The Flight of Bear Canada
The harbor at Mazatlan.
The beaches north of Mazatlan
I headed north. The road north was nice. I felt better heading north. The heat was still there in the high 40C's. I started to ride without my jacket and gloves. I had to stop every couple of hours to apply sunscreen. Of course after a while I started to look black from both the tan and applying sunscreen to the road grime on my arms.
The day was more of the same. I stopped in a OXXO and was scarfing down an ice cream bar. I thought everything was nice. Until I saw some municipal cops come into the store to buy drinks. The driver just had a Beretta M92F pistol, but his partner also had a nice H&K G36 assault rifle carried in front. This was one of the few indicators of the troubles in Mexico. But aside from that, there was nothing. I wasn't robbed, threatened or assaulted. The bike wasn't even touched. My alarm did go off a couple of times, but all my gear was still on the bike. I wasn't harrased going through the checkpoints. Half the time I was just waived through. And when I did get searched it was just a search of just a couple of bags. The biggest threat in Mexico was traffic and physical conditions of the roads in the towns. (Did I mention how I hate topes?)
To be honest, I am already looking at returning. I have a Guia Roji. (Mexican road atlas) The Mexican version is far better than the Rand McNally version that I carry. Next time I would look at bringing a GPS to compensate for the lack of street signs. Also I would just carry clothes and a stripped down tool kit. (I always bring too much tools.) The lighter bike handled so much better.
I stopped in Hermosillio. The town looked quite nice and clean. I almost thought I accidentally crossed the border.
I arrived back in Mexicali. The weather had gotten cooler. But the wind had started to pick up and things got a bit dusty. I stopped at the border and saw that the line up was tolerable. I stopped to cancel my papers. When that was all said and done, the border line up had increased. I waited in line. The amount of people running around, hawking goods, made it a little too hazardous to split lanes, so I just waited in the traffic, which was actually rolling along.
The wind on the other side was way worse. I was nearly blown to Yuma.
I rode west back to San Diego. I stopped at C&D Cycle and picked up the ABS sensor I had ordered the last time I was in San Diego. I also stopped at A-1 Storage to retrieve the camping gear I had left. The V-Strom was carefully reloaded and transformed into an overloaded beast. I then rode north and holed up in a hotel in Van Nuys.
Riding straight home would mean 4 days up I-5. But I felt refreshed. Normally my routine involves riding, and then updating the website with my travel diary. Typing is easy, but then there is the time consuming detail of going through my pictures. So I had just ridden since Mazatlan. That was a nice therapeutic break. But I still felt like I could squeeze another week in. I decided to ride back east, heading towards the Wild West.
Contents Copyright (C) Michael Fodor 2012.