Day 14, the furthest day in the saddle. Its easy to do when the roads are in great shape, visibility clear and no traffic. I’m not a speed demon, which is obvious when riding a KLR. My bike tops out at 160kph (on the speedo) which is actually closer to 145-150 on the more accurate GPS. In hindsight I should have geared down the KLR before leaving by putting a taller front sprocket on. This would help keep RPMs down and fuel consumption lower when traveling at high speeds. There was one stretch of highway in the desert that I tucked into the bike and had the throttle wide open for about half an hour. After a while it started feeling slow cruising at 150, and especially compared to the speeds Ryan’s bike could reach in comparison. The consequence of this speed indulgence was the KLR was burning oil as fast as I could fill it back up.
The great thing was gas was relatively cheap, although far between fillings. At one gas station I decided to push my bike to the side after filling up. I grabbed the handle bars with the bike not running and started pushing the bike, while jogging beside it. Once I got some momentum I jumped up on the side peg to coast to the end of the lot. As I did my one foot clicked down on the gear shifter, the gear engaged and the bike screeched to a stop and started to fall over to the side opposite from me. I grabbed the handlebar and tried to prevent it from dumping, but there was no way I could hold the bike from falling and it whip-lashed me over in high-side style on to my back. Ryan and the attendants heard the crash and all looked over. I could see a WTF look on Ry’s face, and the attendants ran over to help me pick up the bike as I got up with nothing more than a bruised ego.
Government run gas stations
Cool cacti
In the late afternoon dark black clouds formed off to the east. We tried to pick up the pace to avoid the imminent desert storm which can turn sections of the highway into raging rivers. Instead of building bridges over rivers that are dry 99% of the time, they build the road down into the bed of the river then back up the other side. We never saw any water, but I suspect it may cause a few hour delay as you wait for the river to subside.
In an attempt to prevent Baja from becoming a drug trafficking route, the military has setup periodic military checkpoints. Most of the time you approach, they see you are a tourist in a motorcycle and wave you on. Occasionally they are bored and want to stop you to ask about your motorcycle, how much it costs and how fast it goes are the two most popular questions. Unlike Ryan’s bike, the KLR gets very little attention and my responses are usually “its cheap and its slow”. Almost always as you are diving off they want to see you do a wheely. Its tough to push past peer pressure when a whole group of macho military personnel are chanting “wheely” whey holding their clinched up fists up as if to hold handlebars and twisting their wrists. Sometimes I’ll pop a little wheely, but I was never good at stunting and with a loaded up 500 pound bike I wasnt really in the mood to dump the bike while showing off.
This character was straight faced and all business until we started talking motorcycles, by the end we were joking around and he graciously posed for a photo. As a kid I always admired the adventurist side of the army and thought it would be ‘cool’ to one day be out in a remote lands exploring with the latest technology in hand. It was probably the Hollywood heroes that glorified war and made it ‘cool’ , however as I grew older the thought of my job being responsible for taking, not saving lives turned me off pretty quickly.
Most of the military personnel speak enough English to hold a basic ‘where are you going’ conversation. One checkpoint we pulled into had a bit different vibe. They pulled us over and told us to get off our bikes. None of the crew spoke English and they started grilling us in Spanish. The main guy was rattling questions at us as his subordinates stood behind straight faced. We could recognize words like Marajuana, cocania, drugas etc.., knowing they were asking if we had any drugs we started answering every question with ‘no’.
Questions started coming faster and faster and both Ryan and I stood there shaking our heads saying ‘No, no, no’. It wasnt until I noticed one of of the military crew fighting to hold a straight face before bursting out in laughter. I stop answering and say “No entiendo, Sólo un picito español” (I dont understand, only speak a little Spanish). The guys stops and stares at us before saying in perfect, no accent English: “I know I was just messing with you guys, go ahead” and they whole crew bursts out laughing. Ryan and I join in with nervous laughter, and after getting over the initial shock of the incident couldnt stop laughing about it myself. It must get so boring at those stations in the desert, I’m sure I’d do the same thing.
It was hot out and we were burning through water. It was not uncommon to drink a liter of water every hour, never once stopping to take a leak.
The art of drinking without removing your helmet
As the day went on a we were approaching a section that would have long stretches between fuel stops. We knew where gas was available based on the way down. Unless I needed to fuel up I liked keeping my tank as low as possible, kept a lot top weight off the bike. However, I misjudged our wide open throttle riding and as the day closed on us I found myself hitting reserve much earlier than I had anticipated. We were about 100 km from El Rosario (the finish for the day and the next gas stop) and my bike hit reserve. I knew i could stretch about 50km with regular riding, maybe 70 if I took it easy, but no way could I get 100. With that in the back of my mind we just moved forward. Just as the day was closing we came over a long switchback hill climb and my bike cut out – totally out of gas.
The spot the fuel ran dry
We debate siphoning fuel from Ryan’s bike, however, its better to have one bike that can make it to a station than two bike run dry. We decide that I would wait while Ryan makes the 40km run into El Rosario. He left and the sun went down. I had not seen any cars go by and it felt a bit eery. In the desert once the sun goes down it gets really dark, really fast. The night was pitch black and i was out in the middle of Baja alone with no transportation, I’ve seen horror movies start this way.
After about an hour and a half Ry made it back with two water bottles of gas – back in business and lesson learned.
Salvation
We made it back to El Rosario, a town that celebrates its Baja 1000 tradition, found a great little place to crash (sleep), and went out for a few cervezas and tacos before calling it the longest day.
Wall of Fame
