For one week we have been full blown tourists in Cabo San Lucas. We’ve done all things Cabo and had a great time with our friends that flew down to meet us at our condo. Now I’m ready to dig into that dirt path once more—away from the busy city lifestyle, where tacos and hotels are half the price and the locals are not pestering you to buy things. Cabo is a beautiful place, but it’s a tourist town, and I’m a country guy at heart. I look forward to being back in the saddle.
Returning to Dirt
This saddle hurts. It’s funny how one week of luxury softens a guy up so much. It’s the price we pay—traveling so lightly on race bikes. I don’t mind. There is just something about riding a pure dirt bike on a road that feels so good. It’s legal, but you feel like an outlaw. And at any moment, you can jump a curb, cross a creek, or fly down the beach. It’s freedom. Off-road is always the preferred route, but with a time schedule and miles to make, we take the highway north to Todos Santos where the really sweet riding will start in the morning. The famous “Hotel California” is the centerpiece of the town. It has been renovated recently and obviously using the popularity of the song as a marketing tool. We stay across the street at a motel for a third of the price. Our place has a pool, but we shower off the “pond scum” after a dip.
It’s worth mentioning that before Chris, David, and I leave Cabo rejuvenated, David gave his bike some much needed TLC in the form of a new clutch and fork seals. Chris and David also got some fresh rear tires but paid dearly for them since they were imported from California. We all decided to skip on new fronts. I thought we could make it without them.
Day two starts off with David testing his dying shock by jumping down a few sets of stairs with Chris at his heels. Great for a photo, but we still have 1,000 miles to limp this bike back to the border.
Just outside of town we hit the dirt, which takes us to the beach heading north. Using preloaded Google maps on an iPhone and photos of paper maps, we figure we can take the beach 10-15 miles and hook up to another dirt “road.” It’s early in the day and we have full tanks, so we can afford to take the unknown for now. The wind blows a light salty mist from the ocean as we put it in fourth gear near the crashing waves. The sand is wet, firm, and fun. Hundreds of seagulls wait until the last possible moment to scramble into the air as we ride up upon flock after flock.