It’s a strange thing when nothing material in your life has changed, but your perspective has. I like someone’s example of being pulled over by the police on your way to work, but the officer decides not to give you a ticket. You feel like you had a stroke of luck, but you were driving to work either way: nothing actually changed. The misfortune of being pulled over was a downside, getting no ticket an upside, but you are in the exact same position you were before…yet you have this sort of upbeat feeling like you are fortunate.
I can’t even draw a connection between a thing that happened and my feeling of good fortune, though. Nothing bad happened and now something good is happening. Nothing would look different to an outside observer if they saw me going through my day, and even on the inside looking out, my days look the same to me. So what changed?
I have no answer. My mood changed? I dunno. You can call it perspective or bipolar disorder (no, I’m not actually bipolar), but things are just looking better. Maybe it has to do with externalities, but there isn’t one I can point to. There also isn’t much reason to analyze it to death either. Understanding ourselves is a key to growth, but trying to parse out every single thought and mood and action we take is just going to pull us out of the experience of being alive.
I’m not falling for that one. Trying to figure out why you are happy — instead of being happy — is a fool’s errand.
Instead, let me do a quick update on things down here in Baja California. The only real item of interest is probably the San Felipe 250. For those that don’t know, it is one of many desert races that happen down here on the Baja Peninsula. There is the Mexican 1000, the Baja 500 and Baja 1000, and on the mainland side they have the Sonora 250, among others.
San Felipe 250
San Felipe features in many of these events, but the San Felipe 250 uses the town for the start and finish of the race, not just an area to race through. This year the loop was closer to 280 miles, with trucks, buggies, UTV’s, quads, and motorcycles running through the desert, starting and ending on the Malecon, right on the shore of San Felipe Bay.
It brought in several thousand people and sort of marked the kick-off of tourist season, since Easter Weekend is shortly after. Suddenly the parking lots, gas stations, restaurants…EVERYTHING… was full of cars and people. Pop up restaurants and shops selling shirts and blankets and trinkets multiplied like a spring superbloom of flowers, seemingly overnight.
I am not a big fan of crowds anymore but the usual spot I grab a beer or dinner at was full of racers and officials in town for the event. Since these people are racers, we at least have something in common, so I can’t say it’s a bad thing. In fact, it was a nice enough change of pace, since things are so sleepy here in the winter time. And yes, I did actually go out and spectate. It’s better done with a group because really all you are doing is fighting through traffic to get to a stretch of desert lined with people, to occasionally watch a race vehicle slam through and trail a massive dust cloud.
You can still feel the excitement and energy in the air though if you go alone like I did, and being on a motorcycle allowed me to get through plenty of the traffic. Knowing the side roads through the actual town is also a big help. I watched different vehicles go by and noted how fast the Trophy Trucks are, with their high-horsepower engines and seemingly limitless suspension travel.
It’s interesting because as an asphalt racer myself, cars are always faster because of their much higher traction and stability; even with a superior power-to-weight ratio, on a paved course you spend a lot of time actually in a corner, not accelerating out of one. But off-road, there is a trade off. Some types of terrain a motorcycle can pick its way through and find spaces between obstacles, while in other areas a 4-wheeled vehicle simply smashes over obstacles.
In the sections I spectated from, the Trophy Trucks clearly had the edge. Despite their weight, the best drivers still made them dance over and around bumps, while just throwing tons of sand up if traction was low. It’s akin to watching a 6’5″ hockey player gliding on the ice.
The motorcycles though, had to watch themselves in the deep sand, which zig-zagged with tire tracks of other race vehicles, trying to pull their handlebars every-which way. You can often use a quick twist of throttle to pick the front tire up over large mounds of earth, or to hop over a large hole, but try doing it for 280 miles: talk about exhaustion. Most teams have a driver/rider change at least once. Those that do the entire event on their own earn the title “Ironman” for obvious reasons.
I’ve ridden on the stretches they use for the race course, and even just plodding along at 30-40mph, I’m exhausted within a few minutes. I never stay on those stretches for more than about two miles, because they remain more rutted out than other dirt roads because of the high speeds the racers go. Imagine the washboard ripples on a gravel road where cars usually go 35mph, expanded out from vehicles going 90. It’s an endless line of bumps and jumps, the troughs full of deep sand and the tops with zig-zagging tire tracks.
In Other News
Aside from the race, traffic is filling up in the local gas station again because of Easter Weekend. I probably should have done my grocery shopping before people started coming down, but that’s a rather petty problem to have; it’s hard to complain about a long line at a grocery store when you’ve seen the lines outside soup kitchens during the Great Depression.
But when I’m not out hunting for a new taco spot, I’m still here planning my Canadian excursion that I’ll be up to this summer. Since deciding to take my big bike (2017 Indian Chieftain) I’ve had to re-imagine my load-out. That bike pulls a trailer which allows me to lock up my items when in cities or when in camp (I’m not such which one is really the animal, as both human thieves and critters are opportunists).
The point there is the added security means I can bring way more in the way of food, as well as the additional items to prepare food. Instead of “heat-and-eat” cooking I can prepare actual meals. With a cutting board, real kitchen knife, full-sized skillet, and things like cooking spray or oil and tupperware to hold leftovers, I don’t have to live off of tuna and pasta or cans of soup or corned beef hash. That means less ultra-processed foods, which means better living on the whole.
One thing I definitely miss about traveling with my ex-girlfriend was her need for fresh food, and therefore her doing all the cooking and me doing the dishes to even things out. I ate less and was hungry more, but I lost weight and had a generally better energy level, despite my endless problems with poor sleep and my stomach. But it’s not like I am unable to cook on my own. I find the biggest impediment to proper cooking while on the road is portions and leftovers.
If you want to make something for yourself and need to chop up some vegetables, what the hell are you going to do with an entire cabbage? At the same time, it’s the same amount of clean up if you cut up one potato or five, meaning it’s nice to make enough so either the cooked meal or ingredients can be saved for the next meal. Having the trailer means there’s a critter-proof place that also stays cool most of the day (if you keep things down at the bottom) so your food doesn’t go bad.
When you normally live off of pre-packaged food, I can’t begin to tell you what a game-changing effect these luxuries have. I don’t mind heating up some sardines and ramen noodles, but a balanced diet it does not make…
And The Clock, She Ticks
It’s basically April as I write this, and on May 01 I will be riding north again, to prepare the big bike & trailer for this year’s adventure, and to set up the DR650 for a summer of storage. It will give me enough time to visit friends before… well, before heading up to Utah to visit friends. Veterans Charity Ride is having their 10-year celebration in late May, inviting veterans from the various programs to meet up, before conducting this year’s event in June.
I’ll have to miss the new event, which is a bummer since they will ride some excellent roads to Durango, Colorado for the Durango Rendezvous. It was an excellent event when I went in 2023, but I need the summer months to explore the extensive coastline of eastern Canada and the far northeastern US states. It’s a gold-plated problem of course, so don’t think I’m complaining.
In fact, it’s the best of both worlds, since I’ve done so many years as a pilot for the Charity Ride’s official photographer, as a veteran mentor, or on the ride as a participant. In short, I know a lot of the people from the different events. After being stationary here in Mexico, it will be a great way to kick off my summer ride, meeting up with old friends, making some new ones, and celebrating the joys of riding a motorcycle on the open road.
That wraps up March for me. Easter weekend is an excuse to hole up here in the casita to avoid crowds, but also a reason to count my blessings as I look both forward and back on my time here. I seem to always be happy to come off the road after a few months, but then I’m happy to be back on the road after a few months sedentary. The grass is always greener on the other side.
Although, in its totality, I am happy with the pattern. Spend 6 months on the road exploring new places, going to events, or having long visits with friends and family, then spend the other 6 months holed up in a new location, trying to get to know it more in-depth. In the long run it lets me “test drive” many places, deciding where I might finally set up a home-base when home prices or interest rates find a sense of reality.
Until then, the road calls, and when I’m out there answering the call long enough, a new place calls me back off the road. Eventually I’ll need to go farther afield to find new places, but this is a mighty-big continent, and it’s connected to another mighty big continent. I’ve got my work cut out for me.
Johnny Killmore 