If I had met other riders heading to Cabo Pulmo, I may have gone. Having heard the road is unpaved and the riding can get pretty technical, and not feeling confident in my riding or mechanical skills, I opted not to venture out solo. A windsurfing fanatic I met while camping back in San Felipe told me I should check out Los Barriles. It’s only an hour from San Jose del Cabo. Let’s go!

Buh-bye, tropics.
Buh-bye, tropics.

Doug’s Baja Nortons, an oasis for motorcycle travelers, and El Chorro hot springs were along the way: both things I like! It turns out, visitors should call and let Doug know they’re dropping by. He doesn’t just sit around all day waiting for riders to show up. Lesson learned.

Doug wasn’t around, but this guy was.

After a fun and sandy ride around town, I paid 50 pesos to enter the park, peeled off my layers, and got to splashing around. After about an hour, of relaxation, carloads of families started showing up. Ahh.. yes.. Semana Santa. They were friendly and jovial. A woman who had sat down beside me squealed as fish nibbled her skin. After another dip in cooler water, it was time to gear up and get going to Los Barriles.







Turns out, Los Barriles is where families go to let their hammered teenagers drive quads up and down the main drag. I ate the wors tacos and had the worst service of the entire trip. A gal at the bar did tell me about Playa Norte: a beach campground which might be calm. Got there. It was. I set up my tent, went for a walk, and found this cutie:


Can I keep him?


I heard this was the thing to do here.


Another cheap dinner: tortillas, avocado and lime.
Can’t get enough of those delicious tortillas!

The sun was going down, and my stomach was growling again, so I made my usual Baja snack: avocado and lime juice in a flour tortilla. Not entirely satiating. By some stroke of luck, I was invited to a fabulous dinner at the campground provided by Lizette, a hilarious and generous septuagenarian originally from Switzerland, and the hodge-podge of young travelers she has befriended. She would pour “friendly” cocktails and divert my attention to the low and full moon while I expressed concern about not wanting to be hung over in the morning.  Sadly, my phone takes terrible pictures at night, so.. no evidence.

Another camper told me about “Baja Midnight.”

“If you’re up with the sun, you’re wiped out a couple of hours after sunset. 9pm feels like midnight. If you stay up until 10pm, you feel like you raged!”

We were up until 11pm, sharing life and travel stories, suggesting great stops, and eventually fading to our campsites. A 370 km ride was on the next day’s agenda. I wanted to be off the road before the drunk teenagers were on them again, so at daybreak, I had already packed my panniers and hit the highway.


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