It's astonishing, how the cards are dealt sometimes. Only yesterday I was barging through yet another scorching harsh desert afternoon, parched and nervous after having run out of water, fighting tooth-and-nail against the... Hell, I don't have to mention the winds anymore. I was actually getting somewhat weary of it all, to be honest. Not like get-me-on-the-first-plane-outta-La-Paz weary, but certainly get-me-the-F-outta-this-desert weary. When I think about it, however, I reckon the Baja Peninsula is the perfect length: I only had that quittin'-time notion once, on the last day. How convenient!
I was approached by Robert and Kathy while I sat in the shade of a small deposito (beer store) near the La Paz marina, enjoying my ritual post-ride cerveza. A retired couple from California, boaters who sailed down from Alameda, they are currently renting a small apartment in town while their boat undergoes some crucial repairs. Robert also happens to be an avid cyclist, one who has completed the brutal RAAM (Race Across America) a couple times. Needless to say, they were good folks to run into, good folks period. We shot the breeze for a few minutes and I was cordially invited to stay for a few nights.
So just like that, I find myself lounging idyll in a small-yet-comfortable marina-side apartment, drinking too-strong coffee, wearing nothing but mychones and chanclas (undies and sandals), listening to Steely Dan (naturally - what could be more appropriate?) and just feeling stoked. I plan on catching the Sunday evening ferry to Mazatlan, then continuing my tour down the Pacific coast of mainland Mexico. I'm having a blast, still enjoying (mostly) every minute of it, but for just a couple days, I'm happy to be off the bike. With minimal celebration but ample relaxation, I'm done with Baja. Onto the next adventure.
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