Part II:

    I lay around in heat and bug induced misery, and after what seemed to be forever night, I catch a glimpse of sunrise and snap this picture from my balcony.



    I spend a good portion of the morning walking around the beach, enjoying the solitude and surrounding scenary.  I swim in the ocean.  I swam to the island in the above picture, it took 437 strokes. 

Bahia San Luis Gonzaga.  Kinda like that "Under the Tuscan Sun" movie which I've thankfully never seen.  Except minus a middle aged, issue-filled Diane Lane.

    I start to head north, figuring it's time to get back to LA and life.  I tighten all the screws that are left on my bike, hoping that German engineering will pull me through the rest of the way.  The road north is still unpaved and even worse, covered alternatively with bigger, looser rocks, and patches of sand.  The rocks bounce bout, dinging and nicking my bike all over, the sand, well, makes my bike sink (at times up to the chain), and the only method of retrieval is to push it over, and then pick it back up.  Germans make damn fine engineers.


 
And it just keeps on going... and going.... at least the scenary is nice. 




    The journey is miserably hot as I ride at ~25 mph, with the road never ending.  I dare not to take off any piece of my street riding attire as any debilitating slip up, bike malfunction, and I'm pretty much done.  I headed out at around 8am, and by noon I had encountered no one.  At one point I started to hallucinate.  I heard Mexican music, and saw hoola dancers in the distance.  I thought people must be having some kind of Hawaiian themed party.  I almost went off the edge here:

It snapped me back to reality and the dancers and the music suddenly disappeared.  It was one of the weirdest but yet coolest experiences ever!  I forsee schroom experimentation in my not-so-distant future.

    This goddamn dirt trail just does not end...
 

    I and the bike both long for the pavement.  The constant jarring takes its toll.  The engine starts to drip oil, minisculy, but still noticeably.  I promised my bike that I would pamper it if it would just take me back to civilization.

   Signs of civilization gradually reappears...
  I saw this around the bend and I automatically thought: drug dealer hideout!

I pull into Bahia Cristina, and purchase no less than 17 metric tons of lemonade and drink them on the spot.  I suppose I should carry water with me in the future.  Actually I had 1/4 of a bottle when I left in the morning, but I used it to rinse out chewed toothpaste because cavities are infinitely worse than dehydration....  Talk about priorities... I belong in dental school.

    About 70 miles from when I set out later I rolled into Puertocitos.  The road then onto San Felipe is well, "unmaintained and fixed pavement", so i.e pavement that's patched with huge potholes.  It was kinda fun cause it felt like a video game, riding and dodging left and right.  I reach San Felipe, eat at AM/PM, clean and lube the chain, and set north.

    Both the bike and I decide that paved roads are superior at this point.


    Mexico is a land without transition.  You come across the most splendorous of resorts/mansions, and then a step past and your walking amongst slum housing.... I ride across and out of the frigging desert, the third hottest desert around behind Death Valley and Mohave, and around one bend, 1 measly bend on the road, I find myself in ....

 
Yes I shit you not.  It is rain.  In fact, it's a rain replete with thunder and lightening.  I laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation as I am quickly soaked through and through.  I guess bikes are waterproof but my jacket and pants sure ain't.  Riding with soggy underwear is lovely.

    I went north, stopping only for fuel, just really really wanting to go home.  I cross the border at 8, only to find more traffic on the 5 and 405, and make it back right before midnight.  I promised my bike a good taking care of, my ass a good massage, and pass out....

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