Crossings in the Baja Desert

If By Chance You Meet a Friend
- Alexa Goldfarb, moontriber and fellow visionary

If by any chance you meet a friend in the desert...
hold that friendship sacred.
For it is a rare and wonderful thing to spy a creature such as yourself
in that space...
a rare and wonderful thing indeed.
And as you grow in that friendship and love, you will become like a
magnet for others ready to connect with you in their own unique way.
And if you respect each new connection as the first, there will continue to be
Joy in the sight of each other...
as if you were seeing for the first time.
Comfort in each other´s company...
like family.
And within that bond there will be
Growth and strength
Support and forgiveness
Laughter and affection
Kindness and generosity
And it will all seem so familiar...
and new at the same time.

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These words seem appropriate now that I have crossed the longest and most remote stretch of desert into Baja California del Sur, crossing the 28th Parallel, officially the furthest point South I have ever been in my life.

If Baja California ever boasts of perfect weather, I will be the gendarme that stands up to declare otherwise. Since my departure from Ensenada, the skies wreaked havoc with rain and heavy winds for five days! That meant five days of rising up to mournful and malicious clouds, and searching deep within myself whether to ride that day or not. Fortunately, I had enough strength and resolve through three of those storm-days to battle headwinds and spin against mud-soaked streets. Perhaps it was for the better, however, that the virtues of patience and reason convinced me to stay put for the other two storm-days. The first, as you know, was in Ensenada, and the second was in the sleepy little Mexican pueblo of El Rosario. I´m probably alive today because of these two forced ¨rest¨days.

Needless to say, the most frustrating thing during that week of the storm was how muddy and filthy it got everything. I spent each evening tending to Bucephalus´chains and dérailleurs, only to find them speckled with mud and grit the next day. I´m happy to report, nonetheless, that as I write now from Guerrero Negro in Baja California del Sur, that both of our gears and bearings and muscles, and hopefully our minds, are all in working order. The weather has also finally cleared, giving me three days of sunshine to help me cross the first of three trans-peninsular desert crossings.

Everyday has been an eventful one thus far, and each moment of this journey brings me to new and adventurous experiences - from my camp sites each night, to the ride itself, but most vividly, the cast of characters I have encounterd along the way have been unbelievably incredible, thus the poem I started out this post with. Crossings in the desert are truly special.

First there was Bianca, in Ensenada. Then, while finding shelter from the nightlong rain in an old abandoned building just outside San Vicente, at 3am in the morning, a figure startled me with a whistle (it seems, everyone here whistles to catch people´s attention, especially when good looking women are involved). After clutching on to my trusty blade and being thrown to full alert, I realized that he was just as startled as I was and that his was a whistle of alarm. I spent a few moments with my still-broken Spanish getting to know Javier, who lived inside a ramshackled house across the field from where I was. He couldn´t sleep and was in a mood to talk, and so we did. He turned out to be unbelievably kind, and was very patient as I explained my journey to him. He told me his story of growing up in Michoacan and coming to Baja California for work. In what struck me as the most genuine display of friendship, he invited me to his home for coffee and breakfast as the sun broke through the clouds in a fiery display of dawn. We spent hours that morning sharing stories, and as soon as the rain lulled around 10am, I hesitantly departed San Vicente, still shocked at this guy´s hospitality!

Then there was Fernando in El Rosario, who engaged me in a lively conversation about God and religion as I was waiting out the storm. Again, inviting me to his little home overlooking the desert, I felt incredibly touched that complete strangers would take the time to get to know me and listen to my miserable Spanish. That same morning, as I was having breakfast at Senora Elsa´s loncheria, the trickle of rain from the morning turned into a veritable flood, bringing the whole pueblo to a wreck. Her little makeshift loncheria was flooded and as her husband frantically shoveled dirt and gravel to channel the water away from their meager belongings, I felt like I was finally taking part in a story of struggle, triumph, and celebration. They explained to me that a storm of such ferocity had not hit Baja for over five years. Regardless, I am thankful I did not ride that day, not just for being alive today, but also for meeting Fernando and Elsa.

The next day, I stocked up on food and water to attempt a crossing of the vast Baja desert. Through post-storm crosswinds and endless hills, I rode into Catavina. The landscape was magically transformed to a rich harmony of giant boulders, huge cardon cactus (which look a lot like Saguaros), Boojun trees (which look like stringy Christmas trees), and Cirios (which look like inverted carrots with flowers coming off the end!). When I finally figure out how to post pictures, I hope these childish descriptions come to life.

That night, and every night in the desert thereafter, I drifted off to sleep beneath a blanket of innumerable stars. With the sweet smell of verdant sage, I was flooded with a wave of memories and emotions - from an endless summer in the Sierra Nevada courting the Milky Way each night, to that special night in the Black Rock Desert with my dear friend Natalie, as the constellations we traced guided each other´s eyelids along the slow and meandering path to slumber.

Amidst the boulder fields and flora of Catavina, teary and exuberant, I thus proclaimed that any place I would ever choose to settle in would be bathed in the symphony of starlight and the simple harmony of sagebrush.

Fortunately, my journey onward from Guerrero Negro bids well - there are two more major desert crossings, a string of historic Baja missions, and beautiful stretches of beaches along the Sea of Cortez I hope to camp on.

Most of all, I await more crossings in the desert and more experiences that seem all too familiar and new at the same time. Amidst it all, thoughts of friends and family and home abound during those long stretches of riding.

If the winds bode well and the hills are kind, I will likely be arriving in La Paz around Christmas time.

Until then, here´s to wishing you all a Merry Christmas.

Happy Trails,
Japhy