After hundreds of miles of off-roading I was back on the main highway (HWY 1) and heading to Mulege. That night, I stopped to camp on a beach just past Mulege. After pitching my tent, I went into the palapa/restaurant/bar on the beach, the only place where anything was happening. There I met the Gringo owner, Ross, and two older Gringo couples. This crew of five was having their own private shit-show and I decided to join in. I socialized for an hour or so, but I was beat and had to shut’er down for the night. To the tent I went.
The next morning, just as I got out of my tent to beachwhale on the shore, I noticed another motorcyclist cruising the shore. He stopped by my tent to introduce himself. When he removed his helmet, I stood in awe. Robert was a 72 year old German travelling the America’s by himself for the third time. I couldn’t help but to joke with him about the possiblity of a relationship with my grandmother. He chuckled.
As German’s go, he immediately started talking about routes, schedules, strategy, etc. More specifically, he asked how I was going to cross into Colombia because the prices to fly the bike in from Panama had increased to $800 USD. I told him I had no plan, that if there was a ferry that would do, and if not, that a coke-trafficking fishing boat would do just fine. He chuckled, then became cynical when he realized that I was being serious. We exchanged emails. I packed up. I was out.
Oh, I briefly stopped at Santa Rosalia to have some lunch. It was a really colorful town with a lot of character. No pretense whatsoever. It is also one of two port towns (La Paz being the other) where one can cross over to mainland Mexico by ferry. This is where Robert was planning to cross. My plan was to cross-over much further south in La Paz.
