Dressed to thrill....

Only now does the time start to drag on, I'm not going to make predictions of when I can make a start again; that is in the hands of the Mexican god, servicio correo (postal services). He's a bit of a cantankerous old fart, doesn't like to be rushed and simply refuses to give any information about where he is, or likely to be at any given time. Despite being electronically tagged he vanishes for days, even weeks, at a time. With never the slightest chance of apology, or hint of his where abouts, he miraculously appears with gay aplomb.

Of course, there is also the slight concern about the knee, known in medical circles as a bit of a complicated little swine, which I can't discount having further problems with. Three days of relative rest and ice packs has taken the swelling away. I’ve left it strapped up, but I’ve had a few quite painful twinges if sideways pressure is exerted. This is the knee which gave me occasional problems anyway, of exactly this nature. I think it’s merely aggravated it, something I was once told by a specialist could be sorted by physio; in other words, appropriate exercise. It’s always possible to strap it up, ride sparingly, then gently exercise and rest in the evenings and night time. No, don’t send in your concerns, please! I am here to do a journey, I’m not going to live forever, and sometimes you have to take a few chances to achieve the things that matter to you. This journey matters to me, a lot; if I didn’t think I could manage on a weakened knee......Well I’d probably bloody try anyway! It’s not as if there will be any shortage of doctors, and hey, they all love an injured Gringo!

To pass the time away, I've taken to hiding around town and shooting innocent bystanders. Being stuck in a city, however nice a city, makes the people a very interesting factor. They really can make or break a destination, in La Paz (meaning Peace) they make it a reasonable place to stay. And that's a real compliment from me, I hate cities! But it is tranquilo aqui, pleasant to sit for a while and watch the world go by. A polite and cheery Hola, or Buenos Dias, is invariably greeted with a smile and reciprocal greeting. Though my command of Spanish is so bad they could be telling me to get stuffed, with a smile.

Went to the beach yesterday, courtesy of our resident artist, Carlos. We listened to a four piece classical set at an environmental conference, interesting; shame I couldn't understand the talks. Also a shame the governor didn't turn up to get slagged off, he's just sold off loads of public land to private developers. The land has an important ecological significance, there are rare wetlands and important habitats for many birds. No-one knows where the money has gone from the sale either. But that's Mexican politicians for you. He did actually turn up, more than two hours late! As we were on our way back, Carlos had stopped for some photos, a huge entourage of vehicles, ten or more, flew past on the way to Balandra, where the conference was. The place was already teeming with police and militia armed with fully automatics, it was incredible, he’s only a bloody regional governor! That's where I meet this tongue slurping, hairless dog.

My pleasure in these photo's of Cai is his own delight in dressing up, a pleasure I share with him, but unfortunately only shared in person a few times. It always brought a smile to my face, seeing him painted and groomed, digging out appropriate pieces of my own own clothes and happy snapping once complete. For this I must thank his college crowd, they brought out this aspect of him. One thing about the guy was the many different aspects to his life, he enjoyed so many things, and brought joy into so many lives.

This photo of an old indian woman, I passed her begging humbly on the street, is lovely. After giving her some money I asked to take her photo, she was delighted, the smile says it all. And the violent woman? Just a mother metering out justice to a kick happy brat! I was touched by the closeness of the young girl and her mother, a gentle touch of reassurance; so nice to see from child to parent. A pleasure I enjoyed myself, on many occasions! How I could envy that woman; but no, she has my blessing. A very lucky woman indeed!

But she told me to exercise!

With my knee seizing up it was imperative to exercise it, to keep mobility. And exercise it I did. At least once an hour, despite it's reluctance to cooperate, I put it through it's paces; bending it backwards and forwards. Pain is relative, more pain, more gain; actually not necessarily! Fate sent a German paramedic to the hotel, he expressed his concern over my knee, bastard! The swelling was coming back, seems to indicate the muscle not healed, maybe re-torn; what, more rest, ice, jeezus christ. Just when I was thinking I'd be out of here in a few days!

If I'd have taken the full advice given by the doctor, my knee may have seen ice in the first place, it may have healed enough to initiate a regime of exercise. Never mind, my bike bits haven't arrived from Mexican customs yet, so I need something to occupy my mind. I've run out of English books, can't get any more, so boredom is kicking in. Being able to concentrate on healing gracefully will keep me busy. As well as random photo's caught on the street outside the hotel.

One thing that's taken a considerable amount of time is looking back at Cai's life, and death. The memories, both good and bad; allowing the grief free reign, giving time to release some pain. One night I went through the entire photobucket selection of his photo's. Boy did it ever make me cry! I can't get Internet in my room, so it happened in the courtyard shelter of the hotel. There were only a few people around, I wouldn't have given a shit anyway; why should I?

For about an hour I cried like a baby teething, nothing could have stopped it; or so I thought. I didn't think I could look at a photo of Cai without breaking down; but then it started happening! Seeing that gorgeous smile, that happy face; who couldn't smile when faced with that miracle. And the tears went, to be replaced with a smile, to bring a happy feeling into my heart. Much as it breaks my heart to have lost such an amazing son, it makes me feel so privileged to have had such an amazing son.

Even though writing this see's me in tears, its no longer purely grief, I've a smile on my face as I cry. If eighteen years was the longest I was to enjoy life with Cai, then I'm eternally grateful to have had that time. To have shared what we had was the most phenomenal experience I could ever have wished for. It brought more joy into my life than I could have imagined. It may well have left a void, beyond my ability to see past; but those precious years mean more than any loss ever could.

And so I leave you with the smile that could have conquered the world, one in millions! He may barely have reached manhood, but what a man. Bright, sensitive, sensible, caring, adventurous, fun, loving; the list is infinite. Its a poor world indeed, that won't get to see this person reach his peak. Yet I have a feeling, actually more than just a feeling, that his memory will bring forward many a good deed. The world will still benefit, it's the legacy left behind, the goodness he filled people with. In his memory, from his family and friends, I hope many will follow suite and help those in need, all over the world. Let Christmas be a time of giving, to those who most need it.

Bend on the mend....

Nearly a week has gone by since I saw the trauma specialist, so how’s it gone? I obeyed his master’s voice, actually rested for a full four days, took my medication as prescribed; oh, I forgot the hot and cold compresses, and went for a short walk each day. But that couldn’t be helped as stated before, I had to eat! My knee is much better, there is still a bit of swelling but mobility is so good in comparison. I’ve been exercising it regularly, bending it to the point of pain, then a bit beyond. Remember, pain is good, if you can feel it, you know you’re alive.


The fifth day after the doc, I could be found frantically stripping off the damaged items from the bike, at least trying to. Polo, he would be out every half an hour, chastising me for doing too much too soon. Now, I’m sure it’s better to do too much too soon, than too little too late; but I won’t start a philosophical debate on that point. He was right in this case! The next morning I woke up stiff, in the knee joint, and decided to take it easy again. It allowed me time to do gradual stretching exercises, by the evening I felt fine for a walk around town.


The sunsets here are amazing; riding through mountains hasn’t done a lot for seeing many such sights. Even the desert regions I’ve been in have tended to have the horizons obscured by mountains, great at the time; but boy, have I missed those sunsets. Not that it felt so at the time, I was grateful for the immediate darkness and the complete lack of any reflection into the sky. I guess it’s all about being grateful for what you’ve got, when you’ve got it. How well do we generally manage that one?

I like La Paz, a typical small Mexican city, with a hint of tourism. Different form the towns along the peninsula, there is more than one tar macadam road, and no sign of those dry dusty tracks, the only thoroughfares once off the main road. Tonight I walked far and wide, couldn’t find a single unpaved road; shame the pavements aren’t in as good condition. They’re a nightmare for the casual cripples like myself, not that I could see a lot in the areas I was walking. Luckily I’m not limping too much; a cripple with a camera hanging off the shoulder could be a bit of a liability. But I love these type of walks, go one way, talk a few turns into ever darker sections of the city, and after an hour or so start following your nose and find the way back. It’s a guaranteed way of discovering unseen areas of the city, confidence and a dash of stupidity go a long way to keeping safe.

I didn’t take out my camera in the dark dismal places, I’m not that stupid, but tried to capture a bit of night time La Paz. I’m not sure what the business, “Urrea” was; but I think they were taking the piss. I did appreciate the Cathedral, it makes a lovely setting for the city square; it’s bland, even ugly, at daytime. The promenade is the city’s nicest feature, though only in a modern western type of way, the wonky pavements and pot holed roads are the real character of this place. If you’re really unfortunate you even find the odd restaurant on these darkened streets, I did and it charged $40 a meal; rather than the 40 pesos I have been paying. At 10 pesos to $1 that’s some difference!

All'swell thats ends well.....

Maybe, for those people who don't live their lives with excitement and risk, it sounds strange for me to be so carefree about having an accident, it could easily have seen my permanent downfall. Riding bikes for so many years has seen me have a number of accidents, maybe I'm a poor rider, maybe I take unnecessary risks. There are too many maybe's in life; I, for one, can't live my life by maybe's alone. Riding a motorcycle creates a cascade of maybe's, whenever you straddle that machine and pull away. If you don't recognise that,or aren't prepared to take that risk, you have no right to be riding. If, however, the thrill and joy of riding, of melding, man and machine, battling the elements, is greater than the risk, then you will soar the heights of delight.

Mad or not, I delight in riding motorcycles. I'll ride in the most atrocious weather, for long miles, and still enjoy it. It makes me feel alive! It had the same effect on Cai, even on some really awful days he still rode into college. Seeing him bump starting his bike everyday for months, was proof of his devotion, his enjoyment of riding; he was what I would describe as a true motorcyclist. He relished the art of motorcycling, being at one with his machine; even if it was only a crappy Chinese 125. However distraught I am over losing Cai, I can't deny the gladness I've felt over his delight in riding. We shared some wonderous times ridng, and enthusing over rides, both individually and shared experiences. What sort of a fool would I be to reject all this, just because he got killed on a bike. He was at the height of his enjoyment when he died, a better bike than he ever thought of having, embarking on a great adventure. What better way to die. Where he was meant so much to him, he was more than ready for it, he was desperate for it. Desperate for the biggest adventure of his life yet; of which he'd had more than most, even those three or even four times his age.

And so I come back to me, my own accident; only the latest in my life of riding; another injury of many. Has it put me off, don't be silly; it's reinforced my determination. At a time where I've been so close to packing it all in, nearly ready to go home, feeling a failure. I actually felt ashamed at my thoughts and feelings at the scene of this accident. A thought popped into my mind, "now I can just go home", an excuse to give up was all it was. If I have had my fill I shouldn't need an excuse, I should be man enough to go home gracefully.

After the drastic news a couple of days ago I've decided to bring you all up to date. Immediately after the accident I took a few very strong painkillers, my stash for just such emergencies. I'd had no breakfast, so I had to hobble into town to find a restuarant. OK, people were worried at the hotel, "Senor Les, you are alright?" Of course I was, I was dosed up to my eyeballs with Codeine and Paracetamol. I even pushed the bike up two curbs, into the hotel courtyard; that was Tuesday night. By wednesday morning it had swelled and stiffened a lot; so, I expected it to stiffen over night. What I didn't expect was for it to carry on swelling and stiffening, by mid-day my calf was swollen and throbbing like hell as well. My knee was as tight as a drum, I had no movement in my leg and I was starting to worry; might this be a lot worse than first thought? I still blamed my stupidity of walking so far the day before, a normal sort of thing for me to do; a painful injury, pop some painkillers and do what I want.

Paulo, from the hotel, saw how swollen it was and called El Patron, the doctor of the house. The decision was unaminous, I should see a doctor, so it was arranged to see El Patron's sister, a specialist in trauma injuries. As it turned out I saw a collegue of her's, I was also lucky to be accompanied by Paulo, as a translator. And I was lucky, if I hadn't had someone to explain what was going on, I would have objected severely to the pain I was subjected to, as the specialist manipulated my knee. This was even more the case when the doctor wanted to stick a needle into my knee joint, to drain out the fluid trapped around the kneecap. Boy was that painful, but hey, pain lets you know you're still alive. He was really chuffed to extract 45cc of fluid, Paulo looked like he'd faint any second; I don't think he realised what he was letting himself in for.

It may well have hurt, whilst the fluid was pushed and squeezed to where the needle was located, but the effect was apparent as soon as he finished: or was it just the relief of him stopping? There was no pain, as soon as I got to my feet a smile sprang across my face. No throbbing, pain free hobbling; a new lease of life. I didn't blink when a bill of $150 was presented, the relief was so intense. The x-ray showed no bone damage, so hopefully it will be fine, only four days of complete rest. I'm sure that will be a real hardship, and I kid you not. How easy do you think it will be for me to stay resting for that length of time, without a beach to hang my bits out on? Believe me, it will be torture, I detest sitting around doing nothing. So while being debilitated I'm learning some Spanish, I guess it might come in handy some day,eh?

Downed but not out!

What a plonker I am! One of the most basic things to teach new riders is the necessity of making "life saver" observations every time you adjust your position on the road. Shame i didn't do that today, If I had I wouldn't be hobbling around with a bent and buckled bike to fix. I got hit in the side as I went to overtake this morning, great hey? I was going to continue to the mainland, get it sorted once there, but decided to stay in La Paz. There's enough facilities to sort it out here, and an English speaking worker at the hotel, it makes fixing us both so much easier.

Once hit I didn't know how bad it was going to get, I saw myself careening into the back of a truck, then felt us both go down. My only thought was, "this is the end of my trip," I was amazed at the lack of damage to us both. Trying to stand, my knee gave way, I had to roll up my trousers and check it. With no sign of damage I could accept it was only pain, nothing serious! What a relief! The young girls in the car were really upset, crying and convinced I must be badly hurt. I don't know how fast they were going, they weren't there before i put my indicator on, my fault for not checking again before pulling out. A stupid local idiosycracy is the use of the left indicator, they use it to mean it's safe to overtake. Of course the problem is how can the other drivers know whether you mean this, or that you are about to overtake, or even turn left.


The bracket for the headlight assembly is bent, so easy to fix. The worst damage has been done to my nice new boxes, the rack on one side has been torn apart and the mounting components knackered. The standard rear rack has broken, some bracing will sort that out. The actual ali boxes should bend back into shape, they aren't as bad as they look. All in all I've been very lucky; son of a bitch, could have done with that sort of luck four months ago!

I've recently been given information concerning Cai's bike. There was found to be a gelatinous substance blocking the fuel jets in the Carb, so it seems reasonable to see this as the cause of the loss of power Cai experienced, which caused his accident and subsequent death. If I've learnt nothing else in the course of the journey, shit happens, whether by your own omission or someone elses, it is unavoidable in life. We have to accept it and carry on the best we can, it's no good allowing it to effect the rest of your life. sooner or later you have to pick up the pieces and start again. Nothing can alter what has happened, however desperate we may be, and it may take some time to have the strength to continue; but continue we must!

Bye bye Baja

What better way to finish a nice chilled out time on the beach than to get completely plastered on the last day! Tequila and lashings of beer does the job nicely, a 300 mile ride tends to work it out the system too. I must be mad, whatever possessed me to get so faceless the day before leaving. I so wish I could blame the others I was with, unfortunately the tequila was my idea, my treat to the group. None of us could even remember getting back to our beach, miraculously the camera I left out for hours stayed put, and I'm sure Errol will find his teeth again.

It would have been easy to stay for another week, no effort what so ever, but I wouldn't achieve anything. My tan is topped up nicely, as I'm sure you can appreciate; in one of those rare photos of yours truly. I've put this in to show folks there is no permanent disfigurement from the mozzie bites, after people showed so much concern. Please put your worries aside, I am alive and well, fit and healthy.

I've really enjoyed watching the various birds along this stretch of coast, shame the best shots were missed. Isn't it amazing how the batteries always choose the worst time to run out. But here is a Pelican just hitting the water, rather than wings folded back falling from the sky. The osprey would have made another good photo, as would the dolphins. Actually the dolphins stood no chance of getting photographed, I was straight in the water, swimming out to them. But they were too busy eating fish to play with me, I didn't get nearer than ten metres or so.

The nicest thing at present is the ability to wash myself and some clothes. There were no showers on the beach, any water had to be fetched, that was purified and was not to be wasted on washing. The outcome of this was 10 days without soap contaminating my body, I wondered why I lost five shades of tan in the shower. So, I've succumbed to the luxury of a hotel again. I'm in La Paz, about to cross the sea of Cortez. My accommodation is the Hotel Yeneka, a lovely quirky hotel that is filled with all manner of weird and wonderful junk. I rode the bike up a few steps, through the entrance hall and into the courtyard. I was worried about wrecking the place, there are so many bits and pieces everywhere.

Paradise revealed

I personally never found the deserts I encountered boring, they have seemed varied and interesting. For sure they've induced torpor and sleep, only due to the extreme heat while travelling through them. Even on a motorcycle this can be a potential problem, keeping hydrated is vital. Also concentration can waver easily, mind you mine can at any time. This morning I nearly ran off the road, while looking at a lovely tree lined river going into town. My wheels were half off the tarmac edge, with a drop of a couple of inches and soft, sandy gravel below it would have been nasty. With only a low barrier for protection I would have plummeted a fair way; the bike would have stayed at the roadside though. So at least I wouldn't have gotten crushed by that as well, but I'd rather not think about that: now where was I?

Riding highways through the desert! With long mileage to cover and little traffic I tend to keep my interest active by noticing what there is and how it changes. Once we got off the dirt road the other day there were many miles of hot arid riding to do. For a long time the scenery was devoid of any interest, flat barren plain for as far as the eye could see; dead scrub was the only addition to featureless plain. There was a backdrop of mountains, they were very distant, only vague shadows on the horizon. Having just noted these things it suddenly changed, and I do mean suddenly. With no apparent change in altitude or topography cacti appeared, a whole multitude of them, dominated by the tall branching type; they formed so many strange shapes. Many had only one branch growing from their lower extremes, they were upthrust protuberances; the only way to describe them is like erect penis’. Most unfair really, there were no female equivalents; try as I might I saw nothing that resembled pert, or even saggy, breasts or buttocks. Soon another cactus took dominance, this was more like a shrub, actually it looked more like a coral than a cactus, even up close. At one stage it was so numerous there was no room for anything else between the giants.

The mountain range in Baja seems to hug the coast for so much of the time. Our route invariably swings back into the hills as we near the coast, for so long they have been a far distant view, only vaguely visible. But each time we've swung inland, and returned to the coast, we've encountered a delightful stretch of road. Hugging the hillside it will twist and turn at the precipitous edge, rising steeply and plunging again out of sight, round the next bend. Each bend holds the promise of my first sight of the sea, when it comes I can feel my heart lift, as more is exposed the joy intensifies. These are the times I look forward to, knowing what will great me as I near the coast. Even if the reality doesn't hold true, the initial pleasure is still intense.

I'm now at Playa El Coyote, just south of Mulege, on the east coast of Baja. By the time I leave I'll have been here for a week, it's great, a beach to relax on. You could say it's paradise, but a shower at least once would be nice, as would some fresh water within walking distance. But listen to me, a spoilt brat of the western world, expecting everything layed on, with no effort on my behalf. Wow, what a hardship! Today I've had to start my bike and ride into town to fetch some water, what a drag! As you can see from the photo's, the beach looks great, its virtually deserted and cost next to nothing. Of course, being in a place frequented by hoards of USA citizens, it gives very little in return. As the economists say, "there's no such thing as a free lunch", rich hoards ensure holiday destinations adhere to this philosophy.

So I’ve been dossing on the beach for three days so far. Having such a relaxed time hasn‘t induced me to write anything, all I’ve really done is to lay in the sun and read. Each day I go to the end of the beach, strip off, and enjoy some time alone. Yes, my vanity still urges me to get an all over tan; why I don’t know! Is it habit, or do I actually enjoy the total exposure to the sun? A bit of both really, I do actually l like being tanned all over. I enjoy feeling the sun on my whole body, I like the feeling of being naked, I love the sense of freedom it gives me. There is nothing exhibitionist in this (I claim anyway); inevitably I ensure I’m alone, not to give offence to those who feel uncomfortable with my nakedness. The last couple of days people have been within sight of me, but if I’ve gone to the effort to be secluded can they really object? Well they can, but whether they are justified in that is another matter. Live and let live i say!

Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside

The morning after my last blog I awoke to the sight of four vultures, perched above me, watching me. I’m sure it was with no innocent intent, without succumbing to paranoia it could only be dealt with in the best of humour. I’d love to say it filled me with foreboding, but they were powerless to deliver anything worse than what’s already happened. It was enlightening, I’d not seen them up close before; in flight they look almost majestic, soaring effortlessly for hours on end. They really are the ugliest bitches you can imagine, scraggy, bald heads and necks with cumbersome movement. Sitting atop cacti they can be seen early morning, wings outstretched, warming themselves in the sun. Hmmm, glad I didn’t sleep in late that day!

I’d been advised not to ride a certain desert trail by one person; however, another had ridden it and claimed it wasn’t anything serious. Confirmation was gotten from a local American, so we decided to follow a dirt road across the desert to take in a 300 year old mission and some rock paintings in a canyon; which was a slight detour, of a couple of km (or so we were told by the same kind guy). As it turned out the detour was a 12 mile round trip, through deep sand, which I did not appreciate in the slightest. Anyway, the trail started about 10 miles outside Bahia de Los Angeles, the mission was 20 miles into the desert; there was another ride out of 20 miles. We’d left early, so had the whole day to do it; I also had back up, in case it proved too problematic for me. But hey, the longest distance to walk out could only be twenty miles, so what could go wrong? And before you pessimists get any ideas, nothing went wrong; well not really wrong anyway.

Leaving the highway saw us being really sensible, for the first time this trip I reduced the pressure in my tyres; a recognised necessity for off road riding. One I’ve been too lazy to bother with before, could never feel it was worthwhile for my little jaunts into the dirt; besides, it would have meant having to blow them up again when I got to the highway. So with only 17 psi of pressure, off I went into the lead. There was some amount of corrugations, no problem, keep the speed to a minimum of 30mph and the bike skims over the top of them. I was taking it steady, allowing myself time to get used to the conditions, gaining confidence; it has been a while since riding any distance off road, a few weeks at least! It took shape pretty fast, I felt OK, fairly relaxed, a bit excited about riding through the desert; mixed with a bit of awe about taking the plunge into a hostile environment. We thought we’d missed the turn for the paintings, a couple of miles on a signpost showed we hadn’t. Wow, how civilised is that? With signposts you can’t really feel it to be that hostile, so with a nod of agreement I turned off, with David hot on my heels. Jeeezusss! My front wheel was all over the place, I’d been advised to paddle through soft sand, to cope with the massive weight of my bike. All this seemed to achieve was to keep my balance swaying from one side to the other, never quite getting it under control. I crawled along, doing about 10mph, trying to keep in the tyre tracks of the last 4x4, where the sand was shallower. Every time my wheel hit the deeper sand to the side it slewed off track, I had to put a foot down then, which meant swaying from side to side until I regained my balance. This went on for 6 frigging miles, I was gripped, totally!

It was such a relief to stop for a quick look at the paintings, not that they were very impressive; the setting was worth it though, and a break from the sand trail was a blessing. Only having whole coffee beans meant Davo had to turn Abo and get to grips with grinding them with rocks, ain't it nice to get back to nature? If it's good enough for generations of caffeine addicts, it's good enough for us!refuelled, we set off for the main event; the 300 year old mission, Santa Borja. The ride out the canyon was tackled in a more relaxed way, slightly faster and a couple of falls; surprise, surprise! Ain't I just glad Dave was there as backup; no sweating and heaving for half an hour on my own. Once back on the main track I could relax completely, pure bliss! For sure it was loose and rough, there were some very rocky sections, lots of steep rises and steeper drops; there was certainly no such thing as straight sections, it was really twisty, snaking around the forest of cacti.

How beautiful, what a difference the lower tyre pressure made. After the dreaded sand it was delightful, so what is a man supposed to do? Open the damn throttle, that's what! So that's what I did, it was such a surprise to look down and see the speedo reading 50mph. Cobbles? No problem! Sharp bends? Ease off the throttle a touch, until I could see what was there, and gun the little beauty. I was aware of sharp rocks jutting out the ground, easy, weave around them. Oh boy, how delightful! I was in hog heaven, dust fishtailing behind, David nowhere in sight; all I was aware of was the amazing view of trail and desert. Each time I stopped for David I greeted him with a huge grin, such fun. This was definitely the most difficult track ridden so far, and I loved every minute of it. I was amazed at how well I coped, in fact it wasn't a matter of coping, I relished every second spent riding through the desert. It was almost a disappointment when we finally reached the mission, I was just keen to get going again.

When Dave suggested we camped out in the open desert I readily agreed, what a great idea. Something I've never done independently, only as part of an organised tour. The idea of prolonging the desert riding experience was too good to resist, we had food, water and plenty of fuel. Travelling half the distance out seemed the best idea, this ensured we were far away form any other signs of habitation. With a fire lit, carefully, we settled down to a pretty awful meal of fish, pasta, salsa and sweetcorn. To be honest, it wouldn't have mattered what we ate, the experience was amazing. There was not the slightest sound from anything, there was no source of light other than our campfire; once dark the only view was a hundred million stars. The intensity of the night sky was unbelievable, I lay awake for much of the night, marvelling at the sight.

so there I sat staring at the night sky, and behold, another falling star. My only wish is that Cai did not die, a wish that can never come true. I also think of parallel universes, I hope there are such things; maybe another Cai will survive, and go on to achieve the greatness my son could have, if still alive. When I think of the future it is still with thoughts of Cai; as thoughts come to mind I need to remind myself, I can’t share these with him. I must look forward to what I can do myself, relying on myself for my hopes and dreams. If that means a lonely life, then so be it; it doesn’t have to be though, I can allow others in to share with me. I can, and should, open up to the possibility of sharing my life with others. Maybe I shouldn’t rely on that, to do so could mean living with false hope. But to ignore the possibility, is to deny myself so much.

And now, its sun time! To spend a few days relaxing, quiet beach, baking hot sun......

Still heading down South; with dry, but puffy, eyes!

Phew! I almost expected a torrent of comments after my last blog entry, I'm glad there wasn't. It was so good to be reminded how hard I found it when I first set out from Ojai. There were days of enormous insecurity, miles of tear laden road, and an overwhelming desire to turn back and be with loved ones. I guess some things will take a long time to change, my grief over losing Cai will never change; I'm sure it will become more bearable though, as it has for much of the time already. For the support I received I am eternally grateful, all points made rang so true. I would feel a failure not to continue at this stage, the only reason being emotional desperation. I realised, to stop now could well mean an inability to continue at a later date. I need this for myself, to feel capable, competent and strong. I have no desire to punish myself, but that is only a state of mind; which I should be capable of controlling!

As there is only one main highway down through Baja that's been the route taken, we've had our little detours, as always; nothing is straight forward with me, eh? Since leaving San Vicente we've stayed three of the four nights at beaches, each has had it's distinctive points. Our first night away we travelled a dirt road, the intention to reach a beach with gorgeous sand dunes and miles of empty sand. We made it to the sand, no problem; it was getting through the sand that proved difficult. David got stuck in his camper, sunk up to the wheelbase. When signalled not to follow him I promptly got stuck myself, I bit of a push was all I needed; poor David had to jack the slug bus up and repack underneath the wheels. At least by the time he'd finished I had supper on the go, we made an impromptu camp in the dark and settled down for the night. Whilst I tried sleeping I suffered the scourge of the tropics, known here as, "el poquito mosquito bastado". Hence how I ended up looking like elephant man, bitten on both bloody eyelids and below the eyes. Gaddamn!

Our mileage has been fairly low, our travel quite slow. I'm content to follow the slug at about 50-55mph, slower for problematic occasions. we needed to blow the bus tyres back up after reducing the pressure after the beach episode, all the way back into San Quintin; at least we refuelled at the same time. Only got about ten miles though before an unscheduled stop, David could smell petrol in the cab, a fuel pipe had given up the ghost. No problem, gallant Sir Les to the rescue! I rode to the next town, 25 miles away to get a replacement. Why the next town? Simple I would have been too embarrassed to return, yet again, to S.Q. The ride forward was brilliant, lovely curvy roads, gorgeous views and a chance to spot another good campsite. We stayed a mere ten miles further on, atop a small cliff, overlooking a lively stretch of coast.

One of the most relaxing sounds is that of crashing surf. To sit and watch a myriad of birds is delightful, it doesn't matter whether you know what the hell they are; the pleasure is still immense for me. And what pleasure, the sun setting, Pelicans gliding mere inches above the surf, waders feeding at the water's edge and hot stew cooking on the camp stove. I think there is little that could have settled my mind better than this combination, it does take some beating; it certainly made me glad of the experience.

Isn't it strange, after so many experiences of wildlife in North America the sight of very common birds can still enthuse me with so much joy. But to watch these Pelicans in flight and feeding was truly delightful. In the morning I watched them flying in formation, synchronised, skimming the ocean. As the lead bird ceased flapping so did those behind, as he started to flap his wings again they would follow suit. Amazing how such simple observations can fill me with delight, bring on a tranquility to carry throughout the day.

The whole of the Baja peninsula is desert really, but by no means is it even vaguely boring. No two area are quite the same, each day has seen a vastly different landscape; even from one hour to the next. For some reason when we think of desert we think sand, maybe some rocks and cacti, the odd snake or lizard. Pah, it's incredible just how much variety there is to be found. We had a long stretch of scrubby desert, tinder dry,blowing as tumbleweed along the highway. The earth was a browny mud/sand mixture, very course, interspersed with the odd cactus. As we travelled the number of cacti increased, and the soil disappeared, replaced by a jumble of rocks for as far as the eye could see. And today we were treated to the most amazingly beautiful soft sand, and jungle of immense cacti. This had a back drop and mountains, large and crystal clear on the horizon. Yes, I am alive, and very glad of it too.


The size of the cacti increased with the numbers, and the variety. The height of some were magnificent, easily 40 feet of more, and the girth was incredible. They are bigger than the average tree at home, how old they are is beyond my imagination. Cultured areas I thought were maybe for export, then discovered it is part of the local staple diet; though there are none on the menus I've seen in the restaurants. Its been a shame there are so few places to stop at the roadside, most edges have a drop of at least six inches, into steeply sloping loose sand. It's too dodgy to stop on the road itself, the first truck will flatten you, they don't stop for anything, except the Federales.

Here is yet another geodesic dome, it was a desert museum showing the flora and fauna of the local desert. It made for a brief respite while wondering what was wrong with the camper, it would appear they are more common than I would have thought. This one was a bit tatty from the Santa Anna winds, the struts were preformed metal bolted together. Hopefully our donations will help them recover the damage, though in Mexico it will always be, "manana" before anything is done.