Santa Rosalia, MX

Wow. What an interesting set of rides these past couple of days.

First, coming down from Guerrero Negro, Highway 1 takes you through some serious desert.
Though this isn't my first trip through a desert, I'm really enjoying the scenery this time.
I chalk that up to being on the bike.

For those readers who don't ride, the feeling of being out on an open road, with nothing by nature from the face shield to the horizon in every direction ...

The cacti and other shrubbery tend to be short, and of only a small variety of species. After a while I realize I'm moving through a forest of sorts -- except that nothing grows taller than about 4 feet high.

Then I come up to a most amazing scene -- a real-live, honest-to-goodness oasis.
Right there in the middle of the desert, a river has broken through from its underground channel and brings a small 1 x 2 km stretch of desert to life.

Looking down from the highway the flora suddenly jumps from scrub bushes to 20 ft palm trees. Now this is the kind of forest I'm used to!

What an optimist..

And as suddenly as it appears, it's gone.





And we're back to the sameness of the open sandy stretches with the stubby cacti.

I turn back on Michael Moore's "Stupid White Men" audio book (thanks for the suggestion Skira) on my Garmin Nuvo 660 GPS ( a post of this wonderful piece of kit is coming soon)

My next pleasant surprise comes when I see an open patch of desert serving as a playing field of America's pastime.

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I don't quite have the words to describe my shock at seeing, not just a baseball diamond out here in the desert, but an organized game being played on it, to boot.

I rode almost a full kilometre before making a U-turn as I realized I just had to take a picture of this for it to be believable.

What you have to understand is that this field is 45 kms from the nearest real town, Santa Rosalia -- and that's where the majority of the players drove in from.

My Spanish was too poor to ask, but really? Here? Was there not flat ground for 45 kms... ?

What an arm!

In any case, my new friend Henry aka Quito, and I swapped biker stories as he told me about his old Suzuki 750, bought before the wife and kids...

He suggested the "Hotel Sol y Mar" in Santa Rosalia. I'm happy to report I now know enough Spanish to instantly translate that complicated name :)

The fellas

Santa Rosalia is a lovely town. So quaint and picturesque. As I rolled up to the town, they were closing off streets in the downtown for a big political rally. One of the politicians running for Governor of this State would be speaking at night, and all the party faithful were there.


They pulled out all the stops of this one. There were balloons, face-painting for the kids, popcorn and candy snacks vendors, lots of free (soft) drinks, and plenty of music.

Henry, aka 'Quito'

Santa Rosalia

The town itself has a very old feel to it. There's not a single glass-and-steel building to be seen anywhere. It felt so very familiar to me.
It wasn't until walking 'home' to the motel after dinner that the familiarity struck me.

Santa Rosalia between the hills and the sea

As the rally ended, people started slowly walking home, or to their cars. Some old men were still liming at the back, drinking as they had been for the entire rally. Others who had been listening to the speeches we stopping at the few remaining vendors to grab one last taco for the night.

It felt exactly like downtown Port-of-Spain after a night in the Calypso Tents during Carnival.

Substitute the corn soup man for the tacareria and it's the same thing ...

Phil and his '87 KLR

I ran into a fellow KLR rider down here, Phil Reasons, on his sweetly custom-painted 1987 KLR650.

He's headed north back home to Tucson, AZ after spending a few weeks on the road.
We stood in a parking lot chatting about bikes, schedules, vacations-while-working, philosophy -- everything, for over an hour. It was wonderful.

Phil's working on some world-changing projects in the area of clean water technologies, and I wish him all the best.