WILDMAN442
New member
Just started following on Instagram.
Looking forward to your travel!
Looking forward to your travel!
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Wolf and Zebra's adventure: San Francisco to Ushuaia
- Thread starter yama-emma
- Start date
We were planning on taking the Stahlratte across the Darien gap, but it's changing its route to do trips from MX to Cuba instead so we had to look for alternatives. These guys also run a sail boat from Panama to Cartagena so we'll probably sail with them: http://hostelwunderbar.com/sailing_trips.php
Dmitriy
test
Ok just FYI, you should read some reviews/blogs on those boats, make sure you get a decent captain and boat (there are some pretty f'd up experiences). Also if you end up on a small boat I would cover the bike with WD-40 as the 2 days in open ocean(if its rough) will rust the bike faster then 20 years outside in the sunset. From all of my reading those smaller boats charge as much as the Stahlratte but the experience is sub-par one way or another. Stahlratte would be the only one I would be comfortable paying for a reservation in advance on, for others its cash on boarding after checking out the captain & boat.
Cool - thanks for the info. I would prefer to go on the Stahlratte too... but they won't be running the route by the time we get there, so if any other options come to your attention that are not going to be sub-par please let us know!
ThumperX
Well-known member
- Joined
- Aug 26, 2007
- Location
- Off Elk Mtn
- Moto(s)
- Different strokes
Big Bore and little bore Thumpers
- BARF perks
- AMA #: 2817058
A simpler and less expensive alternative to coating the bike with WD40 is getting a gallon of dosh soap and a garden sprayer. Dilute the soap about 20% (no more) and coat the entire bike with the soap. Reapply a few coats. It's a foamy mess but rinses off and works wonders for passages where you will encounter Sea Spray. This has worked well for us in the past while shipping equipment on an open deck 
A simpler and less expensive alternative to coating the bike with WD40 is getting a gallon of dosh soap and a garden sprayer. Dilute the soap about 20% (no more) and coat the entire bike with the soap. Reapply a few coats. It's a foamy mess but rinses off and works wonders for passages where you will encounter Sea Spray. This has worked well for us in the past while shipping equipment on an open deck
Ohh! Clever.
Thanks for the tip dear 
Finally on the road!
We finally got every last little thing out of the apartment, and all the things coming with us for the next year or so packed on the bikes. The apartment looked very empty, and the bikes looked very loaded up. The Zebra and Wolfmobile have become the Donkey and Mulemobile. After packing, repacking and rearranging, we have convinced ourselves that it's not actually so bad, once you take the tire-pile out of the equation. We'll use up what's left of our stock tires as we pound the California asphalt down to Mexico and once we hit Baja, we'll change tires... and neither of us can wait to lose the extra load.
We spent the first night camping in Big Sur and thanks to the storm that has been following us from San Francisco, we were lucky enough to have the opportunity to test the waterproofing of our tent. We have decided that we need to buy a new tent. The wind howled all night long and we did not get much sleep. Determined to salvage the Big Sur leg of the trip, the Wolf convinced me to attempt the dirt road option to get back to highway 1. My limited dirt-riding skills were tested very hard by slippery conditions, and I ran out of talent on a few occasions sending the Zebramobile nose first into the mud. The Wolf would come running to my rescue, but the wind was so strong, it often blew the Wolfmobile over while he was helping me. Fun times!
Our soggy campsite >>
The views on 1 were amazing >>
We eventually made it back to highway 1 after almost 5 hours of mucking about in rain and mud. Coffee and sun revived our spirits in Cayucos (thanks for the recommendation Dana) but they were dashed again by a massive downpour on 101 near Pismo Beach, so we decided to find a hotel and hang everything we own hanging out to dry. Most of the stuff that was wet was from the camping fiasco or had been stored in our non-waterproof backpacks. We were very happy to see our rollbags and saddlebags kept their contents nice and dry. Thanks Michnus and All Terrain Gear
The next two nights were spent visiting friends in SoCal as we approach the border and thankfully the rain has let up and we've even seen some sun here and there. Everywhere we go we have been told how it hasn't rained here for over a year, so I guess we just got lucky
. We'll take one more day to plan our Baja route then we'll cross over into Mexico tomorrow 
(a few more pics here)
We finally got every last little thing out of the apartment, and all the things coming with us for the next year or so packed on the bikes. The apartment looked very empty, and the bikes looked very loaded up. The Zebra and Wolfmobile have become the Donkey and Mulemobile. After packing, repacking and rearranging, we have convinced ourselves that it's not actually so bad, once you take the tire-pile out of the equation. We'll use up what's left of our stock tires as we pound the California asphalt down to Mexico and once we hit Baja, we'll change tires... and neither of us can wait to lose the extra load.
We spent the first night camping in Big Sur and thanks to the storm that has been following us from San Francisco, we were lucky enough to have the opportunity to test the waterproofing of our tent. We have decided that we need to buy a new tent. The wind howled all night long and we did not get much sleep. Determined to salvage the Big Sur leg of the trip, the Wolf convinced me to attempt the dirt road option to get back to highway 1. My limited dirt-riding skills were tested very hard by slippery conditions, and I ran out of talent on a few occasions sending the Zebramobile nose first into the mud. The Wolf would come running to my rescue, but the wind was so strong, it often blew the Wolfmobile over while he was helping me. Fun times!
Our soggy campsite >>
The views on 1 were amazing >>
We eventually made it back to highway 1 after almost 5 hours of mucking about in rain and mud. Coffee and sun revived our spirits in Cayucos (thanks for the recommendation Dana) but they were dashed again by a massive downpour on 101 near Pismo Beach, so we decided to find a hotel and hang everything we own hanging out to dry. Most of the stuff that was wet was from the camping fiasco or had been stored in our non-waterproof backpacks. We were very happy to see our rollbags and saddlebags kept their contents nice and dry. Thanks Michnus and All Terrain Gear
The next two nights were spent visiting friends in SoCal as we approach the border and thankfully the rain has let up and we've even seen some sun here and there. Everywhere we go we have been told how it hasn't rained here for over a year, so I guess we just got lucky
. We'll take one more day to plan our Baja route then we'll cross over into Mexico tomorrow (a few more pics here)
Last edited:
ThumperX
Well-known member
- Joined
- Aug 26, 2007
- Location
- Off Elk Mtn
- Moto(s)
- Different strokes
Big Bore and little bore Thumpers
- BARF perks
- AMA #: 2817058
Looking very forwars to following you and the Wolf Emma.
matt1216
New member
Awesome! Can't wait to see more!!!
The days leading to our departure from the US were mostly soggy so we comforted ourselves with some pancakes in Solvang and motorcycle porn at the Solvang motorcycle museum.
Everyone we encountered marvelled at how it was the first rain in those parts in over 18 months – of course. After a fun sunset jaunt on Mulholland Drive, we reached Rancho Santa Margarita where the Heys family brought some much needed warmth and sun to our lives. Ryan serenaded us over lunch after a trip to REI for a critical tent upgrade, while boots and gloves were drying out in the sun. Afterwards we headed to Carlsbad to see our good friends Rowan, Erin and Petunia and I was finally united with my Rev’It riding gear that had been shipped there. It was at this point that we realised our time had been completely monopolised by wrapping up our lives and setting up the bikes, and we’d done very little planning for the days ahead. We imposed ourselves on our hosts for 2 extra days so we could wrestle our GPS software into submission and figure out where to aim once we crossed the border at Tecate.
The border crossing was smooth and easy, but still took a couple of hours, so we found ourselves riding the La Rumorosa mountain pass after dark. Our destination for the night was Cañon Guadalupe and so that meant navigating the dirt road in the dark, which would not have presented any problems it it wasn’t for the sand. The sand that would become the bane of my existence for the next week or so. It was a long few hours, but the night sky was spectacular, and the Wolf was mostly patient, so we eventually found the entrance to the hot springs and picked a spot to test out our fancy new tent for the first time.
The next morning Oscar, who owns the land, set us up with our own private campsite, palapa and hot tub fed by the natural hot spring. Imagine a personal paradise, nestled amongst rocks and palm trees, with a perfectly flat, tent-sized piece of ground right next to a natural rock pool filled with water heated by the heart of the earth. There is nothing like a day of waterfalls followed by an evening of soaking in a hot tub in the moonlight to recover from a long night of riding sand.
After a full recovery, we faced the sand and dirt once again to get to San Felipe.
As we arrived we spotted a herd of dirt bikes at a beachfront restaurant and decided to stop for a beer. It turned out the dirt bikes belonged to a bunch of guys from Reno who were on a weeklong tour of Baja. They showered us with advice, recommendations and even donated a AAA map of Baja to our cause. Special thanks for the juice recommendation guys, Gabriel’s jugos were amazing! Armed with our new-to-us map we boldly aimed at Bahia San Luis Gonzaga were we planned to spend the next night. (We felt the recommendation from The Reno crew to ride all the way from San Felipe to San Ignazio was poquito loco!) Some time after the pavement had ended and turned into dirt, which just happens to be part of the Baja 1000 route, we spotted some sparkles in the distance. To our great surprise the sparkles turned out to be the multitude of cans decorating the surrounds of the renowned Coco’s Corner. We had apparently missed Gonzaga entirely.
Coco is an amazing old character who spends his days manning his little cantina where he sells beer and sodas to passing drivers and riders and regales them with stories. Over the years, he’s lost both his legs, but this has not stopped him from running his operation accessible only by dirt roads. Coco gruffly greeted us, and told us in no uncertain terms that we should not ride any further, but stay in one of his trailers. No charge he assured us, we just needed to buy a couple of beers or cokes and that would be that. He asked us if we’d like meat or potatoes and the next thing we knew the Wolf and I were making tacos in Coco’s kitchen as he barked directions at us. 3 Alaskan guys, immediately dubbed “Chupa Cabras”, “Nalga Seca” and “Espanto Pajaro” by Coco, joined the party and we spent the evening around the fire while the Wolf shared pilot stories with Nalga Seca.
The next day was once again a late start after waiting for Coco to get back with some extra gas for us, since we missed the Pemex in Gonzaga… Doh! I cruised along the road from Coco’s to Chapala and began to feel cocky about my off roading skills. This would not last long. After a quick taco in Bahia de Los Angeles we embarked on what I will now refer to as the death ride to Bahia San Rafael, which is the same road as the Baja 200 race.
It might not have been so bad, but since we had to wait on gas in the morning, we once again found ourselves riding by moonlight. Then the gravel began. And the rock gardens. And, of course, more sand. For many miles, there was a 15cm wide path of packed dirt lined with a foot of gravel on either side threatening to swallow the Zebramobile’s front tire at every opportunity and throw him down to the ground. We battled along for 6 hours to cover the 50 miles. Yup, that is embarrassingly less than 10 miles per hour, and probably some kind of record for that stretch of road. The Wolf could have killed that road in 2 hours flat, but he patiently picked up my bike for me the countless times I crashed and coached me through all the obstacles. We finally arrived and Pancho’s beach and threw up our tent. I was beyond grateful we had bought the tent that was easy to erect.
The next day once again called for a recovery day.
Pancho welcomed us with coffee, and proceeded to tell us he would make us some lunch. In his youth Pancho apparently had a penchant for gambling but when his good fortune ended he found himself cooking on fishing boats for a living. 24 years ago he planted himself down on this small slice of paradise, now known as Pancho’s beach and frequented by about 1000 tourists annually. Lunch preparation turned in to a private cooking lesson on how to make flour tortillas, and the cooking lesson turned into a Spanish lesson. Needless to say, the tortillas were amazing and the fish stew was the best thing we’ve eaten on the trip so far. We capped off the day with a nap in Pancho’s palapa on the beach. It was a good thing the day was so perfectly relaxing, because the road to get to Vizcaíno would once again test my resolve and every ounce of skill I do and do not have. 100 miles of sand, punctuated with treacherous rocky mounting passes and steep cliff drop offs, and 14 hours later, I had only crashed twice (Progress!) but I had cried a few fearful tears, a few despondent tears and a few tears of exhaustion. Morale was very low. On our arrival in Vizcaíno we booked ourselves into a nice hotel, showered, fed ourselves and passed out after agreeing to stick to pavement for a little while. Morale had improved a bit by morning.
We set off for Mulege at around 10am and had a very relaxed ride, albeit on sore backsides; one doesn’t recover from 14 hours in the saddle overnight. A lemonade in San Ignacio and an ice-cream in Santa Rosalia later, we found ourselves in the charming town of Mulege, where we are now finally updating the blog and doing some bike maintenance in the courtyard of Hotel Hacienda, shaded by a giant lemon tree and the most impressive magenta bougainvillaea I have ever seen.
More pictures online here
Everyone we encountered marvelled at how it was the first rain in those parts in over 18 months – of course. After a fun sunset jaunt on Mulholland Drive, we reached Rancho Santa Margarita where the Heys family brought some much needed warmth and sun to our lives. Ryan serenaded us over lunch after a trip to REI for a critical tent upgrade, while boots and gloves were drying out in the sun. Afterwards we headed to Carlsbad to see our good friends Rowan, Erin and Petunia and I was finally united with my Rev’It riding gear that had been shipped there. It was at this point that we realised our time had been completely monopolised by wrapping up our lives and setting up the bikes, and we’d done very little planning for the days ahead. We imposed ourselves on our hosts for 2 extra days so we could wrestle our GPS software into submission and figure out where to aim once we crossed the border at Tecate.
The border crossing was smooth and easy, but still took a couple of hours, so we found ourselves riding the La Rumorosa mountain pass after dark. Our destination for the night was Cañon Guadalupe and so that meant navigating the dirt road in the dark, which would not have presented any problems it it wasn’t for the sand. The sand that would become the bane of my existence for the next week or so. It was a long few hours, but the night sky was spectacular, and the Wolf was mostly patient, so we eventually found the entrance to the hot springs and picked a spot to test out our fancy new tent for the first time.
The next morning Oscar, who owns the land, set us up with our own private campsite, palapa and hot tub fed by the natural hot spring. Imagine a personal paradise, nestled amongst rocks and palm trees, with a perfectly flat, tent-sized piece of ground right next to a natural rock pool filled with water heated by the heart of the earth. There is nothing like a day of waterfalls followed by an evening of soaking in a hot tub in the moonlight to recover from a long night of riding sand.
After a full recovery, we faced the sand and dirt once again to get to San Felipe.
As we arrived we spotted a herd of dirt bikes at a beachfront restaurant and decided to stop for a beer. It turned out the dirt bikes belonged to a bunch of guys from Reno who were on a weeklong tour of Baja. They showered us with advice, recommendations and even donated a AAA map of Baja to our cause. Special thanks for the juice recommendation guys, Gabriel’s jugos were amazing! Armed with our new-to-us map we boldly aimed at Bahia San Luis Gonzaga were we planned to spend the next night. (We felt the recommendation from The Reno crew to ride all the way from San Felipe to San Ignazio was poquito loco!) Some time after the pavement had ended and turned into dirt, which just happens to be part of the Baja 1000 route, we spotted some sparkles in the distance. To our great surprise the sparkles turned out to be the multitude of cans decorating the surrounds of the renowned Coco’s Corner. We had apparently missed Gonzaga entirely.
Coco is an amazing old character who spends his days manning his little cantina where he sells beer and sodas to passing drivers and riders and regales them with stories. Over the years, he’s lost both his legs, but this has not stopped him from running his operation accessible only by dirt roads. Coco gruffly greeted us, and told us in no uncertain terms that we should not ride any further, but stay in one of his trailers. No charge he assured us, we just needed to buy a couple of beers or cokes and that would be that. He asked us if we’d like meat or potatoes and the next thing we knew the Wolf and I were making tacos in Coco’s kitchen as he barked directions at us. 3 Alaskan guys, immediately dubbed “Chupa Cabras”, “Nalga Seca” and “Espanto Pajaro” by Coco, joined the party and we spent the evening around the fire while the Wolf shared pilot stories with Nalga Seca.
The next day was once again a late start after waiting for Coco to get back with some extra gas for us, since we missed the Pemex in Gonzaga… Doh! I cruised along the road from Coco’s to Chapala and began to feel cocky about my off roading skills. This would not last long. After a quick taco in Bahia de Los Angeles we embarked on what I will now refer to as the death ride to Bahia San Rafael, which is the same road as the Baja 200 race.
It might not have been so bad, but since we had to wait on gas in the morning, we once again found ourselves riding by moonlight. Then the gravel began. And the rock gardens. And, of course, more sand. For many miles, there was a 15cm wide path of packed dirt lined with a foot of gravel on either side threatening to swallow the Zebramobile’s front tire at every opportunity and throw him down to the ground. We battled along for 6 hours to cover the 50 miles. Yup, that is embarrassingly less than 10 miles per hour, and probably some kind of record for that stretch of road. The Wolf could have killed that road in 2 hours flat, but he patiently picked up my bike for me the countless times I crashed and coached me through all the obstacles. We finally arrived and Pancho’s beach and threw up our tent. I was beyond grateful we had bought the tent that was easy to erect.
The next day once again called for a recovery day.
Pancho welcomed us with coffee, and proceeded to tell us he would make us some lunch. In his youth Pancho apparently had a penchant for gambling but when his good fortune ended he found himself cooking on fishing boats for a living. 24 years ago he planted himself down on this small slice of paradise, now known as Pancho’s beach and frequented by about 1000 tourists annually. Lunch preparation turned in to a private cooking lesson on how to make flour tortillas, and the cooking lesson turned into a Spanish lesson. Needless to say, the tortillas were amazing and the fish stew was the best thing we’ve eaten on the trip so far. We capped off the day with a nap in Pancho’s palapa on the beach. It was a good thing the day was so perfectly relaxing, because the road to get to Vizcaíno would once again test my resolve and every ounce of skill I do and do not have. 100 miles of sand, punctuated with treacherous rocky mounting passes and steep cliff drop offs, and 14 hours later, I had only crashed twice (Progress!) but I had cried a few fearful tears, a few despondent tears and a few tears of exhaustion. Morale was very low. On our arrival in Vizcaíno we booked ourselves into a nice hotel, showered, fed ourselves and passed out after agreeing to stick to pavement for a little while. Morale had improved a bit by morning.
We set off for Mulege at around 10am and had a very relaxed ride, albeit on sore backsides; one doesn’t recover from 14 hours in the saddle overnight. A lemonade in San Ignacio and an ice-cream in Santa Rosalia later, we found ourselves in the charming town of Mulege, where we are now finally updating the blog and doing some bike maintenance in the courtyard of Hotel Hacienda, shaded by a giant lemon tree and the most impressive magenta bougainvillaea I have ever seen.
More pictures online here
Dmitriy
test
always a nice read!From sand to sea in Baja
A Thai jungle in the middle of the Baja desert
We stayed an extra day in Mulege to enjoy the breathtaking views the oasis town has to offer. The Mission Santa Rosalía de Mulegé was founded in 1702 and is flanked by giant cacti, but a few steps away is a view point with vistas resembling luscious South East Asia rather than the dry arid Baja we had come to expect
The Zebra is introduced to a baby whale
Next it was off to A. Lopez Mateo to do some whale watching. The Grey Whales come to the west coast of Baja every year to calve their little ones and raise them in the protected lagoons until they are strong enough to face the open oceans. While the Wolf and I were at first reluctant to bother mothering whales, the government supervision, eco friendly motors and apparent desire of the calves to interact with our small boat put us at ease, so off we went with a few other couples to see if we could find some ballenas. We were successful and spent an enchanting hour with a mother whale and her playfully curious three month old baby.
A windy ride to the windy town
We faced a long, straight and very gusty ride down to La Ventana, a known kitesurfing mecca on the Sea of Cortez. A dust storm kept our bikes at lean even on the straights of Mex 1. We reached Baja Joe's 5 hours later where kiters were also struggling with the 40kn gusts. It was no wonder we almost blew off the road! A few tequilas later, we had the pleasant surprise to see our Alaskan buddies from Coco's corner pop in. It was a lovely and long night at Playa Central exchanging tales from the trails and promises of future adventures together....maybe in Alaska?
1st World kite foil race
Another good surprise was us catching the final rounds of the first Kite Foil Gold Cup racing. Some familiar faces from San Francisco, John and Jon, were rubbing elbows with some young and wicked fast young French racers. In the end Maxime Nocher won an impressive first place well ahead of John Heineken.
We spent a large part of Monday relaxing on the beach and marvelling at how damn fast those guys are on the foils (although, hilariously, there is no graceful was to dismount the things) The Wolf even managed to squeeze in a kite session of his own before the wind died down for the evening.
Mechanical hickups
Our third and least favorite surprise was to discover that the Zebramobile's FMF exhaust was falling apart. Specifically the rivets holding the exhaust tip to the exhaust body had started to elongate their holes. It should have been an easy fix unfortunately the intermediate flange is made of a rather soft alloy making it hard to fit the parts tightly.
FMF tech support informed us that we were out of luck and suggested we bought their new model, which is allegedly stronger.
Needless to say we won't.
A long ferry ride to Mazatlan
It's on a massive ship from Baja Ferries that we turned the page of this Baja chapter. We left the Zebra and Wolf mobiles huddled between semi-trucks and loaded cars, strapped to the boat railing to do our own huddling with 50 other passengers. Despite the reclining seats, it was a long night punctuated by the screams of toddlers and the special audio effects of American blockbusters dubbed in Español. Cross-eyed and fuzzy, we woke up in Mazatlan not quite ready to tackle mainland Mexico. But we boldly proceeded forward nonetheless.
We tried to insert smaller images here per request. More pictures can be found here
A Thai jungle in the middle of the Baja desert
We stayed an extra day in Mulege to enjoy the breathtaking views the oasis town has to offer. The Mission Santa Rosalía de Mulegé was founded in 1702 and is flanked by giant cacti, but a few steps away is a view point with vistas resembling luscious South East Asia rather than the dry arid Baja we had come to expect
The Zebra is introduced to a baby whale
Next it was off to A. Lopez Mateo to do some whale watching. The Grey Whales come to the west coast of Baja every year to calve their little ones and raise them in the protected lagoons until they are strong enough to face the open oceans. While the Wolf and I were at first reluctant to bother mothering whales, the government supervision, eco friendly motors and apparent desire of the calves to interact with our small boat put us at ease, so off we went with a few other couples to see if we could find some ballenas. We were successful and spent an enchanting hour with a mother whale and her playfully curious three month old baby.
A windy ride to the windy town
We faced a long, straight and very gusty ride down to La Ventana, a known kitesurfing mecca on the Sea of Cortez. A dust storm kept our bikes at lean even on the straights of Mex 1. We reached Baja Joe's 5 hours later where kiters were also struggling with the 40kn gusts. It was no wonder we almost blew off the road! A few tequilas later, we had the pleasant surprise to see our Alaskan buddies from Coco's corner pop in. It was a lovely and long night at Playa Central exchanging tales from the trails and promises of future adventures together....maybe in Alaska?
1st World kite foil race
Another good surprise was us catching the final rounds of the first Kite Foil Gold Cup racing. Some familiar faces from San Francisco, John and Jon, were rubbing elbows with some young and wicked fast young French racers. In the end Maxime Nocher won an impressive first place well ahead of John Heineken.
We spent a large part of Monday relaxing on the beach and marvelling at how damn fast those guys are on the foils (although, hilariously, there is no graceful was to dismount the things) The Wolf even managed to squeeze in a kite session of his own before the wind died down for the evening.
Mechanical hickups
Our third and least favorite surprise was to discover that the Zebramobile's FMF exhaust was falling apart. Specifically the rivets holding the exhaust tip to the exhaust body had started to elongate their holes. It should have been an easy fix unfortunately the intermediate flange is made of a rather soft alloy making it hard to fit the parts tightly.
FMF tech support informed us that we were out of luck and suggested we bought their new model, which is allegedly stronger.
Needless to say we won't.
A long ferry ride to Mazatlan
It's on a massive ship from Baja Ferries that we turned the page of this Baja chapter. We left the Zebra and Wolf mobiles huddled between semi-trucks and loaded cars, strapped to the boat railing to do our own huddling with 50 other passengers. Despite the reclining seats, it was a long night punctuated by the screams of toddlers and the special audio effects of American blockbusters dubbed in Español. Cross-eyed and fuzzy, we woke up in Mazatlan not quite ready to tackle mainland Mexico. But we boldly proceeded forward nonetheless.
We tried to insert smaller images here per request. More pictures can be found here
Leo_jb
City boy
Awesome so far. You missed Gonzaga Bay? This is gonna be great.
A shot of Tequila and a drop of spring water
11 States and counting
Mainland Mexico has been keeping us very busy so we're behind on the blog but we have now managed to set foot in Baja California, Baja California Sur, Sinaloa, Nayarit, Jalisco, Guanajuato, Queretaro, Hidalgo, Mexico, Puebla and Oaxaca. Yesterday we arrived in the town of Oaxaca just in time for the Viernes Santo (or Good Friday) parade. Easter is a big deal around here, but not in the way we are used to. There are no bunnies or eggs but rather countless representations of Jesus in various states of demise or resurrection. Mary is everywhere too, in her signature colours for these parts: purple and white. It's all very serious and rather fascinating. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, we last left you in Mazatlan, so let's pick up from there.
Kayaks and cobblestones
After landing in Mazatlan we made a bee line across Sinaloa state to get to the seaside town of San Blas. The scenery changed dramatically as we approached the coast becoming a lush jungle which was a very welcome change from the hot dry ride through Sinaloa. We treated ourselves to a nice hotel on the beach after the sleepless ferry night. The next day we exchanged our bikes for a pair of kayaks and went to explore the local mangrove forests. The Wolf found himself already missing the Baja sands, so we took advantage of low season and almost no other tourists, to play in the sand dunes and catch the sunset. Our next stop was Tequila and the Wolf, in his constant quest to get us lost, decided we should take a road that was not on the GPS. It did look paved and sort of legit, so I didn't fight him too hard. The road ended up being under construction and blocked off. Of course, instead of turning around, the Wolf spotted a dirt road down the hill, so off we went to see if that would lead us nearer to the town of the famed Agave alcohol. The dirt path eventually turned into a delightful cobblestone road, that I was unable to fully appreciate as I was still nursing lingering fears of finding myself on a road beyond my skill level... again. We made it safely to Tequila, albeit after dark, and found ourselves a dodgy hotel for the night. Lesson we learned: if they show you pictures of the room instead of taking you to see it, that's a bad sign.
Where the Wolf fell in love with cobblestone streets
Jose Cuervo and more cobblestones
Tequila is a town that seems to be completely dominated by Jose Cuervo. There are other brands represented, but most of the center is taken up by a gigantic compound dedicated to the the Cuervo crow and the tequila they make. We took a tour of the factory, ate some of the agave miel and tasted various kinds of the wicked brew at different stages of production. Some of them almost blew our heads off, and some were gently sippable. On our way out of town, the Wolf spotted another cobblestone road. He had formed a deep affinity for cobblestones the previous day, so we once again followed the road. This time it was lined with the oak trees that produce the barrels the and led us a few kilometers up the Tequila volcano before we decided it was going to be a dead end and turned around to get back on track. We couldn't leave the Wolf- and Zebramobile out of all the tequila fun so we took them into a field of agave plants to pose for some photos.
The Wolf & Zebramobile keeping their distance from Blue Aguave
The first traffic jam since California
As we approached Guadalajara on a Thursday afternoon, the dense traffic and busy city grid made it clear that we were dealing with our first real city since Los Angeles. Following our temperamental GPS, we reached the hotel we had found online to discover an interesting trick, historical facades and Spanish courtyards hiding a maze of stairs, hallways and tiny windowless rooms. Trying to follow the Wolf on the hunt for a new place to stay, I found myself blocked on the Cathedral's plaza by a threatening flight of stairs. A perfect excuse to stop, wait and admire the Cathedral while the Wolf jumped curbs and split lanes towards our next hotel. We landed a block from the YMCA and were greeted by a 1972 Ironhead Harley and a BMW GS belonging to two American brothers retired here. With the help of their suggestions we discovered the very posh Providencia district and the hype pubs of Terranova Ave. We enjoyed chill brunches under the Jacarandas of old Colonial homes around Libertad and bounced at Chacal, a cool new club that put many San Francisco acts to shame.
Chacal, our first good tunes in a long, long while
A Spanish cubist dream
Our next stop was Guanajuato, a city whose world renown had not reached our ears. Unable to find a decent dusty path through the plain, The Wolf reluctantly agreed to wear our knobbies down on the "Cuota", the express tollway. We swallowed 300 kms in a few hours to discover a city of imbricated cubes of color precariously hanging from the steep slopes of convergent canyons. To add to our amazement, Guanajuato is served by two layers of streets, one underground originally conceived as a way to channel waters from the surrounding mountains. The other overground neatly weaving stairs and inclines to adapt to the demanding relief. The silver rich earth kept Spain's attention until the 18th century, they left an indelible mark on the city, the brighter aspect of which can be admired in the University, theater and palaces. We spent hours marvelling at the man facets of Guanajuato, from its many plazas shaded by topiary trees to the ever changing colors of its buildings around sunset.
A week of rest
Only 60 kms away lay another gorgeous colonial town, San Miguel de Allende, home to the largest colonies of retired Americans that we have seen so far. We took advantage of the hospitality of a local friend, Linda, and thoroughly enjoyed her company for a full week. My inner artist led us to join an art walk of "La Fabrica la Aurora", a rather impressive Art & Design center, kindly referred to an adult summer camp by our host. Our stay allowed us to finally change our bikes' oil that overheated in Baja and rid the Wolfmobile's fuel filter of unknown debris that had choked his performance since San Francisco. We then turned our attention to route planning, devised new ways to coerce OSM, Garmin and Google maps to collaborate and mapped our way to the Guatemalan border. Itching for more dirt, The Wolf took some time to scout out the local dirt tracks, collecting a variety of cactus thorns in the process. Once he'd gotten all the crazy riding out of his system, he took me to one of the river beds he'd found for some long overdue Zebra training. We practiced balance, clutch control and manoeuvring the bike through rocks. All these drills should make it easier to follow the Wolf when the wilderness calls.
Majestic San Miguel de Allende
The first split
Wilderness was already knocking on the door, as the Wolf found some trails and back roads to the Tolantongo hotsprings, our last stop before Mexico City. To the wolf's despair, the first day's back roads were all paved. He was close to calling a cliff a trail when we saw a 2 km detour on the dirt. Things started out easy enough but the small gravel soon turned into large, loose rocks, that once again had me down on the ground. My frustration gave way to awe once we discovered that our campsite for the night would be the front porch of a unoccupied villa at the mouth of a canyon. The view made our cactus-thorns-on-rubber breakfast the next morning slightly less indigestible and wielding tire irons is a good warm-up for a day of adventure.
This was the occasion to finally put on the new Heidenau tire we'd carried since San Francisco. Then we started riding. My crash from the previous day left me without enough confidence to tackle 60 kms of unknown roads. For the first time I left the Wolf to enjoy the mountain trails while I found my way to Tolantongo on pavement.
He was able to try all the crazy things his Wolfy heart desired, which included a crazy stair climb at the end (I have video to post later) He's totally badass. This gave me time to set up camp next to the azure waters of the Tolantongo river, in a nice isolated spot. This was without counting on "Semana Santa" that drove an uninterrupted flow of tourists to our camp throughout the night. We woke up surrounded by screaming kids and tents secured to the Wolfmobile tires. While it felt very disruptive, this chaos turned out to be excellent preparation for our next stop: Mexico City.
We woke up surrounded. The Wolfmobile was lucky not to get a tent peg in his front tire
More pictures here
11 States and counting
Mainland Mexico has been keeping us very busy so we're behind on the blog but we have now managed to set foot in Baja California, Baja California Sur, Sinaloa, Nayarit, Jalisco, Guanajuato, Queretaro, Hidalgo, Mexico, Puebla and Oaxaca. Yesterday we arrived in the town of Oaxaca just in time for the Viernes Santo (or Good Friday) parade. Easter is a big deal around here, but not in the way we are used to. There are no bunnies or eggs but rather countless representations of Jesus in various states of demise or resurrection. Mary is everywhere too, in her signature colours for these parts: purple and white. It's all very serious and rather fascinating. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, we last left you in Mazatlan, so let's pick up from there.
Kayaks and cobblestones
After landing in Mazatlan we made a bee line across Sinaloa state to get to the seaside town of San Blas. The scenery changed dramatically as we approached the coast becoming a lush jungle which was a very welcome change from the hot dry ride through Sinaloa. We treated ourselves to a nice hotel on the beach after the sleepless ferry night. The next day we exchanged our bikes for a pair of kayaks and went to explore the local mangrove forests. The Wolf found himself already missing the Baja sands, so we took advantage of low season and almost no other tourists, to play in the sand dunes and catch the sunset. Our next stop was Tequila and the Wolf, in his constant quest to get us lost, decided we should take a road that was not on the GPS. It did look paved and sort of legit, so I didn't fight him too hard. The road ended up being under construction and blocked off. Of course, instead of turning around, the Wolf spotted a dirt road down the hill, so off we went to see if that would lead us nearer to the town of the famed Agave alcohol. The dirt path eventually turned into a delightful cobblestone road, that I was unable to fully appreciate as I was still nursing lingering fears of finding myself on a road beyond my skill level... again. We made it safely to Tequila, albeit after dark, and found ourselves a dodgy hotel for the night. Lesson we learned: if they show you pictures of the room instead of taking you to see it, that's a bad sign.
Where the Wolf fell in love with cobblestone streets
Jose Cuervo and more cobblestones
Tequila is a town that seems to be completely dominated by Jose Cuervo. There are other brands represented, but most of the center is taken up by a gigantic compound dedicated to the the Cuervo crow and the tequila they make. We took a tour of the factory, ate some of the agave miel and tasted various kinds of the wicked brew at different stages of production. Some of them almost blew our heads off, and some were gently sippable. On our way out of town, the Wolf spotted another cobblestone road. He had formed a deep affinity for cobblestones the previous day, so we once again followed the road. This time it was lined with the oak trees that produce the barrels the and led us a few kilometers up the Tequila volcano before we decided it was going to be a dead end and turned around to get back on track. We couldn't leave the Wolf- and Zebramobile out of all the tequila fun so we took them into a field of agave plants to pose for some photos.
The Wolf & Zebramobile keeping their distance from Blue Aguave
The first traffic jam since California
As we approached Guadalajara on a Thursday afternoon, the dense traffic and busy city grid made it clear that we were dealing with our first real city since Los Angeles. Following our temperamental GPS, we reached the hotel we had found online to discover an interesting trick, historical facades and Spanish courtyards hiding a maze of stairs, hallways and tiny windowless rooms. Trying to follow the Wolf on the hunt for a new place to stay, I found myself blocked on the Cathedral's plaza by a threatening flight of stairs. A perfect excuse to stop, wait and admire the Cathedral while the Wolf jumped curbs and split lanes towards our next hotel. We landed a block from the YMCA and were greeted by a 1972 Ironhead Harley and a BMW GS belonging to two American brothers retired here. With the help of their suggestions we discovered the very posh Providencia district and the hype pubs of Terranova Ave. We enjoyed chill brunches under the Jacarandas of old Colonial homes around Libertad and bounced at Chacal, a cool new club that put many San Francisco acts to shame.
Chacal, our first good tunes in a long, long while
A Spanish cubist dream
Our next stop was Guanajuato, a city whose world renown had not reached our ears. Unable to find a decent dusty path through the plain, The Wolf reluctantly agreed to wear our knobbies down on the "Cuota", the express tollway. We swallowed 300 kms in a few hours to discover a city of imbricated cubes of color precariously hanging from the steep slopes of convergent canyons. To add to our amazement, Guanajuato is served by two layers of streets, one underground originally conceived as a way to channel waters from the surrounding mountains. The other overground neatly weaving stairs and inclines to adapt to the demanding relief. The silver rich earth kept Spain's attention until the 18th century, they left an indelible mark on the city, the brighter aspect of which can be admired in the University, theater and palaces. We spent hours marvelling at the man facets of Guanajuato, from its many plazas shaded by topiary trees to the ever changing colors of its buildings around sunset.
A week of rest
Only 60 kms away lay another gorgeous colonial town, San Miguel de Allende, home to the largest colonies of retired Americans that we have seen so far. We took advantage of the hospitality of a local friend, Linda, and thoroughly enjoyed her company for a full week. My inner artist led us to join an art walk of "La Fabrica la Aurora", a rather impressive Art & Design center, kindly referred to an adult summer camp by our host. Our stay allowed us to finally change our bikes' oil that overheated in Baja and rid the Wolfmobile's fuel filter of unknown debris that had choked his performance since San Francisco. We then turned our attention to route planning, devised new ways to coerce OSM, Garmin and Google maps to collaborate and mapped our way to the Guatemalan border. Itching for more dirt, The Wolf took some time to scout out the local dirt tracks, collecting a variety of cactus thorns in the process. Once he'd gotten all the crazy riding out of his system, he took me to one of the river beds he'd found for some long overdue Zebra training. We practiced balance, clutch control and manoeuvring the bike through rocks. All these drills should make it easier to follow the Wolf when the wilderness calls.
Majestic San Miguel de Allende
The first split
Wilderness was already knocking on the door, as the Wolf found some trails and back roads to the Tolantongo hotsprings, our last stop before Mexico City. To the wolf's despair, the first day's back roads were all paved. He was close to calling a cliff a trail when we saw a 2 km detour on the dirt. Things started out easy enough but the small gravel soon turned into large, loose rocks, that once again had me down on the ground. My frustration gave way to awe once we discovered that our campsite for the night would be the front porch of a unoccupied villa at the mouth of a canyon. The view made our cactus-thorns-on-rubber breakfast the next morning slightly less indigestible and wielding tire irons is a good warm-up for a day of adventure.
This was the occasion to finally put on the new Heidenau tire we'd carried since San Francisco. Then we started riding. My crash from the previous day left me without enough confidence to tackle 60 kms of unknown roads. For the first time I left the Wolf to enjoy the mountain trails while I found my way to Tolantongo on pavement.
He was able to try all the crazy things his Wolfy heart desired, which included a crazy stair climb at the end (I have video to post later) He's totally badass. This gave me time to set up camp next to the azure waters of the Tolantongo river, in a nice isolated spot. This was without counting on "Semana Santa" that drove an uninterrupted flow of tourists to our camp throughout the night. We woke up surrounded by screaming kids and tents secured to the Wolfmobile tires. While it felt very disruptive, this chaos turned out to be excellent preparation for our next stop: Mexico City.
We woke up surrounded. The Wolfmobile was lucky not to get a tent peg in his front tire
More pictures here
Tydive
Rides every day
Very cool 
I'm loving your adventure.
I'm loving your adventure.
Mexico D.F.ctuoso
A city of 8.8 million people
After meeting a few hundred mexican tourists in the small campground at Tolantongo we decided things might be more peaceful in Mexico City. We broke down the camp and left the hotsprings as early as we could. The Wolf's reconnaissance of the area's trails paid off and he assessed that I ought to manage the dirts trails out of the canyon. It was a fun ride, perfectly suited to test my newly acquired skills, and I was rewarded with breathtaking views of mountains, switchbacks and the bright turquoise waters far below. Once we were out of the mountains we once again hit the tollway toward our next stop, Mexico D.F. I was feeling intimidated by tackling the world renowned traffic of the country's capital and bribed the Wolf to ride a little slower than usual to make sure I did not get lost in the melee. The time spent wrestling the GPS into submission at Linda's house paid off and it obediently led us to a charming love hotel aptly named: "MaxIntimo"
A city full of wonders
Just a sample of the dramatic architecture around Mexico City
Mexico D.F. or just "D.F." as it's known locally, is spectacular in the grandeur of it's dramatic and opulent historical buildings and also in the dilapidation and deterioration of others. A city so steeped in history has more to see than can be managed in a week, so we had to be very selective. We spent a full day meandering around the Bosque de Chapultepec with it's museums, castles and monuments and even managed to find the hidden auditorium garden. It's a shady cove with a some benches where you can come sit peacefully while listening to classical music pouring from the speakers hidden amongst the trees.
A city under police supervision
The police in D.F. have an atrocious reputation, which we quickly learned is well deserved. On a quest to find the one ferreteria in town selling German crafted Knipex pliers, we got intercepted by Municipal cops in a flashy Dodge Charger. A series of interactional missteps stood in the way of a liberating bribe. Instead, the poor Zebramobile was ridden to the impound by a smirky cop, Zebra hanging to the back seat for fear our steed would disappear on its way. There, a bogus charge taught us how creative cops can be. With the help of US$130 and the assistance of an unforgettably kind taxi driver, the Zebramobile was back on the streets determined to stay clear of any red/blue lights. A visit to the Frida Kahlo museum, a lovely brunch at Maque Pasticeria in Condesa, a few 25 Pesos tostadas at Coyoacan market and 500 pesos sushi on the desperately chic deck of the Condesa DF hotel, sufficed to rekindle us with D.F.
Semana Santa in Oaxaca
Viernes Santa (Good Friday) parade in Oaxaca.
With a blessing of the Angel of the Independence and our lungs full of smog, we escaped the city's traffic on our way to Oaxaca. We stopped for a night in Tehuacan to catch up with the Amazing Spiderman, in English, and felt the tremor of a distant Nicaraguan earthquake.
For our arrival on Viernes Santo, at the end of la Semana Santa, bleeding christs and Klansmen hoods animated the streets of the otherwise peaceful Oaxaca. A Wolf on a horse was the other unusual event that happened that week! At Rancho Pitaya we traded our DRs for champion endurance horses and trotted the hills around Mitla marvelling at the Nueve Puntas mountain in the horizon. An excellent warmup for the next leg of our trip.
More pictures here.
A city of 8.8 million people
After meeting a few hundred mexican tourists in the small campground at Tolantongo we decided things might be more peaceful in Mexico City. We broke down the camp and left the hotsprings as early as we could. The Wolf's reconnaissance of the area's trails paid off and he assessed that I ought to manage the dirts trails out of the canyon. It was a fun ride, perfectly suited to test my newly acquired skills, and I was rewarded with breathtaking views of mountains, switchbacks and the bright turquoise waters far below. Once we were out of the mountains we once again hit the tollway toward our next stop, Mexico D.F. I was feeling intimidated by tackling the world renowned traffic of the country's capital and bribed the Wolf to ride a little slower than usual to make sure I did not get lost in the melee. The time spent wrestling the GPS into submission at Linda's house paid off and it obediently led us to a charming love hotel aptly named: "MaxIntimo"
A city full of wonders
Just a sample of the dramatic architecture around Mexico City
Mexico D.F. or just "D.F." as it's known locally, is spectacular in the grandeur of it's dramatic and opulent historical buildings and also in the dilapidation and deterioration of others. A city so steeped in history has more to see than can be managed in a week, so we had to be very selective. We spent a full day meandering around the Bosque de Chapultepec with it's museums, castles and monuments and even managed to find the hidden auditorium garden. It's a shady cove with a some benches where you can come sit peacefully while listening to classical music pouring from the speakers hidden amongst the trees.
A city under police supervision
The police in D.F. have an atrocious reputation, which we quickly learned is well deserved. On a quest to find the one ferreteria in town selling German crafted Knipex pliers, we got intercepted by Municipal cops in a flashy Dodge Charger. A series of interactional missteps stood in the way of a liberating bribe. Instead, the poor Zebramobile was ridden to the impound by a smirky cop, Zebra hanging to the back seat for fear our steed would disappear on its way. There, a bogus charge taught us how creative cops can be. With the help of US$130 and the assistance of an unforgettably kind taxi driver, the Zebramobile was back on the streets determined to stay clear of any red/blue lights. A visit to the Frida Kahlo museum, a lovely brunch at Maque Pasticeria in Condesa, a few 25 Pesos tostadas at Coyoacan market and 500 pesos sushi on the desperately chic deck of the Condesa DF hotel, sufficed to rekindle us with D.F.
Semana Santa in Oaxaca
Viernes Santa (Good Friday) parade in Oaxaca.
With a blessing of the Angel of the Independence and our lungs full of smog, we escaped the city's traffic on our way to Oaxaca. We stopped for a night in Tehuacan to catch up with the Amazing Spiderman, in English, and felt the tremor of a distant Nicaraguan earthquake.
For our arrival on Viernes Santo, at the end of la Semana Santa, bleeding christs and Klansmen hoods animated the streets of the otherwise peaceful Oaxaca. A Wolf on a horse was the other unusual event that happened that week! At Rancho Pitaya we traded our DRs for champion endurance horses and trotted the hills around Mitla marvelling at the Nueve Puntas mountain in the horizon. An excellent warmup for the next leg of our trip.
More pictures here.