I awoke after a frosty nights sleep to a beautiful sunrise over the desert. It would be forty miles to Santa Rosalia and the Sea of Cortez and maybe a bit more to find decent camping on the beach - no problem. I envisioned a quick ride with plenty of time to set up camp on a sandy beach; also possibly a swim to rinse off the sweat and dirt covering my body. Before loading up, I decided I´d flip my bike over and lube the chain. While spinning the rear tire around, I heard a funny climking noise with every rotation of the wheel. Upon taking off the tire, I noticed also one of the spokes no longer attached to the rim. Uh oh. I pulled the rim tape off and found the culprit - a broken nipple making the sound, along with another nipple, free and unused, that must have accidentally been left in the crawl space (between the place where the tube goes and the underside of the rim) during the making of the wheel. I used this new nipple to fasten the loose spoke back to the rim and marked it with some tape. While pumping the tire back up with Laurel´s pump, I somehow broke the valve stem on the tube. I had pumped it up most of the way though, so I finished setting up the tire, put it back on the bike, loaded up, and we set off.
I was now in a very precarious position. As I think I mentioned previously, about a week before in the desert my rear tube had mysteriously blown up. I had replaced with the only spare tube I had for my rear, which requires a long stem valve since the rim is a bit longer. This replacement had gotten a tiny puncture in it from the spine of a cactus the that night, and during the patching of that the next day, I had managed to brake my tire tool that aids me in getting on and off the tire, as well as my only pump. So now, I had just broken off the only way to pump up my last remaining long-stem tube. I had no tire wrench, nor even a bike pump, and I was unsure of my mechanic work fixing the spoke as it was my first time doing so. I felt as if the whole wheel might collapse at any moment. I felt like I was teetering on a sharp mountain ridge. On one side was joy, on the other pain. If one thing were to happen to that back tire, it could ruin my day, and possbily the next couple days depending on how long it might take me to figure out the situation. I rode on - into a fierce headwind and a slow, gradual rise in elevation. Ten miles into it, my chain wasn´t hitting the cassette right and was skipping as I´d make strong pushes down on the pedals, trying to push my way up the steeper hills. I pulled over to adjust and kept moving. Not a couple miles later on the next hill, the same thing. Knowing that eventually I was going to be climbing quite a bit to get the coast, I pulled over, unloaded my bike, turned it over, and made the serious adjustment needed for my derailur to work correctly.
Already the morning was turning into noon. The strong headwinds had made what should have been an easy climb into a fierce battle with the street. We were only traveling at about 5-7 miles per hour, compared with our normal 13 or so average. We were working twice as hard to go half the distance. Trucks would fly by at either side and we would get pushed around in their air wake, like moths and butterflies in the wind. At that moment on the side of the road, I was tired and frustrated. I felt like leaving my bike right where it was after a couple of swift kicks and sticking out my thumb to get me to the closest beach. I wondered why this was all happening to me. What had I done? I´d been leaving my campsites cleaner then they were when we arrived. I´d been sharing my food, my water, my tent. To my knowledge I hadn´t been mistreating anyone. So why me? Laurel asked if I thought the chain problem could have been related to the wheel problem. The answer, mechanically, was no. And yet I suddenly realized that they were absolutely connected. I had gotten it wrong so far. It was all happening to me exactly because I asked for it - by going on this trip; by putting myself out here trying to cross continents on a bike under all the elements. How could I do this, do anything, live life, and expect things to always go the right way, then flip my lid when they didn´t or don´t? I can´t expect that - the world owes me nothing - this is a test and exactly what I asked for. How am I going to react, how will I resolve these issues?
Before leaving on this trip, I had consulted a good friend who had taken a similar trip on bike down the middle of Mexico to Guatemala the previous year. On the mental experience, she said that I would see whether of not the things that I thought about myself were true. Putting yourself on the line, you see if you can walk the walk. As for me, I have realized that I can´t keep on living the illusion that things are supposed to go my way. I feel sorry for the people that have been close to me and suffered the wrath I have taken out on them when something went wrong. That´s no way to live. It makes people tip toe around you - that is if they still want to be around you. But who knows, they may grow tired of that leave you alltogether eventually. I don´t want that. So how am I going to react? What will I do? Its a simple lesson, but one that continues to slip my mind in moments of frustration when nothing seems to be going my way. Will I frown, yell, kick, and give up, OR will I yield, reflect, think, smile, and move on, like water around a rock...
I finally did get to the coast. Santa Rosalia was a nice, small town, full of mechanics and tire shops, clothes stores, restaurants, hotels, markets, and fisheries. The shore was mostly rocky, the water a deep blue. After getting directions to a bike shop, which sold wedding gowns and bike tires (??), it was closed, as it was siesta, and the lady sweeping the front porch that she´d open it back up the next day, or at five. Feeling a bit confused, I asked for another shop. There happened to be one on the way out of town right off the main highway. Although he had no innertubes my size with the long stems, he gave me a few little pieces that turn a presta valve into a shrader valve (which most tires in the world have). These little pieces, when attached to the valve stems of my spare tires, will give them the extra bit of length needed so that when I replace my rear innertube, I will be able to pump them up. Now, seemingly off the of the precarious ridge I had been riding on, I am a bit more confident and able to relax. Although I still have no pump, I will be able to use Laurel´s until I pick up a new one, and now I have plenty of spare tubes to go around. We just got to Mulege, thirty miles south of Santa Rosalia, and headed a bit further south, to camp somewhere along the coast of the Bahia de Concepcion. It is supposed to be warmer, with sandier beaches, and plenty of palm trees.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Valle de los Cirios
We have crossed the 28th parallel and have entered Mountain Time Zone. Even though the sun still sets at exactly the same time here as it did yesterday, it is now an hour forward. We are in Guerrero Negro, at the very northern end of Baja California Sur. Guerrero Negro is well known for its salt processing refineries and the lagoons just west where grey whales come down in the thousands to give birth and nurse young little whales into life. Although I will not go on any tours to see the whales out in the lagoon, I did get the chance to see a huge whale skeleton. Quite impressive. Other than these few things, there is not much in Guerrero Negro. There are many hotels and restaurants catering to this tourism, but it is a hard time for tourism, and much of the streets, shops, hotels, and cafes remain dusty and empty.
I was hoping to fix my bike pump in this town, which broke one frustrating morning on a desert road several days back. I have visited every mechanic and the one store that sells bikes in town, and no one seems to know how to fix it, or to want to help me fix it, even after explaining to them the dire circumstances I will be in if one of my innertubes pops or goes flat out in the desert. They simply tell me that its broken, to which I respond, thank you for telling me the obvious and I walk away confused as to why no one wants to help me. Luckily, Laurel has a pump, but I do not like to rely on other people, and seeing as how I eventually will leave her, I am quite pressed to try and find a solution to this problem. I will most likely end up leaving this town without a solution, and will try to find that solution in a bigger town with better bike stores...
Since the last post, we headed east and up. We climbed a couple thousand feet (between 2000 and 3000) and rolled up and down hills on a plateau in the Valle de Los Cirios, a nature preserve here in Baja. It was pure desert, but quite beautiful. There was every type of cactus there you could imagine, including one, the Cirio, which only grows in this place, even though scientists have tried to reproduce it in labs and greenhouses outside of this environment. It got cold at night, and one night howled with wind and some rain and kept me up most of the night. We would ride miles and miles without seeing any civilization, and when that finally came, it would be one store in the middle of nowhere - a rest stop for truckers to change a tire, grab some chips and soda - and move on. It was in these one store towns that we would fill up our water bottles and move on to find the next campsite. We finally came out of the valley yesterday and rode into Guerrero Negro after thirty miles of the flattest, plainest road I have ever ridden. This straight road cut a path from the desert back to the coast and had no scenery except for small shrubs, sand, and one electric pole after another, lining our way toward...
Besides the pump, another brutal loss was my camera. It took a fall one day four feet to the ground and refused to turn on since. I tried my best to fix it, but to no avail. I salvaged the batteries and the memory card, and threw the rest away in a trash bin in Rosario. I have been adament about having Laurel take pictures, and when we finish our time together, there has been some talk about her passing on the camera to me, which was in itself passed on to her by a friend. So for the time being, Im sorry to say there will be no more pictures for a little while.
I have been biking a lot, and although my body still feels fine, it is tired. We slept last night in a cheap motel room, and I loved every second I spent in the bed. Even though we were promised hot water, there was none. And I mean no water, not even cold, until this morning, which added to my disappointment of this meager village.
I look forward to moving on, and relaxing by the warm shores of the sea of cortez. We will most likely hang out the rest of the day, rest our bones, and camp somewhere just outside of town tonight, and then start moving again in the morning.
Until next time,
Chris
I was hoping to fix my bike pump in this town, which broke one frustrating morning on a desert road several days back. I have visited every mechanic and the one store that sells bikes in town, and no one seems to know how to fix it, or to want to help me fix it, even after explaining to them the dire circumstances I will be in if one of my innertubes pops or goes flat out in the desert. They simply tell me that its broken, to which I respond, thank you for telling me the obvious and I walk away confused as to why no one wants to help me. Luckily, Laurel has a pump, but I do not like to rely on other people, and seeing as how I eventually will leave her, I am quite pressed to try and find a solution to this problem. I will most likely end up leaving this town without a solution, and will try to find that solution in a bigger town with better bike stores...
Since the last post, we headed east and up. We climbed a couple thousand feet (between 2000 and 3000) and rolled up and down hills on a plateau in the Valle de Los Cirios, a nature preserve here in Baja. It was pure desert, but quite beautiful. There was every type of cactus there you could imagine, including one, the Cirio, which only grows in this place, even though scientists have tried to reproduce it in labs and greenhouses outside of this environment. It got cold at night, and one night howled with wind and some rain and kept me up most of the night. We would ride miles and miles without seeing any civilization, and when that finally came, it would be one store in the middle of nowhere - a rest stop for truckers to change a tire, grab some chips and soda - and move on. It was in these one store towns that we would fill up our water bottles and move on to find the next campsite. We finally came out of the valley yesterday and rode into Guerrero Negro after thirty miles of the flattest, plainest road I have ever ridden. This straight road cut a path from the desert back to the coast and had no scenery except for small shrubs, sand, and one electric pole after another, lining our way toward...
Besides the pump, another brutal loss was my camera. It took a fall one day four feet to the ground and refused to turn on since. I tried my best to fix it, but to no avail. I salvaged the batteries and the memory card, and threw the rest away in a trash bin in Rosario. I have been adament about having Laurel take pictures, and when we finish our time together, there has been some talk about her passing on the camera to me, which was in itself passed on to her by a friend. So for the time being, Im sorry to say there will be no more pictures for a little while.
I have been biking a lot, and although my body still feels fine, it is tired. We slept last night in a cheap motel room, and I loved every second I spent in the bed. Even though we were promised hot water, there was none. And I mean no water, not even cold, until this morning, which added to my disappointment of this meager village.
I look forward to moving on, and relaxing by the warm shores of the sea of cortez. We will most likely hang out the rest of the day, rest our bones, and camp somewhere just outside of town tonight, and then start moving again in the morning.
Until next time,
Chris
Friday, February 5, 2010
Just the Beginning
Greetings from Rosario, Baja California, norte
Well, I have made it halfway down BC norte officially today. We have been averaging about 50 miles a day, which seems to be plenty. The road has been pretty good so far - not so bumpy, not so sandy, except for a couple sections where we had to walk our bikes across about 1km of sand. I would rather have backtracked and biked an extra 20 miles than do that. Lesson learned. Crossing the border was no problem. We crossed at around 8 in the am, and although we tried to find the free road to Rosarito, we ended up on the busy toll road. This put us in quite a predicament, and trying to cross to the other side of the road with cars flying by at 80 km/hr and a five foot ledge in the middle of the road was scary and comical at the same time. We got through there though, and after navigating through some pretty poor parts of Tijuana, found our way toward the coast. The stretch of road from Tijuana to Ensenada is what I remember of it from road trips down - it follows the coast, and there are little developments and big developments all along the way. Most of the big construction has been stopped for the past couple years, and the cement and steel frames of some huge resorts look the same they did several years before. Most of the access to the beach is restricted or private and unless you want to sneak under an old barbwire fence or pay some money, you don´t go to the beach. Our first night we spent in La Mision, 60 km down the coast. We stayed with a couch surfing friend who treated us like kings. He took us to a friends trailer on the coast who barbequed hamburgers with all the fixins´ and we sang old Mexican ballads into the early evening. After that we headed inland a bit on the toll road in a beautiful stretch of hills and plains covered with low lying green vegetation. The road took us back to the coast at Ensenada, and we traveled a bit further for our first night camping in Mexico. Unfortunately, dusk came before we could find a real good spot, and so we settled on a little piece of land just down an embankment from the main road. It was a little sketchy, and could be seen by the road if they were really looking, but no one bothered us and we woke up ok. Our third day took us again away from the coast and up some hills. We ran into a couple from Quebec who was returning on their way back from Panama. They started their trip down to Panama on the east coast a year ago. Yesterday was the worst day by far. Long stretches of flat road rolling by dusty farmlands with crowded roads. Also, our third rider, Jordan, decided to leave us so he could go a bit slower. So now its just Laurel and I. Laurel is proving to be quite a good mate though: She is a well experienced camper, a tough rider, her Spanish is pretty good, and she makes decent conversation at night. Although I would rather be sharing this journey with countless other friends or relatives, she is keeping me from what would surely be some pretty lonely feelings down here.
We made it just south of the farmland and were able to camp in a spot a bit inland from the coast. Today has been some pretty good riding - very few cars. The scenery gives me an impression of what southern california would have looked like before development. Lots of low lying shrub on marsh land. Lots of shore birds, rabbits, squirrels, etc. We have just started to head inland, and will spend the next several days at a higher elevation as move down in the middle of the peninusla, before again returning to the coast at Guerrero Negro. Spots for water seem less available on this stretch according to the map, but we should be fine. I have had no trouble filling my water bottles at little pure water filling stations inside semi large stores at the major truck stops.
The road, although shoulderless, is as I said in great condition. Most people give us space enough, and we get honked at quite a bit. Most honks our enouraging gestures from friendly truckers or travelers, and the occasional one is a pissed off driver urging us to bike in the gravel and sand. Dogs often awake and run after us as we pass by, growling, barking, and trying to bite our legs and bags. A couple dogs befriended us last night at the campsite. In the morning, we found that some of Laurel´s clothes had been dragged off and chewed up. I couldn´t find my sandals either, but after a bit of searching, I recovered both pair, seemingly untouched. The weather has been amazing. Partly cloudy, sunny, warm. It gets a little cold at night sometimes, but nothing too bad. The cloud cover for the most part has been amazing during the day. Today I climbed the steepest hill I ever have on my bike, and then got to ride down the steepest hill as well.
It is interesting for me to travel this way. It is much different than my time in Guatemala, where I spent four months in one spot. Traveling this much everyday, you don´t get the same interaction with people. I could be traveling anywhere really. Except for the occasional converation at a store, I am not interacting much with the locals. I guess it is more of a tour of the scenery, which has its own perks. Sometimes I feel like I could be anywhere in the world.
All in all, things are good. It is weird to be traveling further south everyday, further away from all that I know, with no welcoming party wherever I end up. My bike is still kicking strong, as am I, and I look forward to the new scenery every day.
Well, I have made it halfway down BC norte officially today. We have been averaging about 50 miles a day, which seems to be plenty. The road has been pretty good so far - not so bumpy, not so sandy, except for a couple sections where we had to walk our bikes across about 1km of sand. I would rather have backtracked and biked an extra 20 miles than do that. Lesson learned. Crossing the border was no problem. We crossed at around 8 in the am, and although we tried to find the free road to Rosarito, we ended up on the busy toll road. This put us in quite a predicament, and trying to cross to the other side of the road with cars flying by at 80 km/hr and a five foot ledge in the middle of the road was scary and comical at the same time. We got through there though, and after navigating through some pretty poor parts of Tijuana, found our way toward the coast. The stretch of road from Tijuana to Ensenada is what I remember of it from road trips down - it follows the coast, and there are little developments and big developments all along the way. Most of the big construction has been stopped for the past couple years, and the cement and steel frames of some huge resorts look the same they did several years before. Most of the access to the beach is restricted or private and unless you want to sneak under an old barbwire fence or pay some money, you don´t go to the beach. Our first night we spent in La Mision, 60 km down the coast. We stayed with a couch surfing friend who treated us like kings. He took us to a friends trailer on the coast who barbequed hamburgers with all the fixins´ and we sang old Mexican ballads into the early evening. After that we headed inland a bit on the toll road in a beautiful stretch of hills and plains covered with low lying green vegetation. The road took us back to the coast at Ensenada, and we traveled a bit further for our first night camping in Mexico. Unfortunately, dusk came before we could find a real good spot, and so we settled on a little piece of land just down an embankment from the main road. It was a little sketchy, and could be seen by the road if they were really looking, but no one bothered us and we woke up ok. Our third day took us again away from the coast and up some hills. We ran into a couple from Quebec who was returning on their way back from Panama. They started their trip down to Panama on the east coast a year ago. Yesterday was the worst day by far. Long stretches of flat road rolling by dusty farmlands with crowded roads. Also, our third rider, Jordan, decided to leave us so he could go a bit slower. So now its just Laurel and I. Laurel is proving to be quite a good mate though: She is a well experienced camper, a tough rider, her Spanish is pretty good, and she makes decent conversation at night. Although I would rather be sharing this journey with countless other friends or relatives, she is keeping me from what would surely be some pretty lonely feelings down here.
We made it just south of the farmland and were able to camp in a spot a bit inland from the coast. Today has been some pretty good riding - very few cars. The scenery gives me an impression of what southern california would have looked like before development. Lots of low lying shrub on marsh land. Lots of shore birds, rabbits, squirrels, etc. We have just started to head inland, and will spend the next several days at a higher elevation as move down in the middle of the peninusla, before again returning to the coast at Guerrero Negro. Spots for water seem less available on this stretch according to the map, but we should be fine. I have had no trouble filling my water bottles at little pure water filling stations inside semi large stores at the major truck stops.
The road, although shoulderless, is as I said in great condition. Most people give us space enough, and we get honked at quite a bit. Most honks our enouraging gestures from friendly truckers or travelers, and the occasional one is a pissed off driver urging us to bike in the gravel and sand. Dogs often awake and run after us as we pass by, growling, barking, and trying to bite our legs and bags. A couple dogs befriended us last night at the campsite. In the morning, we found that some of Laurel´s clothes had been dragged off and chewed up. I couldn´t find my sandals either, but after a bit of searching, I recovered both pair, seemingly untouched. The weather has been amazing. Partly cloudy, sunny, warm. It gets a little cold at night sometimes, but nothing too bad. The cloud cover for the most part has been amazing during the day. Today I climbed the steepest hill I ever have on my bike, and then got to ride down the steepest hill as well.
It is interesting for me to travel this way. It is much different than my time in Guatemala, where I spent four months in one spot. Traveling this much everyday, you don´t get the same interaction with people. I could be traveling anywhere really. Except for the occasional converation at a store, I am not interacting much with the locals. I guess it is more of a tour of the scenery, which has its own perks. Sometimes I feel like I could be anywhere in the world.
All in all, things are good. It is weird to be traveling further south everyday, further away from all that I know, with no welcoming party wherever I end up. My bike is still kicking strong, as am I, and I look forward to the new scenery every day.
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