During a 1950 trip along the peninsula, the Mexican reporter Fernando Jordán wrote that Baja California enjoys the country’s most beautiful sun.Frédérik-Xavier D. Plante/The Globe and Mail
I had just passed Bahia Concepcion, heading south on Mexico’s Federal Highway 1, when I couldn’t take it any more.
My water bottles, replenished only a couple of hours earlier, ran dry way ahead of the next town. My bicycle’s chainring was so badly twisted that the chain kept popping off under tension, making the climbs impossible to negotiate.
During a 1950 trip along the peninsula, the Mexican reporter Fernando Jordán wrote that Baja California enjoys the country’s most beautiful sun – perhaps because it sets on it last.
Alone in the 35-plus degree heat, the implacable star felt like a nemesis. I saw no option other than to get off the pedals, flip out my thumb and hope I could hitch a ride.
After a relatively smooth 1,200 kilometres starting from Anaheim, Calif., my bike – an antique Raleigh Grand Prix bought second-hand two weeks earlier – and I were starting to fall apart. I left Mulegé, an oasis of palm trees, that morning anticipating a tough day. My goal was to reach Loreto, 136 km south, and have the bike fixed there. I didn’t even make it halfway.
I had done a few long bike touring trips before, around Quebec’s Gaspé Peninsula, in British Columbia’s interior and Vancouver Island, but this was my first outside Canada. After two years of Spanish classes, I wanted to visit a Latin American country and took advantage of a work-related conference in California to plan my vacation.
While preparing for the trip, I told friends that I would cross the peninsula by bicycle, in the July heat, for the sake of “type 2 fun,” or what the late psychologist Daniel Kahneman called the “remembering self” as opposed to the “experiencing self.”
The latter, he explained in a TED Talk, lives in the present only, while the former “is the one that keeps score and maintains the story of our life.” In doing so, the remembering self puts a premium on the most painful moments and the highlights, among other distortions of time and sensation.
“The remembering self is a storyteller,” Kahneman said, and I hoped that my experiencing self’s sore quadriceps and burnt shoulders would be worth the story.
Globe writer Frédérik-Xavier D. Plante travelled 1,400 km on two wheels before returning to La Paz and taking a ferry to the Mexican state of Sinaloa.Frédérik-Xavier D. Plante/The Globe and Mail
I certainly saw some spectacular scenery to photograph and recall. Past the coastal city of Ensenada, where Highway 1 swerves to Baja California’s interior, the vineyards, orchards and dry mountainous landscape reminded me of British Columbia’s Okanagan region.
As I progressed southward, rolling hills were replaced by angular mesas and rugged peaks, surrounded by colourful shrubs or lush forests of towering cardon cactuses. I crossed the Valle de los Cirios, a vast protected area home to one of the world’s most biodiverse deserts and the endemic, alien-looking plant giving it its name. I saw plenty of pristine beaches along the coasts of the Pacific Ocean and the Sea of Cortez.
Encounters with wildlife were both haunting and magical. Glimpses of whiptail lizards running next to the road. Majestic ospreys perched on utility poles. Clumsy pelicans on wharves. The ballet of bats at dusk in San Ignacio, another oasis. Roadkill – cattle, snakes, dogs – and their stench were ubiquitous, as were vultures.
There were tougher moments, too. Traffic, especially getting out of Tijuana, was chaotic and dangerous at times. Cycling infrastructure was scarce and the highway’s shoulder width varied from comfortable to nonexistent. On two occasions, I had to jump off the pavement to make way for big-rig drivers unwilling to give up an inch. Sun and hills were unrelenting, hydration and heatstroke a constant worry.
But the generosity of Baja Californians kept me going, sometimes literally.
Motorists regularly offered water through passenger windows. Truckers waved in encouragement, as did soldiers on Mexican army Humvees. Others honked – though I was sometimes unsure if in support or annoyance.
Hospitality workers patiently repeated questions and answers, playing along with my broken Spanish when I insisted on using it, even if they could converse in English. Bar patrons gleefully asked about the trip and gave recommendations over Tecate Light beers. Restaurant owners allowed me to camp next to their facilities in the middle of the desert.
On that fateful 15th day near Bahia Concepcion, it didn’t take long for someone to stop and pick me up. Randy and Aurora, a young couple from Ensenada, made room for my bike in their SUV and put two ice-cold bottles of water in my hands.
The bike shop in Loreto didn’t have the spare part I needed, so I took a six-hour-long bus ride to La Paz with my beat-up ride in the luggage bay. I was both disappointed and relieved to skip more than 350 km of intimate contact with the landscape.
Along the coasts of the Pacific Ocean and the Sea of Cortez, there are plenty of pristine beaches.Frédérik-Xavier D. Plante/The Globe and Mail
I rested there for a few days, taking leisurely rides along the malecon, a waterfront walkway, reading on the beach and feasting on seafood. I continued with fresh legs toward Los Cabos on the peninsula’s southern tip.
In Cabo San Lucas, street vendors of all stripes hustled near the marina and clubs, offering fishing tours, throwing pet iguanas on my shoulders and pushing cocaine samples in my palms against emphatic “no gracias.”
I did book a snorkelling tour. Daniel, my knowledgeable guide, drove us to a beach just outside of town, where we found an orgy of colourful species, from crabs and iguanas on the shore to the green turtle, octopus, whitetip reef sharks and myriad other fish below the surface.
East of San Jose Del Cabo, I hitchhiked again after a series of punctures made me run out of extra tubes. A construction worker picked me up immediately and refused to take the money I offered for the detour.
Ultimately, I travelled 1,400 km on two wheels before returning to La Paz and taking a ferry to the Mexican state of Sinaloa. It was one of the most difficult things I have ever done.
Early on in the adventure, outside an isolated restaurant somewhere between Catavina and Punta Prieta, a man carving and selling small wooden sculptures and other hand-made crafts asked why I was doing this trip. I said I wanted to practise speaking Spanish and challenge myself. He laughed.
If you go
Make sure to have a solid, recently tuned-up bicycle and to carry appropriate tools and spare parts. There is not much you can do to mitigate the risks traffic presents when the highway’s shoulder gets narrow. Stay visible and look over your shoulder (or on your mirror) to make sure passing drivers give you space.
Carry as much water and electrolyte drinks as you can and refill your bottles every chance you get. I usually left with three to four litres of water in the morning and refilled my bottles two or three times a day, depending on temperature, distance, elevation and opportunity.
Stop to admire the oases and historic buildings of San Ignacio and Mulege. Explore the desert around Catavina.
In La Paz, have lunch at Taco Fish La Paz and a glass of wine at Sunrise/Sunset Bar. Take a short bus ride to spend an afternoon at Playa Balandra or Playa El Tecolote, just north of the city.
In Cabo San Lucas, have dinner at Mother Flower and book a snorkelling tour with Daniel on Airbnb.
