We woke up the next day reluctant to leave our new friends, but eventually managed to pry ourselves away, pack our luggage and ride off after hugs and promises to meet again in Puerto Peñasco at the end of the week.

Because we slacked off so long, Alan and I ended up riding to Hermosillo in the hottest part of the day. This wasn’t a huge problem until we hit the city traffic and slowed down. Dirt bikes really hate idling in 100+ degrees and before long my yellow “engine hot” light came on and then the “pull over now dammit” red light. We stopped into a gas station to give the bikes a rest.

Alan goes back to messing with his chain, which is still destroying the tire. I check the oil in my bike and it’s not even registering on the dipstick. My DRZ is not usually an oil burner, but he’s not liking this heat. I pour in some of the spare oil I keep on hand and we both have a soda from the machine and rest a while. No one seemed to mind us sitting around the gas station.
I have an address for our host, but only a vague idea of where that and so we set out again with me leading and flipping up my helmet to ask directions from strangers at traffic lights. Before long the yellow warning lights are back on and we decide to hire a cab to lead us the rest of the way. We are exhausted and just want to get there.
Just as we are pulling up to the address, my red overheating light comes back on and Alan’s radiator boils over.

We park the bikes in the garage and Mijail takes us out walking to explore the city.

We had fun with the giant globe, pointing out all the places we have been and want to travel to.

Cool old cathedral

The main square where old people hang out.

I played with the little kids in this fountain and Mijail laughed because they called me “Doña” which is a term for older women. The woman at the restaurant in La Manga called me “Guerita” though, which means “little white girl”. I guess age is just relative.

These are the Mountains of the Bells, apparently when the rocks break and fall, they sound like bells ringing.

When we returned from our stroll, I didn’t see the bikes in the garage and started to worry, but Mijail’s mother had rolled them into the back yard area and taken good care of them.

I wish I would have taken pictures of his parents, they were so sweet to us, making us delicious dinner and breakfast the next morning.

We met some friends for the evening and had some drinks and split a five foot long burrito (not an exaggeration) before calling it a night.

The next day he took us out to the museum, in this very cool castle with dungeons and everything.

They had a display on the Seri Indians that I found fascinating. I really wanted to make it to Punta Chueca on this trip to meet some of them, but it didn’t pan out. ( I’m looking at possibly trekking down there with some other lady riders this winter though!)

Then we went over to his friend Adrian’s house to cool off in the pool before driving up to the top of the Bell Mountains to watch the sunset over the city.

Our wonderful host, Mijail.

Here’s another shot for the ladies.

We took a bunch of goofy pictures…

Okay, okay no more pictures of us.

That cross was erected in memory of all the children who died in 2009 when fire broke out in an understaffed day care. There were additional memorials throughout the city and the people are still in despair over what happened.
The sun crept below the horizon and we headed back down to wander the city.

This artist made really cool paintings with spray paint in minutes.

I would have bought one if I wouldn’t have completely mutilated it bringing it home.

We went home, slept, woke up to delicious Mexican breakfast and then headed out towards Santa Ana.

Can you spot the self portrait?

It was so hot that took to completely soaking my shirt in the gas station sink and putting it back on. It seemed to dry out in minutes. We rested, ate ice cream and drank sodas until we felt ready to continue.

We parted ways here, Alan heading back home to finish some Spanish homework (he was ironically skipping class to come to Mexico with me) before coming back down to meet me in Puerto Peñasco for the big couchsurfing meetup. From Santa Ana to Puerto Peñasco would be my longest solo stint in Mexico, but I felt confident it would be okay…

I got a bit of a shock leaving the beach when I discovered sand was jamming the throttle open. Nice to know I can corner that fast in sand if I need to! WHOO-HOO!  It didn’t prevent me from riding, I just had to consciously push the throttle closed instead of letting it snap back itself.  The sand worked its way out by the time we got back to San Carlos. We stopped at a little bar to try some margaritas Roger had recommended. They were indeed very tasty and refreshing!

The sun was going down and we noticed the electrical system on the Boogie was flaking out and he only had one taillight.  Roger joked that if the police tried to pull us over it was every man for himself.  Well, we head out, the boogie leading, me in the middle and Alan behind.  I see blue and red lights flashing in my mirror.  CRAP.  Do I pull over?  Roger said every man for himself…maybe we just keep riding.  So we rode a while and eventually Alan consented and pulled over.  I kept riding.  That was the plan right?!  The boogie pulled off down a side street and I followed.  Roger said this was the best plan because if we had all pulled over, we would have all had to pay a bribe, this way it was just Alan.

We wait.  And wait.  We see the lights start back up and leave so we expect Alan to come along any time, but he doesn’t.  We head back to the scene, but he and his bike are gone.  I am racked with guilt for dragging Alan down here only to have him abducted by the policia, but we determine it is best to head back to the boat and try to find or contact him in the morning.  Cops are pulling people over left and right and we need to get off the road.  Besides, maybe he will be released and find his way home.

As we take one turn after another I doubt he could get back on his own.  Guaymas is a good sized city and easy to get lost in.  But just as we’re pulling into the boatyard I see a big round head light coming our way.  I try not to get too excited, every one head-lighted car (and there are many in Mexico) looked like a bike to me, but it was Alan! 

Apparently when the lights started back up they asked him to follow them to the police station.  Instead they led him to a secluded place to ask for a bribe of 300 pesos (bribes vary widely based on how well off you look, that’s the low end.) He told them he wouldn’t have enough to get home if they took that and offered them 100 instead.  They took it and he found his way back without issue. 

I decided then that Alan was a good choice riding buddy.  I wouldn’t worry about him disappearing so much anymore.  Self-sufficiency is arguably the most important trait a travel partner can have.  You have more freedom when each person is comfortable on their own and you don’t have to worry about their ability to handle situations. 

We did a lot of hanging out and drinking on the boat. You know you’re in good company when you can have an absolute blast sitting around doing nothing.

We bought our beer from this fellow and his homebrew was -fantastic-!

I wish I got a picture of him driving his car with a giant mug of beer in one hand…

He gives free samples.

And has fat dogs.

Drinking some chocolate lager out of a coffee cop under a boat, oh yeah!

The Zeb chilling with some barnacles.

Alan making a fashion statement.

We moved to the deck of the boat and were sufficiently blitzed when some boatyard kids came along determined to sell us fingernail polish.

Roger insists on sampling the products before purchase.

Alan gets what may be the worlds nastiest pedicure.

We call it a night.

That’s what my mother said to me when I mentioned I was planning to travel this summer. Gulp. Uhh yeah about those plans mom…

Somehow I managed to describe the plans for my awesome Mexico motorcycle adventure in such a way that seemed to put her at ease and only made me feel slightly guilty.

I explained that I would be going down past all the “bad parts” of Mexico with my bike on the back of my scuba buddy’s truck in the safety of a convoy of other divers. This ended up half true.

***********

It was the morning of departure and my buddy is running late. We’re supposed to be meeting the convoy in 15 minutes and we still need to load my bike on his truck. Just as I’m considering riding to the convoy meeting spot without him his truck comes screaming around the corner, a teetering tower of camp supplies precariously piled in the back. He’s frantically apologizing as he stuffs the bike hauler onto the hitch.

“You can load the bike right?! I have to repack some of this…and I only have one contact lens in!” He rushes off securing items while simultaneously trying to stuff a contact lens in his other eye.

My friend Skip loaned me the hauler and gave me a nice demo just a few days earlier, but it’s not even 6am yet and with panic levels at an all time high I don’t think all pistons were firing for me mentally. I manage to talk my roommate out of bed to help me muscle my fully loaded bike over the hitch. I’m going through all the steps in my head and yet when I finish the bike is leaning off the back of the truck at a 45 degree angle.

We’re on the final countdown now, we’re going to miss the convoy.

I keep visualizing my bike falling off the hitch as we fly down the freeway. I can’t take that chance. There’s no time to figure out what’s wrong! I’ll just ride it!

I run back inside and do a quick change superman style into my riding gear, leap on the bike and haul ass to the dive shop. They’re leaving at 6:00am. I arrive to an empty parking lot. It’s 6:01. DAMMIT. They must have left early.

We’ll have to catch them at the Mariposa exit instead. We speed down I-19 as fast as my 400cc’s will take me and suddenly my bike is surging and popping. I reach down and flip the tank to reserve and continue riding. Just as we hit our exit the bike runs out of gas for good and I roll up to the fuel pump running on vapors. But it’s okay. The other divers are here filling up too and I’m just relieved we caught them.

I get a lot of “You’re riding your motorcycle?!” from the other convoy members and some kudos from the more adventurous among them before we take off again.

It’s a long haul to the dive location near San Carlos and even slower in a convoy. We have to make an emergency fuel stop for my bike, full throttle in top gear is burning through gas at an incredible rate. I pat my DRZ, he’s just not built for this.

I’m not sure I’m built to ride nine hours straight in 100 degree heat. In my rush I failed to put on sunscreen and the sun has burned me through my mesh jacket in a barbecue pattern. It seems appropriate.

Finally we reach the turn off for the final stretch. 16 miles of dirt roads to the dive site. I move to the front of the pack and take off. I need to be in the ocean STAT!

I’ve never ridden my bike fully loaded in the dirt like that and the heat and exhaustion weren’t helping. Suddenly I hit a long stretch of deep sand I start screaming at myself to get my weight back and get on the throttle, but my body just won’t obey. I death gripped on the handlebars and slowed down, which promptly sent me into a tank slapper before catapulting me off the bike and sending me rolling across the dirt.

The car behind me stops and a couple guys rush out “Holy crap are you okay?!” I’m much more used to crashing than they are. I assure them I’m fine and they help me lift the bike. My mirror has snapped off, but I find it in the sand and throw it in my duffel. I proceed more cautiously until the last turn when I spot ocean on the horizon. It’s the light at the end of the tunnel. I blast through the last series of twists and washes and up onto the gravel beach until my bike gets bogged down and stalls. I kick down the stand, jump off and run toward the water shedding my gear on the way and finally leap in. The water is so cool and refreshing it feels heavenly. When I pop my head back out of the water a group of divers are staring at me looking confused. Later a guy tells me when he saw me ride up, he thought I was a hallucination.

Eventually the rest of the convoy arrives and I haul myself out of the ocean to set up camp.

It feels good to be back on the beach in Mexico.

A dirty DR-Zebra after a long day.

Mushroom rock at Himalaya Bay.

Some of the dirt road near the bay.

Classy camping Mexico style.

Sunset on day one of my second moto trip to Mexico.