Mar de Cortez

Posting from a bar on the sea of Cortez. Last stop for libations before Laredo, as we drank all the Tecates at the little shop 30 k's from here. We have actually back tracked since Christmas. Friends from Oakland enticed us to Coyote beach for some beach lounging,  fire top fish cooking,  and inflatable boat paddling,  in December. How could Tryman refuse. Our bags we left in Laredo. Planning on fast and light to cut our efforts in the prevailing north wind as much as possible. Ambitious but rubbish,  we had to make camp half way to the beach. Trevor ' s tires have been turning into spike balls,  shredding every inner tube in sight. They are regular thorn magnets here in the desert,  home of every thing spiky. He is a champ,  readying this morning,  carefully patching the five punctured tunes draped over his handlebars, while the two he has installed deflate just from sitting there. Cool thing is the patch kits you buy here are in huge boxes of forty-eight! And feature the moniquer "thumbs up" a little reminder that even the least rad day on a bike trip is still really rad.
Sun setting,  I leave you to imagine the waves crashing and the pelicans diving. I have a kilometer to ride before our next camp, and photo uploads are discouraged in the land of satellite wifi!

First coffee in a long time

Out of the hot springs and into the highway

We are back on hw 1,  swarmed by vans with surfboards on top,  tractor trailers and other dwellers of the fast road. The hot springs were expressly amazing.  Totally worth climbing into the freezing altitudes,  and barreling down the straits for.  Two days were spent,  and un countable liters of Pacifico cerveza passed back around. The road to and from was delightful, then we passed by Gonzaga, where the winter winds whipped up the sand and dust, forcing us to hide behind bandanas. A sandy highway  in mid construction marked the next phase of travel, a part we were warned about,  it was now time to pay the piper.
A few kilometers of sand road gave way to hard pack,  with lots of sharp rocks.  Our compatriot Carol quickly  got the idea that this was un passable, and we flagged her a lift in the last jeep of the day.  Tryman pushed foreword, gaining elevation by hook or crook,  and we got a pristine camp spot with all the splendors of Baja in view. Trevor,  our chef de cuisine found a great nook to break the wind for him,  and our kingly meal of beans and tortillas was had under full moon light. Ten kilometers into the next day,  we happened by a desert oasis. Cold, cold beers in a fridge and a stopping spot for locals,  Coco's corner,  half way between nowhere and somewhere was a mighty good place to sit. Coco,  a legend in the off road community welcomed us in,  saying he had been waiting for for us for two days. news travels faster than bikes on the road. He scribed on our map, marked a few places that were good to camp,  and then had us sign his guest book. He pointed out all the bicycle riders from the past few years, there was one just 12 days before. A truck then come into the lot,  the passenger had just completed in year's running of the Baja 1000,  Coco offered us for them a lift in their off road prepared truck,  and with Simons and Trevor convincing,  I let my bike be stacked like a piece of pie on display, and we were carried up the road at an awesome speed.

San Felipe to puertecitos

Lots of ideas come and go while biking, the hard part is catching them before you stop peddling and they leave.  I'm working on that  so for now,  it has been amazing few days, leaving Ensenada to bike over the Sierra Juarez,  camping at 4,000 feet elevation. So made San Filepe, and are continuing to puertecitos,  for a soak in seaside hot springs. Our comrade is Caroline, I'll let her blog speak for her found here http://www.thequietmouthofcaroline.com
Picture of our water re up.
Ty

Bike to San Felipe

We are headed to San Felipe.  Promise of a road less traveled and some hot springs has us topping up  our water bags, and stuffing cans of beans under our saddles.  More info to follow.
Tryman bicycle.

Out of order, getting toward the border

The next week was a cushy blur. Riding out of the California Valley was an all day affair.  The peak elevation of five thousand feet was achieved with in a few miles,  the rest of the day was along the ridge,  and into some valleys. An interesting bit from our perspective,  the caltran trucks were on the road plowing. It had snowed a little the night before,  but nothing that was still around. Yet the trucks would come,  some times in groups of three, plows down scraping off the road ,  a most terrifying experience as someone who rides on the painted white line.
Four pm found us looking out at the ocean,  with  nothing but a serpentine road and a few thousand feet to descend.  We cruzed into Ojai singing a round of Barrett's Privateers,  then down the Ventura bike path to our host for the evening. A bounty of Ojai oranges was found in a small orange grove by some oil dereks.

Day 2: The road to Ensenada

Once again getting the boot on the toll road, we discovered the parallel road to be lovely and stayed on that - not overly concerning ourselves with the signs that said the road was closed for 16k outside Ensenada for construction. Bikes must be able to get through, right? We´d find out in 50k. After a gorgeous afternoon of coastal riding and lots of friendly shouts and smiles from pedestrians and passing traffic, we arrived at the road closure. A group of about ten men flagged us down and informed us that we could not continue. We must take the 3 well around and cut back to Ensenada. A significant detour. We discussed further and they decided we could take a chance - but watch out for the maquinas. We pressed on. And were rewarded with an totally open road ranging from pristine pave to loose gravel. Everyu mile or so we came upon a construction tema that either cheered us on or stared slightly disapprovingly as we smiled and glided by with - ¨Buenas tardes - Gracias - El camino esta hermosa, bien hecho!" It was a fun ride, all the more so for the joy of knowing we were getting away with something.

We arrived in Ensenada, I broke a spoke riding into the parking lot of our hotel, grabbed a few Cerveza Indios, did some maintenance and called it a day.

Day 1: Which way to Mexico?

We set out from San Diego for the border around 7:30, hoping to get into and out of Tijuana in short order. Fantasy. First of all, none of us really looked at the precise directions to the border corssing. It should be simple, right - Mexico is that way -->. Mas alla. It was in fact simple, but we must have all had the jitters - but after a bit of a run around we took the new pedestrian bridge to the turnstile out of the USA. A few ramps and bike wheelying maneuvers put us down in Tijuana. We were in Mexico. But wait - nobody asked us for our passports. Don´t we need a visa or something? We parked the bikes and sent a delegation - Carol and I - to investigate. Ultimately we sort of snuck back half way into the US past armed guards who realized somewhat late what we were up to and kind of awkwardly ignored us while waltzed past with half raised hands to show we at least were harmless idiots if nothing else. We found a desk, got our papers, warned the guard that a couple more idiots had to come through and that was it. We were in.

After a conference over a Tecate in the nearest plaza we decided on a tentative route through the city to get on the Scenic Toll Road. We had mixed data on whether or not bikes were allowed. We gave it shot. >Riding happily along the wide road with an eight foot shoulder with a gradually decreasing quantity of glass, we thought we had done it. Nope. A guard stepped out and politely informed us that we could not be here. After a moment he informed us that though we could not go through at this point, we could go up a mile and sneak onto the road. Thus we found ourselves joyfully breaking federal law within an hour of arriving, skirting a broken barb wire fence to get back on the road to Rosarito. We arrived just before sundown, had some tacos and got a large room for the not so modest price of $550 (pesos) - around $50 dollars.

Last call for bike bits and micro brews: San Diego. Ty and I had a nice train day from Riverside to Oceanside via L.A. Visited and camped outside Stone brewing and rode next morning into San Diego. Trevor and Carol joined us up at our amazing WarmShowers casita just outside Normal Heights. We did two days bike maintenance and prep and crossed the border on Wednesday.

photos

this blog needs more random pictures. so here's a few good ones in no particular order

More California than you can poke a stick at

So I was laid over in San Francisco  for a few weeks. Bringing all my possession to a point of rest,  or I to new hands. A week out I bought a bike,  and then stitched up some saddle bags.  To meet the advanced party in the middle part of the state some maneuvers were ahead.  A train was my best bet to catch them up,  but to shore my bet I made the reunion sight the carrizo plain. Lying on the San Andreas fault, the carrizo stretches 40 miles north to South and is defined by two mountain ranges. Oil fields to the east, and Pacific ocean west can't been seen or accessed from the plane without a climb out. The result is astounding quiet,  and a insulating feeling.
So I hopped on a San juaquin amtrak,  Trevor and Simon biked out of SLO, and the three stooges were a together again.
Beans and greens cooked over a fire,  bacon and whisky cold for breakfast. It rained a good rain over the night,  and we rode out of the plain the next day through wind and fog. The valley continued south, as the dirt road changed to hw 33. The popping metropolis of Ventucopa was my first water stop in 80 miles.  Marked by two merchants,  the Pistachio Store,  who wowed us with covered bike parking and ample picnic tables, but fell short of  coffee. 'only one pot per day' was their policy. Mugs still empty, we roved another minute to 'The Place'.  Located in quite the middle of nowhere, the promised coffee and home made pie was right in line with the needs of anybody who found themselves there. They also had wants covered as well,  the bartender asked us put a log on the fire,  so with 'schooner sized beers,  we sat down and stoked the umber to a bright blaze,  the lemon wood we were burning smelled sweetly,  and reminded us of the wondrous bounty California has for the picking. 

We camped in the yard,  and in the morning, after a final pour of counter top caffeine we rode towards the days peaks.