Lewis and Clark, et. al - 2 months and 8,000 miles in a FJ40.
- Thread starter tglaser
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tglaser
Observer
We'll start this one with a picture.
I woke up in the mountains and intended to sleep by the Sea of Cortez, by way of the Pacific Ocean. Long day ahead of me. Better get going.
By now I was beginning to learn how things were laid out in Baja - small towns were placed every 20 or so kilometers and a series of white painted speed bumps let you know you were getting close - some of these were small, and then every third or fifth rivaled the size of goat laying in the road - which wasn't impossible either. The towns might have a gas station, probably no ATM, a few tacos houses, lots of onlookers and lots of repair shops. Between the towns were racheros and farms of varying sizes - most over 100 acres - growing potatoes, peanuts and strawberries. The ground was lush but littered, and fortunately yielded more than enough food to feed the locals. I suspect either you or your father or your primo or tu amigo spent some time being bused back and forth between town and the farmlands if you were from here.
But I was on a mission. The night before I had decided to try to reach Bahia de Los Angeles by that evening. That may sound like a small feat, but remember that we're traveling at a little faster than covered-wagon-speed across a never ending desert. South to Lazaro Cardenas and over some hills and through Catavina. Looked a lot like this:
245 kilometers of cactus. Amazing. I'd never seen anything like it. And boulders the size of the cruiser - so many that it reminded me of stars in the night sky - I was baffled at how they created a road through there - it must have taken years and there must have been a really good reason to get through. Or perhaps this is the only way. Think about that.
Finally ended up in L.A. Bay, as some folks call it, found a place to crash and rest my weary bones. It was a long, exhausting drive and my ice had melted and my beer gotten warm. Luckily the first guy I ran into noticed this, said "You look like you need a cold beer" and then we became best friends. He and his lawyer, his lawyer's brother, and a Brazilian amigo were in town from Southern California fishing and relaxing. The day was spent swimming, drinking, eating and telling lies. I hesitate to call the place a hotel, but we did pay to sleep there. The gate was fancy, but that's about it. But it was on the water, their beer was cold and the staff cooked up the best tuna ceviche tostadas I'd ever seen. Later that night, we grabbed our dive masks, underwater lights and drove in. Had to be careful of all the stingrays in the shallow sandy bottom at night, but you should have seen all the life underwater. Pufferfish, rays, eels, jack, ribbonfish, a sea turtle and most of all - the Phosphorescence. It's something I'd never seen before and it's something I'll never forget - millions of glowing particles that trace the movement of your body and make you feel like the Messiah gliding through the water. If you've seen it, you know what I'm talking about. And oh yeah, Chico liked it here, too.
The next morning I awoke to this, the Isla Ángel de la Guarda.
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the matador
New member
this is a sick trip man! cant wait to see more!
tglaser
Observer
Allow me to apologize for the hiatus - not only am I from a generation forced to do very little work on account of having almost anything we could possibly want being handed to us, but my mind has also grown accustomed to this mess - and forcing myself away from the pre-meditated distractions is becoming quite a chore. It didn't used to be like this. When I was a kid - say between the ages of 6 and 10 - my mind was crisp and fresh and eager to tackle things in the way. I liked - actually enjoyed - Math problems -I read book after book, almost as a contest with only myself as a participant in which no one could be the victor, and day-dreamed my way through school, planning my next adventure. Of course, they were pretty small-scale back then -a night or two at the lake with my parents within earshot, or gassing up the 3-wheeler to drive the 7 miles into town - but they were serious to me. I was always a planner, not by conscious decision but through a hereditary gene passed down from my father. I feel like the preparation of this trip was something that I just picked up along the way. A vehicle here, another map of Mexico there. Slowly things came together as if they were planned all along. Now if you were to ask me to check the box next to my religion, you'd get Athiest, so you get some perspective, but there was most definitely a smoothness to the way everything came together once in a while. I wouldn't say it if I didn't see it. Natural. That's what it was. Like Nature had taken hold and intervened in my very small world. Think about all that for a minute.
Sometimes I'll write "we" instead of "me" - I'll mean my dog and me for a very large majority of the time. He was as much of a part of the trip as I, and without a doubt could speak more intelligently about its lasting effect on him than I. But he's not good with computers. So you're left with me.
Now, on with the story.
WE left Bahía de los Ángeles as soon as we could - paid the bar tab, slapped on our sunglasses and braced ourselves for another day of Baja-desert driving. We didn't know what that meant until the day before, but the trip from San Pedro Martir to the Bay of Angels got our attention in the worst way. Lots of cactus? We have "lots of cactus" in Texas - this is enough cactus to choke a thousand donkeys - and then there's still another 60 kilometers to til you get to the beach and refreshments. But, that was another day - we're moving ahead here. Santa Rosalia. Before we got there, I planned to stay there - when we got there, our plans changed. Not much there. Not much for me anyway. Probably a place for cargo(?) ships and travelers to refuel, excellent. On to Mulege. This isn't what's advertised in Real Estate brochures here in the states. I'll leave it at that. Keep moving. Get to a sleepy spot a few kilos south, where only in-the-know gringos could fish and play and generally act like a child a couple decades ago, a place called Loreto. I like this town, most of its charm still remains and the sunrises are out of this world (see below) - but it also sported a recognizable rift in the population. It was almost like the 25-45 age people had all packed up their things and shoved off at some point. Gringos hid the secret too well back in the day and now the tourism has slowed down to a crawl for lack of Americans. This has caused a generation of Loretoans to let out in search of work. See someone in the street, and chances are that he's either using a cane or buying a raspa. If you find yourself there one day, take the time to find your way around town, eat at a few different restaurants, and for god's sake, get yourself on a charter boat and have someone take you out to the islands a half hour offshore. You'll be glad you did.
Luckily for whoever's reading this right now, there are some pictures that go along with all this jabbering.
Bahia de los Angeles looking East
Looking West
Keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel...
Volcan de Tres Virgenes
One of the six or seven Unbelievable beaches half an hour South of Mulege.
And the Sunrise in Loreto.
More to follow.
Sometimes I'll write "we" instead of "me" - I'll mean my dog and me for a very large majority of the time. He was as much of a part of the trip as I, and without a doubt could speak more intelligently about its lasting effect on him than I. But he's not good with computers. So you're left with me.
Now, on with the story.
WE left Bahía de los Ángeles as soon as we could - paid the bar tab, slapped on our sunglasses and braced ourselves for another day of Baja-desert driving. We didn't know what that meant until the day before, but the trip from San Pedro Martir to the Bay of Angels got our attention in the worst way. Lots of cactus? We have "lots of cactus" in Texas - this is enough cactus to choke a thousand donkeys - and then there's still another 60 kilometers to til you get to the beach and refreshments. But, that was another day - we're moving ahead here. Santa Rosalia. Before we got there, I planned to stay there - when we got there, our plans changed. Not much there. Not much for me anyway. Probably a place for cargo(?) ships and travelers to refuel, excellent. On to Mulege. This isn't what's advertised in Real Estate brochures here in the states. I'll leave it at that. Keep moving. Get to a sleepy spot a few kilos south, where only in-the-know gringos could fish and play and generally act like a child a couple decades ago, a place called Loreto. I like this town, most of its charm still remains and the sunrises are out of this world (see below) - but it also sported a recognizable rift in the population. It was almost like the 25-45 age people had all packed up their things and shoved off at some point. Gringos hid the secret too well back in the day and now the tourism has slowed down to a crawl for lack of Americans. This has caused a generation of Loretoans to let out in search of work. See someone in the street, and chances are that he's either using a cane or buying a raspa. If you find yourself there one day, take the time to find your way around town, eat at a few different restaurants, and for god's sake, get yourself on a charter boat and have someone take you out to the islands a half hour offshore. You'll be glad you did.
Luckily for whoever's reading this right now, there are some pictures that go along with all this jabbering.
Bahia de los Angeles looking East
Looking West
Keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel...
Volcan de Tres Virgenes
One of the six or seven Unbelievable beaches half an hour South of Mulege.
And the Sunrise in Loreto.
More to follow.
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tglaser
Observer
Loreto was left as I found it, and I, appropriately, had changed a small amount by the time I left. A late night conversation with my next-door neighbors at the hotel served to broaden my mind and sharpen my convictions. Two older men, Mexican-Americans, who had managed to not miss even a single annual fishing trip to Loreto, talked of their lives, their intertwined families and the lessons they'd learned along the way. Oddly enough, honest senior guidance is somewhat hard to come by these days. As they talked, I listened. The clock was ticking closer and closer to midnight, when I would turn thirty years old, and I was getting wiser by the minute. Their names escape me, but their sincerity and wisdom does not.
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tglaser
Observer
Moving along. My girlfriend got in touch with me with a surprise for the birthday - she was flying into Cabo San Lucas in a couple days - I was supposed to meet her at the airport around 13:30 on Friday - keep that little detail in mind, it'll come in handy later on. OK. I was really looking forward to spending some quality time with her - it had been almost a month since we had seen each other. We talked often, but everyone knows the phone is a poor substitute for flesh and blood. I grabbed my bags, Chico packed his stuff and we headed off - continuing South. Before I left CA, my Dad's friend had mentioned a small fishing community called Los Barriles as a great, out-of-the-way type place I should visit if I had the chance. He was as right as anyone with that advice. I didn't know it until I left, but Los Barriles was going to provide some of the fondest memories of the entire trip. I arrived there about half an hour after dark - the ONLY time I was caught operating a motor vehicle after sunset in Mexico - had no place to stay, most of my homemade granola provisions spent and my humor was completely gone. After a cursory swing through the populated portion of town, I hadn't found a spot to camp, but I did find a taco house called Tio Pablo's that was still open and had cold beer. Sold. Went inside - saw a few tables older gringo fishermen full of tequila - and chose to sit on the other side of the restaurant. The meal was perfect, the michelada was tall and cold and the waiter ended up being an awesome guy. Very friendly and very helpful. He told me about a couple places where I could park the cruiser and not be bothered, gave me his phone number and told me to contact him with any issues - my kind of guy.
Two days later - and my girlfriend was scheduled to arrive sometime around 1 o'clock. In accordance with the "no itinerary" rule, I refused actually know when anything was going to happen - just so that I was close. Chico and I spent the morning at the beach swimming and running and generally acting like fools. We were fired up for a brief visit from our support team and were (literally) tightening screws, etc.
It's about 11:30 at this point. Checked the all my fluids, tinkered with the carburetor a little and one last thing - needed to get a wrench on the copper fittings connecting the oil lines to the engine block - had a small leak and no teflon - one done, the second - just about done and Damnit! I broke it. I broke the fitting and the threaded portion was still inside the block! I was crushed...but my mind went into damage control mode - plug the hole, remove the part for purposes of part-matching at the shop, and grab my zapatos. Chico and I knew the time was of the essence - and hustled down the beach, onto the street and to where I'd seen a tienda de auto partes. The man behind the counter finally understood my gibberish and slowly shook his head "No, no tengo - es parte es muy especial" alluding to the metric threads - he did say that there was a mechanic just down the street - gave me directions - and Chico and I were back on the trail. We'd Run a couple kilometers so far, here were a couple more. Rounded the corner, outran some rabid dogs and - Holy Hell - there in front of a house that doubled as a shop - was a 1975 FJ40 with Colorado plates. I'll be damned. What were the chances? I'd gone three weeks without seeing a single other 40 in Baja - and here - right when I needed someone to understand what I needed - was another one of those very serendipitous moments. I explained to Paco (the mechanic) my "muy grande problemo" and he said "Hey no preoccupado - we can take care of it" - course he didn't speak any english but we were on the same page. Told him my girl was en route and he got the urgency. He hops on his motorbike - set his youngest son on the handlebars and took off - with me hoofing it best I could. Back at the beach - where the cruiser sat 10' from the water - the situation was quickly assessed, Paco was given money for the parts search and I was left to hope and pray. Waited an hour, or half an hour don't know - but low and behold the red dirt bike showed back up - Paco looked solemn and said He was very sorry, but the part didn't exist in that part of the world. Luckily, Paco has a sense of humor and it was a chiste. Damn him. Part back together, me shaggin' @ss to the airport and a friend made for life. My girl and I came back to Barriles the next day - chartered a boat and caught a boatload of dorado - one being 48 lbs. We thought it was only fair to give all but what we could eat for dinner that night to Paco and his family and they were of course very appreciative and grateful. Great people, great end of the story and all was well...
Two days later - and my girlfriend was scheduled to arrive sometime around 1 o'clock. In accordance with the "no itinerary" rule, I refused actually know when anything was going to happen - just so that I was close. Chico and I spent the morning at the beach swimming and running and generally acting like fools. We were fired up for a brief visit from our support team and were (literally) tightening screws, etc.
It's about 11:30 at this point. Checked the all my fluids, tinkered with the carburetor a little and one last thing - needed to get a wrench on the copper fittings connecting the oil lines to the engine block - had a small leak and no teflon - one done, the second - just about done and Damnit! I broke it. I broke the fitting and the threaded portion was still inside the block! I was crushed...but my mind went into damage control mode - plug the hole, remove the part for purposes of part-matching at the shop, and grab my zapatos. Chico and I knew the time was of the essence - and hustled down the beach, onto the street and to where I'd seen a tienda de auto partes. The man behind the counter finally understood my gibberish and slowly shook his head "No, no tengo - es parte es muy especial" alluding to the metric threads - he did say that there was a mechanic just down the street - gave me directions - and Chico and I were back on the trail. We'd Run a couple kilometers so far, here were a couple more. Rounded the corner, outran some rabid dogs and - Holy Hell - there in front of a house that doubled as a shop - was a 1975 FJ40 with Colorado plates. I'll be damned. What were the chances? I'd gone three weeks without seeing a single other 40 in Baja - and here - right when I needed someone to understand what I needed - was another one of those very serendipitous moments. I explained to Paco (the mechanic) my "muy grande problemo" and he said "Hey no preoccupado - we can take care of it" - course he didn't speak any english but we were on the same page. Told him my girl was en route and he got the urgency. He hops on his motorbike - set his youngest son on the handlebars and took off - with me hoofing it best I could. Back at the beach - where the cruiser sat 10' from the water - the situation was quickly assessed, Paco was given money for the parts search and I was left to hope and pray. Waited an hour, or half an hour don't know - but low and behold the red dirt bike showed back up - Paco looked solemn and said He was very sorry, but the part didn't exist in that part of the world. Luckily, Paco has a sense of humor and it was a chiste. Damn him. Part back together, me shaggin' @ss to the airport and a friend made for life. My girl and I came back to Barriles the next day - chartered a boat and caught a boatload of dorado - one being 48 lbs. We thought it was only fair to give all but what we could eat for dinner that night to Paco and his family and they were of course very appreciative and grateful. Great people, great end of the story and all was well...
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I'm back in my home in Austin, Texas and like a lot of folks who take the time to something like I did, am slowly returning to something of a daily routine. The days on the road run together looking back, so I'll do my best to put things in order and tell a few stories and post a few pictures along the way...
First, let me introduce the rig. A 1969 FJ40 mostly original condition - factory F engine, 3 spd transmission, power steering, disk brakes, rear locker, and that's about it. No speedometer, no odometer, no A/C. This metal box on wheels was to serve as my room and board for 8 weeks from Austin to LA to the southern end of Baja, up to British Columbia and back. I ran dual fuel tanks - I figure about 375 mile capacity on full. Roof rack on top for a bag and a jerry can - also to sleep on when the weather's right. Ended up doing about 8,000 miles in 8 weeks and crossed into 3 countries.
Rough sketch of the route attached below:
My Dad decided at the very last minute to ride along with me as far as San Diego - see me off and also help ease his own mind about the trip. It was great to have him along that far and we got to spend to time together that otherwise wouldn't have happened. Here's a shot of us the morning I set sail.
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Lots more to come - may be a day or two - but it'll happen. Stay tuned folks.
For the life of me when I looked at your map i can't figure why you went down the lifeless I5 instead of the exciting full of life and mega scenery highway 101 that goes throughout such beautiful stuff not to mention seafood and history???????? Then you jogged over to Highway 1 but jogged back to I5 w/o seeing the Redwoods. Geeez. Sorry I just feel bad you missed such great stuff! o MY GOD YOU MISSED OUT ON SO MUCH GREAT STUFF! You'll need another trip.
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Umm, WRT california, if he took I5, you'd see a red line pretty much down the middle of California, nearly connecting Sacramento to Bakersfield--I just don't see it. Luckily he did NOT do that. The north part of the state, looks like was traveling through the beautiful Northern Sierra; then, after cutting over to the coast at the mid-part of the state, looks like he took mostly HWY1 with maybe a bit of 101 thrown in. That's what I see, anyways, having traveled north->south California about 75X by car.