That was me with the oil-soaked right leg and boot. And gas-smelling helmet and gloves.
We rolled into San Felipe as the daylight was fading. Firstly we spied a bank with an ATM, and two of us tried our luck withdrawing pesos. Success. While at the ATM I struck up a conversation with what I thought was a local. As it turns out he was "born & bred" in Tucson, but had to relocate to Baja due to making some poor decisions early in life and finding himself looking at a 30 year stretch in the clink. He gave us directions to the Hotel Cortez where we were to meet with two more riders who had trucked in from SLC and California.
Jaw session around the bikes at the Cortez:
The 4 of us were slated for a single room with two beds, and after a bit of obligatory homoerotic humor the lodgings were settled. I tried my best to wash the oil out of my pants and the gasoline out of my helmet pads and gloves, and everyone eventually drifted off to sleep to the hum of the A/C unit and the soothing vapors of evaporating petroleum products.
The next morning the group of 6 met for breakfast. Here are a few:
The view of the sea was pretty nice:
That fella in the tracksuit was lurking on the beach, scanning the horizon while holding a clipboard. I found this curious so I kept an eye on him. Eventually, in the distance, a gaggle of rowers came into view along with a powerpboat, and tracksuit guy started yelling into a two-way radio.
In the meantime we came up with a plan to ride to Bay of Los Angeles via Gonzaga Bay and a few dozen miles of dirt road. Out in the parking lot, some big toys waited for deployment:
This was the weekend before the Baja 1000 race, and lots of teams were out pre-running the course. Our route for the day would have us on part of the race course.