No Free Miles on the Baja Divide

Shocked, I remained on the ground. I had just tripped in camp and fallen backwards onto an eight-inch rock, landing squarely on my sacrum. The pain was excruciating. Was this it? The very first night of our trip and I was going to have to call for an evacuation? Is there any chance I would still be able to pedal? Have I done long-term damage?

The day we arrived in Cabo San Lucas on the southern tip of Baja, Mexico we pedaled all over the city looking for appropriate fuel for our alcohol stove. Finally finding what we needed we settled in for the night so that early the next morning we could started pedaling north on the Baja Divide route. A number of years ago I rode the southern Cape Loop in the clock-wise direction; since Jesse and I wouldn’t be looping back to Cabo I decided we should go up the eastern (Sea of Cortez) side where the route follows close to the sea with never ending gorgeous views. First we had to climb over a mountain on dirt roads and make it 55 miles to the first available water in Cabo Pulmo (pictured above). We had a spectacular first day, we made good time, and despite all the steep climbing and sometimes deep sand my body felt great — most notably my back, for which I have been managing pain since I was 20 years old, felt healthy and strong.

As soon as we reached the coast and pointed our bikes north it became clear why most people ride this route southbound, the strength of the the headwind was impressive. Though tired, we made it to Cabo Pulmo National Marine Park in good time and enjoyed a delicious meal in the one small restaurant. We filled up with a couple of gallons of water to get us through the night and the following day and then set up camp near the beach and used the remains of this building to block the relentless wind.

The wind shifted directions and Jesse and picked up the ground cloth to move our bed to a less windy location. As we started to move, me backwards, Jesse coming forward, I warned him to be careful there was a big rock now under the bedding that he couldn’t see. He then started to tell me to be careful there was a rock just behind me. I processed that information one-second too slowly and felt myself trip on the rock. I find that everything slows down in these moments. First thought – I’m going to recover and not fall. Second thought – nope, I’m going down, but it’s ok it won’t be that bad. Third thought – OMG excruciating pain. I just took a rock full force to the sacrum. I remained on the ground slowly assessing my body. Can I wiggle and feel my toes? Yes? Good. I stay there until I have collected myself and the pain has subsided a tiny bit. I roll to my side and a half-sitting position. OK Jesse, I’m going to have you help me up very, very slowly. Already my mind is swirling. What if I can’t pedal? Do we need to be evacuated? Will we be able to hitch a ride out tomorrow? Is our three week trip over before it has started? Have I added an acute injury on top of my congenital back issues? Will this haunt me forever?

I stand. I walk very slowly. OK, in the most basic sense I am ok. There is nothing to do now but try and get some sleep and see what tomorrow brings. I down a ton of Aleve, Jesse helps me lower myself back to the ground, and I manage some sleep. Good night to day one.

The cry of ocean birds wakes me in the morning. Today will be a test. If I put any weight on my tailbone and sacrum while trying to move between sitting and laying down I scream in pain; however, I can sit offset on one sit-bone or the other without too much pain. Moving up and down from a squatting position is very difficult — and something you do about 100-times a day while camping. Still, I am going to try and ride my bike.

Jesse carries my bike down off the platform to more solid ground for me. I get on and start pedaling. Unlike sitting on the ground, sitting on the bike saddle does not hurt! I pedal softly and do not stop. I am moving, we are moving forward! I can only soft pedal — pushing hard on the pedals sends shocks of pain through my back and down my leg. Standing on the pedals is out of the question. But I am moving forward. Now the question is, how far can I make it today? Can I make it to our planned destination 50 miles down the road to keep us on track for our Christmas hostel reservation? I walk the steep loose pitches of dirt road, but even that is tenuous, anytime my foot slips the pain is jarring. We push on, we skip a section of track for smoother pavement nearby, we move forward. We make it to El Cardonal. If I can do it today, I can do it again tomorrow.

It wasn’t quite an uneventful night on the beach, just as darkness fell I sensed animal movement near my head and threw on my headlight. We were surrounded by hermit crabs in golf ball sized shells walking all over, including trying to come onto our bed. They were simultaneously cute and creepy. Flicking them away became a game until we seemed to have cleared our area of them and finally drifted off to sleep.

The following morning the pain is about the same, we pack up and head for our destination: a hostel in La Ventana, a kite-surfing destination slightly off route. We knew everything would shut down for Christmas so we had made reservations for two nights, and I desperately needed some rest and recovery. Being off the bike allowed me a little healing time, as well as soaking in the hot water pools made by mixing sea water with underground thermal water. We made some friends at the hostel that drove us there and the guys did all the hard work of moving rocks and building our individual pools.

A few days of rest have helped me move a little bit better and we had a short 30 mile paved ride to La Paz for one more night in a hotel and a major resupply of food before heading onto a rough and remote part of the track. La Paz is a great tourist city, with more Mexicans than folks from the USA, unlike many of the smaller beach towns. We found an amazingly peaceful and beautiful hotel two blocks from the beach for about $45 USD — the most we would spend on accommodations at any point.

After enjoying a spectacular sunset in La Paz we had a long urban ride north in the morning before hitting empty roads again. For awhile we had quiet pavement and eventually we were back on dirt next to empty beaches. Two days of pedaling into head winds on devolving road surfaces finally landed us in the beautiful pueblo of San Evaristo. On the way to San Evaristo some cycletourists going southbound told us the restaurant was closed, but that the owners had allowed them to purchase some food to cook. This was disappointing news because a hot day with lots of deep sand and rocks had us dreaming of cold beverages and a hot meal upon our arrival to San Evaristo.

While the restaurant was still officially closed, the kind owners Lupe and Maggie Mae shared with us the amazing fish tacos that they had made for their own dinner and allowed us to camp on the beach behind their restaurant. It was a perfect ending to tough day of pedaling. Meanwhile my pain was decreasing a small bit each day, I was starting to be able to pedal up the steeper inclines without much pain. Though if at any point, I accidently sat back on my tailbone while getting in or out of bed, a shockwave of pain would rack my body.

The following morning brought a stunningly beautiful, but brutally steep and unrelenting climb into the Reserva Natural El Portezuelo. From the start of the day, my back was feeling rough. Trying to get back on a bike on a steep climb requires lots of core strength, balance, and throwing your momentum forward for a brief moment — all of which were very aggravating to my back. This long climb was the only time my pain reduced me to tears, but I knew we would eventually get over it and have a long down hill stretch even if I had to walk a lot of the climb.

Eventually we made it to the “descent”. This is where I started to realize that there are no free miles in Baja — an axiom that would hold true for the duration of the trip. What looked like dozens of carefree-wheeling gently descending miles on the map was actually rugged, brake-inducing, forever pointing upwards yet again terrain. Nonetheless we eventually made it to the next water source (for this is how one rides in Baja – from water to water). A local family had taken an interest in providing food, drink, and sometimes a place to camp for Baja Divide riders as a way to supplement their income. They made and reused everything, telling us that the only things they purchased were salt and fuel to pump the water from the river to the house. The same river that the donkeys and cows used liberally — thank goodness for water treatment tablets! They fed us a huge plate of fried eggs, beans, and tortillas; it was the most fulfilling meal I had enjoyed the entire trip up to this point. I’m not much of a meat eater, and portions were generally on the small side for a hungry cyclist. This huge plate of food really hit the spot!

To get to Ciudad Constitucion the back way one has to pedal through the town dump. Trash is a big issue in Mexico and throwing your empty bottles on the side of the road, as well dumping trash bags full of stuff, is very common, much more so than in the US. At best, each town had a place on the outskirts where people would throw their trash and for a large city like Constitucion this meant a large dump. The photo below was just from the edge of the dump we had to pedal through and it got much, much worse. Once we were pedaling through the thick of it, we definitely weren’t stopping for photos, in fact I was terrified of having a mechanical in the middle of it. The one time I accidently inhaled through my nose I started gagging from the smell and could barely get it back under control; I was grateful that I thought to put on my mask which kept the intermittent swarms of flies out of mouth. Mexico desperately needs more infrastructure around trash collection and isolation; however, it made me acutely aware of any bottle of Coke or water I consumed — there was no hiding where it would end up, there was something very honest about that compared to the “out of sight, out of mind” approach in the United States.

Following the gauntlet of burning and rotting trash, we arrived in Ciudad de Constitucion on New Year’s Eve. We were hopeful that this inland city would have a fiesta with people in the plazas enjoying music and dancing, but unfortunately that was not the case. In the evening we were able to see young people out for a normal Saturday night doing lots of shopping — most businesses had moved many of their wares out on the sidewalk, but we were told that New Year’s Eve is more of a family holiday in Mexico and people would be at home having private parties. So off to bed we went. We were looking forward to the famed section of track coming next, following a rugged route through the Sierra de la Giganta.

By lunchtime we reach a small government supported agricultural town for our last known access to food until we reach San Javier. We found the small tienda, stocked up on water, and asked if there was a restaurant or anywhere to purchase cooked food. We had developed a habit of purchasing a hot lunch and then eating a small dinner without the use of our stove in the evenings, when possible. The man running the store asked us to wait while he checked with his wife and upon his return asked if we wanted a bowl of pozole. YES, yes we do thank you very much. They kindly set us up with a little table outside, brought us two huge bowls of pozole with all the fixins straight from their garden. This was definitely one of the top 3 meals of the trip!

While we were waiting for the pozole, three children who had been waving enthusiastically to us as we pedaled through the town came running up. Each of the children spontaneously gave us big hugs and the oldest girl chatted us up in Spanish. When the woman running the store asked the girl if her mother knew where they were, she quickly replied “Yes, she said we could come talk to the gringos!” It was definitely the cutest use of the word gringo I’ve ever heard! Upon finishing our meal we were chatting with our generous hosts before leaving and the conversation turned to seasonal tamale making, which lead them to ask if we would like to take some with us. YES! Yes we would :). Tamales travel well and were a divine afternoon snack. These tamales were filled with a mixture of cheese and sugar — they were power biking food for sure!

We started the slow ascent into the mountains with overcast skies protecting us from the sun.

Just as fatigue was starting to win the day and we were looking for a place to camp, we came upon the first fresh surface water of the trip that was not surrounded by homes and donkeys! It was also the first night we put up the tent and it was a good thing we did because it actually rained during the night!

It was also the first night that Jesse’s sleeping pad went flat. We had been fastidious each night in our clearing of all things sharp and pokey beneath our ground cloth, but something got us! Fortunately we actually had a body of water at hand to find the leak. Jesse finally found the leak — on the top surface of his sleeping pad?! At the end of the day, once we dried out our gear, Jesse successfully patched the leak and it held for the duration of the trip.

This first river crossing entering the San Javier Valley, famed for it’s beauty and kind people, represented a change. We spent the entire next day with soaked feet and bikes wet up to the bottom bracket — the rocky “road” crossed the river over and over again. This presented an extra challenge to my back’s tenuous hold on functioning and Jesse was also experiencing a grumpy back that day. Hurricanes (possibly mostly Hurricane Kay in September of 2022) have destroyed what was already a rough backcountry road and only the most determined 4×4 pick up trucks were able to traverse the route we traveled. Once again, no free miles, the downhills were so rugged as to be almost as slow as the climbs as we picked our way amongst ruts and boulders. Eventually we landed with Don Humberto at Rancho Santo Domingo for camping and an entertaining evening. He gave us a tour of his goat farm, access to some fresh fruits and vegetable, and sat and enjoyed conversation with us. He was especially patient with my limited Spanish skills. And while Jesse is fluent in Spanish, he always enjoys practicing with native speakers and learning new regional words. Don Humberto is a true host who loves meeting people from all over the world.

The road we were following connects missions throughout southern Baja (though I am sure tracks already existed from the indigenous folks that predated the Spanish invasion). Basically the Spanish Catholic colonists took over every village that was along a reliable water source, enslaved the locals and forced them to build the missions and convert to Catholicism, many of these indigenous groups were wiped out by a combination of disease and mistreatment. The majority of modern day Mexicans are Catholic and many of the mission buildings are still in use. San Javier is one of them.

From San Javier we could have taken a paved road down to coastal Loreto, but we still had almost a week before our flight home, so we continued along the rough inland track for several more days before following one last blown out road from Carambuche to Rosarito (it’s shown as a highway on the maps, do not be fooled!) and then followed an actual highway back south to Loreto. Throughout the trip my back flexibility and strength continued to improve. I would occasionally have a mis-step on an uneven surface that would set my healing back a day, but overall there was a clear trajectory of improvement and more freedom of movement.

We ended our pedaling in Loreto with a few days to find boxes for our bikes, recover, and prepare for our flight home. Loreto is a small coastal town that we really enjoyed — we had some amazing food that was not tacos!! 🙂 Meanwhile California was flooding and the highway between Los Angeles and Santa Barbara was closed, reminiscent of my return flight from New Zealand five years ago. Fortunately we only had to wait in the airport an extra three hours before the northbound 101 reopened and the shuttle bus was hurtling us home at speeds that seem way too fast for a cycle tourist!

By the time we got home my recovery from the fall almost three weeks earlier seemed almost miraculous, given the challenges I had been presenting to my body. However, I wondered how much I had just altered my behavior to avoid moving and sitting in ways that triggered the pain response. Safely home on the living room floor I attempted to roll up to a sitting position and screamed in pain as I rolled over my tailbone. OK, that experiment was informative and motivating. I got on the phone and immediately set up a doctors appointment, an x-ray, and got some physical therapy appointments on the calendar. The results are in: fractured coccyx (tailbone). There’s not much to do but let it heal, sometimes they take months. It turns out that one can in fact pedal 550 very rugged miles with a freshly fractured tailbone. I’m so grateful I was able to complete the journey and was not in constant pain. Currently I can still go for rides, but am careful with my motions. All the forest and trails here are still closed from the flooding and erosion, so I would not be able to mountain bike right now anyway. This was a wonderful, though rugged and challenging journey. I’m already dreaming of future adventures.