the new chains could do with a little more tension, so we tweaked the settings, a very quick job, and reloaded the bikes to head for the boarder, just 30 minutes down the road. Jorik, having an American phone, still had coverage so we were able to use the sat nav on his phone to get us through the maze of twists and turns to get back on to Highway 5 and head straight for the crossing at San Ysidro.

The border arrangement was very organised, and we passed through border control without even being stopped. In fact, we went straight through and started heading south once we saw the sign towards Rosarito. There was no way we were going to stary in Tijuana, which is notorious for being a wild town that Americans go to in order to enjoy the delights and more controversial elements of a less rigorous society that Tijuana offers, if that is what takes your fancy. For info, we were not interested, and wanted to cover some distance and head further south to Ensenada where we had booked a hotel for our first night in Baja, Mexico.

Having just about left the border control, we realised that we had no paperwork for ourselves or the bikes. Our research had informed us that whilst it might be acceptable to travel in Baja, Mexico with relative ease, i.e. no paperwork for either ourselves or the bikes, we would need the appropriate paperwork when we used the ferry from La Paz to mainland Mexico, the port of Mazatlan being our goal to enter. So we turned the bikes around, in a mass of traffic heading south and rode back into the border control (the wrong way) to sort ourselves out. A little hairy, but needs must. Once back inside the secure area, we were told where to go to get our immigration details sorted. We were bounced from 1 desk to another, in a relatively disorganised fashion, but it only took about an hour to get everything done and dusted and then we were back on the road heading south. Bit of fuss, but overall, a better border crossing than I have experienced elsewhere, particularly in some of the countries that I have been to in Africa.

It quickly become evident that Baja, Mexico is a bit run down and certainly gives the evidence of being a genuine third-world county. There was crap everywhere, the open sewers were pungent as we rode across the various crossings, and most of the houses (sorry casas) that we could see from the bikes, looked like they were about to fall down and were being held together by duct tape and cable ties. Mind you, that might just about be the strongest building materials that were used on some of these properties. There were a number of new developments being constructed, but the problem with seeing how these new developments are built, is that you can see the stages that they go through, i.e. the block work and the structural supports. Sketchy is the term I would apply to these buildings, and certainly not up to what we might assume to be a suitable standard. But hey ho, we are in Mexico now and if this is how they do things, so be it. We were not looking to buy a house, just pass through.

The plan was to stop in Rosarito for a quick photo shot, maybe a drink, and then press on to Ensenada. We passed right through Rosarito as it is an absolute dump and there wasn’t anything that took our fancy for a pit stop and a photo opportunity, well at least not that we passed. I appreciate that once you get off the main highway, the 1D, there are likely to be plenty of hotels, resorts, and guest houses that are lovely and would be great for a stop, but we wanted to cover distance and keep an eye on the time as we still had some ways to go. So, we missed a stop in Rosarito and pulled over on the side of the Highway at a little beach. We grabbed a couple of photos and had a quick celebratory drink to welcome ourselves to Baja, Mexico. Awesome to have got through our first border crossing and to be in our first proper country outside of the USA.

Pressing south we arrived at our hotel – the Hotel Paraiso Las Palmas, whilst the sun was still up and got settled into our double room with minimal fuss.

We met a really great guy called Fred, who is a keen biker, and is looking to purchase a Royal Enfield 350cc Classic. He was a fountain of information about places to go and see along our route and a really nice chap. He lives in LA and works in a hospital, but is originally from Mexicali, which is the capital city of Baja.

Having done most of our admin, we headed out to find some food and maybe a little tequila. When in Rome and all that bollox. We found a little cantina on the beach where got some nachos and a couple of margaritas. It really was great to chill out and take in the atmosphere, rather than pressing so hard to make distance and time up. Having had our rather unimpressive margaritas (not enough tequila, in my view), we didn’t want to spend our time having dinner in the same place as the sun had set and it was getting chilly and there were plenty of places, we could get a bite to eat. We headed back towards the hotel and found a restaurant that served typical Mexican food, tacos, burritos, enchiladas, etc and had a couple of beers and food, before calling it a night and getting back to hotel for a much needed sleep after a long day.

Day 3 - Casa Del Sol, Santa Barbara

The weather was still pretty grim when we woke up and prepared to head to Los Angeles. We were not expecting a long day in the saddle as we were meeting up with Larry, a good friend of Jorik’s that I have also know for many years, who lives in Culver City. There was no need to hang around in Santa Barbara and I was looking forward to the ride along the PCH through Malibu. We didn’t get any rain, but it was really grey, and the light wasn’t great as we headed towards the east. It was a shame as I am sure that the coastline is spectacular along this southern coast of California. Besides, isn’t always supposed to be sunny in California? It looks like we got a crappy window with shite weather, but I suppose there is no controlling the weather, and at least it wasn’t raining!

Passing through Malibu was a little bit of let down for me. We did see some fabulous houses, but there were also some pretty run-down parts of Malibu. The celebrities and rich folk must have a separate access road that heads to the swanky part of Malibu, or we just simply missed it. I’m not saying that it is a not a beautiful part of the world, just that it was a little underwhelming. So much so that we didn’t even stop for a few pictures. I suppose the fact that the light wasn’t great didn’t help to show off what I was expecting to be a bit of highlight along the California stretch of our ride. We arrived in Santa Monica in relatively good time and headed for the famous Santa Monica Pier. As we took the turn off for the Pier, we realised that the turn off took us directly into a car park, which it turned out cost $15 per day for bike. As there was no way we were going to pay that kind of money, we passed through the car park and headed down to Venice Beach, again a famous location that I’m pleased to be able to tick off the list. However, the homeless people, cracked sidewalks and roads, and the general sense of neglect is pretty much everywhere. There were still quite a few tourists about, but the experience left me less than impressed. We pulled into a great little dive bar called the Hinano Café just off the promenade along Venice Beach for a bite to eat. We had great burgers for about $10 and spent an hour or so watching the people go by. Pretty cool little chill out spot. Larry had let us know that he wouldn’t be home until around 6pm so we had the afternoon to chill out and have a look around town. We also had a fair bit of admin to do, what with downloading footage, updating the route maps, expenditure, blog, and all the other shite jobs that need doing to keep the machine working, so we had a ride around the area for a bit and then found ourselves a base of operations in a local brewery. We spent the rest of the afternoon beavering away in very friendly atmosphere with WI-FI and a great location along Main Street, Santa Moncia called the Library Alehouse.

We headed off to catch up with Larry for 6pm. Larry and Jorik go way back and whilst I have met Larry on a few occasions, I certainly don’t know him as well as Jorik does. All of my memories with Larry are from party occasions, such as weddings, trips overseas, and in pubs. So we have always been in a good space when we have met. However, Larry has turned to the dark side and started doing Iron Man events. He is super fit, doesn’t drink alcohol, and Jorik mentioned that we might have to pop out to grab a few beers when we get to his place. Whilst it was fantastic to catch up with Larry when we arrived, and a massive thanks for the opportunity to park our bikes in the secure garage within his apartment building, we did have to pop out for beers. Larry’s gorgeous wife, Shannon cooked us a fantastic, and I must emphasise, a fantastic home cooked meal of pot roast, shrimp, veggies, and potatoes with a salad.  Shannon prepares recipes and does a food blog, check it out at “Fit Slow Cooker Queen” on Facebook. We spent a fun evening with them and then crashed out at around 10pm expecting a long ride the next day down to San Deigo to get the battery sorted on my bike, the boarder crossing into Mexico, and then down to Ensenada for our first night in Baja.

Day 2 - Newark, San Francisco

Nick had to leave the house really early and as such, we had the opportunity to take our time in departing. We knew we had about an hour’s ride to Santa Cruz, our first stop for the day, so the plan was to leave Newark and head to a suitable location in Santa Cruz for breakfast. After a little bit of repacking, as the bikes are way overloaded, and some quick checks to oil levels, chain tensions, brake pads, etc, we left Nick around 10:30. Probably later than we initially had hoped, but the sun was out and the day ahead looked promising. For info, the camp char didn’t make it past Nick’s house as I realised that Jorik was probably right, the chair was indulgence and I need to harden up.

We were expecting that the first part of the ride to Santa Cruz, through San Francisco, would be relatively mundane as it was primarily on main roads. The traffic was horrendous, even at that time of the day and well clear of rush hour, but as we left the San Francisco area behind us and started towards Santa Cruz, the roads become a little better, the mountain passes included some great riding, even though traffic was still pretty heavy. It required a fair amount of concentration to keep up and ensure that we stayed well clear of the nutter trucker drivers.

We arrived at Santa Cruz Boardwalk at around midday. Having not had breakfast at Nick’s before leaving, we were both starving and in need of a decent location to overlook the beautiful beaches and get some much needed grub in. We eventually found a spot called the Crow’s Nest, right on the beach front and overlooking a marina. Probably not the most cost-effective location for motorcycle travellers on a budget, but hey ho, we were in need of a little spoiling.

We had a great lunch, shot a little video clip on the Santa Cruz beach front and then got on the road heading south for Santa Barabara. The initial plan was to follow the coast road south and pass through places like Monterey, Big Sur and Morro Bay. However, there is a road closure along the coast road and the risk of getting caught up in a massive delay and then having to back track to get onto Highway 101, was just too great. So, the plan became to head straight down Highway 101 to Santa Barabara taking the first opportunity to hit the coastline when it presented itself, which appeared to be near Pismo Beach.

As we approached the coast from the inland near Avila Beach, it quickly became clear that there was a very heavy sea fog that was sitting along the coastline. Not only was the fog really thick, but the temperature dropped drastically. We made the decision to skip getting off Highway 101 at Pismo Beach and joining the coast road as there was no chance of seeing anything worthwhile and as it was already getting late, we felt it best to stick to the faster route along Highway 101, which we followed towards Los Olivos. This route took us through a mountainous region where we passed Cachuma Lake and stopped at some incredible vista points to take a few photos and meet a few people who were also checking out the stunning view and stopped to chat about bikes and ask us about our trip. We then descended from Cachuma Lake towards Santa Barbara (and the cold) and arrived at our accommodation at around 7pm – Casa Del Sol.

We checked in, unpacked our gear and headed out to find a bite to eat. The first stop we pulled into – Zookers, looked great and we grabbed a table and started to go through the menu. It quickly became evidence that this was not the kind of place we should be eating at on a budget. The mains were around $45-$50 and it looked like we might drop around $150 if we were to include a few beers. So, with much embarrassment, we had to leave Zookers and found a local place called the Rincon Brewery that did much more reasonably priced food and we managed a tasty craft beer. Following dinner, we popped into a dive pool bar for a pint and couple of games of pool before heading back to Casa Del Sol and a good night’s sleep.

Day 1 - South Lake Tahoe

The anticipation of leaving was clearly high as both Jorik and I were up early and spent an hour or 2 packing and re-packing the bikes. It would probably have made sense to do this a few days earlier so that we could get the sense of how much stuff we would require on the trip, but it was a busy few days up to our departure and we simply didn’t find the time to go through everything. Like most things we have experienced on this trip, lots of exciting things tend to happen at the last minute. So why should our departure plans be any different!

We loaded up the bikes with just about as much gear as the girls could accommodate. I even managed to squeeze a small camp chair on to the back of my bike as I am too old to be fixing motorbikes on the side of the road from ground level. So the little camp chair that has made an appearance or 2 in our videos from the bike prep prior to leaving, was strapped to the bike. However, Jorik clearly expressed his concern that this was an indulgence and that I should ‘man up’ and that his “vintage” camp chair was under no circumstances to be left somewhere between South Lake Tahoe and Panama City and must be returned. I still packed the chair!

We were due to meet at the Boys and Girls Club Lake Tahoe (BGCLT) at 11:00am so that the kids could have a look at the bikes, and Aimi (our awesome contact from the BGCLT) had arranged for a big send off with the kids at 12:00. With about 30 minutes to go until we were due to be at the BGCLT, we wanted to do a quick video update with the girls in the sun looking ready to roll (albeit a little ‘top heavy’). Jorik had positioned his bike for a great shot, and I jumped on to my bike to move into place and whilst the ignition turned on, the electrics simply died as I tried to start the bike. This was not a promising sign, particularly with time rapidly running out for us to get ourselves down to the BGCLT. Jorik and I were dumb founded as to what the problem might be as I had been riding the bike pretty much every day for the past week, with the exception of the odd ‘snow day’ that we had experienced since I had arrived from the UK. After a few minutes I tried the bike again and it turned over, no problem. So, panic over, it was all going to be fine. I turned it off to check that it would fire up again, and sure enough, nothing! We had done some welding to the rear frame of the bikes a couple of days before to help strengthen the structure that supports the top box and panniers, particularly if we fall over in sand. I had disconnected my battery when we did the welding, just as a precaution and it might have been that when I connected the batter up, I might not have done a great job. So, with minutes to spare, I quickly unloaded much of the gear that I had just packed, took off the saddle, and disconnected and then re-connected the battery. All good, she fired up first time, but it did leave a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that this might come back to haunt us.

Having got the electrical issue sorted (I hope), we shot a quick clip and then jumped on the bikes to get ourselves done to the BGCLT. About 100 kids were all lined up in neat rows in the open space to the rear of the BGCLT facility, waiting for us to turn up at 11:00. As we were only about 5 minutes late, it was lucky that the kids hadn’t started to riot already. Whilst down at the BGCLT, we also got the chance to have a look around the fantastic facilities that they currently offer, including the rather tired and dated playground area. As has been evident from our fund-raising efforts to date (and a massive thanks to Aimi and the others that contributed so generously) the Enfields Overland crew have managed to raise $50,000 that will go towards the reconstruction of a more modern and suitable playground for the kids at BGCLT. The kids were great, with loads of questions being thrown at us. Some random questions like, how do you pee, what snacks are you taking with you, and how old are you? Much to Jorik’s glee, he explained that whilst I look really old with my grey hair and white beard, he is actually older than me.

The kids all lined up and waved us off, which was a really great send off. But we weren’t quite done with South Lake Tahoe yet. A friend of Jorik’s, Ted Kennedy, who is a local business owner and the frontman for a local band call The Residents (check them out https://www.residentstahoe.com/) had asked to have lunch with us to see us on our way. We popped over to the venue that they were playing at that afternoon and caught up with Ted over lunch whilst he was setting up for the afternoon session. Ted very kindly gave us some cash for beers and pizza along the road. What an absolutely awesome gesture and it was great to be in his company, even for only a short time.

We hit the road at around 13:30, heading for our friend, Nick Wells’ house in Newark, which is just outside of San Francisco. Climbing out of the Sierra Mountains after a fair amount of snow in the glorious sunshine was simply spectacular. I have been to Lake Tahoe more than a few times, both in the winter and the summer, but to see the mountains covered in snow, whilst the sun is out, was amazing.

We travelled over the mountains and cut through some of back roads to make our way south, trying to avoid the freeways and motorways as much as possible. Our bikes are not that large at only 411cc, which delivers about 24bhp (with no load), so going fast for extended periods is not ideal for our girls! And before anyone makes a smart comment, our actual girls are certainly capable of going plenty fast for extended periods! Big shout out to Siobhan and Melody (our respective much better halves) for allowing us the opportunity for undertaking this fantastic adventure, although it is for the kids!

We pulled into Newark as the light was starting to fade. It was a little after 6pm when we took the final turn towards Nick’s house. He had provided us with detailed instructions (in the form of a video – nice work Nick) as to how were able to gain access to the garage if he wasn’t home. However, little did we know that Nick was actually following us into his neighbourhood and even managed to shoot a little video clip of us, which was perfect timing.

Nick was a very gracious host and fed and watered us, with a couple of well-earned beers after our first day. I have to admit, for an old man, I felt surprisingly good for a such a long day in the saddle. Still, I was in bed and asleep by 10:00pm, leaving Jorik to beaver away at the video editing, which I suspect might become a recurring theme. He did inform me that he wasn’t up much longer after me.

Introduction to Blog

Welcome to the Enfields Overland Blog. I’m no expert at this sort of crap and writing is not my forte, but I’ll try to give you all an honest (where legal) and entertaining view of our experiences along the way. I plan to write this blog from my perspective, but where Jorik has input, I’ll add these aspects in italics, or simply note that the relative piece has had input from Jorik directly.

What with Jorik spending a lot of our time off the bikes editing and preparing videos and photos of the trip to post on our various social media platforms, I think it only fair that I take on the responsibility of preparing this blog.

In addition, you may see reference to the “girls” within the blog. These are the bikes that we are taking on the trip. It is clear that we are riding Royal Enfield Himalayan motorcycles on this trip, but I still like to refer to my bikes as girls and I often even name them. Whilst I am not sure that we have settled on names for the girls yet, we are loosely referring to my bike as Black Betty and Jorik’s bike as Grey Gertrude.

Hopefully you all enjoy these little updates for our trip. And don’t forget, whilst this might appear to be 2 blokes on their bikes cruising around enjoying the shit out of ourselves, we are raising funds for the White Lodge Centre (https://www.whitelodgecentre.co.uk/) and the Boys and Girls Club Lake Tahoe (https://bgclt.org/). If you do enjoy the blog, and the updates on our social media platforms, please do visit our sponsors page and throw a little donation towards these great charity organisations. Alternatively, if you don’t think that the blog is entertaining enough, or that Jorik and I haven’t gotten ourselves into enough trouble, please do make a donation to our Go Fund Me page (https://www.gofundme.com/f/enfields-overland-motorcycle-central-america-trip) so that we can buy a few beers!

The History of Royal Enfield.

History

Royal Enfield is an Indian multinational motorcycle manufacturing company headquartered in Chennai. The Royal Enfield brand, including its original English heritage, is the oldest global motorcycle brand in continuous production. The company operates manufacturing plants in Chennai in India.

The first Royal Enfield motorcycle was built in 1901 by The Enfield Cycle Company of Redditch, Worcestershire, England, which was responsible for the design and original production of the Royal Enfield Bullet, the longest-lived motorcycle design in history. Licensed from the original English Royal Enfield by the indigenous Indian Madras Motors, the company is now a subsidiary of Eicher Motors, an Indian automaker. The company makes classic-looking motorcycles including the Royal Enfield Bullet, Classic 350, Royal Enfield Thunderbird, Meteor 350, Classic 500, Interceptor 650, Continental and many more. Royal Enfield also make adventurous and offroading motorcycles like Royal Enfield Himalayan. Their motorcycles are equipped with single-cylinder and twin-cylinder engines.

Finding the right bikes

RE Himalayan - The bike of choice

In 2016 the Royal Enfield Himalayan was introduced. The first Dual Sport Royal Enfield. It was a game changer for Royal Enfield. For us it was perfect, staying close to our Royal Enfield roots with a motorcycle that is affordable, simple and easy to work on and a true work horse. Having undertaken numerous adventure trips, we wanted a bike that would not need a high end service center or technical computer parts to ensure it runs, something that we could (mostly) fix on the side of the road or with the help of a local repair shop wherever we might need it, and something that was light and small enough to get through some tight tracks and roads.
We found 2 perfect bikes close to the Lake Tahoe area. Both are 2021 models and both have been run in and lovingly serviced with some upgraded mods by single previous owners. Meaning a lot of the kinks and issues that these bikes typically are plagued with have been sorted out.
Having these 2 bikes 8 months before the trip has also allowed us to test and challenge them ourselves as well as giving us the opportunity to get used to riding these little beasts. So far it has been an absolute pleasure and we have no doubt that these are the perfect bikes for this trip.