Day 10

Day 10 Domingo, the day of rest

We walk to the Sunday market in the Arroyo and buy food for a big dinner. We also purchase some items for our 3 day kayak camping adventure, which begins at dawn tomorrow. We cruise through the old town part of Loreto and return along the Malacon where we stroll along the sea, looking toward our next day's route south. I spend much of the rest of the day posting my blog and packing. Shahe goes on a run to Nopolo and back (12 miles round trip). His demons require more pain than mine.

Day 10 Domingo, the day of rest

Day 9

Day 9 Near Ignacio's to Loreto

Predawn and just light enough to write down some of the thoughts that have escaped these pages. I think of how living this way, closer to the margin of existence makes me appreciate all life more. How I have learned to read the signs in the road, the depth of the sand that can be ridden without floundering, the difference between the coyote, fox, bobcat and puma tracks. How I sensitive I have become to the smells of a kitchen fire or a distant sea and the subtle changes in the humidity of the wind.

We listen to. the birds hidden in the brush in the hour before and after the sun rises and are filled with the peace of the desert, waiting in patience for the next rain. I think of the Californio's life. Goats, cows and dogs greet us in a variety of moods as we approach the rough, dry ranchos. I practice my Spanish on them, commenting on the day, introducing myself (especially to the dogs that chase us) in loud, exaggerated speech.

Shahe's rack is secured to his frame with twist ties and a plastic bottle cap (I never did figure out that last part), his right toe clip was broken days ago and he has fashioned a replacement out of baling wire, the zippers on his panniers are about to give up. But he doesn't. Ever resourceful and thrifty. He chooses to 'live on the edge, so that others may simply live', adapting the Gandhi quote.

I am wishing it possible to weave more of the poetry that the mind creates as I pedal. There is no way to stop to record it, it passes through me like clouds on the breeze, high above. I cannot hold these thoughts, nor share them, and they are perhaps the most beautiful part of my experience...

We stop again in San Ignacio, both hoping to see our good friend, but his brother tells us he is out somewhere working. We ask if we can get water again from his tank and while Shahe borrows some oil for his chain, I fill up my bottles and add the new chlorox. I fish a peppermint stick from last Christmas, and place it next to his toothbrush there at the side of the water tank. I think he will know....

Part way through the morning of our last (?) day's ride, we are hot and have discovered the new Chlorox is much stronger than what we had used before. We have over dosed the water and cannot drink it. We have 4 hours of riding before we make San Javier. I have stopped again to take a picture and Shahe has ridden ahead. I hear the distant rumbling of a truck laboring over the rocky road. Jumping on my bike I sprint for 5 minutes to catch up to him, so that we may plead our case. for a ride together. The ride we get saves us 3 hours of riding without water. Even still, when we do reach the village, I feel as if I am thirstier than I have ever been. We both buy a cold quart of tangerine juice for a dollar and down them immediately, then sit on a cool cement bench in the shade of a lemon tree, we have soaked out heads in water and we enjoy our lunch of tortillas and cheese...

An hour later and we stop once more to visit Raul and Angelina. They have company but welcome us to sit with them under the familiar thatched roof of their palapa. Some one drops off two baskets of strawberries from Santo Domingo. We each take one. Even with new water in my bottle from San Javier, I still taste too much Chlorine, and I drink in small sips between nibbles of my strawberry to mask the chemical. We thank them once more and say wee will see them again in a few years, ojAllah, (God Willing). They are old enough and the four of us are thinking of the many turns each of our lives can take.

The rest of our ride back to Loreto is uneventful. The climbs are brutal, the descents so fast as to drain the heat from our bodies, the long vista fill us with wonder. And the shower is fantastic!

Day 9 Near Ignacio's to Loreto

Day 8

Day 8 Above San Jose de Comundu to somewhere in the desert short of San Ignacio's Rancho.

We follow our daily rising ritual of eating in our sleeping bags, then hanging them up to dry while we pack and change for the day. The road is still very bad and requires some technical skill. There are several rises to negotiate, but within the hour, we can see the Cemetery in the hills before us. It is here I get our one and only pictured tire of the trip, caused by a embedded household variety staple of all such things. After fixing it in the sparse shade of a Palo Verde tree, we investigate the crude cemetery and read the kind words someone wrote on the grave of a woman teacher who lived to be 60. Continuing on down the rough road, pass through the garbage dump before entering the Oasis of San Jose de Comandu. Once again, I am amazed at the presence of water here in the desert, and by the magnificent palms which clog the bottom of the arroyo, providing roofing and wall material for the inhabitants. Everyone has small gardens and flowers on their porches. Friendly " Bueños Dias's" are exchanged, but we can see also the signs of hardship in the many empty and dilapidated buildings. In the nearby village of San Miguel de Comundu, we stop for food and drink. We ask if we can eat in the adjoining garden, and are joined first by the husband and later the wife, who own the store, it not being necessary for anyone to stay at the counter here. A wonderful conversation ensues, interrupted by attempts to interject humor with my rudimentary Spanish. We leave town with the knowledge that the newly constructed pavement is but 8 miles away.

By the time we reach the smooth surface, our sit bones are suffering the injustice of days off road. The wind is against us and increasing and the sun is hot. We again draft each other, Shahe pulling uphill, me pulling the flats and down hills. After a couple of hours of this, the road turns south and the wind now comes from our side. We pull into Pancho Villa, this time arriving from the north east, the road turns to sand and we stop for provisions. Tortillas, cheese and water. We discover that Shahe had inadvertently donated his water purification drops from his Nepal trip to the people of San Miguel. Cross cultural exchange. So we buy some Chlorox as well before continuing on our way. Remembering how horrible the next stretch of road is, we make a sign from some cardboard on the road, advertising Santa Domingo as our destination and soon find ourselves traveling with Dagoberto, who is taking a huge tire from the road construction machines we had passed hours earlier on down to. Zaragosa for repair. He drops us off the beginning of our previous nemesis, the horrible dust and rock road that leads to San Javier. Again the torture. At the beginning we are encouraged by the wind at our backs. But soon the drudgery of walking in the sand begins to wear on us. It is getting dark and again there will be no washing of bodies sticky with sweat and dust. Shahe offers me half of his water (for cleaning up) if I will agree to stop for the night. He is my buddy. I agree to stop as gracefully as I can. I thank him for the offer, but use my own water that night for another very unsatisfactory sponge bath. I put my pants and shirt on inside out. Shahe is beat and falls asleep soon after eating. Again I write. I turn off my headlamp and peer once more into the black curtain...

Day 8 Above San Jose de Comundu to somewhere in the desert short of San Ignacio's Rancho.

Day 6

Day 6 Rancho de San Ignacio to Baranca

We bid our benefactor adios and continue our way west, crossing the arroyo one more time (dry here) before riding on through 20 miles of rocky road on land where even the cactus refuse to survive. There are a series of low hills which we climb in hopes of a glimpse of the ocean, but each time we are denied, feeling only the wind from the west against us. There are long stretches of deep fine sand where we are forced to dismount and drag our bikes. Three and a half hours (and one cold coke given to us by a farmer) later, we find ourselves food and drink in Santo Domingo (and pavement!). We enjoy a long lunch, I introduce Shahe to a liquid yogurt drink similar to Keifer and we are entertained by Sindy and Monica, sisters ages 6 and 4. We ask the store owner if we can get water and he directs us to a hose bib in his yard. With full water bottles, some cheese and tortillas, we start north on the highway.

The wind has stiffened, we try drafting but it is difficult because the are many large holes in the pavement. Then we encounter a seemingly endless series of ripped up road sections. Sometimes, if we are lucky, a parallel dirt road appears. Overall the. road is about 50/50 paved and ripped up in alternate sections. We are not going to make it to La Purissima to sleep behind the Mission as Shahe had done on his December solo trip 5 years ago. After several hours of this it is almost 6 and we decide to try and hitch hike at Francisco Villa, a dusty, unpaved town along our way. No one is on the highway leading north from here. We see only a handful of cars in 45 minutes, and none with room for our bikes and us. Shahe says we should give up and find a place in the village to camp. I said ok, but let's try this last car I see two miles in the distance. It takes about 5 minutes for him to reach us, but he does stop his old red Izuzu pickup and we manage to fit the bikes and us in around a huge truck tire in the bed of the truck. Flying along the highway, we smile at our good fortune (unable to talk over the wind) and get a ride for maybe 18 miles to the road to Baranca, a small fishing village. The driver invites us to come into town to camp there, but we decline as it is out of our way and we are prepared to spend the night in the desert. For a quarter mile, we follow a dusty farm road that winds through the cactus before settling on a flat spot to camp. Spreading out our sleeping bags, inflating out mats, eating so me cheese and tortillas, Shahe is soon ready to sleep. I attempt a failed sponge bath and write these words in my journal before once again drifting off to sleep under the stars. I think I hear the ocean waves in the distance....

Day 5

Day 5 Journal Entry

The bicycle camping portion of our Baja Expedition covered some 250 miles from Loreto on the Sea of Cortez over to Baranca on the Pacific side and back. Of this, there were 60 miles which we did not ride, choosing to hitch hike and accept rides in the back of pickup trucks for sections that were unpleasant which we had previously traversed.Day 5 Loreto to San Ignacio
We headed off throughout the dirt roads in the barrio de Zaragosa. the road was filled with rocks along the arroyo and vultures perched atop tall Cordon cactus peered down upon these strange Americanos on bicycles loaded with camping gear. crossing the highway, a new, paved road lead toward San Javier. We climbed into the mountains and stopped at an arroyo crossing where native palm trees were reflected in a pool of water. it hasn't rained in a year and a half and the water surfaces intermittently along the arroyos of Baja, which are mostly dry river beds of sand and rock. Near the top of the pass, the pavement stops and the road is rocky in the center and dust fills the edges.
After a couple hours, we stop to visit and get water from Raul and Angelina, who own a Rancho (most ranchos in Baja are small simple farm buildings with palm thatched roofs, near meager water sources), friends of Shahe's from previous bike trips. They reminisce about the time that Shahe showed up in the dark on his bike and slept beneath the palm thatched palapa where we now sit, enjoying a slow, relaxed conversation in the heat of the day. We fill our bottles with water pumped by the old windmill and Raul picks us a few lava beans before we say adios and promise to stop in again in three days.
Continuing on, we see vultures eating on dead cows along the road, the drought has been especially hard on them. By mid day, we have reached the town of San Javier. I buy my first meal of the trip, tortillas with goat cheese and avocado, at the simple restaurant on the plaza which leads to the Mission, which is a destination for annual pilgrimages. We explore the grounds and a path leading to a 300 year old olive tree, twisted by time, but with strong young branches woven into the old ones. We play frisbee with some school kids, tighten the bolts on our bikes and fill our water bottles, adding drops of chlorine as usual and continue refreshed.
We ride for hours through the desert, following the arroyo much of the way. The watering holes are well separated, the road is strewn with rocks, so me times we see goats. Shahe's bike has only a simple front suspension. The rocks begin to wear on him, and his mood is not great. It is getting dark and it has become clear that we will not make it to near the coast as he wanted. We come upon a large open, flat area with a small, rough wood casita near the road across from a well tended field. A small thin man appears out of nowhere. I slow, then stop to greet him. We shake hands and then he hugs me. In amazement, I watch him do the same with Shahe. Whole paragraphs of friendly words are exchanged and despite our weariness, we cannot help but smile and be lifted by his genuine kindness toward these two dusty strangers. "Ignacio, sus
or dines.". Can we camp here? "Claro que si". He insists on bringing us warm water from a well pipe and struggles to carry 2 full five gallon buckets of it to us as we set up camp. He then excuses himself to tend to his cattle and goats, and I wash body and clothes free of dust. It will be the only time it turns out to be possible durning out 5 day trip, but I don't know this then...
After we have washed and eaten, Ignacio again appears seemingly out of this air and we talk for an hour in the dark. We learn that he is one of 16 children born here on this Rancho is the desert (all the ranchos we saw were small assemblages of rough build, thatched roof structures, adjacent to widely spaced meager water supplies). He tells us that he attended some high school as an adult in Santa Domingo and that his parents live a couple of hundred meters down the road. We talk of everything from politics to constellations, crops and water to education. Shahe (ever the news junkie) asks if he knows about the current state of affairs in Japan and Ignacio says he listens to it on his radio in his casita. We are 20 miles from electricity and at least 40 from a flush toilet, and I have never in my 59 years seen anyone happier and more giving. Shahe calls him our angel, and if this is what angels are like, then I must try to be one. With these thoughts in my head, I finish my journal entry for the day, writing my my head lamp, Shahe,Ignacio and the cows all asleep now, under a sky filled with more stars that I have ever seen.

Day 4 Kayaking North from Loreto to Coranado Island

Day 4 Kayaking North from Loreto to Coranado Island
Now, after 3 days of driving and over 1200 miles, we are in Loreto. Last night we unpacked and took our first showers since leaving Aptos. Today was our first kayaking trip. Next door neighbor Bill lent us 2 kayaks, sprayskirts and paddles. We packed sleeping bags and food so that we could spend the night if conditions got too back to return by dark and were on the water before 9. Conditions for the first 85 percent of our trip were perfect. We covered the 7 miles from Adom's (Shahe's brother) place on the beach to Coranado Island in 2 hours and 15 minutes. My arms began to hurt after the first half mile. I knew I was in trouble. After a bit, I began to remember what I had learned, I beg an twisting my torso with each stroke, to relieve the strain on my forearms and shoulders, I paid more attention to my stroke angles, I adjusted my seat and foot pegs and was able to keep pace with Shahe (who paddles several times a week--I paddle 3-5 times a year). At least he made it look like I was keeping up with him. I suspected that he was taking it easy on me at this point, especially when he sprinted the last 300 yards to the lagoon where we had decided to eat lunch. It was gorgeous and the respite much appreciated. But Shahe wanted to press on and try to circumnavigate the island that he estimated had a 1.5 mile diameter. I did the math and decided it was worth a try. So much for a nap time. We got back into our trusty craft and headed around the volcano island. The rock formations were very impressive and made it easier to ignore the pain of my hands... blisters and a streaming tendon. When we neared the northern side of the island, we decided to turn back as the wind was forming whitecaps. We returned to the lagoon, ate some more lunch, I went for a short swim and when Shahe said he was going to take a short nap, I told him might also. After about 10 minutes, we gathered our gear and set off again. At first the wind, now finally behind us, increased our progress. Feeling quite confident in my abilities,I asked Shahe how far our day's trip would total. His estimate was18 miles. EIGHTEEN MILES my brain shouted, that THREE TIMES YOUR LONGEST KAYAK TO DATE. WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?
It's. ok, things are going to be alright. It's just going to take awhile.
Take awhile they did, for the wind began to shift, first coming from the East, then south and them for the entire end of the trip, blowing right in our faces and creating rolling waves for us to fight through. I looked at the shoreline. It didn't appear to be moving. At least that meant we weren't losing ground. Shahe kept asking me if I was ok. He was worried that My blood sugar might not be that good. I told him that I could make it and asked if he could. He told me we would make it together. and so we did. Afterwards he told me that it had been a long paddle for him too, and that he was a. glad to have a friend who could do such things with him. That was really nice to hear. Even if I figured he was trying to kill me. Tomorrow we start a 4-5 day self supported mountain bike trip across the Baja peninsula to the Pacific side and back. Kayaking I had done 'right out of the box', without preparation. Biking, I am in shape for. We'll see how that works out.....

Day 3

Day 3 Guerrero Negro to Loreto
We woke up to clear blue skies and flat water. Amazingly after last night's wind, the water appeared as glass. I bought a ticket and an hour later was stepping onto a ponta floating on the Lagoon. where the highest number of grey whales is found on Earth. The high count this year was 1500 before the males and few of the others had left. Now there are approximately 600 females and calves left. It turns out to be more than enough for a very satisfying morning. We motored out to. where we could spot a number of grey whales, and soon they were everywhere around us. A "Friendly" appeared and we spend half an hour at least with her. It was one of the most profoundly spiritual moments in my life. Here is an animal that humans hunted and messily murdered only a (whale and human) generation ago, and it has forgiven us. When I think of how long humans hold their bitterness and how it comes out generation after generation between different groups....it becomes clearer that ever to me that we are not the most evolved species on the planet. I walked away enveloped with a sense of deep peace, like I have never known.