We’re in Cabo San Lucas, our final destination in Baja California. We’ve ridden 1600 km over 16 cycling days in desert landscapes, through cactus forests, and along breath-taking winding mountainous coastal roads. We camped on the beach, in gravel lots of roadside restaurants, and once in a village church yard. Facilities were often basic, toilets with buckets of water to flush and makeshift showers.
There were dogs everywhere. Sometimes they came barking after us, but often it was too hot even for a cursory yelp. Everywhere there were reminders of death on the road: shrines dotted the roadside, most small, some as large as small chapels, many adorned with fresh flowers.
Our first rest day stop was at San Felipe, a ride of 145 km. We had anticipated a relatively uneventful day along mildly undulating terrain. It proved otherwise as a southerly breeze in the early morning morphed within a couple of hours into a bear of a head wind. I cycled with Mike, the organic kiwi farmer from New Zealand.
Mike is a large charismatic fellow with an easy laugh and a passion for his fruit and sustainable farming. He wants his small-scale family farm to continue to yield fruit and profits for generations to come. He’s hard-headed, pragmatic and idealistic. His concern is marrying stewardship of the land with financial viability. He seems to be succeeding. His daughter and her husband are now running the orchard. His succession planning and small-scale farm management may prove to be model for many others. He’s also an ideal cycling partner, steady, reliable and a clear communicator. We had a tough day but a good one drafting together seamlessly over the long distance.
San Felipe is a ramshackle beach resort town. Concrete shells like a parody of ancient ruins dotted the streets. Military pickups with half-a-dozen heavily armed men patrolled the streets. What or whom were they protecting? Soon enough it became evident they were a constant presence in all the towns we passed through. I never became habituated to the sight. When they roared past I inevitably flinched inwardly as if I had stumbled into an uneasy no man’s land.
Our rest-day hotel in San Felipe was a two-storey pink building. Although one of the new developments along the beach front it has already seen better days. Or maybe not. What did we care? It was a break from camping with a real bed, a shower and a luxurious golden-white sand beach where we…
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