Several months ago, "Diff-Lock" Fred, "Quadman" Ron and I bought brand-spanking new Yamaha Grizzly 4x4 quads for exploring the Baja peninsula.  Back in November, we rode from our homes on the Eastcape to Loreto, a trip of over 500 miles off-road in 5 days, spending several nights camping on remote beaches (click here for that trip blog). Shortly thereafter, Fred and I tried (unsuccessfully) to make it from the remote rancho of Los Dolores to the village of Timbabiche on the Sea of Cortez coast.

    We travel without a chase vehicle, meaning we must carry all our fuel, water, food and camping gear on the quads, not an easy task.  For the first two trips, we carried extra fuel in specially designed fuel packs which strap onto the quads' racks.  This worked well, except that we couldn't carry enough extra fuel and we needed to remove all our gear in order to get to the gas - we needed a better system! I googled aluminum fuel tanks, and found a manufacturer of cylindrical tanks as commonly found on dune buggies.  The 10-gallon size was perfect for our needs.  My local welding shop fabricated mounting brackets, and that problem was soon solved.  Fred brought down some specialty gear bags designed to attach to the racks, so now we're not only having fun, but more importantly, we're looking good at the same time.

    We're trailering the quads to the starting point of Puerto San Carlos, on Magdalena Bay on the Pacific side, about a 5-hour drive in Ron's new truck with the shattered rear window.  Our plan is to leave Los Barriles at noon, in order to get to San Carlos before dark.  Loading up is a snap with Fred's aluminum ramps, and we decide to stop at our favorite taco stand for lunch before leaving town.  It's quite evident that the word is out on our little piece of paradise, as we don't recognize a single person at the jam-packed El Viejo Tacos.  Tourists have descended on our town like an angry horde of locusts, and there is no effective pesticide.  The streets are so jammed with cars with rental license plates, we actually have trouble getting to Highway 1 for the run to San Carlos. 

    Despite the late start, we roll into San Carlos just as the sun is making its daily trip into the ocean.  Checking in at Brennan's Motel, we unload the quads before walking across the street to a culinary feast at Restaurant Alcatraz. Over a great meal, we collectively ask why we can't get food like this back at home, with nobody able to provide an answer.  Returning to the motel, we're looking forward to tomorrow's first day of riding.

DAY 1 - January 26th

    The day arrives with cool temperatures and a high overcast - perfect for us. After a repeat performance at Restaurant Alcatraz for breakfast, I find myself fascinated by the tall long-haired hostess there, but as usual I don't do anything about it. It seems gringo prices have found their way even here, as Ron wolfs down his $9 pancakes. Finding a store to stock up the coolers, we're off to the Pemex station to top off the quads before leaving town.  According to my maps, the nearest route to our first stop of the day, Lopez Mateos, is nearly 20 miles back up the pavement.  Asking the Pemex attendant if any of the trails we saw heading north on the way in yesterday would get through, he replies "no", so I decide to be conservative on the 1st day of the ride and lead the boys up the pavement to the known intersection.  (After several days of asking the locals about roads, we'll finally figure out that most people don't know anything about their local roads, and we're better off following our gut instincts) After a few miles my quad starts sputtering as if its not getting enough gas.  It appears the long fuel line run from the new (and as yet untested auxiliary fuel tank) is developing vapor lock.  Switching to the main front fuel tank solves the problem, and we continue to the main dirt road intersection at km 27 for the turn north to Lopez Mateo.  The instant we get on the dirt trail, the quads come to life, and we quickly raise huge clouds of dust behind us as our tires chew up the miles. 

    Even with the weight of all the extra gas we're carrying, the quads are handling the load with ease.  I'm amazed at the abuse they'll take and keep running.  After a couple of guesses at unmarked intersections, I see a town ahead - first stop, Lopez Mateos.  A group of farm pigs on their morning stroll serves as our welcoming committee. We decide to make a quick loop through town to check it out, but a major traffic jam from some road construction cuts short our visit, and we turn north, following the coastal trail to the mangroves that line the shore of northern Bahia Magdalena. The spectacular view beckons us on, and we soon arrive at a large set of ruins of some type of industrial center on the shore.  We speculate about what this place was, but none of us have a clue.  Moving on, we're quickly stopped by a foot-long piece of wire in Fred's tire.  This is one of the things we come prepared for, as a self-vulcanizing plug and a 12-volt air compressor puts us back on the road in less that 5 minutes.

    Our progress is slowed down by investigating all the turnoffs leading to fish camps and great camp spots on the shore, but the view is well worth our time.  We soon spot a lighthouse on the far side of a large inlet.  We want to check it out, but the trail turns inland to get around the watery obstacle, taking us nearly 8 miles east to the village of Valle Santo Domingo before turning west again to return to the coast.  We stop at what appears to be the intersection to the lighthouse, but now it's several miles out of our way, so we continue following the coastal trail north.  We're just amazed by the stark beauty of all the sheltered little coves, and each of us promises to return here to stay for a few days as soon as we can.

    Later in the day we reach the farming community of Poza Grande, where the boys decide we should top off the fuel tanks.  We find 2 different entrepreneurs selling gas from their homes, and soon the tanks are topped off.  I had originally planned on camping somewhere along the beach north of here, but Fred and Ron want to reach Scorpion Bay (San Juanico) instead.  It's now 4:30, and if we're going to get there before dark, we need to put the pedal to the metal.  As a timesaver, we decide to take about 25 miles of paved road, to the turnoff for San Juanico, near La Purisima.  Arriving at the intersection as the sun is dipping low in the sky, the paved road section sure took its toll on our butts - my behind feels like I just received a colonoscopy with a telephone pole.  Flying down the 26-mile stretch of washboard to San Juanico, we arrive at Scorpion Bay just before sunset, and I'm surprised as the bartender calls out "Hey, it's Sr. Divertido!", as we enter the bar.  We're quickly enjoying our first cocktails as the sun disappears into the blue Pacific.

     We arrange to stay in one of the palapa huts.  After a couple of beers and a giant burrito, all we want to do is go to bed, even bypassing a hot shower.  A check of the GPS says we rode 180 miles today.  Needless to say, none of us had any trouble falling asleep tonight.

 DAY 2 - January 27th

    Sunrise brings a heavy marine cloud layer.  Yesterday's extended ride left us slow and stiff this morning, requiring a extra dose of lubricating coffee to get all the joints moving.  Today's ride will be over the mountains to Mulege, on the Sea of Cortez side.  Since we have a relatively short 86-mile route, I've asked Fred and Ron to indulge me in investigating a couple of side roads I discovered during my Jeep trip here 2 years ago.

    But first, we need to investigate the strange whale sculpture on the beach near the fishing fleet.  The who and why of this oddity escapes us completely.  We stop for a couple of photos, then I lead us north to the intersection for Mulege at La Ballena.  Regrouping there, I send Fred & Ron on ahead, as I want to lag behind for some scenery shots - big mistake, as the parched trail has a lingering cloud of dirt after they pass.  I wait for several minutes for the dust to settle before following them into the mountains.

    Passing miles of great scenery, we regroup after about 20 miles, at the intersection of the mysterious road going north over the mountains I discovered on the Jeep trip here two years ago.  Inquiring at a nearby rancho, I'm told the road leads to the next valley over, where it dead-ends at a large rancho.  This mystery solved, we continue on through the picturesque hills to the next side road on my list to investigate.  At the crest of the Sierra San Pedro mountain range, there's a marked intersection for a 27km road leading to the ruined mission of Guadalupe de Guasinapi.  I want to traverse this road only to plot the details in my map book, as I want to return back to this point for the amazing eastern downgrade to Mulege.  This road appears well-traveled, as we pass numerous ranchos, including one with an ingenious solar-powered water well. 

    Reaching the intersection with the Magdalena road right on queue after 27km, I mark the intersection in my GPS and plot the trail in my map book.  After a brief discussion with Fred about the need to backtrack this section to return to the main road to Mulege for the spectacular eastern slope downgrade, he grudgingly agrees and leads us back to one of my favorite roads, the hair-raising drop to the Sea of Cortez.  Some of the sections are so steep, the dirt track has been paved with rock-embedded concrete, in order to provide enough traction to prevent slipping off into the abyss below.  At the bottom of the grade I spot a road sign still graced with one of my Sr. Divertido stickers from two years ago.

    Down on the flats, there's a section of road about five miles long with big sweeping turns, perfect for full-throttle power slide action as we near Mulege.  Crossing the highway, we decide on the centrally-located Hotel de Mulege, with clean rooms and secure parking.  After peeling away layers of Baja dirt with a long, hot shower, we cruise the town on the quads, checking out a couple of local hangouts, before visiting one of Ron's favorite restaurants for dinner.  Surf and turf later, we're entertained by a conga line of drunk gringo retirees, celebrating someone's umpteenth birthday - I love this country!

    Back at the hotel, it takes little prompting for our switches to get turned off.  Today's total, a comparatively short 115 miles.

DAY 3 - January 28th

    Dawn brings a cloudless deep blue sky for the first time this trip.  Our luck is holding up well, as a phone call to Leonero reveals it has been raining there for the last two days. Quadman is not hitting on all cylinders this morning, a residual effect from one too many cocktails last night. However, he is a trooper, and doesn't complain at all, even though it's almost painful to watch him pack his quad.  Returning to the scene of last night's crime for breakfast, a pot of coffee clears out our mental cobwebs. 

    Today's planned ride is iffy at best.  My maps show a route beginning about 15 miles north of here going over the mountains to Laguna San Ignacio on the Pacific side.  However there's a 20-mile stretch which my maps show is abandoned.  There's no way to know if we can get through except by trying.  Topping off with fuel and supplies, I take the lead for the run north on Hwy 1 to the turnoff for San Jose de Magdalena, a farming community in the foothills. At the turn, I wave Fred and Ron ahead, so I can get some more photos.

    Regrouping at the village, we ask directions for the road to San Juan de las Pilas, our path over the mountains to Laguna San Ignacio.  Many years ago the late great Baja seer, Jimmy Smith, told me about this road, with its infamous near-vertical drops.  Jimmy said the route over the top was probably the most technically difficult road in the Baja. Asking if the trail is passable, our hopes are buoyed when we're told we should be able to get through on the quads.

    Moving onward, we meet and adventuresome couple we passed on the road to Mulege yesterday.  They are fascinated by the stories of our trips, and we exchange e-mail addresses.  Soon we reach the ruined mission at Guadalupe.  The mission has been rebuilt, using one of the original walls, and appears to still be in use, as the interior shows signs of recent activity.

    Passing the intersection with the road to Mulege we marked yesterday, I meet up with Fred, who has turned around, saying the road ahead is poor and without tire tracks.  It takes me several minutes to convince him its the right way, and I send him back out in the lead, to take us over the top.  This is amazing country, and a day like today is the payoff for all the time and money I've spent on these trips over the years.  Getting close to the crest, there's several spots that are so steep, we need to use compound low gear and stand on the pegs, leaning forward to keep the front tires on the ground.

    Reaching the top, there are no words to describe the view, so I'll simply display the photos -

    Coming down the far side is an adventure in itself.  I can feel my heart pounding, my butt is puckering up,  and my neck is sweating as compression braking in compound low isn't enough to keep the descent under control, and I can hear the brakes groaning in protest of the vertical drop.  The only vehicle tracks are those of Fred and Ron - I wouldn't want to even take my Jeep on this road.  Bouncing over melon-sized rocks, nothing short of an independently-suspended 4x4 quad should attempt this billy-goat trail.  About halfway down the grade we come across some ranchers on horseback, the only practical means of transportation around here.

    At the valley floor, we start passing a number of ranchos, and the sight of vehicles and tire tracks promises passage ahead to the coast.  Stopping at one such rancho, the family there is amazed to see three crazy gringos on quads pass by, and the mother serves us cakes and coffee.  I ask about the trail ahead, and she explains it's passable but very rocky.  She also give us directions for some cave paintings in the arroyos ahead, displaying several arrowheads she says are littered all over this valley.

    At this point, Fred, Ron & I have a little meeting.  I usually include a map of the trip in the blog, but this time we decide this place is so special, we don't want to make it easy for anyone to retrace our steps.  For the well-prepared or foolhardy, good luck.  However, heed this admonishment - motorcycles might get through, but your support vehicles will not.  Sport quads will break, and anything bigger will get stuck.  If you get hurt up here, you will die! 

    Refreshed from our visit, its time to continue down through the valley floor, with towering peaks on both sides of us.  We start having water crossings, and at one particular crossing, I can't see the exit spot.  I can see quad tracks entering the bog, and since I don't see the shiny reflection of a helmet under the murky depths, I assume Fred and Ron made it through, and press on ahead, eventually spotting the exit trail. 

    Finally leaving the valley to the flats leading to Laguna San Ignacio, the road turns further north that I had hoped, and we eventually intersect the primary road between the Laguna and the town of San Ignacio, at about the halfway point.  There's a broken ranch pickup, and we stop and help get it back running.  At this point we can either turn south and camp on the beach at windy Laguna San Ignacio, or turn north and hightail it to San Ignacio and sleep in beds - not much of a decision, and we blast up the well-graded road, arriving at San Ignacio just before dark.

    Getting rooms at International Rice & Beans, we celebrate arguably the best day ever on one of our trips with dinner and drinks.  Before turning in, I mark our route in the map book, noticing there are no roads indicated for much of our route today, covering 127 great miles.

DAY 4 - January 29th

    Although the rooms are cozy, at dawn the outside temperature is a chilly 38 degrees. However, as the sun gets higher in the sky, things warm up quickly.  Checking my electronics, this place is a black hole.  My cell phone doesn't work, even though there's a cell tower only two miles away.  My GPS has lost signal, and even my satellite phone can't get reception. 

    We have a leisurely breakfast, to allow the sun time to do its job.  We're on the road about 9, and the air has warmed to an acceptable 62 degrees.  Stopping for gas and supplies, we've got a lot of territory to cover today, as our destination is the mountain village of Comondu, where we plan on camping in the hills above town.  Once we clear town, the track is fast and well-maintained, and we're zipping along at nearly 60mph, passing everything in sight.

    Regrouping at Laguna San Ignacio, I let the guys know we're about to enter a fun section, with lots of dry lakebed stretches.  Don't worry about which track to use, as all the trails converge about 30 miles south at El Datil fish camp. Just stay to the left of any standing water you see. This being said, I send Fred and Ron ahead, so I can continue my photo-taking project.  About 20 minutes later I run into Ron, who has turned around, thinking that Fred has gone the wrong way.  We spend the next half-hour trying to find Fred's tracks, then I decide to take the direct route south to catch up with him at the fish camp.  Arriving at El Datil, there's lots of car traffic, so I can't tell whether Fred is in front of us or not.  Checking with some of the fishermen, everyone says there's been no other quads passing before us, so we wait at the entry to the village for about 15 minutes.  We surmise that Fred is waiting for us somewhere on the beach, so Ron decides to go look for him.  We agree for him to return here within 1 hour, whether or not he finds Fred.  I settle in for the wait, and it's no more than 5 minutes later when a fisherman passes by and says a quad packed like mine passed by here 30 minutes ago. Just Great! now I have to wait an hour before we can go try to chase Fred down.

    Exactly one hour later here comes Ron, and I explain that Fred is ahead of us and let's get moving.  A few miles ahead I spot Fred's tracks and begin to feel a bit better as I know we'll catch up with him sooner or later.  You might think all of this could have been avoided had we just been carrying walkie-talkies for communications if we got separated.  The fact is both Fred and I are carrying UHF handheld radios, but we just never got around to establishing a protocol for their use.  We won't make that mistake again.  Soon we turn inland, and arriving at the intersection with the La Ballena road we were on two days ago (it seems like a lifetime), I spot another of my stickers from several years ago.

    Moving along, a black pickup truck flags us down a few miles south of Scorpion Bay.  He met Fred while getting gas in La Purisima, and Fred asked him to stop us if he saw us to let us know Fred has gone ahead to Comondu and would meet us there.  Now that we're all on the same page, we enjoy the scenery as we head up into the mountains, once again. 

    Pulling into the hills above Comondu just before dark, as I stop to survey the valley below I hear a whistle, and turn around to see Fred waving from a nearby clearing.  A few minutes later Ron pulls up, and we discuss what happened while getting camp set up.  For the first time this trip, we'll be tenting it.  The day has taken it's toll on Ron, who's snoring by 6:30.  Fred and I sit quietly around the campfire, basking in the quiet, after 177 miles today.  We're all passed out early.

DAY 5 - January 30th

    Having all visited dreamland early last night, we're up a bit earlier than usual, and are packed and on the road by 8.  My lips got so sun burnt from waiting at the fish camp yesterday that they're actually bleeding.  I make a mental note to pack some sunblock lip balm in the first aid kit for the next trip.  We decide to cruise the village of Comondu first, and stop at the old mission there.  The building still standing is actually an ancillary structure, probably a bunkhouse.  The actual mission was dynamited about a hundred years ago to use the block for building a school (great sense of historical preservation). What's left of the original mission stands next door.

    Continuing on, we pass through the neighboring village of San Miguel de Comondu, with another mission (this one not dynamited).  We are now entering dangerous territory.  When I came through here in the Jeep two years ago (click here for that story), I was looking for the road to Francisco Villa, and the local doctor directed me to a trail which ended in a swamp.  It took me an hour to get out of there.  As we are about to try it again, a local farmer speaking perfect English tells us the swamp road is the old trail, which has been blocked off, and the new entrance to the graded road to Francisco Villa is a few hundred yards away.  Now I start feeling like a fool, having wasted all that time the last trip here.  As we turn around, Fred is not a happy camper, as he really wanted to go through the swamp.  Up until now I hadn't really understood Fred's primal need to go where mere mortals fear to tread (Fred - I promise to do better next time!).  Regrouping at Pancho Villa, where we cross the paved road, we continue on to Poza Grande, for breakfast at what some people might call a restaurant.  We ask for machaca and eggs, and in typical Mexico fashion, the lady has to go to the nearby store to buy the stuff to make our breakfast.  Our meal takes forever, but just as well, as the sun has done a good job of burning off the marine layer by the time we're done.  I think our hostess has taken a shine to Ron, as she sits down next to him and puts spoon after spoon of sugar in his coffee (Ron doesn't take sugar in his coffee - he's just being polite).

    With our bellies full of fish machaca and beans, we are looking for another route south, rather than backtrack the coastal trail we came up on.  A check with some of the locals shows we need to get to Santo Domingo before there's a different track we can use.  Since we've got a long run today, we decide to shoot down to Santo Domingo on the pavement.  Once there, we're told we need to go another 8km on the pavement.  Eying a side road leading in the right direction, I decide to take a chance, and sure enough, we're soon barreling south on long stretches of dead straight road.  After seemingly endless miles of this straight track, we intersect the road leading to Lopez Mateos, where nearly every utility pole bears an osprey nest.

    Pushing on, for the last section we want to find a trail that comes out closer to San Carlos than the trail we used on Day 1.  Heading southwest through rolling farmland, I spot a road leading in the right direction about five miles closer in.  I make the turn, as the well-used trail is beckoning me, but a voice inside tells me I should have gone further towards shore before turning south.  Eventually we reach the highway, but still about 15 miles outside San Carlos - next time I'll listen to the inner voice.  By now all we want is to get to the hotel, so it's down the highway into San Carlos, and the clean sheets and hot shower calling out to me from Hotel Brennan.  Checking in at about 3pm, we agree to meet at 6 for dinner at Restaurant Alcatraz. A quick check on the GPS shows we went 125 miles today.

    Looking forward to seeing the long-haired hostess again, I'm crushed when we get to the restaurant for dinner and find she's not there.  Drowning my sorrows with countless coffee & Baileys, I don't think the caffeine rush will end for a week.  Another nice dinner later, and it's time to put this trip to bed.

Epilogue - January 31st

    A typical San Carlos January morning greets us, with overcast skies and a strong onshore breeze telling us it's time to go home.  Loading up the quads and stopping for gas, we decide to get breakfast at our favorite spot in Ciudad Constitucion, bypassing the $9 pancakes here.

    Discussing the trip on the drive home, we're all amazed at the way the quads performed. One flat tire and no mechanical problems.  Kudos to Yamaha for putting out a great product.

    After an uneventful trip down Highway 1, we reach Los Barriles about 2:30 in the afternoon.  The trip is over, but the memories will last forever.

    Roy - Sr. Divertido - Magellan - Baldwin

    "Go Everywhere, Do Everything!"

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