Wardrobe Malfunctions in Mexico

 

People who follow my travels might recognize this motorcycle riding jacket. It was mentioned in a post two years ago when it fell off my motorcycle in Bulgaria. Well it is up to its old tricks and self ejected on a dirt road in Baja Mexico. This time it was returned to me by a group of pilgrims who were walking a camino across the Baja Peninsula, however it did manage to spend a little too much time on the muffler resulting in a melted zipper and a serious assault on its rainproofing.

Baja is paradise for adventure motorcycle riding with plenty of dirt roads, thick sand and incredible beaches to camp on. Most of Baja is quite, without the large resorts that are such a feature of other parts of the Mexican coastline.

                                                            Saguaro Cactus

I followed dirt roads and some of the tracks for the legendary Baja 1000 annual rally. Criss crossing the peninsular I stopped at some oases that can be found wedged into canyons and places where springwater transforms the desert into a lush garden of date palms and crops.

These oases were usually sites of old Spanish missions. One can only imagine how remote they felt in the 17th and 18th centuries when the hardy souls came to this land to "save" the natives. Various orders of missionaries, Jesuits, Franciscans and Dominicans all tried their hands with varying degrees of success.

The Gulf of California ( Sea of Cortez ) on the eastern side of Baja is magnificent with beaches that can go on for miles with not another person to be seen. 

A campsite at San Ignacio

Some sections of the roads become so dry because of the sparse rainfall that the dirt turns to a fine powder. It is like crossing a muddy stream where you cannot see what the surface is underneath, making for treacherous riding conditions.

The beautiful La Paz Malecón

Just outside the town of La Paz a ferry service is available to cross over to the Mexican mainland. The Baja Ferry service is very well run and takes about 8 hours. Having bought my ticket online I arrived, with what I thought was plenty of time, but what I had not been told was that I needed my own tie-downs for my motorcycle. Not having enough time to go back into town to buy some I started asking truckers and other travelers if I could borrow from them. Finally I met an extremely helpful Mexican 4x4 owner. His Toyota FJ cruiser was kitted out with anything a Baja expedition could throw at it and my KTM 690 was soon stowed safely below decks and on it's way to Topolobampo in Sinaloa province.

 The start of the dirt road towards Copper Canyon

The first 120 miles of my trip eastwards from Topolobampo towards the famous Copper Canyon was on paved roads with many topes (speed bumps) that loosen your tooth fillings and have a way of taking even the most secure luggage and spiriting it away. At my first fuel stop I was dismayed to find that my duffel bag with all my clothes was now laying somewhere on the side of the road. I can only hope that a local kid found this treasure trove with all my best warm weather gear, a penknife and a Kindle book reader.

Once I started getting into the Copper Canyon region the riding got really fun with the roads winding up a mountain to only descend the other side into jaw dropping canyons carved by the El Fuerte River. 

My first stop was the village of Batopilas where I found a little, very comfortable hotel just down the street from the main plaza that was all decked out for Christmas.

It was at the local hardware hardware store where this gentleman and I had an hilarious time picking out new clothes for me and even found a few pairs of underpants in a drawer which might of might not have been in their original wrappings.

And just like that Richard Luck was transformed into the renegade Ricardo Suarte.

In the next village of Urique I discovered a memorial to the long distance runner Caballo Blanco who came here from the US to learn the ways of the renowned runners of the Tarahumara Indians, who are acknowledged to be the most naturally gifted ultra distance runners in the world. Micah True's book Born to Run is a wonderful account of these native people who still cling to their traditional way of life in the deep remote areas of Copper Canyon.

It was a great surprise to come out of the deep canyons up to an altitude of over 8000 ft ( 2500 m) and find pine trees and a landscape that resembled Colorado.

Only at Divisadero and Areponapuchi was it almost possible to grasp the vastness of Copper Canyon which is reputedly four times the size of the Grand Canyon.

This was an area I had wanted to explore for a long time and it certainly did not disappoint.

From here is was a long, butt numbing, ride back to Yuma Arizona to pick up my truck and trailer for the drive back home to Colorado just in time for Christmas

Boulders Beach Simonstown South Africa

On the way to Morocco to pick up my motorcycle I was sidetracked to South Africa. Two fabulous summer weeks in Simonstown with the whole family was just what was needed to thaw out from the North American winter.

The Luck clan

This is a whole lot better than going to school!!

Boschendal Wine Estate

Of course a trip to the Cape would not be complete without a trip to the Stellenbosch region to visit a couple of the beautiful old wine estates. This farm was founded is 1685.

Another family gathering

From Cape Town I rented a car and drove up the Garden route on the east coast of the country with a stop at the Addo Elephant National Park and then onward to spend time with my brother and his family in the town of Ladybrand in the Free State province.

Ramabanta Lodge Lesotho

One of my favourite places to spend the night is at the Ramabanta Lodge is the little country of Lesotho. My brother and I spent a few days doing some rugged mountain driving  and drinking more than our fair share of Maluti beer.

The Amphitheatre

I then spent a few days hiking in the Kwa Zulu / Natal Drakensburg mountains. The massive Amphitheatre in Royal Natal National park is a place I have long wanted to re-visit. I last climbed to the edge of the Tugela Falls that plunges over this incredible mountain over forty years ago. 

The hike entails a final climb up these chain ladders which adds to the fun of the 20km hike

Xtreme Garage with Antonio the magician/ Mechanic

After a 16 hours of flying and another hour or so on a train I arrived in Rabat, Morocco with a precious delivery of a new piston and valves for Moto Naranja. Leaving these parts with Yann and Antonio I collapsed into bed at my Riad ( hotel ) in the old medina in Rabat.

Marrakech

Talking about a precious cargo I was in awe at the bravery of  this motorcyclist I encountered in the main square in Marrakech. I spent two days in this crazy city while the work was being done on my moto. There was still evidence of the huge, 6.9 magnitude earthquake that hit in early September of last year. A number of the mosques had their minarets toppled and many buildings had wooden beams propping up the walls. All in all it was amazing how quickly these industrious people got things up and running again. I think that some smaller villages in the Atlas mountains just south of the city did not fare so well.

The Rock of Gibraltar

With the temporary import permit for my moto fast approaching ( 6 month from original entry date ) I boarded the ferry in Tangier and said goodbye to the African continent.

Oh To Be Towed

On my way back to Rabat, Morocco

With the sun beating down on a 35deg C ( 95 f ) day and the heat off the asphalt coming in waves I casually thought to myself, as I passed a car stopped on the side of the road, what would I do if my motorbike broke down here? I was about to find out - with a little hesitation of the motor then a huge backfire the motor quit and I coasted to a stop - oh S#*T

I pushed Moto Naranja into a poor excuse for shade and weighed my options.

I decided to see what vehicles were passing with the hope of finding a pickup truck or even a donkey cart, anything to get me to a town. Out of the shimmering heat appear a tow truck!! I have heard about mirages appearing to stranded travellers in the desert but this was ridiculous.

Within 10 minutes of breaking down here I was on my way to Rabat with Abdellati. With the miracle of a smartish phone I was dropped off at a mechanics shop that works on Husqvarna off-road race bikes. My bike will now spend the winter with these two very competent French mechanics.

Well things could certainly have been worse because here is where I was riding the day before. This riverbed section of my route was loose sand and gravel for a distance of about ten miles - a lot of fun but one thing is for sure and that is there certainly was no Abdellati in his tow truck coming along here.

I did find a few good roads 

My Morocco adventure started in Tangier, after taking the ferry over from Algeciras in Spain. 

I mapped out a route from Tangier to Chefchaouen on back roads. Morocco has spent
a lot of money on infrastructure since I was last here ( 40 years ago !! ) and even a lot of the small rural roads have been paved. This area is the start of the Rif mountains and the main cash crop is weed, hash, marijuana, dagga, grass, -- my mind wanders as I pass through vast field of this green plant.

Chefchaouen

Chefchaouen is known as the "Blue City" with much of the old town painted this beautiful azure blue - very calming and charming. Evidently there was a large Jewish population in the town that painted their houses this color and slowly the rest of the town adopted this color as their own. 

 

On the way to Fez

Bab Bou Jeloud - Blue Gate

The ornate Blue Gate is the entrance to the old medina in Fez. This is a magnificent city with some incredibly architecture and also the heart of the leather industry that Morocco is renowned for.

STOP or at least Pause

Riding out of Fez I realized that my knowledge of the Arabic language was growing in leaps and bounds after managing to interpret that this was a STOP sign.

Rush hour on the trail

Near Midelt

I had some of my best riding on a track for which I had GPS directions from Midelt to Gourrama

This section threw everything at me from hard gravel to deep sand in the canyon ( earlier photo) I was concerned about having enough gas, especially as there was conflicting information about how far it was to Gourrama. It was also getting late in the afternoon and I was so looking forward to a shower after a very dusty ride.

Embraced by the locals

I stopped in a small village where I was told I could get gas and managed to buy 5 liters from the small store.

I made it to Gourrama just at dusk only to find that there was not a hotel, hostel or a place to stay in the town, which was surprising as it was fair sized. Not wanting to go back out into the desert to camp I started making enquiries at the gas station. The attendant, like all Moroccans was incredibly friendly and even offered for me to sleep on his bed in the petrol station. There was a new building right next door that, although unfinished, looked like apartments or a hotel. Then like magic a gentleman appeared who was the manager for the soon to be hotel and just like that I had a bed for the night, a hot shower and parking for Moto Naranja in the still to be completed lobby. As it worked out this was my last day riding in Morocco.

Duoro River Porto, Portugal

From the desert of Morocco to the beautiful city of Porto in Portugal was quite a sudden change. After having found a great workshop in Rabat and with a diagnosis of no compression which probably spelled new piston and rings I boarded a plane for Porto to meet up with my daughter Erin. Erin was there for a week helping to organize a music event.

A couple of days of good food, good music and great company I boarded a flight back to Colorado, via Frankfurt. After many hours of flying, and just a half hour to go we had to divert to Billings, Montana as the Denver airport was shut down due to a wild summer thunderstorm. Anyway fire trucks and many flashing lights greeted us in Billings as they took on more fuel while sitting on the runway. The ground crew could be seen taking photos of this huge Lufthansa 787 dwarfing their buildings at the tiny Billings airport - I suspect not a sight they see very often.

Now back home in Eldorado Springs my 2023 motorcycle adventure is at an end. Stay tuned in 2024 as my moto needs to be collected before the end of March in Morocco because the temporary import permit is only for 6 months after which Moto Naranja turns into a pumpkin.

Tilting at Windmills

 

Moto Naranja has been pulled out of mothballs, or maybe I should say cobwebs after spending a relaxing year in a shed in Grenoble, France. With a creaky start to my next adventure, due to a good dose of Covid, I felt a little like this old knight on his aging steed. South through France following the Trans European Trail ( TET ) I passed through Andorra into Spain where the windmills are now high tech wind generators. 

Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité

The first night on the road I spent in the little French town of Die, which some may remember was where I got to in 2020 just as the Covid epidemic started closing down the known world. In the shadow of the old church I came across this play being enacted and as far as I could gather it was something about that time in the late 18th century where they were lopping off aristocratic heads at an alarming rate.

Aermacchi Harley Davidson

I found this old beauty in some French town. Aermacchi was an Italian aircraft company that built Harleys under licence.

The Maestrazgo Region of Spain

It was great to get back onto the dirt roads with surprises around every corner and little villages looking like they were made for a movie set.

The sad thing was that many of these magnificent places were almost deserted, although it seemed that a lot of the buildings were well maintained. 

I quick stop for some repairs amongst the olive groves to sort out an electrical problem. Without power to keep all my navigation devices working, wandering around the Spanish countryside became a little tricky.

This was a typical farm track that I found myself riding on in northern Spain -fun riding. All may seem idyllic in this agricultural region, however apart from olives the main product is Parma ham. Now along with delicious ham comes a malodorous bi-product that at times had my eyes watering which was just not so bueno.

Hotel Reina Cristina

Just to prove that I do once in a while get a shower, here is a photo of an amazing old hotel I am spending a couple of nights at in Algeciras, Spain before catching a ferry across the Straits of Gibraltar to Morocco.