Baja Adventure Ride NBMC & 2WheelTimes

Combined Stories of Doug Byers and Michael Hannas
Photos by Doug Byers

Baja Day One Continued



MH: We continued through the Parque Nacional to visit Ramona at the old Sawmill and get some gas and refreshments.  When we pulled in and parked the bikes, Ramona came out to greet us.  She looked to be around 100 years old as she staggered out of her little shack but of course she would help us refuel our bikes, and let me tell you, she is not afraid to get a little gas on her hands!  She and her old man filled ten plastic gallon milk jugs with what I guess was gasoline out of a big metal drum for us to pour into our bikes.



Roger, being the good guy he is, made sure we all had a refreshing Tecate to enjoy, except for “Una Soda Por Favor” Rob, which is the nickname I gave him because he would end up repeating that phrase over and over throughout the trip.



Joel noticed while we were fueling up that he had a huge nail in his rear knobby and a flat rear tire, and so our troubles began.  He put his bike on the ground and ripped the rear wheel off, and Ramona was kind enough to let him use her stump as a tire-changing stand.  While we had a little extra time to finish our cervezas, Joel proceeded to pull out his ripped tube and pinch his new one while putting it on, with some help from Carl of course.  I knew I should’ve ordered another Tecate.  Jared gave up his tube for Joel; hey, that’s what buddies are for.  A few of the crustier vets had already scavenged Joel’s first popped tube off the ground and were repairing it with some patches while Joel went at it again with a little more patience.

DB: We got off the bikes and starting telling stories with our hands and bodies making funny bruppp noises. Then Joel noticed his rear tire was flat. We now had our first real trail repair of the trip. Roger and Brian went to meet the old lady at the shack and barter for some Tecates and candy bars to help with the repairs, while Dave went to speak with the old man to get us some gas. Not exactly a Chevron, but hey it worked! The guys began tearing apart the bike with the flat and in no time the wheel was off and tube out, exposing a five-inch rusty nail through the tire and tube. Joel then recalled ripping a wheelie over a 2x4 about a mile before the shack. Note to self: “Don't ride over wood or burn piles!” After pinching the first tube, Joel put a new tube in while Roger and Pecore patched the old tube for a back up, then reassembled everything and added air, which stayed in the tube this time.

MH: Meanwhile, I decided to pet Ramona’s kitty that was wandering about looking for something to eat.  Little did I know that Jared had just given the Gato Loco a little piece of beef jerky, which apparently was like kitty-crack to the frisky feline.  I put my hand down to give him a little scratch when he stood up and swatted at my hand in full-attack mode!  I tried to rip my hand away but his claw dug right in and he was still hanging from my finger!  As the blood started to drip I grabbed his paw with my other hand, pulled his claw out of my finger and let him go.  He just kind of looked at me like, “Don’t f@&k with me!”



DB: I began seeing one gallon milk jugs with what looked like gasoline in them being poured into the gas tanks of our bikes. "Was this really gas?" I thought. As it turns out the old man that Froman was talking to had three 55-gallon drums of gas in a shack and he was filling the milk jugs for us. Our group took a jug each, we ate our candy bars and drank a cold one; while some played with the wild cat we called "Ol’ Ugly!" He was a real hunter, when our band of motorcycles rumbled into the shack he got up from under his tree and walked over to check us out and maybe score some pets along the way. Hannas petted Ol’ Ugly and he liked that a lot so he started rubbing on everyone's boots and tires and being nice and friendly. A second later Jared pulled out some jerky and started snacking on a piece while helping Joel change the flat tire. Ol’ Ugly got a whiff of that jerky and pinned it over to him. Jared tossed Ol’ Ugly a piece in the dirt and the nice friendly cat became an aggressive mountain cat, grrrrr, guarding his fresh kill from the naive tourists. He inhaled the jerky in about a second and began digging into the fanny packs and bags lying on the ground trying to find more food. Well, Mr. Hannas likes to play too, so he pulled out un cigarrillo and called over Ol’ Ugly to play a joke on the wild cat, like he had some food or something. Ugly heard him and ran over, and in one motion jumped up and swatted at the cigarette, clawing Hannas in the finger and hooking "Ol’ Hanni" with his claw! Hannas screamed and started cursing at the feline as he grabbed the cat’s leg and paw and struggled to unhook his index finger from Ugly's claw. Ugly growled back at Hannas, and we were all laughing so hard we almost dropped our cervezas. Hannas got his finger back from the cat and let it bleed to clean out the wound from his new blood brother. Dang that cat was quick for an Ol Ugly!



MH: Joel finished putting in his new tube and it held air this time, so we finished up our snacks as he put the wheel back on and got our gear back on.  I swear that backpack got heavier every time I took it off and put it back on somehow…

 


DB: Then we heard some bikes coming from Laguna Hansen, two riders pulled into the shack for fuel, a Tecate and a candy bar! We exchanged some stories, warned them about Ol’ Ugly, and they gave us some GPS coordinates to some sweet single-track near San Felipe. It was a win-win for everyone. They took off and we suited back up with our adventure packs stuffed for four days on a bike, our tool packs and the rest of our gear. Dam that shit is heavy! We were heading towards Ojos Negros for our next fuel stop and break and to ride some of the Baja 1000 course before heading to Valle De La Trinidad and onward to Mike's Sky Ranch that evening. Our group thanked Ramona and her old man and we were off.

DB: We left Ojos Negros and headed south towards Tres Hermanos and our turn-off into the washes east towards Highway 3. This is part of the race course that Froman knows well; he and I paired up with Hannas. Within seconds we were riding at a fast clip within a few feet of each other along the famous two-track. Froman and I had raced together for many years long ago and it only took about two corners for it all to come back to us and the intimate trust we shared long ago was there immediately! That intimate trust is something you don't take lightly when you are counting on the other rider's abilities to keep from crashing and taking both of you out at high speeds. It wasn't long before Dave and I were having the ride of the trip so far, he was covering the right side of the trail and I was a foot off his rear sprocket on the left with Hannas in tow.  I felt like we were pre-running for the Baja 1000 as we rode that sick two-track roosting every clear rise, every turn, every ditch, and every G-out, flying high next to each other at freeway speeds for miles. My adrenaline meter was pegged, Dave's XR650R was roosting a dirt wall within feet of me and his full-race exhaust system roared with an exhaust note I could feel pounding against my chest! Combined with the 100mph fastball rocks the XR throws, my 530 pinned in 5^th seemed tame in comparison! That was some of the most fun I have had on 2Wheels in a long time, after 30 minutes of tire-spinning riding we came to some SCORE Baja race course arrows pointing to the left up a killer sand wash. Dave and I stopped there at the Y and began high-fiving and laughing as we waited for the rest of the group to catch up. I guess we left Hannas behind somewhere in that section. I got a little worried at first, but then I heard his KX450F roaring through the valley. Dave and I sat there for a little while when Hannas finally pulled up, with the rest of the group arriving a few minutes later.  Once everyone was accounted for and a few more high-fives were exchanged, we began riding some more of the 1000 course east toward Trinidad. 



MH: We took off southwest and headed down the mountain towards Ojos Negros.  We got down into the valley and crossed through some farm land to the Pemex station on Hwy 3 at Ojos Negros.  We all filled up with gas and headed south across a sand wash and down a fast dirt road with some cool dips and rises.  I was behind Froman and DB until I backed off a little to get some relief from the XR650 and 530EXC roost-shooters.  I tried to keep pace after I was out of roost range but was having trouble because I was now out of sight range over some of the blind rises and couldn’t tell what was on the other side.  I had one good close call ripping WFO over a blind rise when suddenly the trail turned left much sharper than I was ready for. Thankfully there was a berm and not a huge rock or cactus on the outside of the trail; apparently I wasn’t the first to get sucked into that one.  That was a good eye-opener and I promised myself to take it a little easier for the rest of the trip when I couldn’t see.  It reminded me that you never know what you may come across in Baja on the trail, whether it is a car, a barbed wire fence, a huge ditch, or the Federales with M-16s in hand.  We turned off the road towards the east and ripped through some rocky creek sections and sand washes as we climbed up over a small ridgeline. We got into some really sandy sections where the sand was super deep as we tried to make our way back towards Hwy 3.  The deep sand was pretty fun as long as you were ripping, but when you tried to stop or turn around it got a little interesting.  I’m pretty sure DB had his second bail in this deep sand when we got a little mixed up and were turning around in the stuff and he just fell over. We finally found a gate that opened up to Hwy 3, which we needed to get on to head south towards Valle de la Trinidad, but the hombre who came out of the house near the gate said that he had lost the key and did not have any way to open it.  We couldn’t go any farther south, so we paralleled the highway north for a few miles until we could find a spot to get our bikes underneath the barbed wire fence.  Roger found a good spot, but instead of stopping the rest of the group and telling us, he decided it would be funny to slip his bike under and ride down the highway next to us until we noticed he was on the other side of the fence!  Good one buddy.  We all turned around and went and found the spot he slipped under and dragged our bikes under.  Now speaking for myself, I kept my hand on the clutch and bike running and made sure my handguard didn’t touch the ground when I went under as to not incur another bail.  I won’t name any names but I didn’t see everyone use the same amount of caution, and I’m sure if we go back we can find a few handguard marks in the dirt, although no one claimed a bail mysteriously.

DB: We rode for miles in the washes and trails before finding Highway 3, and surprise surprise, there was a new barbed-wire fence blocking us from the highway, something that is becoming all too common in Mexico now. We rode along the fence line for a while until we saw a little shack and a possible gate to the highway. As we rode onto the property, the owner came out with his dogs to see what we were doing. One of our Baja brothers spoke Spanish so they started discussing our goal of getting thru his gate back onto the highway. The farmer told us he lost his key to the gate and we would have to go back the way we came and find another way to the road. We thanked him and were on our way to find a hole in the fence. We rode for another few minutes and then all of sudden one of our guys, Roger, was up on the highway on the other side of the fence, mocking us. How did he get up there we asked? We all regrouped and he guided us back to a spot in the fence where there was a washout and a gap, we ripped our bikes over to that spot and began going under the barbed-wire fence.  We laid our bikes onto the left side to slide under the fence, something the XR650s in our group didn't like that much apparently. They all developed clutch problems during the trip from that point on. We later figured out that by laying the bikes onto the left side it had drained all the oil out of the clutch basket, and then slipping the clutches to get under the fence caused high enough heat to seize the throw-out bearing and the basket. We lost the clutch in Steve’s XR right there, but he didn’t seem to need a clutch that bad anyway.

MH: We ripped down Hwy 3 south towards Heroes de la Indepencia.  As it was starting to get later in the day and we were moving along pretty good down the highway, I attempted to shut my jacket vents as we were doing about 75mph. I was able to get my right arm vent closed but that was it, so I just suffered for the fifteen miles or so down to town.  We pulled into town and all parked, but we were missing two.  We looked down the road and saw Jared and DB sitting on the side of the road, not moving.  Uh oh!  DB pushed Jared towards the rest of the group with his leg on Jared’s footpeg and we met in front of a small auto repair shop/gas shack.

DB: We made it onto Highway 3 and starting roaring south towards Trinidad as the sun was getting low and the air was turning chilly. We needed some fuel before heading up to Mikes so we pinned it south on the highway until our second major bike problem occurred. Jared’s KTM 450XC, the one with the leaking stator cover from earlier, just stopped running on the highway just north of a little town called Heroes De La Independencia, which is north of Trinidad. We found a little building that looked like it might have some food and gas, so we pulled in to try and perform repairs on the downed bikes as the shadows were growing long.

MH: We all pulled in and parked our bikes while Joel and Jared began to try to figure out why Jared’s KTM just quit.  They determined it was an electrical issue and decided to try Joel’s CDI on Jared’s bike to see if it started.  This promptly fried Joel’s CDI as well and we now had two broken KTMs.  We all figured out that the new stator that Jared had installed to run his new high-powered headlight had fried his CDI as well as Joel’s.

DB: The guys started tearing into the bikes looking for the problem. After about 15 minutes we had no luck on the KTM, the XR problem was obvious, and we were all hungry at this point, so Brian started talking with the locals about getting some food. He jumped into one of their cars, gear and all, and the local took him down the road to a taco stand where they made us some food. In the meantime, the guys are still trying to repair the bikes.  The KTM is starting to look like a CDI problem, so in a true bonehead moment, yours truly suggested they swap the CDI from Joel’s similar model KTM to see if that fixed the problem. Bad move...the broken motorcycle fried the good CDI from the second KTM. Now instead of one broken bike, we had two bikes done. Note to self: “Never use parts off a running motorcycle in the middle of nowhere to try and fix a broken one!”



MH: In the meantime, Pecore had decided to go scrounge up some food for us since it was starting to get dark and we didn’t know how long we would be stuck there in Heroes de la Indepencia.  We weren’t even sure at that point if we would be able to make it to Mike’s Sky Ranch before they shut the kitchen down, so we needed to eat something.  Pecore hopped in the worst-sounding car I’ve ever heard with one of the locals and chitty-chitty-bang-banged his way down the street, after it took the guy five minutes to warm the car up enough to where it would take some throttle without dying.  It was starting to get dark and I was getting pretty cold from riding on the highway and then standing around in the wind.  I had already taken my extra thermal out of my bag and put that on under my jersey, but was still freezing my butt off.  Steve had already managed to somewhat fix a clutch issue with his XR650 with some help from a big rock and at least get it to where it wouldn’t slip and it would stay in gear, although he rode the rest of the trip with no clutch.  He was busy buttoning his clutch back up when a little old Mexican lady wandered out of the little house that was attached to the repair shop and asked us if we wanted any coffee.  Roger said he’d take a cup and I bolted over as soon as I heard “Café?” and said I would gladly take a cup.  The lady took one look at me and with a really concerned look asked “Frio?”  I replied “Si, mucho frio,” as I stood there shivering, just thinking about how nice a warm cup of coffee would be.  She said, “Un momento amigo,” and went back into her house to make the coffee.  She came back out a few minutes later and said the coffee was almost ready, and she had a jacket in her arms.  She held the jacket out to me, offering it to me to wear I assumed, but I shook my head no and pointed at all the dirt and mud on my riding jacket to tell her I didn’t want to get it all dirty.  She shook her head and replied, “No, no!” and kept pushing the jacket in my arms, so I took it and replied “Muchas gracias” and put it on.  She looked satisfied and went back inside to get the coffee for Roger and me.  I was a little worried about drinking the water she used to make the instant coffee but I figured it was boiled and I was so cold I didn’t really care if I got sick at that point.  That was the best cup of instant coffee I have ever had in my life!  It warmed me up just enough to stop shivering and gave me enough energy for the fifty miles or so we had left to get to Mike’s.  Just then Pecore pulled back up with a twenty-pack of burritos, two for each, and we all scarfed those bad boys down like a pack of hungry wolves.  We had decided by then that it was pointless to try to fix the two KTMs since we couldn’t get any CDIs in Baja, and it was also pointless to tow Joel and Jared and their bikes any further away from the truck in Tecate.  Their only option was to hang out in Heroes de la Indepencia and try to get someone with a truck to give them a ride up to the motorhomes at Rancho Ojai.  We hated to leave them behind, but such are the risks you take when you do this sort of ride without any chase truck, so we started to get our gear back on and make sure our lights were all working since it was now pretty much dark. I mounted my little LED bicycle light on my handguard so I would have something, and clipped my red light on my backpack to avoid getting a 250-pound four-stroke enema.  I walked over to the little house to give the senora her jacket and her coffee cup back along with a couple dollars for the coffee, but she just took the cup and said “Gracias,” and wouldn’t take any money no matter how hard I tried.  I then tried to take the jacket off to give it back to her and she got all crazy again and wouldn’t let me give it back!  She kept saying “No, no, you, you!” as she pointed out how the pocket was ripped already anyway.  I tried again to give her some money, “Por la jacketa,” I tried to tell her, but she still wouldn’t take it!  I could see she wouldn’t be happy until I left with the jacket so I told her “Muchas, muchas gracias!” and put my backpack on.



DB: As the sun started relaxing we started scrambling to figure out how to get Joel and Jared and their bikes back to the RVs in Rancho Ojai, which was about a four-hour drive from where we were. Their 2Wheeled adventure was over for now, but their real adventure was just starting.  The wind and cool air is starting to chill us, the sun has set and the wind chill on a sweaty body is starting to have some negative effects on our mental state. The senora at the shack offered us some coffee and some took her up on the generous offer. I was a little worried about the warm water used to make the café, so I declined. Hannas was shivering like a wet scared puppy dog when the senora offered us the coffee, and she told Mike in Spanish to follow her. He followed like a little schoolboy. A few minutes later he returned with a big smile, a new/used jacket and a warm cup of Joe! This lady, who was living poorly with not very much but her positive spirit and loving kindness, gave Hannas a jacket from her house for him to keep. Mike thanked her repeatedly and tried to give her money for the jacket and coffee, but her and her family refused any money. It was their pleasure to be able to help us, her husband explained with broken English and sign language.  Our guides commented that this was the opposite of what they usually try to do in Mexico, which is to leave them with goods, not take theirs!  Only Hannas would manage to actually acquire clothes from the Mexican people! This spoke volumes for the people of Mexico and how willing they are to help total strangers in a time of need. Everyone we met on this trip was like that. What a great culture and friendly villages. Don't get me wrong here; Mexico has its big city problems just like the USA and sometimes worse. But for the most part, people who are isolated from cities are caring, thoughtful and honest. This same family even offered our two “Brokebike Boys” the use of a beat-up trailer to sleep in until they could find a ride!

MH: We fired up the machines, bid farewell to the “Brokebike Boys” and pulled out of town.  Steve nearly took me out when we were taking off when I turned in front of him as he was taking off with no clutch.  I forgot about his extreme starting technique and he slammed into my handguard as he clicked it into gear behind me and took off.  Ooops, my bad, sorry Steve!  We ripped down Hwy 3 in the dark towards Valle de Trinindad.  I just turned my LED bicycle light off on the highway because it wasn’t doing much except probably blinding the cars coming the other way.  I just hung in the pack with DB on one side of me and Roger on the other flank and I could see just fine.  It was starting to get pretty cold again after such a long stretch at high-speed on the highway, so I was happy that the Mexican lady had insisted that I take her jacket with me.  That jacket and the cup of coffee she made us were all that were keeping me going at that point.

DB: The rest of the group suited up and prepared for the cold and dark ride into Trinidad for fuel and then on to Mike's Sky Ranch for some dinner, a warm shower, and a bed. When we arrived in Trinidad we found a gas station with real pumps and all. But only one pump worked in the whole station, so there was a nice-sized line of locals with eight dirt bikers all trying to get fuel at the same pump in the dark. We waited in line while the locals would take cuts. Then a sweet late model Chevy truck pulled up to the open side of the pumps and all the locals stopped talking.  This Mexican guy got out wearing Wrangler jeans, a very nice cowboy hat, and boots. He walked over to the attendant who stopped filling the car and put the pump into the Chevy truck. When it was filled the guy in Wranglers instead of paying for the fuel and cuts in line, forced the attendant to pay him some money. Right in front of everyone this strong-arm collection occurred; then he got back in his nice truck and drove away.  Everyone started talking again, and the attendant began to breathe once more. You don't see that every day.

MH: We stopped in Valle de Trinidad at the Pemex to get some gas, of course both pumps were wrapped up in plastic and only one pump was working, like every Pemex it seemed.  We waited in line forever as it got colder and darker, and then a nice shiny new truck pulled up on the side where the broken pump was. The attendant stopped pumping gas on the side where everyone was waiting and put the gas pump in the nice new truck!  Now I was tired and sick of waiting in line, so I was ready to go see what the hell was going on, when I noticed the demeanor of all the locals waiting in line behind us had changed.  Everyone was kind of looking away from the man in the truck and didn’t seem to be upset at all that he was cutting in front of everyone.  I thought then maybe I should just go with the flow, and just sat and observed. After the hombre’s truck was topped off, instead of giving the attendant some money, the attendant gave the hombre some dinero.  The man then got in his truck and drove off, and you could feel the sigh of relief from everyone in line and the attendant.  I wasn’t sure what exactly I had just seen, but I was so tired I didn’t really care.  We filled the bikes up quickly and took off back down Highway 3 for what seemed like forever again.

DB: Finally we made it to the front of the line and filled up, then roared south on Highway 3 towards the turnoff for Mike’s Sky Rancho. We rode up the dirt road into Mike’s late at night and most of us were very tired. The road into Mike’s was a blur by that time for me, I was so tired from only sleeping about an hour or two the night before then being on the bike for over 12 hours.

MH: We turned off the highway finally and headed up the dirt road to Mike’s Sky Ranch.  It was still cold but the speeds were slower in the dirt so I was able to warm back up.  We all stayed close together in a little pack so we could maximize our light coverage, and took it easy so no one rode off a cliff.  I turned my LED back on and pointed it towards the ground, and with my wingmen Roger and DB lighting up each side of me, I could see just fine.  Although it was almost nine at night by now, we had been on the bikes for twelve hours almost, and we had yet to eat dinner, I was actually still having fun putting up the dirt road in the dark.

After what seemed like forever, we finally crossed a creek and headed up the hill to Mike’s Sky Ranch.  Seeing the sign all lit up was almost too good to be true.  We were finally there!  We pulled the bikes in under the alcove and parked them next to the pool, all to the cheers of the other two groups on the NBMC ride, who had already showered and ate dinner, not to mention got a few beers in.  We washed up and hit up the kitchen to eat dinner still in our gear, which the staff at Mike’s thoughtfully kept warm for us knowing we would be coming with appetites.  After grubbing down some tasty steaks with rice, beans, and the best tortillas ever, we washed it all down with a couple cervezas and hit the showers.

I guess the guys at Mike’s were tired that night or low on fuel, because as soon as we were done with dinner and I went into the shower, they turned the generators off.  All of a sudden it was pitch black.  Pecore had warned us on the drive down that when they turn the lights off at Mike’s, it gets really dark.  I now knew what he meant, as I couldn’t even see the bathroom door two feet in front of me.  I felt my way to the door and over to my backpack to find my flashlight, and then took a relaxing shower by flashlight.  I dried off and hit the sack, and passed right out despite the World Snoring Championship going on amongst my three fellow roomies.

I awoke when I heard the door shut and Rob stumble back in the room.  I heard raindrops outside and all of a sudden really had to take a leak.  I knew I couldn’t make it over to the bathroom without tripping over four pair of boots, so I just opened the door and went outside.  It was pouring outside!  Only a few hours earlier before we went to bed the stars were out and the sky was clear, and now it was raining.  I hope it stops before the morning I thought and went back inside to bed.

Log on tomorrow for Day Two of our Baja Adventure...