Let's start this off right - with a self-portrait.

I’ll warn you – long post.  There’s just an overwhelming assault on the senses when you ride into a foreign land, even if it’s “only” Mexico, our close neighbor…

Today started out with a couple French press coffees and plenty of caffeine at The Griddle (awesome spot) as Jonathon and I laughed about last night and plotted plans for his first movie…

Wagner is ready. Baja bound.

I jump on the bike and throw on a playlist, and what better way to start the trip than “Into the Mystic” by Van Morrison.  Exactly how I feel.

I left LA way too late (noon, heh), and I found myself on the slab, in bumper-to-bumper traffic.  Talk about anti-climactic.  Let me tell you, LA traffic would take some getting used to, but I’m pretty sure I’d end up in prison before I got used to it if I lived here.  The one redeeming quality is the fact that you can amuse yourself by splitting lanes.  This law was clearly made by and for riders.  Unreal.  It can’t be safe!  But wow, is it fun.

I admit, I was hesitant at first, thinking, this cannot be legal, can it?  Then another rider missed my right wing by inches as he blazed past me between cars.  Yikes.  So, let it begin.  (Insert:  I get that this is probably not a big deal to any riders in California, but for a first-timer, it’s something.  Stop rolling your eyes.)  My first few moves were made with an advanced heart rate and disbelief that I could make it between the cars ahead – the converging lines played tricks on your mind making the gap appear smaller than it was, but there was always enough room.  The only issue were those monster SUV’s with mirrors salvaged from lunar landers.  Do they really need to see ALL the way around the car?

After doing this for a while, I started to get really comfortable, maybe too comfortable.  I was averaging 40-50 mph through bumper-to-bumper traffic.  Awesome.  At one point, I realized that the elevation wasn’t showing on my GPS unit, so I thought I’d change it.  Just before my finger found the touch screen, some voice from within shouted, “Hey, dumbass, you’re splitting lanes here.  Keep your hands on your goddamn handlebars for Christ sake.  Jackass.”  I listened, focused on the riding, and emerged victorious.  That voice is pretty wise.  Man, traffic back home just won’t be the same.  (Don’t worry Mom, totally safe.)

The lane-splitting was a good distraction from the pre-trip anxiety that is always there.  I’ve become better at dealing with it via a coping mechanism called “ignoring it.”  I know it will go away at some point, and the general flow of travel will kick in.  But this time is a bit heightened with the border crossing is in mind.  Jonathan’s Guatemalan housekeeper didn’t make me feel any better as she did signs of the cross when I told her where I was headed.  I had to walk away before I understood what she was muttering beneath her breath in quick bursts of Spanish…  Fabulous.  But, I’m committed – got to squash the weakness of fear by embracing the adventure.  I mean, I just read on advrider.com about a 60-year old retired guy doing this trip solo over a month.  And there are many, many others who do this all the time.  It’s just hard to shake those nasty State Department warnings – even if you know they’re bullshit.  Bastards.  (There will be more on the US negative influence on Mexico later.  Maybe even a whole post.  It’s infuriating.)

The rest of the ride through the congestion and concrete of LA and San Diego was uneventful, albeit disgusting, until I get to the border.  And then it was even less eventful.  I drove in.  That’s it.  Sorta like driving into Ohio from Indiana.   I didn’t see any decapitations.  No gunfights.  No kidnappings.  No robberies.  Nada.  Just a lot of people going about their lives with grace and quiet strength.  Huh.

Crossing a border totally exposed (like on a motorcycle or walking) is such a wonderful experience, and it just doesn’t compare to being dumped off by a flying steel bus.  Immediately, you’re hit with the smells, the sounds, the sights, and yes, the people.  Everywhere, people.  It hits every sense, and it’s wonderful.   But, the people everywhere, they seem to be glaring at you.  You can feel their dark stare following you.    So you use the one weapon you have and slowly lift your arm and make a tentative two-fingered, peace wave.  Lo and behold, these beautiful, white smiles erupt before their energetic arms can get up into their wave.  The culture crevasse has been crossed.  By a wave.   And a smile under a helmet. They weren’t scowling – they were simply watching, and wondering – what the hell is that monstrosity?  Their stares were curiosity, nothing less – wouldn’t you be curious to see this foreign sight?  It warms the depths of the soul to see such open, quick friendliness replace the stoic stares.  The power of a smile (even blocked by a helmet and glasses) and a wave. My most powerful peacekeeping weapon.  Permitted at border crossings worldwide.

But, there’s business at hand – I just rode through an international border, and before I know it, I’m three miles through town, and I have seen nothing that tells me to “check in.”  So, I backtracked.  Luckily everyone is so incredibly friendly.  Within five minutes, I have the entire town drawing maps and telling me where to go, even if they are all in different directions told at mach 3.  I have some military dudes watching my bike so I can go in and get my papers.  Again, these guys look like they’d shoot a guy for snoring too loud, but after approaching them with an “hola,” we’re fast, smiling friends.  And the immigration guy treats me like his grandson.  I can’t help but think that they’re so nice to me because they feel sorry for the huge, clueless gringo.   But, while I’m sure that’s part of it, I think the reality is that they’re just really kind, loving, family people.  I finally paid for and received my visa, and he tells me that I can get the permit for the bike in La Paz.  No clue what that means.  Like all things in Mexico, it’s all just a bit vague, and I’m not convinced I’m traveling with the right docs…  But, it’s time to move on, and my immigration friend is all smiles and kindness.

Tecate is actually a very pleasant border town, and I was struck by the fact that for so many Americans (of the Gringo persuasion) these border towns carry the image of lawless murder brothels.  But, driving through town, I was struck by something very different – it’s a town full of people living their lives in a very challenging environment.  And they’re doing quite well at it.  Life adapts, grows, and continues.  Granted, there is awful shit that happens in these towns, but the overwhelming reality is that they are full of people trying to live their lives.

Leaving town, the road opened up quickly into curves and hills and roadside smiles and smells and tastes of Mexico.  It seems that something must always be on fire.  Passing a random tree on fire is just not that abnormal.  Smoke and cooking meat and the natural smells of life are always around.  Of course, this is how how most of the world lives, but it’s always startling for us Americans when we part from our manicured, shrink-wrapped lives.

And then I entered the Ruta de Vino (Road of Wine folks).  Look out Napa, Mexico is starting something special, or continuing it as I have no clue as to the timing, but there are graperies (my blog, my word) as far as the eye can see.  I gotta get back to spend some time here.  The wineries along the route were nothing if not beautiful.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop on this trip.  Must go back.

And then, cresting over a large hill, I see the ocean for the first time.  Like it was placed there for my benefit as I glide through the last hills of wine country.  Ensenada appears to be a very cool city, and I’d love to spend some more time here, but, alas, my penance for a late start today is to only slice through like I was never there, find a hotel and sleep.  Another time.  I don’t feel regret though.  If we all waited until we actually had enough time to experience every place we wanted to go, we’d never go at all.  So, we must go with the time we have and experience all we can.  And dream of returning to take a few more bites off the bone.  For now, stick it in the soul’s freezer to hold for another day.

The view from my room.

The day ends at a hotel at the end of the road.  A bit more touristic than I’d like, but tonight, it’s perfect.  I’m ensconced in a robe of adventure and the unknown, and it fits perfectly.  Like Bruce Cockburn said, “If this were the last night of the world, what would I do?  What would I do different Unless it was champagne with you?”  Short of being with family and friends, this is what I’d like to be doing.    Tomorrow must start early if I’m to make it to Bahia de los Angeles via San Felipe over mountains, “dirt,” wind, cold, and rain.  I’m expecting mucho dirt tomorrow, but it looks like it could be mud…

Try and not smile.

Since there weren’t many photos today, here’s a gratuitous shot of Cooper Eric.  Just because his smile is as disarming as any I’ve seen.  He’s already a border-crossing world traveling vagabond…

My route so far (this is not exact – I actually took 94 southeast from San Diego and crossed over at Tecate, but for some reason Google Maps doesn’t think you can cross there.  Well, trust me Google, you can.)