Day 24- Hotel Las Olas, Puerto Escondido

Our next major town we were aiming for was San Cristobal de las Casas, up in the mountains of Chiapas. However, it was way too far to do in a single day, so we had to choose a location that was a sensible ride, but with a view to at least offering us an opportunity to enjoy the area. We didn’t just want to stop when we got tired as we might end up in a shitty little town like San Carlos back in Baja. Leason learnt, we now try to research where we are going and what sort of attractions there are so that when we are not on the bikes, we get to enjoy the scenery, the culture, and maybe a cold beer or 2. It looked like a town called Salina Cruz was about halfway and the last stop for us along the south Mexican coastline. We could go inland for an extra hour to make the following day’s ride to San Cristobal a little easier, but I fancied 1 more night on the coast before going into the mountains. I am expecting that the temperature will drop as we climb in altitude, but we might also get some rain, so it could be a double-edged sword.

So, with a plan for the ride in place, we got ourselves ready and departed relatively early. We stopped at the Zicatela sign to do a quick video and say our goodbyes to an awesome spot. I think Sayulita still takes my favourite spot so far, mainly because the beach was so great; I particularly liked the gold flecks in the sand and the water as you walk in through the breakers, and the fact that you can pretty much walk around the whole town of just 3 square blocks.

After my boot surgery, which I did not consider a success, I hadn’t been able to find some “cuero” (leather) to glue over the top of my left boot, nor had I found a bit of rubber that would be a suitable substitute, neither had we solved the issue with the screws on the front brake master cylinder so the front brakes had not been bled yet and mine were certainly more than a bit spongy. As such, we stopped at an AutoZone on the way out of town, picked up a much newer and more suitable screwdriver, complete with a socket spanner placement at the top of the shaft so we could get some proper leverage on the screwdriver if we needed to. As we were pulling out of the car park, I spotted a tyre repair shop on the side of the road and pulled up, took my helmet off and walked up to the young lad working there (working might be a bit to strong) and asked if I could have a bit of off-cut inner tube. Actually, I just picked up a big section from a car tire and gestured to him if I could have it. He initially looked at me like I was mad, but I showed him that I wanted to cover my boot where there was clearly a problem with my repair job. He must have thought that I was just a crazy gringo and let me have a big section, he even offered some scissors, but I was keen to get going and it would be a job for later as it was already getting pretty warm, and we had a big ride ahead of us. The ride was relatively uneventful, other than brutally hot. We did stop plenty of times and there were some nice sections of riding, we love the twisties and the girls love the twisties. It is great to ride a bike that you have confidence in, even if I have to be aware that my front brakes need to be treated carefully until I get the chance to sort them out to my satisfaction. We managed some drone footage over a very nice bay, but as I say, it wasn’t the most impressive route, particularly as we were travelling inland. If I haven’t already mentioned it, the 1 ball ache, literally, is that the Mexicans love to put a few speed bumps as you pass through a town, or a settlement. I get the point, they want drivers to slow down through populated areas where there are stray dogs, stray kids, and just about everything going on that you can fathom, including the odd cow that just walks across the road. However, these bloody speed bumps are not consistent. Some are nice and wide and whilst cars and trucks have to slow down, the motorbikes don’t. I don’t just mean our motorbikes; I mean the thousands of Mexican motorbikes that are everywhere. But some of the speed bumps are nasty bastards, being small and super steep, in some cases through degradation, you can hit a particularly solid block that has bits of rebar sticking out, bloody deathtraps. As such, you approach all the “bumpos” with caution, loads of caution. Anyway, I digress, we did eventually arrive at the town of Salina Cruz on the coast. However, it is a port town and there were loads of industrial activities going on and it did not look like the kind of destination that we thought it might. We obviously only saw the few nice photos of the town on google, and taken at just the right angle, because it looked really shit on our approach. Anyway, we were committed, and it was hot, bloody hot, so we decided this would be where we stay for the night. As there was no beachfront to speak of, we headed for the town square to collect ourselves and have a look at google for a hotel for the night. The town centre was pretty mad, but a very nice town square, that we rode all the way round looking for somewhere to park up to have a break in the shade. We did pull up in an area that had clearly been closed off, but there were 1 or 2 bikes in the area that was closed off, and we weren’t going anywhere other than to a nearby bench with some shade. Whilst checking the phone, at least 2 laud bangs went off. I don’t hang around guns much but having been drafted into the Air Force straight out of school and growing up in South Africa, I know what a gunshot is, and that sounded very much like a couple of gunshots. Not a single soul in the park flinched, not kids, not old people, not even the dogs, batted an eyelid. I looked at Jorik and sort of mouthed, “was that gunshot?”. Other than my relative inexperience around guns, Jorik does not suffer that little issue and he looked at me a said, “I’m pretty damn sure that was gunshots.” We started heading back towards the bikes to make tracks as we agreed that this was not where we wanted to be for the night. Not 5 seconds later, a bunch more gunshots went off and again, not a single person even looked up. We had found a City Express hotel (with a pool), about 20 minutes ride north of the town centre, along the road out of town, which would make the next morning’s start easier, so we were getting geared up to head off, when a Federale guy came up to us to tell us to move the bikes along and that we were not supposed to be parked there. Not a care in the world, it’s not like a bunch of gunshots in a public square had just gone off. Anyway, we loaded up and were quick to get the hell out of dodge. Jorik still had the benefit of his mobile phone service, so we had google maps up, which was directing us to the hotel. Bizarrely, it turned us into a shopping mall car park, where there was a hotel, which looked like a corporate type of arrangement. Not what we were expecting, but we parked up and went into ask about a room. They guy was pretty helpful, but as he explained there was no pool, we knew we had the wrong place. So, we jumped back on the bikes and rode a little further out of town until we found it, right on the outskirts of the town. It was actually cheaper than the previous option, still a little dear, but it did have a pool and we were knackered and hot. After a swim to cool off, and a little chill out time, we jumped on the bikes to head back towards town to find some food. The shopping mall looked like it might offer something other than just tacos, so we went to check it out. I also needed to pick up some glue for my boot repair job as I now had the rubber to fit. We found a Chinese buffet arrangement in the mall, I know, Chinese food in Mexico is a bit odd, but hay ho. So, dinner done, we headed into the massive Walmart that was the anchor for the shopping mall. Sure enough, superglue was available, and we picked up some water and snacks as there was little opportunity for that sort of stuff near the hotel, other than an expensive vending machine. Back at the hotel, I set about with my repair job. I trimmed the rubber to the right shape, well close enough, and got 2 tubes of superglue out, they are only tiny, and Jorik got the camera gear ready to capture this final stage of the boot surgery masterclass. The boot is quite big, so I had dragged over a char from the hotel room to place it on, whilst I sat on the edge of the bed. It wasn’t a very big room. So, with bits ready, I proceed to open the 1st tube of super glue. It requires that you puncture the top with the spout jobbie and as I pierced it, the superglue sprayed all over my hand, sticking my fingers together and pissing all over the chair and of course my boot. I know that superglue goes off really fast and we had such a limited amount, I wanted to get as much on the boot as possible, so I started spreading it around the tow of the boot as best I could, whilst trying to flex my hand to stop my fingers from sticking. At the same time, Jorik was opening the other tube to spread the glue on the rubber, which we would then carefully stick to the boot, and he too pissed superglue all over his hand, the floor, but most of it went on the rubber. We got the rubber placed, but of course the glue was so thin and watery that it had by now slipped down the boot away from where it should have been and dripped onto the chair. I might just add that the chair was a fabric chair that now had a motorcycle boot stuck to it in various places. The whole thing was a damn dog show, and I am embarrassed just writing about it. Anyway, I rushed off to try to wash the superglue of my hands as my fingers were proper stuck together, and by the time I got back, Jorik is in stiches as the boot is firmly stuck to the chair. I had to get the Leatherman out to cut the boot away from the fabric, which left a bunch of holes in the seat cover. I think the repair job was maybe not the best result I could have hoped for, but the rubber was stuck (for the most part) and I don’t think any water will get in when we get caught in the rain down the road.

Day 23 - Hotel Las Olas, Puerto Escondido

It was a late start for us this morning, well actually it was afternoon before we really started to move around. We had aimed to start the bike maintenance early so that we would avoid the heat of the day, but after the session with Action Jackson, neither of us were particularly chipper, but the bike maintenance needed doing, so we headed up the street to collect our laundry, grab some food and then get started on the bike work. It was about 2pm once we got ourselves organised and the plan was to check and clean the brakes and bleed out any air that might be causing them to be spongy, and they were not great, Cassy was worse than Jules. Once this job was done, we would tackle the valve clearances, which hadn’t been done since before we left Lake Tahoe, about 3,500 miles earlier, and if we still had the energy, we would give the girls a wash. The temperature was already nearing 40 degrees centigrade by the time we got busy, ridiculously hot, but we had set ourselves up next to the pool so that we could just flop into the cool’ish water to revive ourselves when it got too much. It quickly became evident that we had a problem. 1 of the 2 screws that hold on the cap to the master cylinder for the front brakes was starting to strip as we tried to undo it. This happened on both bikes, which is a bizarre coincidence, particularly as we had topped up the brake fluid less than a week before in Jocotepec. We either tightened 1 screw too much when replacing the lid on the front cylinder, or it has somehow seized up. Anyway, we tentatively tried to loosen the screw(s), but it was not going to work, not without stripping the head completely and with no replacement screws, I was very nervous that we might end up with a situation where we had no front brakes at all. This is not an acceptable solution for the bikes as about 70% of your braking force relies on the front brakes. So, we held off bleeding the brakes and instead just gave them a thorough clean with brake cleaner and put them back together again. All of this only took about an hour to do on both bikes, but it now meant we had to tackle the valve clearances. Based on our experience of doing this back in the comfort of Jorik’s garage in Lake Tahoe, we were not looking forward to this very fiddly job, but as we had already done it, we were expecting it should be a lot easier. To be fair it was easier but doing it in the crushing heat was not fun. Thankfully the pool allowed us to cool off every 20 minutes or so and as we were not going to ride the bikes that afternoon, we were also able to sink a few cold cervezas whilst working through the steps. Bikes sorted to the best of our abilities in the circumstances, we headed out for the afternoon to watch the surfing at sunset. Unfortunately, there was only 1 surfer and a body surfer braving the waves that afternoon, but we managed to get some great drone footage and it was very chilled out on the beach. We had dinner in the restaurant across the street from the hotel, which was very reasonably priced, and even got in a couple of games of pool. They must have had 50 pool tables in the place, and only 2 were being used. It is clearly the off-season as why would you have so many pool tables when there were such a limited number of people about. It was great that Puerto Escondido is not overrun with backpackers and tourists, but at the same time, there were less people about for us to meet and interact with. And of course, the meeting and people and interacting is the thing that I like most about doing these crazy trips. Following dinner, both of us were pretty wiped out. The night before had taken a toll on us and spending the day in the heat working on the bikes for a few hours had also sapped our energy. Whilst dinner and a few beers were all that was required, we felt it necessary to pop into Jackson’s Bar to say goodbye as we would be heading off the following morning. As we arrived at about 08:30pm, it was all closed up and Oscar’s missus said that Jackson hadn’t opened the bar all day and was nowhere to be seen. We both breathed a sigh of relief as I was dreading further Jackson’s specials when I was so knackered anyway. Being old and partying like it was 1995 is getting tough on us. So, we headed back to the hotel, had 1 last cerveza to say goodbye to a wicked spot, and got to bed early. Thanks Puerto Escondido, you rocked!

Day 22 - Hotel Las Olas, Puerto Escondido

Being a rest day doesn’t necessarily mean we get to lie around on the beach and drink beer all day. Sure, there will be beers drunk, and there will no doubt be some beach time, not to mention a session at Jackson’s Bar when the sun goes down. However, we had a few chores to do with regards to the bikes. The brakes have been spongy for a few days now and whilst we did top up the brake fluid in Jocotepec, they really needed a good clean and bleeding to get shot of any air bubbles and a top up new clean brake fluid. The pads were looking fine and as we already had spare pads (if needed), a fresh can of brake cleaner from a recent stop at an AutoZone, we didn’t have a clear tube, which is needed to check for a point when any bubbles stop to come out of the calliper, so we needed to run into town for a few bits. We also needed to top up the coffers with cash, so we jumped on the bikes early, before it got too hot, and went into the town proper. Jorik commented on just how much it had changed since he had been here in ’95. The whole area has grown massively since then and whilst I have nothing to compare the current town with, it was evident that it was being thrown together at a rapid pace. There weren’t too many modern buildings, just 2 or 3 storey buildings at most with 1 or 2 hotels here and there. We did our jobs and by the time we got back to the hotel, it was stifling. We decided that bike maintenance would have to wait until the next morning when it was cooler, but that rather than do bike maintenance, we would chill at the hotel and catch up on other admin tasks. Jorik had editing to do, as always, and my left riding boot needed some serious attention. I set up a space on the balcony and set about trying to perform boot surgery on my ever-worsening situation. In clearing off the old superglue, I ended up taking a chunk straight out of the top of the boot, nowhere critical, but if rainwater gets in there, my foot will be constantly wet and uncomfortable. I tried supergluing the section back in, but the boot has cracked in a number of places, and I wasn’t comfortable with the result. Jorik suggested glueing on some off-cut tire tube, which we had unfortunately ditched in La Paz. I thought it over and considered that maybe some leather would be a better option, but where the hell would I find a piece of leather. Anyway, I got the boot put back together as best I could and considered how I would improve on my repair job down the road. Following a spot of lunch, it was beach time and a few cervezas. We also managed to drop off our washing, which means we have clean clothes on the way, I was on my last t-shirt, which I would have to wear that evening with my swimmers as even my shorts were in the wash. It was a pretty chilled out and lazy afternoon. Jorik went down to the beach to watch the sun set go down and take some pictures in the different light, and I took the opportunity to smash out about 2 hours of catch-up on the laptop. Never a fun task, but once I have completed a day, I feel I can clear the space that previous days are taking up in my head to store more information until I get a chance or have the energy to catch up again and clear more days. To be fair, it was a pretty awesome sunset from the balcony at the hotel and I had a cold beer to boot. Jorik came back after the sun set and had some great footage of guys surfing, which I was a bit disappointed I missed. That evening we headed over to Jackson’s Bar for a few specials. We were going to grab some food in a beachfront restaurant directly across from the hotel that had loads of pool tables and that looked reasonably priced but made the mistake of dropping into Jackson’s Bar first. There is a street food vendor right outside his bar called Oscar, who runs the place with his missus. There is clearly bad blood between Jackson and Oscar, but both of them wanted the business, and as Oscar doesn’t serve any alcoholic drinks, this seemed like a win-win to me. Jorik had some tacos, and I had a burger with a slice of pineapple, perfect for the seaside, tropical location. However, the pineapple wasn’t cooked, which is clearly not the right way to include pineapple in a burger. Oscar and his missus were then informed on how to serve pineapple burgers correctly in the future. I’m not sure my advice will be taken seriously. It all ended quite friendly and following some further shenanigans in Jackson’s Bar, who by the way has “Action” tattooed on his right bicep, and “Jackson” tattooed on his left bicep, you go it “Action Jackson”, we headed back to the hotel way past our normal bedtime.

Day 21 - Romano Palace, Acapulco

Having had a day off the bikes so that we could check out Acapulco and in particular, see the cliff divers, which was a massive highlight, we knew we were in for a really big day. Doing a trip like this in the very limited timescales that we have given ourselves (just 6 weeks), means that there are limited opportunities to chill out as we need to get the milage done. The distance to Puerto Escondido is about 250 miles, much more than we would normally take on in a single day, particularly as google suggested that it would take around 7 or 8 hours to complete. Having looked at the map and potential locations to stop about halfway, there really weren’t too many options that took our fancy, so we decided that we would put in a massive day and reward ourselves with an extra day off in Puerto Escondido. So, we were up early to make a good start out of Acapulco on what promised to be a brutal day. Leaving Acapulco was a bittersweet experience. It has always been a bucket list destination for me, maybe because growing up in the 70’s and 80’s, Acapulco appeared to be such an exotic location, so far away from Cape Town. However, following the hurricane of October ’23, and just the general lack of clear up that I would have thought would be an easy win for the local authority to try to bring back as much tourism as soon as possible to try to boost the economy, just doesn’t seem to be happening. Be that as it may, we pulled over on our way out of Acapulco to do a quick video and say our goodbyes, and then it was on for the big push to Puerto Escondido. The weather was brutally hot, just absolutely draining. Some of the roads were great, with awesome twisties and great sweeping bends that the motorbikes loved, but generally the landscapes were pretty boring compared to some of the scenery we have seen along this southern coastline of Mexico. As we had left so early, that we hadn’t bothered with breakfast, or even a quick coffee before heading out, so after about 2 hours on the road, we pulled off in a tiny little town at a roadside vendor to grab a bite. The coffee was like tar and whilst I thought I was putting in creamer, it was actually really fine castor sugar, which made the coffee way too sweet for me. Breakfast was a huevos al Mexicana with tortillas, and wasn’t too bad, considering everything, including the coffee was cooked up over an open fire. As we pulled off from our roadside breakfast stop, there was clearly a foreigner hitch hiking with sign for Pinotepa, so I pulled over to say hi and see what he was up to and where he was heading. It must have been a bit odd for him talking to me with my helmet and sunglasses on and just a white beard sticking out. He sounded German and said he was just cruising around Mexico going where the road took him. He did actually think that I might give him a lift and as I was saying good luck to him, he still asked if he could jump on the back with all his gear (and of course mine) so that I could take him the 100 or so kms down the road. I explained that that was simply not going to happen, but we left him in good spirits with his thumb stuck out looking for the next ride. It was a very long and very hot ride. My ass hurt like there was no tomorrow. Actually, it is not so much my ass as the tops of my legs, just below my ass. The saddle, whilst giving a much better riding position, is a little wide and it leaves my legs and ass hurting after about 3 or 4 hours. Anything more than that and it really does become uncomfortable. I can usually zone out the discomfort, particularly if the scenery is great and roads nice and twisty. In addition, as we knew we would be doing a lot of milage on Highway 200, the main highway along this stretch of South Mexico, we had decided to skip the comms for the day, and I was able to put on some tunes to help the time pass. It worked a treat and I even enjoyed some of the time lost in my helmet and my own thoughts. We stopped just before we arrived in Puerto Escondido, absolutely knackered and blown out by the heat, so that we could get the comms back up and running and chat about what the plan was. In simple terms, we would ride up to the main drag along the main beach, Zicatela, and find a beachfront bar, grab a beer and a mezcal, and ask where the best place to stay for the most reasonable sum of money would be. We missed the main beachfront road on our first attempt and ended up riding down to a junction where it was evident that the beachfront road was a one-way arrangement for the majority of its length. As such, we headed back up to the main road and then traced our steps back to a sensible place to turn off and approach the beach from the correct end. There were clearly more hotels, bars and restaurants, along this stretch. Nothing too fancy from what we could see, but definitely what we were looking for. The first decent looking hostel that we came across, called the Selina, looked like it had a good vibe about it, and there were a bunch of bars across the street from it right on the beach. We found parking right outside one of these bars, which looked like it also had a gym and a small boxing ring above the bar area. It helped that there were a few fit birds doing their workout sessions to the rear of the bar and as soon as we peeled off our gloves, helmets and jackets, most of which were wet with sweat (nice), I walked up to the bar area to have a chat. There was a youngish chap sitting at the bar with a beer, who was clearly not Mexican, and a young Mexican lad behind the bar. I asked for 2 beers and the chap sitting at the bar said that I was welcome to Jackson’s Bar, he was Jackson, and that at his bar, the special is a beer and a shot of mezcal for MXN90. So, 2 specials ordered, I introduced myself whilst Jorik was walking up to meet me. Jackson explained that he was originally from Manchester but had been travelling for some years and managing hostels in Vietnam and now Mexico. He had owned the bar for a year, and he had a business partner who ran the gym and workout area. We chatted whilst we had our specials and asked after the best hotel arrangement in town. Both Jackson and the young lad said that the hostel across the street was a bit pretentious and that we would be better off going a little further down the street to see what we could find. I still went across the street to see a bit more about this hostel arrangement, which did look very nice. It had a great bar, a pool and a little coffee shop right next door, all we could need. The chap behind the desk was less than helpful and whilst his English was fine, his attitude was a bit off. Maybe because I looked all of my 50 years old, scraggly grey hair, and sweat stained t-shirt whilst still wearing my riding trousers and boots. He said that he only had 2 beds available in a 10-bed dormitory and for only 1 night at a cost of MXN450 each, and that if I was interested, I should book online. I asked if we could keep the bikes within the hostel area overnight and he said that was not possible. I got completely the wrong sense of the place, so headed back over the road where Jorik and Jackson were firmly engaged in conversation. Jackson advised us that his sister, or a friend of his sister’s, or someone he knew, had stayed at a little spot called Hotel Las Olas. It was only about 4 minutes’ walk from his bar, and we could see a gate secured the driveway, so we went over for a look. It turned out, the manager, Migual, had a single room, with 2 x double beds, a perfectly good pool, our own balcony overlooking the main road and the beach on the opposite side, and very few guests. He was also more than happy for us to park the bikes off the street in his secure driveway, which we both immediately noted, was under a sunshade. All of this would cost us the princely sum of MXN500 each per night and we could stay as long as we liked. Massive result. We dragged ourselves out of the rest of our riding gear, changed into swimmers, and shot straight down to the beach. The beach is beautiful, but the sea was another story. They don’t call it the Mexican pipeline for nothing, it was pretty strong. We only lasted about 10 minutes, and after such a long day in the heat, we were both wiped out. After a refreshing and very gently swim back at the hotel, we went in search of some food. Freshly showered and wearing my cleanest evening shirt; actually, my only shirt, which I had just worn on both evenings in Acapulco because we couldn’t find anywhere to buy colourful shirts that were even half way decent (Jorik’s swim shorts are evidence of this), I was waiting for Jorik on the street when a young foreign girl walked past with her headphones in. I asked if she knew any decent restaurants to eat along the beachfront and she stopped and suggest an Irish Pub called the Black Rose and a place called El Cafeteria up the street in the opposite direction from Jacksons. There were plenty of options around with loads of great looking restaurants with reasonable prices, so we both felt that an Irish Pub was definitely not what we were looking for. Abot 200m down the road we turned off the beachfront and headed down a side street to a great authentic Mexican place. They didn’t even serve beer, so proper Mexican! They were cooking up what looked like a giant tortilla folded in half with loads of filling, cheese melting out the sides, and massive. The tortilla was almost like a very thin pizza base. I hadn’t seen this before so asked the server what it was, and she pointed to the menu as showed us the tlayudas section. I had no idea about this so we both ordered, and it was ridiculous. It was pretty much 2 full meals each. Anyway, the leftovers would be breakfast taken care of and as we had a fridge in our room, we could keep it fresh, alongside the cheap beers from the OXXO. Dinner done, breakfast in the fridge, it was time to pop down to Jackson’s Bar for a catch up with the man himself, particularly as he advised of us an absolutely wicked accommodation set up. We ordered 2 specials and were promptly informed that he had a different special on now. Rather than a beer and mezcal for MXN90, it was now a mezcal and a beer for MXN90. He only did 2 specials, and we were lucky enough to be there for the 2nd special. It was a fun evening, but after such an early start, a long day riding in the heat, dinner, and now a few more of Jackson’s various specials, it was time to hit the sack and we would be back for round 2 the next evening. It wasn’t too late when we got in and we were out cold before long.

Day 20 - Romana Palace, Acapulco

The number 1 attraction for us on our rest day, was to see the cliff divers of Acapulco. Everyone knows about these guys, bloody nutters, and we wanted to get the full experience. However, it was still super-hot and whilst we were happy to ride the bikes over to the location where they do the diving, we were not that keen on watching the earlier shows during the day, as it was just too hot to be out and about. We wanted to be at the beach, or by the pool, with a frosty beverage. From our experience the day before we knew the main beach wasn’t great for swimming as the water was a bit dirty, although the beaches themselves look fabulous. But before setting out for the day, we wanted to take a ride around town in the morning before it got too hot to see what we could see. We rode up to a high point across the bay from the hotel to get a great vantage point to look down on to Acapulco Bay and from that height, it looked great. It was only when you looked closer and went down onto the main drag along the beachfront when you could really see the damage. It was still very pretty, but just a bit tired and in need of some attention. We were also quick to notice that we were the only gringos we had seen the whole time the day before. It is clearly not the tourist destination it once was, but we made do and headed for the opposite end of the main beach than we had spent time at the previous afternoon. It was very nice, and again, we were offered a seat under an umbrella, very nice. We ordered 2 beers, which should cost around MXN75 each, but when we wanted to leave, the chap said we owed him MXN250 for the chairs and the umbrella, as well as the beers. I had a bit of a struggle with this as there was no clarification from him that we would have to pay for the umbrella and the chairs and that he should have explained that before he offered them to us. Another chap come over and tried to mediate, but in the end, I gave him MXN200 (because that’s what I had), and we settled on the fact that I was just some dumb gringo who didn’t know how things worked.

We were aiming for a different part of town where we hoped we might find some small coves and beaches to chill out before the cliff diving started at around 7pm. However, these little coves and beaches were not only absolutely rammed with people, but they were dirty, and little appeared to have been done to tidy up after the hurricane. There were still trees lying around and boats smashed up in car parks, and just a general sense of decay. We both started to get a little frustrated as riding around in the heat and then not finding anything was becoming disheartening. We hadn’t eaten lunch yet and as it was getting well into the afternoon, we decided to pack in our exploring, which was pretty disappointing, and head back to the hotel for a swim in the pool, before cleaning up and heading out for the cliff diving.

We had found that there is a restaurant called Le Perle, which has a fantastic view of the divers, right from your table. It cost MXN200 per person and that got you 1 local beer, so not too bad, and the food was pretty good too. It got quite busy, and we stayed for around 2 hours, so got to watch 2 sessions of diving. It is mad impressive what these guys do, and not something that I think I would ever have the gonads to try. Jorik even managed to get some drone footage of the area, which was great, but used up too much battery before the divers started, so we didn’t get any drone footage of them diving. It was a great evening and probably saved our experience of Acapulco, which until then had been shear disappointment. Back at the hotel, we popped down to the local bar to see if Paco was about for a nightcap, but as he was clearly not working, we headed back to the hotel for a good night’s kip.

Day 19 - Villa del Pescador, Zihuatanejo

We were up at a reasonable hour as we knew we had a relatively big ride in front of us to get to Acapulco. We took the road along the main drag through town to get back on to Highway 200 to head east. The route we planned to take was about 150 miles and whilst the road was nowhere near as scenic and was mainly just highway for most of the day, we made pretty good time. The bikes were going well, and we were keen to see what the situation with Acapulco would be like. We had heard that a hurricane had pretty much ripped it apart in October last year and that almost 80% of the hotels and local business had been destroyed. But as it had been at least 6 months, we were expecting that there would have been some progress made with the clear up and to get the tourism industry back up and running. We would have to see. We pulled in at a couple of great viewing areas to get some drone footage and take a break from the heat. It was ridiculously hot, in fact my temp gauge on the bike was saying that it was 45 degrees centigrade, which might be a bit distorted, but it was frigging hot. At one of these little pull in arrangements, we had just passed a vespa scooter fully loaded and as we overtook the chap, he was not travelling very fast, and pulled into the viewing area, we waved him in for a chat so we could meet him. His name is Gregorio, and he explained that he is from Spain. He started out his trip in Maimi, travelled north to Canda and then all the way north to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska on his scooter. He is now headed south, all the way south through Central America and South America to Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. He would then like to ship the scooter across to Cape Town, South Africa and ride north through Africa back to his home in Spain. I was able to tell him a bit about my previous trip, although I was quick to clarify that it had been nearly 20 years since I did the Africa motorbike trip. we managed to get some drone footage of him and his bike whilst we were at the viewing point. We haven’t managed to figure out how the drone can “follow me” at a reasonable speed. We have tried a couple of times, but it just doesn’t have the speed to keep up whilst riding sensibly. However, we probably could have sorted the “follow me” function for the scooter guy. He was going to take at least another year to reach the tip of South America, or maybe even just Acapulco. We waved goodbye to Gregorio and pressed on for Acapulco. About 45 minutes outside of Acapulco, we were crossing a bridge into a town called Coyuca de Benitez, where loads of people were down on the riverbanks enjoying the sunshine and having what looked like a massive BBQ. In addition, the town on the opposite riverbank from us, had a load of very colourful houses that climbed up the hill. We both immediately acknowledged that we needed to stop and get some pictures of this, it was too good to miss. We rode back across the bridge and found our way down to the river side. It was absolutely heaving with people, probably because it was a Sunday. I have completely lost track of the date and what day it is, but I think we got lucky on this occasion as it was quite the spectacle. As Jorik had kindly paid for 2 nights’ accommodation in Cabo San Lucas, I offered to pick up the tab for the 2 nights that we would stay in Acapulco, which seemed fair and reasonable. We had looked online and found a place called the Romano Palace, which was only a 3-star hotel, but close to the main beach and the pictures of the rooms looked like it would be pretty good. We pulled into Acapulco around 3pm, very hot and bothered, but knowing that we had a nice hotel to chill out in, complete with a pool and right next to the beach, the last hard slog had been bearable. The damage to many of the buildings, including hotels, restaurants, and houses, is clearly evident. We rode down the main beachfront road and some of the restaurants are just piles of rubble with smashed up wood and palm fronds that are used for the roofing. It was pretty surprising to see just how much damage had been done. Some of the hotels were in various stages of repair, but you could see whole sides of buildings had been damaged and with the building standards in Mexico being pretty bloody sketchy anyway, I was glad to see that the Romana Palace looked like it was still standing firm. We eventually got the room sorted, there is no need for rushing in Mexico, particularly if it is a hotel receptionist, and we got the bikes secured in the private car park, before heading up to the 10th floor where our room was situated. Not ideal as it appeared only 1 elevator was working, and we had to do a number of trips to get all of our stuff sorted out. Once settled, we donned our swimmers and headed out to catch the evening sun and grab a swim in the sea. We walked straight down to the beach just opposite the hotel, which looked very nice from our balcony, and we were immediately invited to sit at a table under an umbrella and we ordered 2 cervezas. We know that sitting under an umbrella will come with a charge, but it was so bloody hot that we needed the shade. I shot straight down to the water for a swim, but very quickly saw just how filthy the water was. There were all kinds of crap in the sea, from plastic bags and bits of rubbish, to just having a generally brown and dirty look about it. I did take a dip, but it was a very quick dip and didn’t put my head in the water. I then headed back to the table in the shade and my ice cold cerveza. It didn’t take Jorik long to notice that this was definitely the gay section of the beach. There were a few pride flags up, but once we took the time to actually have a look at the people around us, it was evident that this was the gay section of the beach. We finished up our beers and decided to head to another, smaller beach where we hoped the water might be clearer. It required that we climb over some rocks to get round to the beach, and rather than walk back up the steps to the main road and then back down again, we fancied the challenge of scrambling over the rocks. When we got closer and had a look, it looked a bit too much for us and we turned around to walk back, when a chap came over and in pretty broken English explained that he knew the route and would take us across the rocks. So, we followed him and sure enough, he lead us through the rocks and round to the next beach, all whilst giving a non-stop commentary of who knows what! He did not stop talking once. He then wanted paying when we got to the other side, which we suggested was not going to happen and we wondered off, leaving him talking to himself. The next, smaller beach was clearly a private beach for the hotel that fronted it. Everyone on the beach had a wrist band and we felt that this was not where we wanted to be. So, we got off the beach and went back up the steps to the main road and carried on down the beach a bit further. We grabbed a couple of beers from the local OXXO and then climbed back down the steps, there are a lot of steps in Acapulco, and found a great beach with barley anyone on it. The water was a little clearer, but still not great. We swam, drank our beers and then headed back to the hotel for a swim to wash the salt off before a shower and then out on the town from some dinner. The theme of the Romana Palace is for some bizarre reason, Italy. There were loads of tacky sculptures and mosaics of Italian scenes, one of the main mosaics in the lobby, which was massive with marble floors and columns, had a date of 1974 on it, so at some point back in the 70’s, this was probably a very nice hotel. Now, not so much. The pool expressed this lack of upkeep and maintenance. The tiles were cracked and the whole area was pretty shabby. I appreciate that they may have had a storm come through there not long before us, but make an effort! The pool was on level 3 of the hotel so the balcony around the pool overlooks the main beachfront road along the beach. Whilst drying off with a beer, we saw Gregorio ride past on his scooter. We tried calling to him, but he wouldn’t have heard us, but to think that we had already been at the hotel for about 3, maybe even 4 hours, and here he came bumbling along, he must really be travelling slowly.

Once refreshed, we headed out to find some food and a couple of evening drinks. We passed a bunch of restaurants along the beachfront, and whilst some were open, there is still a lot of work going on to restore them. We did find a great little spot and the barman, who has worked in Acapulco as a barman for over 30 years – Paco – enticed us in for a drink at his bar. The menu looked nice, but maybe a little expensive, and we didn’t want to simply eat at the first place that we stopped at. So, we had a beer and then moved down the road to see what else we could find. As it happened, nothing of note, so we turned around and went back to Paco. We had a great evening chatting with him and the owner of the restaurant, had a great meal, and then headed back for a good night’s sleep. The next day was a rest day as we wanted to take in the sights of Acapulco.

Day 18 - Brisa Bliss, San Juan de Alima

We were aiming for Acapulco, but there was no chance if making it in a single day, it was simply too far. So, we found a little spot called Zihuatanejo near Ixtapa that appeared to be about halfway between San Juan de Alima and Acapulco and looking on google maps, it promised to be an excellent road for riding and for the opportunity to get some great footage. Even though we wouldn’t be taking on a big day’s ride, we were up early enough to grab breakfast at the guest house and be on the road for around 09:00. We were not disappointed by the ride. Almost straight from the get-go, the twisty mountain passes along the coast were just amazing, super fun to ride and the condition of the actual road surface was good enough for us to trust that there were limited potholes so we could really get into the riding. The front brakes certainly had a workout as some of the corners tighten up on you when you don’t have enough visibility to check your speed. It was exhilarating, probably the best riding for a sustained period of around 2 hours, that I have every done, amazing and so enjoyable. However, we came across a car that was travelling in the opposite direction that had not gauged the speed at which to take the turns appropriately and smashed into the side of a cliff face. It must have happened less than 2 minutes before we got there, as the chap was climbing out the car as we rode past him. I immediately stopped to check on him in a pretty hairy place as there was no verge, just the carriageway and then basically jungle on my right towards the sea, and then a mountain on the left. There was a massive log jammed under the front of his car, which I suppose may have been in the road and he hit it. I managed to drag the log out from under what was left of his front bumper whilst he was flapping on about his arm, which was a bit banged up. The car was still running and after seeing that the front wheels were definitely not facing in the same direction, it was clear that this dude was up shit creek without a paddle. There was nothing we could really do for him. I think he was asking us to take him up the pass (in the opposite direction) so he could get cell phone signal, but that was not going to happen. Jorik had found a spot to turn around and arrived by now and was also having a look at the car. As we still had our helmets on, we could talk to each other through the comms system. Jorik also felt we should press on, particularly as we had both spotted an open can of modelo beer in the centre consol. We jumped back on the bikes and carried on riding through some glorious twisties in fantastic scenery. As the day wore on, the fantastic turns and scenery kind of dried up and we were slogging on highways again, which was not great, but allowed us to make good milage and time up. It was seriously hot, and we pulled off the main road, down a dirt track to have a coke break at what we hoped would be a little café or something at the beach. We kind of took a wrong turn and just rode down a dirt track that was actually a kind of private track to a little camping spot, which looked like it was straight out of a movie set. Just 1 local geezer and his Conchita chilling in a little house that they have created a covered restaurant out the front, and a levelled area to the side with palm trees for his campsite. The beach was right across from him on a beautiful stretch of coast. He had even built a little sun shelter on the beach. He heard that we were talking English so started to chat to us in English. He had lived in LA for about 5 years and decided to pack it in and get this little spot in heaven. Smart move my man; it was just awesome. Whilst sucking back on our cokes, 2 gringos walked over the sand dunes and arrived at the restaurant. They were Americans following a surf trip that they had taken like 30 years before and checking out how it had changed in that time. Jorik mentioned that he had done some travelling through Mexico and Central America back in the 90’s as well, which was a cool connection. They didn’t hang around for anything to eat or drink and moved on down the road. But as a parting shot, one of the chaps mentioned that there was a bridge coming up in about 5-10 minutes ride that we should be aware of as there is a bit of a hole/ditch between where the road and the bridge meet. It might not be too bad, but they had hit it in the car, and it didn’t feel great, so hitting it at pace on a motorcycle might be a little sketchy. Back on the road, and with the warning freshly in our minds, we clocked the ditch before we got to the bridge and were able to cross into the oncoming traffic lane and clear it with it ease. Nice 1 lads! It turned out to be a long day. The google map we uploaded suggests that it would take about 7 hours and 13 minutes to ride the 205 miles. We smashed it in about 6 hours. However, 6 hours riding in that heat was brutal. We had to stop numerous times to top up the water bags and just catch our breaths. We had originally thought we might stay in Lazaro Cardenes, which looked like a pretty sizable town and was pretty much bang on halfway between San Juan de Alima and Acapulco. But when we arrived in Lazaro Cardens, it was not just a sizable town, it was pretty massive and a load of industrial activity was going, particularly as it looked like a big shipping port. We both quickly confirmed that we could ride for an hour or so to make it Zihuatanejo, where we expected a much nicer vibe. We were not disappointed. The ride into town took as a back route along a wicked concrete road that allowed us to climb down from the top of a pretty serious hill, down into the bay area, and our hotel for the night, the Villa del Pescador. We were both pretty knackered and sweaty as hell, but the hotel had a great infinity pool that overlooked the bay and all the boats on the first floor, the reception a little up from that, and our room on what was referred to as the fourth floor but was actually like the sixth floor. And you guessed it, no elevator. So, after huffing and puffing our way up to the room with all our crap, we were quick to have our daily toast of tequila, change into our swimmers and get busy getting cooled down in the pool with an ice cold cerveza. Overlooking the bay whilst cooling off, it quickly become evident that this was a cool town and we needed to explore a bit on the bikes to have a look around before we lost the afternoon sun. We pulled up right on the beachfront in a little car park. A street vendor moved his little cart so I could squeeze in behind him and he then blocked the bikes with his little cart, and we knew he would keep an eye on things, not that we were concerned, but the extra security doesn’t go amiss. A great little town with a very clean and busy set up with loads of shops, restaurants and bars along the beachfront. A bit touristy, but there weren’t many foreigners. We had dinner at a little spot, a few streets back from the beachfront, which we always feel will be a little bit cheaper and maybe a bit more authentic. We then walked back to the bikes and headed back to the hotel. The route took us back along the main beachfront road due to the one-way system and we rode past a load of military bikes with the lights going. Jorik jumped off his bike with his camera and took a quick little video of me behind them. For those sharp enough, you might have caught a little reference to CHIPS in one of our social media posts. Back to the hotel and bed after a long day in the heat, but a great little spot and it should certainly be on your list if you visit this part of Mexico.

Day 17 - Posada del Pescador, Jocotepec

I wasn’t that keen on the cleanliness of the hotel. When I was getting into bed the night before, it looked like the sheets hadn’t been changed as there was sand and hair in the bed, long black hair, Mexican hair, which clearly wasn’t ideal. I refused to sleep under the sheet and ensured that I had my jammies on, including socks so that the least amount of contact was made with the bedding. We had a fan in the room, which was a bonus, but when I got up, I found a cockroach on the floor that was on its back and waving its legs around. It was a lot for me, a clean freak, to see that there were likely cockroaches flying around in the night that could have been crawling on me. Not cool. As there were no facilities at the hotel, such as a restaurant, or somewhere to get some coffee, we wanted to be up and, on the road, early as we were aiming for the coastline again. Unfortunately, having fulfilled our morning ablution needs, basically taking a dump, the water ran out so the toilet wouldn’t flush after it had been destroyed. A little bit embarrassing, but hey how, it is not really our problem, Jorik pulled a few pots and pans of water from the pool, and we found that the kitchen tap had a dribble of water coming out of it. We tried as best we could to tidy up but were ready to leave by around 09:30 with the toilet looking pretty horrific. We wanted to top up the brake fluid and check a few bits on the bikes before heading off, so we had about 20 minutes of prep to do. Just before departing, we checked again, and the water had come back on. Thankfully we were able to clear the toilet and not leave a mess for the staff.

The aim for the day was a little town called San Juan de Alima, a beachside resort town that appeared to have loads of hotels. Google identified a little guest house at the outskirts of the small town for about MXN$1,300 for a twin room, which was a little on the expensive side for us but looked to be at the cheaper end of the scale for the town. We didn’t book it, as we thought we might be able to get a better price, rather than paying booking fees, so the plan was to turn up and see what we would find.

The ride south from Jocotepec wasn’t exceptional. A long way at a little over 4 hours in blazing heat again. It did get a little cooler as we neared the coast, but it wasn’t the most spectacular ride, just loads of highway, which was broken up by passing through the odd little town. Colima was a pretty busy place, but we shot through it heading for the coast to make up the miles. As soon as we did get to the coast, which wasn’t for very long, we found San Juan de Alima was just off the main highway that follows the coast line towards Acapulco, so a good stop and great to get us back on track for the next day. Our original programme and itinerary had become mixed up a bit, what with the detour to Tequila and just generally making up plans as to where to stop and stay as we go. But when I checked, Day 17 was supposed to be in San Juan de Alima, so we were bang on track. I was surprised, but very pleased and I am conscious that things can drag out on these trips and delays are almost inevitable, so being on programme, was a relief to me.

We pulled off the main road into the little village to find our hotel. Which, as we suspected, was at the edge of the town, and not the nice end, in fact probably the pretty derelict end. But it was clean and had a pool that overlooked the sea. So not all bad. The very nice Senorita explained that it would be MXN$1350 for the night, but as she didn’t speak any English, we managed to negotiate this down to MXN£1,200, which was a couple of beers saving, so a win. We got settled into our room, which was pleasant enough, had a fan and AC, and more plug sockets than you could shake a stick at. 1 wall had 5 randomly positioned double sockets that were so bizarrely positioned, there is simply no explanation as to why they would have been installed, that I had to take a picture. With the room sorted, having had a swim in the pool, and a couple of beers in hand, we set off to explore the town and find some food. We had also finished the bottle of Cazadores Tequila the night before and we needed a new bottle, Don Julio, so that Jules can earn her heritage after the bottle of Cazadores from which Cassy has taken her name. It is clear that this town too must have been a very popular resort in its day, but following hurricane and economic impacts, the place was not in great shape. A lot of the buildings are not just dilapidated, but they should be condemned. I suppose that is just how things are in Mexico, but it was still quite a pretty little town and there was clearly a lot of Mexican people enjoying themselves. Absolutely no other Gringos, but everyone was very friendly. The first shop we passed, we checked out how much a bottle of Don Julio would be and the cheapest came in at about MXN$850. That is about US$50, which is a little dear for our budget, and besides, we didn’t want to carry the bottle with us for the rest of the evening as we still needed to find somewhere for some food. At least we had a reference for the cost of a standard bottle of Don Julio Blanco. We walked down the beach until we hit the end of the resorts where the damage and dilapidations were too bad for there to be any guests. So, we hit the main drag in town to see what we could find for food. A very friendly chap in a large restaurant invited us in for steaks and fish, his speciality. We didn’t want to stop at the first place so kindly walked on a bit further, but quickly realised that his spot was probably going to offer us the best options. As the town wasn’t very big, we were able to check out all the options, including a street food place where we were pretty much ignored, even though we sat down waiting to be served, so we headed back to the friendly chap who at least spoke to us in English. He was very keen to explain that they specialised in fish, but when I said that I am allergic to shellfish, he quickly shifted gear to tell me about the steak options he had. I haven’t eaten any straight up steak in Mexico yet, but nervous of the quality and the cost, I asked if I could see the steak. He pulled out a very nice 12oz ribeye that was partially frozen, a good sign I hoped, and said that he would cook up a treat for MXN$250, expensive, but not too bad a deal. Jorik had a whole fish, a red snapper (we think), which was also awesome, and it turned out to be probably the best meal we have had on the trip to date. They had a little supermarket on the side of the restaurant, and we checked out how much a bottle of Don Julio was. We were surprised that it cost MXN$750 for a Reposado bottle, which is much better. However, we didn’t have enough cash on us to pay for dinner and the tequila, so we settled up and had enough change to stop for 1 more cerveza and a shot of the good stuff on the way back to the hotel.

Day 16 - Hotel Colonial, Tequila

The hotel room was less than ideal. It was hot and the room didn’t have any AC, and whilst there was a roof fan, of course, it didn’t work. So, we had to sleep with the window open and the noise from the street was ridiculous during the night. People were driving up and down with music blaring, horns going and just generally making a racket. Even the church bells started going off at stupid o’clock in the morning. I was woken at about 05:30 and could tell that Jorik had also had a pretty bad night. As his bed was positioned closest to the window, he had also taken the brunt of the mosquitoes during the night so was a little grouchy. However, it was the day for the tequila tour, and we were going to head to the oldest tequila manufacturer in the world, Jose Cuervo. We grabbed some breakfast and a very tasty mango smoothy in the main square, and then had a little wonder around town until 10:00, which was when we could purchase the tickets for the tour. Whilst we had been to the tequila museum the day before, which wasn’t particularly interesting, we were excited to learn more. Jose Cuervo was the tequila that both Jorik and I pretty much drank when we met back in Cape Town in the early 90’s, so has been part of our lives for a very long time. Anyone that knows us, will know that we are big tequila fans so being able to tour the factory was going to be a treat. The facilities are awesome, a beautiful building with cobbled streets out the front complete with bunting and planting. Very cool set up. We didn’t pay for the full tour. We knew we would be riding and the more you paid, the more tequila you got to drink. So, we got the classic tour for about MXN$350 each, which would include some tequila tasting, but not the follow up session in the Jose Cuervo bar at the end of the tour. There were about 10 people on the tour, mainly Americans, and a Romania lady that was married to 1 of the Americans. Everyone was very interested and whilst I tried to do some filming on the GoPro mini, which has been playing up terribly, the bloody thing ran out of battery about quarter of the way into the tour. Still, it was interesting, and we learned a lot more about how long it takes for the blue agave cactus to mature, how they harvest the “heart” of the plant, which looks a lot like a pineapple once it is cleared of the leaves, and then how they steam and process the plant to make the actual tequila. Whilst tequila can only be called tequila if it is manufactured in the region of Tequila, there are 2 different processes. 100% Agave tequila is the pure stuff, which is made with just the blue agave with no added sugars. Normal tequila, like Jose Cuervo Especial, is only good for cocktails and mixers as it contains other sugars that are added to the process, making it less than ideal as a sipping tequila. So, we have been doing that wrong for about 30 years and from now on, all tequila that I drink will be 100% agave tequila, and we will leave the cheap stuff for the margaritas.

Having finished the very interesting tour at a little after 12:00, we headed back to the Hotel to get packed up and hit the road.

We were aiming to get at least 2 hours further along, which would take us past Guadalajara to a massive lake called Lago de Chapala, where we figured we would be able to find a guest house on the shore. It was still ridiculously hot and instead of skirting Guadalajara, the sat nav took us right into the heart of the city, which is massive and a real hive of activity. We saw an AutoZone (parts shop) and pulled in to grab some brake fluid and to see if we could replace the inner tube that had blown on Jules when arriving at La Paz some time before. We found the Dot 4 brake fluid easy enough, but whilst trying to explain to the guy in the shop in very broken English and with the assistance of google translate, a very friendly customer came over to us to ask if he could help. He rides a Harley and mentioned that his friend, a Harley mechanic, was due to be at his house in like 5 minutes time and that he would ask him if he could help us. He didn’t have to do that and to be honest, we still had a spare tube, the one that we had pinched had been repaired, but we politely agreed to wait outside the AutoZone for his friend to turn up. Sure enough, about 10 minutes later a Harly came busting into the car park and young chap called Orlando (his name was on his shirt) arrived to see if he could help us out. He got on the phone to a mate of his and within a few minutes had ensured us that there was a spare tube waiting for us at a motorcycle spares shop nearby. However, it was around 20 minutes ride back into the heart of Guadalajara and as we now know that it is easy enough to get a spare tube, particularly as our bikes have pretty standard sized tires, there was no real need, and we certainly didn’t have the desire to spend another hour or so in traffic, we decided to push on for Lago de Chapala to the south.

We arrived at what is clearly a relatively affluent area as there were some pretty impressive ‘casas’ dotted along the shoreline. There was still the standard crap and run down feel to a lot of the buildings, but parts of it were really quite surprising. We pulled in for a drink and some food at what turned out to be a very nice little roadside restaurant and checked the map for a suitable location for the night. It looked to us like Jocotepec would be a good call and we found a hotel called Posada del Pescador that appeared to have a few good reviews, so we headed for it following a bit of food and a cool down from the riding. The hotel looked pretty good from first appearances. There was a pool, although when I looked at it, it was a touch too green for my liking and didn’t look that inviting. It must have been a very nice hotel at some point, but that might have been a long time ago as again, it looked pretty run down. Still, at MXN$1,300, it was in our ballpark for cost, and we were too knackered to mission around to find another hotel. We eventually got settled into a nice big room with a kitchenette and big shower, Jorik had a swim, I was still not going in the water, and we got ourselves cleaned up and ready for a trip to the lakeside before we lost the sunlight.

The lakeside had a bunch of little shacks and restaurants dotted along the promenade, so we grabbed a beer, did a little video chat, and took in the sights for an hour or so. Jorik did some googling and found that Jocotepec was settled by the Mayans a long time ago and that they had even practiced human sacrifices there. There were starting to be signs of Mayan influence in the sculptures and some of the features along the waterfront area, so we must be getting closer to seeing some of the more historical areas that we are keen to see along this trip. So far there haven’t been many opportunities to see temples or other historical things, but hopefully this picks up now as we near Guatemala.

As we lost the light and following a few pictures with the bikes and the lake as a backdrop, we headed back to the hotel. There wasn’t much going on in Jocotepec, so we managed a good session of catching up with video and photo editing, and I smashed out a few more days of the blog. The time taken to write this shit up is much longer than I had anticipated, and you need clear headspace to focus on it. I think it is even more work for Jorik with all the video editing and we have so much footage, that this might take some time to pull together everything into a format that really shows what we are doing. But that can wait for another time.

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.