I headed north towards La Paz (again). The road starts out as pure sand, then becomes paved with massive potholes, and shortly thereafter is pleasantly paved, the entire ride taking a mere 3 hours give or take that quickly went by as I gorged on RadioLab podcasts as I often do on long rides.
La Paz is the capital city of Baja Sur, and is a popular tourist spot for Mexicans and gringos as well. It boasts an impressively long malecon along the sea of Cortez, with statues dotting the entire length on one side, and restaurants bars and shops on the other. Most people come here for beach activities, and there is some impressive diving and snorkeling on Isla Espíritu Santo.
I planned to stay in La Paz for a day or two to catch up on writing some of these blog posts, which you all surely have already read. On the way in to my hotel I spotted a fellow traveler, though less mechanized.
I don’t recall who recommended the hotel to me, but after some difficulty finding the place I arrived at Hotel Yeneka, oftentimes more museum than hotel. Directly outside I spotted Rob, another adventure rider.
He and his buddy where headed on the ferry to Mazatlán and then Durango in about an hour, so sadly we didn’t have a lot of time to chat.
I checked in and was given the Erotico room, watched over by Dr. Sexoloco.
Charming and hilarious, to say the least. I mentioned the Hotel Yeneka is more art museum than hotel, and there are collections of just…stuff…everywhere you walk around. Lounging in the courtyard can prove difficult as your eye always catches something regardless of where you look. Everything here has been collected over the last 60 years.
I met some other travelers as well; here is Alan and his son Peter. Alan is pushing 90 years old, but still traveling strong!
Anyway. I spent the next few days updating this blog, shipping some things back the U.S. and generally just hanging out. I hit up this gringo bar called “The Shack” a few times, as it was owned by the same guy who used to own Emo’s back in Austin. Pretty wild!
There also I met Cameo and Kristof, a lovely couple from Canada. From what I gathered, in the summertime Kristof and Cameo are the harbor masters for an island up north there, and leave every winter to travel south in their steel-hulled boat the “Slade Green.” We shared some beers and stories for about two nights, though the funniest part I recall is when Kristoff said “You know you’re not going home with her, right Tex?”
Sir! I have morals!
Great people, I hope to run into them again one day!
Eventually though, it was time to pack up and hit the mainland.
The main ferry company is Baja Ferries, however their ferry to Mazatlán was out of order, it was supposed to be back running the day I left but they pushed it to the end of March. There was another service running to Topolobampo, as well as a commercial ferry to Mazatlán, but I didn’t have too many details about it.
Procuring a ticket was easy enough, and I opted for the cabin as well since it turned out it would leave at 2AM, with an 8 hour journey to Topolobampo. Total cost was $190.06. Not cheap, but not too bad either.
As instructed by the pretty cashier I took the road up to Pichilingue around 10 PM (the ferry supposed to leave around 2AM), and proceeded to soil myself (figuratively) as my headlight began to flicker off. Something was broken, and I prayed I wouldn’t hit some goat in the middle of the night on my way to the ferry. Luckily, leaving my highbeams on caused no problems and I had light the entire way.
Upon arrival I was promptly laughed at by the aduana guards, telling me that if I really wanted to wait around I could, but it’d be better to come back around 1:30AM to board the ferry.
So, back to town it was, where I met up again with Cameo and Kristoff at the Shack, before turning around a few hours later to go back to the ferry.
Once at the terminal, you proceed through the aduana (customs) entrance. They instruct you to step off the motorcycle, walk over to a large button and press it. A small light is above the giant red button; if it turns green you’re free to go, if it turns red, time to unpack all your stuff and expose it for a thorough search. It was bizarre.
My light came up green so I off I went to wait at the terminal.
Pulling up, I spotted a group of BMW bikes.
I parked, dismounted, made sure my gear was secure and headed in to wait for 30 minutes until the ferry arrived.
Silly me, I forgot we were on Mexican time! The wait would turn into 3 hours, with everyone finally boarding at 5AM in the morning. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
In the terminal I started chatting with what turned out to be one of the BMW riders, a guy around my age named Andi. He was German, as were most of his compatriots, and they were headed to the Copper Canyon. Immediately I was intrigued; this was a place I had wanted to ride, but definitely not alone, so I asked if I could ride with and he graciously acquiesced.
Eventually, the ferry arrived, we boarded our motorcycles, and proceeded to wait in a line while every truck went before us.
There was some interesting cargo.
And some truckers clearly took pride in their vehicles as well.
Still, we waited.
Finally, we were waved on board.
When boarding, you ride up a ramp and are then directed to strap down your bike somewhere. I had no straps alas, which the Germans thought was foolish and funny. Luckily I found a chain I could use, and, this being a newer ship with gyroscopic stabilizers I wasn’t too worried about the bike falling over.
The bikes secured, we headed upstairs. If you don’t get a cabin, you get to sleep in a chair.
I found my cabin, and lo and behold, I had four bunk beds. Not seeing much of the point to use this whole room to myself, I invited my new friends to use some of the beds, and they eagerly accepted. So we all crammed in a room and got a few hours of sleep. Breakfast was served at 8AM, simple fare of eggs and ham with a side of beans (a Mexican standard), and a few beers for some truckers from what I could see. A bit early eh boys?
Packing up, we unloaded our bikes, headed to the parking lot and geared up for a short trip to Choix.
The landscape and the people change immediately; the first thing I noticed was the vast amount of animals on the side of the road compared to Baja. Some were tied up, some were not, a stark reminder that hey, maybe it’s not a great idea to ride at night if you can help it. Poverty seems to be a bit more present as well.
We rode east, passing through huge trees, the mountains looming as we got closer to Choix. I think we arrived around 4PM, I can’t remember anymore, but I do recall it taking us a while to find the hotel that Stefan, one of the other German riders, had booked for everyone. Mostly because it was unlabeled, oops.
We did manage to find it though, and while the upstairs was under a remodel it was pleasantly comfortable and very secure.
That evening we all piled into the back of the owners pickup truck and headed to a local chicken place, the only thing open on a Sunday night.
We came back and found a nice table set up, and proceeded to enjoy a great meal.
The owner even came out and gave us some tequila from his local stash. Muy delicioso.
Needing some much needed rest, we all crashed pretty early, eager to tackle the Copper Canyon and reach Batopilas in the morning.