Pedro, also known as YBP, gets up later than both Mike and myself, and so was left getting ready while we headed out to get some of the day’s 110+km done while there were still clouds in the sky. We made it over a few rolling climbs to El Cien, named because it’s 100km from La Paz, and after grabbing my first empanadas for breakfast, headed straight on. We got to a restaurant at the 75km marker and managed to eat there, before YBP turned up. One of the great things about riding in Baja is that there’s only one road so it’s pretty difficult to get lost. It allows for everyone to ride at their own pace, and even for YBP to sleep in, as long as there is that communication beforehand. As we parted, we agreed that we’d meet at the next restaurant, 42 km further along the road.
I rode with Mike for a little bit after our late breakfast, but left him at the top of the longest hill, as it was starting to warm up. There were no real climbs, just some flattish road interspersed with rolling hills because of the large number by arroyos (dried out rivers) that we crossed. They were split out well at first, but in the few kilometres before the next stop point, they came thick and fast and were great fun to ride. I had a huge grin on my face, and it was even more enjoyable than riding the Seven Devil Hills back in California. There’s just something so glorious about sprinting up a steep hill and your lungs feeling like they might explode, such a rush compared to the general feel you get going at touring speed.
I saw an abandoned restaurant just before the one we had arranged to meet at, and pulled up next to it. As I wasn’t planning on buying anything, I wasn’t comfortable with sitting inside the place for an hour or more waiting for YBP and Miguel. It was a good call as it wasn’t until almost 90 minutes later that I spotted YBP while I was getting rare use out of my walkstool. We went to the real restaurant together to wait for Miguel and for YBP to continue what seems to be his plan of eating in every rancho we go past. He mentioned that Miguel had mentioned that he might thumb into La Paz, but I’d not seen him come past so I figured he hadn’t been successful.
By the time YBP finished his meal, we called Mike and found that he was sat in La Paz with a cold beer or two in hand. We got on the bikes and just round the corner found the glorious downhill that took us back to sea level and the road to coast into La Paz. Having been in small towns for the previous few weeks, it felt strange to be in what felt like such a sprawling city. Of course it has nothing on places like Phoenix or LA, but definitely seemed like it did compared to the rest of Baja.
We arrived at the Hotel Yeneka where we found Mike had managed to have time for a beer or two more, but being the gentleman that he is, had beers in hand for us as soon as he heard my bell. We’d made it to the end of Baja, well as far as we wanted to go anyway, since the city of Cabo at the real tip holds no appeal to me. It was time to rest a bit, before taking the ferry to the mainland.
In Los Pocitas