Once I figured out that the street signs in Ensenada are totally different from those published on the maps I was able to navigate out of the city and rode Mex 3 east for Valle de Trinidad. In Trinidad I dumped the bike in an attempt to pull around some pumps at a gas station. No sooner had I taken a picture than a drunk man pulled up, got out of his car, and help be upright the bike. He then said something in Spanish that I just knew meant “you got a lot of shit” so I said “tanto mucho” and he just laughed.

A few more miles and I started up the road to Mike’s.

There was a deserted house at one turn that was pretty spooky. The dead mule (or whatever it was) has a sticker on it that says “El Gringo”. I didn’t stick around too long but it turned out to be an ominous sign. A sharp steep curve followed the house and I stopped briefly to decide on a line of attack to climb the hillside. Bad move. I soon lost my footing when I tried to get going again and down she went.

In case you missed it.

Everytime I tried to pick up the bike it just spun around and slid down the hill.
I struggled with this for about two hours and reached the point of total physical exhaustion. I had run out of water and only had a few more hours of daylight. I was getting worried. I figured if I could get some water I might regain some strength and at least be able to cook something. So, I walked down the hillside to the deadhorse house. I looked around hoping to find some running water but had not luck. It was a really weird place. I didn’t stick around too long to do a thorough search. Back up the hill I went. I was just sitting there thinking that this time I really got myself in too deep. This was not a road to ride alone. Then, suddenly, man in a camouflage jacket comes walking up the hillside.

I was freaked out at first, especially since I had just been robbed the day before. My fear mus have shown on my face because the first thing he said was something about “buena gente” and this settled me down. Although it was obvious what needed to be done it required a lot of coordination because the bike was on loose sand and rock, pointing down a steep curve. The two of us got the bike up quickly but neither of us knew what to do next. Eventually, the man place a rock under the rear wheel and I jumped on the bike. I then road the bike down to the deadhorse, turned around and rode straight up to the next level spot.

We then dragged my gear up the hillside to my bike and I gave him some pesos, but what really made him happy was the Leatherman I gave him. It still amazes me that this man help me. I mean where did he come from. The best I could understand was that he lives at another ranch (there were other ranches along the road) and he was scouting the road with his broken binoculars. I never got an answer to why he was doing that but I wasn’t interested in pressing for answers that weren’t forthcoming.



So I bid my saviour ‘adios’ and was back on the road a little worried that if I crash again I may not be so lucky and I was running out of daylight. Along the way I two guys in a 4×4 truch caught up with me who were also going to Mike’s. I told them to come searching for me if I wasn’t there by dark. We later met up and spent the night eating and drinking.

I was elated when I crossed the water into Mike’s place. I really didn’t think I would make it.

I rode my bike into the hotel and after breaking a glass window to one of the rooms, found a spot for the bike and settled in for the night.


More gratuitous dog photos