I roll on down the highway towards the little town of El Rosario and come to the first military outpost. I slow down and stop on the obvious spot and a kid comes out of the guard shack with an M16 (I'm assuming M16-correct me if I'm wrong.) A
kid? He looked to be about 14 years old, but as I get older I notice that almost everyone is looking like a kid these days.
He's manning the post by himself, I'm riding by myself, he doesn't speak English, and I don't speak Spanish. He points to my saddle bags and waves his hand motioning for me to open it, so I do so, and he rifles around the inside a bit. The young kid becomes enamored with my jet-boil cook stove and keeps asking questions about it. I did not understand what his fascination with it was, but I would understand at a different military post later in the trip. He kept holding, and playing around with it so finally I just reached out and relieved him of his curiosity and stuck it back into the saddle bag zipping the top closed. We were wasting time so I figured that action would either get things moving along or piss him off which would have happened anyways. So lets get there quickly, no?
Ahhhh.....soon - shower sweet shower! A welcome sight as my head is pounding from the loud exhaust and I anticipate the chain needing adjustment already as I can feel the bike sort of jerky at low speeds. But maybe that's just how these big single cylinder motors are?
Baja hotel or Mediterranean villa?
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This place is pretty famous with the Baja racers as it is the nicest hotel for 500mi. My room is up the stairs on the right, and the "mosquito" (affectionately named by the gf) rest in the little nook under the tree.
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I unload the bags and rear Givi case and bring them in before attending to the maintenance on the bike. I'm hungry and tired, but I must take advantage of what daylight I do have left.
This is the beginning of the process were I'm vigilant about maintaining the bike first thing when I roll into town, and then get a good nights sleep and redo everything correctly the following morning

It's nearly a 400mi. ride planned for tomorrow if I want to make it down south in time, and I want to be as fresh and prepared as possible in the morning
Not bad digs, no? But it has to wait.
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I grab the spark arrestor out of the saddle bags now in my room, and go down to the bike to see if I could fasten the bugger back on somehow. First the chain needs to be adjusted...aye yie yie! The chain is laying flat and limp the entire length of the swingarm before lazily wrapping itself around the sprocket and sagging on the bottom side. I did not expect attrition this bad, this quickly, and had figured that it would hold up until I got down to the bottom of the peninsula where I knew of a few motorcycle and atv outfits that would at least have some parts to get me by. Nothing I can do now but adjust it for what I can and be extra gentle on the gas.
I search through my bag of random extra nuts and bolts that I put together for spares, but nothing is really looking suited for the job. Next I go around the little town and find one tiny store open, and search for something to cannibalize for parts to hold the S.A. (spark arrestor) in the muffler. I don't know what I'm looking for, but I will know when I find it

. No luck. Zip, nada, zero supplies that could be used for anything mechanical, but I did load up on candy bars for tomorrow's ride

. I stole a machine bolt from the battery box (5 bolts left) pounded a hole into the S.A. unit with a rock and screwdriver, and tied everything together. It's funky at best, but I'm desperate for quiet and just want to make it to the next town. (photo is taken the following morning.)
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Now about that chain...
.