Phileas Abroad: Austin, TX to Tierra del Fuego

[gaahrdner]

Hey TWT! Totally forgot to tell you all about my trip, and as I got some great help from a few people here already, well, my bad! Sadly I never got to ride too much with y'all in the hill country, as I spent way too much time prepping the bike. Luckily I got a pretty hands-on tutorial down in Big Bend a few weeks ago (which is amazing and I must return there very soon!).

Anyway, I'm currently in Baja having a blast, and headed down south, solo, to La Paz where I'll hit the mainland and make it to Ushuaia in Tierra del Fuego onboard my trusty DR650.

So, yeah, I'm mainly blogging at http://phileasabroad.com and trying to keep up with on a regular basis; you can find my instagram and facebook information there if you're into that as well.

I've posted a few dispatches already, but if y'all like I will start cross-posting here as well!

 

[wildernessrider]

Please post as you can. We are all stuck with cold rainy weather this winter, and wishing for more ride days. Would be fun to track along on your grand adventure. Your DR is in full beast of burden mode! Thanks for posting, love to see a few more pics too.

 

[fotoTEX]

Have a great and safe journey south. I was in Tierra del Fuego last year this time of year and it is awesome. The wind can be brutal but it is all part of the journey. I was on a photo. shoot headed to Antarctica and was not on a bike.

I really liked Torres de Paine. Also Perito Moreno Glacier outside El Calafate is worth your time.

 

[gaahrdner]

Have a great and safe journey south. I was in Tierra del Fuego last year this time of year and it is awesome. The wind can be brutal but it is all part of the journey. I was on a photo. shoot headed to Antarctica and was not on a bike.

I really liked Torres de Paine. Also Perito Moreno Glacier outside El Calafate is worth your time.

Thanks man, I'll make a note about that area once I get there!

 

[gaahrdner]

San Felipe To Gonzaga Bay

Eager to see the ‘real’ Baja, I awoke at a blisteringly early 10AM, shoveled some huevos rancheros into my mouth and hopped onto the MEX5 south towards Puertocitos.

MEX5 is littered with good ideas shot dead by the recession. Worn billboards line the roads, their sun-faded lettering extolling the latest and greatest parcels of land for sale, or a new hotel opening up last spring.

The road, as well, quickly becomes a bit rougher, ever present sand dunes continuing their steady march more and more inland. It’s still completely drivable of course (and easily), I mention it merely because some Americans more used to the highways of our country might be in for a bit of surprise.

The ride is mostly uneventful, though I have my first experience with vados, the Mexican solution to road floods. While Baja is extremely arid, it does rain at times, and the area is known to flood during high rainfall (as was the case in 2012 with Hurricane Paulie Cicero). So what the Mexicans have done, is create dips in the road that allow the water to flow towards lower elevations.

These can be properly terrifying when they are not marked, and they are often not (though more times they are on major thoroughfares), and will work your suspension over like a fat man on a pogo stick. Luckily, local gringos will often take matters into their own hands to warn fellow travelers of upcoming vados.

This was one was proceeded by a 10 foot “OH” sign as well.

I continued on, through the desert scrub that makes up this land. The mind can play tricks on you at times, as the road is very straight and the surrounding area begins to look a bit alien to a traveller, but a quick glance towards the coastline and, sanity regained, you’ll see many homes that have been built by locals and gringos.

Houses in the distance, though I explored some and found many abandoned.

Eventually I made it to Puertocitos, well, at least the outskirts, and came across this sign, and, while taking pictures, was stopped by a gringo curious about my motorcycle.

Every gringo who lives in the area, I assume.

“You long distance riders are crazy man, where are you going?” I told him my short story so far, and he mentioned I should stop at a place called Cowpatty’s for a “beer and hotdog.” Only in Baja. Feeling peckish, I decided, what the ****. A mile later, I’m at the cow **** bar.

His logo is a Mexican with a massive sombrero and accompanying mustache.

There’s a lot to look at it, and judging by the race team stickers appears to be a pretty popular place on the Baja 1000 circuit.

sadly i can't import this photo gallery to the forum

I find the owner (Richard), tending bar, order a beer and a dog and we start conversating. He tells me that there’s not much to see in Puertocitos, and I should keep riding as it’s only 1PM and I can easily make it to Gonzaga Bay, a much prettier place with a store (a store!). He also tells me a bit about the place, how he’s planning on having a Super Bowl party here and that I should definitely not stay here because everyone is an old gringo. As if on cue, they start filtering in from their surrounding beach homes for a mid-day beer and some conversation.

One thing I have noticed is that these transplants are a tight knit group and not keen on carrying on conversations with travellers, unlike the locals. I’m not sure if it’s due to a generational divide or the climate, or perhaps something else, but it reminds me of the Portland Freeze. Anyway, I pay Richard, leave him a tip, and head out towards Gonzaga Bay, passing through Puertocitos for some gas. He was right, there really is not much there (apparently some hot springs but those are everywhere), but it’d be nice for a day trip I’m sure.

The road to Gonzaga Bay is much more interesting.

While paved, it begins to snake through the Sierra de San Pedro Mártir Peninsular Range, a feature I was not expecting when I first rode into Baja. Along the way volcanic rocks jut through the Sea of Cortez, defiant through the ages as always.

Excitingly, my friend Mr. High Brown Pants Moment Crosswinds has decided to join me as well, so I don’t have too many pictures of the ride towards the Bay. The sun was setting as well, and I was not relishing the possibility of riding at night in high wind traffic. No sir.

As luck would have it, the road ends, due to construction. It turns out, the MEX5 is still under construction, and past Gonzaga Bay it’s all offroad until you rejoin with the MEX1 further central to Baja. It’s also here that there exists a military checkpoint. Because why wouldn’t there be a checkpoint on a dirt road?

I eventually get to Gonzaga Bay, which is nothing more than a crescent of sand, a Pemex gas station, and a store/restaurant. Numerous fishing vessels sit offshore, as Gonzaga is a small fishing village, though these are clearly commercial and I’m not sure where they dock.

Gonzaga Bay and fishing vessels.

On the beach I camp under a palapa, which has the exorbitant price of 250 pesos for wind protection, or 120 without. I opt for with, and ****, I sure am glad I do.

A palapa.

It’s been a long day, so I eat some tacos at the store, head back to the beach with few cervezas, and am treated to a nice sunset over the bay.

[ame="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9kidWStwckE"]Sunset Over Gonzaga Bay, Baja - YouTube[/ame]

And then the wind picks up to about 50mph.

I huddle in my tent as the sand begins to pile up inside the palapa and around the tent, finishing off my cervezas and listening to some tunes. I’m pretty thankful I went for the wind barrier, I can’t imagine what my night would have been like in that weather without it.

 

[gaahrdner]

Video of my ride to Coco's Corner, only 3 minutes long or so. I had to wait 3 hours in a bar, drinking beers, eating some ribs, and talking to some German girls while I waited for this to upload. It was so difficult for me.

[ame="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OlIeuaiHXcQ"]The Road To Coco's Corner - YouTube[/ame]

 

[gaahrdner]

Coco’s Corner sits in the middle of nowhere, Baja, but at the center of every road. It’s a cartographic oddity that such a place would be so famous when it’s so far off the beaten track, but perhaps that’s why it is so famous.

Rocks are spray painted with black lettering and a simple arrow on your way towards Coco’s along the gravel and sand road at random intervals. When you arrive you’re greeted by a fenced camp, decorated with thousands of beer cans that clink softly in the desert wind.

Other decorations abound as well, some junk, some handpicked mementos of other travelers.

Want to watch some TV and drink beer on toilet seats?

If you’d like to stay a while, some abandoned campers are also available to spend the night in; while there I spoke with a guy who was pedaling a three-wheeled bicycle around Baja with his two cats and three dogs. He had been there three days, as, you can imagine, it’s not very easy to tricycle your way through sand and gravel.

The many prosthetics of Coco, and an old dirt bike. From what I can tell he doesn’t use any of them, not even when riding his quad.

The man himself, Coco, is actually named Jorge Enrique Corral Sandez, however in Mexico it’s common for people named Enrique (Henry) to go by Coco. Coco is a man of bawdy language and no legs, and will gladly invite you into his home for a beer or two. He’s been a staple of Baja for many years, having first opened up this place in 1990. It’s now a required (well, pretty much) stop for all Baja racers doing their pre-running, and all travelers as well.

When you arrive, he asks you what kind of beer you want, whips out his signature book and starts filling in the details; your name, where you’re from, a message, and a hand-drawn picture of the vehicle you arrived in. There must be thousands of signatures in the book by now.

While chatting with Coco, a Mexican family showed up and joined me. You see, the inside of the restaurant/lounge area is decorated as well.

Panties, panties everywhere. Among the myriad of dirt bike stickers, photos of racers and Coco are the underwear of many a female traveler and racer, all signed and dated of course.

I bring up the family because we all started enjoying our cervezas while Coco bantered back in forth in Spanish, and I grinned and laughed along like a silly gringo. I understood a bit, and while Coco kept it up the matriarch and I got to talking, and pretty soon I realized she was trying to pawn her daughter off on me, the great white motorcycle adventurer. ”She loves motos,” she said. This was to be my first (but not last) marriage offering.

Anyway, Coco eventually convinced the daughter to staple up a pair of her underwear to the ceiling of the room, much to our amusement.

La familia.

Coco grabbed his trusty Panty Ladder and had one of the other guys help him stand it up, while the daughter proceeded to climb to the top and do the deed.

Coco supervising.

Houston we have new panties.

I checked my watch and decided I needed to head out, so I said goodbye to my new friends and my potential new wife (her mother told me they’d be staying at a hotel behind the market in Guerrero Negro, so of course come find them when I arrived), and headed towards Bahia de Los Angeles.

A job well done desert rider.

Coco let me know I would have problems finding lodging, as the Baja 200 was underway, but I was fairly certain I could find a spot. Sadly I wouldn’t arrive until too late so I was unable to view the race.

The ride was fairly straight most of the way, though as you approached the bay and dipped through the mountains the ride got much more twisty and exciting. There’s even a salt flat as you approach the town, but sadly I was having way too much fun riding and didn’t take too many photos.

Look Mom, more cacti.

Bahia de Los Angeles is laid out like any other beach town, with hotels and restaurants lining the street and facing the ocean, and the locals living a bit further off. I rode a bit further out and found a campground about 1 km from the town, an easy walk and easier ride if needed.

My digs.

I pulled into a small campground, lined with palapas and a few RVs, with a house on the other end.

There I met who I can only assume was Daggett, a larger Mexican man fast asleep on a kitchen table and his pleasant wife who took my 130 pesos and gave me a place to set up my tent.

Home sweet palapa?

Then I headed into town to grab a bite to eat.

Hammocka’s Fish I think it was called. Pretty tasty.

Eventually I made it back, stared at the vast expanse that is the visible galaxy (and it truly is visible compared to most places in the U.S.) and fell asleep.

Not before attempting to use the bathroom, and high-tailing it out of there once I met the current occupant.

Oh, a black widow. Lovely.

 

[Moose]

404686[/ATTACH]
Oh, a black widow. Lovely.
[/COLOR]

CODE BROWN CODE BROWN....nevermind

 

[gaahrdner]

Woo! Ok! Wow I haven't written in a while, but amidst some beers and free tequila shots I've managed to write and schedule a few to be posted. I'm not sure when or how I'll get em cross-posted over here at ADV but I'll do my damnedest. Anyhoozle, I'm in La Paz, have met a bunch of fellow riders as well. Going to try and ferry over to Topolobamplo tomorrow, and get to Mazatlan by January 27th, because...

CARNIVAL!

I found out today that it's the 3rd largest in the world, so I may as well check it out, right? I mean, 350,000 scantily clad women are going to descend on the city, you'd be crazy not to!

Anyhow, on to the update.

Eager to move on from Bahia de Concepcion, I woke up fairly early-ish, ate a quick bite of something I can’t remember and went to gas up. I was wanting to do a bit more off road riding and noticed a nice long dirt road that would take me through the mountains along the coast, eventually swinging west towards Guerrero Negro, my ultimate endpoint for the day.

You can see the route I wanted to take south of Bahia de Los Angeles on the right hand side there, and the actual route to MEX1 through San Borja near the top.

I should mention that this lovely AAA map was donated by a grand couple who stayed in the camp site next to me at Daggett’s. They had an extra one, and though it was 10 years old were very happy to give it to me. Sadly I don’t remember their names, but I do remember being quite stunned by how happy this elderly couple seemed to be after all these years. Then off they went to go kayak across the bay. Those crazy Boomers.

Pulling into the Pemex station, I saw this technological marvel.

I bet it’s fun as all heck to drive.

Anyway, after fueling up I talked to this guy, Donnie Williamson, and asked him about the route.

As you can see, Donnie is also from Austin, TX and a huge Longhorns fan. He even provided my bike with some much needed Austin bling.

Hook ‘em! And it’s mad reflective!

Donnie mentioned that the road was pretty torn up after the previous days Baja 200 race, and it would take me most of the day to get through heavy deep sand, the kind of stuff that makes professional Baja riders cry. I should mention that Donnie was hoppin’ around madly, as I found out he was late to return back to Austin by a few days. So we parted ways and I started back whence I came towards MEX1. About 20 minutes in I noticed a sign to some mission called San Borja, flipped around on the road and stopped at the sign.

San Borja.

Well **** it, I have this amazing map, let me actually look at it and see if I can cut across the desert, and what do you know I surely could. It would be a few miles but it would be fun as all ****, I knew that much. So off I charged down a road made of rocks and Baja dirt. I don’t have many pictures of this time, but I did meet some Gaucho’s headed towards the highway. At this time I stopped and turned on the GoPro, to record an epic ride.

Here’s me acting immaturely, and, now that I see the picture, on the wrong side of the cactus.

One of a few signs pointing the way.

Here’s video of the ride, including me crashing after I hit some rocks. Which was actually pretty fun, and I imagine it always is whenever you don’t get hurt (thanks Alpinestars!).

[ame="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmWBzyqpWRI"]Road to San Borja - YouTube[/ame]

Eventually I got to the mission.

Of course it was closed for renovations.

I’ll spare you all the rest of the details but needless to say I enjoyed a very boring and straight ride before ending up in Guerrero Negro.

 

[The Bruce]

I'm enjoying following your trip so far. Vaya con Dios! One simple request though; please use a font other than yellow. My old eyes are straining to read it. Stay safe.

 

[gaahrdner]

I'm enjoying following your trip so far. Vaya con Dios! One simple request though; please use a font other than yellow. My old eyes are straining to read it. Stay safe.

Alright, no worries!

 

[gaahrdner]

Copper Canyon: Baby Steps

Hey guys, I'm having a blast down here in Mexico. I've missed posting some updates, as it takes a while and I'm finding it hard to keep up even with the daily writings on my site, so check that out for the latest info.

It's http://phileasabroad.com

But I just had to share my Copper Canyon experience!

I should take some time to introduce the other members of our group that I met on the ferry, before telling you of the adventures we had in Copper Canyon.

First up is Stefan Knopf and his wife Ira, both from Heidelberg. Stefan used to lead motorcycle tours in Mexico for many years, and is pretty much known worldwide as the guy to contact when shipping a motorcycle from/to anywhere to/from Europe, through his company Knopf tours. He was leading the group and had the route planned, hotels booked, etc. Ira rode passenger, and is extremely pleasant. She suffers from some type of asthma, so one of Stefan’s panniers is full of a specialized machine to cure attacks, making our long ride (and their many other long rides) all the more impressive.

Andi, the guy I met the night before on the ferry, is a plumber in Heidelberg and a motorcycle aficionado as well. Actually, he’s Stefan’s plumber, and Stefan invited him out on this trip, as payment for some work back in Germany (I’m assuming.) That’s pretty awesome of Stefan if you ask me. Andi would ride the whole way with a young kid named Noah. Noah was a straight ******, because, well he’s so young but he hung with all of us through some really hard days. I initially thought he was Andi’s son, however I later learned they just have some kind of good father-son relationship from a previous relationship? Not that it’s important to this story.

Next up is Peter, a plumber from Heidelberg. Yep, same deal as Andi. Peter and I would get to know each other very well as the day proceeded, as you’ll soon find out.

Rounding out the group were Chris and his partner Agnes. Chris is from San Diego and has been long time friends with Stefan, and he rode a pretty new and very nicely kitted out 1200GS, the biggest of all the bikes in the group. I believe he does some kind of online training of teachers.

And of course, me.

So the next morning, we wake up to find our hotel has provided breakfast for everyone. Stefan picks up my tab, payment for use of the hotel room the previous night, and while delicious, it does delay us a bit. The Mexican way is one of bringing out multiple dishes at different times, something none of us is really used to yet, so we don’t leave Choix until a bit later. All packed up with my 2L of water and we’re on the road, jiving to conquer the Copper Canyon by 9:30AM.

We head out, and immediately get lost. Stefan is leading however we’ve missed the turn onto the dirt road, and it’s another 20 km until he pulls over and asks someone, and I consult my GPS. Yep, we passed it. So, we turn around, find the entrance, and hit pay dirt: no more asphalt!

Weaving through small puebla’s (and dodging donkeys) the motorcycles climb higher through the mountains, with road conditions remaining generally the same: dirty.

It quickly becomes clear that I’m riding the superior machine for these conditions; the BMWs are fairly heavy and apt to get caught in smaller ruts, while the much lighter weight of my DR650 lets me rip open the throttle to charge up the hills and stay nimble in the sand. The big 1200GS particularly has some problems, laden down with two humans and all the gear, and Chris and Agnes have to continually stop so Agnes can walk a bit as Chris maneuvers the motorcycle through deep sand. After about an hour we stop for a break and some photos.

“Wow we just rode that stretch, how cool was that! I wonder what’s next?”

It’s a little after 11AM, and my phone says we still have about 7 hours of riding left. But we’re making good time, so we hop back on our bikes and continue on, and I encounter my first stream! Excitedly I gun it across the water after watching Stefan’s line and then turn around and do it again so he can get a photo of me, as we wait for Chris and Agnes to catch up and cross the stream.

TEMPORARY INSERT UNTIL STEFAN SENDS ME THE PHOTO. FOR RIGHT NOW, JUST IMAGINE HOW DASHING AND AMAZING I LOOK.

We stop again about an hour later. I’m itching to go a bit faster though, so I pull Stefan aside and ask if he minds if I ride ahead, still a bit unsure of the groups dynamics since I did only just meet these people the day before. He’s totally fine with it so I mention that I’ll stop again in about an hour or so and wait for everyone to catch up.

**** fine roads son.

I snap another picture, rip open the throttle and barrel down the two track road, a massive grin on my face. The DR is incredible responsive, and I quickly grow more confident with the tail end sliding around curves as we tear down mountains, through valleys, and back up other mountains. No guard rails, at times sheer cliff faces, and just pure enjoyment.

Beats working!

Did I mention how dusty it is out there? It hadn’t rained for weeks, so I had to constantly wipe dust from my shield and camera lens. I’m still carrying that dust around on my bike.

I stop a few times throughout the ride to take photos and find Peter, the oldest rider of the group never too far behind me. At one point, I lose my phone in the dust and sand, and Peter comes up behind me. I motion for him to stop, fearing he’ll run it over, and sentencing the rest of my journey to be music-less. A few minutes search and I find it lying in the middle of the road, well hidden. Close call, that’s for sure. We head out again, and pretty soon we find a decent pace riding together, only stopping later when Peter feels a bit guilty for our quickness as we spot some river, whose name escapes me. We pull over and wait for the others, who soon arrive, with the big 1200GS many minutes later.

As we feel the day go by, we’re all a bit keen to pick up the pace, wanting to arrive before dark, so Stefan, as German as he can, tells us all not to stop again until we hit the bridge, after a town called La Mision. Peter has been wanting to stop at the next Coca-Cola sign (and mentions he lost his water bottle somewhere), and with the group getting thirsty, we press on. I glance down as I ride and am glad I filled a two liter bottle of water before I left. Just in case of course.

I’m guessing it’s called La Mision because of this mission. Just a hunch though.

Shrines like these are on the sides of the roads EVERYWHERE in Mexico.

Off we go then, here’s the video.

VIDEO OF RIDING TO THE BRIDGE. USE YOUR IMAGINATION BANDWIDTH IS LIMITED DOWN HERE.

What might not be clear is that, as I arrived at the bridge, with Peter well in front of me, three gun shots rang out somewhere down the valley. The deal was to stop at the bridge, so I get off and wait, and Andi and Noah appear soon after. They too heard the shots.

Andi just needs a smoke after that ride. Smoke Andi, smoke.

We wait a while and eventually Stefan and Ira show up, and they tell us they were stopped by the military.

“Yeah they just came running out of the woods yelling at us, asking us where we were going and how many of us there were.”

Peter shows back up, having seen zero Coca-Cola signs across the bridge, and with everyone thirsty we decide to regroup in the town and search for drinks. Soon after I arrive I spot “the Army.” It looks to me like one guy in uniform with a gun and two locals in plain clothes, though perhaps the others have gone back to their posts? The uniformed man starts to get a bit agitated and begins yelling at and waving us off, so we make a quick decision to GTFO and look for some drinks after the bridge in the next Puebla.

View from the bridge. Yep, it’s water.

We cross over, and stop on the other side, and wait for Chris and Agnes, who still haven’t shown up yet at this point.

And wait.

Stefan spots a refrigerator and goes to speak to a local about the route to Batopilas, and hopefully grab some beverages. He comes back dejectedly with cans of Coke, and no water; apparently the entire fridge is full of Coke products. Impressive.

Worse, the remaining bridge between us and Batopilas had been washed away, and there is no way to get there; the water is too deep and swift to ford. We certainly won’t reach the town by nightfall.

I take a sip of Coke, look back, past the bridge to where we spotted the military (or bandits). It’s the only way back.

I give a little bit of my water to Ira, as she needs to stay hydrated.

We’re stuck.