Miles to go before I sleep...
and I still can´t type to save my life!
I am starting from where I left off previously which is leaving El Rosario for Santa Rosalia. We departed the Motel Sinahi around 6:30am and stopped for a quick bfast of chorizo and eggs at a truck stop. The weather is still pretty chilly at this point but that will change in a hurry as the road veers east into the high desert. The distance between Pemex stations at this point in the trip is such that we buy gas from selling it from jugs on the back of trucks in along the road. Once in Cataviña and again in the middle of the ruins of some building that looks like it was meant to be a casino or gaudy hotel of some sort. The road is ongoing from horizon to horizon with only heat mirages and suaro cacti. Some of the cacti have turkey vultures or enormous ravens perched on top of them which makes for a desolate and surreal landscape.
We arrive in BCS (Baja California South) and the town of Guerrero Negro at noon and stop for a lunch and gas from an actual Pemex station. At least we think we´re getting gas at the Pemex station...the first one is out of gas, the second has a long line snaking from the pumps around the corner onto a dirt road. In typical American fashion we zoom around back up the road about 5 miles to a station we bypassed on the way in to town as a more convenient option than waiting around in line in the midday heat...of course the lesson again is patience as we realize that that Pemex is also out of gas. So back into town and on to the dirt road to wait our turn (10-15 cars/trucks and about 30-40 min in line) as the station attendants actually portage 5 gal. tubs of gas from a tanker truck to the open valve of the underground holding tank. After our 2 hour pit stop we hit the road again for our destination Santa Rosalia.
After what seems like hours of monotonous straight-line driving the final twisty descent to the seashore and the old coal mining town of Santa Rosalia is welcome suprise. Just before the first curves we pass a Green Angel---these are the Mexican Tourist vehicles the roam the highways looking to help the stranded and lost, like AAA on steriods---and then an ambulance coming up the hill in the other direction. I laughed to myself thinking that if ever there was a good time (and there isn´t) to lose the road this was it. Just one of those random sideways thoughts that creep in after my brian begins to filter through the blur of hundreds of miles of tarmac and heat. The sight of the expanse of ocean is always soothing and it doesn´t disappoint this time as I lean into the curves and take a mental dip into that cool roadside attraction. We ride straight into downtown Santa Rosalia and stop for popsicles and to get our bearings. A marina along the main road and a small but bustling main drag give the town a quaint, very familar and inviting feel for me. It´s almost as if all port towns...Marblehead,MA; Singer Island,FL, anyplace with a marina and a group of people who are either attracted to or make a living from this subculture...make me feel at home. Checked into the Industrial Hotel...spartan but functional as we have secure parking and air conditioning. Langosta for dinner...3 large tails with arroz, frijoles, guacamole y ensalada...
The previously mentioned A/C in the room as well as all of the power cut out at some point just after I fell asleep. The silent, nothing-hum immediately startles me awake. In the dark and encroaching heat I hear a truck pull in to our previously deserted area of the hotel...in the back facing a stone wall and a large hill...and the voices of several men, clanking beer cans, spitting and of course unintelligible conversation (even if I understood Spanish a bit better than I do). Paranoia sets in...the bikes are the first area of concern but that bit of malignancy quickly festers into the reenactment of every travel horror story in written, verbal and cinematic form that I´ve ever heard. The dominant secnario is that the power has been cut to keep us in the dark while these banditos load the bikes onto the back of their truck and then brake down our door to beat Mateo and I senseless (and probably sodomize us) and steall all of our shit!...the hum of the A/C kicking back to life brings sleep and the morning light some much needed clarity and a laugh at my own expense.
6/8/06- Thursday - We are on the road pushing for La Paz and the ferry to the mainland before days end...
I am starting from where I left off previously which is leaving El Rosario for Santa Rosalia. We departed the Motel Sinahi around 6:30am and stopped for a quick bfast of chorizo and eggs at a truck stop. The weather is still pretty chilly at this point but that will change in a hurry as the road veers east into the high desert. The distance between Pemex stations at this point in the trip is such that we buy gas from selling it from jugs on the back of trucks in along the road. Once in Cataviña and again in the middle of the ruins of some building that looks like it was meant to be a casino or gaudy hotel of some sort. The road is ongoing from horizon to horizon with only heat mirages and suaro cacti. Some of the cacti have turkey vultures or enormous ravens perched on top of them which makes for a desolate and surreal landscape.
We arrive in BCS (Baja California South) and the town of Guerrero Negro at noon and stop for a lunch and gas from an actual Pemex station. At least we think we´re getting gas at the Pemex station...the first one is out of gas, the second has a long line snaking from the pumps around the corner onto a dirt road. In typical American fashion we zoom around back up the road about 5 miles to a station we bypassed on the way in to town as a more convenient option than waiting around in line in the midday heat...of course the lesson again is patience as we realize that that Pemex is also out of gas. So back into town and on to the dirt road to wait our turn (10-15 cars/trucks and about 30-40 min in line) as the station attendants actually portage 5 gal. tubs of gas from a tanker truck to the open valve of the underground holding tank. After our 2 hour pit stop we hit the road again for our destination Santa Rosalia.
After what seems like hours of monotonous straight-line driving the final twisty descent to the seashore and the old coal mining town of Santa Rosalia is welcome suprise. Just before the first curves we pass a Green Angel---these are the Mexican Tourist vehicles the roam the highways looking to help the stranded and lost, like AAA on steriods---and then an ambulance coming up the hill in the other direction. I laughed to myself thinking that if ever there was a good time (and there isn´t) to lose the road this was it. Just one of those random sideways thoughts that creep in after my brian begins to filter through the blur of hundreds of miles of tarmac and heat. The sight of the expanse of ocean is always soothing and it doesn´t disappoint this time as I lean into the curves and take a mental dip into that cool roadside attraction. We ride straight into downtown Santa Rosalia and stop for popsicles and to get our bearings. A marina along the main road and a small but bustling main drag give the town a quaint, very familar and inviting feel for me. It´s almost as if all port towns...Marblehead,MA; Singer Island,FL, anyplace with a marina and a group of people who are either attracted to or make a living from this subculture...make me feel at home. Checked into the Industrial Hotel...spartan but functional as we have secure parking and air conditioning. Langosta for dinner...3 large tails with arroz, frijoles, guacamole y ensalada...
The previously mentioned A/C in the room as well as all of the power cut out at some point just after I fell asleep. The silent, nothing-hum immediately startles me awake. In the dark and encroaching heat I hear a truck pull in to our previously deserted area of the hotel...in the back facing a stone wall and a large hill...and the voices of several men, clanking beer cans, spitting and of course unintelligible conversation (even if I understood Spanish a bit better than I do). Paranoia sets in...the bikes are the first area of concern but that bit of malignancy quickly festers into the reenactment of every travel horror story in written, verbal and cinematic form that I´ve ever heard. The dominant secnario is that the power has been cut to keep us in the dark while these banditos load the bikes onto the back of their truck and then brake down our door to beat Mateo and I senseless (and probably sodomize us) and steall all of our shit!...the hum of the A/C kicking back to life brings sleep and the morning light some much needed clarity and a laugh at my own expense.
6/8/06- Thursday - We are on the road pushing for La Paz and the ferry to the mainland before days end...
posted by J. at 9:35 AM
1 Comments:
Glad to hear the locals didn't steal yourbikes and sodomize the both of you...an imagination is a terrible thing to waste!
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