Baja Divide

Overview

Highlights

• Centuries-old missions and oases
• Unique flora and fauna in desert and marine biomes
• Charming but "real" small cities of Mulege, Loreto & La Paz
• Beautiful rural expanses, friendly locals

Challenges

• Long stretches between resupplies, especially water
• Unpredictable road conditions

Trip Story

February 2

I'm anxious because I still hate flying with a bike. It seems like something always goes wrong or gets damaged, and they're a huge pain to lug around. Both boxes are overweight. We juggle gear around to move some of it into a normal checked bag. Which we should have done from the start.

Our flights are uneventful, except for an hour delay from PHX to SAN. A server at the brewpub chats to us about our trip. We need to come back with pics on our return flight. Land and take an Uber to our Warmshowers host in Coronado. Sue and Craig let us in and we exchange brief hellos and get the tour. They return to their game of Baja Rummy while we start unpacking and assembling our bikes in the garage. Things are pretty quick except Leah has a bent bolt that holds the rear rack on. Really bent. We plan on a stop at the hardware store on the way out tomorrow, then say our goodnights and head to bed.

February 3

We wake and shower, and Sue has breakfast going before 8. We chat while she finishes and Craig arrives back from men's church club. We hang out and talk for a while - about their jobs (now both retired, Sue is an ex Genentech employee!) - touring and hosting, New Mexico and San Diego and Baja and bike commuting and parking. We mention the bent bolt on Leah's bike and Craig jumps at the chance to fix it, quickly finding a replacement and cutting it to size.

We roll out in the sunny but slightly foggy coastal breeze, following a greenway trail for several miles south on Coronado Island and into Chula Vista. We meet another bike tourer who just finished riding the Southern Tier across the US. It's a funny contrast - she is at the end of her long journey and we're only a few miles into ours. Leah is overheating in her wool shirt, so we detour to a Ross and she finds a very loose, neon green synthetic thing. Definitely function over form. More riding through city streets of varying busy-ness, and we strike out at another Ross but get sandwiches nearby. Finally we leave the bustle and get on singletrack for a mile or so around a lake, then back on the now-mostly-empty road as we slowly climb.

We turn off at Pio Pico campground and eat ice cream. The road up to Otay Mountain is gated, and the presence of a few Border Patrol trucks milling around the parking lot makes us nervous, but we finally just hoist bikes over the gate and start pedaling up. I'm glad this is manageable without removing any bags. It's already 4:30 and we have a six mile, 2,600-foot climb left, plus almost as much downhill, so we'll be finishing in the dark.

It's steep and slow going but the sunset views of San Diego, and then Tijuana, and the hills and ocean make it quite bearable. I ride ahead, or stay behind, to get some shots of Leah riding in the landscape with good light. It gets dark. The stars come out one by one. The same Border Patrol truck passes us several times. After an hour of pushing our bikes and pedaling in the dark, we get to the top of Otay Mountain. Time for the fun part. We fly downhill, passing in and out of pockets of warm and cold air as we swoop through the slightly sandy turns, illuminating the road with the flat light of our headlamps.

At the bottom, we cross the wilderness area boundary and are now able to set up a camp. We start our first fire with a twig stove. It's smoky and needs tending because it burns through fuel quickly. But it works. Mac and cheese, lemon pepper tuna, Greek seasoning. The moon rises over the hill toward the east. We drink Emerson's leftover spiked cider mixers from Turkey with some Fireball I bought at the campground store. We do stretches in the dirt road under the moon. Leah does real stretches, I just move around until something feels uncomfortable and then I hold it. Little awkward motions. We rode well into the dark, so we don't get to bed until 10:45. We can see the city lights of Tecate on the horizon. We hear a very vocal frog. Where could it be? It's so dry here!

February 4

We wake up and get our first look at where we camped, in the light. Hills, powerlines, and dirt roads head off in several directions. There is a recreational shooting area a few hundred yards away. The distant hills are covered in smooth round boulders, all the way to the top. It looks new and strange, but vaguely reminds me of the terrain around Truckee and Lake Tahoe, minus all the evergreens. Vegetation here is short and scrubby, with the exception of dry streambeds that are crowded with trees.

We ride down the dirt road, passing a few large puddles in the road (maybe where the frog was!?) to a state highway, and head immediately up a hill. Leah insists that if I'm going to ride in front, she carry the bike pump to fix potential flats so she doesn't get left behind. After a quick mile we depart the state highway to putter along side roads and small canal service roads, constantly checking the map to stay in route. We meet back up with the state road and begin a looong gradual climb. It's hot, windy (and winding) and heavily trafficked with little shoulder. It's not that fun. I'm frustrated. I pull off to find shade and rest and wait for Leah to catch up every now and then. We finally turn and zoom downhill to the Tecate border, another mile.

We awkwardly walk around trying to find the right building to get our visas (the process is much easier for cars, which just go through the drive-thru). We're instructed to cross the street, pay the fee at another building, go back to the first one and get the stamp and paperwork. We meander through Tecate and stop at the supermarket (wow!) and then get tortas for lunch at Noe, a casual bungalow type place with a very small awkward funnel-like parking lot. We fill up our water bottles there and ride out.

The ride out of Tecate is mostly absurdly steep and twisty pavement punctuated by flat spots, weird turns, and finally a pasture crossing to get back to the highway. We fuss to lift the bikes over the guardrail, only to see it ends 100m down the road. We coulda walked around. We ride another ten miles or so on the state highway - another interminable, windy, and busy climb. I don't feel very hot but am still gulping down water. Exposure? Boredom? We load up on water at the last convenience store before the route turns off into more remote roads. A couple of trucks of police parked there, hanging out, men and a few women. They chat with us and seem to know where we're headed. I guess Baja Divide cyclists are common enough here.

Our water has to last us the next 64 miles. I attempt to pack all in a way that fits easily on the bike and doesn't bounce around too much. My front basket is both the easiest, yet most flimsy carrying apparatus. It's a bit of a gamble. We follow dirt and sandy roads as the houses dwindle. A crowd of dogs runs out to see us, Leah cowers, I get frustrated because they seem playful to me. Yippy, maybe a bit angry. She gets upset at my cavalier-ness, for which I apologize later at camp.

The route finally starts to descend, and we pick our way down an intermittently bumpy and eroded road to Cañon Manteca, a large flat field with some cows. We decide to camp here - it's flat and private enough. On a positive note, we're finished hours earlier than last night! Leah has leftover torta from lunch and I make a burrito with our grocery supplies, so dinner is a quick no-cook affair. We gaze up at the stars, share a Tecate (purchased in an eponymous locale!) and do a few minutes of stretching. There are frogs ribbitting in the distance somewhere, just like last night. Maybe there's a cow pond nearby?

February 5

The wind picked up around midnight and didn't let up all night. The tent was stretched and billowed and the poles were bending at awful angles. Leah got out to tension the lines and stakes (I somehow slept through this), and I later put in the second pole to hold up the door. Neither of us got much sleep. About as bad as in Kaş. In the morning I noticed the rear arch pole had bent and one of the front grommets on the tent had ripped out, and the zipper was jamming. Oof. A rough first night in Mexico. Wind persisted through breakfast, and we were all too eager to get out of there.

Downhill through farmland. Abandoned cars periodically appear on the side of the road. The road consists of steep, rutted uphills followed by more mellow uphills. A trio of men on dirtbikes pass us and stop to talk, they are from the US. They give us a few tips on future sections - namely that the route from the coast to El Coyote takes longer than people think. Shortly afterward, a couple of military trucks pass us, full of guys riding in the back and one standing manning the huge turret-mounted gun over the cab. Whoa. They wave and smile.

Landscape widens out to reveal views of slightly bigger, more distant rocky outcroppings. They are not quite mountains, but more than hills. We stop at an almost-oasis, with giant shade trees but no water, and eat our oranges and snacks. A few miles later, we near the top of the big climb. The military trucks pass us going the other way this time, and stop to check in and give us a bottle of water. Score!

We stop for lunch where scrubby bushes start to give way to ranches and rural homes, around the high point of the day. Downhill from here. The road is surprisingly sandy but we've lowered the PSI in our tires and it's mostly fun and fast. Trees arch over the road and provide some shade and scenery. We're dumped out in a vast flat field and turn right onto a main road for a mile before leaving it to climb again... endlessly, sometimes steeply, through an empty burnt hillside. We pass a campground/hostel thing that looks nice. A sign advertises essential amenities: "Coffee wifi laundry". There is a road grader parked in the driveway, idling. The road itself is evidence that someone's on the job - it's half graded, half sandy in parts. We weave back and forth across the road looking for the smoothest surface, but it's tricky.

I spot some vibrant blue birds flying back and forth across the road, Leah says they are Mexican Jays. Their squawk is a bit less obnoxious than the variety in the US, I decide. We camp in a dry riverbed (I know, I know) and set out sewing the tent where it ripped from the wind. All goes smoothly; we make a good team. Leah improvises a thimble out of a small cosmetics bottle cap.

The temperature drops and we get chilly. We eat dinner of bayo beans, rice, cochinita pibil and cheese. We decide the beans-in-a-bag hierarchy is as follows (to be revised later):

1. La Sierra Negros (El Experto en Frijoles)
2. Isadora (solid)
3. Chata (good variety but expensive)
4. Rancherita (weird texture)

We stare at the stars and I tell Leah the constellation of Orion depicts the hunter pulling his bow back, not with a sheathed sword in his belt (subsequent research reveals I was clearly full of nonsense and Orion is holding a shield and club. But I saw what I saw). Leah does stretches in the arroyo but I only do jumping jacks to try to warm up before bed. I give up and climb inside and fall asleep before writing down any notes or saying I love you.

February 6

We wake around 7:15 to a thin layer of frost outside. Our water bottles rattle with small ice chunks. But we linger in bed and the air warms up quickly. We prepare breakfast and coffee. The road is pretty, with tall, dense trees arching overhead, then it opens up to ranch land with long straight stretches. At a hilltop we see a small shrine. It's one-square meter turquoise cement building accessed via rock stairs leading up to an outcropping above the road. Outside in the shrubs below is a pile of old candles and flowers. Is this the prettiest and best smelling trash heap ever? We reach the high point for the entire trip a few miles later. It's uneventful, with no views but lots of heat. We have a snack and I wander into the woods to poop.

From here the riding is lots of fun, with a fast, swooping downhill through trees and boulders and rock slabs as we creep back into the edges of civilization. As we ride through a big burned area, my basket feels loose and I stop. At that moment, the bolt that holds my basket and my cargo cage to the fork falls out. Good timing, I suppose. I reassemble it and check all the other bolts, then continue, warily. We cross a surprising stream at the bottom of one descent, near an abandoned ecotourism village. It's the first consistent water source we've seen since...?

The road slowly descends until we are in a large flat agricultural valley. The land is surprisingly green compared to what we've ridden through. A steady stream of cars and trucks bumps down the wide, washboarded dirt road. As we pass Poblado Puerta Trampa the crew of local dogs greets us. Leah is nervous but we keep rolling and I yell and flail and they get bored quickly and stop chasing us. A few more miles and we arrive in Ojos Negros, a small town with a bunch of houses but not much public infrastructure visible beyond a small cement park. There is a nice grocery store where we restock and fill up on water.

This is my first time seeing the self-service agua purificada stations common throughout Mexico, and I love it. A simple dispenser fed by gravity from a holding tank on the roof. A reverse osmosis system for purification. Bring your own bottle and refill for a peso or two per liter. Fast and clean and cheap and waste-free and readily available, even in small towns. This is the way!

The route south out of town is a small paved road with dirt frontage paths on both sides, which a lot of people are walking on. I wonder where to. Leah notices an abundance of what appears to be arugula growing on the side of the road here. She tastes it, and confirms. She is about to start picking a bunch to add to our dinner but decides that it being on the roadside and surrounded by trash and animal poop is not that appetizing. We cross the main highway (Route 3?) and the road turns to dirt, still flanked by fences and endless pastures. We stop to take photos of the sun dipping behind the distant hills, and dogs chase us as we resume riding. I squirt one in the face with my water bottle and it stops in its tracks and yelps, even rolling on the ground. Suffice it to say I'll be trying this tactic again (just need to keep the bottle with the squirt top full at all times!). Finally the fence line turns a corner and peels away from the road, and we climb a tiny bit to a small saddle in the hills. There are sufficient bushes for privacy and the land is flat enough. And the horse and cow poop is dry enough it can be easily kicked away. We cook beans, salami, tomato sauce, and cheese, with leftover tortillas (which are heavily frayed from three days on the road). Desert is rehydrated milk with Triki-Trakes cookies from the store (similar to Chips Ahoy). Great idea. I take some photos of the town lights on the horizon.

February 7

It's dim and foggy in the morning but we still get up before 7. Everything is damp and dewy, the bike bags and helmets we left out are dripping. The valley where we're headed, and Ojos Negros, where we came from, are both shrouded in fog. It's beautiful. And a bit chilly. Adding powdered milk to our oats has turned it into a sweet and creamy luxury. So much so that I forget to drink my cold coffee - to which I have also added powdered milk. The decadence of lactose! The tent is soaking wet and weighs twice what it normally does, but we pack it up anyway. Time to go. The sun finally breaks through the clouds, but it's too late for us to dry anything, and we set off in the pleasant but rapidly warming landscape.

We fly downhill, then settle into a very long and gradual twenty mile uphill that will consume much of the day. We're faced with a series of gates today, and the first one is the toughest. Locked, steel, about shoulder height. I climb over and Leah hoists the bikes up to me then I wrestle them over the top, while standing on rungs in the middle of the gate and trying not to slip or fall backward. Subsequent gates are of the simpler "wood and wire" variety that we can open ourselves. Whenever I see one, I pedal ahead and open it with an elaborate show of gallantry so Leah can ride through.

I am struck by how green everything is after Ojos Negros. It feels dry but also lush. The trees and bushes are taller, fields and pastures are vibrant. There are more short ups and downs too, much to my chagrin. Small dry creek beds at the bottom of each one. We pass a man in a truck right before the climb starts to get rough; the only other traffic we'll see today. Around 1 PM, after twenty miles of mostly uphill, we reach the high point of the day and eat lunch. The view to the west, where we're headed, is more mountainous, with ridgelines beyond ridgelines and distant low clouds. The initial descent is quite gnarly. Rocky, loose, and steep. Walking is mandatory for a couple of sections, but the rest are kind of a fun test of our mountain bike skills, albeit in a different context. The downhill lasts for ten miles, with a few short climbs to break it up. We sweep downhill, turn corners to see the road surface disappear into fingers of eroded soil, and pick our lines in the moment. Fifty meters later we find out whose road disappears into a rut and whose merges smoothly back with the road. It's fun, fast, and entertaining.

We grin and whoop down to the edge of Ejido Uruapan. A medium sized black snake appears in the road, squirming out of the way as my tires pass by. I see it but am a bit lazy in trying to avoid it. We've seen a few small snakes up to this point, both dead and alive, but this is the most impressive one. The edge of town is marked by sprawling vineyards, though they are leafless and rather stark (dormant, I hope). At low elevation the mountains loom even larger overhead. The breeze and fog make the coast feel imminent, though I think we're still a ways away.

In town we go to a small hotel run by a man named Enrique and his wife Anita. It's pricey but we decide we need it; the room is beautiful as is the patio and landscape. We chat about the arrangement and the property, in both English and Spanish so all of us can understand. Leah and I shower (it's warm but not hot), do laundry in the sink, and air out the tent to dry. We walk the few blocks to the main street and find a tiny take-out restaurant. Birria ramen, quesataco, and torta ranchera. We try to balance coins on a floating lemon while we wait ("ganar un premio!"). We bring the food back to the room and eat on the patio. With wifi and service my phone is blowing up and overwhelming me, but I wade through the noise and text friends and family.

February 8

We wake around 7:15 and twenty minutes later Enrique brings coffee, tea and small breakfast bagels to the room on a wooden serving tray. Leah and I rest it on the arms of our two large armchairs, side by side, and enjoy breakfast (part 1 of 2, since it's light given our biker appetites). We say goodbyes and ride out of Uruapan on the paved highway, past several vineyards and into Santo Tomas. The handful of houses on the vineyard estates look very nice; I wonder if it's a lucrative business here. We stop at a tiendita in Santo Tomas for supplies and our second breakfast of burritos and cookies. The owner is happy that we speak Spanish and ride bikes, and tells us about his son who was a downhill mountain bike racer. We leave the pavement again and climb a hot, steep hill that tapers off into rolling hills after a few miles. There is still minimal but consistent car traffic as people and workers drive to and from the small houses and few vineyards in this high valley. Some nice buildings out here. White stucco, courtyards, horses, etc. Leah lights up at the sight of a property named Rancho Chocolate.

A sedan drives by us (twice, somehow) with a ladder and spool of cable mounted on the roof, blaring a telecom advertisement. The noise is loud and focused, making it easy to hear from afar. Shortly after, a truck passes us with a couple sitting in lawn chairs in the back. They wave. Up and down climbing then we finally get our first view of the coast. It feels like California. It is California, duh. The final drop to the coast has some janky downhill sections. This introduces us to a common pattern on Baja's hilly backroads: the road will fork before it gets steep. One fork will be direct, steep, eroded and rocky; the other will be a more sweeping, gradual descent (or ascent) at the expense of a slightly longer (but maybe still faster) path. Sometimes we split up and see who chose better, sometimes we both stick to the obviously better path.

We arrive at Coyote Cal's hostel for camping. It's a curious place. It seems geared towards the dirtbike/moto crowd, and reflects tourist prices, but is the only game in town. Leah is a bit bummed about surf spots being far away and the break is maybe too big for comfort. The hostel rents surf gear but doesn't really seem to have much information about the beaches or breaks, or seem that enthused about surfing. It's just not their clientele.

We walk down to watch the sunset and climb rocks to the point. Cormorants sit on the rocks, gulls glide by, and local families with kids wander around for the evening. Big waves crashing. I take lots of photos. Leah has a good eye (cormorants perching in front of the setting sun, sunset reflection in the window of an abandoned house). Talk about the sadness of unfinished dreams in these structures.

Dinner at the hostel is curry chicken and vegetables. And big house margaritas. Why not lean into the schtick, I figure. We sit by the fire and are soon joined by the large crowd of dirtbikers. They are curious and friendly but a bit raucous and dominant in conversation. Leah goes to bed, I stay up with the crew drinking and laughing. They're crass but modest and interested in our trip. They buy me drinks, give us a few miscellaneous supplies for the morning (electrolytes, beef sticks, XL rain gear). I finally head to bed around 10:30.

February 9

I barely dodge a hangover. A consistent dull throb echoes behind my eyes all day. Fair. We wake to find a handful of mosquitoes buzzing in the tent, which concerns us because dengue fever is increasingly found in Baja. We notice a small hole in the mesh at the foot end of the tent, and promise to patch it and zip the tent all the way up when we come and go.

Most of the moto guys left early, so no goodbyes. The owner says they had 66 margaritas between the thirteen of them last night, which makes their 7 AM departure rather impressive. Leah and I cook oatmeal in the downstairs of the hostel, charge our devices, and pack up. The ride to Erendira is quick. It's dusty and small with a huge dry riverbed in the middle and a couple of abarrotes stores. We stop in one and grab a few things. I like the open air nature of it, the simple wooden shelves. Just enough of the essentials.

We meet a father and son from Alberta who are touring Baja in their Land Cruiser. The dirt bike crew told us about how they had to all pull together on a rope to haul them back onto the road from an embankment that the truck was stuck on. Yikes. The road passes a natural rock blowhole near the ocean, but the tide is out so the geyser effect is not happening. Still, we find where the "underground" passage surfaces, and feel the cool air getting pumped through it from the waves. I take some photos of waves crashing dramatically on the shore, and explore the tide pools to find big sea urchins and seaweed. We see fins emerging from in the waves - a pod of dolphins is meandering lazily along the coast. Like us.

We pedal inland, past some cows. I swear they are enjoying the sea breeze... one is sticking its neck out and almost smiling. Moto whoops on the trail are kinda fun, when they aren't full of rocks. Despite the landscape being shadeless and exposed, we somehow encountered a huge grove of trees near an old farm, the perfect spot for lunch. Until Leah steps in cow poop.

The ride to Punta Colonet takes us past beautiful expansive fields of silvery grass, rippling in the wind. The town itself is dusty, split by a highway down the middle, with dirt frontage road parking lots and lots of small businesses. Leaving town we pass rolling hills and the occasional ranch. We set up the tent on the only flat spot we can find, a small hill, and hope it won't be too windy. We patch the holes in the tent mesh with duct tape. A herd of cows walk down the road, mooing and looking skeptically at us. A few minutes later they come back and form a semicircle around the tent as we sit inside. Their behavior is simultaneously ominous and endearing. They seem genuinely curious. They stare at us and shuffle. Some munch grass or head butt into each other's sides to make room. Dinner is refried beans, chilorio, rehydrated rice with veggies, zucchini, and tomato sauce seasoning (maybe this will save water compared to real sauce?). Frogs are once again ribbitting near the road at night; they found us somehow.

Notes

• Wood stove needs lots of tending and is sooty, but burns well. Works great as a windscreen.
• Bike basket is very convenient but contents can bounce, a lot
• I sewed a frame bag for this trip and it didn't fall apart. Win.
• Talc powder was great as for butt/anti-chaffing AND a shoe deodorizer
• Wet Wipes are only minimal weight penalty, and are disposable. Being able to clean off every night in the tent provided a big boost to comfort and morale.
• Squirt chain lube kept my chain quiet for a long time, and was quick to reapply.
• I understand the appeal of a kickstand. Laying the bike down takes effort and crushes whatever is in your side bags.