missing road story

    On the 10th Day, Monday Nov. 26th, we left La Paz on hwy # 286 headed South East for Los Barriles by way of San Juan de los Planes on the way to the Cabos and Land's End, using the East Cape dirt road.

     A distance of 60 miles (=100km) to Los Barriles, 30 of which (=50km) are paved and a section of 12 miles (=20km) or so that was rated 2X by our Baja guide book ( 2X= ok for big dual purpose bikes and 4x4... that's us...) through the mountains Sierra El Carrizalito .

     We left town around 11am, after repair work to Pete's bike frame, and because of the late hour, decided to skip breakfast, (we had coffee around 7 am, while waiting for the welder to show up) to be had as late lunch when we would get to our destination in a couple of hours...we thought...

     We reached the mountain road around 11:30 am and started up what looked like rough but challenging conditions, which is what we had come to Baja for ...right...? Sure...! What we did not know at the time, was that this road had been heavily damaged by the September Hurricane and did not qualify as a road anymor. Of course, there were no warnings of any kind indicating anything out of the ordinary.

     There were knobby tire prints, from the beginning all the way through the canyon road, probably from lightweight dirt bikes, which confirmed that this was the road even though it did not look like it anymor. And if you ask the locals about road conditions, the answer will most likely be "muy mal" which means "very bad". This however describes most dirt roads of Baja, as seen from the steering wheel of anything with more than 2 wheels .

     Before we realized something was wrong and this was not just a rougher than usual road, it was too late to turn around with our big bikes, (we can climb % grades that are nearly impossible to descend, gravity rules..., with the weight of these big bikes, about 700 +lbs. with baggages, not counting riders) , so we continued 50 or 100 feet at the time pushing, pulling and guiding each other over and around assorted obstacles, be it sharp drop off or climbs, narrow passages, loose surface shale rocks on sharp descents. The presence of a partner next to you makes all the difference as a back up, this is where the choice of a cool headed solid riding partner becomes vital, if anyone looses it and panics, it could change totally the outcome of a little episode such as this one.

     As it got more and more difficult, the distance we could move the bikes each in turn became shorter and shorter, one obstacle at the time and taking frequent rest brakes, as it was full sun with no shade and about 35 centigrades ( 95F ) on my thermometer and quite humid due to the closeness of the sea. Even though we were soaked in sweat, we agreed to wear our jackets and helmets everytime we rode our bikes, even if only for a few feet, as protection against the falls which were in abundance and impossible to avoid. The last thing we wanted was to injure ourselves against a rock of which there was a pretty good selection on either side, and not have the full use of all our body parts.

      We sometimes moved only a few feet at the time, then the next bike, our bikes each kissed the ground 2-3 times on one side or the other, without serious damages because of all the protection bars and the low speed, but still our immediate future did not look very bright. Some sections of the road were often cut by deep sand washes through which we would sink a foot deep, we had to slip the clutch with power on, so as to reach a compromise between digging in and moving forward, until the clutch started smelling from all the abuse. If we damaged our clutch in these conditions, there would have been only one thing to do, dig two very big holes, bury the bikes and forget it, until they decided to rebuild the road, which could be a while, certainely not "manana". Not a very nice perspective ! So..let's be polite with the clutches guys... please...No other vehicules could presently come help us, many sections of the road having only narrow portions of it left ( see center photo previous page ) that would not allow anything wider than a bike to make it through, and even about that, there was no guarantee, we did not at that time know for sure.

     So even in these open sections, we could only do a few hundred feet at the time. Regularly, we had to build the road as we went, over each new obstacle, using rocks to cut away embankments or to build up bridges with, so that our cylinders and saddlebags would clear narrow passages between rocks too large to be moved. Pardon the expression, but you could say that we definitely were in deep shit... or so we thought. What we did not know yet was how deep... but as we were to find out soon... the worst was yet to come.

    We each had 2 liters of water in our Camel Back and Platypus, to which a drinking hose is coupled so that we can sip water anytime without stopping, to ensure that we stayed properly hydrated at all time. As anyone who has operated a bike under these tropical conditions know, you can't function very long and efficiently without water. Well our problem was that we were using our water very fast and even though we carried a backup of 2 additional gallons (= 10 liters) + 2 liters each, grand total 14 liters almost 3 gallons, a fair amount of water under normal conditions and based upon the fact that on previous days, we would use up just a little over our 2 liters each, not including evenings and campground needs.

     Of course, the lack of food did not help neither. We were constantly into energy crash mode, whether we knew it or not, being a little weaker physically as the afternoon wore on, having had no food since dinner the previous evening. Also, not having the secondary benefit of water absorbed through food, our needs for water were increased, as it became our sole energy source. We also never expected this whole ordeal could take as long as it did, as it was by late afternoon we came to realize that unless we found water...good luck... or came to the end of that infamous used to be road, with all the exertion and the hot sun, we would run out of water very soon... oups... the adventure was getting a little more interesting... serious even...

     We finally ran out of water around 6 p.m., just as we came definitely down from the mountain onto what looked from a distance to be a straight clear cut road straight ahead toward the first fishing village of Boca de Alamo, according to the map. It was also dark by then and we were totally exhausted. First thing first, we discussed our options very briefly as they were not numerous, and decided to simply lay next to our bikes, on the soft sand (nice to lay in, but what a pain to ride through).

     We slept for a couple of hours that way, but our throats were getting dryer and dryer every hour that went by, and our voices had lowered by quite a few octaves by now, we both spoke like the godfather almost, and we moved slow to conserve energy. The moon was visible and almost full. On the white sand, it reflected brightly almost as on white snow... did I say white snow...? like in, you melt it, you get water, type of snow...! Dream on buddy and get back to reality ! We then decided to go back and check a white gateway we had seen as we came down the mountain, and see if anything such as water could be found there. Even though we gave this possibility only a very small chance of success, we felt we had to try. We were quickly getting dangerously dehydrated and it would only get worse as the hours went by, even though it was now cooler.

      So we hid a few items in bushes nearby, helmets etc. and started walking back in the deep sand. This was a very energy and time consuming process, specially with motocross boots and riding gear on or carried in our arms. We brought the jackets along for warmth or to sleep in or on, as in most deserts and mountain areas, once the sun is gone, the night becomes quite cool, even cold. We had also looked at the option of leaving the bikes, and walking South on the beach, where we should eventually reach one of the fishing village. But would there still be people living there without a road ? We even went all the way to the edge of the water, on the beach, to see if we could spot the lights of a village. This was however totally useless, as they have no electricity in the smaller villages, not even generators most of the times. So we could not see anything, even though we were quite close to Boca de Alamo, possibly less than 5 km at the time, as we measured later on the map.

      After about 45 minutes of walking, we reached the private property sign, to find that behind the heavily locked steel gate, only the empty shell of a small travel trailer, completely gutted of everything, remained. Nothing was left, except for the outside aluminum carcass. Ha ! well... now we knew.   We had to try.

      We headed back silently and very slowly, while the moon, which was now higher in the sky, was getting brighter and brighter. For a brief moment, in the distance, from the higher vintage point where we now stood, as the road went up an down as we walked, I thought I could see the clear cut of the road far ahead among the trees.

      This was impossible to see from where we had left the bikes because of the embankment left by the passage of the water on its path to the sea. The road now seemed headed straight ahead, instead of directly in the sand wash into which we thought we were condemned to ride in. Earlier on, before we went to sleep around 6 p.m, I had walked for about 20 minutes up and 20 minutes back, and had only found more deep sand ahead with no end in sight. I had told Pete reluctantly about my finding, which did not brighten up our future very much.

      Back at the bikes, I then walked over the embankment and quickly found some harder surface about a kilometer straight ahead from where we were stopped, past a fairly deep sand section. After continuing on for a good while, (I don't really know how far I went, my notion of time among other things, was getting to be a little woosy) I was now convinced that this was the road. Even though it had loose sand covering it, it was not sand washed, like the other alternative had appeared to be. This was the first bit of good news in quite a few hours. I was quite happy with my find and could hardly wait to bring this bit of good news to my partner.

      I tried yelling, but that took too much energy and it did not work anyway since I had no voice left. I came back quite enthusiastically, even though I was weaving quite a bit as I was walking back, realizing that the dehydration process would probably not allow the clear thinking process much longer. We had to get going quickly, but I agreed upon some rest before we would make an attempt at going again to reach the fishing village of Boca de Alamo. Both of us understanding quite clearly that the time was now running out, between still being able to operate our heavy bikes in these difficult conditions, and not being able to do so.

      Around 11 p.m. I called out to Pete and we slowly got ready to move on, first we had to help each other get out of the deep sand our bikes were parked in, and then over the steep rock covered enbankment to reach the ROAD. "Are you sure" Pete asked... It sure did not look much like a road, as he sunk all the way to his frame, after only a few hundred feet. The only thing to do then, is get off the bike, which of course stands on its own, then start digging as we had done many times before during the day. First, lean the bike to one side while you dig under the opposite side, and then repeat for the other side. Repeat this process a few times, until by pushing, pulling and slipping the clutch from beside the bike, you get it back on the surface, and in doing all of the above, drain yourself of the little amount of energy you had accumulated over the last two hours of rest.

      Since we were now in sand mostly, and less rocks were present to damage the wheels or blow a tire, (we are tubeless) I suggested reducing the tire pressure to 15 lbs. front and rear, from 28-30 front and 32-34 rear, that we had run until now because of potholes and sharp rocks sticking up everywhere along the roads. That made all the difference in the depth we would sink into the deep sand and made our bikes much easier to control, almost to the point of being able to ride standing up... the key word here... being almost... We were just to weak to fight out bikes, we had to kind of let them go wherever they wished, as long as it was on the narrow strip of road showing under the full midnight moon.

       Then, finally, a beautifully rusted small sign barely visible appeared on the side of the road saying 3 very nice words : Boca de Alamo... Wow...! What a nice name, "Mouth" of the Alamo is the english translation. Ours were pretty dry by then, and needed attention badly. Anyway, at this point, any name indicating people, and as a result agua, would have qualified as beautiful, believe me... There were dogs barking, and we could make out a pickup truck, in the fenced yard of the little fisherman's house near the beach. A light came on as we approached the gate and a man wearing only pants came out toward us, followed shortly by a woman and her son, and later on her daughter. They looked amazed at these two dusty apparitions out of the dark, asking with very low voices for "agua por favor" (water, pls.) and saying they had just come from La Paz through San Juan los Planes.

       As we drank one glass of water after the other, the man and his family were each in turn trying to explain to us , that what we were saying was impossible... There was no road anymore from where we said we just came from since the Sept. storm...No shit... We stood there, under the moonlight, a few feet away from the fence, so as not to look threatening to them. They stood a few feet inside, out of reach, except for when they handed us water, which we drank without worrying about whether it was purified or not. They later on assured us it was bottled purified water as they had no well. Frankly, we would not of cared much at that point. These were very nice people who quickly realized that they had nothing to fear from these two strange looking misguided Canadians Gringos which had to be a little bit "locos" (crazy, if you prefer) for travelling a road that did not exist, and that everybody in the area knew about of course.., You see, where we come from, roads do not disappear. They might be damaged by some natural phenomena, but within a few hours usually, someone will get on it and erase all traces of the mishap. Stupidly enough, now that we think about it, it never occured to us, in our wildest dreams, that a road listed on a map and a guide book, could disappear in smoke. That's two real Gringos for you...

       The fisherman 's wife offered more water to take along, and then asked us if we were hungry. It made us realize that it was now more than 30 hours since we ate, but we reassured her that we still had plenty of reserve by pinching our waist and showing her all the extra meat available. "Muchas Gracias" we said. "Agua si", but food, we'll be ok until tomorrow, or today as it was now pass midnight. As we were getting ready to go, they offered us to stay right there on their beach until morning. These were genuine nice people, as they exist everywhere...

      We offered to pay for the water, they graciously refused. We each gave the lady a little souvenir, Pete a little Canadian flag to wear as a pin and me a Harley Montreal key fob of our Lowboy. They, of course, had no idea where Montreal was.

      We then had a very nice (aprox. 2 hours) ride to Los Barriles under the moonlight and our big driving lights, at low comfortable speeds, watching for all the night critters, big and small, of which there were plenty, and giving them right of the way of course.

      In Los Barriles, we ended up sleeping on the beach between fishing boats, next to our trusty mounts which got us through that day without any complaints, without missing a beat, and which, contrary to us, did not even need water to function properly. Fishermen arriving from the sea around 4 am offered us some fish tacos. "Muchas gracias senor", but at this point, we may as well wait a little more. It would be 7:30am before we saw any food, a beautiful breakfast. It had been 36 hours since we last ate, and it had taken us 12 hours to do that 12 miles passage through the mountains (= 1 mph), not a bad average. At least we had kept on moving, we could still be back there doing 0 mph...right...?

      We also had been out of water for about 6-7 hours before we got our first drink around midnight. How come two experienced and usually well prepared individuals such as us had been caught without any snack type of food, such as peanuts, trail mix, etc, that could carry us over between meals ? Simple, the night before in La Paz, our 3 Australian friends travelling by bikes ( 2 KTM / 1 Honda ) to South America, which we had met back and forth for the past 10 days, had decided, upon learning from Pete that Nov. 26 being my 54th birthday, it qualified as a good enough excuse to go get some Mexican beer and drink it up, which we all did.   Guess what goes good with beer, something salty maybe, like our backup peanuts maybe ? All were eaten on Sunday afternoon and evening. We realized the next day that we had been carrying a jar of peanut butter in our bags, but just picture yourself for a minute, dry mouth and throat for hours, trying to swallow peanut butter, (no water don't forget). Anyway, food was not the problem except for the fact that we had less energy available, ...AGUA, WAS...
if you allow me this pun : THE MESSAGE DRIVEN HOME THAT DAY, WAS VERY CLEAR, ABOUT AGUA...IF YOU RUN OUT OF IT... WHEN YOU NEED IT.... YOU MIGHT NEVER SEE HOME AGAIN...AND YOU CAN NEVER HAVE TOO MUCH OF IT... SO FILL UP...EVERY CHANCE YOU GET....

       Did we learn something throughout all this... ? We sure did... but what exactly... we're not sure... like knowing when to quit maybe... ? Ok... when is that point reached... can anyone that ever got in trouble tell us... What we did learn for sure... is that you have a much better chance to make it through these difficult situations by staying cool... waste no energy wondering why fate dealt you this hand, which might at times look so unjustified... just think it out... no panic... easy to say... but that is also wasted effort and energy... until you're still kicking... everything is still possible... specially with a good partner by your side... so on your next adventure... select you riding buddy carefully...it could come in handy...