Well, I am in Bend. But I have many a tale to tell you about Baja -- and a few leftovers from Melaque.
At this rate, I will be writing about Mexico until I head back south.
I started my search for a new computer yesterday. Right now, a 13 inch Samsung is far ahead of the other candidates. But there is a 14 business day waiting period for it to ship. I may be in Melaque by the time it gets to Bend.
My brother has been good enough to let me slip into his business station for this post. But it is a temporary solution.
Until I have a computer in hand, I suggest you step over to Jennifer Rose's new blog Red Shoes are Better than Bacon. Yes, the iconoclastic, tightly-composed pieces of The Rose have returned to blogdom. And, I am certain she will share her particular Weltanschauung with us all.
And I will soon be back with you. I hope.
Well, Steve's computer is.
The Sony has lost its screen. That means I cannot post anything more while I am in Baja.
But that will not be for long. We drive to San Diego early tomorrow morning for our flight through Seattle to Redmond, Oregon. Late tomorrow night we will be at Darrel's place in Bend.
That means a new computer is on my horizon. And maybe a new camera if a camera shop cannot work a miracle.
All of that consumerism will wait, though. For the next two days, I will simply enjoy living life.
See you on the other side.
Yesterday was day two of the Baja 140 -- now renamed the Baja 307 to take account of our return mileage.
And it gave two of my inner personalities a chance to battle for which would be king for the day. My racing spirit of Mario Andretti or the photographic muse of Ray Atkeson.
I will cut the suspense for you. Mario won. I know from past experience that taking photographs from a moving vehicle is a less than satisfactory experience. And when that vehicle is racing over bumpy terrain, no photographs are going to be blog-worthy.
There are at least three problems. Speed causes blurring. Two foot bounces prohibit framing. And the dust. The dust simply ruins cameras. So, I apologize in advance for the lack of photographs.
Having said that, yesterday has to be one of the most exhilarating days of my life. Darrel decided we should retrace as much of the Baja 1000 course as we could.
The bottom line is that we were able to drive about 10% of some of the roughest portions of the course. As a result, I have nothing but admiration for what the racers. They overcome some very dire circumstances at amazing speeds.
Let me give you two examples. The course is filled with dry silt. Not sand. Not even dust. Finer than dust. About the consistency of talcum powder.
And thick enough that even the most-experienced professional could easily high center his vehicle. I told you yesterday that the Meyers Manx -- the car John and I were assigned to -- lost its brakes before we left the Pacific coast.
That made driving down the chutes of silt very interesting. It was almost like a toboggan run. With the exception that the “snow”would suddenly burst into clouds of vision-erasing clouds.
We took the silt at a fast, but reasonable, pace. The Baja 1000 drivers blast through the stuff -- often completely oblivious to what may appear in front of them.
But the silt was nothing compared to the rocks we encountered -- the second example. The mountains on the portion of the course we ran are made of solid rock with very little top soil. That means that any roads cut through are going to be strewn with loose rock and have an exposed foundation of boulders.
In some areas, it looked as if we were descending a river bed.
In others, passage seemed next to impossible.
But we did pass. Overall, we spent about eleven hours on the road. Most of the time was spent working our way through the torn up course. And it was more fun than I could ever have imagined. Or did I already tell you that?
One benefit of the trip was a quick stop at the famous Mike’s Sky Ranch -- where we had a pleasant Mexican meal before we started the most exciting portion of the descent to the Pacific.
I suspect my new camera may have become a victim of this little adventure. It was not designed to withstand repeated clouds of silt. And it is not very happy.
But it was happy enough to send this photograph along to you. Proof positive that this was a great trip through the Baja mountains.
Welcome, folks, to the Baja 140.
Since we were but mere spectators for the Baja 1000, our intrepid group decided to sponsor our own race. Two teams. Two cars. From Punta Cabras on the Pacific to San Felipe on the Sea of Cortez. A bi-coastal run.
The course would join together segments of past Baja races along with our own improvisations. And rather than a timed event (because our vehicles would be in two separate classes), the event was more like a rally.
So, off we went on Sunday morning. Gary and Darrel in the RZR 900XP,and John and Steve in the Meyers Manx. A bit later than we had originally planned -- because we are in the senior division. And leniencies are expected. Like the early bird special at Denny’s.
Speaking of food. We are not so foolish as to leave home base without a hearty breakfast. John’s neighbor, Al, had recommended a Mexican breakfast place in San Vicente. Reinforced with hamburgers, huevos rancheros, and omelets, we were on our way.
But not before marking our departure with a stop at a blowhole on the Pacific coast that was new even to John. These things fascinate me even more than geysers. Probably because the working mechanism of negative pressure is so transparent. Geysers are rather sneaky in the way they hide their inner workings.
Our route from the Pacific coast to the Sea of Cortez would take us through an ever-changing kaleidoscope of topography. We thought the primary obstacle would be the mountains that form the spine of Baja California.
I have had several friends tell me that they thought Baja was flat -- like Florida. If it were, it would most likely not exist. Several faults have pushed what would otherwise be sea bed high above sea level.
As a result, the mountains can (and do) reach 10,000 feet above sea level. That meant taking along a variety of clothing. Mostly to prevent sunburn, but it also came in handy when the temperature dropped.
The mountain roads are not too bad. They twist and rise. And are, theoretically, two lanes wide. In reality, they are one lane tracks that are wide enough to let the infrequent traffic coming in the opposite direction to squeeze past. That did not keep us from ripping up the side of the mountains.
John’s car had one handicap. Just as we were leaving, we discovered that his master brake cylinder was not being cooperative. In plain terms, he had no brakes.
If I had the ability to hand out prizes for our little event (and I guess I do), John would receive a special award for being able to control his vehicle on up grades, down grades, and silt as thick as Minnesota snow without incident.
But I am getting ahead of myself. Once we reached the summit of the mountains, we entered a large basin that forms the center of Baja -- a basin that is made up of rich farm land. And a large silt bed.
We steered clear of the silt bed itself -- to avoid getting stuck for days. But the surrounding roads are made up of silt that is far closer to talcum powder than sand. Hitting a small pile of the silt head on is like being hit in the face with 500 pounds of talcum. With no benefit other than losing the ability to see while hurtling down river beds.
The silt transitioned into the last mountains before we gradually ramped our way down one of the legs of the Baja 100 to the Sea of Cortez. Just over four hours from leaving the Pacific coast, we were dipping our toes in a new body of water.
And, boys being boys, three of our members decided to buy discounted t-shirts for the recently-completed Baja 1000. I was disappointed that there were no Baja 140 shirts. But, hey, this is Mexico. If I really wanted one, there is a vendor somewhere who could find one for me.
And tomorrow? Who knows? We are thinking about creating another race back to Punta Cabras. Perhaps a two-day course this time.
The nice thing about our races is that we can make them up as we go along. And that suits my style just fine.
First, let me say I have been having a great time here in Baja. But you know that already.
But I thought I would post today about something a bit different. My reaction to Baja California as a place to live.
For the past three days I have been headquartered at Punta Cabras on the Pacific coast -- about 6 miles north of Puerto San Isidro. The community is a mix of Mexicans and Americans -- with most of the Americans living here as part-time residents.
When I moved to Mexico, I waned to live where I would wake up each morning wondering how I would get through the day. If that was my sole criterion for a place to live, Punta Cabras has it in spades.
There is no electrical connection here. The power poles end several mils south. And the people here want to keep it that way. To keep out what cheap power would bring to the area.
Instead, each house has its own solar power hookup with a backup generator. Solar power and Baja seem to be a natural match. But not always. Since we arrived, we have not had sufficient sunshine to charge the system batteries. As a result, each of my electrical travel companions has been dying -- one by one.
Another factor keeps new settlers from moving in. Water. Each homeowner owns a share in the community well. And no new blood is being invited into the pool. It would be easier to get a prime table at Noma than to buy a home here.
As a result, the group is supportive of other group members. But they are simultaneously insular toward change. Having said that, they all welcomed and entertained me lavishly -- as a guest.
The only aspect of Baja that has interested me is the weather. Our days have hovered in the 50s and lower 60s since we arrived. Perfect weather for me. But John, our host, burst my bubble when he pointed out that summers here can easily hit 100 degrees.
Of course, Baja has built a reputation for catering to boys with toys. There are an amazing number of trails and tracks that are perfect for our two vehicles.
This afternoon we drove on the highway to San Vicente to buy car parts and tacos. On the return trip we took dirt tracks through the hills back to the beach.
The scenery was stunning. And I wish I had a photograph for you. But my camera is one of the casualties of our electricity limitation. My hope is to get it revived with power from the generator. If I don’t, this will also be my last bog for a bit -- because my computer battery is nearly exhausted.
The bottom line is this is a very fun place to visit, but I would not choose it as a place to live over Melaque.
Friday was one of those fortunate days when three adventures were delivered in one day.
The first was expected -- the reason for being here. We drove up to Ensenada and then went fifteen more miles inland to watch each of the Baja 1000 racers speed past us in the mountains of Baja -- the technical part of the course.
One of the reasons Baja has become home to this race is its topography. Mountains. Beaches. Sand. Rock. Anything to create driving hazards during the 17 hour race. This is not a Sunday drive in the country.
Nor is it a sport for the unmoneyed. At one point in time, this was a race for guys in Baja buggies (stock Volkswagen bugs).
These days, it is not unusual to spend upwards of $500,000 on the race vehicle. The truly moneyed have multiple chase crews -- and are guided by helicopters. You can almost feel the dollars rushing past on the course.
The only competitors we did not see were the motorcycles. They left early the night before. But we saw every other class come whizzing by.
The most dangerous thing I did as a spectator was eat breakfast at the local cantina. I am still not certain what the filling was. But I survived.
When we got back to the house, the second adventure began. Before boys can play with toys, boys must do mechanical stuff. No matter how well we maintain our recreational vehicles, something always needs to be done.
So, out came the tool boxes and a few accessories to get ready for our third adventure. To spend the rest of the days speeding through the dunes and beaches near John’s house.
Of course, another rule of adventure intruded itself. Whenever tools come out, time seems to speed up. As a result, the sun was starting to set when we set off on our Rommel reenactment.
I guess Rommel is not a good comparison. I doubt he really enjoyed going either way across North Africa. We had the advantage of a long beach to ourselves.
And with only one small stuck-in-the-sand episode, we had more fun than four guys should have while being loud and fast. Conquering he dunes is better than anything Disney can offer. And even better the roller coasters at Six Flags. After all, neither park offers the constant specter of death on each dune.
Some of the of the motorcycles have competed the course as I write this. By the time you read it, some of the trophy trucks will have completed it. The remainder of the pack will straggle back up the Baja peninsula through Saturday night.
We may go out to find some. Or we may wait and have our own cross-peninsula adventure on Sunday. That is the joy of Baja. No plans.
Whatever it is, I hope I can keep sharing with you. John does not have electricity to his house. But we have intermittent power. That might make a good blog post.
See you soon.
Our role in the Baja 1000 is quickly unfolding.
And, rather than bury the story, here it is. We will be watching the race, but watching it actively.
Darrel has a friend (John) who owns a house at Punta Cabras in Baja North. That will be our base of operations.
And a convenient base it is. We are about an hour and a half south of Ensenada. But that puts us right in the path of the motorcycles, trucks, and ATVs that are participating in the race.
Today we are up early to drive to Ensenada to see one of the flashiest classes of racers head out on their almost 100 mile race course – the Class One trucks and cars.
These are the guys whose approach will be heralded by the helicopters that are part of their chase teams. The days of the gentleman amateur racer disappeared some time ago.
But do not think we are left classless as spectators. The RZR 900XP mounted n the back of Gary’s (another friend of Darrel) truck will be the chase vehicle for Darrel and Gary.
This Myers Manx will be the steed for John and Steve to chase after the racers. And, at some point, we will do a bit of off-roading ourselves.
However, that will be for another day.
But why do you need any other days when this is the view that greets you from your own bedroom. I almost felt as if I had been transported back to ancestral Scotland.
