Well, you’ll be happy to know that I was right. It was beyond my skill level. We spent the day getting some much needed sun on the beach and then headed up to Mauro’s for the festivities only to find that he was quite serious when he said you needed either a four by four or a dirt bike to make it up the winding boulder strewn dirt road up to his place. I made it around the first bend alright but upon rounding the second I wasn’t going fast enough and ran aground on some boulders and promptly fell over. Luckily I wasn’t going too fast and just brushed a bit of the cylinder head. Josh was ahead of me and just happened to look back the moment I fell and captured it on the helmet cam.
Mauro and Francesco were just then coming down in a pickup and stopped to watch the hilarity as I tried to right the bike only to have it fall again. Good times. Mauro, a dirt bike champion, offered to ride it up the rest of the way. He also offered me a ride on the bike. At first I was hesitant but since he was an expert I hopped on. He zoomed up this treacherous road hugging the outside at twenty-five mph zigging between boulders and we’d almost reached the top when he lost traction in the sand and then we both went down. This time at speed. Some of the bike’s weight landed on my knee and tore it up a bit but not that badly. I let him take it the rest of the way alone.
We were a bit norteamericano to show up on time since no one had arrived yet and the trickle wouldn’t really start for another hour or two. We made ourselves at home and checked out his self-built adobe style hostel. We met a bunch of gringos and locals including the proprietor of our little cabana, Alfredo Diaz and his wife Rosalinda as well as a smorgasbord of characters including the reigning champ in the form of Mr. Smith.
Mr. Smith looks entirely Mexican (except for his blue eyes) but takes his name from the days when Bahia de Los Angeles was an English controlled gold mining town. He’s what you would call the town drunk as everyone seems to nod and agree with him no matter what. He was trying to convince Mauro to move the hostel to a better location which was 25 meters to the west so that it could take advantage of the east west view of the entire bay. Mauro didn’t seem to be going for it. But Josh did go for the tequila that Mr. Smith was offering out of his pocket.
Mr. Smith and Joshua debate moving the hostel to this promontory.
After the delicious steak tacos with great salsas and guacamole puree everyone shot the shit as people wandered around the hostel and surrounding mountains. Mauro’s kids played with the locals which was reminiscent of our youth as languages and customs are struggled with joyful insouciance.
Talk turned to the Baja 1000* which will be coming through here next year and Mauro and his friend Michael are putting together a six man team including Martin to compete next year. Josh pipes in with his wish to go dirt riding as well and from there we’re going the next day to a ranch 25 miles away by dirt road that Mauro is looking at buying. Since we’ve already seen my skills off-road (which rightly so Mauro blamed on street tires so I can as well) Francesco and I will follow in a truck with supplies for the day. And I suspect some of those supplies will include beer if they are not the sole supplies.
*If you don’t know what the Baja 1000 is I suggest you look it up. It’s a thousand mile race through the mountains and dunes of Baja by motorcycle and supped up dune buggies that is one of the most intense races in the world alongside the Paris to Dakar Rally.
The beautiful sunset from Mauro's hostel hill as the islands are lit up by the remaining rays.
