The rest of the ride up the baja was so crazy. Pulled over at the side of the road taking a picture, a multi-millionaire ex-olympian in his 40s pulls up, says “hey, I have a ktm 950 motorbike, let’s go get a beer!” I drop my bike off at his place, he offers a guest room, and we go to a “yacht party” at this little bay in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Rich old white folks who all sailed to this remote bay, all getting absolutely loaded, out of their minds, jumping around like kids, at this little harbour. It was a fundraiser for a local school. Nothing says “hey let’s get drunker than john daly at the guinness brewery” like a rich peoples’ yacht party fundraiser in mexico. Never heard more insane stories about revelry and mischief than for my cohort. Almost too ridiculous to believe.

Next day I met two old bikers at a gas station who were also on their way back up to the border. Military vets who had ridden the baja for 20 years. Most hardass two guys I’ve ever met in my whole life, by far. They were also federal police, off duty so to speak. Under armed escort, safest two days of this trip.

Mexico is so varied. From the desert, the cities, colonial towns, the coast, mountains, jungles, and the people just as unique. But the baja stands out. It’s got some mad magic. There was one section of the ride with these trees that looked like upside-down carrots that grow nowhere else in the world. I saw blue palm trees and electric red cacti. Beyond this strip was another. The terrain felt like an alien planet. There were so many different cacti of colours you wouldn’t see in a normal state of mind. The plants had such a bizarre distribution as well. It looked alien. The Venutian passage ended. Settled down in ensenada, 90 miles from the border. Next day getting through the border was a hassle and took hours.

Bike started acting up pretty bad. Woke up today and rode to a shop 11 miles away. Broke down at mile 9. Shop picked me up. My sprockets and chain are done for. But what killed the bike was that the chain got so loose it shredded the ignition wires. Bike will be ready tomorrow. The mechanic is letting me camp in his backyard. This neighborhood in stockton california where I’m getting my bike fixed is scarier than anywhere I been in mexico. Also, the ride from the border to out of LA was the most dangerous other than houston. Saw a car accident, almost had someone change lanes into me, saw aftermath of other accidents, a brush fire, massive potholes, ripped grooved roads, drive like they want you dead, and had a truck drop a huge 4x4 brick of lumber across the lane next to me two hundred yards ahead.

Lucha libre between sushi and taco. Taco wins.

im in baja california sur, headed to southern california. baja, in this context, is spanish for ”lower”, and sur means ”south.” lower california south, heading to southern california. entering cabo san lucas, or even here in la paz, it feels a lot more like a beachfront palm springs than mexico. southern california or el paso feel more like mexico than lower california south.

cabo is ridiculously fun. it’s americanized as all hell, but if you take it for what it is it’s a blast. (relatively) really safe, tons to do, and beautiful. i met up with some friends from vancouver, watched the canucks win game 7, glorious. we took a 3-hour all inclusive boat cruise, through a beautiful bay, around land’s end, and up the coast, for about $22 canadian. seriously paradise. worry and care melted like the crushed ice in my pina colada.

donkeys by the highway are camouflaged with the landscape. exercise diligence.

for about the 4th day in a row im about 6 days away.

the tacos are still incredible, and that’s really all that matters.

Southern baja california. Feels like arizona with ocean.

Finished breakfast and walked across the square towards my bike. I saw another two bikes with canadian plates, and waited around for a minute to try catching the owners. Two burly guys with conspicuous and recognisable patches on their vests walked up to their bikes. Got chatting. So you’re from canada too eh? Nice. Don’t go back! Haha. Who ya traveling with. Alone?? Man… that’s dangerous!

WTF!!

on the way back still. went to zamora to meet up with some folks, and got invited to another two family dinners. it was really special. all was going great until someone brought out a guitar and the grandmother asked that someone play something. dreadfully, i was the only one that could play. playing in front of small groups is terrifying. the least i could do after being invited to dinner was to play awkward anglo songs that even my western families are skeptical of. anyway, kicked out a few standards, and it generally went well. i guess i broke some ice, because others elected to play afterwards, and it turned into a full-blown latin sing-song into the wee hours. more friends for life.

i arrived in san blas last night. there was a lineup on the road into town 5 kilometres long. being on a bike, i went into the empty opposing lane and blew past everyone. it’s a time of year in mexico known as ”semana santa.” families get together and, apparently, head to the beach. it was pure chaos. not a free room in the town (it’s a town of 9,000, and probably doubled this weekend). thankfully there was a campground. the sounds: guns n roses, local folk tunes, screaming babies. the square here is pretty small, but was filled with thousands of people. there were brass bands every 10 ft, fire throwers, belly dancers, and lots of beer. it was madness! i ducked into a bar on the corner of the square.

called san blas social club, a jazz bar. this place is so classic. sinatra records on the wall, rat pack pictures. run by a us expat whose parents are from guadalajara. this guy’s straight out of the 50s. he’s no older than 50. we’re chatting away. —crack— ”sniff sniff… ahhh f%$k” i look down and there’s a teabag sized foil bag with the words ”fart bomb”. sulphur permeated. right for the gringo. 

We were at Zicatela beach, the beach strip in Puerto Escondido with all the bumpin bars and clubs, getting our drink on. We got a bit hungry, and went to this great hot dog stand. The chef could barely open his blood-shot glassy eyes, inundated with cannabis. He prepared the dogs, grabbing four bins of condiments and the buns before remembering what he was looking for. One of the aussies paid ahead of time. We got our dogs paid the gent and walked off. Chef yells, ”hey, pagar (pay)!” to the aussie. I paid! No you didnt! Neither understanding a word of the other. I pulled out 25 pesos and paid the guy, as aussie was getting increasingly frustrated and angry. He starts walking towards chef, but me and other aussie grabbed him and started pulling him away. Angry aussie, googly-eyed and slurred, points to the chef as he’s pulled away and sternly advises, ”THIS IS NOT BIEN!”

Drove into mexico city by accident today. Ended up on a highway that prohibits motorcycles. Got pulled over. Gained 30 bribery exp, now a lvl 3 thief. The idea of having to bribe was fascinating.

The whole bribery/extortion thing in acapulco soured it a bit, but now bribery seems a great thing. In mexico city I paid a nominal sum, was entertained with a ballet of cops pretending to do their jobs for 20 minutes, and got to drive, illegally, under instruction of the police, through a nice grassy park to get on the proper roadway. Avoided a ticket, towing, and lugging my cargo boxes to an overpriced hotel. Bribery is awesome. We should have this. Everybody wins.

I got a ticket within 30 mins of entering texas. The ticket was standard fare, but I had the option of paying the county/judge an extra $100 to get the ticket wiped from my record. This is inefficient bribery. I had to call the judge’s office to see how much the ticket was in the first place, get a money order, and send it by registered mail. Soviet-style trickle-down bribery? No thanks. I’ll take free-market bureaucracy any day.

The first night in puerto escondido everyone in the hostel went to this great beachfront bar. I left a bit early and walked home. Approaching the hostel entrance I saw the finnish guy, shirtless and drunk as hell, running to the hostel. “Hey man how are ya?” “Good. I have to get my wallet though. I got arrested for having a beer on the street and have to pay the police lady.” Turns out while he was in cuffs he told the policewoman she was beautiful. She swooned, and became very friendly. $40 and a wink and he was a free man. Changing visas also involves bribes. Whatever. On paper, changing visas in mexico is free, at least the kind I did. The office was closed for two hours, but he took me in, we cracked jokes in basic spanish, and presto, all done. Great service.

Oaxockey

cant remember the last time i felt so carefree as the past nine days in puerto escondido. to get back on the bike was to deal with the world and its consequences.

within an hour it started raining with vengeance. the thousand-turn road was covered in slippery wet leaves. id left and hour late and was now crawling. climbing the mountain it became so foggy i couldnt see 20metres in front of me. the rain was pouring so hard my visor was practically translucent. add potholes and rivers pouring through the street. cruel mortality. i was losing time hard. to make oaxaca by nightfall i would have to ride non-stop. getting higher up the rain eased, but at almost 10000 ft it was now very cold. there were a few vistas overlooking incredible… i dont know how to describe it, but it looked like something out of tropical planet earth dvds. mountains, ferns, red rock, jungle, amazing!!!! but yeah, the fog blanketed almost all the rest. i dropped out of the mountain and into countryside, through a town, and into another town. it appeared the sun was setting. it was too early though. i looked for a hotel to check into. as i searched, i saw the sun peak out of the clouds higher than i thought it was but about as much as i expected it should be. quite a bit of time before sunset. passed the town, into a broad valley, and right into the middle of a massive thunderstorm. i looked up, and flipped out. zeus’ beard - dark reckoning plumes. 37 km to go. i heard a really strange noise, felt the back of my bike wobble hard, and my steering go awry. i was almost certain i blew my back tire. pulled off the road. nope, one of my cargo boxes fell off. ran back, rigged it up again. about a kilometre later my bike dies. stroke of luck, there was a hotel three hundred meters ahead. pushed it up. looked at my manual, troubleshooting diagnostics. it might as well have been in spanish. ate some incredible tacos. woke up and pushed my bike to across the street to a mechanic of household appliances. i tried showing him how my bike was broken. it started. what the hell. i tried starting it about ten times the night before, and three that morning. we had a laugh. getting decent at jokes in impromptu sign language.

puerto escondido has been stupendous. the whole trip has been a lot of work so far, hauling ass on highways, unloading gear, sleep, load gear, haul ass, repeat. seeing sights and experiencing american and mexican culture. socially isolated, limited interactions with the environment. a whole lot of bill murray lost in translation going on. arriving in puerto escondido was a shock. i bumped into an acquaintance from vancouver in the hostel, and him and his amigos were going down to the beach. i followed along. everybody was in the ocean, playing in the waves, laughing and having fun. not a care in the world. i got into the ocean. here i was, this was pretty much what i’d been dreaming of forever. tropical beach, surrounded by palms in a gorgeous bay, sun blasting, ocean warmer than a swimming pool.

first of all, merely communicating with people again was an adjustment. then adjusting to having fun. fun. how do i do this? i stood awkwardly in the water, dunked my head a few times, looked around at paradise, as an observer, not really interacting, not knowing how to do so. i got pretty drunk, woke up the next day, and couldnt think of a single damn troubling thing. jumping in the ocean, laughing like an idiot. there is nothing insightful to say, not to suggest anything previous was.

some pendejo is playing jack johnson. thunder in paradise.